a stand up guy

queerlyonice  asked:

What's your opinion on the cult ending?

I’m down with the idea of more story fleshing out all the loose ends they left in the breeze á la Hatoful and that kinda thing, but the idea that Joseph was actually an evil demon cultist the whole time and he’s been actively trying to make everyone miserable is just lazy writing that undoes a lot of the really tasteful, empathetic nuance to the complicated situation Robert, Joseph, and Mary are stuck in.

I’d be down with it being the “real end” if it was more like “generally stand-up guy and pillar of the community Joseph Christiansen gets possessed by that cryptid Robert was warning everybody about the whole time, everyone’s gotta band together to save their buddy and contain this weird entity trying to corrupt the town” and less “Haha psyche you thought he was a nice guy but really he was a pile of lazy stereotypes about evil gay priests all along”.

But it’s not *officially* in the game (yet?) so I don’t want to waste too much energy on deciding how I feel about it until it’s actually a thing.

hey yo @ horrible customers
please don’t call me doll. don’t call me sweetheart. or dear. or honey. or baby.
it’s not ok. you may think it’s harmless, or a compliment, but it makes me uncomfortable.
no, I am not being “overly sensitive.”

why does it bother me? a lot of reasons. You may mean well when you say it. It may be a habit or you’re trying to give me a compliment. either way it still makes me uncomfortable. you wouldn’t call my male coworkers a pet name like that, would you? no? whys that? you don’t want to “compliment” them?

it bothers me because the people who are allowed to call me those names are family. my mom calls me honey. my boyfriend calls me doll and sweetheart. you are a stranger. You don’t get to use personal pet names on me, a stranger. that’s not okay.

you wanna know another reason why it bothers me? I am 5'2. you are big and tall and unfamiliar and weigh twice as much as I do. and I can’t tell you not to call me names like that, because if that makes you upset? there’s not much I can do to defend myself, and yes, that scares me.

Just take your damn coffee and go.

sincerely,
Not Your Sweetheart

anonymous asked:

NTAMW tells you he has rape urges because of his past trauma that is trying oh so hard to control, claims to have thought a few girl's he selpt with were only a few years under the age limited (still wrong) then admits later he knew they were way younger. Refers to woman with degrading names like "bitties" and acts like he is joking. Black mails woman with nudes because "the cool kids bullied him and after he got nudes from them the cool girls would stand up to the guys" Likes 50 shades etc.

❗❗❗

I think baby boomers’ tendency to get very mad at slow service goes hand in hand with their dislike of smart phones. Every situation I’ve been in where service is slow? I just whip out my phone and browse apps for the extra 30 seconds. It’s not a big deal. Meanwhile Landline Howard behind me in line who’s never held a smartphone in his life is bored with nothing to occupy his time so he yells at minimum wage workers instead.

Public reaction to the butch-fem couple [in the 1940s] was usually hostile, and often violent. Being noticed on the streets and the harassment that followed dominates the memories of both Black and white narrators. Ronni gives a typical description:

“Oh, you were looked down upon socially. When I walked down the streert, cars used to pull over and say, ‘Hey faggot, hey lezzie.’ They called you names with such maliciousness. And they hated to see you when you were with a girl. I was the one that was mostly picked on because I was identified. I was playing the male part in this relationship and most guys hated it. Women would look at me in kind of a confused looking [way], you know, straight women would look at me in kind of wonder.”

Piri remembers how the police used to harass her for dressing like a man:

“I’ve had the police walk up to me and say, ‘Get out of the car’. I’m drivin’. They say get out of the car; and I get out. And they say, ‘What kind of shoes you got on? You got on men’s shoes?’ And I say, ‘No, I got on women’s shoes.’ I got on some basket-weave women’s shoes. And he say, ‘Well you damn lucky.’ ‘Cause everything else I had on were men’s–shirts, pants. At that time when they pick you up, if you didn’t have on two garments that belong to a woman you could go to jail…and the same thing with a man…. They call it male impersonation or female impersonation and they’d take you downtown. It would really just be an inconvenience…. It would give them the opportunity to whack the shit out of you.”

Many narrators mention the legal specification for proper dress, although some said it required three pieces of female clothing, not two. If such a law did in fact exist, it did not dramatically affect the appearance of butches, who were clever at getting around it while maintaining their masculine image. The police used such regulations to harass Black lesbians more than whites, however.

Given the severe harassment, the butch role in these communities during the 1950s became identified with defending oneself and one’s girl in the rough street bars and on the streets. Matty describes the connection between her appearance and her need to be an effective fighter. The cultivated masculine mannerisms were necessary on the street:

“When I first came out in the bars it was a horror story. You know they say that you play roles. Yeag, back then you did play roles, and I was a bit more masculine back then than I am now. That was only because you walk down the street and they knew you were gay and you’d be minding your business and there’d be two or three guys standing on a street corner, and they’d come up to you and say, ‘You want to be a man, let’s see if you can fight like a man.’ Now being a man was the last thing on my mind, but man, they’d take a poke at you and you had to learn to fight. Then…when you go out, you better wear clothes that you could really scramble in if you had to. And it got to be really bad, I actually had walked down the street with some friends not doing anything and had people spit at me, or spit at us, it was really bad.”

[…] If the world was dangerous for butches, it was equally dangerous for the fems in their company, whom the butches felt they needed to protect. Some butches state that they did most of their fighting for their fems. Sandy describes how confrontational men could be.

“Well you had to be strong–roll with the punches. If some guy whacked you off, said, ‘Hey babe,’ you know. Most of the time you got all your punches for the fem anyhow, you know. It was because they hated you….’How come this queer can have you and I can do this and that….’ You didn’t hardly have time to say anything, but all she would have to say [is] ‘No,’ when he said, ‘Let’s go, I’ll get you away from this.’ He was so rejected by this ‘no’ that he would boom, go to you. You would naturally get up and fight the guy, at least I would. And we did that all the time, those that were out in their pants and T-shirts. And we’d knock them on their ass, and if one couldn’t do it we’d all help. And that’s how we kept our women. They cared for us, but you don’t think for a minute they would have stayed with us too long or something if we stood there and just were silent…. Nine times out of ten she’d be with you to help you with your black eye and your split lip. Or you kicked his ass and she bought you dinner then. But you never failed, or you tried not to…. You were there, you were gay, you were queer and you were masculine.”

–Elizabeth Kennedy and Madeline Davis, Boots of Leather, Slippers of Gold: The History of a Lesbian Community

Keith in the Garrison
  • Person A: man you know Keith Kogane is the most responsible person ever!
  • Person B: I heard Iverson called him a model student
  • Lance, who over heard them: yeah whatever blah blah responsible Keith blah blah
  • Keith, running up to where Hunk, Pidge and Lance are standing: listen you guys don't know me and I don't know you but I just blew up a fucking washing machine in the laundry room and I'm gonna need some help

jake gyllenhaal really seems like a genuinely trustworthy guy like i feel like i could tell him things and he’d actually listen seems like a stand up guy

6

I fiiiiinally finished my Dishonored whale sculpt! This poor thing has been sitting unbaked and neglected on my mantelpiece for actual months now, and I finally had the time and energy to work on it. I might still do a little touching up. I also need a proper stand for this guy eventually.

This thing was absolutely riddled with problems from start to finish, not the least of which being the fact that I’m out of practice with sculpture because of how rarely I do it. So I’m not 100% happy with this. I still like it though!

Process shots here!

Something Has Caught My Attention - Please Read...

Dear Shauna’s ( @exosmutxoxo‘s ) followers (and avid readers in general~),


A few things have been brought to my attention recently, and it has me extremely. disturbed. While Shauna and I both actively encourage our followers to message and communicate with us, Shauna has received several messages in the past few days that are inappropriate, unwarranted, and downright disrespectful.


Exhibit A.

“Can i make a suggestion for the smutty bit in part 5? Rape scene pls?”

Exhibit B.

“Why are you getting so stressed out over the smut scene lmao just make him fuck her against her will, whats the problem”

Exhibit C.

“A rape scene between them would be hot HEHE MAKE IT HAPPEN AUTHOR-NIM”


*Please know that this is merely a fraction of the inappriopriate messages Shauna (and other authors) have received in the past. I will take this moment to elaborate that RAPE OF ANY COLOR, SHAPE, OR SIZE IS NOT OKAY, AND SHOULD NOT BE MADE LIGHT OF WITHIN FANFICTION


Although we acknowledge that the majority of our followers, you, are significantly understanding and compassionate when it comes to writing, it has become increasingly apparent that there are many who are negligent to the fact that Shauna is a hard-working author who writes as an act of unselfish, unpaid love. 

She does not write because you demand a recreation of your sexual fantasies

She does not write because you can’t jack off on your own

And she certainly does not write because of impersonal, disgusting, and utterly revolting messages like this

Authors write fanfiction because they gain fulfillment in knowing that someone, anyone out there appreciates, supports, and enjoys reading their work. Authors write fanfiction because it’s what they love. Writing fanfiction, even a piece that is just 1,000 words, can take grueling hours of repetitive writing and erasing, writing and erasing, until we have created a piece that we feel is acceptable for us to present to you.

Shauna is working relentlessly to entertain her followers with exquisitely-crafted stories, and in this case, stories that are 10k+ words a piece. She’s been stressing out because of the requests which she has committed herself to writing out of love for her followers. Which, I may remind her, she is not obligated, nor under contract, to fulfill. This applies to every writer who accepts requests: they write them out of love, and on their own accord, and this by no means justifies the bashing and hate that writers receive for not completing them.

And unfortunately, this incident isn’t contained to just Shauna’s experiences. Recently, I’ve heard from several of my mutuals, coming to me and explaining nasty-grams, insensitive messages pertaining to altering the plot/details of their writing, and requests calling for scenes that are downright disgusting. It disheartens me greatly to know that my mutuals, my friends have been putting up with this for so long, and continue to put up with this, sometimes on a daily basis.

This is why YOU matter.

YOU, the reader, have just as much power and influence as we, the authors do.

Be the person to send your favorite authors a note of encouragement. I promise, the only reaction your message will receive will be an incoherent strand of words on the other side of the screen, as the recipient of the message is overcome with gratitude and a surplus of self-esteem. 

A simple message can make an author feel like they have the power to write a scene they’ve tried rewriting 9 times and still can’t seem to fix. 

A simple message can allow an author confidence that they can rest, and that they are, in fact, human.

A simple message is all it takes to fight back against the indecency that the few undesirable members of the fanfiction community decide to commit on the regular.

And lastly, thank YOU, the few, the proud, that send such support, love, and encouragement to your local authors. YOU may think we get tired of it, but never forget that YOU are most likely the reason we still write today, and the reason we didn’t give up before.


With love and in due grace,

~Nunchi (”Mama Nunchi”) Writes

Originally posted by 2mainstreamhipster

Play Me // A Dylan O’Brien Smut

Relationship: Dylan O’Brien x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Daddy Kink, Oral (both), Spanking, Teasing, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Unprotected Sex, and Swearing.

Word Count: 4,915

Song: Despacito by Luis Fonsi Ft. Daddy Yankee and Justin Bieber

A/N: This is 100% because of the video that came out. The second I saw him playing the drums again, my mind immediately went to sin. I MEAN FUUUCK LOOK AT THIS GIF PEOPLE, HOW CAN IT NOT? Also, thanks to @stilinski-jpeg for keeping me sane throughout the writing process of this fic. Love you so much! 💖

In case you haven’t seen the video or you want to watch it again on loop if you’re like me. 

Fuck, I moaned internally as I watched him lick his plump lips in pure concentration, an immediate ache already rushing to my core just at the sight of Dylan’s sinful tongue.

His fingers were curled around the drumsticks and his muscles were flexed against his biceps with each movement he made as he played the drums in front of me. It took every piece of discipline I had in me to continue playing my saxophone and not toss it on the ground just to throw myself at him. Dylan had such an effect on me that I was constantly turned on whenever I was around him — and he doesn’t even have to do much to get me worked up. Just the way he is can get me easily horny alone.

It all started the night we first created this blues band. He was the drummer we recruited along with his friends Thomas and Dexter for strings and vocals. The three were undoubtedly talented and the perfect additions to our band, but Dylan… he was the perfect addition to my body. That first night the entire band partied to celebrate the arrivals and drinks were the main theme. One thing led to the other and, the next thing I knew, I was rushed into the nearest bathroom and being pushed up against the closed door. Dylan’s calloused hands gripping my leg and hitching it across his waist as he pounds into me mercilessly, fucking me so hard that I couldn’t walk the next day.

His eyes looked up at me for the slightest second and I could see the small smirk dangling from the corner of his lips, my breath hitching in my throat and disrupting my saxophone playing. Dylan noticed the way his smirk made me feel the need to press my thighs together and decided to play even dirtier by winking. I immediately moaned which came out as a strangled note from my instrument. The entire band looked at me with judgemental eyes at my horrid playing, but I was too busy focusing on Dylan chuckling lowly to himself.

“Alright!” I frustratedly shouted, surprising everyone in the studio. “Can we just please take a break from jamming right now? We’ve been at this for hours!”

Our vocalist shrugged carelessly and looked to his fellow bandmates, all shrugging as well before Tommy spoke up. “I guess we should. Maybe we can get something to eat?”

“Yes!” Dexter sat up from his stool, smacking his hands together. “Let’s go to that restaurant we had dinner at yesterday! They had the fucking best chicken fried rice.”

Everyone else agreed, each sharing the food they desperately wanted to eat there again. Well, all except for Dylan and I who were too busy staring at one another, lust burning our pupils to the point of no return. His eyes dipped for the slightest second to rake all over my body, gazing at the low-cut in my crop top before his eyes returned to mine with a cocky grin now invading his pink lips.

“You know, I think we should play our song one more time.” Dylan spoke up, his eyes never leaving me. My own narrowed, immediately understanding how much he still wanted to tease me. “To get it perfect before we officially record it.”

Again, everyone shrugged and agreed with his suggestion. Usually, I love how open they all are for anything but not today, not when I desperately want to feel Dylan’s dick twitching inside of me again as it quickly rubs against my tight walls.

“No, I think we should eat.” I counterparted, pulling the strap of the saxophone off my neck and placing the instrument in its case. “We need the break.”

“Maybe you need the break, kitten.” He raised an eyebrow tauntingly. “I mean, you do seem tense. What’s gotten you all worked up?”

The glare I gave him was nothing short of intense and full of raging fire. He and I both knew what he was doing, especially since he used that damn nickname that did inexplicable things to me. The entire band’s eyes were fixed on me and Dylan used the opportunity to run his fingers over his scruff as he winked yet again, fully aware of his power against me.

Fine then, two can play at this game.

“Having to constantly blow.” I retorted and it was my turn to smirk when his eyes widened. “The instrument, I mean.”

“Well I think you blow just perfectly.”

I was certainly glad that everyone else in the room was terrible at picking up on our innuendos and the incredibly strong sexual tension between Dylan and I. We haven’t exactly told anyone about us yet — mainly because we don’t even know if there is an us. We’ve been hooking up whenever it was convenient but with Dylan’s crazy schedule, it’s been pretty hard to maintain a physical relationship let alone possibly start an emotional one.

“Just one more?” Dylan teased and my mind immediately went to all of the times I begged him to quit pleasuring me when I was already so overstimulated, but he just kept going at it. “And then, I’ll- we’ll stop.”

“Just. One. More.” I stated through clenched teeth.

Picking up my instrument again, Dylan’s eyes were hooked on me as I licked my lips and wrapped them around the tip of my saxophone. The rest of the band members prepared themselves again and Dylan tapped his drumsticks three times to indicate the starting tempo. As soon as he was finished, we were all off and the song started playing beautifully. Despite not missing and mistaking a single note, Dylan and I focused on each other instead of our instruments. The walls of the studio were shaking at how loudly he was playing, each bang vibrating through the floor and into my body. It only made the aching in my core grow even more uncomfortable as it vibrated my cunt, forcing me to hold back any moan I wanted to release.

I watched as his head nodded along with the rhythm he created, his knees bouncing up and down as his feet continuously slammed on the bass pedal to carry the entire beat of the song. I hated to admit it, but our music would be nothing without Dylan’s talented drum skills. He was undoubtedly enjoying himself, the melody completing taking over his body… except for the eyes boring into mine that is.

Fuck, it should be illegal to look that fucking good playing the drums.

I thanked the Lord when the song was finally over and I managed to play every single note without letting Dylan distract me, despite almost falling prey to him many times. He put the drumsticks down on the floor and picked up the green bottle of beer from it instead, his lips pouting as he took a long sip. I was practically drooling at the sight of his adam’s apple moving up and down as he swallowed the bitter liquid. Everyone else, including me, put their instruments away for the time being.

“Time for grub!” Dexter celebrated and the entire room boomed with laughter at his excitement for food. Normally, I would be right there with him but at this moment all I could truly focus on were the way Dylan’s eyes were calling me.

“You guys go ahead.” Dylan stated, standing up. “I think I’d rather eat Chipotle.”

“You sure?” Tommy asked, everybody already at the door. “You should come eat with us so you’re not alone.”

“He won’t be alone. I’ll go with him.” I spoke up, clearing my throat. “Gotta have those delicious chicken cutlets.”

“Suit yourselves.” He shrugged, guiding everyone out of the studio and closing its door behind them.

It was as if the second that door sealed shut, every bit of sexual tension we were trying to keep to ourselves was released out into the air. Just the thought of what was undeniably about to happen next made my pulse accelerate, my heart pounding against my chest. I wasn’t the only one effected as I watched Dylan take slow steps towards me as if I were a magnet pulling him in closer and closer. He was practically undressing me with his eyes and usually I would blush at such a forward act, but now right now. Right now, all I want him to do is give into the lustful things his eyes are telling me.

“So,” I broke the silence, my breath unstable as he finally reached me and placed his hand on the small of my back. His lips brushing against my neck, making goosebumps cover my skin. “How about we go eat take out?”

“No, kitten.” He whispered, my body shivering at the feeling of his lips touching my ear. “I’d rather eat you out, instead.”

Dylan’s mouth immediately moved to mine and he crashed his lips against my own. I couldn’t help but moan into our sudden kiss, throwing my arms around his neck. His skillful lips meshed with mine in such a fiery and passionate pace, he almost made me lose my balance. My hands didn’t just remain on his neck as he successfully seduces me, but ventured over his back and explored the amazing feeling of his flexed muscles pressed against my palm. Our breaths mingled before Dylan licked my bottom lip with his tongue and I instinctively opened it for his tongue to have its very welcome entrance. I could taste the alcohol in his mouth along with the mint from his toothpaste and all of my senses were heightened, begging for more of him.

I broke the kiss, but he chose to continue teasing me as his lips moved to my jaw then my neck. Not even bothering to hide the fact that he was currently creating a purple bruise on my skin with his smooth assaults. My fingers gripped onto his back, my nails digging into our band’s t-shirt. He chuckled on my neck and I instantly whimpered at the resonance.

“Please, I have been unbelievably horny since the moment you walked through that door today.” I moaned. “Just fucking do something already.”

“Patience, kitten.” Dylan retorted, his fingers moving to the hem of my high-waisted skirt just to tease me. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“Not when their friends will be back soon.” I mewled.

“Honestly, they could walk in on us fucking and I wouldn’t even stop.” Dylan nibbled on my ear. “Now, kitten, tell me all of the things you want my mouth to do to you. Teach me your favorite places.”

“You already know my favorite places, Dylan.” I responded and definitely didn’t miss the cocky grin he played on my skin.

“Just because of that impeccable response I’ll give you want you want, babygirl.” He whispered huskily before moving his hands to the back of my knees and lifting me up.

This time I was the one who started the desperate kiss as he walked forwards, my back suddenly hitting the wall behind me. I lost my rhythm with his lips and failed to remain the dominant one when his hands massaged the back of my thighs, sparking more desire throughout my entire body. Just as I was about to try and get my power back, Dylan unexpectedly broke our kiss. Our panting breaths hitting each other’s faces before he started to push me up. I looked at him with wide eyes, but allowed him to do whatever it is he’s planning to do. The next thing I know, I’m so high up that he wraps my legs around his neck.

With my legs dangling over his shoulders, Dylan moved one of his hands to my inner thigh and purposely drummed his fingers on my skin before reached the area closest to my core. I bucked my hips for him to do more and, to my surprise, he actually did. Dylan suddenly ripped apart the thong I wore and felt no remorse towards ruining something I owned, and, honestly, neither did I. I was so glad there finally wasn’t anything keeping him from touching me anymore that I didn’t even bother to think about the consequences.

“Fuck, you weren’t kidding about how horny you are.” Dylan chuckled, certainly staring at the arousal covering my cunt. My hips twitched the second his finger swiped through my slick folds and a shameless moan fell from my lips when he licked his wet finger with his tempting tongue. “God, kitten, you always taste so damn good.”

“P-Please.” I begged.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” Dylan smirked, nibbling my outer lips. “I know that I’m a drummer and I’m good with my hands, but damn kitten.”

“And I’m a saxophone player, I’m very good with my mouth.” I retorted, raking my fingers through his dark strands. “Which I’ll gladly use on you if you just give me what I want.”

“Well, you certainly have a way with words, babygirl.” He stated before finally doing what I wanted him to by swiping his tongue up my core, my vocal chords releasing the most animalistic moan the second the tip of his tongue touched my clitoris. “Damn, you sing the second I touch you.” He chuckled. “Kinda like playing the piano.”

“Then, play me.”

The last thing I saw was Dylan’s pupils dilate just before he dipped his head under the fabric of my skirt along with his hand and began his mind-boggling pleasure on my core. His tongue created fast and steady circles on my sensitive nub, immediate pleasure striking through my veins. However, my body buzzed intensely the moment he pushed a finger into my soaking heat and pumped it repeatedly. My eyes instantly shut tight and chose to only focus on the feelings he was creating inside of me.

I squirmed and my hips bucked involuntarily, my own fingers clutching onto his hair. He grunted at the harsh feeling and my lungs immediately gasped when the vibration of his voice rippled through my core and initiated the build up now invading me. I could feel my nipples hardening against the cheap fabric of my bra and I desperately wanted to pinch them in between my fingers — which is exactly what I did after I let go of him to rip apart my blouse along with my laced bra. Dylan couldn’t exactly see what I had just done, but he definitely put two and two together at the sound of the tearing fabric and didn’t hold back his moan. Letting what remained of my shirt and bra fall to the ground and playing with my nipples in my fingers, I felt as Dylan added another one of his in me. He increased the pressure and the pace, giving more power to my build up.

“F-Fuck, baby.” I moaned audaciously. “Just like that.”

He followed my request and continued moving his two fingers in my tight cunt rapidly, but his lips however wrapped around my clit. His tongue still licked and played with it as well, but now he had added his sinful mouth to the mix. My sensitive nub enjoyed the attention it was getting from Dylan, flashing pure thrill and bliss straight to my build up.

Carefully hearing out how responsive I was being, Dylan decided to do more when he knew I was ready for it. He scissored his two fingers inside of me and I screamed, my body already shaking with its arriving orgasm. Dylan’s addictive movements in my cunt only stopped right when he knew I was going to cum and curled the tips of his fingers against my walls instead, the perfect amount of pressure I needed to fall into my release.

I didn’t expect Dylan to stop as I came, but I certainly did expect him to when I finished. However, he did not halt his actions at all. In fact, Dylan only increased them. His hand removed itself from my core and returned its post on my thigh along with the other one. He pulled back from the wall and my own hands immediately flew to his hair for stability, but I didn’t make it in time. Although his grip on my thighs were incredibly strong enough and wouldn’t let me completely fall, I couldn’t help but squeal when the top half of my body dropped down, by back now resting on his legs.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get more intense, Dylan slipped his tongue into my cunt and I urgently wrapped my arms around the back of his knees. The new position enhanced everything he was doing to me, expanding my pleasure by one-hundred percent. I whimpered and mewled at Dylan’s invasive touch, considering how overstimulated I was. But, he didn’t stop his attempt at giving me more than one consecutive orgasm.

His tongue was deep in me, constantly brushing my g-spot, and he licked around my walls, definitely enjoying my taste by the way he moaned continuously along with me. My back arched and my legs shook again at the feeling of his tongue literally fucking me just as Dylan’s thumb applied unbelievable pressure on my incredibly swollen clitoris. Not only making me reach my orgasm and cum, but literally fucking gush. My immense arousal squirted out of my cunt, certainly soaking his entire face.

This time Dylan did stop, but only when he deemed ready. My core was throbbing intensely as he walked us over to his drumming bench and asked me to place my hands on them for him to pull my legs off of his shoulders and carefully settle them on the floor without the risk of hurting me nor letting me fall. Once he laid my legs on the ground, my butt involuntarily sitting down too, I watched with hooded eyes as he pulled his shirt off his body and used it wipe his face clean.

“Take your skirt off, kitten.” He commanded, unbuttoning his khakis and letting them drop to the floor.

“Yes, daddy.” I bit down on my lip, enjoying the view of him momentarily losing his shit at the nickname just as he stepped out of his pants pooling at his feet.

“Daddy, huh? Just when I thought you couldn’t get any sexier…” He smirked, taking taunting steps towards me. “Now, why don’t you kneel here in front of daddy?”

I didn’t say anything, I just changed my position to settle on my hands and knees and slowly crawled in his direction. The feeling of my skin scraping against the rug burned, but I chose to ignore it. I could see the huge bulge in his grey boxer-briefs create a wet stain with his increasing precum at how the sight turned him on beyond compare and it boosted me to sway my hips more, my confidence growing. Dylan’s hand moved down to his crotch and he slowly palmed himself over the fabric before becoming impatient and pulling down his boxers just enough to start touching himself. Immediate heat and lust rushed back to my core at the way he pumped his own dick, my mouth drooling at his actions.

Once I reached him, I placed my hands on his bare thighs to steady myself as I settled just on my knees, the rug digging into my skin. Our eyes were locked together, my mouth inching closer to his shaft. He didn’t stop masterbating even when I took his tip into my mouth and sucked profusely, his throat making its own strangled noises. My tongue licked the precum off of his slit and Dylan’s hips bucked, involuntarily​ pushing a little more of him inside my mouth. I swatted his hand away and he let both of his hands run through my hair as I took in as much of his cock as I could. Dylan gathered my hair together in a temporary ponytail and whilst my mouth bobbed his dick rapidly, my tongue would constantly graze against his prominent vein on the underside of his member.

“Shit, kitten.” Dylan moaned, bucking his hips faster. “Your talented lips feel so fucking good around my cock. Thank God you’re so invested in playing the saxophone.”

I moaned around his staff and he immediately growled at the intense vibration, his hand gripping tighter in my hair. Impatient with letting me be in control, Dylan pulled my hair back roughly, my head going along with it. Then he, suddenly, pushed my head right back to take him in again deeply — so deeply that his swollen tip lodged in the back of my throat. Dylan created this new pace where he would pull my hair to guide his dick in and out along with his thrusts. The stinging pain on my scalp from his harsh pulling did not overpower the lust inside of me and I willingly allowed Dylan to use my mouth as a damn fucktoy.

“Fuck me, babygirl.” He grunted before unexpectedly pulling me back and not letting me take him in my mouth anymore.

Suddenly, Dylan tore my grip away from his thighs and let my hair go. He took a step back, my palms immediately landing flat out on the floor to keep from falling. The strands of my hair swayed to the front of my face as he stepped out of his boxers and walked behind me. I heard him fall to his own knees and, without any warning, a loud sound of Dylan’s palm slapping against my skin echoed in the room along with the sound of my scream at the stinging pain of just getting spanked.

“God, I fucking love your ass.” Dylan confessed, sinking his teeth into my cheeks and letting go right after another scream escaped my lips.

“Jesus Christ, Dylan.” I grunted, already out of breath. “Just stop teasing and shove your dick inside of me already.”

“Did you just call me Dylan?” He tisked and I could picture him shaking his head. “You know that’s not what I want, babygirl. Which means I won’t give you want you want.”

“N-No, I’m sorry!” I whined. “Daddy, please.”

Dylan surprised me when he pushed just his tip inside of me, my core pulsing around him. However, he stopped teasingly and it drove me absolutely crazy. I tried bucking my hips back, but Dylan just grabbed my waist roughly and halted my attempts.

“Come on, daddy.” I whimpered at the feeling of his dick throbbing. “Just fuck me.”

“Like this?” Dylan asked, slowly pushing in until he was buried to the hilt before pulling back out at the same agonizing pace. He did this a few times and my body begged for more, not able to withstand the slow rate.

“Faster.” I begged impatiently. “You know how I like it rough.”

Dylan moaned at my commands, but continued his vehement torture anyway and I wasn’t having anymore of it. Bringing my hands back, I ripped Dylan’s off my waist and he almost lost his balance at my sudden movement. Pulling his dick out of me, I pushed him to lie down on the rug and threw my legs over his hips to straddle him. Both of my knees settled on the rug and Dylan’s eyes widened at me before they narrowed with a growing smirk.

“Damn-” He began to speak, but my finger flew to his lips and stopped him from continuing his sentence. His eyebrows quirked in curiosity and I simply gave him the most smug grin I could put together.

“I’m in charge now.”

Dylan’s dick twitched in between my thighs at my new confidence and his hands flew to my hips, allowing me to do whatever I damn pleased. I grabbed his shaft before positioning it at my entrance and sitting down on him until I felt his balls on my ass. His head instantly fell back to the ground, his eyes shutting tight. Thanks to how fucking wet I was from just having two orgasms (and counting), it wasn’t hard to glide him in and out of me. Both of our throats erupting into uncontrollable moans and neither one of us had the intention to stop.

My hands were splattered out on his chest, my nails raking down his skin and digging into it as his own fingers gripped my hips tightly to help guide me. I bounced up and down on his cock, the wet sound of skin meeting every time my cheeks came into contact with his balls. Dylan growled lowly whenever my nails created stinging shapes in his flesh. My build up returned stronger than ever, already licking at my veins. Dylan could sense how close I was from how I tightened around his shaft and his eyes opened, a sense of mischief pooling in them.

One of his hands made its way to our repeatedly connecting bodies and everything inside of me jerked the moment his fingers applied rough pleasure on my clit. A flash of heat spread through my body as I screamed, not able to hide how much I loved his addictive advances. However, it was when Dylan sat up and not only changed the angle but pushed me back a little so he could attach his mouth onto my breast that the build up won. My arms wrapped around his neck to keep some sort of balance as my body violently shook with its intense orgasm. I continued to bounce on his dick and Dylan grunted loudly when I clenched around it. His teeth bit my nipple harshly and I screamed, all of my senses dancing on the surface of my skin.

Even as my body fell limp and stopped moving, Dylan didn’t. His hand on my hips wrapped around my waist and elevated my body slightly before thrusting up into me. At this point, I couldn’t even control the overwhelming amount of screams falling from my lips along with his name.

“That’s right, kitten.” He managed to say through moans. “Scream my name and forget every other name that exists. I’m the only one that can fuck you like this.”

I felt that same flash of heat again, followed by another and another as he continued to thrust up into my g-spot, his cock rubbing so fucking deliciously against my tight walls that it made me want to cry. No crashing waves and no build up, this time a violent pleasure tore through me. A whiplash of ecstasy snapping at my clit and spreading everywhere. Dense streams of cum slithered down my legs and I noticed as it soaked him, dripping down his cock, covering his balls and pooling over his thighs.

His fingers changed its pace on my overly sensitive nub and I crashed again, falling deep into the abyss of euphoria. Each climax was unique and when the final one was drawn out of me, I actually cried — like literally. My tears rolled down my flushed cheeks. My lungs hurt at the lack of air. My throat was dry from screaming too much. My lips were raw from the insane amount of kissing and biting down on them. And every joint in my body ached.

When he noticed I couldn’t handle anymore, Dylan pulled himself out and laid me down on the floor. I was completely out of breath and unable to move my body, but I still watched with hooded eyes as he crawled over me. Each of his knees settling beside my shoulders, his hands moving down to my head and grabbing my hair.

“Do you wanna taste daddy’s cum, kitten?” He teased and I immediately nodded. “I’m gonna need you to say it.”

“Yes, daddy.” I spoke up, my hands holding onto the back of his knees. “Fuck my mouth.”

That’s all the incentive he needed to shove his dick into my mouth and I gladly welcomed it back. Dylan used his hand on my head in synch with his thrusts to control how deep he wants to go. Because he was already so close to his edge from constantly feeling my cunt tighten around him, Dylan was already falling off of it in a matter of seconds. It only took a few thrusts and my mouth hollowing out as my tongue constantly licked his sensitive tip. Dylan’s hot release immediately shot out of his slit and landed on my palate, the delicious salty taste of his cum making me moan.

“God, no one can give a blowjob like you, babygirl.” Dylan whispered huskily, laying back down on the floor beside me.

The sexual tension in the air eased down and was replaced with pure bliss, both of our chests rising and falling with heavy breaths. All of a sudden, Dylan turned around and nudged his face amongst my shoulders. Goosebumps making its ways on my skin at the feeling of his hot breath against my neck as he wrapped a lazy arm around my waist.

“What'cha doing there, Dyl?” I asked curiously.

“Breathing in your neck because you always smell so good.” He shrugged.

“Well, I’m just gonna pretend that’s not a weird thing to say.” I chuckled and he laughed with me.

“Sorry.” He smiled, placing a chaste kiss on my skin. “Would you rather I whisper things into your ear so you remember them when you’re not with me?”

“Hmm, that would be nice.” I smiled before it turned into a grin. “But, I’d rather go eat that take out.”

SKAM S04E10 Clip 3 - Jonas

JONAS: Once, he forgot to bring his bike so I had to..

EMMA: You had to..?

JONAS: I had to take..

EMMA: You had to take his bike?

JONAS: But I’ll text you.

EMMA: Yeah. We will.

JONAS: Yeah.

EMMA: Where are you going?

JONAS: To the A-building.

EMMA: Okay.

JONAS: And you?

EMMA: To the B-building.

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I Got You On My Mind [Part 2]

Jungkook Soulmate AU

Part One | Part Two | Next Part

Genre: Angst (ft. Fuckboy!Jungkook)

Summary: Ever since your fateful first encounter with Jungkook, it’s been radio silence in your mind. You’re trying your best to move on. But no matter how hard you try to forget him, life finds away to throw the two of you back together.

Word count: 2.2k

Originally posted by jungxook

A few weeks later, and any tension between you and Jieun was gone. Currently, she sat in front of her vanity, applying makeup in preparation for the music department’s showcase. Behind her, you stood, curling iron in hand, ready to help.

Jieun glanced back to look at you. “You can go ahead,” she said, nodding towards the tool in your hand. “I’ll just do my makeup at the same time–it’s fine.”

You nodded and got started, making quick work of Jieun’s thick, black hair. Soon, her hair fell in glistening loose waves.

“You look good,” you smiled, kneeling down to unplug the curler from her bedroom wall. “We should get going soon. You know, it would probably be faster if you got ready backstage.”

“Like hell,” Jieun snorted, standing up and smoothing out her small, black dress. “It’s a fight for mirrors. I made the mistake of going backstage in freshman year…never again.”

You laughed as you followed Jieun out of the room. As you passed through your small apartment, you grabbed your bomber jacket from where you had flung it over the couch earlier.

“That’s what you’re wearing?” Jieun asked, raising an eyebrow critically as she scanned you from head to toe. Self consciously, you squirmed under her gaze. You were wearing a pair of jeans, a graphic tee, and a bomber–it was acceptable! “Seriously?”

“What?” you demanded, zipping your jacket up. “This fine. I’m keeping it casual. I’m not the one performing, so it doesn’t matter.”

Jieun just rolled her eyes. She threw on a jacket, too, and together you exited the apartment.

Outside, the air was beginning to cool. The sun had already begun to set, the days becoming shorter and shorter as winter approached. Jieun shivered slightly, the cold nipping at her bare legs.

“See?” you taunted, a smile pulling at your lips. “Wearing pants was a good idea.”

“Oh, shut up!” Jieun exclaimed, elbowing you sharply. There was a short stretch of silence, and then Jieun spoke again. This time, her tone was serious. “Y/N, w-we really need to talk. About…you know. What are you going to do? He’s your soulmate, for god’s sake!”

“What can I do?” you asked resignedly. “He made himself clear.”

“But…you’re meant to be together,” Jieun argued quietly, her eyes full of concern as she glanced at you.

“I can’t change how he feels,” you sighed, shoving your hands into your pockets. Even thinking about Jungkook made your heart ache. “Look, I don’t want to talk about this. Tonight isn’t about me or Jungkook, okay? It’s your night.”

“I know,” Jieun smiled sadly. “I’m just worried about you. You’re my best friend, you know?”


Later, you find yourself sitting in the cushioned seats of your school’s theatre. All the seats around you were occupied–either by friends or family of the performers. A few of the junior students had performed already, but you didn’t pay much attention. After all, you were only there for Jieun.

You glanced at the program in your hands, flipping through it to pass time. As you read through the pages, you spotted Jieun’s name. The program said she’d be singing two songs, both of them ballads you had heard her sing in the shower for weeks.

The person performing after her was a boy named Kihyun, whom you had met at a few parties. You continued scanning the page, looking for names you recognized. Eventually, your gaze gravitated back to Jieun’s name. As your eyes shifted up the page, your heart stopped.

Jeon Jungkook.

Your soulmate’s name was printed neatly above Jieun’s, followed by the two songs he would be singing. Your heart began to race, remembering the last time you had heard Jungkook sing.

Before everything fell apart.

In your nervousness, you had begun tapping your leg rapidly. The woman beside you glared at you pointedly, and you forced yourself to sit still. Suddenly, the people around you began to applaud, and your attention snapped to the stage in front of you.

The boy currently on stage was removing his acoustic guitar from his lap. He stood and bowed, some people in the crowd whistling and hollering. Then, the boy turned and exited the stage, the lights dimming as the next act entered.

In the darkness of the auditorium and in the sudden silence of the audience, you heard the Jungkook’s voice for the first time in weeks. It was quiet, but you heard it nonetheless.

“Fuck,” Jungkook hissed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You guessed he was nervous. You couldn’t help the amused smile that appeared, but you resisted the urge to reply to his thoughts. Keeping your mind as blank as possible, you weren’t surprised at the sight in front of you when the lights flickered back on.

At the front of the stage, Jungkook stood, dressed in a simple white shirt and black pants. His bangs were pushed to the side, and the harsh lighting highlighted Jungkook’s sharp features. He looked more handsome now than ever.

You gulped–and then the music started.

Soon, Jungkook’s sweet voice was flowing throughout the theatre. As he sang, he kept his eyes shut and his eyebrows furrowed. He was singing a cover of Lost Stars, which fit his voice perfectly. As the song progressed, Jungkook switched to a falsetto, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to be carried away by Jungkook’s beautiful voice. His words surrounded you like an embrace, and you wished those loving lyrics were for you.

Needless to say, you couldn’t be blamed for being unable to focus on the rest of the performances following Jungkook’s.


Jieun clung to your arm, her breath already reeking of alcohol. Around you, a swelling mass of people moved, and deafening electronic music thudded in the background.

“Come on, Y/N,” Jieun slurred, giggling at herself. “Just have a drink with me! It won’t kill you.”

“I didn’t plan on coming to your afterparty,” you frowned, trying to discreetly lead your friend towards the front door. She noticed and stomped her foot.

“You’re so mean!” Jieun whined. “You owe me. You didn’t even pay attention to my performance! I could tell y-you were still thinking about Jungkook!”

“Shh!” you hissed, covering her mouth with your hand. “Fine! I’ll drink. Shit, Jieun. Don’t…talk about that here, okay?”

“‘Kay!” Jieun chirped triumphantly, dragging you to the kitchen with surprising strength.

Inside the kitchen, there was a crowd of very drunk people chanting, “Shots! Shots! Shots!”

Somehow, Jieun was able to produce a shot glass filled with tequila. Sighing, you grabbed it and threw it back. A few shots later, you were as sloppy as everyone else. Your friend had disappeared, leaving you with your new friends in the kitchen.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a familiar figure appear in the entryway of the room. It was Jungkook.

“I’ll be back,” you mumbled, turning to follow your soulmate with newfound courage, no doubt from all the tequila you had just consumed.

The crowd in the living room had dispersed a little bit, allowing you to spot Jungkook quite easily. He leaning against the back of the couch surrounded by a group of his friends, an arm slung over the shoulders of another girl. He held a can of beer in his other hand.

Impulsively, you stormed towards to your soulmate, feeling the frustration and hurt you had buried so well resurface. It also irked you to see Jungkook cozying up with another girl when he knew. You staggered up to Jungkook’s group, pushing past two guys to stand directly in front of your soulmate.

“What the fuck?” one guy spat, grabbing you roughly by the shoulder. You paid him no mind, shaking him off.

“Jeon Jungkook!” you yelled, your words slurring together, as you crossed your arms. “We needta talk.

Suddenly, rough hands spun you around. The guy you had pushed earlier was glaring down at you, positively seething.

“Look at me when talk to you, bitch,” the guy seethed, and you winced as his grip on your arm tightened. Then, he was staggering backwards as if he had been pushed. And it was because he had been. Jungkook stood tall beside you, his expression stony.

“Don’t touch her,” he warned quietly, his voice threatening. Then he grabbed your hand, pulling you away from his friends and out of the living room. Behind you, Jungkook’s friends were openmouthed in surprise.

Jungkook guided to to a secluded hallway, dropping your hand immediately after he stopped walking. He turned to look at you, his expression icy.

“I thought I told you to stay away from me,” he said, his eyes guarded. Jungkook’s lips were set in a straight line, and you thought they looked much better when he was singing earlier that night.

“You did, but you were also being an asshole,” you replied, feeling a little more sober than a few moments ago. Perhaps it was the gravity of the situation. Bravely, you looked into Jungkook’s uncaring eyes. “It’s great that you feel that way. I get it, okay? But it’s not all about you, and we need to talk about this.”

“There’s nothing left to say!” Jungkook exclaimed, frustration seeping into his voice. “I’ve already explained myself to you.”

“No, you haven’t,” you snapped. “You told me to forget about what had happened. But why? You’ve explained absolutely nothing. I don’t know how you feel, let alone how I feel!”

“You want to know how I feel?” Jungkook laughed coldly. “Like I said, there’s not much to say. I don’t feel anything.”

“That’s bullshit!” you cried, feeling angry tears pool in your eyes. You blinked them away furiously. “We’ve been talking for years, Jungkook. You’re not like this…I know you’re not.”

“You know nothing,” Jungkook hissed, backing you up against the wall. He slammed his hands against the plaster, caging you in with his arms. Still, you stared at him, defiant. “Sure, it was fun to play pretend. But that wasn’t me, it won’t ever be me. I’m not going to lie and say that I’ll change for you, because I never will.”

“I’m not asking you to change,” you replied. “You’re making all these assumptions–”

“You should be asking,” Jungkook interrupted, his voice quiet. His arms dropped from around you and he stepped back. His words rang with finality. “If you knew who I really am, you’d ask.”

“Jungkook!” someone called shrilly from around the corner. The girl from before–the one who Jungkook had been sitting with–appeared, her heels clicking loudly against the hardwood floors as she approached. “I was looking for you.”

“Well, you found me,” Jungkook smirked, all traces of your conversation cast away in the blink of an eye. He slipped his arm around the girl’s waist and leaned down to whisper something in her ear.

You bit your lip, your heart stinging painfully.

“What are you looking at?” the girl spat when she saw you still standing there awkwardly.

Jungkook paid you and the girl’s protests no mind. He caught the girl’s lips with his, his tongue slipping obscenely into her mouth. The girl moaned and pressed further against Jungkook. His hands wandered deviously, one hand slipping underneath the girl’s shirt.

Your eyes blurred with tears, and you hurried away before Jungkook and the girl had the satisfaction of seeing you cry. Blindly, you stumbled towards the front door of the fraternity house–at least that was where you thought you were.

In the distance, you thought you heard someone calling your name. Still, you didn’t stop. You were eager to escape this crowded building. The heat and the constant noise were suffocating you. Finally, you reached the door, your hands searching for the knob.

Eventually, you located it. You turned the doorknob with haste, inhaling deeply as you stepped into the crisp, autumn air. You closed the door behind you and continued on aimlessly, your eyes unfocused with unshed tears.

Your footsteps echoed against the pavement, and you kept your eyes cast skyward as you tried not to cry. You weren’t sure where you were going or how long you had been walking. You just kept going, because it was easier than thinking. 

Hurt was still radiating through you, and you wondered why you were still pretending to be fine. You glanced at the ground and let a few tears fall, your vision clearing. 

But by then, it was already too late. You looked up just in time to see the bright headlights of an incoming car.

And then, everything went dark.

The last thing you heard was Jungkook’s voice, ringing loudly in your mind.

“Y/N? What’s going on? Talk to me–are you alright? Fuck! Y/N!”

- Girl in Luv

Okay…another cliffhanger. I’m sorryyyyyyyy! Also I just wanted to say this: I was absolutely shocked by the support I received from the first part of this series. I just wanted to thank everyone who took the time to respond! So, I hope you all enjoyed this second instalment. Stay tuned for part three, and tell me what you think so far! Thanks again, guys 💛

The Towel Story

Originally posted by awwsehun

Member: Exo Sehun

Type: Fluff/Smut

“The only way I will ever sit in his car is if I’m using it to run him over,” you snapped, pushing Kyungsoo’s hand off your shoulder and picking up your suitcase, wincing at the weight before starting down the stairs. Maybe you had over packed, but you didn’t want to risk running out of clothes, especially in a place so secluded.

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SpideyVlogs: Just a Queens kid trying to stand up for the little guy and get his homework in on time.


Youtube edit made by @tomhollend on Instagram!

“BATMAN IS NEVER JEALOUS” - Bruce Wayne x Reader

#5. “Who the fuck is this guy!? “My brother….” “Sure! Sure he is!”

Here we go for jealous Bruce Wayne, because that’s what this prompt inspired me to write. Boom, hope you’ll like it I’m a bit unsure about this one, feedbacks are welcome : 

(My masterlist blog here : https://ella-ravenwood-archives.tumblr.com)

_______________________________________________

Damian was a bit confused. Usually, on patrol, they would like…do things. Catch criminals. Stop bank robberies. Save widows and orphans.

Yes, Damian was utterly confused as to why tonight, his father and him were following…his mom. Not Talia. You. He never considered Talia his mother, he came to that realization the first time you made him hot cocoa and cookies after he had a rough day, and just…talked to him. Asked him how he was feeling. Just genuinely cared for him, something Talia Al’Ghul never did. 

She was his mother, but you were his mommy. 

And so, tonight, as he was jumping from a building to another, following you through the dark street of Gotham, he wasn’t really sure what was going on. 

Oh my God…Were you a criminal ? Was he going to loose you because his father was going to put you behind bars ? But he loves you ! How could he ? 

If it came to that, Damian decided that he would fight his dad, giving you enough time to escape. Yes. He would save you. There was no way he was letting his mommy go in prison, no matter what she did…

His father was talking to Dick about something happening in North Gotham. He then proceeded to call Tim to ask him to go to the docks join Jason because some big drug deal was going on…And once again, Damian wondered why they were tracking you instead of taking care of the real issues. 

He looked down in the street, you were at a small cafe, ordering a huge cup of coffee, that he knew was probably the blackest beverage ever. You liked it that way. But that’s it. You were getting coffee. Sure it was 10:30 pm but like, you couldn’t always just stay at the Manor right ? You’d be bored ! 

Besides, you were a writer, you often came to get coffee at night with your notebook, you always said it brought you lots of inspiration (he loved your stories, and was your number one beta reader). 

It wasn’t an unusual thing for you to be out, getting coffee (even if Gotham was dangerous at night, you knew how to defend yourself thanks to your Husband’s training, and besides, one of your sons kinda always had an eye on you anyway…just to be sure), so again, why were they here ? Why weren’t they on the docks, with Tim and Jason, to fight some real criminals ? 

Bruce refused to let Damian patrol alone so far, which is why he was with him, but usually, he’d explain what was going on you know ? Not able to contain himself anymore, Damian asked : 

-Father…why are we spying on mom ? 

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