I don’t even know where to begin anymore. My parents’ health is getting worse, we still need $537 for their medication, and the Tumblr account I was using to reach people and ask for help was suddenly deleted. It feels like every door is closing while I am desperately trying to save my mother and father 😔💔
I am tired of crying, tired of worrying, and tired of feeling helpless. All I want is to get the medicine my parents need. They spent their lives taking care of me, and now I am terrified that I will fail them when they need me most.😔
Please, don’t scroll away. If only 22 people donate $25, we can reach the goal. We can do this together. What feels like a small amount to one person could mean everything to my family. Please donate now if you can, and if you cannot, share our story. Together, we can help my parents get the medication they urgently need before it’s too late. 🙏💔😔
I write these words with a broken heart. To everyone who reads this and ignores it, you might skim this post quickly, but my child might not even have two seconds. His body is collapsing from malnutrition and a rash as you read these words.
My children, Qamar and Omar, are completely exhausted. A rash is ravaging their frail bodies, and malnutrition is stealing what little childhood they have left. All I want as a mother is safety for them; treatment to heal their wounds, and milk and food to sustain them. What we are asking for is not a luxury, but their most basic right to survive. Please don't let them wither away before my eyes; donate now.
I write these words with a broken heart. To everyone who reads this and ignores it, you might skim this post quickly, but my child might not even have two seconds. His body is collapsing from malnutrition and a rash as you read these words.
My children, Qamar and Omar, are completely exhausted. A rash is ravaging their frail bodies, and malnutrition is stealing what little childhood they have left. All I want as a mother is safety for them; treatment to heal their wounds, and milk and food to sustain them. What we are asking for is not a luxury, but their most basic right to survive. Please don't let them wither away before my eyes; donate now.
If this page suddenly goes silent one day, know that my brother Samer didn’t make it. I will never forget those who saw him suffering from severe bombing injuries, lacking his vital medications, yet chose silence and kept scrolling.
I feel completely shattered and deeply ashamed begging strangers for help every single day. This endless nightmare has stripped us of everything, forcing me to sacrifice even my own dignity just to keep my brother and my family alive.
I want nothing from this world except to see Samer healthy and free of pain, and to save my family from this slow death. Please donate so we can afford his essential psychiatric and medical treatments before it’s too late.
If this page suddenly goes silent one day, know that my brother Samer didn’t make it. I will never forget those who saw him suffering from severe bombing injuries, lacking his vital medications, yet chose silence and kept scrolling.
I feel completely shattered and deeply ashamed begging strangers for help every single day. This endless nightmare has stripped us of everything, forcing me to sacrifice even my own dignity just to keep my brother and my family alive.
I want nothing from this world except to see Samer healthy and free of pain, and to save my family from this slow death. Please donate so we can afford his essential psychiatric and medical treatments before it’s too late.
Friends, thank you so much for the massive support and these 15 recent donations!
While this high engagement gives us hope, we deeply wish to see more donations matching this incredible reach. Our lives and Samer's survival depend entirely on your financial help. Please keep this momentum going.
If this page suddenly goes silent one day, know that my brother Samer didn’t make it. I will never forget those who saw him suffering from severe bombing injuries, lacking his vital medications, yet chose silence and kept scrolling.
I feel completely shattered and deeply ashamed begging strangers for help every single day. This endless nightmare has stripped us of everything, forcing me to sacrifice even my own dignity just to keep my brother and my family alive.
I want nothing from this world except to see Samer healthy and free of pain, and to save my family from this slow death. Please donate so we can afford his essential psychiatric and medical treatments before it’s too late.
Friends, thank you so much for the massive support and these 15 recent donations!
While this high engagement gives us hope, we deeply wish to see more donations matching this incredible reach. Our lives and Samer's survival depend entirely on your financial help. Please keep this momentum going.
Thank you so much for the 12 additional donations! My family consists of 12 people. We have already lost my father and my brother to this war, and we cannot afford to lose Samer.
Yes! Yes! Yes! Finally, I found a short video essay regarding Euphoria's weird and voyeuristic undertones that isn't conservative nor does it shit on sex workers. Sam Levinson is a weirdo, and we should analyse why he does the shit he does. But often online, this criticism gets boiled down to "sex bad" and "nudity bad." Like, come on, people... let's actually get it together.
Here you can donate to the families in Gaza. We have collected $3,312 / $20,000. 🙏🙏
The voice of truth for every Palestinian 🇵🇸
An Israeli soldier is seen firing randomly toward civilian homes and displacement tents in Gaza, describing the act as “for entertainment.”
At a time when civilians are being killed daily by stray bullets coming from the eastern areas of the Strip, violence is treated as a game wituhout accountability, and without humanity.
This is not an “isolated incident.”
This is not a “mistake.”
It reflects a reality where civilians are dehumanized and treated as targets.
Documenting these acts is a duty.
Silence is complicity.
After the ceasefire !!
Airstrikes targeting displacement tents in Gaza despite claims of a ceasefire and narratives that the war has “ended.”
For civilians on the ground, there is no post-war reality. There is no safety. Only changing methods of the same violence.
A ceasefire on paper does not stop bombs in the sky.
And declarations of peace mean nothing when tents are still being bombed.
Donations for GAZA!!
This donation campaign is for ANAS family. Not for strangers, not for a cause I'm distant from but for the people who raised me, the people I love, the people I'm terrified of losing.
They are in Gaza, trying to survive something no human being should ever have to endure. Constant bombardment, displacement, hunger, fear, and the feeling that tomorrow is never guaranteed. Every day is about staying alive one more night.
If you choose to help, you are not donating to an abstract crisis. You are helping real people with names, memories, and lives that matter to me more than anything.
—-This is a verified Chuffed campaign to support family:
Campaign Update
Some accounts are tagged to help people see this campaign. It’s not spam. If you don’t want to participate, simply scroll.
Where is your sense of Propriety? Ser Duncan X Reader
You're finally seeing Duncan after months... and months
TLDR: Duncan x Wife Reader (Reader has a child) SOME SPELLING MISTAKES
He was always away, that was the worst part of it all. He’d either be called to battle or for inquiry; all part of the responsibilities that came with being a knight, especially one who had gained favour with House Targaryen. Weeks, sometimes months, would go by without you so much as seeing him. In the beginning, it was torture. To two newlyweds, the idea of being separated was unbearable, unfathomable, but over the years, you and Duncan had developed a steady understanding of your marriage. This was his duty, how he put food on the table; it was also something he loved dearly, almost as much as he loved you, and he’d give neither up.
Yes, you’d grown an understanding, but it did not dull the ache that resfuraced every time he was called away. This ache that had grown since the birth of your child, you’d gotten used to it, learned to ignore it.
Though today was not the day to dwell on it, for you’d be seeing Duncan today, finally touching, kissing, and perhaps even more after he’d been away for seven long months, quelling whatever rebellion that was forming against King Baelor, in the Storm Lands. You’d be reunited at last, and gods, you were bursting at the seams. Ripples of excitement coursed through your body, threatening to shoot out from your veins. You were like a child on their name day, you couldn’t sit still in your carriage! Your little one, who sat on your lap, sucking his fingers, could sense this unregulated energy; in fact, it was rubbing off on him. He squealed loudly as he bounced in your lap.
“Hush now.” You chided, though there was barely reproach in your voice. You looked down at him with a smile, and he looked back up at you. Seeing his toothless grin, combined with the gentle clopping of the horse’s hooves, the gentle roll of the carriage onward, and the very notion that Duncan would be standing at the gates of Kingslanding, waiting, with his ridiculously large frame and stupid grin on his face, consumed you entirely. You swelled with joy so much so that you were shaking. You found yourself overwhelmed with the desire to squeal, like your little one, and squeal you did.
“Ahhhhhh!” The overstimulated sound was ripped from your throat before you could stop it. The carriage immediately halted, causing your little one to jolt. One of the banner boys came rushing to the carriage door. He ripped it open in a panic.
“My lady, are you alright?” He looked around for any danger or harm.
“Yes, I am.” You stammered; a smile crept up on your lips. “Yes, I ummm. Yes. I saw a spider, carry on.”
The banner boy side-eyed you, but did not let his thought be known. “Right.” He nodded as he closed the carriage door.
You stifled a giggle as the banner boy walked away, god heavens, where was your Propriety?. You weren’t a child; you couldn’t just go around squealing, and yet you couldn’t help it. You were going to see Dunk.
How good is their head game? PART I- Targaryen Male Edition AKOTSK
Let's rank how good the following would be at eating you out... hehe
I'm sorry to any Daeron fans LMAO
BAELOR
Baelor is naturally gifted in all manner of things, and because he is never half-hearted with anything he sets out to do, when he goes down on you, it's an otherworldly experience. When his head is wedged between your thighs, holding you open insistently as his tongue works its magic, you ascend to another realm. He’ll begin with gentle kisses between your thighs, a peck here and there to build up your desire. He’ll even occasionally rub your sensitive pussy before fully committing, and commit he does. Every stroke and flick of his tongue is measured and precise; fuelled by care and devotion. Baelor worships you softly, lavishing your cunt tenderly but with a deep hunger. You cum at least two times. 10/10
MAEKAR
Maekar is annoyed with any task or obligation he has to fulfill unless it's the obligation between your legs. That is one thing he does not consider a chore; it's just a bit of fun for him. He dives right in with an open-mouthed kiss to your cunt, before he begins sucking gently. He finds it amusing to watch you squirm and wail as he tongue fucks you. He places one of his strong hands on your back, holding you down, while the other hand holds you open by your thigh as he devours you from behind. He doesn’t hold back as he hot breath fans your slit, while his nose bumps against your hardened clitoris or as your hips stutter. With Maekar, you’ll stop cumming when he says so. 9/10
AERION
Aerion is a bully. He doesn’t usually deign to use his mouth on you as he finds such an act a tad bit debasing. It's something you should do for him, not the other way around. When he does do it, and I mean really do it, without any tricks or intentions of teasing for his own amusement, it's glorious. But if he’s in a mood to deprive you, it's almost as bad as if he hadn’t. Aerion will part your legs and crawl between them. He uses his mischievous tongue to lap at your pussy with skill and and prescion, particularly focusing on your clitoris. He knows the right way to flick, lick, and rub it to get you bucking your hips and grinding on his face. When he notices that you’re enjoying yourself or, god forbid, close to climax, he’ll slow or lessen his efforts; sometimes, outright stop so you can look down and complain. The second you open your mouth to utter a word, he’ll smirk and thrust his tongue or fingers back inside you. If you cum… well, that’s on you. 7/10
DAERON
Daeron doesn’t mean to be a selfish lover; he just can’t help it. He’s warding off a hangover most days or is straight up drunk. You don’t even hold up to high standards when it comes to him pleasuring you with his mouth; the bar is quite low. But still he insists because he loves you; you really wish he wouldn’t. His foreplay is atrocious, drunken, and sloppy. He’ll kiss your pussy as if making out with it; however, in all the wrong spots, at the wrong pace. He breathes heavily and uncomfortably into your pussy, almost like a kettle letting off steam inside. It's too hot, too wet. On one occasion, he accidentally burped into your folds, the queef travelled up your cunt, and you shivered. Gross!
If Daeron wants to pleasure you with his mouth, it's best if you take control and ride him face. 5/10
Maekar has grown fond of his cupbearer but is unsure of how to navigate his feelings as a grumpy old man who hasn’t loved in years. Oh, and to make matters worse, he is experiencing a queer awakening. Enjoy!
TW: Period Typical Homophobia
For my homie, my friend Craig, who loves maekar and wishes he could shag him.
“Am I mishearing you, brother?” Baelor looks at his younger brother with a confusion and uncertainty that made Maekar’s gut roll unpleasantly. “You mean to tell me you’ve developed a proclivity for men?”
“Not men!” Maekar hisses almost immediately. In a flash, he shoots down his brother’s questioning, which is largely based in truth. It’s not something Maekar would like to confront, or admit, let alone say out loud, around other people. It was a miracle, and a frankly moment of desperation that he’d even invited Baelor to Summerhal and pulled him into a private chamber beneath the castle, just beyond the catacombs, to confess what had been ailing him for many moons.
Too long this anomaly has troubled Maekar, driving him to the brink of madness as he lay awake at night. He’d stare up at the ceiling as he fantasized about the strong, framed shoulders of another man. He found himself salivating at the very thought of the sturdy and calloused hands that belonged to a serving boy, rather than the soft curves of a high-born lady. It was a cursed thing! More cursed when he awoke with a throbbing between his legs.
By the gods!
Maekar began to pace around in the private quarter. “I merely have an attraction to him, only him, no other man.” And gods were Maekar attracted.
In all his years of living and occupying Westeros, he’d never seen someone so tantalising; man or woman. Since laying his eyes on this young cupbearer, a fire had begun burning inside him, one that he’d thought was long extinguished since Dyanna’s death. But now, a desire had been rekindled inside of Maekar, and no matter how hard he tried to quell or quash it, it would simply not go away.
“Well…” Baelor mutters. He looks at his brother from the pillar he’s leaning against. He’s silent for a while, too long for Maekar’s impatient liking. Maekar stops pacing and turns to him.
“Well?” He snaps. “What is it that I should do? I called for your council, not so you could gape at me.”
Baelor is flabbergasted by the question. Such a reaction is no help to Meakr’s turmoil or understanding of himself, nor is the answer that slips from Baelor’s lips mere seconds after. “I am unsure, brother.”
“Unsure?” Maekar snorts. “I’ve ridden into battle with you, but at the first sign of something queer, in relation to me, then, you become unsure?” Insecurity bleeds from his voice.
“You misunderstand me, brother,” Baelor says with a swiftness to avoid escalation and to silence the voices in his brother’s head. He steps away from the pillar and saunters towards Maekar.
Maeakr suppresses a gulp. His older brother’s directness and unabashed confidence in the face of anything and everything unnerve him; it always has. Maeakr finds himself tensing up, anticipating the worst. But then Baelor put his hand on his brother’s shoulder, Maekar finds himself relaxing.
“It is not this… queerness that frightens me, or an attraction to men, but this fear in you. It means this matter has truly shaken you.”
“Why did you not come to me earlier?” Baelor’s words invoke guilt inside Maekar; he cannot meet his brother’s eyes.
“I was unsure you’d listen or understand,” Maekar admits.
“I will always understand, even when I don't,” Baelor says firmly, always ready to affirm his brother. He squeezes Maekar’s shoulder. Though Maekar did not meet his gaze, he knew Baelor’s eyes were radiating that look; that damn look. It was the look that melted all worries and troubles.
“Tell me about him.” Baelor coaxes gently, removing his hand from Maekar’s shoulder and putting it behind his back. He speaks in earnest, with genuine interest.
Maekar shrugs, portraying a disposition of calm or ease, but internally, his stomach is performing a wildling jig. “He’s young, strong, calm, of good character,” he recalls all he can of the young man. He recalls the brief moments where he served Maekar, bearing his cup or assisting in flaying an animal. Maekar knew little of the younger man, but of what he did know, he found himself liking grealtly.
Baelor nods approvingly. A smile crept onto his lips, he’d never heard his brother describe anything or anyone with such interest of fevror; not since Maekar’s late wife, and not since they were young men. “A knight or lord then?” Surely this man had to be of considerable character, social standing, and nobility.
Maekar hesitates. “ He’s a serving boy,”
“A what-”
“A serving boy!-” Maekar snaps. He raises his voice, but quickly reels himself in. “A serving boy.” He says more calmly.
Baelor exhales slowly. This was a matter that truly boggled his mind. His surprise came not from his brother’s attraction to another man, no, that was not out of the ordinary, but his brother’s attraction to someone of a lower station was certainly perplexing; his brother of all people was attracted to a serving boy.
“He truly must be a different kind of man.” Baelor notes.
“He is,” Maekar says softly. He closes his eyes briefly, imagining the young man’s face. “he is.”
“Is it my approval you seek, brother?” That question rips Maekar from his daydreaming. His lips curl into a semi-frown and a sneer. “I don’t need your fukcing approval.”
That was a lie. Maekar wanted it, he craved it, he needed it.
Please tell me what I desire is not wrong. Maekar’s prayer echoed in his head. Please tell me it is not wrong in the eyes of the gods, but more so that it is not wrong in your eyes, brother.
An uncomfortable silence was thrust upon the two brothers for some time. Maekar twitched, his hands tapping the side of his own leg, as Baelor stood there, trying to find the right words. After some thought, he spoke. He was careful and considerate.
“My wife, Jena, was quite skittish around me until I spoke to her... properly. I gained her favour when I spoke to her as myself, not as Baelor Tarygen or the heir to the Iron Throne.” Baelor smiles faintly.
“She spoke to me freely as when we took a turn around the courtyard together and ate a hearty meal away from prying eyes… a hearty meal.”
Maekar frowned. “A hearty meal-What the fuck are you-”
“Everyone likes to be wine and dined, man or woman. They enjoy good conversation, while being spoken with, not at.” Baelor remarks with a knowing smile. It clicked Maekar’s head, not only the meanings of his brother’s words but the subtle approval in them. He had Baelor’s support. Maekar could hear the enthusiasm that came from his brother’s words, and that was present in his smile.
Maekar nods. “Yes, of course.”
It was true, everyone did enjoy a good wining and dining, a good meal, with good talk, especially a cup bearer ran ragged working the halls of Summerhall. That was where Maeakr would start.
He’s perpetually annoyed because he has to attend small council meetings, unnecessary banquets, gatherings, or outings that reinforce the Targaryen claim and power over the realm… That is, unless you are there, with him. Your presence makes it just a tad bit bearable. During these oh so tedious obligations, he’ll demand that you be seated next to him. He’ll hold your hand or stroke your thigh beneath the table, all while complaining and rolling his eyes.
Maekar was reluctant to court you, even more so to publicly confirm your coupling. Frankly, he was skittish regarding the age gap between the two of you; he worried about the whispers and judgmental gazes that would inevitably follow him. To many outsiders, he was just another elderly lord, looking to snatch up and corrupt a young beauty, but to others, you were a temptress, a predator. In the eyes of some, you were a sultry young thing, looking to take advantage of a lonely widower. Naturally, Maekar would not stand for any slander against you. He had deigned for something more private, but quickly realised it was dishonouring your name, letting such rumours float about unchecked, and so he married you.
Your marriage/engagement to him was a surprisingly opulent and extravagant affair; you’d always thought Maekar was not one for frills or over-the-top declarations of affection, but you were wrong. When it came to you, he spared no expense. He’d ordered the finest silk from Oldtown, just for your wedding gown, jewels from the wealthiest merchants in Braavos, and rings recovered from the remnants of Valyria. There was no price too high for his bride.
Maekar may have been old, but he certainly fucked like a man in his prime. His desire for you had increased tenfold after you’d become his wife. There wasn’t a waking moment that he wasn’t thinking about taking you. He daydreamed about the softness of your skin, the tenderness of your breast, or the tight and warm feeling of your cunt. Just the thought of your face scrunched up in pleasure got him going. It didn’t matter wherever he was. His appetite surged; It gave him an unnatural level of stamina.
When Maekar inevitably fathered a babe after your many trysts, he could not hide his pride. There was a haughty glow to him that could not be quelled. It became more present as your belly swelled, as the evidence of his seed was visible to everyone. He could not deny how another Targaryen son pleased him, especially after fathering three sons, two of which he considered failures; I’ll let you decide which.
To be completely fair it's possible Heathcliff could be Spanish or Italian or something that they didn't really consider white back then.
No.
I reject this. The text is pretty clear that he has dark skin and looks distinctly non-white in a way that being from Spain or Italy wouldn't explain it. It's not ambiguous to anyone in the book. He is immediately recognized as a racial other. He is speculated to be Romani or South Asian primarily. Also if the language he spoke was Spanish or Italian it would have been recognized as something other than "gibberish" by Nelly and the rest of the household.
I really don't think his race is as ambiguous as people make it out to be. He is almost definitely either Romani or South Asian and not light-skinned either.
Does it matter which of those he is? Not particularly but because he looks the way he does he is a victim most consistently of anti-ziganism.
Lin: The Comfort Of Complacency, but the desire for more
Basic Commentary About Lin from Spirited Away from an almost graduated University student, who's frankly scared and so disconnected from their own life.
Of all the characters in Spirited Away, Lin will always be my favorite. She stands out to me in this beautiful story of a lost girl navigating the realm of spirits and the supernatural, as well as the inescapable coming of age.
Aside from the many theories that surround her character, theories regarding her humanity and origins, I find that what is most interesting about her is that she is a great tool for the exploration of the idea of
"wanting' or dreaming; dreaming of something out there that is bigger and better than what you're currently saddled with, but being too afraid to pursue it because of the comfort and safety you're entangled in.
Lin is a young woman/spirit toiling endlessly as a worker, trapped in the unpredictable and exploitative conditions of the bathhouse. She is a cog in this supernatural capitalist wheel. Like Chihiro and other workers in the bath house, she desires to leave; it's her dream, but that's all it ever is: a dream. When given the opportunity to leave, she doesn't take it. Perhaps out of fear of the unknown, after all, the bathhouse, for the longest time, is all she's known. It's most likely she'll never leave.
I've always viewed Lin as a warning, as someone who often dares to dream but is squeamish about said dreams escaping the inner corners of my mind. Sometimes I'm downright frightened.
And so, I ask myself, do I die one day, knowing that I had lived in a complacent, unfilled, yet comfortable existence, or do I venture for something more, even if this something doesn't exist?
Either way, tonight I'm going to read some fanfiction.
He’d been away too long, far too long. The bed frame had creaked softly thirty minutes ago. The dip on his side of the mattress was gone, and his side of the bed was now cold and vacant.
You groaned as your eyes slowly opened. You squinted through the darkness and looked around the room. It wasn’t uncommon for Remmick to get up in the night for brief periods, since he slept in the day, but it was unusual for him to be away from your side this long.
“Where is he?” You said through a yawn. You were now fully sat up in bed. You adjusted the bonnet that was hanging off your head, though it should have been firm. A scowl came upon your lips; the braids beneath your bonnet were also a bit loose.
“I know that he did not-” Remmick had been playing with your hair while you slept. Again.
You got out of bed and turned on the light in your room. You walked through the door and down the hall. Not only were you curious about where Remmick was, but you were also slightly annoyed by his nighttime antics. You continued to wander through the house until the sound of what seemed to be the crinkling of a plastic material caught your attention. It came from the bathroom. From the hallway, you could see the door slightly ajar with the lights off. Then there came a rustling noise, followed by a strange slurping noise. Instantly, your face scrunched into confusion and a bit of alarm.
“What is he doing?” You took a tentative step towards the bathroom door. When you were no more than a step away from it, you pushed the door open and flicked the light switch on. What you saw made your stomach drop, and your frustration shot through the roof. You had found Remmick… or more appropriately, caught him.
“You nasty little freak.”
Remmick was hunched over the little bin in the bathroom. Its plastic entrails had been ripped open, and Remmick was surrounded by what seemed to be all the bloody pads you’d used in the last five days of your cycle; most of them had been drained and licked clean.
Your eyes widened in disgust and shock. He currently had a pad in his mouth that he was sucking on. The second he saw you, he took it out of his mouth and, without any shame, he smiled.
not sure if uve done this before, but can I plz request an nsfw alphabet or fluff alphabet for travis bickle?? thx 😸
Travis Bickle NSFW Alphabet
NSFW ALPHABET for our boy TRAVIS BICKLE. Hope y’all freaks enjoy!
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
Travis’s aftercare is very poor. He’ll often forget that you’re there after your lovemaking. His body becomes still and rigid. A subtle tightness in his chest grips him. It takes a while for him to come down from the high, but even afterwards, he hesitates to look at you. He’s always struggled with looking you in the eyes after such an act; however, he’ll always trace your thumb with his.
B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
The body part of yours that Travis favours the most is your hair. He loves to touch it, he loves to smell it. He collects whatever strands he can. He’s amassed quite the collection.
Your favourite body part is his eyes. You love the intensity.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
Travis is quite messy with his cum. If he’s not wearing a condom, he’ll sloppily pull out and sometimes coat your thigh or stomach. There are times he barely misses your pussy, so you don’t take a lot of chances with birth control and protection.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
Before the two of you had officially started dating and getting intimate, he’d go to porno theatres and look for actresses who bore a resemblance to you. He’d imagine it was you on the screen and jerk off furiously to it.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Travis has very limited experience; he wasn’t a virgin before meeting you, on account of losing his virginity to a sex worker, something he’s both ashamed of but oddly proud of. Other than that, his only lover had been his left hand.
F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)
Travis loves cowgirl, for one, he loves watching you bounce on it crazy style while your tits fly wildly. He loves the feeling of your cunt strangling his cock. He also loves the position because you’re doing all of the work.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Travis is not goofy at all, at least at the beginning of your relationship. Truth be told, he’d die if you laughed during sex. He’d see it as a slight against his manhood and masculinity, a clear sign that he was inadequate, a belief he’s always secretly held.
However, as your relationship progresses, as your bond grows stronger, and as he grows to trust you more, he’ll have a goofy moment here or there, if you queef or if his cock randomly slips out.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
Travis’s pubic hair is dark, like the hair on his head. It's much curlier and very thick. He doesn’t shave often, if not at all.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Travis can behave in many different ways during sex; it really depends on his mood and who initiates. If he initiates, he’s unsure of himself and nervous, but he wants to appear confident, like he knows what he’s doing. His facade is rarely ever convincing, but you appreciate the effort. Travis touches you softly, he reassures you and asks what you want most of the time. He tries to please you as best as he can, but in an effort to do so, he forgets that sex is inherently about connection, and it feels like he’s going through the motions.
If you initiate, he’s excited and more relaxed. The intimacy will feel more real; he feels as if you want it more this way. That you truly want him.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
He jerks off a lot when you’re not around, to the point of erectile dysfunction.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
He has a mommy kink….
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
His dirty, grimy apartment. It’s where he feels safest and most comfortable.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Travis is motivated by odd things. Seeing non sexual parts of your body really gets him going, like your elbow or knee caps. He’s rock hard instantly.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
He won’t indulge in any cuckholding! That is a definite no! He is already an insecure and psychologically disturbed man hooked on porn; his masculinity is hanging by a thread. Watching the woman he loves getting railed by another man, or the mere thought of it, would break him.
He’s also not into rape kinks or CNC; he’s seen too much during those late nights while driving through the unsavoury parts of New York.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Travis likes to receive, since he’s not very good at pleasing you with his tongue. He’s not as skilled as you are. Usually, he’ll sit back, fingers either in your hair or clasped over his mouth while you suck him off. He’ll grunt or whine while his hips buck furiously.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
He can be either. He can be fast, rough, and often miscalculate a stroke. Or he is slow, and what he thinks is sensual, which ends up being an awkward, delayed humping motion. Either way, he’s cumming after 90 seconds.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Every time you have sex with Travis is a quickie…
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Travis is very vanilla, surprisingly. He may be a gooner who has seen a lot of porn, but he isn’t confident enough to try and replicate what he’s seen on the screen. He also doesn’t want to mix the fantasy of porn with his relationship with you or view you the same way he views women in the pornos. [The Madonna whore complex is strong in this one]
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
You’ll be lucky if you get more than one round a night.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
Travis is hesitant to use toys, but he will for your sake. He loves watching your face contort in pleasure, he loves how your nose wrinkles up cutely, and your toes inevitably curl. So, if he has to use a vibrator to see such a lovely sight, he’s more than happy.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Travis would never intentionally tease, [key word intentionally] unfortunately, he’s been teasing you with his weak stroke game for most of your relationship.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
At first, he was very scared to let his voice out during such an intimate moment. He would bite his lip and hide his groans behind the soft grind of his teeth, but he whimpers, moans, and groans loudly.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
Travis wore your thong once.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
Thick. 6.5 inches hard, 4 inches when soft. Uncircumcised pale cock, with a pink tip. Heavy balls shrouded with hair.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
High in the afternoon, low in the night due to long shifts driving around New York, and moderate in the morning.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
He won’t sleep until you fall asleep. He’ll wait for you to be comfortably nestled in his arms; even then, he’ll stay up, watching you sleep.
