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Many relationships would be a lot healthier if we romanticized honest, open and direct communication instead of idealizing the idea of a partner who's intuitively in tune with your every need. You don't need someone who can read your mind, you just need someone who's willing to listen when you speak.
Stavo su twitter cercando post di inglesi incazzatissimi e niente ho trovato questo post di una donna che offriva ospitalità a qualsiasi vittima di abuso da parte dei propri partner after partita. E come lei centinaia di altre donne. So che può essere off-topic ma credo che sia importante condividere.
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And if you’ll look this way, gentle viewers, here we have a wild Dorkus Magnificus, native to Southeastern Europe (specifically, Romania). Oh! What a treat! He’s blessing us with a bit of his mating ritual! See how he balances upon one leg, arms akimbo, face carefully composed so as not to let his audience read his emotions? One can never tell what a creature such as this might be thinking at this moment. One might speculate, however, that the Dorkus Magnificus is likely thinking, “Oh, fuck, fuck, don’t tip over, don’t - fuuuuu- there we go, I got it, nobody knows I almost fell because I am. Smooth. As. Fuck.” (As we all know, this particular genus of Dorkus Magnificus is in possession of what is colloquially known as a “potty mouth”. This lends a bit of an edge to what is a remarkably charming species prone to shyness and awkwardness. See also: Dorkus Magnificus of North America, sometimes called, “Chris Evans.”)
Even upon entering maturity, the Dorkus Magnificus still suffers unfortunate setbacks.
However, fear not, gentle viewers, for this superb being will stay true to his course. Once full maturity is reached, this proud male of the species puts on a daring and delightful display of dexterity. He exemplifies the ideal male courtship presentation with this ritualized jitterbug dance. Look at him go! Don’t worry, viewers. He’ll get better with each try!
Once his mating ritual has been perfected and full maturation as been reached, the male often displays a bright, showy plumage in an attempt to draw the attention of all available females.
It is at this crucial moment in his mating cycle that the Dorkus Magnificus enlists other males to aid him in his search for the perfect partner. They do so with enthusiasm, for the gains of the Dorkus are the gains of the entire flock.
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just a reminder that when england win domestic abuse rates go up by 26% and by 38% if they lose. im thinking of all the women no matter what happens tonight. here’s a few helplines for anybody who needs them!
“You don’t have to be nervous, princess.” Bucky’s voice is far steadier than you feel. You know what you want, what you’ve wanted ever since that first dance at his father’s New Years party.
But you’re afraid to ask.
Good girls don’t ask—that’s what your prudish mother says. Live a little! is what your best friend Hillary says. You don’t know which is right—both? Neither? But you do know that nothing has been able to alleviate the throb between your thighs since he held you close, since his lips brushed the shell of your ear as he promised he would make you his one day.
“You’re gonna be Mrs. James Buchanan Barnes, you know that, right sweetheart?” he’d said, and your breath had hitched in your throat. “I got the keys to the kingdom already in my hand, and you’re gonna be a mighty fine Queen.” you’ve seen him every day since.
“I—” nervousness silences you, and you look down, embarrassed. You’re not stupid, you know what’s happening to you—you just don’t know why you can’t think when he’s around, when his hands are on you. It doesn’t make sense that the ache you feel inside should translate to this.
“It’s okay, baby. I know you’re a little jumpy. We’ll go real slow.” his hands are hot on your back through the thin cotton of your sundress. He tugs you down to his lap, and you look around the gazebo nervously.
“B-but Bucky, someone might see—!” you whisper, and he utters a soft shhh that you almost lose to the sound of the pouring rain. The gazebo is far enough into the garden that the house became blurry through the sheets of water, but still close enough to make you nervous.
“Nobody’s gonna see, baby. Everybody’s inside.” he helps you straddle his lap. “Just relax and let me take care of you before your goddamn handler comes back.” he laves a soft kiss to the side of your throat and you giggle at the mention of your sister, who’s kept much closer faith to your mother’s teachings—with a miserable marriage to show for it. Your giggle transforms itself quickly into a moan as his teeth rasp along the side of your throat.
“Oh.”
He grins against your skin, and you feel his thigh move up, pressing hard against the already damp seam of your panties. “So warm,” he murmurs, his hands moving reverently up and down your sides. He does it again, and the embers of desire that have never really seemed to fade blaze brighter. A moan slips from your lips, and he grinds again.
“That’s it, baby. Feels good, right?” his voice is gentle. You don’t feel scared, like you thought you would. You’re anxious you’re going to embarrass yourself, scared you’ll look like even more of a sheltered rich girl, but… you’re not scared of him. You manage a nod.
“Y-yes.”
“Tell me.”
Your face burns. “I—I feel wet,” you mutter, pressing your face into his dress shirt. You know you’ll be leaving telltale makeup smears all over the crisp white fabric, but you can’t bear to look him in the eye. “And I w-want m-more,” you admit, and he chuckles in response.
“My sweet, greedy girl,” he mutters, guiding your hips with his hands until you get the rhythm down yourself. “This is what you’re gonna get tonight.” your panties are stuck fast to your soaked folds, and your throbbing clit rubs against the fabric of his dress pants through them easily. “You’re gonna soak my thigh, and then when you’re ready, I’m gonna fill that tight pussy up with my cock.”
“Bucky!” the harsh exhale of breath is both a reprimand and a plea, and he grins at you, his steely eyes dark and hungry.
“And you’re gonna say my name just like that when I do it.”
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