#and counting

[staring-shoot]

Going through my old art and finding a file named "microwaved Sasunaru" bc of course they've been rotating in my head for years now

[callizinc]

I'm encountering a problem that nobody else on Earth ever has had before, Because even after all these weeks i still feel starved for Ena dream bbq themed brain stimulation 24/7 as if im a guy crawling through the desert on nothing but a radish or whatever the joke is. But I don't like it anywhere

Like youtube is scary and I refuse to watch like 95% of dream bbq themed videos being put out right now. Twitter i did unfortunately check for like art and stuff from time to time but it's Twitter so I'm basically dooming myself to irreversible psychic damage. It's SO. so bad over there. And the tumblr tag here. Well ..................

So my options have become limited to my like 6 (Shoutout. AND COUNTING!) Ena mutuals on here Except now we get to the other part of my problem,Because i have nothing better to do than think about my game a lot of the time #mygame. But Believe it or not Crazy i know, The handful of bloggers i trust To talk about dbbq cannot be online 24/7 and also cannot be online at the sporadic and random times i am online. Such as midnight on a sunday.

So in conclusion: I have the hardest life of anyone that's ever lived. ever. In other conclusion: Come play toys with me

[nalyra-dreaming]

I'm just... thanks to @showmey0urfangs here for catching the spot 😭

[pinkofatom]

I just saw that I got 500 likes in total and more than 100 followers. And I'm like: Wow! (And a few other things 🩷)

So here is a small thank you story for like your interest and the attention you people have given to me.

500

With wide eyes I stared at the message. Five hundred likes. I couldn't believe it. My heart fluttered. Butterflies tickled my stomach. Five hundred likes. A five followed by twin zeroes. I did not know how to react to this. Gratefulness? Tears pooled at the corners of my eyes. Trembling I looked at the number of followers. Over one hundred. My heart fluttered. Butterflies tickled my stomach. And a hot sensation made me squirm.

Ragged I breathed in and out. Five hundred. The number grabbed my mind — and squeezed. The zeroes surrounded my head like a supple pair of breasts. Aroused, my hand slid downwards and I felt a damp spot on my panties. A wet spot that spread at the thoughts of the many eyes on my posts. That grew while I imagined their gazes lingering on my words.

Five hundred.

My nipples stood up and my hips rolled on their own accord. Thighs rubbed together. I couldn't resist. The number just squeezed harder.

Thoughts dripped down — flowing down the drain. My mind was like a sponge — wrung out.

Five hundred.

The only thing that stayed were those words. Five hundred likes. I trembled and I shivered. I wanted to rub. But my hand remained unmoving. The hot sensation rose from between my legs to my belly, my breasts and my nipples — then my neck and up to my head.

I panted. My vision blurred. I needed more.

The numbers filled me with an intense longing for more attention.

I squirmed. The desire for approval overwhelmed me. The knowledge that many had read my stories turned me on more than the wildest ride. And it wasn't the attention of any particular person, no matter how attractive. It was the sheer number that aroused me so.

And again the number squeezed. Drool fell down on my sensitive breasts. The liquid slid down my left breast. Over my areola and erect nipple. Shudders ran through my body.

My eyes remained glued on the screen. Five hundred. My heart hammered against my chest. I wanted more. I craved for more. My hand twitched, but didn't move lower to where my clit throbbed for a touch. No, it moved to the keyboard.

One letter. Then two. Then five. Soon the first word stood. Then the next. And another one. I wrote in a trance — and with every word typed the number grabbed me harder, squeezed me more, wrung my brain out until nothing but a typing slut remained.

I was the typing slut. The one who wrote for attention, for likes — to bring others pleasure.

It felt good to be a typing slut. My fingers flew over the keyboard and the hot sensation spread. More words appeared. A new story was born. I didn't have any idea where it came from. It just dripped out. Like the juices between my legs.

Each keystroke pressed on my core. Every word felt like a tongue. And finished sentences — gawd. My hips rolled and bucked and I moaned out in ecstasy. Shudders and shivers wracked my body — and the number still held my mind in its grip. It squeezed an empty brain. My head felt so empty, but I felt good.

I just wrote.

Letter after letter. Word after word. An endless stream that flew from my fingertips and onto the screen. I wrote in ecstasy. And I wanted nothing more than to write and write and write.

(if you liked this, or any of my other stuff then think about giving a tip at my ko-fi. And get a giggle in return)

[t3acupz]

sir that’s my emotional support show that i’ve rewatched 47 times

[yungbowtie]

life update: currently in the midst of an all-encompassing obsession with all things sufjan stevens. i’ve made a lot of mistakes (in my mind) and putting off listening to his music for this long is certainly one of them

[zxenilittlefloras]

NOOOOOOOOOO COME BACK TO US (ignore the fact im on lightmode i dont use bluesky ok)

[dyl-z]

We’ve gotten 6 summer camps today

[blitzwhore]

So apparently today I'm playing this game called "how many typos can one spot in their own fanfic immediately after posting it" 🤣🤣🤣

[ivorybacchus]

how the fuck did i go from “tell me thy secrets of your hair care routine” to “jonathan is being an angsty bitch (affectionate) as always ❤️” in the same exact fic…

[violetmuses]

1,969 words... 👀

@miss-kuki-nz 🏷

[extrasteps]

Chapters: 7/? Fandom: Video Blogging RPF Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF) Characters: Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF) Additional Tags: Shibari, Miscommunication, not so unrequited longing, Angst, and FOR WHAT, more tags added as we go, will be explicit as heck Summary:

George is willing to do anything for Dream, even apparently getting tied up?

[asthecrowrambles]

[ID person of color wearing a white crocheted spiderweb sweater with a crop top and shorts underneath. /End ID]

IT IS FINISHED 🕷🕸🎉🎉

after about a week of work and intense crochet sessions, my spiderweb top is finished! this is my first major crochet project ^_^

i followed the video tutorial by aperpetualmess on youtube!

[moonstruckdraws]

I'm not gonna be able to deny the allegations, so I'm just going ahead and saying, yes.

Mama Char is my next sketch board.

Yes this is another Vera situation, although not gonna be nearly as detailed and finished product like as her beautiful posters.

I can't help it.

I don't have a problem

Blame Helli. It's their fault.l

[fanficrocks]

It's Thursday Thursday, and time to tip our hats to Fred and Win.

A policeman's lot is not a happy one, I'm told. But, the lot of a policeman's wife hardly gets a mention....

Twenty-five years ago I got the best bit of luck any man ever had. The toast is, My Win.