#ITS SO FFFFFFFFF

[van-whorenheim]

“You’re one of them!” OK BUT HE ISNT REALLY WHY HASNT THIS SERIES FULLY ADDRESSED HE’S A JOTUNN-

[daandov]

do you love she like i love she?

[saintbleeding]

martin and georgie dialogue in mag 149 incident, me dead and also injured

[missamyrisa2]

Miss Amy is in a tickle machine that gives tickle jobs. When the gigglecum goes everywhere, the tickle sponges come out and scrup Miss Amy clean with giggly delight

Don't worry this tickle machine is made for Amy. It knows to tap on a belt and tickle your wonderful feet right under the toes l. Purple feathers and silky ribbons to teases all your ticklish muscles and chest buttons

Another round in the domed pleasure paradise ~ I can't help but notice how some of the watchers prefer to look at me directly through the opaque purple dome while others are glued to the live feeds on smaller displays outside the unit or gathered on the giant TV in the center of the break room which is currently showing the sponges being lathered up in preparation. Apparently I'm about to blow again ~ well, shoot dang~ The data-oriented team members are always congregated in the stats corner where the analytics on my body and reactions pile up like they usually do~ apparently I'm on track to break a record here. But I'm not going to make it easy for this stupid machine. The lotioned up puce hand is wiggling its digits in anticipation. I know this hand well, it has more technique than all the others and could probably deliver untold pleasures to anyone ~ were it not employed to use that unbelievable talent for evil.

I push back in the restraints. The machine squeals as it redoubles its positioning of my body ~ perfectly held and bent slightly so the whirling teasing fluffy furry wheels of feathery doom can make contact with my pinkened tush and backs of my inner thighs. This is it ~ the hand opens its fingers in anticipation. I just have to hoooollllddd tightttt ~ the employees in the break room who have placed their wagers start cheering. If I can stay taut I can stave off the handjob a little longer ~ anddddd fffffffff ~ not todayyy, not todayy ~ I'm squealing squeaking madly as those impossibly soft fluffs tease at my sensitive backside ~ my thighs quiver and my hips struggle and twisttttt and thennnn I'm flung forward, cackling out my giggles and blushing furiously as I see my aroused princess part bouncing and flopping right to the waiting villainous hand making a 'come hither' motion~

I try to focus on the large display showing my princess part as it lands into that waiting wicked machine hand. Silly I know, but sometimes imagining it's a faraway giggle girl and not me helps~ but only slightly, because now I'm definitely most definitely gigglemoaning in all my desperation. Ghhh~ I want it sooo bad. I can't help itttt ~ and weirdlyyy I just can't help but want to give them the show they came to the breakroom for. I know Brooke will be reviewing my performance later, probably having me bound to her flower bed while she evaluates and teases me and makes me watch as she re-calibrates her machinery. Always going on about being the inventor of my flower belt and me owing her all my "research material" blah blahhhh unnnhhh I guess that was me gigglecrying out her name again. So many giggledrops ~ the hand won't stop milking, the tickly brushes wheel about my body making me push further and give everything I've got. I suppose being wrapped in the purple dome with all these ribbons across my arms and legs is somewhat artful as I'm made to ticklegasm yet again~

Those sponges emerge and the squeaky sounds start. I swear they are piped in from unseen speakers ~ cleaning tools shouldn't make those sounds right? It's so silly and guh. Now I'm screaming giggling again. The hand was not intending to give me a clean gigglecum by any means and now those stupid sponges are having a field day on my wiggling spent body. And it looks like I get no reprieve today ~ maybe I shouldn't have sassed them so badly when I was being put into the dome today ~ the panels under my toes are already open again and the toe ticklers are rearing back to snare each one and fill the gaps with those evil little conveyors of soft material. Annnndddd mmmh~ the beltttt wellll shhheeet~ the machine is bringing the flower out and an array of tuning forks ~ I guesss today they really are going to kill meee because the toe tickles already have my queen part getting worked up again and nowww those forks are going to strike every petal until I'm dead~ what a way to spend my lunch break <3

[blindrapture]

THURSDAY JUNE 28TH, 2011 (THE FOURTH RAKE OF THE APOCALYPSE)

6:49 AM I slept. Donnie wants to come with me to meet with Bill.

7:22 AM We’re at the pharmacy. Nobody’s here. We’ll wait it out.

8:05 AM Donnie doesn’t think anyone’s coming. I think she’s right. We’re heading back.

8:30 AM MOTHERUCKf BASH rfh WHATI oh my god eyes

1:56 PM in my bed oh god its eyes were like hell It was like I had a soul and it was staring into it. It was the Rake. It was a fourth Rake. I think I backed my head into the wall too fast.

1:59 PM Donnie’s in here now.

2:01 PM Fuck. Donnie says Bill’s dead. He was torn to shreds. The Rake got him. Fuck fuck fuck. Bill had some papers for me. I’m getting out of bed.

2:07 PM Oh god I haven’t thrown up in a while. That’s a lot of.. I mean, that looks nothing like Bill anymore. It’s all blood and torn flesh, scattered all over the room. What’s left of Bill is scattered all over the walls and floor and ceiling. ..the wall. THE WHITE JESTER IS NEXT djushgusdfigjfdg FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE WHY ARE YOU SUCH A DICK I HATE YOU YOU COCKSUCKING FUCKING PIECE OF DICK SHIT FUCK

5:49 PM The Rake wants to fuck with me, does he? Well, I’ll fucking give the fucker something to fucking fuck with. Tiger Stripes, we’ve got one more Rake to kill. Let’s do this. For Bill, for that Asian dude, and for all the people who the Rake has terrified and/or maimed. Now if only I knew where the fuck the Rake was.

7:23 PM Someone said they saw it outside. C’mon, Tiger Stripes. Batter up. I dunno. Let’s just do this. I’m putting my sunglasses on. It’s nearly half-past, and I’m putting my sunglasses on. I want the Rake to know I’m not fucking around.

7:32 PM On second thought, maybe wearing sunglasses at night isn’t the best way to convey the message “I don’t fuck around.” Fuck it, taking ‘em off.

7:34 PM SAW THE FUCKER Where you running off to?

7:37 PM WAIT ..fffffffff This didn’t go the way I had planned. How am I gonna break the news to them?

8:05 PM I told ‘em it straight-out. The Rake ran into the Exodus. Now we have a bit of a panic on our hands.

9:45 PM We had a meeting and a headcount. To sum it up, - There are twenty-five of us left. - The trip on the Exodus will take six days if we’re lucky. - There’s a goddamn Rake somewhere on the Exodus. - We have five members of the Exodus crew, plus two doctors. - We have one sick person. She wasn’t here for the meeting, but she was counted in the headcount. - We have six children, four of whom (including Donnie and I) are teenagers. - We have twelve adult passengers, including the innkeeper and the sick lady, as well as Richard and Meredith. - Worth noting: This is just us who have been headcounted. Not that I think we’ll find any legitimate stowaways, but you never know. So. Six days, twenty-five people, one boat, one Rake hiding away. Why do I get th

10:10 PM Motherfucker, this is insane. - We have twenty-four people. A young child, a kid named Jeremy, was just found with his head cleanly cut off. That’s the modus operandi of the Masked Massacrer. But Rake’s already killed Masky; he was Bill. Which was shocking, yes, but still.

10:15 PM So let me get this straight. Twenty-four people on the Exodus for six days straight. One of us might be the Masked Massacrer, or it might be a stowaway. There is also a Rake hiding away somewhere. Tiger Stripes, give me strength.

(Attached: “Ah, the sea, greatest mystery of the Earth. Older than the species that conceptualized Time, and we owe our past to her. Yet no one knows much about her depths, no one except Salmacis, and it has this tendency to not want to share her information with the rest of us. Salmacis is another odd case altogether, though I’ll have to prepare if I want to tell you about her. There’s a lot to say, and no easy way to say it.”)

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[002yb]

Current thoughts: The way Jason and Dick love each other and the strange balance they present through their dynamic by just existing within each other's presence that causes a state of neutralization. 

Jason is akin to a state of intoxication

Because Dick is all anger and rage that has been bottled up and taught hard chains and lines to cope rather than a release - it festers into something ugly and brutal and always licks at the back of his teeth to be let out. It's bandaids given by the weeping over gaping vivisections performed by loss and grief that never go away, sometimes he’ll wake up and swear he can feel blood on his fingers - sliding down to stain the white sheets under him. And he’s mastered masking it - not touching it - not letting it heal but not letting anybody see and using it to fuel the hunger that gets him through the night, the relish of broken bones and justification.

And for the shitty start they had Dick never actually thought the kid who grated against him would become the soothing feeling of forgetting. Because when spikes fall to reveal something so soft and endearing it's as if Dicks brain rearranges its own anatomy - like his dopamine release was directly connected to the kid who skates around him with a taunting smile he can't help but bite playfully at. And the wound is still there - and Dick doesn't know if it'll ever actually heal but there's something more secure - because Jason sews him up and offers to wait until it turns into nothing but a scar. And maybe it'll never heal - but Jason is prepared to stay forever and the thought of a future with this ridiculous kid that's climbed his way into his open chest settles Dick in a way he hasn't known since he was in the circus. 

Dick is likened to something of an addiction 

Because for all Jason is hard thorns and armor - hostile architecture coating his skin like how they once chased him out of safe spaces on the street - it's to protect a softer inside. Jason’s actions are presented through anger - but they were transformed from a perpetually bleeding love - the kind that lets you crush his skull under your foot and he’ll love you from hell. It's tender in the hurt - and delicate in its state and so full it might burst - the love Jason harbors for the wicked. And Jason knows anger is the only thing he's capable of - and he doesn't know where to direct it but he keeps drowning in his own guts and he's drowning - drowning - and almost gone. Robin fights for justice, he has no idea what he fights for without the mask - violent caresses of a heart.

And then there's this pull - a tug, a draw, a heave - and he's being dragged forward and he doesn't know where but there's a direction now and it always leads back to eyes so blue they mimic the sky. Dick is an addiction - and Jason has a past with shit like this - but he thinks it might be ok this one because the bruises decorating his bones like a curse are slowly healing. It's found in the way his barbs and threats fall short - a manufactured high - they don't quite reach and eventually they wilt and fall off until he's left bare and vulnerable. It's presented messily but so endearingly in the way he seems to have a second metaphorical stomach that's always hungry for Dicks attention - and suddenly it's easier to know what to do. Because he might mess this up but as long as Dick is here he knows how to seek him out - there's an end goal and now there's a little dirt path highlighted by laughter and lazy smiles. 

(ahh hope this one actually catches what i'm trying to say this was a struggle lmao - recovering from a tongue piercing is no joke.)(also ill for sure send an ask if i do make the writing blog!!)

Jason being intoxicating and Dick being addictive is such a concept and I think I actually really adore it (because I think this might actually be how I default write them LOL, especially in WtMBU/N&R verse and I know an addiction/intoxication motif reads as toxic but idc fffffffff). Thank you again anon for another lovely introspective on dickjay. It's so thought-provoking!! Also I wish you all the best with the new piercing; I'll be hoping for smooth sailings during the recovery. (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

Your analysis on Dick is a take I'm so immensely fond of though. There's nothing I adore more than when someone explores the darker side of this man. The side of him that's hurt and stays hurting because he never lets himself heal - because he's healed wrong. The side of him that's vicious and volatile, cold and cruel. It's not that Dick is always this way; it's not the forefront of his personality/character, but it's there. He's capable of wicked things: violent, ugly, brutal. Dick carries so much grief with him that it wrecked him, ruined him. With the hard lines he's learned to cope through, where else can his rage go but to tearing at his own skin and through his muscle; blood caked under his nails and lungs overfull from all the screams he's had to swallow down.

The self-restraint Dick is capable of is self-harm called discipline because it's nicer, more respectable. It's a slow and cruel death, but over time Dick has resigned himself to rot - psyche too tired from the burdens: I can't, I shouldn't, I won't.

Dick not being broken, per se, but fractured. No one being the wiser. Because even with wounds that healed poorly or broken bones that set wrong, Dick is strong. He's all fortitude and resilience. He knows how to push himself - there's no line for him to toe there. So Dick pushes and pushes until he's run down, burned out and smiling despite the burden because he can bear it. And no one need know.

But of course grief isn't kind. It leaves him introspective and withdrawn. He can put on a show when needed, but at his most honest Dick is just...quiet. Still. A sharp contrast to how he's usually dynamic and bright and wild.

Unrelated tangent indented below whoops

Lately (possibly for a while lol) I've really taken to the missed opportunity idea of Dick seeing Jason as the wounded part of himself [Dick] that never stopped hurting. Because here came Jason, Robin, wearing Dick's mantle and dressed in Dick's colors - every bit the part of Dick that Dick lost when his life fell apart.

Dick recognizes who he was, who he could have been, in Jason and it's - disconcerting. He hates it. Which would lead to such beautiful conflict that Jason wouldn't understand because he hasn't done anything wrong and Dick can't find the words to explain that it's not Jason that Dick hates, it's Dick. That's why he's cold and distant; it's cruel to walk away, but running from himself is all Dick could think to do.

Jason would make it so simple, too. Because Jason sees the wonderful things of Dick that Dick is too disconnected to remember about himself. Robin brought people hope and Jaybin would do the same for Dick. Jason would talk about Robin being magic, but the truth is that Robin was never anything magical. Jason brought that magic to Robin all his own. He brought it to Dick.

And basically it'd be this story of Dick coming to love Jason and also himself and uh oh I've derailed myself back to our regularly scheduled reply

~Warning for romanticizing of 'darker' analogies below~

Anyway, Jason being intoxicating. This. A big thank you for this, because this is such a striking analogy. With how this relates to Dick though, since this reply has veered strong that direction LOL. But yes, Dick finding Jason intoxicating; Dick being intoxicated by Jason.

Jason lowering Dick's inhibitions. Jason taking the edge off (the mental fatigue, the physical strain). That heady feeling of warmth and calm that Jason affords Dick would be addicting in its own right. For someone so controlled, Jason would be freedom.

In this same vein, Dick being addicting and Jason 'having a past with shit like that,' and 'thinking it might be okay this one time,' and knowing the dangers of thinking like that but doing it anyway because he's been hooked from the start and the high of being with Dick - having his time, his company; being teased by him, adored by him, loved by him - Jason can't go back. He wants more and more.

~ End of romanticizing ? ~

Jason falls back on anger because it's dangerous to be anything softer. He makes himself difficult because at his core he's starved and that's something easily preyed on, taken advantage of (he would know). Even still, he's greedy for attention, affection; respect, acknowledgement. And it's not like Jason is stupid or naive; he's aware enough to know not to give himself away only...he does. Time and again because loathe as he is to admit it, this boy is desperate and hurting. So he gives everything of himself away; he has patience in spades because he knows what it is to be hurt - his tolerance for it puts him in a position to be hurt again and again and he doesn't necessarily justify it, but he puts up with it. He goes back for more, a glutton for punishment or maybe because it's all he's really known. Maybe it's all he feels he deserves.

And it's no different when Jason makes himself a space in Dick's life. Jason is attracted to troubled people; like attracts like.

Maybe Dick would be the same as everyone else Jason has met. There would be a sharp learning curve because Dick is used to giving and Jason takes whatever is offered. Where am I going with this we're veering fast into dark waters LOLOL. But uh. Yep.

Basically ybb appreciates protective!dark!Dick trope.

I've burned myself out on this reply; it's been an adventure hahaha. Not even joking btw, this ask just called out what feels like the next few pieces of my N&R series LOLOL.

Thank you again, anon~ always a pleasure to see a message from you. (人´∀｀)+ﾟ:｡ﾟ+

[gayspock]

TH

THERE IS SOMEONE IN MY HOUSE, I AM NOT CRAZY OR IRRATIONAL OR BEING STUPID THIS TIME. NO . I WILL FUCKING EXPLODE INTO A BILLION PIECES. SOMEONE ELSE IS ACCESSING THIS PLACE. IT IS LITERALLY THE ONLY EXPLANATION THERE IS. I AM NOT FUCKING CRAZY. I AM GOING TO FUCKING BURN M HOUSE DOWN. NO. I CANT. NOBODY WILLISTEN OR GIVE A FUCK. OH MY GOD. HAHAHAHA. SORRY NO THIS IS A JOKE. NO ITS NOT. IM GOING TO PUKE. OHHHH MY GODDDDDDDDDD will ANYBODY FFFFFFFFF

END IT MAYBE I DID END IT AND IM IN THE LAST STAGES MY BRAINS FUCKING DETERIORATING AS WE SPEAK AND THIS IS IT FOR ME GOODNIGHT EVERYBODY I HAD A GOOD RUN. NO I DIDNT. IT SUCKED SO BAD . FUCK ME MAN

[frnknpup]

i love writing random shit on my arm, for example: fuck, eat ass, suck dick, i <3 faggots or just like, character names people get so confused sometimes and its really funny because they’ll say shit like “why does your wrist say that, uhm ‘i heart fffffffff something i shouldnt say and you shouldnt either’” like my sibling in satanism we are both very gay

[undermattsun-archive]

burn

inumaki toge x fem!reader | w.c 1.6k

a/n: it was 1 am, my eyes opened, my brain said: inumakis curse mark is hotter than the rest of his tongue, i tossed “toge cunnilingus hot curse mark” in the drafts and didn’t look at it for days,,, then i came back and spewed this out,,,, amen,, thanku to @pomsuki for givin this a lil lookie ily <3 also pls this is just a tinie lil somethin to help satisfy the absolute brain rot <33

dedicated to @bakatenshii …sorry + thanks for always putting up w me

characters are 18+ minors dni

warnings: oral fem!receiving, cuss words, slight dubcon, aka inumaki uses his cursed technique but reader is more annoyed than against it, me trying to write dialogue for inumaki

It’s half past midnight when your phone chimes, the infamous ‘u up?’ text flashing on your screen. It’s almost baffling how someone in his twenties still manages to text like a horny teen. 

Then there’s you, so prone to entertaining his bullshit, informing him with a short text, that you are indeed “up” and that whether or not you stay up strongly depends on his next choice of words.

Can I come over? I wanna try something.

You blink once, twice.

Promise it’ll be fun ;)

His choice of a winky face is once again, not one that offers a lot of hope, but honestly, what could you expect from one of Gojo’s former students.

And against your better judgement, you find yourself entertaining the ridiculous messages, saying that he has exactly twenty minutes to be at your door before you turn in for the night.

Inumaki being well, Inumaki, is knocking on your door exactly nineteen minutes and forty-two seconds after your text to him.

How and why do you know the exact numbers? You’d never tell. 

You usher him in, wordlessly offering some form of beverage with a loose gesture towards the kitchen. He shakes his head as he shuffles further into your apartment.

“Kelp.” He throws up a hand, waving slightly, shucking off his shoes and moving to settle on your couch.

“Mhmm, so what’s so important that you’re here at…” you squint at the clock mounted above your television, “nearly one in the morning.”

He stares at you, quirks a brow, drops it, quirks it once more and you're just about ready to kick him out when he draws his phone from his pocket. You take a seat next to him, throwing your legs atop his lap as you listen to him quickly type, then erase, then type and erase again.

As you listen to him repeat the process a few more times, you immerse yourself in mindlessly scrolling on your own phone, barely awake at this point as you settle further onto the couch.

“Tuna tuna.” His voice is gravelly, catching your attention more than the command to look. You squint at the words sitting on the screen, eyes widening at the short statement.

Sit on my face.

“Toge, you gotta be kidding.” His eyes narrow at your lighthearted tone, letting his phone drop on the cushions as he shifts on the couch, throwing one of your legs to the side and slotting himself between them. He leans forward, hands landing on your biceps as he grips tightly.

The crease of his brow, the determination in his eyes, even down to the way his breathing has quickened half a pace. Maybe he isn’t kidding.

“It’s one.” Like the time of day will make him change his mind on the matter, eyes still boring into you. “And I’m…tired?”

You’re not. In fact, the moment the words he presented to you processed in your tired brain, you were quickly plucked from the edge of sleep and thrown into naked curiosity and awoken by the scorching burn of desire heading south.

But it all feels too sudden, or maybe you’re more cowardly than you’d like to admit. Is it because you’ve been friends for so long? Wait, why did you basically say no?

Your mental war reaches a ceasefire the moment Inumaki drags down the mask covering the lower half of his face. His marked tongue flicking over his bottom lip as he surges forward, dragging the muscle up the column of your throat.

And ahh. 

His tongue already burns against your flesh, but you can feel it, the curse mark sitting at the center of the appendage burning just a few degrees hotter.

It leaves a trail of heat that radiates through you, parching your throat and solidifying the feeling of want, of need, it wrenches at your gut, only filling your mind with all the tantalizing possibilities.

Whatever curiosities that tickled at the back of your mind come crashing through, the feeling of his lips peppering against your neck and down your shoulder only further fueling the flames. 

Untangling yourself from him you stumble off the couch, fingers digging into the fabric of his thick sweater and hauling him up beside you.

There’s a smug noise in his throat that you decide is best to ignore —for your sanity and his safety— dragging him towards the bedroom, leaving no room for dumb reservations about the entire ordeal.

“C’mon, this was your idea.” You shove him past the doorway, snickering at how he stumbles and crashes into your bed. Top sorcerer your ass.

He yanks off his sweater, a black tank top stark against pale skin, the way the simple piece of clothing highlights lean muscles has your mouth water, gaze lingering hungrily.

Perhaps your eyes are a little too glossed over, distracted with the way you’ve never noticed how toned Inumaki is before this. Or maybe he thinks you’re just moving too slow.

If it weren't for how invested you were in this little experiment, you’d have killed him for his next move.

“Strip.”

Your sleep shirt is already halfway over your head when it registers what he’s done, letting it fall to the ground with little ceremony.

“Fucker.” You bite out as you drag your shorts down, exposing that you had nothing underneath the threadbare flannel.

Another smug noise sounds in his throat, only tempting you to wrap your fingers around the pale flesh and squeeze just tightly enough to prevent him from making it again.

Next time. If there’s a next time.

He leans back onto his elbows, unabashedly letting his gaze dance over your figure, a smirk tugging at the curse mark on his cheek. You’re crawling towards the bed, splaying your fingers over his deceptively toned chest as his own come to massage your thighs. 

“This isn’t gonna be weird right? Just two friends, hooking up?” The question should’ve come earlier, but Inumaki has always had a tendency to throw you off kilter no matter the situation.

He tilts his head at you, then has the audacity to shrug before planting his lips against yours, licking into your mouth as if it’s enough of an answer. And in this very moment, it is. 

He’s shameless with every little motion, the way his tongue explores so eagerly, how he has his fingers kneading into exposed skin inching towards your throbbing cunt. He’s careful to tease so lightly that his touch is barely there, tugging you towards frustration and madness.

“Toge.” You huff against his kiss, moaning as he nips at your jaw and soothes it with a burning lick. 

He flops back against the bed without warning, confusing you and spurring a few giggles at how his hair spreads out across the bed sheets, serving as a pale halo for the mischievous man. He tilts his head back a little, and moves his hands to pull at your hips, his movements begging for you to satisfy his request from earlier.

You consider teasing him just a little longer, wondering just how badly he wants to taste you as you trace your fingers along the curse mark on his cheek, trailing along to prod at his bottom lip, still wet with spit.

With one quick chaste kiss, you try your best to crawl forward in an appealing manner, squealing when he brings a hand down on your ass, gripping at his hair tightly as you straddle his face.

He doesn’t even give you a moment to orient yourself as he grips at your thighs, forcing your legs to buckle as he flicks his tongue against your clit. He moves his tongue so languidly it’s almost painful, a desperate whine escaping your lips as you try to grind your hips. 

Cruelly he tightens his grip, keeping you from budging even an inch, cursing yourself for forgetting just how much raw strength he really has. He continues his leisurely exploration, leaving no part of you unscathed, even making a point to drag his tongue up and down your inner thigh. 

A string of unintelligible moans laced with cuss words spills from your lips as he flattens his tongue, the scorching mark branding itself into your sopping cunt.

The debauched side of you hopes that it does, marking you for him and him alone.

“T-Toge please, please, please.” Your desperation sways him, the prodding of his tongue against your twitching entrance offering those same promises he keeps skirting around. “I wanna cum, m-make me cum.”

As if taking pity he relents his languid teasing, loosening his grip on your thighs to allow you to roll your hips at a pace you see fit, chasing after pleasure so desperately.

The tip of his tongue slips into your entrance, diving just deep enough to have his curse mark practically burn at the rim of your hole.

It shouldn’t feel as good as it does, it shouldn’t be just the thing you need to send you diving off the edge into a pool of borderline insanity and bliss. 

His name rips loudly from your throat as you grind into his tongue, pitying your neighbors in the back of your mind as his fingers dig so tightly into your thighs, your own hands coming down, one to grip at the bed sheets the other to tangle painfully in his hair. 

He nips at your thigh, a shudder wracking through your body and shaking your legs, unable to stop yourself from collapsing back and effectively trapping him underneath you. He manages to wiggle out, moving up the bed until you're semi-seated in his lap, the bulge in his joggers digging into your bare ass. 

His arms are around your waist, hauling you up to lean against him, you can practically hear him thinking.

“Gimme a few minutes and we can fuck around some more.” You pant out, limbs feeling weak and cunt still burning deliciously, trying to focus on the ragged rise and fall of his chest.

He shakes his head at you, a dastardly grin on his lips and you know what’s coming next, not even bothering to be ashamed as excitement builds in your chest. 

“Get on your knees.”

[smieska]

just another day of trying to do work but get distracted by different methods to make watercolour and gouache paints, finding out gouache uses calcium carbonate (chalk); goes down the rabbit hole of writing chalk and its ingredients because what if i just crush some writing chalk with a mortar and pestle; finds out that calcium carbonate is mainly advertised as vitamin supplements which meaNS PEOPLE EAT CHALK WHY WERE KIDS TREATED WEIRD FOR EATING CHALK WHEN YOU LITERALLY PUT IT IN YOUR PROTEIN SHAKE AS AN ADULT, WHERE IS THE PICA LINE CROSSED-- iM

............ i just wanna make paint omg

[theygender]

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[jeffreyss]

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[underlevi]

sir u can't just?? bust down??? and stab a man thru the neck???? bc its got me FEELING THINGS

[aster-daydream404]

AAAAAAAAAAAAA!

THEYRE FINALLY HERE YES!!!

[xmbulance]

ok frank playing the ghost of yous verse with delay got me 🥺🥺🥺 im legit crying rn

[002yb]

Your Titans Jaydick Nightwing and Robin series is FANTASTIC. There are actual images from your writing that translated so well they were burned into my mind. Dick declareing "give me ten", and falling asleep. The gentle back and forth. Dick absolutely taking that Victorian Maiden-Heart (ha!) Into account and acting to its standards. The intimacy charge climbing steadily higher and higher.

And then there's Ragdoll. MY GOD RAGDOLLL. I have it in my mind's eye. RAGDOLL.

Anyway, you (and disniq) literally inspired me to do what should have been done: cannibalize the visuals of the actor playing Jason on Titans in his other roles for inspo and local fandom enrichment. I slept on the idea, made a decision, and I'm gonna gif the crap out of it.

Anyway wanted to tell you, I enjoyed your writing TREMENDOUSLY, and was ALSO INSPIRED. And believe when I say it, I haven't been inspired to act Fandom wise in a very, very long time.

ThanQ!

Omgggggg it's @archtroop, hello hello! Let me tell you I actually surprise-pikachu-meme-faced when I saw how you went through every chapter of WtMBU and left comments on your feels the entire journey fffffffff my heart has been soaring because of that; all the sunshine feels LOL. I've been bad about replying to comments lately but thank you so much ahhhhhhhhhh!! It makes me so happy that you enjoyed the story/series so much; it's become so dear to me so to have it appreciated is so wild and wonderful, thank you. ///U//

Also, big !!! feels for you being inspired!! That's awesome! My only exposure to the actor was with Titans, but like. He was so darling LOL. Definitely wishing you all the best with those gifs! ♡ฅ(ᐤˊ꒳ฅˋᐤ♪)