#damnable

[ktheqw]

This damnable feeling annual leave days move quickly work is coming soon

Full of discounted Panettone adding a little Cointreau vanilla bean ice cream too

New Year's resolutions float away a second lunch is coming The smell of orange on my fingertips

[userarmand]

In a way, he made me think of a child doll, with brilliant faintly red-brown glass eyes—a doll that had been found in an attic. I wanted to polish him with kisses, clean him up, make him even more radiant than he was.

“That’s what you always want,” he said softly. His voice shocked me. If he had any French or Italian accent left, I couldn’t hear it. His tone was melancholy and had no meanness in it at all. “When you found me under Les Innocents,” he said, “you wanted to bathe me with perfume and dress me in velvet with great embroidered sleeves.”

“Yes,” I said, “and comb your hair, your beautiful russet hair.” My tone was angry. “You look good to me, you damnable little devil, good to embrace and good to love.”

Memnoch the Devil (1995) — Anne Rice

[maniculum]

I just think autocomplete isn't properly calibrated for medievalists.

[lavellaned]

[maiuoart]

Trying to do some warm ups of whatever the hell I can muster; And I just. Yeah. Idfk dude, lol

[the-sin-hole]

fold 'em

stanxreader, 3.2k words NSFW 18+ it's smut baby!!!

fem!reader, vaginal oral + penetrative sex, a little anal stimulation and a couple spanks

+++

Your fourth old fashioned tastes even better than the first three. Or, wait. Is this number five?

You decide you don’t care as you sip it down. You look at your cards- a shitty hand. You’re glad you’re not playing with real money. You’d be broke eight rounds ago. You look up at Stan, sitting on the other side of the table in the living room, brow furrowed at his cards, his own fourth (or fifth) old fashioned already half-drunk in his other hand.

“I’m all in!” You announce confidently. Stan looks up at you through that furrowed brow of his. A flash of heat bolts through you. Even drunk, his gaze does something to you. After a second of weighing your decision, he puts on a cocky grin and says,

“You know that ain’t the best strategy, right? You can’t go all in every time and expect that to work as a bluff.”

You scoff. “I’m playing mind games over here, Stan. You don’t even know my long con.”

“Well, keep playin’ whatever games you’ve got, because I'm having a great time winning over here. I’m all in too. Aaaaaaand-”

He plops his hand on the table. How the fuck did he get three aces?

“Read ‘em and weep!”

You toss your assortment of twos, fives, and eights on the table, unbothered. He chuckles as he pulls the Stan bucks and monopoly money you’ve been using as barter to his side of the table.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up, Pines,” you say, sipping from your beverage. The alcohol has you loose and warm, almost sweating under the flannel you’re wearing.

“If I’d known you were such an easy date I woulda invited you weeks ago,” he says, smirk on his face. That flash of heat finds you again. Date, huh? Well, getting drunk with your boss after work and playing a no-stakes game of poker isn’t a date in the classic sense. But you’re not mad about it being considered one now.

Your sloppy drunk tongue speaks before you can even attempt crafting a witty response.

“Oh, you didn’t know? I’m a total slut,” you say facetiously. He blinks for a second, then laughs.

“Thanks for the heads up. I ain’t a prude, but if I catch you in the storage closet with any of my customers you’re fired.”

“I might be a slut, but I have standards!” You respond with a dramatically offended air. “Most of the guys that run through here couldn’t give me what I need anyways. I need someone with a lot of stamina, if you know what i mean.”

“Oh? You hard to please?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” you say, suddenly flustered at the direction you steered this conversation in, but your drunken tongue pays no mind. “I can’t even tell you the last time someone was able to get me to, uh. The finish line, so to speak.”

“Sounds like you’ve just had a buncha slackers,” he says, tone light and joking, but his eyes are glinting in a way that makes your heart beat a little faster. “A real man knows how to make it work no matter what he’s workin’ with.”

This is completely inappropriate. You’re in your boss’ house, alone, drunk. You’ve only known each other for a few months. Sure, you’ve been nursing a crush on him, but you definitely should not make this conversation even more sexual than it already is. That would be weird, right?

Your rational mind stands no chance against your now-empowered baser instincts.

“Are you saying you’re a real man?” You ask, tilting your head down and to the side far more flirtatiously than your rational mind would have liked.

“You tell me, sweetheart.”

You let out a giggle. “So you’re saying, on the record, you think you could get me to finish?

“That’s not what I’m sayin’” -he responds in a lower tone, and it makes your spine tingle- “I know I could.”

You actually blush at that.

“That’s a big promise you’re making,” you say through the ever-increasing heat in your body.

“Wanna bet on it?”

The question is said simply, casually. You chew on your lip as you study him. He’s still smiling like he’s joking, but the underlying seriousness has only increased.

“Sure, I’ll bet,” you start slowly. “But I’m not going all in up top this time. I’m gonna play this a little closer to the chest. And how are we gonna make this work, anyways? We’re not about to play strip poker, are we?”

“How ‘bout we do this truth or dare style. Whoever wins each hand gets a question or a command.”

You grin through a bitten bottom lip. Your heart is starting to pound. “That works for me.”

Stan takes the cards, deals again. You grab your hand- shit again, just like all the other hands you’ve had tonight. A jack, a nine, two threes, a king. Only one matching suit. You toss the king and jack into the discard pile, then place your threes on the table. He’s got a straight, beating your paltry pair. He smiles, and you can’t help but mirror it. “Alright, what am I doing?”

“How ‘bout you take a seat over here,” he says, patting his right thigh. Your heart thumps. This is more than you’d expect he’d start with. You stand, make your way around the table, trying to keep your pounding heart calm.

“Well this isn’t fair. You’re gonna see all my cards,” you tease as a cover for your nerves.

“I just won’t look, promise.”

You sit on his thigh side saddle. He wraps an arm around your waist and twists your torso, making your legs splay on either side of his thigh, straddling it, before leaning forward to grab the deck and shuffle. He hands you your cards face down, and you hide your hand by turning to your right, holding it close to your torso and out of his line of sight.

Shit again. You slap a pair of fives on the table. He places a four of a kind on top. His voice, deep, coming from behind you sends a twinge down your spine.

“Take that shirt off.”

“I didn’t think we were playing strip poker,” you say, nervous and excited as you reach up and start undoing buttons.

“I could tell you were gettin’ hot. I’m just doin’ you a favor.”

You take the shirt off and toss it to the floor, leaving you bare except for the thin bra underneath. The exposure sends a throb through you.

He deals again. Better, this time. You present a flush of spades. He puts down a straight flush.

“Take off those shorts, too.”

Your heart is beating wildly. You stand just enough to remove them. As soon as they hit the floor his hand grabs your waist and guides you back down to his thigh. You’re fighting back arousal now that just one thin piece of cloth separates your groin from his leg, but your attempt at repression just makes it all the more potent.

Again he shuffles, deals, plays his hand. Again you’re given jack and shit. He wins, and you can hear the slight smile in his voice as he says,

“Start moving those hips.”

You straighten a bit as a jolt of arousal shoots up your spine at the command.

“W-what do you- I-I mean are you sure you-”

He puts his right hand on your right hip. He guides you to thrust slightly back and forth on his thigh, grinding yourself against it. You swallow whimpers at the blunt stimulation. After a few seconds of guided thrusting you pick up the pace yourself. But his hand doesn’t leave you.

Your mind is starting to get fuzzy with arousal. You’re trying hard to keep focused, but your throbbing is giving you trouble.

Stan shuffles and deals again, one handed this time so he can keep the other on your hip. It feels like it takes hours before you get your dealt hand. And wouldn’t you know it... It’s shit again. You can’t help the excitement that runs through you as you lose.

“Take off those underwear.”

Your thighs clench slightly around his at the command. Your heart feels like it could pound out of your chest with nerves and exhilaration. You don’t argue, sitting up from his leg just enough to slide them down your hips, thighs, and letting them drop to the floor with your shorts. You sit back down almost tenderly.

Stan grabs your hip again, but this time pulls you back against him so your ass is against his hips, your back flush with his torso. You arch your back slightly, arousal intensified by the sudden proximity. He leans into your ear.

“I didn’t tell ya to stop moving.”

You shudder as his deep, low voice runs through you. You get back to it, writhing onto his upper thigh, against his upper body. His left hand gathers all the cards to he can shuffle and deal once again. As it does, his right hand moves from your hip, dipping down, easily finding your clit. A sharp “Mmmph!” escapes your throat as his finger rubs against it, almost casually so as his other hand works the cards. Stan takes his sweet time shuffling the deck while you writhe against him.

He deals your hand, and you can barely keep the cards upright with your overwhelming arousal. Your hand is shit yet again, but you couldn’t care less about that right now. You toss three random cards onto the table, no match for his royal flush.

“Sit on the table.”

You don’t want to leave, his fingers on your clit feeling too good, but the thought of what could be next propels you forward. You stumble up on weak knees and take your spot, jumping up on the sturdy hardwood table. You’re soaking wet and quivering with want as you watch him rise from his chair and come to stand in front of you.

He places a hand on your chest and gently pushes you back. You let him guide you. He reclines you enough that you place your elbows on table to prop you up. Satisfied with your position he places his left hand next to you on the table, leaning over you. His other hand wastes no time. He slowly, almost tenderly pushes two large fingers inside of your soaked pussy. The sudden penetration sends a veritable shock wave through your body. Your back arches and you slap a hand over your mouth to stifle the high moan that escapes you. Stan pulls his fingers back, the walls of your cunt tightening around them, and you pant under your hand. He reaches up and takes hold of your wrist, pinning it to the table.

“Let me hear ya, sweetheart. How else am I supposed to know what’s workin’?”

He lets go of your wrist and quickly thrusts the same two fingers inside you, quicker, harder. You let your moan go unhindered, sharp and loud. He laughs low in his throat.

“Sounds like it’s workin’.”

He starts thrusting his fingers steadily, not too fast, just slow enough to make you want more. You don’t hold back any of the increasingly-desperate moans that leave you. You can feel Stan’s gaze eating up every part of you as you squirm and pant on the table beneath him.

“Y’know, when you said you had trouble finishing, I thought you meant real trouble. But it’s obvious from how soaked your pussy is… this ain’t gonna be a problem.”

“B-but I’m not even close-“ you pant between moans. It’s not a lie; despite how aroused you are and how good the stimulation feels, you aren’t close to an orgasm yet.

“Trust me, sugar,” Stan says and removes his fingers, lifting them up to his face, licking your wetness from them without breaking eye contact. He swiftly kneels down in front of your pussy. He grabs the undersides of your thighs, pushes them up and open to expose your dripping cunt. He passes over your clit with his tongue in one long slow stroke, making your legs quiver as he goes, eliciting breathless moans. He pulls back.

“It ain’t gonna be a problem.”

He goes again in one slow stroke. And again. And again. And again. The tender monotony is driving you insane. Your face is red hot with arousal. You try to clench your thighs on either side of his head so you can get more stimulation, but his firm grasp keeps your legs open. You squirm, weakly try to rock your hips, but his glacial pace continues. After minutes on minutes on minutes you’re throbbing almost painfully. You can’t help it: you start pleading.

“S-Stan- hah- please- hah- I need more-“

He ignores your pleas, but you can feel him make a noise low in his throat. You try harder.

“G-god Stan- hah- you’re making me fucking insane- hah- I don’t know how much longer I can take this-“

Another low hum, more like a growl in his throat. Your pussy aches with the desire for penetration. Your voice grows more desperate.

“Please, please, I want more-“

He groans against your cunt and you, swollen, hypersensitive, can feel it. You moan with him. Finally he pulls back and looks up at you. You’re panting hard, sweating, desperation evident in your heavy lidded gaze.

“I dunno if you’re ready, sugar. You close?”

You’re certainly closer than you were before… but you’re not sure if you’ll be able to finish. Though at this point you’re so desperate for penetration you’ll say anything.

“Yes,” you say quickly. Too quickly. He raises an eyebrow. He roughly runs his thumb over your swollen clit.

“Nngh!” You let out between clenched teeth, and your legs twitch involuntarily.

“You bein' honest?”

You take a second to respond, debating whether or not to lie once more. He does it again.

“Nngh-no! I-I don’t think so! God, I just want you to fuck me!” You say loud, pleading, the throbbing in your pussy almost unbearable.

“Atta girl,” he says, and stands. “Honesty is the best policy y’know.”

He pulls your hips to his at the edge of the table. He grinds against you, and you can feel his cock pressing against his zipper, bulging against your cunt.

He gives you no rest. His thumb once again finds your clit, now working in steady circles. You roll your hips against him as you gasp and moan, trying to entice him to pull his cock out and fuck you. But he’s playing the long game. His thumb circling your clit is steady as he leans forward and starts placing kisses on your neck. The kisses slowly evolve from gentle pecks against your skin to licks, then to sucking and finally small bites, trailing all the way from your jaw to your breasts. Your moans are getting lower, deeper as the stimulation ever increases. His mouth finds your breast and his tongue flicks against your nipple. You’re so stimulated your hips buck at the contact.

Suddenly, as if that was his cue, he stands upright again. You feel less drunk from the alcohol than the prolonged intense state of arousal he’s kept you in. You’re finally starting to feel like you’re getting close. You look up at him and tremble while you wait for what’s next.

“Flip over, sugar.”

It’s a bit of a struggle, getting your feet back down to the floor without your knees buckling under you, but you manage it. When they meet the floor you’re right up against Stan, your naked flesh against his partly undone suit. Your eyes meet for a few seconds before you do as you’re told and turn, placing your hips against the table and bending over the table. You don’t bend fully, not at first. You just lean forward and place your hands on the table. But Stan quickly rectifies this. He gently pushes against your back so you press yourself fully against the hardwood. Once you're fully submitted, he presses your hips against your ass. His other hand grabs the underside of your right thigh and lifts it up, placing your knee on the table, exposing yourself to him once again.

You hear the sound of a zipper being opened, and you’re so excited you feel like you could pass out then and there.

But he doesn’t give it to you, not yet. He instead just presses the length of his cock against your soaked cunt and rocks his hips slightly. You can’t exactly tell how big he is, but you can tell he’s thick.

“Oh fuck Stan, please, I- Augh!”

As you beg he pulls back just enough to position himself and slip the head of his cock inside you. A fresh wave of heat rolls through you at the penetration. He rolls his hips, not entering you fully, just his head tantalizingly stimulating the edge of your cunt. You’re about to start begging again when his left hand spanks your ass and you yelp, pushing yourself a little more onto his cock, and he reacts by running that same hand up your back, your neck, tangling itself in your hair and holding you down firmly.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself sweetheart,” he says and spanks you again with his other hand. Your body tries to buck like it did before but Stan’s grip keeps you in place.

“We’re almost there,” he nearly growls, the words low in his throat.

His right hand gropes your ass before traveling inward. It brushes over your asshole, then presses slightly, before working in a small circle like he did to your clit just a minute before. He resumes rolling his hips, letting himself delve an inch deeper into you as he does. You try so, so hard to move yourself back up into him, but his grasp won’t let you. After a minute more, the thumb against your asshole slips inside. You let out another loud moan at the meager penetration, every sensation now heightened after all this time. Finally, you say it, and it’s true:

“P-please Stan… I’m close-”

The weak desperation in your voice makes it obvious, and that’s all Stan needs. Before you can utter another syllable he slams his hips into you. You nearly howl at the overwhelming sensation. He’s definitely bigger than you expected, and you feel almost impaled on his cock. Before you can recover he pulls back and thrusts again, just as hard, and then again, and again, and again, and the combined sensation of his thumb in your ass and his giant cock ruthlessly pounding against your G spot is finally enough. Your moans get higher and higher before you start choking on them, only able to make small stutters as the orgasm finally hits you, rolls through you like a hot violent wave. Your body moves of it own accord as your muscles tense and your nerves alight. Your mind is utterly blank for dozens of blissful seconds as you come down, your cunt twitching around his fat cock as he restrains his pounding to slow, almost tender thrusts.

“Atta girl,” he says again, and somehow, despite the intense orgasm you just had, you feel a tiny throb of arousal when he does. He doesn’t remove his thumb or stop his careful thrusting, but keeps the gentle momentum as you speak between gasps.

“I’ve never been- so happy to have- such shit luck at poker.”

He chuckles.

“Oh, sweetheart, that had nothin’ to do with luck. I was counting cards the whole time.”

You raise your head up from the table and look over your shoulder at Stan.

“What?!”

“Yeah, sorry sugar.” He thrusts a little harder, making you press your forehead against the table as his cock wracks your sensitive cunt. “You never stood a chance.”

Another throb.

"Oh yeah?"

You gather up all your remaining strength and prop yourself up on your elbows, brush the hair out of your face, and turn back over your shoulder to Stan once more.

“Bet you can’t do it again.”

[saltavenegar]

Well no luck but maybe in like 4 business days I’ll have this ready

Plus bonus frame from the veryyyyyy slow attempt at a ford animatic

[buckingham-ashtray]

BBC Sherlock, The Final Problem (x)

[ambassadorquark]

100 dollars is a lot of money to a child but as a teenager you learn it's actually not a lot of money, as most truly expensive things are more than 100 dollars. and then as a bill-paying adult it's a lot of money again

[nofatclips]

6 day working week is a pain by Otoboke Beaver from the album ITEKOMA HITS

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

Made this directly from a B. Dylan Hollis video and it's gotta sit in the fridge overnight to set but I think it's gonna be good

[ave-immaculata]

fellas we're once again wrestling with imperfect vs. perfect contrition and why imperfect contrition with a firm resolution to not sin again and promptly receive the Sacrament of Reconciliation doesn't save

[maniculum]

I've been annoyed that this "AI"-summary widget exists since I first encountered it several months ago. This is on ProQuest, which I and many others primarily know as a repository of academic publications. (I believe they also do newspapers and such.) I find the idea of the computer trying to summarize research materials practically offensive: for people who are doing research seriously or professionally, it's an insult to our intelligence; for students who are doing research because it was assigned to them, it's an extra temptation to half-ass their work.

I came to ProQuest to read something. Why is the interface trying to give me a way to not read it? And if I wanted to quickly determine whether an article is relevant to what I'm doing, I'd just read the abstract and/or the introduction because that's what it's for. (And I'm sure I'd get a more accurate idea of the article's contents that way.)

All this is to say that this is the first time I've had any sort of agreement with the so-called-"AI" widget. Yes, my key takeaway looking at this is that something is wrong and ProQuest should apologize.

[rambrandt-the-painter]

this bitch again

[maiuoart]

What a precious Bo we have!

He's such a Gentlemon- Easy and so sweet, considerate, Soul-warming~ Just look at that face!! What a cutiepie!! ♥♥♥

...What do you mean you've seen another version of him?