#efficient works flow

[zazrichor]

deity of spring

[lunasilvis]

Life took a lil 180˚ this weekend 🤟 Suddenly I'm currently very busy setting up a business I feel confident enough about will shine. It's a bizz idea that's so close to me, my heart and spirit and the (geeky) things I like. It simmered (& apparently riped) in the back of my head for +2 yrs now – but I finally could reserve a full weekend to do product research & dive further into its market value and potential.

I see only a neglectable number of possible pitfalls (which could be tackled smartly with the right marketing), and little reason these beneficial products cannot be turned into promising, amazing and long-lasting.

Sneak peak: It's a lil edgy, out-of-the-box, funky, professional, unique yet fits so damn well in the current belonging (niche) market.

[beneathsilverstars]

not being done writing this fanfiction has put me in such a bad mood lately jdhdjfk i want to FINISH A PROJECT ALREADY!!!! this was supposed to be my easy finish-able project!!!!

[arolesbianism]

Working more on the local group of Synchronized Light and hoo boy. There's smth wrong with these guys.

[arysthaeniru]

"This language of work was by no means the private language of a single-minded maniac who had lived too long under the volcano. To the contrary, Hill’s ideas were on the leading edge of the terrain where biological science and social science intersected. In particular, the concept of the calorie, as a measure of both energy consumed and work done, emerged in connection with the steam-engine-based economics of work in mid-nineteenth century Europe. By the turn of the twentieth century, the calorie had developed into a unit of equivalency between what people ate and how much work they could generate, what they needed to consume and what they were capable of producing—effectively recasting the body as a measurable machine.Whether or not Hill had a formal grasp of the field of expert knowledge cohering around the calorie and its implications for labor management and social policy, he did understand it implicitly, for he paid his employees in food. He used the way of seeing the relation of food and work that gained expression in the science of the calorie in his campaign to reduce the people who worked on his plantations to mechanisms of value production—to make them his."

Augustine Sedgewick - Against Flows

(emphasis mine)

[gemkun]

anonymous said : Mr. Ratio, I have an embarrassing problem. My teacher told me I’m not allowed to take notes in class to study later. He said if I really pushed myself and cared about my studies I should be able to memorize the lesson without needing notes to review later. Is he right?

      ⸻       ❝   your   teacher   would   benefit   revisiting   the   education   system.   what   an   antediluvian   belief.   ❞   even   his   desk   ,   possesses   a   great   deal   of   notes   ,   bearing   a   myriad   of   annotations   towards   his   current   project.   ❝   revising   is   essential.   our   memories   atrophy   if   we   do   not   exercise   consistent   practice   ,   and   as   such   ,   topics   will   slip   from   our   grasp.   it   is   an   inevitable   fact   ,   that   from   this   point   onwards   ,   you   will   face   frustration   as   you   cannot   recall   what   was   said   earlier.   ❞   steepling   fingers   ,   alabaster   obscures   only   slightly   ,   where   empty   eyes   remain   fixed   on   the   asker.   granting   complete   and   utter   attention   ,   towards   a   raised   issue   that   concerns   him   vastly.

  ❝   individuals   each   have   their   varied   learning   approaches   ,   but   our   minds   are   a   tool   that   must   be   sharpened   and   polished   to   maintain   their   prime   condition.   dismiss   your   teacher   and   his   words   ,   he   clearly   fails   to   comprehend   this   critical   truth.   continue   to   review   where   necessary   ,   and   discover   the   best   technique   that   suits   you.   ❞

[fancyturtlepaper]

INTEGRATION SOFTWARE

In today’s fast-paced digital world, businesses rely on multiple software applications to manage operations, sales, customer relationships, and more. However, using disconnected tools can lead to inefficiencies, data silos, and wasted time. This is where integration software comes into play—bridging the gap between different systems to create a seamless workflow.

For your BizMate website, integrating the right software can enhance productivity, improve customer experience, and streamline operations. In this article, we’ll explore what integration software is, its benefits, and how it can transform your business.

What Is Integration Software?

Integration software connects different applications, allowing them to communicate and share data automatically. Instead of manually transferring information between systems (e.g., from your CRM to your email marketing tool), integration software syncs data in real time, reducing errors and saving time.

Common types of integration software include:

API-based Integrations – Connects apps via their Application Programming Interfaces (APIs).

Middleware Platforms – Acts as a bridge between multiple systems (e.g., Zapier, MuleSoft).

Native Integrations – Built-in connections within software (e.g., Shopify with QuickBooks).

Key Benefits of Integration Software for Your BizMate Website

1. Improved Efficiency & Productivity

Manually entering data across multiple platforms is time-consuming and prone to errors. Integration software automates repetitive tasks, allowing your team to focus on high-value activities.

Example:

Automatically sync customer data from your BizMate website to your CRM (e.g., Salesforce, HubSpot).

Connect your eCommerce platform with accounting software (e.g., Xero, QuickBooks) for seamless invoicing.

2. Enhanced Data Accuracy & Consistency

When systems don’t communicate, data discrepancies arise. Integration ensures that all platforms have the same updated information, reducing errors in reporting and decision-making.

Example:

Real-time inventory updates between your online store and warehouse management system.

Synchronized customer details across marketing, sales, and support tools.

3. Better Customer Experience

Customers expect smooth interactions with your business. Integration software helps provide a unified experience by connecting:

Support systems (e.g., Zendesk, Freshdesk) with CRM for personalized service.

Email marketing tools (e.g., Mailchimp) with eCommerce platforms for targeted campaigns.

4. Cost Savings

Automating workflows reduces the need for manual labor and minimizes costly mistakes. Instead of paying for multiple standalone tools, integration software helps optimize existing systems.

5. Scalability for Business Growth

As your BizMate business expands, managing multiple tools becomes complex. Integration software allows you to scale operations without overhauling your entire tech stack.

Popular Integration Tools for Your Business

Here are some top integration platforms to consider:ToolBest ForKey FeaturesZapierAutomating workflows between apps5,000+ app integrations, no coding requiredMake (Integromat)Advanced automation & workflowsVisual automation builder, multi-step integrationsMuleSoftEnterprise-level integrationsAPI management, cloud & on-premise connectivityWorkatoBusiness process automationAI-powered integrations, real-time data sync

How to Choose the Right Integration Software for BizMate

Before selecting an integration tool, consider:

Compatibility – Does it support the apps you use?

Ease of Use – Is it no-code or developer-friendly?

Scalability – Can it grow with your business?

Security – Does it comply with data protection regulations?

Cost – Is it within your budget?

Final Thoughts

Integration software is a game-changer for businesses like BizMate, helping streamline operations, reduce errors, and enhance customer satisfaction. By automating workflows and connecting key systems, you can save time, cut costs, and focus on growth.

If you haven’t yet explored integration tools, now is the perfect time to start. Evaluate your business needs, test different platforms, and choose the one that best aligns with your goals.

Ready to boost your BizMate efficiency? Start integrating today!

[trendoptimizer]

Beginner or pro, Tube Magic AI makes YouTube content creation a breeze! 🎥✨ Simplify your workflow, optimize your videos, and connect with your audience like never before. Create smarter, not harder, with AI-powered tools! 🚀💡 Click this link : https://tinyurl.com/3tyr7c8x

[artisticdivasworld]

Why Factoring can be a Lifeline for Truckers During Economic Downturns

A lot of truckers are familiar with factoring, but maybe you haven’t thought about how it could be a life saver during economy uncertainty. Everyone’s feeling the pinch with fewer loads, longer wait times, and the unpredictability of when payments are coming in. Right now, cash flow is more important than ever, and factoring could be the thing that keeps your business steady while you ride out…

[reasonsforhope]

"A German bio-tech company has developed a naturally-occurring enzyme discovered in a cemetery into a near-market ready solution for recycling plastic without any loss of quality.

In 2022, GNN reported on a paper published by Leipzig-based scientists who first identified the enzyme. At the time, the enzyme was subject to a small side-by-side test, and caused the polyethylene terephthalate (PET) plastic to decompose by a whopping 90%.

Pictured: Before and After: A container of PET after 24 hours of contact with the enzyme leaves only dye

Fast forward to the spring of 2025 and those same scientists have perfected the capabilities of that enzyme, called PHL7, and have founded ESTER Biotech to bring those capabilities to market.

Their initial plan to be finished next year is a bathtub-sized pilot project reactor. If successful, their 2030 plan will be four 350 cubic-meter reactors capable of processing 45,000 metric tons of PET plastic every year.

PHL7 and ESTER Biotech boast several advantages over chemical and thermal recycling methods. For starters, once the polymers of PET are broken by the enzyme into monomers, or single component parts, they have suffered no degradation of their material characteristics unlike some recycled plastic which is weaker or less stable.

Additionally, PHL7 is exceptionally stable from 32 to 203 degrees Fahrenheit (0-95°C), and per kilogram of plastic, a dose of only 0.02% to 0.06% of the enzyme is required—substantially less than existing alternatives. Their new version of the enzyme also recycles the plastic several hours faster.

“Our technology makes it possible to bring material flows that are currently burned back to the beginning of the cycle at the molecular level,” says Christian Sonnendecker, lead author on the paper of the enzyme’s discovery, and co-founder of ESTER Biotech at the University of Leipzig. “And with high energy efficiency and scalability.”

“We are only at the beginning. But we are convinced that when science, entrepreneurial spirit and social responsibility come together, a cemetery enzyme can become a beacon of hope for a better future.”

RECYCLING BREAKTHROUGHS: 

Scientists in Japan Develop Non-Toxic Plastic That Dissolves in Seawater Within Hours

Cornell Researchers Create First-of-its-Kind Durable and Recyclable Plastic

New Process ‘Vaporizes’ Plastic Bags and Bottles to Help Make Recycled Materials

Revolutionary New ‘Living Plastic’ That Could Slash Damage to the Environment Developed by California Researchers

ESTER Biotech’s enzyme is able to separate certain multilayer composites which are normally thought of as unrecyclable. In addition to the infrastructure of the pilot project, ESTER is currently working with two medium-sized partners to build a cost-efficient supply chain with an aim to reduce the enzyme price to between 100 and 200 euros per kilogram.

Though no currently-commercialized recycling method can compete with the cost of virgin plastic, a price between 100 and 200 euros will put it in line with existing competitors.

Fortunately for anyone in the space, the EU is not afraid to use heavy-handed regulation to guarantee plastic recycling rates. By 2040, under existing EU legislation, 65% of plastic production will be mandated to come from recycled sources. ESTER believes that with its potential to offer a higher quality “recyclate,” the incentive to pursue and expand enzymatic methods will increase."

-via Good News Network, June 13, 2025

[alcedeerie]

🪄 lingwizard Follow

Magilinguistics and magiconlinguistics are so underrated. The idea that the specific language and syntax used to cast a spell can alter the efficiency and flow of a spell is amazing; it’s honestly infuriating how many people, including many mages, think Latin is the only valid conjuring language even though glossolalia is a WELL-DOCUMENTED PHENOMENON. I use many other languages in various spells and it’s really fun. Would recommend.

🪶 featherspells Follow

YOU CAN DO THAT? YOU CAN TRANSLATE LATIN SPELLS INTO A DIFFERENT LANGUAGE AND THEY’LL WORK!?! EVEN YOUR NATIVE LANGUAGE?!

🌱 gandalfbignaturals Follow

Yeah, welcome to the club! Using your native language isn’t recommended for summoning forces from other realms, though. The portals tend to collapse if you do that.

🗝️ keytomychest Follow

Wait wait wait, I just consulted my familiar about this, is magiconlinguistics modifying or inventing an entire language to optimize your magic? Because that sounds like something both extremely commendable and also batshit insane.

🌳 druid-ruin Follow

Yeah, that’s basically exactly what it is. We’re surprisingly pretty chill. I mean, except for that one time where someone hyper-optimized Taikureiden Suomen Kieli V5 to create the first, and most dangerous, known instance of the Everything-Damage Fireball spell, but we usually don’t talk about that.

🪄 lingwizard Follow

Ah, Taikureiden Suomen Kieli, the most absolutely broken magilang to ever exist. Go Finland, give us more fucked-up spells!

🪶 featherspells Follow

wait, the Everything-Damage Fireball is REAL? I thought you guys were joking.

🌳 druid-ruin Follow

We WERE joking. ONCE.

🔥 icastfireball Follow

on one hand, this is really cool and all, but on the other hand, i'm scared of what this can do. However, on the secret third hand, i kinda wanna modify a language to make demonic creatures physically sick upon hearing it, cause i wanna do a little trolling.

🪄 lingwizard Follow

Grand Mage Amara Lightningchain coming up with the idea for the Volapük Silananazunik experiments be like:

🔥 icastfireball Follow

hold on let me look something up

🔥 icastfireball Follow

wh. what the fuck

[peachesofteal]

Raspberry Girl Previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader CW: 18+ daddy kink, size kink, forced orgasm.

“Ghost.” 

He looks over the rim of his glasses before sliding them off completely and tossing them onto the stack of papers spread out in front of him. "Gaz." 

“You out of here soon?” Kyle’s in the doorway with his arms crossed, slight smirk twisting his lips. 

“Tryin’ to be.” The administrative side of this job will be the death of him one day, leaving him buried beneath mountains of paperwork. “Guys get their gear done?” He nods. “Shoot test?” 

“All complete. Evals loaded in the portal.” He’s frighteningly efficient, something Simon’s come to rely on.

Kyle has no idea there’s a recommendation for promotion in this stack of nonsense on his desk. 

He’s going to miss him when he makes captain. 

“Good work as always then.” His phone buzzes. Three times. 

>I think I should be another hour, or maybe less. 

>But of course don’t feel like you have to rush over here, I’m fine to wait. I don’t mind. I know I gave you a time estimate this morning so of course I don’t expect you to work around me. 

>I just meant to say I’m ready whenever. That’s all. But no rush, again. 

Kyle sighs with a chuckle. "That your girl?" Simon waves him away.

“Have a good weekend, Lieutenant.” 

“You too, Captain.” 

“Hi.” Something in him settles at the sight of you. Tired, but excited. Half ready for bed, half ready for him, you’re standing in the shop next to one of the little tables, your work bag and jacket slung on a chair. 

“Hi sweetheart.” You’ve shed some layers in the last week, become a little less inhibited with him, a little more confident, slowly adjusting, and he’s proud of you. 

You’ve been good. 

“How was your day?” 

“Oh, fine. I’m tired.” Your eyes go wide with panic. “Not too tired though, not like t-tired I want to go home. Like, to mine uh, I still-” It doesn’t take much to knock you off balance, still exploring this new world, the one he’s building for you, his sweet fresh fawn. 

“It’s alright.” He reaches, cupping your cheek. Physical contact seems to soothe you. He thinks it’s because there’s a live, tangible tether connecting you to the now, to him, instead of whatever is going on in your head. “You were up really early sweetheart, it’s understandable you’re tired.” You were awake before him this morning. Sent your usual wake up text well before the sun rose with a hurried explanation about a last minute catering order and a panicking bride. 

I said I’d do it. I felt bad. 

It wouldn’t be so rough if you hadn’t been at work late the night before for something else. 

It’s clearly wiped you out, and he’ll need to shift gears. “Are you ready to go?” You take a half step back and hold up your pointer finger, inclining your head towards to the back of the bakery. 

“Uh, wait. I forgot something, one sec.” 

You return with a big white box cradled in your hands. 

“What’s in there?” 

“Oh I made you something. Us. I made us something. For after dinner, if you want. Obviously if you don’t want it that’s fine you don’t have to eat it, it might not even be your thing, which is fine, I just-” He steps into your space and you trail off, eyes going to his without prompting. He blocks the world out, closes in, palms the back of your neck.  

“It’s me baby. Just you and me, and there's nothing to worry about. You’ll never make a single thing I won’t like, right?” 

“R-right. I know that.” You’re bobbing in a continuous nod, looking away to study something on his shirt. 

“What is it?” 

“Pie. Boston cream pie.” Cream pie. Blood flows to his cock and he momentarily gets lost in his own head. 

“Tell me.” Fat tears roll down your cheeks, hands following him desperately as he rears back and folds your knees to your chest, staring at where his cock is moving in and out of your body, everything about him too big, nearly too big to fit inside you. “Where do you want daddy to put his cum?” 

“I-inside. I want your cum inside me daddy, pl- oh- please.” His balls tighten as he grinds his hips, licking an errant tear running down your face. His girl. His. In his arms, his bed, crying on his cock. 

“Only good little girls get daddy’s cum, baby. Have you been good?” 

“I’ve been good, I’ve b-been so- ah- f-fuck-” The wand buzzes to life, hovering just over your clit as you shake your head frantically. “No nonono, I can’t anymore, I c-can’t.” 

“Yes you can,” he thrusts deep and you gasp. You’ve already come four times, but he wants more, needs more, wants to wring every single one he can get out of you before he empties his balls inside your pussy. 

When he finally slides it across your swollen little nub, you howl. 

“Oh- no-” you whine, nails digging into his forearms, muscles already bearing down on him, breaths turning into short rasps.  

“I know. Breathe baby,” he glides it back and forth, kisses your cheek, your mouth. “Breathe through it- that’s my girl. You can take it.” You’re oversensitive, battling a war between pleasure and pain, and your legs instinctively try to close, prevent the impending explosion you know is coming. “Keep your knees open.” He gives the head of the wand firmer pressure, and you cry, shaking your head no again. 

“It’s too- too much.” Your feet are on his sides, partially bent in half, and he forces one of your thighs wide, giving him a better view of your puffy, tortured clit. 

“Knees open baby girl. One more and daddy will fill you up nice and deep.” You nod, already so close he can feel it, scorching heat pulsing around him, legs trembling as they go lax. “There you go…” he pets your hip, mouth at your ear, soothing and comforting as it rips through you. It pushes him over the edge and he tosses the wand, pins you. Traps you beneath him. All his. 

“Oh my god,” you slur, still riding the wave of your own orgasm, eyes rolling back in your head. It pushes him over the edge.

“Good girl, good fucking girl, so proud of you, takin’ my cum- fuck-” his own voice is choked off as he floods you, ruts like an animal, instinctively forcing as much of his seed into your belly as he can. 

When it’s over, he drinks in the sight of the milky white cream dripping out of your hole before scooping it up with two fingers and pushing it back inside. You’re limp the whole time, and when he slips the plug in, you barely notice. You’ll be pumped full of him until later, and he’ll take it out to give you more. 

“Daddy?” You mumble, half asleep, and he brushes his lips across yours, tucking you into his chest. 

“Right here, baby. I’m right here.” 

“- it’s not really. I mean, the best part about it is the cream, you know? That’s what makes the cake but the layers have to be moist on their own. You can’t just rely on the…” He swallows your words, licks them out of your mouth, cups your face and presses his thumb into your bottom lip afterwards, edging it across your top teeth. “Oh.” You blink, blindsided, and he runs a hand down the back of your head, strokes the back of your neck. 

“Ready then?” You lean into him, a little dazed, off kilter. 

“Y-yeah.” 

 Your toes scrunch at the threshold of the living room, afraid to cross until he flattens his palm on the small of your back.

“Go get comfortable sweetheart.” Battling nerves with a need for sleep, you were unsettled at dinner, sitting at the table, swallowing over and over again long after your food was chewed. There’s something more at play, something larger weighing on you. You left your plate half empty, fork resting at three oclock, twirl of spaghetti and red sauce waiting, and he should have told you to finish, or take one more bite. 

But it's a slow game right now. A careful one. 

“Alright.” You scamper towards the couch, settling into the far side, toes tucked between the cushions. It’s a balancing act, not too much, too too little, and when he sits down next to you with a giant slice of the cake on a plate, you watching him anxiously. Curiously. 

He forks a piece free, and holds it in front of your mouth. “Open.” You do. Immediately. You trust him to feed you, and it calls to the thirst thrumming in his blood, the power of control. “Good girl.” He waits, patiently, ignores the flex of your throat, the butterfly flutter of your lashes. There’s plenty of time for it all. There will be a lifetime (if he’s alive to live it) with you. "What do you say?" 

“Thank you.” 

“Thank you…” He leads, and you follow. His good fucking girl. 

“Daddy,” your whisper is shy, cautious and brave at the same time. “Thank you daddy.” A kiss finds its place on the corner of your mouth, then the full furl of your lips, and you burn alive, flames flickering in your eyes. He takes a bite himself and groans 

“Christ baby.” 

“Do you like it?” When he nods, you grin. 

“Not everyone likes them because they expect a cream pie and that’s not what they get, it’s a cake with vanilla cream between the layers, see?” You point to the thick custard. “It’s not like coconut cream pie, or a banana cream pie, you know?” Cream pie. If you say cream pie one more time. 

“It’s really good sweetheart. Too good.” He helps himself to another bite, offers you one, and then has a third before finally setting the plate down. Silence hovers in the air and he lets it languish, giving you time, all the space you need to give him the worry, the doubt, the weight that's holding you back. 

“Simon.” He smothers his surprise. It’s not the first time you’ve used his name, but your voice wavers on it. Wide doe eyes stare back at him, and then they find the floor. That won’t do. “I don’t know what to do with…”

“With what sweetheart?”

“You. This. U-us? If that’s… if that’s what-” 

“That’s what it is.” He closes what little gap there was between the two of you and pulls your knotted together fingers free, dwarfing your hand with his. “That’s what this is, baby.” The hope, the happiness, blooms across your cheeks and lasts for all of two seconds before worry overtakes it, and you begin tracing the lines in his palm, head down, focusing on the task, slightly shaking. Giving you a chance to walk away would be the right thing to do. 

But he won’t. 

He can’t. 

He’d never give you up now. 

“I’m not… I’ve never… done something like this, I don’t know how.” 

“That’s okay sweet girl, you don’t have to.” The nervous tracing turns to a light scratch. He lets it continue for a beat before folding your hand between his, stopping the movement. 

“I don’t?” 

“No. I’m here, and I’m going to take care of you, make sure you have everything you need. I’m going to keep you happy and healthy and safe, and you don’t need to worry.” A shaky exhale rattles free from your chest, weight of a thousand questions evaporating into thin air, decisions and deliberations rapidly falling away as you settle into a new reality, a new life. One where you’re cared for, supported, and loved. “All you need to do is listen, okay?” 

“Okay daddy.” 

[heartowan]

★

[ abby anderson x fem reader ] cunnilingus, fingering, soft, slow sex, stone top abby, pillow princess reader, pwp.

Abby's broad shoulders rested between your legs, keeping them apart with no effort. She was strong and hard. Her arms were under your thighs, fingers stroking the sides of your body so tenderly it might make you cry if you focus too much on it, but it was hard to do so with the way her tongue lapped at your center.

She wasn't loud, wasn't messy, but she got the job done like no other. Her tongue flicked against your clit in practiced strokes, you could feel the humid warmth of the muscle pushing you closer and closer to your peak. Your legs twitched, toes curled as if you were about to come, but she had just started — she was just that good.

Your low whimpers and breathy moans filled the quiet room, and your fingers held onto her hair just carefully enough not to completely mess up her braid, but you needed to ground yourself. Abby was just like you, almost like she was the one receiving, whimpering to herself, humming against your pussy, showing you how you could make her feel good just by feeling good yourself.

Eyes closed, lips parted, head tipped back and resting on the pillow. She made you feel like you were about to burst every time. You didn't even realize the pants were coming out anymore, your breath heavy as you tried to hold on, to keep yourself from coming pathetically fast, but fuck, you hadn't seen your girlfriend in almost two weeks — you hated when her work trips took her away from you, and so did she —, you supposed you could act a least a little pitiful.

You were dripping onto her bedding, the juices flowing out of you and landing on her chin, then down onto the white sheets.

"Abby," you gasped when she eased her thick index finger into you, accidentally gripping too hard at her hair, but she didn't even mind, in fact, you head her chuckle against your clit.

You whined, pushing up to your elbows to watch as she ate you out. She was looking at you, her blue eyes piercing into yours. Her finger pumped in and out of you, she could feel you creaming around it, making a mess like you usually did. The squelching noises were music to her ears, as well as your soft hums, shaky cries and dragged moans of pleasure. Every sound that you made.

You clenched around her finger, and she made sure to add another one, now fucking you with her index and middle fingers — fast and efficient. Your head fell back again, and you whimpered, hips bucking to follow her movements.

Now you felt it even more, your toes curled harder, stomach started to tense and breaths came out even more puffy. You tried really, really hard to keep your eyes open, but the efforts were in vain.

You cried out, louder than normally (still not a scream), your body slumping down against the bed as you spasmed, your thighs squeezing Abby's shoulders with strength neither of you new you had.

Your orgasm ripped through you like a lightning bolt, you dripped down on Abby's fingers, and she kept going, milking you, watching as the cream oozed out of your needy pussy. "Thaaat's it, that's it..." she cooed, digits still pumping into you, just slower.

It all lasted so painfully and deliciously long, you twitched in her arms even after she had already pulled her fingers out, now letting them caress your sides again as she pressed the softest kisses to your inner thighs, grounding you in the moment.

When you looked down at her, her lips were shiny, face flushed, and hair a complete fucking mess — beautiful as always. You were so happy to have her.

"Thank you, baby..." your voice was a breathy, drawled slur, you were just so satisfied.

You heard her laugh against your skin, and then felt one last kiss to your thigh before she murmured, "You're very welcome."

She stayed there, head between your legs, resting against your thigh as she caressed all over your torso, tracing midless lines, and you didn't move either, finding her hair again, sinking your digits in it to massage her scalp just the way she liked.

Both of you knew you weren't even close to being done after nearly two weeks apart, but chose to bask in the comfortable quietness for a little longer.

★ not proof read, guys

[bashamanik]

Simplify Your Vendors | Easy Setup of Vendor Boards in monday.com | Tara Horn

how to use monday.com,monday.com tutorials,monday.com,custom implemention,monday,simplyday,vendors boards,set up vendors boards in monday.com,monday.com step by step guide,simplify your vendors,vendor management.,vendor boards,easy tutorial for vendor boards,work flow optimization,business efficiency,tech solutions,vendor management,easy setup of vendor boards in monday.com,tara horn monday.com,tara horn tutorials

[r3starttt]

CAITLYN X YOUNGER READER

CW: hc's. requests. mentions of spitting, slapping, fingering, strap-on sex. Caitlyn masturbating at the thought of reader (yum) finger sucking and lots of self indulgent filth tbh.

TAGLIST: @lewd-alien @greysontheidiot @jolyne @sapphic-ovaries @tlouloser @prwttiestbunny @visobsession @thesevi0lentdelights @lvlymicha @stickycherritart @patronagrona @halle5s @usuck @thalchmy @lovelyy-moonlight @nosferatuv

There are whispers about the two of you everywhere, a constant murmur. People talk—always do, always will—assuming you’re just another one of her fleeting indulgences, another girl caught in the gravity of her wealth, her power, her privilege. They say she’s using you, and that you, in turn, are using her. Yet, neither of you make any effort to deny them. If anything, you fuel the speculation, feeding it with the quiet, effortless way you let her spoil you.

She buys you everything—things you ask for, things you don’t. She knows your desires before you even voice them. There is no request too trivial, no whim too extravagant. From the simple comfort of a warm meal waiting for you after a long day, to the brush of her fingers working the tension from your shoulders, to the extravagant, glittering pieces of jewelry she insists will suit you perfectly. A handbag you mentioned in passing, the scent of a perfume she once caught on your skin and decided you should always wear. Every detail, every fleeting thought that crosses your mind—she captures it, makes it tangible. You have learned that with her, indulgence is not just a habit but a language of its own.

Caitlyn parades you through the gilded halls of her world without hesitation, pulling you into the orbit of champagne-soaked galas and whispered gossip. She tells you what to wear. "I know you better, love. Trust me—you’ll look stunning in this." And you do, always. With a hand at the small of your back, she leads you through the crowd, a silent declaration of possession in every touch, on your thighs, on your hips, on your neck sometimes. Her gaze never shies away, trailing over you with a kind of hunger that doesn’t need to be spoken aloud. She watches you—the curve of your hips, the slope of your neck, the fat of your tits and your ass.

She loves the attention you draw, revels in the way others look, but it’s not just vanity. It’s the thrill of knowing that no matter how many eyes linger, you are hers and hers alone. And she makes sure you never forget it—whether it's the press of her lips against your throat in the dimly lit corner of a gala, or the way she pulls you into a secluded bathroom to claim you over and over again.

Caitlyn adores taking care of you—if that isn’t already abundantly clear. She carries it like a quiet devotion. She notices the signs of your exhaustion long before you do, catching the subtle shifts in your voice, the tired droop of your shoulders, the distant look in your eyes. And she never lets it take hold. She’s there before the weight becomes too much—making sure you eat properly, that your restless nights don’t stretch into patterns of self-neglect, that your health is carefully preserved. When she’s not near, her absence is softened by the quiet efficiency of the staff she’s instructed to ensure your routine is upheld. Meals prepared just the way you like them, reminders whispered with gentle concern, a structure built from her care, constant even when she's not home.

But when she is with you, her attentiveness takes a different shape, something more intimate, more tangible. After one of those long, glittering nights at yet another gala, when the champagne has flowed too freely and the weight of the evening sits heavy in your limbs, she’s there—her arm intertwined with yours. The warmth of her hand pressing gently against your back, guiding you through the haze of indulgence and into the soft sanctuary of your shared bedroom. She settles you onto the bed with an effortless grace, her fingers ghosting over your skin, tracing delicate paths across your arms, through your hair, whispering soft reassurances that melt against your senses. Her lips find the curve of your temple, the corner of your mouth, the pulse at your throat—each kiss grounding you, pulling you closer into the gentle lull of her presence. She holds you like a precious thing, cradling you until sleep finally claims you.

And you can only thank her in the ways you know how. Dressing in the silks and lace she’s so carefully chosen for you. You wait for her return after too many days apart, anticipation humming beneath your skin as you let her enter first, savoring the moment before you follow. Your hands find her shoulders, trailing soft kisses along the nape of her neck, lingering there before moving to her jawline, each touch a silent welcome.

You guide her to sit, undoing the buttons and ties of her clothes with a slow, deliberate tenderness. And then you let her touch, let her remove each piece of tender fabric from your body until her hands are on your hips, guiding you to sit in between her legs. Rocking your body up and down her skin just to feel the heat of your whines against her neck, your nails digging into her shoulders when she grabs your ass almost too aggressive. And then when your wet exposes all of you, when the sounds get so loud it's almost too obscene, there she lets you take her fingers, kissing your breasts and putting your nipples into her mouth while you ride her hand. If she's not too tired then she'll take her strap, laying you on the bed to admire each reaction your body makes, each tone your lips let pass, each frown your eyebrows create. Or maybe she'll let you handle it as you wish, just holding your head while you suck on the blue length, or holding onto your ass and hips and waist while her mouth almost drools at the sight of your breasts bouncing with each thrust on her strap.

Caitlyn is acutely aware that your age can sometimes create a quiet distance between you, a rift born not of intention but of circumstance. She knows it can be the root of certain insecurities, both yours and hers, though you may never speak them aloud. Yet, she meets these uncertainties with a steady resolve, constantly reminding you in her soft, assured way that she doesn’t care about such things. Caitlyn sees the brilliance in you, the sharp wit and unflinching curiosity that often leaves her in awe. She adores the beauty you carry—both the kind that turns heads and the quiet kind, the one revealed in the soft moments when you think no one is watching.

Because just like you she sometimes finds herself in an expensive room away from you, hands sliding her clothes off her body with no shame but desperation, circling her fingers around her clit, grasping at her breasts like they were yours. Only when she feels her slick dripping she allows herself the sensation of her fingers, thrusting in and out of her wet pussy, hoping they could be yours instead. Or brushing her hair over one of her shoulders while her knuckles turn white at how hard she's gripping the sheets, trying to make the soft of the pillow feel as good as your skin.

Caitlyn loves the maturity in you, the resilience, the determination to carve your place in the world. But she loves the immaturity too, the moments when your youthfulness shines through in bursts of enthusiasm, naiveness or stubbornness. To her, it’s all part of what makes you you. And more than anything, she delights in giving you the freedom to explore the world the way she wishes she could have at your age.

But Caitlyn also knows the experience, and she’s certainly not afraid to remind you of that, even when you don’t want to hear it. There’s a quiet authority in her, a subtle yet unyielding belief that she often knows better than you.

And when you forget you’re in a relationship—one built on love and balance—and not simply some casual arrangement. It’s in these moments that her condescension slips through, not out of malice but from a place of confidence in her own wisdom.

You’re standing in front of the mirror, frowning as you adjust the straps of the dress Caitlyn picked out for you earlier. It's stunning, of course—she has an eye for these things—but something about the way it hugs your body, the way it reveals just enough, makes you hesitate. You tug at the fabric, trying to convince yourself it’s not too much, too daring, but before you can slip into self-doubt, Caitlyn’s voice cuts through.

"Stop that," stepping closer, her reflection appears behind yours in the glass. She's already dressed, flawless as always, effortless confident. Her hands find your waist, grounding not only your thoughts but your body in a way that makes your breath hitch.

"I know you think you have a say in this," her tone like she’s humoring you. Like she knows exactly what you’re thinking before you do.

You roll your eyes at her reflection, but she just smirks, tilting her head slightly as she watches you. That gaze of hers—assessing, knowing—has a way of stripping you down more thoroughly than any dress ever could.

One of her hands slides up your bare shoulder, fingers tracing the delicate curve of your collarbone, "but let me remind you—when it comes to things like this, I always know best."

Her lips brush against your neck, and it’s infuriating how easily she takes control, how effortlessly she disarms you with a mixture of amusement and authority. "So be a good girl and wear the dress."

The way she says it leaves no room for argument—not that you’re inclined to fight her when she’s looking at you like that, when her touch is so deliberate, her words laced with something you can’t quite name but crave nonetheless. You swallow hard, nodding slowly, and Caitlyn hums in approval, pressing a lingering kiss just beneath your ear before stepping back.

"That's what I thought." And just like that, you let her win—because deep down, you love it when she does. Mostly because of the reward that comes with it.

And oh, Caitlyn despises it when you’re disrespectful—whether it’s to her or to the carefully curated world she surrounds herself with. She expects a certain grace from you, a poise that matches her own, and when you falter—when your eyes roll in front of her colleagues, when your lips curl in disdain at the mention of a woman who so clearly yearns to be in your place—she doesn’t let it slide. Caitlyn is patient, indulgent even, but there are limits, and she’s always swift in reminding you of them.

She waits, of course, never one to make a scene. But later, when the champagne flutes have emptied and the polite smiles have faded into the background, she’ll take your hand, leading you through the corridors of some grand, gilded venue until you’re behind the locked door of an opulent bathroom. The kind with marble counters and mirrors that stretch too high. Her fingers, steady and knowing, trace the hem of your dress—the very dress she picked out for you, ensuring it would allow her effortless access when the need arose. And now, it seems, the need has indeed arisen.

She’s meticulous in her control, sliding beneath the delicate layers of fabric with a slowness that feels deliberate, a punishment in itself. Her touch is firm, possessive, her lips brushing just below your ear. "I dress you for a reason, love," she whispers, her tone dripping with authority, "so I can do exactly this when you misbehave."

She loves teaching you lessons like this—loves the way your bravado crumbles under her touch, the way your protests dissolve into soft gasps and whispered apologies. She keeps you there, pinned between the cold marble and the heat of her body, circling the pads of her fingers around your clit, smiling at your neck at how wet you are already, how damp your panties are. She sometimes thinks you're rude on purpose, just to get some fun at the boring of such events. Just to end up laying on your stomach on top of her lap, legs separated while her hand plays with the fat of your ass, spanking with no warn before sliding her fingers inside of your panties and scissor your folds, playing with your clit until you're wet enough and a wining mess. Only there she lets you have her fingers, her right hand busy holding your face in place as she lets you suck on her fingers, her rings still on. And her left one pumping in and out of you at the slowest rhythm. Maybe one day you'll learn to behave like she expects you to. Like you should.

[dollishmehrayan]

BATBOYS HCS ON YOUR PERIOD ── .✦

a/n: so basically this is a request by a anon (here) and anyways I’m gonna try to be very active from now on actually and like try to post 3 times a day too and answer requests too!

Tags: ( batboys x reader)

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

The overthinker final boss: Dick keeps a stash of everything you might need pads, tampons, heating pads, chocolate, and tea. He probably Googled “best snacks for periods” and stocked up on all of them.

Mr. Optimism: He tries to cheer you up with jokes or funny stories from his day. If you’re too grumpy, he’ll settle for giving you a massage instead.

Walks it Off with You: If cramps aren’t too bad, he’ll suggest going on a short walk to “get the blood flowing” (pun not intended he swears).

Endless Compliments: “You’re glowing. No, I’m serious. Period or not, you’re stunning.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Silent Supporter: Jason isn’t the type to fuss over you, but he’ll quietly do everything to make you comfortable like bringing you your favorite snacks, handing you the remote, or lighting a candle in the room.

Cramps Battle Plan: “Heating pad or Tylenol? Pick your weapon.” He’s very no-nonsense about getting rid of your pain.

Comfort Food King: He’ll whip up your favorite comfort meal, and if he doesn’t know how to cook it, he’ll spend hours watching YouTube tutorials to get it right.

Protective Mode Activated: If anyone so much as annoys you while you’re on your period, Jason’s ready to pick a fight. “You’re messing with her today? Leave her the fuck alone.”

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

The Researcher: Tim has read every article about periods and cramp relief. He’s got tips you’ve never even heard of, like drinking tart cherry juice or lying in a specific position to ease the pain.

Sleep Enforcer: “You need rest. I’ll handle everything.” He’ll make sure you get enough sleep, even if it means carrying his laptop into the bedroom to work quietly by your side.

Subtle Humor: When you’re cranky, Tim knows how to make you laugh without crossing the line. “I guess Batman didn’t prepare me for this kind of monthly chaos.”

Midnight Run Specialist: If you casually mention craving something like fries or ice cream, he’s already putting on his shoes to go get it.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Efficient and Direct: Damian doesn’t dance around the topic. “What do you need? Tell me, and I’ll get it.” He’ll ensure you have everything from snacks to painkillers.

A Little Awkward at First: If it’s his first time dealing with your period, he might be slightly flustered but determined to be helpful. Expect a lot of practical solutions.

Healthy Solutions Advocate: He’ll try to make you herbal teas or suggest yoga stretches that can relieve cramps. “This pose is known to improve blood flow. Try it.”

Protective Little Bean: If anyone upsets you while you’re on your period, Damian will glare at them like they’ve personally offended his family. “Apologize to her. Now.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Regular guy: Bruce has handled every kind of crisis imaginable and he does have daughters/ female colleagues and close friends so he isn’t truly like clueless, so this is no different to him. He’ll make sure you’re stocked up on everything and keep the Batkids in check so they don’t annoy you.

Comfort King: He’s surprisingly good at creating a calming environment dim lighting, soothing music, and plenty of blankets. (But please never ask him to decorate for the love of god😭 h/j)

Subtle Affection: Bruce isn’t overly emotional, but he’ll quietly make sure you’re okay, checking in on you with a simple, “Do you need anything?”