#lumbar roll

[soldier-poet-king]

My boss stop talking about losing weight for her son's wedding challenge

[sea-shelly]

No wait they actually believe yuki's dnf was on orders from red bull?? I thought we were just meme-ing them 😭

[disabled-dragoon]

Little brother was having the time of his life helping me figure out how this damn chair works

[rock-internationals]

Big and Tall Office Chair 500lb Wide Seat Desk Chair with Lumbar Support Armrest Swivel Rolling High Back PU Leather Computer Chair Massage Adjustable Ergonomic Task Chair for Adults Women(Black)

[fayes-fics]

When The World Is Free: Chapter 7 - Mon Ami M'a Donné

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: none really… some kissing and a wedding!!

Word Count: 2.5k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl! Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. Well, here we are; it's the wedding of the least convenient marriage of convenience in history, lol. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Montivilliers (just outside Le Havre), September 1939 

You are awoken by birdsong beyond the green shutters, and, more perplexing, a warm weight settled around you. It takes a few seconds to get your bearings. Your face is buried in the crook of Benedict's neck, a woodsy, citrus scent filling your nostrils and stirring your senses. Under the covers, his arms are wrapped around your body, one large hand splayed over your lumbar spine, the other rounding your shoulder. Your breasts are pressed into his broad chest, your legs entangled. One of your own hands appears to be resting on his hip. Moreover, something solid and warm pressing low on your belly makes your blood run hot. You must have both rolled into the middle of the bed during the night and are now clinging to each other.

It is different to waking up with Stanley in a way that makes you equally excited and confused. You are not innocent; you and Stanley have had sex. It is… fine, in your opinion. Mostly, you are mystified as to why so many women whisper breathlessly about it behind closed doors. In your experience, it was not unpleasant, but not precisely life-changing, either. He seemed pleased when it was over; that was enough for you. Or at least you used to think so. Laying now in Benedict’s arms makes you question that. Your fingers itching to explore, run over his body, touch, taste, and do things that never even occurred to you with Stanley. 

You try to stay still and modulate your breathing, wanting to savour this a little longer, even as your heart beats wildly. But all too soon, Benedict stirs, a slight moan as he stretches against you, half-conscious, pulling you even tighter against his body, all sorts of muscle and skin over yours. And yes, something hard pressed firmly between you now, your own body stirring so thoroughly, entirely without any effort on his part. Warm lips kiss your forehead, and his fingers flex on your nightgown, spidering across your back in a way that stokes a fire deep in your belly. It’s entirely possible this is a mere reflex to someone laying in his arms, but it doesn't stop you from hoping for more before he is awake enough to realise it’s you. 

A sharp inhale from him, and you know he is fully awake. A sudden awkward tension in his being as he tilts his hips away rapidly. You move at that point, too, pretending to be just awakening.

“Good morning,” you whisper, attempting nonchalance about how entangled you are, tilting your head to look at his face.

His hair is a chestnut riot, and his face slack from repose, stubbly cheeks and those expressive eyes glossy with sleep.

“Good morning,” he replies, rough and a little reticent, the sound echoing through his chest and rattling against yours, a sensation you want to burrow into.

There is a beat where you stare blinkingly at each other, his gaze falling to your lips, and your stomach swoops as it looks like he is about to kiss you.

Please…

But he seems to stop himself at the last minute and mumbles an apology, rolling away and detangling himself from you. A part of you is bereft even as you return the sentiment, edging out of bed and grabbing your robe, a need to cover up as if your body will betray your arousal too readily.

You head down to get coffee as soon as the bathroom door closes behind him.

—

Your stomach is a ball of knots, your hand clasped tightly in Eloise’s, as the taxi pulls up outside the town hall. It’s a few hours later - a bright, sunny late summer Wednesday lunchtime, the day before you are due to sail to England. But perhaps more significant to note…it’s your wedding day. And not the one you were ever expecting.

Benedict caught a lift earlier with Jérôme, and you are glad he was not around as Eloise and Marie helped you get ready, fixing your hair in an elegant style, your makeup understated but again chic. Marie has arranged for a photographer friend to attend so you have a few photos to take as evidence. Eloise and Marie will act as witnesses to the marriage. And that is the sum total of attendees. An acute contrast to your planned nuptials to Stanley. The last you heard about the guest list, which is very much your mother's domain, was close to 150, most of whom you are certain you do not know.

The building is handsome but primarily perfunctory; not an excess of decor, but still appealing in its clean simplicity. Jérôme meets you in an airy corridor with high ceilings and large windows and asks you to wait outside the room until you hear music from the grammarphone.

Somehow, the use of music surprises you. You assumed this would be very businesslike and transactional, a formality that would keep the worst of your conflicting emotions at bay. Until you remember, to everyone except the three of you, this is a real marriage. Of love. Jérôme is obviously going out of his way to make this the best he can, and it makes an ache lodge in your gut that you are lying to him.

“I guess you are giving me away, best friend,” you titter nervously to Eloise as she lingers in the corridor with you.

“It’s an honour,” she jests, even though you can see the apprehension in her stance.

“It’ll be okay,” you find yourself reassuring her, reaching out to rub her arm.

“I’m…I'm worried my brother might actually like you,” she confesses in a rush, making your heart rate spike. 

“That kiss was for show,” you quickly reply as if trying to convince yourself as much as her. “We will have to get good at acting such displays of affection if I am to escape.”

She nods and looks up from the ground, meeting your eyes. “I know… I just… there was something about it. You both looked… found and lost all at once…”

How she can sum up the jumble of exactly how that moment felt is jarring, but you are stopped in your reply by the start of the wedding march from behind the wall.

“Here we go…” you inhale deeply, a peculiar zip of energy racing down your body.

Eloise loops her arm in yours, face now resolute. “To freedom…” she mutters as the door swings open before you.

There, standing at the end of an aisle of empty rows of chairs, is Benedict. Looking handsome in a navy three-piece suit and crisp white shirt. He is all you can see as the strains of the music fade from your mind; taking each slow step with Eloise feels much more poignant than you expected.

His face is a kaleidoscope - softness, nerves, a gentle smile pitched to reassure, but something else you could swear, burning in his eyes as they lock with yours. It knocks the wind from you as you finally reach his side and see him up close. With one final squeeze of your arm, Eloise withdraws to take a seat. 

And then it is just the two of you, shoulder to shoulder, facing destiny.

As Jérôme begins the simple ceremony, you swear you can feel Benedict inching closer, a crackling energy emanating from his being. It makes you briefly look up at him askance.

You look beautiful, he mouths, and it fires something behind your ribs. 

You look so handsome, you mouth back, and his face is abruptly intense like before he kissed you when dancing.

The ceremony seems ephemeral, and before you know it, after declaring your intent and signing the marriage certificate, your hand is in his, trembling slightly as he quietly recites his vows after Jérôme’s prompts. Your heartbeat is loud in your ears, staring into his depthless eyes as he promises to love and cherish you until death. He pushes a simple, thin gold band onto your left ring finger, a mild quake in his movements as he does so. 

You cannot look anywhere but him as it’s your turn to follow Jérôme's prompts. Promising yourself to him in sickness and in health, to honour him. You can hear the tremor in your cadence, but it’s not fear. It’s the dawning realisation of how much truth lurks within your words. You’ve only known this man a matter of days, but somehow, in a short window, he has come to mean more to you than fifteen years of knowing Stanley. And it excites and terrifies you as you push the gold band onto his hand and see the flame in his eyes, wanting more than anything for this to be real.

“You may now kiss the bride,” Jérôme concludes with a cheeky lilt.

Time slows yet again as Benedict leans in, and his left hand tenderly cups your jaw, that wedding band cool against your cheek as your lips meet. It's the same fireworks inside as your lips slide together, and you cling to his jacket as you keep up the sensual dance. Just before it could be considered inappropriate, Benedict breaks the kiss but leans his forehead on yours, gaze locked.

“To the future…” he murmurs enigmatically at a volume only you can hear.

“To the future,” you echo mutely, knowing that could mean so many things.

Marie and Eloise cheer as you peel apart and turn to face them, your arms looping around each other's backs. The relief it is over is palpable; you try to put out of your mind just how monumental this moment really was. It feels like too much weight to bear when this is meant to be a means to an end.

“Mrs Bridgerton,” Marie smiles and hugs you as Benedict and Eloise embrace; you sense whispered words. In fact, you could swear you hear Eloise threaten Benedict with violence.

Then you swap, and Eloise draws you into a bear hug.

“Welcome to the Bridgerton family, y/n; it’s awful, you’re going to love it,” she quips in her usual droll style, even though you can see she is moved by the whole experience, a glassiness to her eye that makes you squeeze her tight again.

A steady but comforting arm - your husband's - wraps around you, and you walk back into the world as the new Mr & Mrs Benedict Bridgerton. 

“Mother will kill me when she finds out I eloped,” he whispers laconically as you pose on the sunny steps outside, the photographer snapping shots as you exchange quiet words, a warm breeze dancing through the tendrils of hair near your cheeks. It's obvious he is trying to comfort you in this rather odd, artificial situation, and you are so grateful for it, again that little lantern behind your ribs burns bright, just for him. It allows you to ignore the small crowd of onlookers any wedding party attracts in public.

“Your mother? Do not even get me started upon mine…” you respond dryly, and his laugh is a gentle, sympathetic ring that fills your being with light. In that instant, realising a simple truth—you have each other's back in some very fundamental way through this extraordinary time.

—

Upon your return to their home, you discover Marie has roped in her kindly neighbour to prepare a wedding feast. The house is alive with the scent of cooking. 

You all sit at their outdoor dining table under a pergola, resplendent with magnolia and jasmine, eating delicious courses of home cooking washed down with copious champagne. Many pleasant hours slip by, all afternoon and, in fact, into the early evening, until the sun slips low and the sky is brightly streaked with orange and pink.

Your seat is next to Benedict, and during conversation, his arm is always around you, either your shoulder or occasionally slipping lower, sliding down the thin material of your silk dress to grasp your waist and pull you into him. Just that move alone has your lungs catch. You know it’s performative for your generous hosts, but you can’t help but lean into it, blurring the lines of your reality as the champagne fizzles pleasantly in your bloodstream. Letting your fingertips linger on his sleeve, the veins on the back of his hand, leaning into his frame as you listen as others talk. At one point, he turns his head and kisses your temple tenderly, a tingle lingering there long after. 

“What made you fall in love with this one, y/n?” Marie asks jovially at one point, nodding to Benedict as she refills your glass.

“His painting captivated me before we ever met. And then we bonded over our love of art,” you begin truthfully as you can feel his gaze upon you. “I’ve never met someone as taken as I am with its multidimensional beauty. But as I got to know him, I realised he is also the sweetest, most eloquent and generous man I have ever met. A quiet strength of character that is endlessly giving. He makes me believe there is true good in this world,” you have to stop yourself before it becomes too much. “And well…” you duck your head, knowing you are blushing, “he is so very handsome… how could I not fall for him?”

Jérôme and Marie cheer as Eloise shoots you a puzzled look over her crystal flute, and you feel Benedict’s breath warm on your cheek. You know he is gazing at you with a fierce devotion that will knock you sideways. Your name is a ragged exhale from his lips before he cups your jaw and tilts you to look at him. An inferno behind his hazy pupils as his lips claim yours. You swear this kiss isn’t for show; it's more like a spontaneous response to your words, burning brighter than any previous kiss. A simmering passion that makes you want to open your lips and surrender to him right here and now. You reach up and touch his face, his jaw stubble tickling your palm as you cradle his face like he does yours.

“Perhaps it is time we give the newlyweds some privacy…” Jérôme whistles as you and your new husband part, unable to do anything but breathe his air, every fibre of you wanting to be alone with him. Only him.

“Don't be silly; this is your home,” your delayed reply, turning to look at them.

“Oui, mais… we will be sleeping at Madam Blanc’s ce soir,” Marie informs, squeezing her smiling neighbour's shoulder.

“You are newlyweds; we do not want to know the details. Or hear it,” Jérôme adds saucily, throwing you both a salacious wink.

“Where am I going to sleep?” Eloise bemoans, playing along.

Madam Blanc pipes up in French, something about another spare room, you believe, and it appears Eloise agrees, toasting their glasses to seal the pact.

Suddenly, you are on tenterhooks that you and Benedict will be alone in an idyllic French cottage on your wedding night.

“It seems it is decided; who are we to argue?” Benedict pipes up next to you, but even you can hear the thread of slight apprehension in his tone.

Oh god. What on earth are we to do now?

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

[adoresia]

✦˚₊ NE DOUTE PAS

Pairing : e42 Miles x FemHaitian!reader

Synopsis : You teach Miles how to kompa.

Sierra speaks : I was thinking of requesting this to another writer, but i was like nah, ima do my own thing ima right it myself 😋 I love Kompa so much (im not Haitian but im Congolese its close enough) it was so hard trying to explain how to kompa but alas.. enjoy pookiewookies !

Warnings ❕: Intimate dancing, kissing, slightly (? suggestive, cuss words, a sprinkle of spanish (im not spanish do correct me 🥲 using what i learnt last year), also not that proof read i skimmed through it. tell me if i missed out anything !

Listen too’s :

youtube

You sat in your swivel chair, decorated with pink faux fur and a curved lumbar support to rest your back on. The chair swung gently back and forth while you talked to Miles on the phone.

The face-time call had reached about 30 minutes, it was now 1:30pm in the afternoon and you did not really have any plans for the day so you stay stuck with the fact that you two would be conversing all day.

“What are your plans for today mami?”

“I don’t know baby, I was just gonna stay on the phone to you all day I honestly ain got nothing else to do soo.” you shrugged, almost choking on your words trying to get it all out in one breath.

“lentamente mami you boutta drown in your own words.”

“Ughhh im sooo bored.” you pushed your chair away from your chair gliding backwards and stood up stretching your arms.

“So im boring now?” he questioned sarcastically.

“Nooo Milo, you know what i meant.” You pouted jokingly while going to play some music on your tv.

Miles watched intently while you typed the name of the song into your tv, finally searching it up and clicking on the first video that popped up.

“Whatchu playin on yo tv?”

“Just a song, i feel like dancing.” you said swaying your hips as you walked backwards.

“i could watch you do this allll dayyy.” Miles said with a grin on his face, you laughed at him.

You began to whine to the song, turning around. Your waistline moving in circles like water. The stringed beads that laid on your hips followed the pattern of your movements as you slowly lowered down the the floor with your arms either side of you.

Your boyfriend’s glued onto your waist, you span around quickly catching him staring at you so intensely.

“Miles stop staring at me nd-“

“What am i not allowed to stare at you now too?” He smirked, cutting you off.

“I was gonna say come over so you dont have to stay staring through a screen, but now you can stay your ass at home.” You rolled your eyes with a smile.

“Nah im on my way baby, then I can watch you dance f’me.”

“really? what if I teach you to Kompa instead.”

“Say no more . I wanna see you do that dance again though, when i get there.”

Miles wasted no time slipping his shoes on and kissing his mom goodbye on the cheek before speed walking through 2 blocks to your house.

He texted your phone stating he was a few steps away from your front porch and you ran to your front door with a huge smile plastered on your face while you opened it.

“Miloooooo!!” You screamed, spreading your arms out so he could come and pick you up. You loved when he picked up, especially in his puffer jacket.

“Heyy baby.” He gave you a quick peck on the lips before picking you up. You swung your legs around his waist, bear-hugging him.

He closed the door behind the both of you and took off his shoes leading you to your bedroom and dropping you onto your bed.

“Where yo moms at?”

“Why cause you came here for her or for me?” you rolled your eyes flopping back into your bed.

“Don’t be like that ma, you aint tell me you were here on your own. I woulda been here earlier if I knew.”

“She just went grocery shopping Milo, she’ll be back.”

“Aight. You finna dance f’me then?” He laid back in your chair manspread. His elbows laid on your desk behind him.

“Oh right! watch the hips, you’ll needa learn this bit..” You restarted to music and threw the remote on your bed.

Miles licked his lips squinting at you with hooded eyes.

“Watch the hips…” You began whine again. This time you started off with a ‘tik tok’ motion, slowly moving into a slow circular motion with your hips. Your waist-beads moving along with you which made it all more intriguing for Miles.

You brought your hands to your hips caressing your shape up until you reached the sides of your stomach and came to a stop.

Miles was visibly in love with the way your hips moves so swiftly and like water. His eyes stayed stuck to your waist even after you stopped.

“Damn ma, youn tell me you could do all that.”

“Well now you know, and im finna teach you.. now get up i wanna show you how to kompa with me.”

You pulled Miles by his arm taking his puffer jacket off and throwing it onto your bed.

“Right first gimme your hands” You held your hands out to Miles as he placed both of his in yours. You lowered them down to sit on your waist.

“mmmm i like this already.”

“Shutup Miles.” You grinned at him

“Then.. i place my arms around your neck… like so.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and held your other arm with your hand since he basically towered over you.

“Now you look at me.”

“This is easy, I could look at you all day.”

“Miles stop, you can compliment me later.”

You brought his head down to lean against yours, he stared right into your eyes making your knees almost buckle. You tried to divert your gaze elsewhere so you could regain focus.

“Your meant to look at me back. Right? Eyes on me mami.” He lifted his hand up from your waist to tour chin, averting your gaze from the floor to his eyes. You felt as if you were going to collapse with the way he started so deeply into your soul.

“You lucky im holding onto you, you look like you abour to collapse.”

“Miles.”

“Right, sorry baby.” he stiffled a laugh

For the next hour you continued to teach Miles as you guided his hands and hip movements with your waist.

“And thenn… turn.”

You slowly spun around both still holding onto eachother, swaying your hips to the music.

“Yeahhh.” You slid your arms down to his shoulders grinning at him, ecstatic that he was learning so fast.

“Now here comes the hard part.” You returned to the same position, this time swaying your hips into his instead of side to side.

“Oh shitt.” Miles lost all composure staring down at your hips grinding into his at a rhythmic pace. Your cheeks begin to heat up as you smile a little at what he said.

“You can do that right? same time.”

“Shit, of course I can.”

Miles spun you around, then closing the gap between the two of you. Your body pressing gently against his, fit like a jigsaw piece.

Your hips both meeting in the middle while you swayed them into eachother, both looking into each-others eyes as Miles held onto either side of your waist guiding it into his.

[ visual : https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGJ4eeBRc/ ]

You were both absorbed im each-others gaze not even realising the music had finished, and you continued for the next half an hour. Dancing in each others embrace.

After a while had passed you pulled away from miles.

“Fuck, ian know you were so good at kompa Milo? I woulda taught you ages ago.”

“Not better than you baby, lost all composure when your hips collided with mine.”

He made it to your waist before pulling you in for a kiss, bringing you as close to him as he could while deepening the kiss as you giggled. While his breath mingled with yours, your tongues danced over one another. When he intentionally nipped your lower lip, you let out a gentle whine pulling away.

“Fuck I love you so much.”

Extra :

— reader calls miles ‘milo’ because it works well with her Haitian accent

— Miles is actually a really good dancer

— Your mom came back from the supermarket ages ago, she watched you both dance in your room with a smile on her face.

— you had Miles dancing kompa with his pillow when he got home

“Miles? the fuck are you doing…” Uncle Aaron walked in on Miles waist dancing with his pillow.

“Yoo wtf, youn never heard of knocking?” Miles threw the pillow as far away as he could, dusting himself off.

“Ian even gonna ask mane.” Uncle Aaron shook his head with a laugh, closing the door in reverse.

© All rights reserved to @444morales on tumblr.

Please do not repost, translate or copy any of my work !

[ikinremu]

KINKTOBER DAY 7: Sirius Black x Mirror Sex

Bathroom

Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

Tags: P in V, Unprotected Sex

! Smut Warning !

With an echoing clank, the sleek, wood-panelled door shook against its hinges, slamming shut. The pair of you - rather haphazardly - stumbled into the bathroom, hands desperately roaming over one and others bodies - lips clashing with lips.

Tripping over each other's steps in the complete, unfiltered lust of this rush, you tumbled backwards, lumbar pressed to the cold, thick rim of the sink, mouth not sparing a single moment of connection with Sirius.

Keeping a grasp of your hips, he, with a solemn, swift motion, flipped your placement - gently bending your frame over the sink. He leant over you ever so slightly, mouth hovering by your ear.

"Can I?" He whispered, humid breath brushing your lobe amidst the hungry, sloppy lips decorating your jaw.

Verifying with a nod, you met your own gaze, vision darting to the mirror above the sink, planted right before your eyes, "Mhm."

Resuming his previous stance, Sirius curled his cold, callous fingers beneath the hem of your skirt, hiking it over your - now exposed - behind and pulling it to a loose rest upon your waist.

Digits creeping under the delicacy of the thin, satin fabric, he dragged your panties aside before quickly switching his attention to his own garments. Hastily, he began unbuckling and forsaking each piece below the waistline, effortlessly freeing his erection from its previous strain against the materials.

Observing his motions in the mirror, you were abruptly accustomed to the clutch of his hands upon the thick, smooth flesh of your hips. Taking the passing of mere moments to adjust himself, Sirius lined himself up with your entrance; eyes directly pointed to your own, he - with a singular push - slid his length within the tight slick of your hole.

Only sporting a kind, lenient grip, he snaked a hand to your neck, rolling your vision back to the mirror as he marked his first thrust. 

"I want you to look at yourself when I'm fucking you." Sirius groaned, fingers splayed over your neck, "You got that?"

Stomach mercilessly flitting at his words, you breathed out a sultry response, "Yes."

Once more, his denuded pelvis bucked against yours,  shaft pulsing as it so perfectly filled your hole - tantalising your arousal as a divine pace of thrusts contrived inside your soaking cunt, rocking your body against the sink.

The, rather balmy, weight of both moans and groans merged within the air, clit throbbing as your sweet spots were enriched by the quickening slaps of Sirius's leaking tip.

Perplexed by your own reflection, your - already unfathomed - arousal only pooled at the sight of your bodies clashing with one and other - not to mention the lewd contortions of Sirius' features.

"Shit.." You slipped, more-so breath than word, teeth clamped to the pillow of your lower lip.

Offering your hips a sweet, tender squeeze, Sirius further buried his cock inside the clenched, sopping warmth of your cunt - each thrust only heightening both participants' pleasure.

"That's it darlin', let it out," He crooned, "Make those pretty noises for me, yeah?"

Your clothed torso continued to jerk against the sink upon each buck, stomach in a rush of flutters at his words. Utterly swamped by the heated sensations, you, once again, trapped the very plush of your lip beneath the force your teeth. Lids screwed together, you - so slightly - lowered your head, revelling in such overwhelming impurity.

Sight snapped back, the cold hand upon your neck vastly altered your vision, fixating it upon the mirror once more.

"Keep your eyes on that mirror for me." Sirius grunted, a waver to his tone - authority crackling with far lighter, far airier sounds.

Obeying without a mere second thought, it was as though his instruction fizzled within your pitted abdomen, arousal only furthered as his shaft glided in and out of your drenched hole.

"I'm getting close." You mewled, words both breathy and humid as you felt the friction of a tightly wound knot in your stomach.

"Fuck.." He drawled, "So am I."

Nothing but fixated upon the sight of Sirius' tender grasp of your flesh, veins accentuating his hands, you grew lost beyond repair within the depth of your shared arousal.

Brought to the very brink of your release, the knot suddenly unwound itself, euphoria washing over your entirety with the intense force of a tidal wave - body harshly jolting against the cold, raised surface of the sink as a helpless whine was yanked from your throat.

As your balmy, rapid pulses wrapped his cock, Sirius slid himself from your entrance - a deep, pent-up groan fell from his mouth as thick, hot ribbons painted your hips.

Both frantically scurrying to steady your - rather disfigured  - pattern of breaths, your gazes soon crossed in the mirror, swiftly set upon one and other as the pair of you cracked soft, light smiles.

"Let's get out of here."

Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed! Please feel free to use the asks feature on my page for requests of oneshots/drabbles/blurbs etc.. would be greatly appreciated, though I will be responding to them after kinktober since i’m doing the full month! <3

[neonponders]

Part 14 for @wrecked-fuse ‘s pocketverse 🍿

Part 13

(Part 9′s art 🌹) ( pt. 7′s art 🧁)

~ on ao3 ~

• • •

Robin’s eyes alighted on the pair striding into the video store. She finished with the only customer in the store fast - and a bit rudely - but it’s not like they worked for tips. Max held the door for them on their way out, and Robin and Steve crowded Billy to take the lid off the box.

“Hey, little man,” Steve cooed. “What’s going on?”

Little Steve yanked on his seat belt ribbon and ran to little Billy’s bed. “His tummy uppy, Stevie! Hewlp!”

His hair bobbed over his eyes as he looked up at big Billy. “What did they eat? Did they eat anything weird?”

Billy’s voice rumbled from his chest as he guarded, “He got a taste of carbonation.”

“Carb- like a soda?” Then Steve’s face went blank with realization. “You didn’t let him drink beer, did you?”

“He got a sip before I could stop him.”

A small voice intercepted, “It’s my fawlt...”

Robin frowned. “I doubt this can be your fault.”

He fiddled with his fingers before holding up a hand. “I huwrt my hand. Big Biwwy let me hold his dwink to feewl bettewr. My Biwwy took a sip sip.”

Robin consoled, “It’s not your fault. Thing is, it’s no one’s fault. These things happen. I drank my mom’s wine and then ruined my grandma’s antique couch.”

Max, Billy, and Steve stared at her before the latter remarked, “Thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome.”

Max provided, “For what it’s worth, he didn’t really act any different. I mean...he really liked kicking stuff around, but he wasn’t drunk.”

Little Steve piped in, “His tummy is weally noisy!”

That had big Steve’s mouth relaxing into a silent, Oh...before he asked, “B, can I touch your belly?”

He got a whine as a response but he took the bedroom box and set it on the counter. Pulling on the ribbon to get it out of the way, he carefully touched all over Billy’s torso. “I think you’ve got gas.”

Little Steve asked, “What’s gas?”

Large Billy answered, “Bubbles.”

The former gasped. “Oh, Biwwy...”

Robin looked at Steve when he announced, “I have an idea. Turn the popcorn machine on.”

“Okay, why?”

“It vibrates and it’s warm.”

Max made a face. “Uh. Huh?”

Steve gestured the flat of his hand into the box. “B-Man needs to fart. What, have you never had to pass gas?”

“Old,” Robin accused from the other side of the video store.

“B-Man?” Billy smirked as he reached in and little Steve helped small Billy onto his palm.

Large Steve grabbed one of their comforters and put it on top of the popcorn machine. “This can get a little hot, but you’ll be safe as long as you’re on the bedding. I’m gonna massage your belly until the popcorn gets going.”

Small Billy whined as big Billy eased him onto the comforter, “Don’t pwess my tummy.”

Steve opened his mouth to reassure, but big Billy reassured, “We’re getting things moving. The bubbles staying still are causing the pain.”

The little one groaned but blinked softly as small Steve scooted himself under the blond head. “Piwwow, Biwwy. Big B and Stevies will take care of you.”

Steve found the small curve of little Billy’s lumbar and cushioned it while he eased the little guy onto his side and started pressing circles over his abdomen with a pinkie.

Small Steve asked, “Is it working?”

Large Billy hushed, “It’ll take a few minutes.”

That little mouth rolled into an anxious line, but he focused on petting the soft, dark blond hair.

Billy watched Steve cradling the little body with the utmost care - impressive, considering Steve touched six feet high and had the hands to match his size.

“Does this hurt?”

“Mm...um. A wittle.”

Steve expanded his circles. “Better?”

“Mmhm,” little Billy settled.

Steve could feel larger eyes on him. He glanced back at Max helping herself to gummy worms, and then looked at Billy, who inquired, “Where did you learn this?”

Steve shrugged and admitted, “Are you even lactose intolerant if you don’t relentlessly eat dairy? Instant gratification first, pain later.”

Billy chuckled and leaned down to slouch over the counter. “Your little guy seems to be doing fine, though.”

“He’s better at eating fruit and yogurt than yours is. I got his bowels on a schedule.”

“Ew, Steve,” Robin grimaced in passing. She handed Max a bottle of water and cracked open a ginger ale for herself. “But that does beg the question: what dietary stuff should we be warned about, on the lil man’s behalf?”

Max’s eyes lolled in their sockets, supremely bored. “Billy drinks beer all the time. He belches like a shitty dragon.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” Robin concluded. “Lilly Billy doesn’t know how to burp.”

Big Billy intervened, “Keep it up with the names and your bike will disappear.”

“Careful,” she smiled. “The whole town knows your self esteem is in your car.”

Steve glared at them with the warning, “Children, please? This is basically a doctor’s office right now. Respect my patient.”

As if on cue, a high pitched sound plucked the air. They almost ignored it, except for little Steve giggling and chirping, “Toot.”

Big Steve smiled. “Progress.”

Max laughed and tore a gummy worm with her teeth while Robin congratulated, “One for luck, two for glory.”

“Ah!” little Steve startled when the first kernel blew.

“It’s about to get noisy,” big Steve reassured. “Hold onto him.”

Tall Billy’s eyes watched his little self reach up to reciprocate small Steve holding onto him as the machine started to rattle with popcorn commotion. Another too-toot! escaped his butt and he exhaled with palpable relief. Robin applauded but also warned, “You unlocked something.”

Steve laughed but disregarded, “Farts are harmless compared to the mayhem these two cause.”

He paused when Billy reached into his space, a careful finger rubbing small Steve’s back. “Thanks for looking after him, chipmunk.”

The way the Family Video lighting sparkled off of little Steve’s eyes, Billy wondered if he genuinely had tiny stars and planets in those big brown eyes. A big smile matched rose cheeks. “Welwcome, Biwwy! Biwwys will ahways be okay with Stevies awound.”

Billy’s eyes softly rolled onto Steve. “He’s really singing your sales pitch.”

Steve shook his head as if something were obvious. “I keep saying that I’m a hot commodity -”

Max barked, “Cool. Go out for burgers and bring me back a milkshake.”

“Maxine,” Billy growled.

Steve clipped, “B isn’t going anywhere near a fry until he experiences the jammy goodness that is a prune.”

Robin taunted, “You look good with those grey hairs, Harrington.”

He tossed his head in the direction of the break room. “Who stocks your lunch yogurts, Buckley?”

Attention swiveled to Billy laughing, “Maybe King Steve is having a dry spell because all you talk about is shit and fruit.”

Steve might’ve had something spiteful to say, if small Billy hadn’t called tiredly, “Stevie?”

“Yeah, buddy?”

His voice rattled a little from the soothing vibrations of the popcorn machine. “Can we have noodwes?”

“Noodles? My nacho noodles?”

The littles smiled in confirmation as large Billy gaped at him. “Excuse me?”

Steve looked at him like this was totally rational. “Nacho noodles. You mix the dipping cheese with a little tomato sauce and top some egg noodles with, like, beans, veg, and stuff.”

“There’s a special prison for people like you.”

“People with ingenuity and good taste?”

“There are Italian and Mexican grandmothers rolling in their grave.”

“I’ve had Mexican and Italian grandmas invite me over for dinner more often than their granddaughters,” Steve countered.

That got a laugh from Billy that tipped his head up toward the ceiling. And another fart from the little one.

[nevernonline]

hi i was wondering if I could request a little expansion on Joshua in the ask you got about the 95s taking care of their sick s/o, im a huge greys fan and loved imagining him taking care of someone that way haha.

lmao I also love grey's. I used to watch it sm with my mom when I was def tew young for it. christina yang made me want a medical career fr fr. pls enjoy, bbg. xx

"Y/n. The doctor is in"

Joshua walked through the open door of your shared bedroom where you sat under the covers and multiple piled blankets on top, cuddling into your pillows sick with the flu.

He was dressed in a matching set of blue pajamas with a white Terry cloth robe over top, adorned in childlike stickers. In his hands he held tray on top of it a thermometer, a box of latex gloves, and a cup of red jello.

"I'm already feeling better, Shua. I think we can drop the act now."

"It's Dr. Hong, come on."

Rolling your eyes you pushed yourself up further on the bed into a sitting position, where you were met with your overly loving boyfriend pushing a pillow behind your lumbar region.

"Wow, he even got the good name brand cherry jello. Doctor, you're very impressive."

"Anything for my favorite patient. I also have chocolate pudding if that tickles your fancy more."

"Nope, I weirdly prefer jello. Not a chocolate fan."

"I knew you had to have a red flag somewhere."

Opening his own mouth as an instruction to open yours, you obliged and he placed the metal tip of the thermometer under your tongue.

"Wow, 98.6. It's a miracle, do you think once you're discharged I can take you on a date?"

"You're very good at your job, Dr. Hong. I think falling for your patients breaches a part of your contract though."

"I can't help it, especially when my patient is as beautiful as you. Even when you laugh and have boogers falling from your nose like a waterfall."

Slapping his arm, you then used it to pat the bed next to you begging for him to sit down.

"I didn't know people could be attracted to snot, yet everyday I'm surprised."

A kiss was placed on your forehead.

"Not warm at all."

Then your two cheeks, slightly missing the tip of your nose.

"Warmer."

A final one was placed on your semi-dry lips.

"Perfect."

"So, all clear doc?"

"I think you're ready for a night on the town with your handsome boyfriend, yes."

And with one more kiss, Joshua opens the small tub of jello, faking you out by placing the spoon headed for you into his own mouth you were cured by your not so doctor boyfriend.

[transgenderer]

The musculature of the short-beaked echidna has a number of unusual aspects. The panniculus carnosus, an enormous muscle just beneath the skin, covers the entire body.[45] By contraction of various parts of the panniculus carnosus, the short-beaked echidna can change shape, the most characteristic shape change being achieved by rolling itself into a ball when threatened, so protecting its belly and presenting a defensive array of sharp spines. It has one of the shortest spinal cords of any mammal, extending only as far as the thorax.[46] Whereas the human spinal cord ends at the first or second lumbar vertebra, for the echidna it occurs at the seventh thoracic vertebra. The shorter spinal cord is thought to allow flexibility to enable wrapping into a ball.[47]

The panniculus carnosus is a part of the subcutaneous tissues in vertebrates. It is a layer of striated muscle deep to the panniculus adiposus.[1] In humans, the platysma muscle of the neck, palmaris brevis in the hand, and the dartos muscle in the scrotum are described as a discrete muscle of the panniculus carnosus. Some of the muscles of facial expression in the head are part of the panniculus carnosus. In other parts of the body, the layer is vestigial, and may be absent or may exist only as microscopic, disconnected fibers.

The musculature of the face, jaw and tongue is specialised for feeding. The tongue is the animal's sole means of catching prey, and can protrude up to 180 mm (7 in) outside the snout.[22] The snout's shape, resembling a double wedge, gives it a significant mechanical advantage in generating a large moment, so makes it efficient for digging to reach prey or to build a shelter.[48] The tongue is sticky because of the presence of glycoprotein-rich mucus, which both lubricates movement in and out of the snout and helps to catch ants and termites, which adhere to it. The tongue is protruded by contracting circular muscles that change the shape of the tongue and force it forwards and contracting two genioglossal muscles attached to the caudal end of the tongue and to the mandible. The protruded tongue is stiffened by a rapid flow of blood, which allows it to penetrate wood and soil. Retraction requires the contraction of two internal longitudinal muscles, known as the sternoglossi. When the tongue is retracted, the prey is caught on backward-facing keratinous "teeth", located along the roof of the buccal cavity, allowing the animal both to capture and grind food.[26][49] The tongue moves with great speed, and has been measured to move in and out of the snout 100 times a minute.[22][50] This is partly achieved through the elasticity of the tongue and the conversion of elastic potential energy into kinetic energy.[49] The tongue is very flexible, particularly at the end, allowing it to bend in U-turns and catch insects attempting to flee in their labyrinthine nests or mounds.[51] The tongue also has an ability to avoid picking up splinters while foraging in logs; the factors behind this ability are unknown.[49] It can eat quickly; a specimen of around 3 kg (6.6 lb) can ingest 200 g (7.1 oz) of termites in 10 minutes.[52]

The echidna's stomach is quite different from other mammals. It is devoid of secretory glands and has a cornified stratified epithelium, which resembles horny skin. Unlike other mammals, which typically have highly acidic stomachs, the echidna has low levels of acidity, almost neutral, with pH in the 6.2–7.4 range. The stomach is elastic, and gastric peristalsis grinds soil particulates and shredded insects together. Digestion occurs in the small intestine, which is around 3.4 m (11 ft) in length. Insect exoskeletons and soil are not digested, being ejected in the waste.[52]

The leathery snout is keratinised and covered in mechano- and thermoreceptors, which provide information about the surrounding environment.[57][60] These nerves protrude through microscopic holes at the end of the snout,[61] which also has mucus glands on the end that act as electroreceptors. Echidnas can detect electric fields of 1.8 mV/cm—1000 times more sensitive than humans—and dig up buried batteries.[62] A series of push rods protrude from the snout. These are columns of flattened, spinous cells, with roughly an average diameter of 50 micrometres (0.0020 in) and a length of 300 micrometres (0.012 in). The number of push rods per square millimetre of skin is estimated to be 30 to 40.[63]Longitudinal waves are believed to be picked up and transmitted through the rods, acting as mechanical sensors, to allow prey detection.[64]

Numerous physiological adaptations aid the lifestyle of the short-beaked echidna. Because the animal burrows, it must tolerate very high levels of carbon dioxide in inspired air, and will voluntarily remain in situations where carbon dioxide concentrations are high. It can dig up to a metre into the ground to retrieve ants or evade predators, and can survive with low oxygen when the area is engulfed by bushfires. The echidna can also dive underwater, which can help it to survive sudden floods. During these situations, the heart rate drops to around 12 beats per minute, around one-fifth of the rate at rest. This process is believed to save oxygen for the heart and brain, which are the most sensitive organs to such a shortage; laboratory testing has revealed the echidna's cardiovascular system is similar to that of the seal.[38] Following the devastation of a bushfire, echidnas can compensate for the lack of food by reducing their daytime body temperature and activity through use of torpor, for a period of up to three weeks.[53]

A well-developed olfactory system may be used to detect mates and prey. A highly sensitive optic nerve has been shown to have visual discrimination and spatial memory comparable to those of a rat.[65] The brain and central nervous system have been extensively studied for evolutionary comparison with placental mammals, particularly with its fellow monotreme, the platypus.[66][67] The average brain volume is 25 ml (0.88 imp fl oz; 0.85 US fl oz), similar to a cat of approximately the same size;[68] while the platypus has a largely smooth brain, the echidna has a heavily folded and fissured, gyrencephalic brain similar to humans, which is seen as a sign of a highly neurologically advanced animal. The cerebral cortex is thinner, and the brain cells are larger and more densely packed and organised in the echidna than the platypus, suggesting evolutionary divergence must have occurred long ago. Almost half of the sensory area in the brain is devoted to the snout and tongue, and the part devoted to smell is relatively large compared to other animals.[69]

The short-beaked echidna has the largest prefrontal cortex relative to body size of any mammal,[66] taking up 50% of the volume in comparison to 29% for humans.[70] This part of the brain in humans is thought to be used for planning and analytical behaviour, leading to debate as to whether the echidna has reasoning and strategising ability.[70][71] Experiments in a simple maze and with a test on opening a trap door to access food, and the echidna's ability to remember what it has learnt for over a month, has led scientists to conclude its learning ability is similar to that of a cat or a rat.[72]

The solitary short-beaked echidna looks for a mate between May and September;[27] the precise timing of the mating season varies with geographic location.[93] In the months before the mating season, the size of the male's testes increases by a factor of three or more before spermatogenesis occurs.[94] Both males and females give off a strong, musky odour during the mating season, by turning their cloacas inside out and wiping them on the ground, secreting a glossy liquid believed to be an aphrodisiac.[42] During courtship—observed for the first time in 1989—males locate and pursue females. Trains of up to 10 males, often with the youngest and smallest male at the end of the queue,[95] may follow a single female in a courtship ritual that may last for up to four weeks; the duration of the courtship period varies with location.[22][96] During this time, they forage for food together, and the train often changes composition, as some males leave and other join the pursuit.[95] In cooler parts of their range, such as Tasmania, females may mate within a few hours of arousal from hibernation.[97]

Before mating, the male smells the female, paying particular attention to the cloaca. This process can take a few hours, and the female can reject the suitor by rolling herself into a ball.[94] After prodding and sniffing her back,[94] the male is often observed to roll the female onto her side and then assume a similar position himself so the two animals are abdomen to abdomen, having dug a small crater in which to lie. They can lie with heads facing one another, or head to rear.[98] If more than one male is in the vicinity, fighting over the female may occur.[98] Each side of the bilaterally symmetrical, rosette-like, four-headed penis (similar to that of reptiles and 7 centimetres (2.8 in) in length) is used alternately, with the other half being shut down between ejaculations. Sperm bundles of around 100 each appear to confer increased sperm motility, which may provide the potential for sperm competition between males.[98][99] This process takes between a half and three hours.[98] Each mating results in the production of a single egg, and females are known to mate only once during the breeding season; each mating is successful.[100]

[seat-safety-switch]

Camping is a much-beloved activity, even with those who live in a house. In case you’re unfamiliar, camping mostly consists of driving to a place in the wilderness and then sleeping there. Ideally, you also set fire to something, but the core value is that of being closer to nature. Experiencing its bounty. Remembering why you have indoor plumbing.

In an attempt to make camping more livable, humanity has produced many specialized vehicles. RVs. Tent trailers. Bolers. Little tiny tents that go behind your bicycle. A van, down by the river. None of them are as appealing as just a bare-ass car, with no modifications, and a back seat that folds down enough that you can sleep halfway in the trunk without completely demolishing your lumbar region.

If you read the newspapers lately, you might have heard about my recent legal troubles. That being so, I don’t think it’s in your right to judge me, because you still read a newspaper in 2023. Where do you even buy those things? Anyway, I had to lie low for a little bit, and the important thing to know about Canadian telecommunications is that your cell phone never works as soon as you are within five minutes of the city limits. Sure, you can pay them seventeen bucks a minute for “roaming,” but nobody is that big of a sucker, even the government. I reasoned that there was no way my parole officer was rich enough to keep my ankle bracelet on the entire time, and so I set out for the grounds-of-camping in order to test the theory.

The first night yielded an excellent sleep: calm, cool air, no light pollution, and the sounds of animals all around lulled me into a deep dream-like state in which the solution to all my problems emerged and then was immediately forgotten upon waking up. The second night was even better, because the incessant lost-signal beeping of my ankle bracelet finally ceased as its batteries expired. Now, without the scarlet letter of its plaintive tone following me around, I could visit my fellow camping enthusiasts and socialize.

Friends: I made it about fifteen minutes. None of these folks had cool old cars, and they seemed to look at my oil-stained visage with a look between terror and pity. The best I could do was one retired couple who were towing their 1997 Saturn SL1 behind their RV, who at least pretended to listen to me when I was telling them about the importance of welding up their diff pin. Ultimately, they had “somewhere to go” and escaped so quickly that the Saturn broke off of their trailer hitch and rolled into the nearby fishing pond, which I decided made the vehicle count as maritime salvage.

Camping was exactly as relaxing as I thought it would be, and I ended up with a new composite-bodied toy to tow behind my Volare. Which is great, because I’m going to need something to drive to the bail hearings after this thing throws a rod on the highway home.

[todderwodders]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Faline/Gortash, the early days +18

Tagged by the lovely @lamortwrites and @nullshocked tagging anyone else who may wanna share something! This is your sign! Post! That! WIP!

Gortash spreads his legs wide on the slopping little chaise set in front of his mirror, away from the humidity of his bath, in perfect view of the day’s natural light. He is naked, his man’s gut hanging over the towel knotted around his waist. It does little to hide him, which Faline suspects is intentional. Not because he expects her to strip her own clothes and service him, there is simply not enough time for that, but rather simply because he can. The outline of a half filled prick, strained against damp cloth, always seems to inspire a strange kind of glee with men when they are in close proximity to objects of desire. Pride in their subpar prick, a half baked seduction that they do not expect but half hope will do the trick of effortlessly landing a bedmate.

Faline resists rolling her eyes.

She has seen him naked many times and while he is not ugly or reeking or particularly crude, his body gives much of himself away.

When Gortash is naked he slouches ever so slightly, limps ever so slightly, one leg favoring the other. The leg is easier to theorize over. He has a cane he does not use enough, he has a lift in one shoe. He stands crooked without support, one leg naturally sloping inwards when he does not put his weight on it. The shins are relatively symmetrical in length, one knee pops fiercely if he is in the cold for too long.

Faline considers this damage to not be related to the state of birth nor one which is obligated by gestation.

Surely, many people are born with unmatching limbs, made worse by the inclination to compensate for such weakness as they grow, the longest limb bearing thicker muscle and bone growing denser than the other.

Most of these people do not whine at the cold, or groan with such relish when they slip into a hot bath, however, as if the pain is persistent and only relieved in small increments where gravity is not so fierce. Repeated breaks, fractures, ripped tendons that take far longer to heal than any bone present themselves to her with each review.

His upper body is more a mystery to her - the way that he is pulled much like a string rung doll, shoulders rolling fascinates her. Very few people she has studied present such inborn change to the spine.

The straight necks of priests and scribes are common, causing a tightness that often leaves their bodies stilted to one side or another, riddled in pains. Often enough is this followed with a curve starting from lumbar to neck, however.

What Gortash seems to possess is a ruination of the spine’s natural curve that is born of a certain, very lucky type of person. The kind with a reputation to speak of, who has in the past, confided in her lap, in tears or boasting loudly, often drunk, about.

The rack for the fancy lads, a sturdy tree and rope for the once dirt poor. The arms are wrenched up and back at an angle and the misery in flesh is left to suffer all the same. Some suffocate as the ribs compress, some have their arms wrenched from the socket. Some die. Some don't. Do it often enough in short periods and much like a wax candle on a hot day, it tilts.

In short, he is a mess. A collection of badly healed wounds over slowly blurring ink designs and hair and muscle.

Gortash leans back. The little piece of vanity from a more strapping youth flits in the sunlight, a gold ring through his belly button that nearly matches her own. “He is a god. He may be as eccentric as he pleases.”

Gods, what a prick.

“Yes, milord.”

He smiles, pulls the towel away before he takes himself in hand. A matching ring decorates the taunt flesh of his foreskin. He tugs at himself lightly, closing his eyes.

“Mass is in half an hour. Milord." He smiles, that slow, thick smile that shows off fangs he does not have.

“So?” He says, running a finger over his balls, the hair on him in this place tightly curled and thick. He somehow smells musky even freshly bathed, pungent and thick on her nose, made less by the cold slip of his aftershave. Nearly sweet, nearly burnt.

She watches him stroke himself, cock filling slightly in his hand. She is glad he may take his sweet time - she thinks of who he will blame when they are late. Not himself, most assuredly.

“Mm,” he says softly, before unceremoniously dropping himself between his legs. “No. No, you're right, fruit. I should wait.”

“Wait,” she parrots. “Going to see someone tonight?”

“Mm, I have a stirring, but I don't know if any one person will be a hassle. Won't you attend–”

“Use your hand, and I will watch very disapprovingly. Perhaps I will be kind and throw a hateful glare your way when you slip a finger into your ass.”

“You are such a treasure.”

“I am a professional.”

[fayes-fics]

When The World Is Free: Chapter 7 - Sneak Peek

Cos I love you all….

Here is a tiny peek at the first paragraph - when our pair wake up the following morning…

——

You are awoken by birdsong beyond the green shutters, and, more perplexing, a warm weight settled around you. It takes a moment to get your bearings. Your face is buried in the crook of Benedict's neck, a woodsy, citrus scent filling your nostrils and stirring your senses. Under the covers, his arms are wrapped around your body, one large hand splayed over your lumbar spine, the other rounding your shoulder. Your breasts are pressed into his broad chest, your legs entangled. One of your own hands appears to be resting on his hip. Moreover, there is something solid and warm pressing low on your belly that makes your blood run hot. You must have both rolled into the middle of the bed during the night and are now clinging to each other.

——

[smute]

also now that i don't have to go back to that doctor, let me show you the world's worst chairs

not only are they TINY, the seat doesn't even extend all the way to the back. so even if you're small enough to fit your thighs in between the two sharp metal bars, half your ass will be hanging off the back of the seat with that weird roll shaped "backrest" pressing into your lumbar spine. but the worst part BY FAR is the fact that due to the wonderful leg arrangement they tip over when you push down on one of the armrests. you know. as one might do when getting up or sitting down with (or even without) an injury (we're talking about an orthopedic surgeon) fjxfjdkgkfj

[solmarillion]

unfriendly reminder to the professor on my exam committee who required a minimum of 30 sources each for 3 bibliographies i had to read within the span of a month: THIS IS NOT HEALTHY. MY BACK IS FUCKING KILLING ME i can't sit in a chair with a lumbar roll either because i keep shifting around in it and can't sit still because of my autism and undiagnosed ADHD. so i literally just have to endure the back pain so i can finish reading. i fucking hate this. i've read 80 ARTICLES in the span of a month. 80 ARTICLES. i only have 10 left but somehow it's the last 10 that are the most painful. physically and mentally. because i am just so done and i need a goddamn break but i literally CAN'T HAVE ONE

[slashingdisneypasta]

Offenderman x Reader || Drabble

Plot: He gives you a rub-down in the shower.

Warnings: Sensual themes throughout, but only really heats up at the end. Though there are sexual ref’s in the dialogue.

~

God, you think, eyelids too heavy to keep open as the pleasure floods your body. It slithers all the way from the tips of your toes gripping the shower floor to your fingertips digging into the tiled walls; Offender’s hands needing the muscles in your back to mush. Honestly, if he didn’t have 3 strong tentacles wrapped around your middle keeping you up, you’d be a crumpled mess on the floor.

Hot water sprays down across your skin, and steam hovers in your face, increasing the sensations that are already overloading your system. His thumbs continue to rub circles up your spine, from your lumbar at the bottom to the cervical bones leading up the back of your neck. Then he spreads his attention out across your shoulder blades.

When he leads touches down your neglected arms, pulling the skin as he goes, a moan that’s down right friggen pornographic tears its way out of the bowels of your chest. Fortunately, you’re too doped up to care, despite what Offender says when he leans down and presses a sharp toothed smirk into your neck.

“Damn, sweetheart… I never got a sound like that out of you with my tongue… What am I supposed to do about that, huh doll?~”

“Oh, whatever you like. Just not right now… “You whine back, rolling your neck back into his fingers that are once again digging perfectly into your skin.

He chuckles and his breath is hot against your skin. “No problem… I gotcha.” A sigh escapes you when he continues, only pressing a rough kiss to the side of your neck before returning to his full height- or at least as far as he can get, hunched over you in this little shower cubicle.

The tentacles around your middle tighten and pull you carefully up straighter on your weak legs, then Offender starts kneading his strong knuckles up your back. You just know those knuckles have been used to hurt people, so so many people, and you’ve even wrapped them up yourself too many times to count, but right now they feel like heaven.

“… fuck… “A wonky, half-smirk slips across your face when something occurs to you, spreading your fingers further wide against the tiles on the wall.  

“Hm, what?~ “ Offender asks, voice dangerous of course but not imminently.

You turn to look over your shoulder. “I was just thinking… A massage in the shower? … I must really have you whipped… huh?”

A slow grin slips across his face, baring sharp teeth for tearing out throats and intimidating victims. “C’mere.” He turns you around carefully, pressing your back gently into the cool tiles now. As your arms glide up over his shoulders so you can hang off of him, he presses his body flat against yours and one gentle, half assed thrust has you keening and closing your eyes again.

God…

“… Let me show you who’s whipped, doll… “Offender whispers, tentacles curling around your ankles and tugging them ever-so-gently apart from eachother.