#I'm going to write something now

[becca-e-barnes]

Ma’am, you are deviously incredible 🔥 We’re begging for an exploration of him saying “I love you” while fucking her like he doesn’t 🥹

My brain keeps picking up the storyline a few splendidly torturous hours in when her body’s completely spent & quivering & she’s a blubbering mess & that’s when he picks her up & takes his sweet time positioning her so she can limply yet eagerly watch their reflection has he finally gives her… exactly what her twitching body’s been craving. 🥵

I'm so glad you all enjoyed the thought of this as much as I did because I've been dying to expand on it 😵‍💫 (Part 1 here)

I like to imagine by that stage, he's absolutely desperate too though. He's got to feel your sweet little pussy clench and flutter around him, contracting so tight every time you cum that he swears it's going to be the end of him.

He's been too hard for too long, buried inside your body and he swears he's never felt you this wet or this hot before. It's been fucking luxurious, forcing you to cum against his fingers, feeling how your body's natural reaction is to coax him to drain his balls into you but that alone isn’t enough. He needs more than that.

He wouldn't admit it to you but he can't take any more. His balls feel like they're fizzing; overfull and beyond ready to flood your waiting, overstimulated body.

He arranges you gently, laying you on your front because he doesn't trust your trembling arms to support you. "That's it, good girl." He coos, hearing you whimper and sob pathetically because he needs to slip out of you to slide a pillow under your hips.

"You've made such a mess." He groans, taking a second to appreciate the delicious, inviting, slick little cunt he's about to indulge in. "You're dripping, sweetheart. God, I just know there's no way I'm going to be able to pull out."

His huge hands are gripping your hips and with one sharp, brutal thrust, he's back inside you and you both sob pathetically at the feeling of your bodies being joined again. This is exactly what you've needed but you don't have the words to tell him that. All you can do is whine and will your body not to cum again so soon.

"I meant. What I said earlier." He punctuates his sentence with soft groans, drawing back until he almost slips out of you before pounding back in.

He leans forward, tilting your chin up, making sure you can see the way he's fucking you in the mirror at the end of the bed.

"I love you. And I don't want you to forget that." He sounds sincere, one hand trailing up from the small of your back to right between your shoulder blades and then back down again. It feels intimate and tender but all that is forgotten by the very next thrust.

"I love you. But for now, you're just a mindless. Little. Drooling. Breedable. Cunt for me." He slows his thrusts down, determined not to cum so soon but it's going to be difficult to last until he gets the first couple of loads out of the way.

"Baby..." You whimper, feeling the tip of his cock nudge against your sweet spot, making you shake from overstimulation.

"I know sweetheart, I know. It's too much. But you're being so good for me. You're so perfect. How have no idea how you feel. So wet and warm and I can feel you fluttering around my cock. It's like you're trying to squeeze every last drop of cum out of me. Is that what you want? Because angel, I'll keep this delicious cunt stuffed full of load after load until I have nothing left to give you."

His thrusts are punishingly fast, thumping against your raised ass, half chasing his orgasm, half holding it back.

"And when I do, I'll remind you just how much I love you. And the baby I'm going to give you tonight."

With that thought, he can't stop himself from cumming, his dick twitching inside you as he shoots thick ropes of his seed right against your cervix. You're so cock-drunk you can only rut yourself millimetres back and forth but that's all you need to send yourself spiralling into another orgasm that leaves you trembling and sobbing.

"Fuck, you want that as much as I do, don't you?" He kisses the back of your neck, breathing you in while letting the euphoric rush subside. He notices he hasn't softened in the slightest despite such an intense orgasm but he knows he needs to be gentle with you for a moment before he can get any rougher.

[most-definitively-a-human]

Digital hugs. Very happy you are further along on your journey.

to me, creative shame and boredom are signs of injury. those feelings don’t arise out of nowhere. if being creative makes you feel so bored and ashamed you stop creating, something Happened.

[chalkrub]

more svanhildr - trying new things, like a brave boy

[teaboot]

you're so like. inspiring. or i wish i could be inspired. you reblog that post with the blue critter and you're like "im glad i was born on this planet". how do i manage to get that mindset. how do i manage to not want the pain to stop at any cost and enjoy what's still possible to enjoy

It's my first time here and I'm never coming back

[pokimoko]

haunting the narrative -> haunted by the narrative -> haunting the narrative -> haunted by

[forgetme-eternally-blissfully]

“So, babysitting?”

Alberu follows after the delinquent. From the record the vice-principal gave him access to, Cale frequently drinks alcohol, he often gets himself into a lot of fights, and he barely passed his classes at the end of the grading period. The teachers never call on him in class, girls and boys avoid him alike, and he is- supposedly- completely intolerable.

Which is why Alberu Crossman, who’s only a little older yet infinitely more mature has been assigned by the principal (his father) to get the troublemaker under thumb. Cale's father is quite wealthy, actually, and since there isn't much known about the successor to the Henituse family... it'd be bad if he had to be expelled.

Cale scowled. “Yes, babysitting, your highness. Please, leave if you must,��� He jeers at Alberu, but internally he thinks, 'No, really. Please leave.' Otherwise, he might get caught in the act.

Of not actually being Cale.

Roksu aims a sour expression at Alberu, who returns it with a more flowery one. Acting as his twin for the day had been easy enough, mainly because being trash is great!- until Alberu Crossman strolled into his lunch period and introduced himself.

He is even following him out of the school to his job. Well, this job is Roksu’s and not Cale’s, but because he can’t ditch work nor can he get glib-tongued Alberu off his tail-

Well shit.

Thankfully, the kids call him hyung. Except Raon, who calls him human. Hopefully Alberu doesn’t look into it too much. If everything goes right, Alberu Crossman will be Cale's problem to deal with tomorrow. As it should have been.

“I didn’t know you liked kids, Cale,” Alberu smiles charmingly, walking side by side with Roksu. “Can you introduce me?” Roksu struggles to not put on his own disarming smile out of spite, instead plastering on a classic Cale Sneer™. It fits on his face perfectly, like he’s playing a character in a play.

They enter the building and ‘Cale’ guides Alberu to a colorful playroom, decked out in toys and a fountain of running water as the centerpiece (A gift from his father, who is still upset that Roksu doesn't visit more often). There’s a tray of fruits and oatmeal on the small table in the corner of the room, except not a soul to be seen. Picking up a bowl of oatmeal and finding the ceramic to still be hot, Roksu almost smiles.

Alberu frowns. Where are the kids he's supposed to babysit?

Roksu tells the empty air, "Come on out."

Three children appear out of nowhere in front of them.

“Hyung!”

“Human! You’re back!”

“Hyung, nya.” On examines Alberu some more.

All of the kids had been revealed the moment that Roksu spoke, as Raon unveiled the invisibility on them.

Raon runs up and grabs Roksu’s hand, who places it on his head, rubbing the black hair comfortingly. “Mm.” Raon beams at the affection.

“Raon, On, Hong,” they each look up at him at the call of their names. “This is Alberu Crossman, he is doing a report on my trashy behavior. Don’t be rude."

All three children become hostile immediately. “He isn't trash!”

On observes Alberu with an intense glare. Raon shifts under Roksu’s hand, his deep blue eyes glinting with magic. Roksu positions him away from the older teen’s view. Raon grips onto Roksu’s pant leg with a vengeance. Hong stares openly, offensive.

Alberu smiles at them.

"I'm visiting with Cale Hyung for today, nice to meet you."

Hong gasps suddenly.

“He-!” On gives her brother a look, and he clamps his hands over his mouth. Alberu feels a deep curiosity, as if something isn’t quite as it seems.

Roksu sighs. It’s going to be a long hour.

At the midway point, Alberu has easily disarmed the children. They look fascinated at the magic he shows them, while Roksu can only rub a palm over Raon’s shoulder as a warning to keep his dragon magic under control. He's still just a child that wants to brag. Everything is going well.

Bang!

“Hey Roksu! How was-“ Cale bursts through the door, bright red hair equipped with a shit-eating grin, wearing clothes far less fancy than his usual. He tenses up, frozen in place when he spots Alberu on the floor, politely sitting "crisscross applesauce" with the children. Roksu narrows a withering glare at his twin.

“… Roksu?”

Alberu looks at ‘Cale,’ sitting next to him, the one he's spent the entire day with, who is trying to send what must be the real Cale into the sun with his eyes.

“Ha… ha?” Cale winces. Roksu wipes his expression from his face.

“Cale-hyung, run! That’s the human’s bad look!” Alberu’s eyes widen as he watches the confirmed real Cale bolt back into the hallway and out of the front door. Alberu whips his head back toward the stranger behind him, who is a perfect replica of the Cale who ran like Hell. Cale has an identical twin?? Since when? Why doesn't he go to school?

Roksu levels an emotionless gaze at Alberu. “Hello, your highness. Don’t mind me.”

Alberu can only watch in astonishment as this stranger walks out of the playroom, with a smooth and deadly gait as he hunts down his twin like a predator would to prey. He recalls the look 'Roksu' gave him and it sends a shiver down the principal’s son’s spine. That gaze held secrets.

Something about this stranger is even more interesting than the sudden appearance of a twin.

On walks up to him, sitting down in his lap and looking into his eyes. “Roksu-hyung will be back soon, nya!” Hong bounds over and sits next to his sister, grinning widely. Raon huffs and looks at the door. He wants his human to come back.

[captainfairygodmother]

You know what I really love that should be explored in even more Merlin fanfics?

Immortal Leon. Like, you've just got Merlin over there sulking about while he waits for Arthur to return. Then there's just Leon, living his best immortal life, doing the most randomest shit known to mankind

[erinwantstowrite]

personally i think the trope of "said something i wasn't supposed to while high on pain meds at the hospital" only works if it's smth actually incomprehensible. down with this trope. that and the whole "speaking out loud but the narrator doesn't know they are" trope. you should legally have to tag that i think. i know this usually happens for characters that would never admit something otherwise but actually there are a billion reasons someone would admit something they wouldn't otherwise. for example: someone else has a bomb-

[necrotic-nephilim]

bruce and alfred: *thinking they managed to tag team jason into staying the night at the manor* 🤡

tim: *just existing as tantalizing eye candy for jason* 😒

jason: 😏

help i love this i'm cackling-

i think it's funnier if Tim also doesn't know and half the fun for Jason is getting to stare down Tim and make Tim wonder what on earth is going through Jason's head. he'd probably assume it's an intimidation tactic, or Jason thinking about all the ways he wants to kill Tim. it's delightful miscommunication of Tim being wary around Jason, always expecting a fight. and Jason damn well knows it, but he does nothing to correct Tim's assumption. He likes seeing Tim tense and ready to throw hands at a moment's notice. Jason just likes seeing what Tim is capable of, knowing how dangerous the little rich kid is. he wants to see how long he can stare before Tim breaks and asks him what his problem is.

and of course, Bruce, Alfred, and Dick are obvious. Cass is curious but not interfering because she just wants to see where this goes. Bruce is so caught up in the happiness of Jason finally playing nice for once pulling his punches and being willing to listen to Bruce that he's overlooking the obvious tension. Jason hasn't actually hurt Tim yet, so Bruce can't get mad for a little staring. he reminds Tim to just not sink to Jason's level.

when Tim does break and he does call Jason out for it, Jason just makes a lewd comment. just to throw Tim off and see how Tim reacts. it sends Tim sputtering and doubting Jason. he calls Jason's bluff and well. we all know how that ends.

[helimir]

Some top tier Caduceus quotes I've been thinking about in these Downfall times. Something about how so much of Ludinus' position seems to rest on revenge. Showing Bells Hells the squabbling of the gods as they debate what to do about Aeor, and asking 'You can just watch bad people get away with it?'

It doesn't matter if the gods were wrong for their choices. Killing them won't bring back Aeor and it won't stop the violence that Ludinus and the Ruby Vanguard have visited on the world. I just don't see what it's for.

[sysig]

You're still standing off to the side. Somehow, center stage has shifted from under your feet without you realizing, and you're standing in the wings, performing to no one.

Starring Role (Patreon)

[hailsatanacab]

Happy Ghouls and Gangs DPxDC Bang event posting week!! Here's what I've been working on for the @dpxdcbigbang 🥰

Summary:

It’s a normal day for Alfred Pennyworth. He spends it taking care of the manor and watching over its inhabitants, just as he does every other day. It’s an exhausting, never-ending task, that he wouldn’t change for the world. But that night, he is confronted by a stranger in his rooms with a copy of every single soul-binding contract he’s signed for the protection of his family. The new Ghost King wants to update his terms and conditions.

Alfred POV, Ghost King Danny, with some Post-Vivisection goodness and only a little (a lot) of blood and gore and medical fun, but that's for later. Not for the squeamish, please check the tags!!

Snippet under the cut!

It’s a normal day for Alfred Pennyworth.

He wakes up early enough to be ready to greet Master Duke with breakfast when he shambles into the kitchen, he cleans, he greets the rest of the manor’s residents when they finally make it downstairs, he cleans, he goes down to the cave to rouse Master Tim from another sleepless night, he cleans.

It’s a quiet day, or as much as one can be when the place he calls home is filled with vigilantes.

He drops off Masters Damian, Tim, and Duke at school and uses the rest of the trip to pick up some groceries for dinner. Coq au vin tonight, he thinks, it’ll be perfect for the changing of the seasons. A mushroom and lentil substitute for Master Damian will do lovely.

The rest of the day is spent preparing the meal and doing a spot of gardening before it’s time for the school run again. He can’t help but smile fondly as he listens to them needle and tease each other, only stepping in when it starts to become too pointed.

Yes, it’s a normal day for Alfred Pennyworth. It’s at night when it all changes.

There’s a ghost waiting for him in his room. 

A soft glow emanates from the creature’s vaguely transparent body and a crisp frost creeps slowly across the floor, sparkling in the darkness like diamonds.

“Mr. Pennyworth?” it says, the voice bouncing off the walls so that it sounds like hundreds of beings instead of one.

Fear squeezes at his heart and the air in the room turns dark and heavy, so that Alfred struggles to breathe. His mouth is dry, his head is swimming, and he’s not entirely sure if he’s going to survive the night.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Smell Check [Easy: Failure]

MDZS Disco Elysium AU part 1 (part 2 - part 3)

[liatai]

Question!

Neurodivergent peeps of Tumblr, I have a question.

I know that "nonverbal" or "selectively mute" are specific terms that mean "I cannot force words out no matter how hard I try," so... is there a term for "I can speak if I have to, but right now it requires extra energy?"

Like, I'm autistic. I have times where I can speak and even hold conversations, but stringing a verbal sentence together takes effort, the same kind of effort lifting a heavy load with your body would but in your mind. I can be perfectly eloquent and verbose in text when this happens, and sometimes I'll even make some of the limited signs I know in ASL without an issue, but speaking aloud uses up all my mental RAM and I can feel the metaphorical fans of my mind-computer whirring in overdrive. X3;

It's exhausting, too. Usually if I've been verbally social for a while, that's when it kicks in.

I can understand spoken words just as well as other times when this happens, as long as I don't have to speak to reply. If I have to speak, the mental effort and stamina needed to do it tends to push details aside in an endeavor to save processing power. ^^;

I know autism is a spectrum, and I'm hoping someone might have a name for this "not QUITE nonverbal but verbal words are VERY hard right now" feeling ^^; "Partially nonverbal" or "partially selectively mute" doesn't seem quite right.

Help?

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[viperwhispered]

Rest

Guess what? I've got more Jamil x reader for y'all. You can also find this on ao3. No warnings, just 866 words of kinda fluffy(?) caretaking stuff with gender-neutral reader.

At this point, you know Jamil’s schedule almost as well as he does. So, when you have the chance, you head to Scarabia’s kitchen, hoping to spend some time with Jamil while he and the other students prepare dinner. 

However, when you enter, it takes you but a moment to notice Jamil’s uncharacteristic fumbling and the tired look in his eyes. The way Jamil’s chopping the vegetables has you worried about him cutting himself with that knife he’s usually so adept with, and it seems it’s only force of habit that’s keeping him on track.

You frown, and when your eyes meet Jamil’s, you can already see him put his guard up.

So he knows what state he is in, huh? And still, here he is.

It seems Jamil is reading your thoughts, all of him telling you drop it before any words are even said.

At least he still lets you lean in and give a quick kiss to his cheek in greeting.

“Hello love. Do you still have a lot on your agenda for today?” you ask, keeping your tone low for at least some semblance of privacy in the busy kitchen.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” is the response you get.

Of course.

It takes a little more pestering before Jamil actually answers your question. Your lips purse. That list is far too long to your liking.

You take a moment to think, juggling your own plans and to-do list against the urgency of the things Jamil mentioned.

“Will Kalim be eating from that?” you ask, pointing at the food Jamil is preparing.

“Yes.”

“Alright, I won’t be touching that one, then. I’ve gotta do a few things but I’ll be back when you’re done here.”

“Don’t,” Jamil says with a glare, clearly aware of what you’re thinking.

Yet even his disapproving look doesn’t have the usual weight behind it.

“Yes. I will,” you say firmly, even as your heart curls inwards with another bout of concern.

Really, when did he get so tired?

And how did you not notice it earlier?

You leave the kitchen before Jamil can protest further, hurrying through the dorm corridors to find Kalim.

Soon you have an enthusiastic – and concerned – supporter for your plans. You have Kalim point out a few reliable Scarabia students to help with a few of the most urgent matters Jamil mentioned – cleaning up the common areas, delivering some paperwork to Crowley, preparing some dorm-wide notices – while you see to Kalim getting his school supplies in order for the following day. You even recruit a couple of third years to help Kalim with his homework.

You’ll see to the rest tomorrow – after all, you do also have a boyfriend to look after.

Your conversation over dinner can hardly be called anything else than an argument – despite Kalim’s best attempts at acting as a moderating force between you two. It is very tempting to ask Kalim to tell Jamil to take the rest of the day off – it’s not like Jamil would be willing to openly disobey a direct order. Still, you really don’t need to remind Jamil of his position on top of everything else that you’re already doing more or less against his wishes.

Eventually, however, Jamil’s had a square meal, the most urgent things on his to-do list are being taken care of, and you’ve managed to drag him to his bed.

“I really wish you wouldn’t push yourself so hard,” you murmur, your arms wrapped tightly around Jamil. You’re telling yourself you really do just want to cuddle, to offer some respite to Jamil. Still, there might also be a part of you worried that if you were to let go, he’d just jump up and get back to working himself to the bone.

Yet, for all his protestations, just the fact that you’ve gotten Jamil to lay down with you speaks volumes of his current exhaustion.

“I can’t just leave my duties, albi. You know this.”

“Making yourself too indispensable, is what you’re doing,” you protest.

Oh, you know it’s not so simple. Not with his background, not with all the expectations and assumptions.

But sometimes you really wish it would be.

Jamil merely scoffs in response to your words.

Still, it is undeniable that he is slowly beginning to relax in your arms, slowly bringing his head closer to yours. His eyes are starting to flutter, too.

“I will still need to help Kalim with his homework, at the very least.”

You wonder who he is trying to convince more, you or himself.

“Amin and Khalil are helping him. They’re basically top of their classes, aren’t they? I’m sure they’ve got it.”

Still, Jamil frowns.

You sigh. He really is not letting go, is he?

“Do you want me to go supervise?” you ask.

And leave you, unsaid yet hanging there right after your words.

“Don’t,” Jamil eventually says, the word barely more than a breath.

It seems he has accepted his fate.

You softly caress Jamil’s hair, listening to his softening breathing.

And when you wake up, wholly unaware of having been lulled to sleep in the first place, it’s to the lightest of touches from Jamil’s fingers.

Tagging @diodellet @twstgo @crystallizsch @jamilvapologist @jamilsimpno69 as per request If you'd like to be tagged for any future works, let me know!