what PETER PARKER sends back when you send him a risqué photo and a flirty text that tests his patience. . . you know he’s busy right now, he just told you what he’s working on, how he’s got a deadline, and he just can’t come over. you decide to be generous, take a pic of your cleavage in a really cute set with a, “aw really ??:( 💞 but i miss u sooo bad”
it takes him less than a second to respond with this picture. you can see it in the flex of his forearm, the hair standing on end - no doubt tossed carelessly n pulled on, that expression on his face. it’d be indescribable to anyone but you, you can read him like a book. he’s not just interested, he’s frustrated. no one else knows how badly peter hates having temptation dangle over his head, n you’re bobbing it like a carrot on a stick. he doesn’t say anything for a bit, but then you hear your phone ding.
“a quick one okay? will you promise to be good”
you can’t type your consent fast enough, and you hear the familiar thwip outside your window, followed closely by the clambering of his crawl inside, and the hasty unbuckling of his belt. looks like he rushed over in civvies. he flashes a grins at you, “remember we gotta be fast.“ he flicks his shirt up n over his head, the web shooter on his wrist aims at your hip, “c’mere,” her jerks you over by the leash of his web and right into him.
one of the biggest tragedies of early 2010s tumblr is that the devil (bbc sherlock) took root as the face of johnlock when the guy ritchie films were RIGHT there
this pride month, keep the disabled queer people in mind who can't celebrate pride the 'regular way' aka by going to parades and lots of events. keep the homebound, bedbound, and other disabled queers who can't go in mind. those people who see everyone else party and are unable to attend. text them, wish them a happy pride, visit them and celebrate in a way that works for them. it's already hard not to be able to go to all of these events, it's even harder to be left behind because of it.
happy disability pride month to mean cripples, nasty addicts, people with down syndrome who arent nice and talk constant shit, wheelchair users that WILL run you over, autists that dont care and arent about to pretend to, people who lie to their psychiatrists, people that sit on the floor in public places with no benches, amputees that lie profusely about "what happened"; to the "noncompliant", the "drug seeking", the "mean", the "difficult" and the "undeserving", and so on and so forth, i love us all and we deserve the world actually mwah mwah
I haven't seen anyone talking about this and just wanted to make a quick post on here.
Akihiro Miwa recently passed away peacefully june 20th, and was not only a drag queen and a queer icon, but also the japanese voice of Arceus in the movie Arceus and the jewel of life, as well as the witch from Howl's moving castle and Moro from Princess Mononke.
Rest in peace and thank you for the wonderfull impact you made in this world.
“The hunter did not hate the wolf. The wolf did not hate the sheep. But violence felt inevitable between them. Perhaps, I thought, this was the way of the world.”
"making them afraid will make them more racist" that's wild to me, because we live in a whole culture of social consequences for antiracism anyway. It is literally safer to be a racist than it is to speak up against it, socially.
Idk about you, but "I'm afraid no one will want to be my friend if I'm a white supremacist" seems like a pretty logical thought process to have, and I wish THAT were the normal and not "I'm afraid my friends will hate me if I tell them they made racist jokes".
Psst, hey, Marilyn Monroe’s image as a freewheeling sexpot was a carefully constructed lie. The real Marilyn Monroe was a roiling tragedy and her life was an indictment of our society as a whole. She was orphaned after her mother had a schizophrenic breakdown, bounced around between foster homes where she was sexually abused, and married a 21-year-old at 16 to get out of being sent to an orphanage. Hugh Hefner published nude photos of her without her consent that were taken when she was 23 and desperate. She suffered severe anxiety and depression, which she coped with by drinking and using barbiturates, and was already a full-blown addict when she became famous in the mid-50s. Her career was one of exploitation, condescension and alienation, and she killed herself at 36. That Hugh Hefner, a man who was at best an unpleasant footnote in her life, felt entitled to be buried next to her is one more humiliation in a pop cultural landscape we should all be ashamed of.
Can I just also say, in addition to all this, that I’m still pissed off about the fact that Joe DiMaggio swooped in and gave Marilyn a Christian funeral before her Rabbi could return from a trip overseas? ‘Cause that shit is fucked up.
So many men who claimed to be in love with her, and not one could fucking respect her wishes, even in death.
“Put him on his knees give him something to believe in” has the exact same energy and depth of meaning as anything Hozier puts out on the regular but since it’s sung by Megan Thee Stallion no one takes it seriously. In this essay I will-
To flesh this out a little bit more: both Megan Thee Stallion and Hozier write and sing really sexual songs, but they’re different in that Hozier’s music is typically “let me worship you” while Megan’s is usually “I’m worshipping myself,” which makes all the difference because it’s an acceptance of power rather than the giving of it. He’s the sinner, she’s the saint. However, taking their difference in genres out of it, people don’t usually seem to take Megan Thee Stallion’s music seriously in comparison to Hozier because a) her lyrics are more overtly and blatantly sexual and b)she’s claiming her sexuality for herself, and that scares a lot of people. The secret, no-one-wants-to-talk-about reason is that she’s a confident black woman, which terrifies people way than sex does. In conclusion, Hozier and Megan Thee Stallion are two sides of the same poetic, sexual coin, but people just don’t want to admit it. Which is WHY a collaboration between Hozier and Megan would be so powerful that it would change the timeline as we know it yes I will elaborate
he’s dragging you around with a hand around your waist. it’s arkham knight era so he’s especially huge and grotesquely disproportionate. he says he, “just got out of the slammer.” and when you’re on your back pushing at his teeth, “you’re either this, or you’re lunch.” bcos he doesn’t have quarrels with either.
your clothes are ripped up, you’ve got scratches on your skin. you claw at the ground when he’s got your ankle in his grip, dragging you further into the depths. he lets you run a little bit so he can play cat n mouse, let himself get excited, listen to you scream when he slams you back down onto the ground. he knows you’re gonna have bruises, he wishes he could see em rn. long tongue makes you shy away when it comes to lick at your jugular, softly threatening how fragile you are compared to him. tears pool at the corners of your eyes when he begins to help himself, bcos you can’t push him off you, you can’t physically overpower a bulldozer. “been too long, sugar.” he muses, adjusting to line himself up with your legs he’s pinning open, “i don’t wanna wait any longer.” he licks his own teeth, toying with you, playing with his food. he’s coaxed himself out, now he’s getting closer to making you a sex doll for your probable last moments
Jack Abbot wants to find love again - he's just not quite ready to start dating yet
cw - portal pussy, dub con, reader is a sex worker
Jack never thought he'd be one of those guys.
One of those creepy old guys that have a favourite porn star, or pays for prostitutes. He's only been to a strip club once in his life when he was in the army. He'd been dragged by one of the older guys and Jack had tried to say that he had a fiance. That only made him try harder, spouting some bullshit about not being able to get married until Jack experienced the "full range of the female species" whatever the fuck that meant. Jack stopped fighting, and slipped back to the barracks as soon as his very awkward lap dance was over and called his future wife in tears.
All this to say, Jack is not a pervert.
But it's hard to be sure of this fact when he's scrolling through the options on the portal pussy website.
He's been in kind of a weird head space lately. He's felt more secure recently, almost like he's ready to start dating again but every time he thinks about going out to a bar with the explicit purpose of talking to women, or one of those godforsaken apps, his hands get clammy and he feels the begging of a panic attack starting to set in.
So maybe he's not quite ready for that step, but he's getting tired of his hand.
He doesn't even look at the thing for the first two weeks he has it, disgusted with himself for actually going through with it. The small round container with a twist off lid sits next to his bed, mocking him, reminding him of how low he's stooped.
But then his wedding anniversary rolls around. And his wife's side of the bed is still so empty.
He caves. He reaches over and twists the lid open. He's half hoping it'll be empty, that he got scammed and his credit card numbers are now on the dark web somewhere.
Instead, plump folds and pretty skin stare back at him. Guilt radiates from him in waves as he brings the container up to his nose and take a deep breathe.
Fuck, it's been too long.
His hand twitches at his side and he gives in. It's a bit strange at first, not knowing what someone's face looks like when you're pulling apart their outer folds with your fingers, looking at what you're working with. He has none of his usual tells to figure out if he's doing good or not - no changes in expression, no whispers in his ear, no full body shudders as they fall apart on his fingers.
But he's never backed down from a challenge before. He eases into it. His fingers slip through with no resistance. From the outside he doesn't have much indication about what you feel, but his mother raised a gentleman so he rubs slow circles on your clit first.
He laughs as your cunt clenches around nothing. He teases you more, two fingers sliding along your lips just ghosting over your entrance, his thumb keeping light pressure on your clit. He wishes he could see her face.
After he thinks she's had enough he slips one finger side, moaning at wet it makes when he flexes his fingers. Fuck, he missed this. He massages her walls, finding that spot that makes her squeeze his fingers.
His cock is straining against his pants. He ignores it for now, too entranced on working on the task at him. He hesitates, bringing it up to his lips. But curiosity gets the better of him. He leans forward, sucking her clit into his mouth, smiling to himself has she cums undone for him
*****
Of course, of course this new guy would chose now to use your pussy for the first time.
You slump against the bathroom door, reaching behind you with shaky hands until the lock clicks into place.
You got the notification that you had a new buyer two weeks ago. And since then nothing, you don't even think that that he's opened the damn thing in that time. And you've been wearing your special panties for your contractually obligated time, but your alarm didn't go off and you rushed to make it to your shift on time, completely forgetting about your side hustle.
You slump against the sink, biting down on your fist to keep from moaning out.
You're a little pissed off, the first time your client is actually good at sex and you're at work. You're still new to this, your past two clients never gave a shit about your body. They'd use your pussy without so much as touching your clit. Which didn't surprise you, you'd only signed up to make some extra cash during residency.
But this new client was playing your body like a damn fiddle.
It was difficult enough to ignore when he was teasing your folds while you were trying to explain the disimpaction procedure to your elderly patient. But then his stupidly thick fingers had stretched you open and you were scrambling to the bathroom before you orgasmed in front of poor 80 year old Mrs. Bennet and her concerned teenage grandchild who brought her in.
The room suddenly gets very hot as his fingers start to curl inside you. You're panting, hunched over the sink as you struggle to breathe. That fucking asshole, keeping you on edge - letting you get so close to what you want but not letting you finish.
You take a peak at your watch, someone's definitely going to start wondering where you are soon.
But it's really hard to care when the prick of stubble scratches at your lips before he sucks on your clit. Your eyes shoot open, chest heaving as you bite down on your fist so hard you taste metal on your tongue.
You squeeze your thighs together, trying to quell the throb between your legs to no avail. As soon as you straighten yourself out and walk out the door, that tongue returns, this time lapping at your clit.
dana scully character of all time. she's five foot two. her two day jobs are cutting up dead people and professional ghostbuster. she's got daddy issues. she owns a fluffy little dog. she's held multiple different government officials hostage multiple times. she kissed her boss on the mouth. she accuses said boss of trying to kill her like once a year with literally no foundation. she's catholic but her favorite movie is the exorcist. she shot her best friend. she was abducted by aliens and still refuses to believe in them. she dresses like an underpaid arts teacher. she met god in a parking garage. out of the two times the man she's been blisteringly in love with for years confessed his feelings to her, the first time she got so overwhelmed she started crying and the second time she thought he was high on painkillers. she can't park a car. she once had an existential crisis, got a tattoo, and slept with a serial killer. she wears socks on the beach. she might be immortal
