#Can’t wait to get into all of that

[shepscapades]

[dbhc flavored] Hermit A Day May ‘25, Day 25: Beefers!!

The left doodle technically takes place during the Empires Crossover, but it’s not happening in the crossover itself so I didn’t label it as such… oh xBcrafted s9 Freakout you will always be famous to me…

[never-quite-buried]

Nope now it’s at the point that i’m shocked that people off tt don’t know what’s going down. I have no reach but i’ll sum it up anyway.

SCOTUS is hearing on the constitutionality of the ban as tiktok and creators are arguing that it is a violation of our first amendment rights to free speech, freedom of the press and freedom to assemble.

SCOTUS: tiktok bad, big security concern because china bad!

Tiktok lawyers: if china is such a concern why are you singling us out? Why not SHEIN or temu which collect far more information and are less transparent with their users?

SCOTUS (out loud): well you see we don’t like how users are communicating with each other, it’s making them more anti-american and china could disseminate pro china propaganda (get it? They literally said they do not like how we Speak or how we Assemble. Independent journalists reach their audience on tt meaning they have Press they want to suppress)

Tiktok users: this is fucking bullshit i don’t want to lose this community what should we do? We don’t want to go to meta or x because they both lobbied congress to ban tiktok (free market capitalism amirite? Paying off your local congressmen to suppress the competition is totally what the free market is about) but nothing else is like TikTok

A few users: what about xiaohongshu? It’s the Chinese version of tiktok (not quite, douyin is the chinese tiktok but it’s primarily for younger users so xiaohongshu was chosen)

16 hours later:

Tiktok as a community has chosen to collectively migrate TO a chinese owned app that is purely in Chinese out of utter spite and contempt for meta/x and the gov that is backing them.

My fyp is a mix of “i would rather mail memes to my friends than ever return to instagram reels” and “i will xerox my data to xi jinping myself i do not care i share my ss# with 5 other people anyway” and “im just getting ready for my day with my chinese made coffee maker and my Chinese made blowdryer and my chinese made clothing and listening to a podcast on my chinese made phone and get in my car running on chinese manufactured microchips but logging into a chinese social media? Too much for our gov!” etc.

So the government was scared that tiktok was creating a sense of class consciousness and tried to kill it but by doing so they sent us all to xiaohongshu. And now? Oh it’s adorable seeing this gov-manufactured divide be crossed in such a way.

This is adorable and so not what they were expecting. Im sure they were expecting a reluctant return to reels and shorts to fill the void but tiktokers said fuck that, we will forge connections across the world. Who you tell me is my enemy i will make my friend. That’s pretty damn cool.

[chloesimaginationthings]

I’d give anything to see Mangle in the FNAF 2 movie

[elodieunderglass]

And one amang, an Iyrysch man,

Uppone his hoby swyftly ran…

WAIT HANG ON - slamming the brakes on drawing this stupid picture - do you nerds even KNOW the etymology of the word “hobby”? The thing you do for pleasure? The thing you have too many of? The thing you spend too much money on and share with your friends? The thing tumblr probably is to you? Those hobbies?

It comes from a now-kind-of-extinct breed of Irish pony-horse. It was called the Irish Hobby. Supposedly the hobby got its name from the Gaelic word obann, or swift. They definitely were. They’d obann your pants clean off.

Fast tough little bastards, built for rough terrain and renowned for their speed and stamina, hobby horses belonged to the Celts, and their highly annoying style of mounted warfare. but their conquerors liked hobby horses a lot, kept them, used them for themselves, and found them useful enough, despite the fact that they also had famously useful things like mounted knights or horse archers. A lightweight Irish warrior, mounted on a hobby horse, was called a hobelar.

Reportedly and in depictions, hobelars rode without stirrups. Or saddles. Or bridles. Or - well - this is all sounding very improbable, because the hobelars COULDNT have just been charging around basically bare-assed on naked ponies, screaming, and somehow in the process undoing the composure of actual mounted armoured knights. Knights who, I remind you, had stirrups. Stirrups are useful! It’s quite likely the hobelars had some gear. And clothes. and weapons. And the ponies probably had some tack - I am picturing a bellyband that you could at least hang a saddlebag on, and a neck rope for catching the bloody thing, even if not a saddle. But the overall impression, somehow created by people on darling little ponies, was apparently quite striking and fearful.

I mean. God Forbid People Have Hobbies.

Anyway after a while, whatever people became the British had eventually conquered all of the rough terrain that hobbies were best at, and horse archers just got sexier, and mounted knights became aristos, and all the bog and forest people had been subdued, so it was time to sunset the hobelars. but WAIT! Hobby horses are still tremendously fun and appealing! They’re so fast! and you can ride them without a saddle! Sure, they’re not up to the weight of a mounted knight, or indeed a lot of guys… but surely we can still find a use for a hobby or two? In the back garden? Somewhere?

At which point an English king decided to keep hobby horses just for fun. No military application. No further development of the technology. Not for fun. Just as expensive, pleasurable, pets. Just for the joy of the thing.

And that is how hobby (activity done purely for pleasure) comes from hobby horse (small horse) possibly from obann (swift.) they’re very interesting and you should look all this up for yourself! because it sure sounds like Elodie doing a bit, doesn’t it?

Today, Irish Hobbies are functionally nonexistent. References for drawing include the Kerry Bog Pony, the Connemara, and (I personally think) Dartmoors and Exmoors. They’re said to have lent their speed to the Irish Hunter/Sport Horse and from there to the Thoroughbred, but every damn horse in the world claims relation to the Thoroughbred, and they can’t be THAT thoroughly bred.

At any rate - you can never have enough hobbies. Just be glad that yours aren’t expensive beasts with minds of their own, eating their heads off in the pasture! …Unless they are. In which case, you’re part of a proud tradition.

[calitsnow]

{Click for better quality}

And a little Dante’s bonus reaction to this mess:

[breesperez139]

Dc x Dp Prompt #6

“I’m a twin”, Damian said one night. He could feel the narrowed eyes of his family drilling holes on his back in disbelief. Not that he could blame them. Damian had never so much as implied being raised with a companion, much less a sibling.

“I had a brother”. Damian paused to recollect himself. He had not said his brother’s name out loud in over 8 years.

“His name was… Danyal”. Damian hated the way his voice wavered, but he could not help it. Danyal was everything to him, his other half. Their heart beat as one and when one heart stopped beating, the other one died with it. At least until his family put his heart on metaphorical life support without ever realizing.

“Where is he now?” His father asked, voice filled with knowing grief and a hint of betrayal. It had in fact been 6 years since Damian first showed up on his doorstep.

“Up there”. All eyes shifted towards the specific star he was pointing to. “Right before he died, he promised me he’d guide me from the stars. Unfortunately, the stars are not visible in Gotham, so my brother is unable to be of much help unless I leave the city.”

“Your brother is Polaris, the North Star?” Tim questioned warily, most likely in attempts to not offend him. Damian was aware of how stupid it sounded, but Danyal had promised, and his brother never broke his promises.

“Yes. Danyal is with the stars now, just as he always wanted”

[thatlioninthecorner]

Opening up Tumblr today got me like:

Full on twst bomb 🤯 (I ain’t complaining tho)

I am LOVING Leona’s new sprite 👀👀👀 He keeps showing his forehead as of late, you know what that means

Still not exactly sure what’s going on in his dream, but OUGH does he look good 🤭

[jeanmoreaux]

can’t let go of laila’s “would it kill you to fuck someone who respects you?” because there is two sides to jeremy’s poor choices in my opinion. on the one hand, i think he’s pretty aware that the guys he picks are disrespectful assholes and picks them for that exact reason. we know that jeremy mostly avoids talking about his past. he even tends to lie about it or at least talk around it. so hooking up with people who don’t respect him works out great for him because the thing about disrespectful assholes is that they don’t care about emotional intimacy or getting to know him—there is safety in that kind of distance. and even if there is a rejection, it’s not a rejection of him, because they don’t really know him. but it’s still a way to experience a counterfeit kind of closeness. on the other hand, i also believe there’s this ugly small part of him that thinks this is the kind of love he deserves. the kind of love he was taught to think he deserves and learned from every barbed and disrespectful comment thrown his way by his family. amd now he keeps reaffirming this belief with every partner he choses who doesn’t care about him beyond what he has to offer in bed, who doesn’t check up on him unless they’re looking for a quick hookup, who roughens him up non-consensually.

so yeah, to jeremy fucking someone who respects him probably feels like handing them everything they’d need to kill him—because it would mean he’d have to open up and make himself vulnerable enough to invite a level of trust and intimacy and love into that type of relationship that could be ripped away or turn into digust, leaving him feeling more rejected and abandoned and isolated than he already does.

[luposlipaphobya]

Falling in love with an outer god

(Just wanted to imagine what it’d look like if Mel took a draconic form in front of Lazuli. I guess it’d be more voidy and nightmarish in game cause of the Fallen Aasimar of the Awful Deep thing, but let’s just say that Mel could also be related to a golden dragon who was also Pelor’s favorite so… 👀 I wanted to try a fairytale/medieval vibe here, kinda happy with how it turned out! Melisande belongs to @the-nothing-maker ❤️)

[crazymecjc]

happy birthday, goro 🎈

[violentdelightshavevioletends]

“Dain is just an imperfect 21-year-old kid who trusted his dad, and is a little over-protective telling his chronically ill friend to sit the fuck down.”

[cookiieduh]

.જ⁀➴ ♡ ꜱᴜɢᴀʀ ᴄᴏᴀᴛᴇᴅ.ᐟ⭑.ᐟ

ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ! ᴀ ʜᴏᴛ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ ᴍᴏᴅ? ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀ ᴄᴀᴛᴄʜ. ᴡᴇʟʟ… ᴅᴜʜ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ’ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴛᴄʜ. ᴀ ᴡᴇɪʀᴅᴏ ᴅᴀᴍɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ ɢʀᴀꜱꜱ. ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ꜰᴜᴄᴋꜱ ᴍᴇᴀɴ!

.pairing.ᐟ ɢᴏᴊᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ .cont.ᐟ MDNI, ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ ᴍᴏᴅ x ᴋɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴅʏɴᴀᴍɪᴄ (ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ‘ᴍᴇᴏᴡꜱ’), ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋ, ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ꜱᴘᴀɴᴋɪɴɢ, ᴄᴀᴛ ᴇᴀʀꜱ, ᴇɢɪʀʟ ꜱʜᴇɴᴀɴɪɢᴀɴꜱ, ᴇᴛᴄ… ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴅᴜᴍʙɪꜰɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ʜʏᴘᴇʀ-ꜰᴇᴍɪɴɪɴᴇ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴘᴏʀɴ ɴᴏ ᴘʟᴏᴛ, ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ, ᴘ ɪɴ ᴠ, ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ, ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ ᴄʀɪɴɢᴇ, ᴘᴇᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ‘ᴋɪᴛᴛʏ’, ‘ᴋɪᴛᴛᴇɴ’ ᴇᴛᴄ, ᴘʀᴀɪꜱᴇ, ᴏᴠᴇʀꜱᴛɪᴍ, ꜰʀᴇᴀᴋᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ʟᴏᴡᴋ .extra.ᐟ ᴡᴄ,, 2.8ᴋ,, ʙᴇᴇɴ ꜱɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅʀᴀꜰᴛꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ. ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ!

“oh, kitten,” gojo attempts to cajole with a desperation that borders pathetic, batting long white lashes at the webcam as you sit in pretty pixels across his screen.

“puh-leaseeee!”

and he’s been at this for half an hour, begging you to let him fly you out to japan.

“it’s beautiful this time of year, ‘nd i bet you’d look great in a kimono!” he just keeps going on and on, relentlessly begging and deliriously chatting your ear off with crazed ramblings of how he’s going to treat you like the goddess you are the moment you step off that plane.

it’s not like you think he’s making empty promises. you don’t doubt that he has money, not for a second. after all, you’ve managed to wind him so tightly around your finger that he pretty much funds everything for you. college tuition, spa days, shopping trips, and nitro.

especially nitro.

and up until this point, all you’ve had to do was sweet talk him, send a couple suggestive pics, and much to your shame, meow for him. but who cares? it’s a moment of embarrassment for a much lengthier time of luxury.

well, it’s too bad it’s finally catching up to you. now this clingy, needy, discord mod is begging you to come see him.

“but, toruuu.” you’re inwardly cringing at how sugared your voice is, even more so at the demure pout you’re impelling as you look straight into the camera. “it’s sooo far.” and while the sound of your forced, cloyingly sweet voice makes you want to barf, he’s eating it up like the sound alone is candied ambrosia.

“c’mon, kitty.” he’s persistent. you’ve got to give him that.

“it’ll be all expenses paid! i just want to see youuuuu!” and it’s almost jarring to see an attractive, wealthy man, only a handful of years older than you, begging this childishly for a girl he’s only ever seen on his screen to travel overseas and meet him. 

hesitating, weighing out the options in your head before finally conceding with a reluctant sigh of: “send me six hundred to get my hair and nails done.”

you knew you were fucked when you got a notification from cashapp saying six thousand instead.

-

and truly fucked you were, because who would’ve thought that the guy quite literally paying you to meow for him would be a freak?

…

you.

you did.

and maybe you should have trusted your gut instinct because now you’re halfway across the world, bent over your discord daddy’s lap, pretty pink miniskirt hiked up and flipped over to give his palm better access to land mean smack!’s against your steadily flushing rear. 

“ugh, kitty, you are just too cute when you cry like that.” you’re mistaken to think that he would maybe give you even just a second of reprieve from the relentless assault of his hand, but no, he slaps an even harder swat over your poor, pillowy ass.

this has to be what, the tenth—? twelfth—smack? honestly, you’ve lost count. overwhelming humiliation from the sadistic spanking aside, you don’t even want to think about the matching paw print thigh-highs and cat ears he insisted you wear while he gives you this ‘special’ treatment.

“b-but, it h-hurrrrrts—!” you’re whining in earnest now, fingers curling into the fabric of the surprisingly silken sheets as he giggles. giggles. a small, awfully boyish laugh that should have nothing, yet has everything to do with your predicament.

but really, the pain is the last thing on your mind when you’re feeling a heat twist in your gut that has nothing to do with the burn of the slaps that crack against your reddening cheeks. the kind of fervour you’re praying he doesn’t notice slickening your panties, because god knows he’d be remorseless.

“aww, it h-hurts?” he mimics the stutter you didn’t even realise you had with a snicker, rubbing salt into your wounded ego and fractured dignity while you discreetly squeeze your thighs together. “come on, cupcake, you can count five more, rightttt?” firm hands press into your cheeks before spreading them apart, letting the seam of your panties dig further against your core.

“five!?” you all but squawk, squirming atop his lap as he continues kneading your ass like he’s a cat with a bakery to run. he’s infatuated with it, with the way you react when he squeezes and slaps, the way you try and fail to mask the gasps and whimpers as he plays with you.

“mhm, fiiiive moreee.” satoru drags out the words. mocking. teasing. aggravating.

he continues spreading and groping like a man possessed, leaving you simmering in anticipation for torment promised to come. it actually makes you flinch when he abruptly stops, letting the pads of his fingers keep you pinned. you run cold when you hear the sudden, sharp crash of his laughter.

“oh, no.” he breathily chuckles before smearing you so far apart you feel the cool air of the room blow over your clothed pussy. 

“is my little kitty getting wet from being slapped?” and you hate the stupid smirk in his stupid voice. hate the way your stupid back arches out of stupid impulse. 

“s’toru-” you’re practically mewling, head dropping forward into the crook of your elbow as he shamelessly toys with you, dragging a finger up the puffy, sodden slit your panties cling to, probably sporting the biggest grin you can barely begin to imagine.

“didn’t know you were slutty for a little pain.” gojo’s voice drops to a coy murmur, feigning surprise at the more than expected reaction. 

“m’not.” you whine the blatant denial against your forearm as he hooks a finger beneath the cotton of your thong and tugs the flimsy fabric aside, popping a long finger in your cunt so suddenly it makes you choke on a gasp. he groans as if it’s in his ass, biting his lip when he feels you squeeze around him.

“uh-huh, sureee.” he begins to move, pumping in and out with an increasing vigor while you squirm and arch. the type of finger-fucking that’s so mind-melting you barely notice when he slips a second. then a third. stretching you out beyond belief to the point where you aren’t sure your lungs can catch up.

he bumps you up on his knee as his digits mash your insides, slipping his free hand under your front in the fraction of a second to catch your clit with his thumb, jolting incessantly frenzied rings around the puckered nub, making you tremble.

“j-just like—FUUUCK—!” you’re crying out, jerking up in tandem with the thrusts of his fingers. he snickers again. it barely registers. not when he’s found that rigid patch of nerves in your gummy walls, making you muffle a scream into your arm. 

“be a good girl ’n say ‘thank you, daddy!’”

if you weren’t so flustered, you’d probably scoff at the command, brush it off and refuse to call him that. but when his digits are jostling in and out while he’s teasing something along the lines of “you’re gushing around me, sweets.”, you don’t question it.

ass raising, hips bucking. you’re flushed and breathless by the time your orgasm comes crashing down on you. an embarrassingly wanton moan is torn from your throat as your thighs begin to quake, feeble little whimpers of “mph, daddy—! thu-thank you!!” snuffed against the bedsheets you’re clinging so desperately to.

“ah, fuck. so. tight.” satoru punctuates the words with a flick against your clit, making you yelp and try to uselessly scramble off his thighs. “not so fast.” he pulls his fingers out before flipping you over on his lap, your lower back hitting his knees with a painless thud.

“you don’t get to run from it. not when we’ve barely started, kitty.” he’s smiling down at you. wolfish. and whether flying out was a mistake or not, you know for certain you’re not going to make it out alive.

you’re still breathless, skin scorched beneath your baggy, blush sweater. so he pushes it up, palm splaying over the soft of your stomach while the other keeps your shaky thighs wedged apart. staring up at that handsome face almost makes you forget how… unconventional he is. like he can get away with calling you his ‘perfect kitten’ with just a bat of his lashes.

“such a pretty girl.” he’s lilting lightly, like he isn’t tugging the lacey cups of your bra down to free your darling tits. “with a body made to be worshipped.” lidded baby blues flitting between your parted lips and perky nipples. greedy and indecisive.

“toru—!”

he pinches the hardened buds until you correct yourself with a squeak.

“daddy—i mean daddy!”

he only hums, continuing to tweak them while you worry your bottom lip between your teeth, gaze hazy and a little unfocused as his free hand simultaneously, hypnotically, rubs your pussy.

“don’t be rough. please?” you blink up at him, cheeks still stinging with the persistent buzz from the earlier spanking. you’d think he was only half paying attention with the way he fondles your breasts so adamantly, but the way a new grin, all teeth and tease, splits his lips… it tells you he’s already got something in mind.

“well,” he begins with a simper, fingers unremittingly digging into the supple plush of your chest as he feigns consideration. “i won’t have the chance to if we do it at your pace.” and then he stops. letting go of you one second, manhandling you to straddle him the next.

“how about you take me for a ride, cupcake?” god forbid you were beginning to find his oddity endearing. let alone sexy.

but still, the conflict between your rational mind and everything else doesn’t distract you from the flutter you feel in your gut when he holds you so flush against him. cheesing up at you with hands encircling your hips and an erection pressed against the seam of your cunt, satoru waits for your next movement which comes in a dither little grind that makes him want to coo at how cute you are.

you’re dizzy already, earlier stimulation and rising nerves making your head swim just a little more than usual. 

“oh, don’t tell me you’re tapping out before we’ve even started…” he knows he’s provoking you if that smirk is anything to go by. so instead of letting him continue nettling you, you plant both palms on his shoulders and begin to rock against him with a purpose that makes you both draw in a sharp breath.

his curled lips part as if he’s planning to goad but you’re quicker. lunging forward, mouth snagging against his in a messy kiss that knocks the wind from his lungs. arrogance melts off as he pulls you tighter, clothed bulge bucking into your deliberate swivels while you smother his little gasps and piffling groans.

a muffled “mph—she’s eager.” and you can’t help but admire his terribly annoying talent of having an answer for everything. even when you’re on top, making him breathe funny and stifle curses.

you’re taking charge, and it might be because he’s beneath you, or maybe he’s just letting you... no. he’s definitely letting you. the way he’s hauled and handled you like you’re weightless and the smile against your lips is enough confirmation to realise he’s holding back.

tongues twist, seconds blur, and your clothes are strewn carelessly across the lavish floor of his room.

one hand braced on satoru’s shoulder, the other planted on his thigh as you ease down on his length. leaky dip barely prodding past your honeyed entrance as he bites his lip to salvage composure.

“shit, kitten—” he’s choking out with a strangled huff while you’re hyper focused on the kindled stretch of his cock as you sink lower. trying to hold your breath ’cause who knows what kind of wanton noise could slip out, even if you’re still gasping like you can feel him in your throat.

you still haven’t said anything. jaw clenched, breathing deep through your nose while lashes flutter in focus since he’s. just. that. big. 

sweat is already beading at his temple by the time he’s fully sheathed in your velvet heat. neither of you have moved yet and you’re feeling him press in places you never thought existed. dazed and disoriented, you take a moment to accommodate the feeling of being stuffed so wholly.

he’s mumbling out a huffed “you okay?” that somehow tethers you to reality. then he's snaking a hand up your spine, stroking you lightly before his fist curls around the strands of your hair, gently tugging your head to be level with his. he bites back another smirk when he sees you adjust the cat ears that’d barely slipped.

“yeah, fine.” you let the words out with a small puff, hands grasping him so tight they might just brand his skin. cockiness aside, satoru’s been waiting for this for months.

sure, when you first PMed him he’d been skeptical. but in your spurious persistence, he’d conceded. and that’s when the dreams started. 

seriously, it was like you were casting spells on him.

fantasies about what it would feel like to have you, always so cute and dolled up on his screen, wrapped around him with that tight, velvet vice. about the noises you’d make, the way you’d cry and beg for him to let you come.

months he’d been waiting, and now you were here. finally, in his arms.

“mmh. sure you are.” he teases with no real malice. a real snark would’ve been silly coming from the guy whose cheeks are flushed a rosy pink because he’s that affected. one hand is still loosely fisted in your hair while the other traces a sultry path down your shoulder blades to the faint dip of your arch.

you draw in one last shaky breath before beginning to move. what starts as a stuttered lift of your hips turns into almost controlled gyrations. you let out a breathy sigh when you feel him yank you down against his bare chest, heart hammering against your own as he lewdly fucks up into you.

another whimper is caught in your throat, ass knocking against his thighs as you twin his feverish thrusts while he groans loudly by your ear, murmuring something barely coherent about how perfect you are.

you somehow will yourself to drag a hand up his neck and rake through the tousled, pearly stands of his hair. that’s until he pummels into a spot that has you surging forward, touch leaving him to slam against the pillow as you let out a sound that can only be described as animalistic. 

you’re tightening up and he’s still driving into you. you tense like it’s a mission, mouth dropping open in a cry that cracks as you feel your climax crash over you a second time. so intensely you feel like you’re about to convulse, so fiercely you practically keel over and collapse onto him, headband dropping, bouncing off the bed and somewhere on the floor.

“OHMYGODOHMYGOD!!” you’re wailing, hands scrambling to clutch anything and everything while his pace finally begins to stammer.

“o-oh fuck—hah, so fu-fucking tight—!” he’s almost slurring, eyes fluttering shut as he barely manages to hold back. the last few seconds feel like an eternity of overstimulation for you before he’s pulling out with a shudder, sturdy arms squeezing you tight and hoisting you up while his cum spurts against the backs of your thighs.

“so good to me, sweet girl. soooo good to me.” he’s hushing out even more crazed than before, lips trailing over every inch of skin he can reach, easing you down as you continue to thrum with the aftershocks of such a fervid orgasm. you can barely manage a word, heaving against his sculpted front as he mildly flips your positions, hands brushing away sticky curls.

your fingers scrabble to find purchase against his delts, cheeks warm and body beyond boneless. eyes flutter closed like it’s second nature and you hear him puff out a quiet, sated laugh against your cheek.

“m’gonna be so sore tomorrow.” you grumble hoarsely, feeling too hot but burrowing against him despite yourself. he keeps stroking you, touch almost scathing in the way it crawls up your spine and down your achy skin with a barely fettered intensity.

“don’t worry, kitten. daddy’s gonna take realll good care of you. make you feel all better.”

and you almost wonder if this whole thing’s been some kind of orchestrated farce when you hear a stifled snicker.

for fuck’s sake.

a/n: i don’t know what possessed me to write this. sorry.

[dinoclawsz]

Can you believe it guys Saemaji game just 3 weeks away

[chloesimaginationthings]

Michael Afton knows the FNAF Mimic’s secret..

[ataudcanela]

[art-by-fate]

HUGE congrats to sir Skizzleman for hitting that big shiny 100k!!!!