it walks erect!

onecornflower  asked:

About the anon's ask on whether non-theropod bipedal dinosaurs could pronate their hands: I thought theropods were unable to pronate because of the semilunate carpal and non-theropod dinosaurs don't have it? So they probably could pronate? At least that's what the palaeontologist of our uni/the city's museum told me when I asked her that same question.

Nope! Only (some?) maniraptors have semilunate carpals; the rest don’t. Being unable to pronate is actually the ancestral condition, dating may back to the days of early tetrapods. Look at this agama:

Now imagine it bringing its arms together like a dinosaur. It actually doesn’t have pronated hands! And why would it need to? If you’re walking with sprawled legs, you’ve got no reason to have hands that do that - they’d be facing straight out, which doesn’t do much good.

The problem arose when early archosaurs began walking with erect postures. The earliest dinosaurs were all bipedal omnivores, so their hands could be used to catch prey, grab branches, etc.. The trade-off, though, was that they could no longer walk quadrupedally. 

(Eoraptor byScott Hartman @skeletaldrawing)

As evolution progressed certain groups evolved more and more towards herbivory and quadrupedality. In the case of sauropods their bigger guts necessitated them moving onto all fours; ornithischians were able to shift their weight backwards by flipping a bone in the pelvis, but various groups, because of armour or giant heads, eventually did have to move onto all fours as well.

(Giraffititan foot [and skull])

In the case of sauropods and eurypods (Stegosaurs+Ankylosaurs!), this was accomplished by rotating the hand to face downward. Note that this doesn’t mean they could turn their hands like we do - their hands were more or less locked in this position.

(Hadrosaur left manus and pes prints overlaid)

Styracosternans and ceratopsians did something similar, but never fully rotated the manus. From bones and footprints we know that their hands were turned at more of a 45-degree angle. Again, they would’ve been more or less locked in this position. 

(Human radius)

The reason we can rotate our hands is because of part of our forearm. Rotate your wrist once. You can’t actually do it – look again, and you’ll see that you’re not actually turning your hand, but the front half of your forearm. This is possible because you have two bones in your forearm and, crucially, they can rotate past each other. All of this is due to a clever little trick of evolution - the radial “neck” seen above, which lets it spin around at the elbow.

(Human forearm - elbow is at the top, and is at the bottom)

This part, in 3D, is actually pretty much a dead cylinder, so it functions as a joint. Most tetrapods don’t really have this feature, and so cannot turn their hands like we can!


The group called dinosaurs includes all the animals that evolved from the very first dinosaur, the common ancestor. Because the fossil record is incomplete, we have not found fossils of this common ancestor; however, based on the characteristics we see in all dinosaurs, we can determine new and unique characteristics it possessed.

A key evolutionary innovation of dinosaurs is that they walk with a fully erect posture, holding their hind legs vertically under their hips. The top of the thighbone (or femur) has a knob or head that sticks out to the side of the rest of the bone and fits into the hip socket (or acetabulum) in the pelvis. The hip socket has a hole in the center, as well as a rim of bone along the upper margin, which helps support the weight of the body on the leg. Since these features are present in all known dinosaurs, we deduce that they first evolved in the common ancestor.

In popular culture, many other kinds of animals, which don’t have this fully developed hip and leg structure, are often incorrectly called dinosaurs. Some examples include Mesozoic marine reptiles, such as plesiosaurs, mosasaurs and ichthyosaurs, as well as a group of Mesozoic flying reptiles called pterosaurs.

This video is part of a series, “Dinosaurs Explained,” produced by the American Museum of Natural History. In the series, Museum paleontologists answer the most frequently asked questions about dinosaurs.


in which someone just needs some attention

Word Count: 1,500

Rating: R (i’m sorry mom)

You understood. You really did. Youtube was his job, and that meant that he had to spend a lot of time creating product, from videos to merchandise to books. However, Joe was very much so an all-or-nothing person. If he had a week full of work, you were lucky to steal a kiss and 5 minutes of alone time. On the other end of the spectrum, if you were spending a week together he would schedule tweets and spend the entire week fully unplugged. So all was well that ended well.

Most of the time.

Tonight, not so much. You had wanted nothing more than to have a relaxing day in cuddling with your boyfriend, which always ended up as something more by the end of the day. Hell, you were past wanting it. You needed it. And you tried to be understanding like usual while he edited his main channel video. And then the vlog from the past day. And then when he had a 2-hour skype meeting with Caspar about their production company. It didn’t help that he spent the whole day without a top on, and his abs were on full display. You caught yourself staring all day, watching the muscles ripple under his skin. You were patient, no matter how painful it was. But watching him enter the closet at 10:30 to grab his gaming hat practically made you groan.

“You’re filming a gaming video tonight?” You pouted from your spot on the bed.

“Yeah, I’ve gotta get another episode of Outlast II up, it’s been a few days,” he explained, picking out a Sugg Life shirt to throw on for the video.

“You can’t film tomorrow? I’ve hardly seen you today.”

“I know baby, I’m sorry. I just have to film this really quick and then I’ll be back. I’ll make it a short video, 40 minutes tops. I’ll even wait to upload it until tomorrow,” he said, arranging his hat over his hair.

“Alright, that’s fine I guess, as long as you promise to come right to bed when you’re done.”

“Promise,” he smiled, leaning down to give you a kiss before headed to his office.  

Once he was out of view, you slipped out of your jeans and shirt, revealing your matching bra and panties – some of Joe’s favorites on you. Let’s just say you’d woken up with a plan for how the day was going to end up. You strolled out into the kitchen, making sure he would get a view of you from the office.

“Do you want a glass of water before you start?” You called, watching him carefully.

“Yes please!” He responded, not looking away from his screen. You poured him a glass before grabbing a post-it note off the counter and scribbling a quick note.

Let’s see how long you can outlast. Gotta film a whole episode tonight, right? Finish before you come to bed Xx

You laughed slightly at your pun, but you knew it would get the message across.

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Loki/Reader- My King

Originally posted by loptrlaufey

Prompt: Loki x Reader

A/N: I made this into smut

Being the princess of Asgard was no simple feat. You had your daily duties and also had many appearances with your trickster husband Loki. You often hung out with his brother as well because let’s admit it Thor is less uptight about everything than Loki.

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She’s the Man (Part 2)

Summary: Upon finding out that your twin teenage brother is leaving the country, you decide on taking up the role of him, in hopes of convincing the students at his new school that you’re the real Bruce Y/L/N. [MatureTeenage!Bucky AU] 

Word Count: 1,565.

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy! Always happy to your feedback

Part 1

Originally posted by dailyevanstan

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Unfinished business


Genre: action, fluff, angst, strong language, +18 content, gang material 

Read to find out who the reader will end up with. There will be several chapters of this so I hope you’re ready to die and anticipate many things. <3 love youuuu (don’t hate me)

Word count: 1785 

{ next }

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anonymous asked:

Jamilton- Candy

“Jefferson, you…” Alex gulped, eyeing the red lollipop Thomas was twirling between his fingers. “Can you… can you seriously not do that?”

“Not do what?” Thomas asked, swirling his tongue around the lollipop. Alex couldn’t tell if he was being a shit about it, or if he legitimately didn’t realize. Most likely the former. 

That, with the…” Alexander glared, crossing his arms. Thomas sucked the entire thing in his mouth, god help Alex, and frowned right back at the shorter of the two.

“What?! It’s not like I’ve got my dick out, Alexander-”

“You may as well!” Alex retorted heatedly, “Look at you, you’re obscene.”

Thomas pulled the candy out from between his lips with a vulgar pop that sent Alex into a mild meltdown/panic. “See here, Alex-”

“I’ve seen enough,” Alex squeaked, and quickly turned and began to walk away, hoping his erection wasn’t noticeable. 

“What the fuck?!” Thomas sputtered, “Come back here, you little prude-!”

“Jefferson, leave me al-”

“Stop being so damn-”

“Get off-”

“Come h- ummfffff.

Alex had Thomas pinned against a wall, lips pressed firmly against his rival’s. He tasted like cherry, the sugary candy still fresh on his lips and tongue. When the shorter man finally pulled away, Thomas’ head was spinning. 

“My my, Hamilton… you sure know how to make a man weak in the knees,” he smirked, flicking his finished lollipop stick out as if what just happened was nothing. Alex balled his fists, opening his mouth to let fly in a continuation of his usual anger, but Thomas just closed it again by leaning down and placing a softer, sweeter kiss on the immigrant’s mouth. 

“You may be a little bitch, but you taste better than any candy, any day,” the  Virginian informed him earnestly, and Alex just about blushed himself into the ground as Thomas took his hand. 

【1】Paddle Hard. Play Harder. - Timothy and Fernando (Part 1/3)

Yet another week has passed in school. On a Friday afternoon, the scorching hit sun blazed the track in school. Timothy took a short break from interval training, walking to the vending machine beside the gym. Timothy was a average looking boy in his raging hormone years, an athlete with that bit of flair in running. Trust me, the objective of Timothy visiting the vending machine wasn’t for the drink, but more about who’s inside the gym.

Timothy slotted the coins in the machine, coin by coin. His eyes wasn’t on the slot. His eyes were preying on those dragonboat hunks training in the gym. “Omg, he’s right there!” Timothy’s heart raced. It was Fernando, the school dragonboat team’s captain. From an Eurasian-Chinese descent, Fernando had the best features anyone could ever had. Coupled with a sunny boy personality and a dragon-boater body, it was a perfect package.

Fernando was lifting weights, concentrating intently on the mirror at his posture. Timothy looked in awe, almost salivating. He’s almost forgetting his drink. Fernando put the weights back onto the rack and looked out. Timothy reacted and scooted away with his drink, forgetting his change.

Timothy hid at the side of the vending machine, gulping on the ice cold drink. The glass door opened. It was Fernando. He stepped out and did some stretching before heading for a run around the track. As Fernando headed for the track, he passed by the vending machine which he spotted Timothy. Timothy smiled awkwardly and nodded to him, acknowledging Fernando. Fernando smiled back with his killer smile, Timothy could feel something in him melting.

Rounds after rounds, Timothy lost count how many rounds Fernando ran. Finally he stopped, going over to the water cooler for a drink. He sat at the bench beside the watercooler, taking shelter from the merciless heat. “Today is really hot. I think you guys have an early day and train during your weekends in your free time.” Timothy’s coach said and dismissed the track and field members. Timothy waved good bye to his friends and coach. He wanted to stay longer to give his eyes a good treat.

It was around 5pm already. Most of the sports CCAs would have wrapped up training less the Dragonboaters. They’ll usually train until 6pm. Recovering from the bench, Fernando stood up and took off his singlet to dry his sweat, as Timothy stared at the sculpted back of Fernando. Those gym sessions and paddling didn’t go to waste for Fernando. Timothy grabbed his belongings and followed Fernando discreetly.

Beside the gym, not far away, Fernando was doing pull ups on the pull up bar. Under the setting sunset, Fernando’s sweat on his body glistened, like a piece of waxed meat. Timothy was starting to get hard in his tights, which he adjusted uncomfortably. Suddenly, the gym doors opened, and the Dragonboaters streamed out. Timothy sat down quickly, acting like he was doing some gluteus stretch, but in fact, trying to hide his raging hardon.

“Yo Fern! We’re going off! You not coming with us?” One of his friends shouted across to him. “Nah I’m good! You guys enjoy yourselves!” Fernando replied, getting into push up position, doing push ups like as if they were nothing. Timothy got up and used his Red Jansport backpack to hide his erection while walking briskly to the locker area. Timothy was packing his books into his bag as Fernando walked passed his locker area. Timothy took a glance and looked away. “He’s so sweaty now, he should be showering eh?” Timothy thought.

(to be continued)
Part 2

The grave was set in the small cemetery reserved for the convent, under the buttresses of the nearby cathedral.

Even though the air from the Seine was damp and cold, and the day cloudy, the walled cemetery held a soft light, reflected from the blocks of pale limestone that sheltered the small plot from wind. In the winter, there were no shrubs or flowers growing, but leafless aspens and larches spread a delicate tracery against the sky, and a deep green moss cradled the stones, thriving despite the cold. 

It was a small stone, made of a soft white marble. A pair of cherub’s wings spread out across the top, sheltering the single word that was the stone’s only other decoration. “Faith,” it read. 

I stood looking down at it until my vision blurred. I had brought a flower; a pink tulip—not the easiest thing to find in Paris in December, but Jared kept a conservatory. I knelt down and laid it on the stone, stroking the soft curve of the petal with a finger, as though it were a baby’s cheek. 

“I thought I wouldn’t cry,” I said a little later. 

I felt the weight of Mother Hildegarde’s hand on my head. 

Le Bon Dieu orders things as He thinks best,” she said softly. “But He seldom tells us why.” 

I took a deep breath and wiped my cheeks with a corner of my cloak. “It was a long time ago, though.” I rose slowly to my feet and turned to find Mother Hildegarde watching me with an expression of deep sympathy and interest. 

“I have noticed,” she said slowly, “that time does not really exist for mothers, with regard to their children. It does not matter greatly how old the child is—in the blink of an eye, the mother can see the child again as it was when it was born, when it learned to walk, as it was at any age—at any time, even when the child is fully grown and a parent itself.” 

“Especially when they’re asleep,” I said, looking down again at the little white stone. “You can always see the baby then.” 

“Ah.” Mother nodded, satisfied. “I thought you had had more children; you have the look, somehow.” 

“One more.” I glanced at her. “And how do you know so much about mothers and children?” 

The small black eyes shone shrewdly under heavy brow ridges whose sparse hairs had gone quite white. 

“The old require very little sleep,” she said, with a deprecatory shrug. “I walk the wards at night, sometimes. The patients talk to me.” 

She had shrunk somewhat with advancing age, and the wide shoulders were slightly bowed, thin as a wire hanger beneath the black serge of her habit. Even so, she was still taller than I, and towered over most of the nuns, more scarecrow-like, but imposing as ever. She carried a walking stick but strode erect, firm of tread and with the same piercing eye, using the stick more frequently to prod idlers or direct underlings than to lean on. 

I blew my nose and we turned back along the path to the convent. As we walked slowly back, I noticed other small stones set here and there among the larger ones. 

“Are those all children?” I asked, a little surprised. 

“The children of the nuns,” she said matter-of-factly. I gaped at her in astonishment, and she shrugged, elegant and wry as always. 

“It happens,” she said. She walked a few steps farther, then added, “Not often, of course.” She gestured with her stick around the confines of the cemetery. 

“This place is reserved for the sisters, a few benefactors of the Hôpital—and those they love.”

- Voyager

harry’s nipples get hard at the most nonsensical times. at a funeral? erect titties. getting into a heated debate with an old lady about the benefits of a slow cooker? erect titties. watching a home renovation show? erect titties. walking through the sahara desert for hours on end, water supply dwindling? hard titties.

That other really terrible time in the snow...

@moonstarturtle likes cracking me up at two in the morning, and it led to some really terrible dialogue.

So that is my excuse if anyone wants to make disapproving noises at Kalluzeb, get Hera Promoted 2K17, some unimpressed Rau, Zeb repeatedly commenting on the absurdity that is the human body, and Kallus being miserable in the snow again.

None of this has any reason to exist. Least of all because I live in the subtropics.

(Pssst: Ask Moon about fluffy winter Lasat.)


General Syndulla is sharper than most, Rau thinks. She doesn’t leave her back to the corridor even from the pilot’s chair, turning to him, mostly covered.

She is, he thinks, a deceptively formidable warrior for having come from a slight and decorative-looking species.

“Where is the away team?” He asks.

“Still out. It’s up in the air on when they’re coming back with this ice storm playing hell with the sensors,” she replies, studying him in between glances at her console.

“Then what would you have me do?”

Her mouth quirks up at the corner. It isn’t an ungenerous mouth, General Syndulla’s. It’s surprisingly good humored for someone of her species given when he knows of their history.

“That depends on how badly you want to help.”

“I made my offer,” Rau replies.

The green woman considers him.

“Chop and I can keep the engines warm for liftoff. We won’t get much warning if something in orbit spots our heat signature, though. How good is your armor at keeping out the cold?”

“Adaptable,” Rau replies.

Hera’s smile tics a little wider.

“I sent Spectre Four and Spectre Seven out there to work on the worst of the ice buildup. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind an extra set of hands. If either of them looks too rough, send them back in. That sound fair to you?”

Rau nods, donning his helmet.

“Oh, and Rau?”

He turns.

Hera’s tilted in her seat.

“We appreciate this…everything.”

Rau has nothing in particular to say to that and so gives another curt nod, arming his suit’s temperature seals at the fingers and joints before opening the hatch to the roar and the snow.

He thinks he hears Chopper blatting something abusive behind him, likely about closing the hatch behind him. He does.

It doesn’t take long to find the other two, keying in to their comm frequency against the roar of the storm.

Zeb is a huge shape, striped against the snow.

Kallus is smaller. The Ex-Agent looks like he’s wrapped himself in a mess of belted blankets wrapped up to his nose.

He doesn’t bother telling them he’s there to help. Why replace a productive silence with a grudging one, after all? Instead he gets to work on the upper regions of the engine casing, with nothing but his thoughts and the roar of the wind in his ear.

At least…for a while.

“Where’s your meteor?” Zeb asks out of nowhere.

Rau very nearly asks him what he means before Kallus’s crisp core syllables cut through the storm into his ear in a reply.

“Next to my heart,” the tone is sarcastic, clipped, like this is part of some much longer conversation.

Zeb guffaws into Rau’s ear through the piece.

“Figured you would put it by the, y'know, dangling bits. Can’t have those freezing off-”

His sentence cuts off in the sound of an impact and a laugh.

“I don’t have it with me, don’t be vile,“ Kallus spells out in his slow, deliberately crisp way.

Rau frowns, pauses for a moment, and continues his work, chipping away with his harpoon.

The quiet lasts for about a minute.

“Bet you lot don’t even get in a winter coat, eh? You’re probably pink and naked all the time,” Zeb continues.

“I can’t believe a creature incapable of fully erect walking is lecturing me because I put a coat on,” Kallus replies through the channel.

Zeb laughs in Rau’s ear, posture still stopped like his knuckles are meant to be dragging. Rau hadn’t actually noticed. Something of the pitch tells him this is meant to be a private conversation. He realizes how private when the Lasat adds, “‘Cause I like you better without it.”

Rau blinks, pauses his work.



That’s none of his business at all, even if he recognizes the catch in the Ex-Imperial’s voice, the softness of the shame there as he whispers, “…Please.”

“Yeah. Dunno why I did that either. Why’d you though?” Zeb’s voice is demanding, a little rougher.

Rau can see around the hub of the engine how miserably Kallus is scrunching down a little further into his coat and trying not to get noticeably red around the ears, chipping away at the ice with great gusto, not looking at him at all.

“It seemed…the right thing to do at the time,” He manages quietly.

“Yeah.” Zeb growls.

His blows on the ice of the ship seem to get more aggressive, more ringing out against the wind.

Long silence stretches between them all, nothing but the howl of wind and the monotonous, mind-numbing cycle of the three of them chipping the crusts of ice from the warm engines, films of the stuff forming on Rau’s eyelids.

There’s a puff of static that’s someone’s breathing that makes Rau look around again, but it’s just Zeb with his cheek butting against the back of Kallus’s head - gruff, one-armed embrace.

Rau frowns and shakes his head slightly, returning to his work.

The chipping gradually restarts.

“…You alright or have you already lost all feeling in those scrawny little fingers of yours?” Zeb asks after a moment.

“My fingers work just fine,” Kallus replies, sounding exasperated, “I’ll warm them later by wrapping them around your neck and squeezing.”

Zeb laughs, the sound rough and warm, pitched low.

“Once we get back inside, I’ll turn the heatcrank up and you can put your fingers wherever you like, Meiloorun.”

The only response is a huff of static.

Rau makes a face and scrambles his comm before he has to year yet another round of terrible flirting.

It only takes another ten minutes or so before he’s completed his de-icing of the engines. Zeb and Kallus are already in the antechamber, both of them looking startled to see him even before he tugs his helmet off and stops the ice from his boots. Kallus’s pale face is miserably red with the cold, and he’s halfway out of unwrapping himself from his layers.

Zeb seems more focused on rubbing feeling back into his splay-toed bare feet, curmudgeonly frown running deeper than usual.

Rau ignores them both, and the way they stare after him, striding past with his helmet under his arm.

He doesn’t need to know anything about those two or their strange history or rituals

“General, the Ghost is ready for your command, and awaiting departure, sudden as it may be.”

“Thank you, Rau.”

Rau turned on his heel, paused.

Kallus offered him an uncertain nod, a faltering core-world gentility and formality. His speech is slow and careful again.

“I…wasn’t aware we were being assisted by anyone. Thank you, Guardsman Rau.”

Rau offers him a nod in return.

“Agent Meiloorun,” he counters, keeping his expression neutral as the Lasat’s ears flick into immediate alert and his bulging eyes widen.

Kallus’s cold-bitten face goes pale for a single moment before it flushes even redder in horror.

From the cockpit, Syndulla’s little C1 gives a purely wicked noise of glee that wouldn’t sound out of place coming from a particularly unruly child.

Rau turns back on his heel, face perfectly bland, noting the quirk to the general’s mouth.

She knows, he realizes.

He wonders how public the comms actually are.

“Will that be all, General Syndulla?”

“I think that’s plenty, Rau.”

He notices dispassionately the way ex-agent’s mouth has flattened into a pinched, distressed line, staring at the floor like he dearly wants it to swallow him up. The way the huge alien by his side keeps rubbing the back of his own head, pointed ears drawn far back.

Karabast…” the alien breathes, “Look, I can explain,” he hears the Lasat mumble somewhere behind his back as the door slides shut.

Rau marches back to the recreational table, where Sabine Ren’s pointed little face is bent over a dejarik game. It brightens when it sees him.

“So, how’d it go?”

“General Syndulla had a task for me. It is accomplished.”

Rau studied the board, frowning.

“Your interloper is too far forward. What have I told you about overcommitting?”

Sabine sighs and blows her colored bangs off her forehead.

“The same things Kallus says, probably?”

Rau allows himself a thin smile.

“He has his own problems.”

Sabine’s eyes widen, and a bark of laughter escapes her.

“Oh they did NOT.”

Rau says nothing.

Sabine covers her mouth with her hands, laughing hard.

“Don’t you tell anyone. We’ve got bets on for how long it takes Kanan and Ezra to notice.”

Rau quirks an eyebrow.

He might have to help her with that.

“May I ask what was your wager for me?”

Sabine shoots him a grin.

It isn’t nearly as generous as Syndulla’s. Just as sharp, just as quick-witted, but it sounds like the General when she counters with.

“You…may ask?”

My name is Jason I am a 26 year old, tattooed, fit, dominant, alpha male… I have been in many 3 sums and have always been a bit bi curious. I love to please orally and make women squirt with my throbbing BWC.
Today I went to the gym I worked my arms and chest hard before enjoying a leisurely swim, sauna, and hot tub. While I was in the hot tub a fit older black man caught my eye. He was thin, trim beard, abs, and glasses. He looked professional and to be enjoying his soak. I thought to myself how he must have a big cock to go with his captivating vibe.. little did I know I was about to have my curiosity met.
We sat in the hot tub not saying a word to one another, he was chatting with a thick sexy white woman in the tub but occasionally glanced over at me. I was getting hard looking at him and all the hot bodies around me..
After several minutes and with my cock was at rest I got out of the tub to continued on to the showers and change room.. As I soaped up my tight arms, chest, abs, and cock I heard someone else come in and drop their shorts, it was the black man from the tub. He nodded at me and started to soap himself I could see his uncut cock hanging at least 7 “ slowly getting harder… he caught me staring and asked "you like what you see boy..” I reluctantly apologized “sorry sir, I didn’t mean to stare. You have a nice body and I have only really seen naked black men online.” He replied “don’t be sorry, I love when white boys watch me shower… you have a nice cock yourself ” (I was fully hard at almost 8") “thank you” I said “I don’t get any complaints” he looked me up and down “ I bet you want to suck this cock too don’t you?” Nervously I said “yes, too bad we are in public” he pointed to a near by stall and began to stroke his soapy cock.. It grew harder and had to have been over 9" my mouth watered I rinsed my self off and eagerly walked into the stall to sit down. He walked in fully erect and had his cock perfectly level to my waiting mouth. I stared for a moment in aw of what I was about to do… He spoke up “don’t be shy boy, you know you want it.” I grasped his thick cock with my left hand and began stroking it. His cock was thick, warm, hard, and smelt so good having just been washed. I then took him into my mouth. He pushed his BBC in and out of my plump white lips slowly moaning and placing his hand on the back of my head. I looked up at him as I slapped his cock on my tongue and vigorously strokes my own cock.. saliva dropped from my mouth and his cock down onto mine making for perfect lube.. I kept up sucking and stroking totally submitting to him and that big dick.. slurping and sliding all over his BBC I was in a trance. Then he spoke up “ I’m going to nut in that slutty mouth I hope you are ready.” He then proceeded to pump stream after stream of hot thick cum into my mouth.. When I thought he was done I pulled him out rubbing his cock head along my lips. He moaned and shot one final load onto my face simultaneously as I came all over my belly.. He looked at me in pure joy as said “Wow good job, I wasn’t expecting that today. My girl is waiting for me outside but she is gunna LOVE this story. If you are down she loves to be double penetrated, suck big cocks, and have her pussy licked.. would you want to join us later this week to drink and fuck?” I eagerly replied “YES.” “Perfect, meet me here Friday at 6.. You can suck my dick then come with me to meet my girl.” I agreed and he left me in the stall naked and covered in both of our cum.. I can’t wait till Friday!

Where Senility Ends

Summary: Logan cares for Charles in the silo. Did I already write this setting? Too bad, have another one. I don’t even know if it’s heartbreaking or just worn out anymore.

WARNING: a rather graphic quote from x-men is used, regarding Auschwitz. It’s marked with a (5), and is that entire paragraph. It can be skipped

Logan walked into the fallen silo and slammed the door closed, making sure Charles wouldn’t be startled by his sudden appearance. It had taken him several months to realize the professor wasn’t always home anymore, and the times when he wasn’t were coming more and more frequently. Especially as Logan found the necessary medicines harder and harder to come by. It wasn’t that Chuck was becoming senile. He would just lose himself in his powers more often.

It hadn’t been so bad when Magneto had been around to help draw out the younger man. Logan had always admired Erik for his ability to remind Charles of just who and where he was. But the first of the seizures had taken that option out of the equation rather soundly.

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Snapshot: Let’s Get Dirty

A hot and steamy smut inspired by the above picture. Photo edit by @anothermendesfangirl. Enjoy :-)

We had seen the dark clouds of impending doom looming in the sky as we left through the backdoor of the house in Upstate New York, but it didn’t deter us. It had been threatening to rain for hours now, but not so much as a drop had fallen. We were convinced we were going to be safe and make it back from our walk before the heaven’s opened up, but how wrong we were. We had made it to the edge of the woods when it started. First one drop, then two, followed by a vicious downpour. Zoe shrieked making a break for the house.

“Where are you going?” I asked laughing, chasing after her, grabbing her by the waist and spinning her around to face me..

“It’s raining!” she exclaimed, placing her hands on my shoulders.

It had been less than a minute and we were both already soaked through. My hair was hanging over my forehead, dripping water down onto her cheeks, mixing with the rest of the falling rain. “We’re already wet. What’s the rush?” I asked.

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Title: Sergeant

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Request: (½) Could you make one where Bucky is supposed to be training you to be an Avenger and when he sees Tony flirt with you he takes it out on you during a BS argument where he says that your not fit to be an Avanger which just leads to you asking…(2/2)… asking what’s really going on and he fucks you to show that your “his” and it can end fluffy and cheesy if yo want. That’s so much boo ^-^. {This is for @thatonegirljessy99}

Warnings: Smut, NSFW, Oral sex, rough Bucky, Jealous Bucky, fingering, unprotected sex

Originally posted by enochianess

Your name: submit What is this?

“Morning gorgeous” Tony said as he walked into the training room, a smirk on his face. “Really Tony, you have nothing better to do than flirt at 8 am?” I asked as I slipped on my running shoes, getting ready for the three miles treadmill run I had each morning. “Well aren’t you just a ray of sunshine” Tony commented as he proceeded with his daily push up routine. I got onto the treadmill, setting it at a slow jog. I glanced at Tony and rolled my eyes as his brown eyes raked over my form.

“Stark my eyes are up here” I said as I maintained my speed. “That’s funny, because the last I checked my eyes seem to love your chest, (y/n)” he said, an arrogant smile on his face. I got a shock when I heard the sound of weights crashing onto the floor. I stopped the treadmill immediately, stepping off and turning to see Bucky, well a pissed off Bucky.

His blue eyes were raging, filled with obvious anger, his fists were clenched hard, and if looks could kill, Tony would be a pile of ash. Well something the team didn’t know was that Bucky and I are more than just friends. Oh, we were so much more than friends. We were “fuck buddies” have been since he pounded me into his bed three months back. And ever since then, the two of us couldn’t keep our hands off each other.

“Hey that’s newly renovated tin man!” Tony exclaimed as he grabbed his bottle. “(Y/n) keep a hold on him before he trashes my entire gym, I’ll get someone over to fix the floor” he said and left, obviously upset. As soon as the doors slid behind Tony, I glared at Bucky.

“What the hell was that Barnes?” I asked pissed off. “Well if you weren’t too busy flirting with Stark you probably noticed I was here (y/n).” He snarled and I stepped forward. “I noticed you, didn’t you say you did not want the rest to know about us? And me making googly eyes at you wouldn’t bust our cover?” I yelled angrily.

“You aren’t fit to be an Avenger. You get distracted easily” Bucky said casually. “Excuse me? You’re taking it out on me now? Kiss my ass sergeant” I hissed. His eyes darkened as he walked forward, backing me up against the cold wall of the gym. “Call me Sergeant and see what happens to you doll” he threatened, his hand slowly trailing my arms. I breathe deeply as goosebumps formed on my skin. I shot him a smirk. “Kiss my ass, sergeant” I retorted and before I could make another comment, his hand was around my neck.

Bucky slammed his mouth onto mine in a feverish kiss, bruising my lips as he used his free hand to pin my wrists above my head. His mouth moved against mine as he shoved his tongue into my mouth. His wet muscle tangoed with mine. He slowly let go of my hands, and grabbed my legs, wrapping them around his waist. I cupped his face, pulling him in for a deeper kiss, I wrapped my legs tighter around his waist, and moaned into his mouth when his hard on rubbed against my covered cunt. I grind against him, rubbing the material of my shorts against his cock. He growled softly and grabbed my breast squeezing hard causing me to moan louder.

Bucky pulled away, his dark eyes meeting mine as he guided me towards a mattress that laid on the floor. He grabbed my tank top pulling it off, his eyes fixated on my bare chest. “No bra, for Tony?” He asked, his eyes taking the sight of my taut nipples. “For you sergeant” I whispered and squealed when he threw me on to the mattress. I watched as he removed his shirt, throwing it aside. His muscles were obvious, his body was well toned with scars here and there.

He hovered over my chest. “Sergeant….oohh god” I moaned when his mouth covered my nipple, gently sucking. He spread my legs wider, using his knee to rub against my soaking cunt. He gently bit down causing me to buck against him. He held me down with his weight and I whimpered when his cold fingers played with my other taut peak, rolling it between his index finger and thumb. “You’re soaked sweetheart” he whispered and rubbed his knee harder. I moaned when he gently pressed his knee against my covered cunt. I was soaking through my shorts.

Bucky grabbed my ankles pulling me towards him and I squealed. “You’re mine” he growled as he hooked his fingers into the band of my shorts pulling it down only to realize I want wearing anything else. “Aren’t you just asking to be fucked?” He stated, slapping my thigh. “Damn near begging sergeant’ I whispered as he grabbed my legs hooking them over his shoulder. I hissed as my calf came in contact with his cold bionic arm.

I whimpered as his hot breath came in contact with my dripping cunt.

“скажите, что вы хотите возлюбленную"

[tell me what you want sweetheart]

“You sergeant. I want you” I whimpered, begging for him to do something with that tongue of his. He swatted my thigh and I squealed.

“скажите, что вы хотите мне делать с этой симпатичной киске твоей”

[tell me what you want me to do to that pretty pussy of yours]

“I want your tongue…..I want you to finger me with your metal fingers…..please sergeant” I begged nearly pushing myself to orgasm when he traced my slit with one cold finger. “Oh god…” I moaned bucking my hips towards his face.

Bucky shot me a smirk, and then his tongue was flattened on my clit. I cried out in pleasure, feeling his flesh arm wrapping around my thigh pulling me close. “Sweetheart I’ll write a number and you’ll repeat it in Russian If you can’t, you don’t cum” he said and I nodded, trying to keep myself steady as he traced his god sinful tongue over my cunt.

I felt the number seven and I moaned.

“семь” [Seven]

He continued with the number nine, his tongue tripping over my clit and down my slit.

“девять” [Nine] I whimpered

I was in a moaning mess when he reached the fourth, I was begging for release, the knot in my stomach so tight, my pussy was throbbing with want. He stroked my legs, his feather light touches doing nothing but pushing me further to the edge. “Sergeant please….I need to cum….oohh” I moaned.

“кончить для меня куклы”

[cum for me doll]

With those words, I came hard, panting as I did, Bucky’s tongue continued teasing me as he lapped up all of my juices. He set me down, using his fingers to trace my slit. Just as I thought he was bringing me down from my high, he thrust two thick fingers inside me. “Fuck!” I screamed as he moved them, repeatedly pushing his two metal digits deeper into my dripping cunt.

“Sergeant…” I moaned, feeling the pads of his fingers brushing my g-spot. I whimpered feeling my end inch nearer, my second orgasm of this morning approaching as he pressed the pad of his thumb onto my clit, rubbing circles and sending me over the edge. I gripped his arm as I came again. I threw my head back, my toes curled as I climaxed.

Bucky pulled his fingers out and cleaned them with his mouth. I watched him stand up, pulling his sweatpants and black boxer briefs down his legs. His length stood erect, he walked towards me and grabbed me gently by the arm. I knelt down knowing what he wanted me to do.

I fisted him, feeling his smooth, taut and rock hard cock. I gave his tip a few kitten licks, and moaned softly when he webbed his fingers through my hair, gently pulling it into a loose ponytail. I took his cock into my mouth, taking him in deeper inch by inch till his fat tip hit the back of my throat.

“бог куклы, ваш рот чувствует себя так хорошо” he groaned pulling my ponytail a little harder as he pushed his cock further in to my mouth.

[god doll, your mouth feels so good]

I sucked him harder, and when his dick twitched in my mouth, I knew he was close. So I pulled out the big guns, using my hands to play with his balls, gently cupping and rubbing them. He groaned, thrusting his hips. My gag reflex kicked in and I gagged on his cock. He twitched another time and he came into my mouth. I choked on his thick cum, tears forming in my eyes.

Bucky pulled out of my mouth, and I swallowed whatever he had to offer. “Good girl sweetheart” he said.

Bucky sat down on the mattress, and pulled me towards him. “Come here” I complied and swung my leg around his waist, followed by my left. He lifted me up, positioning his cock at my slick entrance. He coated his tip with my previous orgasm and my saliva. Slowly I sank down on his length. “Sergeant” I whimpered as his cock slid deeper into my cunt.

We both moaned when he filled me to the hilt. I started moving, bringing myself up before slamming myself down on his thick cock. “Shit (y/n)” he groaned. I whimpered softly as his hands held onto to my waist, bringing me up. He thrust upwards, and I moaned when his cock prodded my g-spot each time I sank down on him.

“ffuck…. (y/n)” he groaned as he tightened his grip on my waist. I moved faster, bouncing up and down on his cock, he watched me, his eyes dark with lust as he watched me ride him. I screwed my eyes shut, my pussy aching to cum. His eyes raked over my breasts which bounced every time I moved. “God I love these” he said softly. I cried out as my end drew near.

Bucky slowly lifted me up, pushing me onto my back. He spread my legs, positioning his cock at my entrance before he slammed in hard. He started moving at an animalistic pace, pounding my cunt. “Yes….yes…yes….ffuck” I screamed. The sounds in the room were pornographic as skin slapped against skin.

“I’m cumming” I whimpered, my walls tightened around his shaft, my walls squeezing him as I held onto to his bicep. I screamed his name as I came hard, I threw my head back, my legs trembling from the intense pleasure. Bucky followed, my walls milking him of his orgasm. He stilled. “Fuck…. (y/n)” he moaned as he came hard, his hot cum coating my walls.

Bucky pulled out panting as he rolled over. “I’m telling them about us, I don’t want Tony flirting with you again” he said as he handed me my shorts. I chuckled. “So you were jealous” I joked and he shot me a playful glare.

“If the two of you are done screwing each other’s brains out, sanitize the who god damn gym!” Tony’s voice echoed over the system. I heard Natasha’s laughter and Steve chuckling.

“Well I don’t think there’s a need for that. They already know” I said and pulled my tank top on. Bucky shot me a smirk.

“это просто означает, что я могу винт, который вы в любое время я хочу возлюбленную”

[that just means I can screw you anytime I want sweetheart]

Hope you enjoyed it!;)

“As the guilds flourished, the workman’s new attitude toward his labour strengthened. His work was lifting him out of the wretchedness in which his forefathers lived, and making of him a man who, through the representatives of his guild, could speak almost on terms of equality with princes. It was therefore no longer a thing to be regretted as a hard necessity, which he would certainly dispense with if he could; it was a thing to be respected, the thing that made him a man who could walk erect among his fellows.”
— W. R. Hayward, G. W. Johnson, 1936