#IME 9

[punkitt-is-here]

dungeon yuri

[havi-fart]

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH YAAYYYY

to fight my artblock i decided to redraw some gerard p donelan comics as ds9. but once i started i could not stop....

so heres all deep space 9 of them. lol. again the poses and captions are lifted straight from his comics all i did was put space guys on there! please enjoy

(id in alt text btw!)

[civetcider]

i wanna be fishing right now part 3

Oakley the black bear and Traver the kit fox, she/her for both!

[hellspawnmotel]

cementing my place as the crossovers for no reason guy

(third pic based on)

[time-woods]

what if we were both boys and when we went to kiss our glasses bonked together and made us giggle

[moonlightmagical]

the magnus protocol 9 - rolling with it:

[toxungen]

guard dog

[bildadshusband]

”you better not be cunty he/him leather dyke when i get back” me when you get back

[yanhuisan]

now i spend my days dreaming about you

[arttuff]

some robin 1 and 2 costume headcanons!!!

shorts on jason inspired by rillette on tumblr's amazing jason design. love this bug

imagine going to work at your henchman job and getting beaten up by a larval stage vigilante. i'd be mortified

[onionninjasstuff]

[majunju]

[right to left] hypnosis

[jackwhiteprophetic]

No it's actually setting in now that we are going to go the whole summer with Eddie canonically apart from Chris. He's gonna go home to an empty house and he's gonna burn food with no one there to tease him and his calendar is gonna be fucking empty and when children are injured on calls he's gonna wake up in the night and go to Chris' room and he's not there and he's gonna think this was inevitable and that he tried for nothing. KILL ME NOW.

[ninkkkkk]

Um, guys, i think im dead rn...

I SPENT MY 7 HOURS ON THIS AND I THINK ITS NOT IN VAIN...

[ THE SUNNY & MOONEY FROM MY FAV ARTIST @shandzii !! ]

[goomyloid]

noelle kurashiki..

[moondirti]

cw: dubcon humping. gn reader. he’s just a little pent up guys.

gaz is absolutely the type to squeeze you into a hug that lasts a bit too long.

idk, maybe you’re his best friend or something. someone he instantly clicked with at uni and who’s stuck around despite everyone else in his life falling away like pastry crumbs. devotion that isn’t romantic nor entirely platonic in a sense, but a secret third thing that has you inviting him to stay the night when he returns home and his flat is too far a drive for someone so tired.

you greet him at your door when he arrives. he’s bulkier than when he left for deployment, fills up the arms of his t-shirt and the thighs of his pants. smells like sweat and the faint traces of his cologne (Y by yves saint laurent. you’d gotten it for his birthday.) so sexy you might as well abandon your propriety and slip a hand down the course hairs of his happy trail. but you don’t. instead, you go in for one of your patented this-isn’t-more-than-a-friendship half hugs.

which he does not take. as your one arm hooks around his neck, both of his wrap around your waist and force you to embrace him fully. it’s crushing. so tight you have to lift your head to breathe properly. he lifts you off your feet and sways you back and forth as he whispers little complaints; things about stubborn CO’s or unnecessary bloodshed. you allow it because it sounds like he needs it, this small comfort.

except it verges on longer than a few seconds. longer than proper for a pair of good uni friends. his hand kneads the flesh of your back, and his hips grind against your groin. is he hard, or is that a gun he has yet to unarm? you can’t tell, but it seems to work for him when the hard mass in his jeans catches the canyon of yours. he groans quietly, stuttered, as his thrusts gain pace. as he tightens himself like a cobra around its prey. as he plants his lips onto your neck and starts inhaling the scent of your freshly washed skin.

“…kyle?” you whisper, awkward hands flailing about behind him. your voice comes out in a strained way, vocal chords crushed against his shoulder.

“jus… give- fuck. give me a moment, mate.”

so you do. it doesn’t last much longer after that, anyway. his grinding grows brutal, knocks the little air left out of your lungs. it hurts to a degree. he’s hitting the tendon between your leg and crotch – and you’re sure it’ll be tender in the upcoming days – but you don’t voice your troubles to the man around you, who unravels at such a startling pace you know he’s too far gone to pay proper attention regardless. how else would he be bold enough to grope the plush curve of your ass? two hands latch onto it like dough, anchoring you up so the angle hits just right.

and then he starts to get sloppy. his rhythm loses pace. his stance widens and he fucking whines into your ear as a wet spot spreads across the front of his pants. you’re so dizzy that, when he lets go of you, you have to hold onto his forearm to steady yourself, blinking owlishly at the grin that stretches across his face. as if he didn’t just hump you and cream in his clothes. why are you the one caught off guard?

“thanks for that.” he winks, then pets the flyaways off your temple.