Monster Cock

In the common room of Stark Tower:

Tony: *claps his hands and stands up from the sofa* Alright peeps! Travel plans for today

Cap: *exasperated* Tony... we are still in Lockd...

Tony: SHUSH! Travel plans for today. To the windoooow *slides over* to the waaaall *slides again* then I might go down the haaall... *catwalks away*

Loki: *stares*

You: I think Tony lost it...

Loki: I don't know...I honestly am thinking about something similar.

You: ...

Loki: *grins*

Cap: Oh no. Mischievous lookin...

Loki: Shhh shhh shhh! Travel plans for today *moves in front of you*

You: *looking into his eyes*

Loki: From the sofa to a shed *galantly bows to take your hand into his own* Now I take you to my bed.. *winks and magics the both of you away*

Banner: *stares with a can of whipped cream in hand still spraying his waffles *

Loki: *reappearing already shirtless* Let me take this.. *disappears again*

Banner: Dammit....

I was going to sleep

I just decided to check tumblr before I would do that, no need to attack me this hard

me at 8pm: you know im kind of tired maybe i’ll actually get to bed at a reasonable hour like 10 or 11 or something

me at 2 am:

This was so good!!! I need more

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

summary: the world crumbled before you could experience the touch of another. Joel does his best to keep you innocent for as long as he can.

pairing: Jackson!Joel Miller x afab virgin!reader.

warnings: 18+ mdni. established, undefined relationship. PUSSY RUBBING. fluids galore. just the tip. perv!joel. unspecified age gap. fingering. dirty talk. overstimulation. male masturbation. FEELS. Joel is a conflicted old man. reader is able bodied. no Ellie. w.c. 2.9k

an: i watched a porn clip and instantly went rabid thinking about jackson!joel.

-> follow up to a glimpse of heaven but it's not necessary to read the first part.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐬 ⋅ 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

Like most of Jackson, the house you share with Joel is quiet and calm when night falls. Rain softly patters against the window as you lie in bed, wide awake. Another night of fruitless sleep under your belt.

You huff irritatedly, your hand collapsing against the mattress as you bitterly kick your bedspread onto the floor. Your oversized shirt clings to your body, your skin dewy from the exertion, and you're close to crying. Your limbs are wrought and overworked after hours of touching yourself with no orgasm to show for it.

Your hand won't cut it; it isn't enough. It can't reach all those sensitive spots that make you float among the stars.

Warmth pools in your abdomen as you think of one that's the perfect size.

A hazy hue of yellow light pours under your bedroom door as it spills from the room across the hall.

Joel.

It takes a long time to get to know someone, but they tend to meld with your soul once you do in one way or another.

From the start, Joel was intimidating. He was so frayed around the edges that you were afraid he'd completely unravel in the middle of your journey. He didn't seem to care for your company as the two of you traveled across the plains to Jackson, hesitation poisoning every fiber of your being, but you kept on with the strange man since no one else was willing to trek across the states. You desperately needed a new life, a fresh start away from the Boston QZ, and Jackson sounded like the perfect spot.

Over time, Joel opened up, conversing little by little as you drove for miles across the now barren US. Usually, after you had a close call with raiders or the lone gunman, he'd go silent, the weight of protecting someone other than himself sinking further into his soul, consuming that much further.

What you never expected was for him to be your first touch.

Sweltering tension slowly grew like a wildfire. Catching each other's curious stares, lingering fingers, and salacious banter until, one night, he slid a cautious hand into your panties. He claimed your untouched sex when you confessed over a roaring fire and a bottle of whiskey that you'd never been with another. His weathered hands were gentle as he sunk his fingers into your core, watching with rabid fascination as you came for the first time, gasping from his touch.

The following day, as he drove you across the interstate with the sun slowly rising, he made sure you knew that wouldn't happen again. "I'm much too old. Don't wanna waste your time with a mean ol' grump like me."

You didn't bring it up again.

One month after settling into Jackson, picking bedrooms, and deciding who would do which chores, Joel had his first taste of you.

It wasn't supposed to happen.

You chewed your dinner slowly in the modestly sized dining room across from Joel. You were so lost in thought that he was concerned enough to ask what was wrong.

"What does it mean when a man eats you out?" you naively pondered, causing him to choke on his veggies.

Joel had never looked so red before as he took a long drink of whiskey. You instantly apologized, explaining that you overheard a group of women conversing while you tended the communal garden.

He raised a hand, curbing your frantic rambles. "S'ok. Figured you'd be learnin' things. Just didn' think I'd be the one you'd ask."

"But I trust you."

His jaw twitched at your words.  

Later that night, Joel fell to his knees at the edge of your bed and tossed your legs over his broad shoulders. "Never tasted a pussy so sweet," he mumbled against your glistening folds as you ran your fingers through his graying curls. You came multiple times on his tongue, grinding his whiskered jaw while he hungrily lapped at your soaked folds like he was dying of thirst.

You didn't bring it up again.

It's warmer in Jackson now. The sun hangs longer in the sky. Snow boots and jackets are stowed away until the next freeze.

You slink from the warmth of your bed and pad sockless across the hall. Lightening flickers brightly under the starry sky. The night rain storm slowly whirls through the city, soaking everything in its path.

Joel's door is open. A soft smile tugs at your lips; it's his way of saying he's still up. He keeps it ajar while he reads before rolling onto his side and bidding goodnight to the world.

Three soft knocks alert Joel from the guitar-building manual he's currently reading. Dread clouds his mind for a moment, wondering why you'd be knocking on his door at this time of night, but he takes a deep breath and grounds himself in the softness of his bed.

"Yeah?" he calls out. His tone is rough around the edges after a long day on patrol.

You poke your head around the door with a timid smirk. He looks at you over his reading glasses before marking his spot and laying his book on the side table.

You don't say anything as you stride into his room. He notices your oversized shirt swaying at your knees before you climb into his bed and curl against his side like a cat. 

He drapes an arm around your shoulder, unconsciously pulling you closer.

"'Nother bad dream?" he questions with a low rumble.

You shake your head. "Can't sleep."

You nuzzle your face into the crook of his shoulder and feel him nod, understanding the endless struggle for a night of peaceful sleep. It's improved since moving to Jackson, but the dreams never end.

Silence fills the bedroom except for the soft pitter-patter of rain against the roof. Joel leans against the headboard, sighs through his nose, and lets his thoughts drift. He's content to sit with you in his arms for as long as possible, even if that makes him selfish.

He wonders if you hope to find someone to settle down with, someone less ridged and mentally maimed, someone less him.

The thought drives a stake through his heart.

He'd be crazy to say he didn't love being around you. Your laugh and lopsided smile took the first brick out of his impenetrable fortress when you spied a deer and her calf frolicking in an open field in Kansas. From then on, it became easier for him to let his walls down.

When you came to him with those big doe eyes and urges about wanting to know what it's like to be touched and desired, he gave in each time despite his reasoning.

He would masturbate each time after getting his hands on you, also thinking about the early days when he'd catch glimpses of you changing or the time he first saw you naked while showering at the YMCA. 

He's still trying to figure out what to make of you. Friends? Lovers? He certainly didn't mean to fall head over heels. Love had no place in his heart, but he'd be a fool to say he wasn't extremely fond of you.

"Can you make me feel good again?" your lithe voice broke the silence.

Joel stops breathing. Your question doused him like a cold bucket of water. He knew this would come back and haunt him.

His hand curls tight around your shoulder as he wrestles with the devil on his shoulder. "Told ya we shouldn't keep doin' this, Sweetheart," he reasons, trying not to break your heart.

"But I can't make myself feel as good as when you've done it. I've tried!" You whine, burying your face into his chest.

"S'not that I don't wanna," he admits, soothing your soft cries. "S'just, you're too precious to do that wit' someone like me."

You lift your head and brazenly brush your lips against the exposed skin of his collarbone, earning a low groan as he curls a large hand around the back of your neck. He tugs you away from his skin, your lips still forming a tight 'O', and pins you with a stern gaze.

"Joel, it hurts." Your watery eyes and trembling bottom lip are his downfall.

"Lay back, Sweetheart, and spread your legs," he orders with a husky tone.

You don't make a noise; too afraid he'll stop if you do. Your cunt beats against the gusset of your panties as you lay on your back, spreading and bending both legs at the knee, just like he taught you.

A warm breath fans down your face as he shifts down your body before kneeling between your legs and tracing teasing fingers over your covered mound. His nails lightly scratch along the worn cotton, making you suck in a frantic breath. He slips a practiced hand beneath the crotch of your panties and deftly explores your folds, gently rubbing small circles on your clit after wetting his fingers with the arousal that's pouring from your cunt.

"Oh, she's achin' real bad, huh?" he groans as your opening clenches beneath his wandering touch.

"Joel, please, I need-" You gasp, hips wantonly grinding against his hand, desperate for any type of friction.

The muscles in his jaw ache. It's only natural you'd be wanting more.

Before he thinks twice, Joel draws his cock out from his sweatpants. Your stomach cramps at the sight as it smacks against his belly; he's massive.

His cock hangs heavy between his thighs like a solid, dangerous threat. It weeps from the dusky tip, shiny liquid dripping from the crown as he squeezes his hand around the girthy base peppered with dark gray, wiry hair.

"Got somethin' that'll make you feel good, sweet girl." he grits, tapping his cock against the covered crux of your pussy. It thwaps devastatingly against your clit, forcing a gasp from your lips as mind-numbing pleasure races up your spine and leaves you staring dumbly up at him.

"S'that what you need? Need my cock to keep 'er from achin so bad'?" his cock is searing as it lies in wait atop your panty-clad mound. You swear you can feel his blood pumping steadily into his shaft.

He cautiously thrusts his hips, sliding his length along your cotton-covered mound. Your slick arousal seeps thru the material, wetting the thin cotton and creating a sensuous touch as he glides along your cunt.

He shoves your shirt up over your chest, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. He licks his lips, "Such'a beauty."

Your cheeks flame at his words. Having such a man say things about you makes you lightheaded.

Joel groans as your panties practically are now see-through from your combined fluids staining the cotton, "Oh, baby." You whine at his pet name. "I got ya. Keep those legs open, just like I taught ya. S'good girl."

He keeps a steady pace, sawing back and forth over your extremely soaked mound. Your puffy pussy lips stick to the soaked cotton, leaving nothing to Joel's imagination. He glides easily along your slit, your juices smoothing his path until your arching your back and chanting his name like a prayer.

Watching you orgasm under his touch is enough to drive him wild. He throws all sense of logic out the window. He's okay with being selfish again.

"Let's get these off, yeah." He hooks two fingers under the elastic and slides your panties off before his words register in your euphoric haze. "Feel even better without 'em."

He swallows hard at the sight laid out before him. The sheets splay and curve around your naked body, making you look like an ethereal being sent to test his limits.

"Gonna give 'er a kiss, Sweetheart," his deep timbre vibrates your body as he draws close and touches the bulbous tip of his cock to your exposed folds. Blood rushes to your cunt instantly, bordering on the edge of pain. You cry out from the intense contact, and arousal slips freely down your crack as he traces his cockhead up and down your soaked slit.

"How's she feel?" He anchors his head, looking down at you from under his lashes.

"S'nice," you half whisper, half moan. The wanton bliss slowly consumes you the more he rubs against your sticky folds, keeping a hand locked around his girthy base, his crown glistening with your combined arousal.

Your eyes tear open, back arching like a bow, when he cants his hips and taps his cock square in the center of your cunt.

"M'not gonna fuck you, sweet girl, wanna keep you whole," he declares, holding true to his word despite the overwhelming need to claim you.

He can't be the one to sully you. "Ain' much left'a this world that's as sweet n' pure as you."

Your core quivers as his dusky, throbbing crown glides along your glistening seam. He tentatively explores uncharted areas, brows furrowed with concentration, fighting with inner demons who want to claim, corrupt, and mold you for only his touch.

His name leaves your lips with a mess of desperate, frustrated moans, "Please, Joel."

He snaps out of his haze. He's done almost everything he can to keep you safe and protected in this new way of life. He'll be damned if he doesn't grant you anything you ask for.

"S'hurtin' somethin' fierce, huh?" He grunts, angling his hips until his cock lines up with your fluttering hole. "Bet she needs somethin' big'er than fingers to ease 'er throbbin'."

His cock catches on your opening, forcing a hiss through his clenched teeth. As tight as you are, he can't stop from pushing into your warmth. He blocks out any sense of reasoning that's shouting from the back of his mind as he slowly nudges his cock into your weeping, inviting hole.

Joel goes brain-dumb momentarily, watching in immoral awe as your core ever so slowly swallows his fat tip and breaches your quivering hole, forcing a raspy whine from your throat.

So warm, safe, and wet.

Joel's never felt anything like you. He wants to bury himself, slide his cock as deep as he can, claim every inch, endlessly fill you with his cum, and keep you only for him.

You frantically reach for him, hands clutching the air as he rubs a callous thumb over your clit while keeping a steady hold on the base of his cock.

"S'all she's gonna get," he states, returning to his senses and hissing when your cunt tightens. "S'just the tip."

A soft begging whine bubbles from your lips as you extend your arms, needing something solid to hold before latching onto his wrists.

Your hips move on their own, desperate to feel his length completely shunted in your velvet warmth, but brute hands envelop your hips and pin them to the bed.

He shakes his head, salt and pepper curls fraying across his forehead. "Don' be greedy now." He tuts, narrowing his gaze down at you.

A garbled mess of nonsense tumbles from your lips as your fingernails dig into his muscular, hairy forearms.

"I know. S'big, huh?" He lands a solemn thumb on your clit, rubbing tender circles around the tiny bud. "Stay wit' me, sweet girl. Wanna feel you come on my cock."

Your mind spins. It's all too much, and yet, not enough. Your head tosses from side to side, and you're frantic to survive, breathing hard and fast, waiting for the drop to come and, at the same time, never wanting it to come.

"Don't I deserve it? Keepin' you safe all this time." Joel muses, stroking his cock in time with his teasing thumb. His eyes never leave where he's splitting you open. He's barely penetrating you, but it's enough to know if he had, you'd be struggling to take him.

"Come on, Sweetheart. Let go f'me," he urges, his touch growing faster. Severe, tightly drawn circles tease you closer to the edge.

Your stomach flips. A heaviness settles in your throat, your heart lodging in the tight confines, your blood pumping faster and faster. A lithe whine slithers free, escaping into the dimly lit room and burrows into Joel's mind.

His jaw clenches, and a dark growl rumbles from his chest, "Thatta' girl. Make'a fuckin' mess'a me."

Your dripping hole quivers and throbs around his swollen tip as you come with a silent scream, body locking taut, trying its best to engulf his length entirely.

Joel curses, jerking his length with long, steady tugs and rubbing his weeping, cream-covered tip around your soaked folds before his spine goes straight, and he yanks his cock from your core, curling in on himself and spilling his seed all over your belly with a deep, gravelly moan.

You sag into his sheets, spent with a shiny thin layer of dew and white ropes of spend painted across your abdomen.

"Shit." Joel curses, breathing heavily as he holds himself by his hands, which press into the mattress by your head, keeping you locked beneath him.

You hold his studious gaze. His dark eyes ruminate, tinged with mood, as his gaze drills down into your very core, threatening to demolish your soul. You resign that this was nothing special. Just another night you won't talk about again.  

Joel eases off of you with a grunt, his bones aching from the tension despite the brief, pleasurable relief, and tucks his cock back away into his sweatpants. He shuffles to the bathroom momentarily before returning with a damp washcloth.

He wipes the cloth over your belly and between your thighs, cleaning the combined arousal from your skin before chucking the rag into the hamper with a sigh.

"I know," you mutter, grimacing as you roll onto your side and sit up, tugging your shirt down. "I won't mention it again."

A solid, warm hand on your shoulder stops your retreat. "Stay," Joel whispers with soft, yearning eyes. "I wan' you to stay, sweet girl."

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated! follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

Charities/organisations to avoid:

PETA: They’d rather spend their money on publicity campaigns than on the animals in their care. PETA killed 73.8% of the animals in their care in 2015 (x)

FCKH8: Is a for-profit company that exploits oppressed groups for money. They’re also wildly uninformed, and spread misogyny, cissexism and bi/panphobia, as well as stealing their posts/designs (x)

Autism Speaks: They spend most of their money on researching a way to eliminate autism, heighten the stigma against autism and don’t have a single autistic person on their board (x)

Please support other, better charities, and feel free to add any others you can think of to this.

Dark times all around but there are still people out there who love you

Do not hurt yourself, do not hurt others, get help, talk to someone, anyone. Humanity has survived before and we can do it now if we all just support each other. My country and my people let me down and endangered my life but there’s nothing I or anyone else can do about that so let’s try to spread the love that is so clearly lacking.

I wouldn't mind help conditioning his beard

Conditioner

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word count: ~500

Warnings: Smut! Explicit sexual content, oral- woman receiving, dirty talk, explicit language (must be 18+)

Summary: You help your boyfriend with beard care and it leads to much more!

Continuar a ler

Pancakes & Promises

Pairing: Jake Jensen x Reader Word Count: 794 Summary: You both want breakfast, but neither of you want to cook it, it’s only a matter of time before one of you cave. Warnings: Sexual themes/talk, but no smut.

A/N: I figured we could all use a dose of Jake Jensen fluff right about now ❤️ I used this prompt: one of us has to get out of bed to make pancakes and it’s not going to be me ok just go and bring me nourishment. Enjoy, my pretties!

You were dozing comfortably, in that limbo right between awareness and sleep, when Jake’s low rumble of a voice roused you.

“As much as I love cuddling in bed with you, gorgeous, I’m hungry.”

Lips quirking at the corners, you nuzzled closer to his naked chest. “Really? I feel like the way you oh so enthusiastically woke me up could be considered a hearty meal, no?”

Jake’s chest shook with laughter, jostling you against him. “As delicious as that wakeup call was, I’m still a growing boy, ya know?” His fingers trailed up your naked back, making you shiver.

Sighing, you blinked your sleepy eyes open, shifting until your hands pillowed Jake’s chest and your chin rested on top of them. You gazed up at him, unimpressed with his dilemma. “Well I’m certainly not stopping you from making breakfast.”

Continuar a ler

Wtf, this is disgusting and completely unnecessary. Let the animals be, can’t we learn that hunting for sports is not something that is okay PRINCIPALLY when with animals that need to be protected?

Hundreds of lynx to be hunted in Sweden following biggest ever wolf cull

Conservationists condemn latest cull as ‘trophy hunting’, while hunters admit it is ‘about the excitement’

Sweden has issued licences to hunters to kill a total of 201 lynx, weeks after dozens of wolves were killed in the country’s biggest wolf cull in modern times.

The number of licences to kill lynx throughout March, issued by Sweden’s country administrations, is more than double the number in recent years.

The planned cull is out of all proportion to any danger to livestock or people, say wildlife conservationists and activists, who are asking the EU to take action against Sweden for breaching environmental law.

“This is a trophy hunt, just like going to Africa to hunt lions,” said Magnus Orrebrant, the head of Svenska Rovdjursföreningen, an animal rights advocacy group that has started a petition calling for the trophy hunting of lynx to be stopped. “Hundreds of foreign hunters come to Sweden for lynx hunting because they think it is exciting.”

Conservationists warned last month that the lynx population in Europe could collapse unless immediate efforts are made to protect the animals. Tests on the remaining cats in France show that their genetic diversity is so low they will become locally extinct within the next 30 years without intervention.

There are around 1,450 lynx spread across Sweden, about 300 fewer than 10 years ago. Naturvårdsverket, the Swedish environmental protection agency, argues that the country needs only 870 animals to maintain a healthy population.

The Swedish hunters’ association, Svenska Jägareförbundet, admits the lynx do not pose a danger to humans. Henrik Falk, an adviser to the association, told the Guardian: “The hunt is absolutely not linked to any danger to humans. Neither is wolf hunting – there are no documented cases of wolves attacking humans in Swedish modern times.

“The lynx hunt is more about the excitement, and for some hunters, of course, the skin is the motivation.”

Lynx, like most other game animals in Sweden, are hunted using dogs. The EU Habitats Directive specifies that hunting may be allowed either to prevent damage to livestock or in the interests of public safety.

It is “strongly questionable” that either of these conditions applies to lynx in Sweden, said Benny Gäfwert, a predator expert at the World Wide Fund for Nature (WWF). “We do not think the hunters can invoke these exceptions, and we have notified the EU Commission,” Gäfwert said.

“That hunting occurs, we do not, in itself, have a problem with, but the extent to which it occurs in relation to the low damage caused by the lynx is unwarranted.”

The WWF is also challenging Sweden’s explanation for its ongoing wolf cull, Gäfwert said.

Historically, lynx have ranged across Eurasia but have come under intense pressure in many countries from habitat loss, inbreeding, poaching and traffic collisions. In Britain, calls to reintroduce lynx to the wild were rejected last month by the environment minister, Thérèse Coffey.

Conservationists point to the role of lynx in controlling Sweden’s large population of deer, moose and boar.

The lynx hunt in Sweden is taking place during the mating season when their fur is thickest, making it particularly attractive to hunters, said Marie Stegard Lind of anti-hunting group Jaktkritikerna. “This is completely unnecessary – a pure trophy hunt,” she said.

Jaskier did not shiw his ankles?! 😲😲 The audacity, the indecorum!!

Geralt trying to be respectful but there's only so much a man can take

People call Geralt old fashioned, as if just because he’s nearly a century old he doesn’t understand modern sensibilities. But that’s not it. He understands perfectly well that the world changes, but he still thinks there’s some value in a certain sense of decorum.

Jaskier, however, has no decorum whatsoever.

As if it wasn’t bad enough that he goes around with his doublet undone, showing off a lacy undershirt beneath – because that’s the fashion now, apparently, and young people these days have no problem with that sort of thing – there are even times when he removes his doublet entirely, leaving Geralt to deal with a lot of billowy shirtsleeves and uncomfortably transparent fabric.

It’s hard not to look, okay, when there’s all of… that on display. (Broad shoulders, the firm swell of his chest muscles, a tangling of dark hair that you want to dig you fingers into -)

It’s even worse when Jaskier choose to roll his sleeves up past his elbows (revealing the soft, pale skin of his forearms which aches to be kissed). Worse still when Jaskier continues to gesture wildly as he talks, hands flicking back and forth in Geralt’s field of view, constantly flitting distractions of skin and joints and blue veins barely visible.

Geralt steels himself. It’s just Jaskier being Jaskier. It doesn’t mean anything. He ought to be ashamed of his… blatant ogling. It’s unbecoming of a man his age.

“… Geralt? are you listening?” Jaskier snaps his fingers in front of Geralt’s face and his attention is caught by the delicate lines of his wrist, the scent of lavender emanating from his pulse point, the faint, faint sound of blood throbbing beneath the skin.

He schools his face into a carefully neutral frown. “Hmm,” he says, hoping that will induce Jaskier to drop it.

Jaskier narrows his eyes but says nothing, soon distracted by throwing himself onto the room’s single bed. “My feet are killing me,” he complains, one hand pressed to his forehead dramatically. “And it’s all your fault for making me walk everywhere.”

Geralt averts his eyes as Jaskier removes his boots and peels off his socks, damn him. Some things were not meant to be done in company.

Jaskier thrusts one foot toward Geralt and wiggles his toes. “Give me a foot rub?” he says, as if that was something you casually asked your friends to do.

Geralt makes the mistake of glancing over and is greeted by not only the elegant arch of his foot, but also a shapely, fine-boned ankle and the soft, inviting swell of a calf.

He feels light headed. His heart is pounding. This is beyond the pale, even for Jaskier. His ankle is right there. It’s indecent. It’s scandalous. It’s downright shameful.

Geralt commits the sight to memory for… later consideration.

“Come on,” Jaskier wheedles. “Help a fellow traveller out. I’ll call for a bath and we can share the tub while you massage my toes.”

The… the audacity. The impropriety. The blood is roaring in his ears. He thinks he might faint.

He sets his face into his most intimidating grimace and growls, “Fuck off, bard.”

Jaskier just laughs, high and light. “Oh, Geralt, you really are too much fun.”

Geralt pouts. He doesn’t see what’s so damn funny.