#couple days old

[cherryyybelle]

✨MEN AND MINORS DNI✨

[lonelyinkcap]

hi sorry im. here idk i know youre not here you dont have to answer anything idk i hope its ok if i hang out here for a bit

my brains been pretty weird today i keep trying to write i keep failing do you ever write to yourself? i used to hate it in fifth grade my teacher asked every student to keep a diary, for some reason. i dont think i made it past a day i have one from seventh grade with a couple pages filled out mostly surface level things, my hobbies, my interests, current school drama. things i thought would be interesting to future me. nothing too personal sometimes id write paragraphs and paragraphs of posts on my vent blog and then just. delete them. like. id finish writing and then just close the tab it felt really cathartic, but at the same time i half wish id saved them so i could go back and read them, even if i know i wouldnt like what i was reading im not even sure if thisll end up in your inbox i guess if youre seeing this then you know the answer i dunno i write a lot of letters to myself. i never noticed how much i enjoyed them. did your school ever force you to write those "time capsule" letters? i tried looking for one that i wrote in seventh grade, that was returned to me at the end of eighth. i couldnt find it. im not sure if i lost it or if its just buried somewhere in my drawer of cards i have a time capsule saved on a google doc that i wrote at the end of eighth grade. its supposed to be mailed to me at the end of high school, so i guess having it to look at any time kind of defeats the purpose. but its pretty surface level stuff anyway, like i said. just interests and things. im fairly sure i wrote extra on the physical copy? maybe just so the teachers couldnt look at it. i'm not sure. i wrote one to myself a couple weeks ago. im not sure if its more like a diary entry or a time capsule. i always tend to get existential with that kind of thing but, this note is. particularly suicidal. i suppose as im writing this im realizing that i probably dont want to send this. and you probably dont wanna read it either. so i amend my previous statement. if youre reading this, its because i misclicked and accidentally sent this ask instead of copy pasting it and saving it to my drafts where it would rot and die. i have a couple drafts there. ones i... dont think id want you to see. i guess.

my cursor naturally drifts closer to the "ask" button, as if betraying me, its weilder. its tomorrow now, it has been for a bit. i wonder if i'll stay up long enough for you to wake up? sorry, i dont know where i was going with any of this. and since ive abandoned any hope of sending this to you. i guess ill stop here. im sorry.

[chloesimaginationthings]

Do any of you remember Scott's games before FNAF?

[saturnvs]

two headed calf and his mother

[the-king-of-lemons]

?????????????????????????????

connoreatspants number 1 political streamer in the world

[jesuistrestriste]

Sage hear me out...

Divorced dilf art who calls his younger gf mommy

art stays cooped up in the house all day—everyday—when you’re out at your hot new job.

he thinks about all the guys your age who probably ogle you and try to make passes at you, not knowing that you’ve got a man pushing 40 waiting at home for you with dinner and a pair of warm, strong open arms.

sigh.

when you do get home, he’s there to greet you (as always). he walks over and holds you close; kissing your cheek, and then your lips and your neck. each one soft and sweet and attempting to wipe your mind of any flirtation from younger men that you may or may not have endured throughout the afternoon.

“hi,” he whispers, and you slide your fingertips down his lower back, making him tremble like a wet kitten.

“hey, baby,” you hum in return. you’re shorter than him, and so when he leans his weight into you his forehead naturally falls into your shoulder. he smells like warmth and outdated cologne and need.

he mouths at your neck in the next moment, his hands sliding to lovingly cup your waist, “i missed you so much.. can i have you now?” he breathes out, his voice shaking and pleading. you feel something thick and warm press into your hip from inside his sweatpants.

and you chuckle and shake your head. he bites his bottom lip to stifle a petulant whimper.

“i missed you too,” you nip at his ear, “but i need you to use your manners if you want something from me.”

he stiffens for a moment before he stumbles forward a bit, taking you with him and gently pushing your back up against the door. “i’m sorry.”

the apology spills from his lips with an earnest desire to make his obedience known. he’d never want to disappoint you. you’re all he has these days.

“can i… can i please have you now?”

a breath. a shake of your head. a rock of his hips against your body followed by a sorrowful, begging moan.

“no?” he shifts against you, his body aching for yours.

“you’re forgetting something, Art.”

it only takes a moment for him to process your words before he’s mumbling a slurry of “i’m so sorry”s into your neck. but apologies only go so far, don’t they? he needs to correct his behavior. he needs to show you that he knows what you want from him.

“please…” he whispers, “please, mommy..”

the honorific rolls off his tongue like honey, heavy and sweet. it hangs in the air between you two and then you let out a low chuckle, “much better.”

“mommy,” he breathes out again, his erection involuntarily pulsing against your body through his clothes, “mommy, mommy, mommy—ngh“

his tone grows more desperate with each mumbling of the word; higher in pitch and more urgent. your hands move up to stroke his short blonde hair, and then you whisper into his ear.

“what do you want?”

god, what doesn’t he want? he wants your hand down his pants, your perfect cunt wrapped around his unworthy cock, your mouth, your lips, your tits. everything.

but he knows you. he knows that this is a trick question. you’re phrasing it like you’re going to give him something, a treat—a reward, but it’s a bit of a trap.

there’s a right and a wrong answer here. pick the wrong one, and he’s in for a night of painful orgasm denial (coupled with a ruined one to end the evening).

but luckily, art is smart. he knows what you want to hear.

“i.. i wanna eat mommy out.”

you pull back gently from him; and judging by the look that spreads over your face when he says that, he picked the right response.

you smile, and then your hands slide from his hair to his shoulders. in an instant, art finds himself being pushed down to the floor in front of you. he can’t help but scoot forward and shove his boner against your ankle, rutting himself into your soft skin as he dribbles precome in his briefs.

you lean back against the door, hiking up your skirt, before you’re looking down to him expectantly.

“don’t make me do all the work, baby,” you practically purr.

art’s hands scramble up your thighs to your panties, which he peels off of your sticky core with wide eyes, letting the thin fabric garment fall to pool at your heels. you giggle.

you kick them off to the side, feeling your boyfriend’s hands clutched around your legs. you sling a leg over his left shoulder, spreading your folds for him to see, and he wastes no time in parting his lips and engulfing your heat with his mouth.

you groan, letting your head loll back, and you move your fingers—letting them wander to the back of his hair once more to push his face further against you. you grind on his eager tongue, feeling him flick it over your clit as he whimpers and suckles. what a slut.

his baby blues look up to you with weighted lids, lapping at your cunt like it’s something he’s been starved of for years. his pupils dilate intensely as he stares up at you like you’re a god; something holy and unreal. and when you shake over his mouth’s ministrations, getting close, he lets out a long, drawn-out whine into your core.

he’s murmuring something that sends vibrations up your spine from the coil deep in your gut. it’s hard to make anything out when he’s drowning in you and loving it, but you can decipher bits and pieces.

“please, mommy”

“come in my mouth, mommy”

“give it all to me, mommy”

“i can take it, mommy”

you’re everything he’s ever dreamt about. you bend his perception of time and space and reason and logic. how could a sweet, beautiful, young thing like you ever want a washed-up, older athlete like him?

he prays that you don’t only like him for his money, and then he closes his eyes and mouths at your sensitive bud. he drools all over it like a sick dog, his brows pinching up as he moans out incoherent pleas for you to finish.

and holy fuck, you come hard.

a strangled cry jolts out of you as your back arches, mixing with a helpless sob from art, and then you absolutely soak his tongue with your juices. it gushes all over his face and he swallows as fast as he can; hell, he nearly chokes on it.

“ffffuck! art! oh my god, good boy, good boy, such a good boy!”

you rock over him until your orgasm recedes, and you pull his head back from you shakily by your tender hold on his hair. strings of your slick cling to the lower half of his face and the tip of his nose; a lewd squelch echoing out as he’s forcefully disconnected from your body. a dazed smile graces your lips and you peer down to watch as art’s hips shake against the hardwood floor and a dark stain appears at the front of his sweats. it’s a pathetic sight, really.

but you watch him moan softly and keep his gaze trained on you as he wipes his chin messily with the back of his hand.

“was i good?” he whispers, like he’ll cry if you say no.

he needs to hear you say it when he’s not lost in the throes of your climax.

your chest is still heaving while you try to slow your labored breaths, but you lean down anyways and meet his lips with yours. you taste yourself on his tongue. he shudders and winces.

you pull back, your bottom lip brushing his.

“so good, baby..”

art kisses the corner of your mouth softly, just once. he’s melting into you.

he loves you. but he swallows that down for now. he opts to murmur out something that’ll sum up everything he feels in a more palatable manner. something that makes him seem less desperate to keep you all to himself for as long as you can tolerate him.

something that he’s earnestly dying to say.

something that he knows you deserve to hear.

“thank you.”

[kagooleo]

even the biggest beasts need a little love and care when they've evolved (watch your head!)

[sokkas-therapist]

NOBODY BOTHER ME the writers of the Boiling Rock episodes said that Sokka and Zuko fight like an old married couple

[cherryblossomfaewilds]

"i don't believe in god otacon so you're the only one to whom i can pray" hideo kojima set this in front of everyone's eyes in the year of our lord 2008 i can barely believe mgs4 is real

[allboutheyaoi]

♥♥♥

By Old Xian

[nutellasoap]

Dsaf 3 spoilers raarghh

Song lyrics from Burning pile by mother mother

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Dsaf still holds a dear place in my heart, thank you directdoggo for your amazing work🫶

(Click for better quality what da hell happened to it)

[bloobydabloob]

Alternative hairstyle ideas for Roxy

[originalartblog]

does this count as angst or

companion piece for this Storm Bringer AU here

[fairsweetlonging]

i'm so weak for original luo binghe/shen yuan where he succeeds in stealing bingmei's shizun to have for himself.

maybe they cross over in the dream realm (like in the punishment protocol), and he sees this other version of shen qingqiu, standing beside the koi pond of qing jing peak, looking calm and healthy and alive, and different, just slightly different. and when this shen qingqiu looks up and sees binghe, he doesn't sneer and attack like in nightmares, nor does he try to run like in the punishment dreams—he smiles. he smiles at binghe, and calls his name. he looks... happy, to see him.

confused, yet intrigued, bingge indulges a little by humoring this weird dream version of his old shizun, meeting him by the pond, and while it's the same face it's not the sharpness of an ice cold beauty, it's warm and soft and tender, even more so when shen qingqiu plucks a peach blossom from the tree and tucks it in binghe's hair, when he leans over and presses the pretty curve of his mouth against binghe's cheek, when he calls him "binghe" instead of "beast".

at first bingge thinks this must be a dream; he's a mere spectator, saying little to nothing at all, watching quietly as shen qingqiu chatters about some beast that liu qingge brought him (bingge was a bit surprised to hear that name, he died so long ago), sitting down with him, not moving when shen qingqiu leans against his side.

then shen qingqiu disappears, and bingge is alone again. he isn't sad, or even angry, he's just confused. he usually has full control over his dream realms, what just happened? but then again, he usually enjoys tormenting shen qingqiu, so he hadn't interrupted the man before, and after he realized it was different, he never bothered changing it. this might be just a fluke?

it happens again. shen qingqiu is a little more quiet, this time, a little tired. they sit together at the pond's edge again, shen qingqiu leaning against him, and this time bingge takes him into his arms, just to see what happens. shen qingqiu reacts positively, snuggling closer, but he shouldn't. this has never been something bingge wanted, nothing he ever even thought about, it makes no sense.

then somewhere somehow he realizes that through xin mo he's transporting a different shizun from a different world to his dream realm, and when he realizes that somewhere out there there is a shizun that smiles and laughs and cares for him, loves him.... he wants it.

so he does what he always does when he sees something he wants: he takes it.

next time they're together in the dream realm, he's prepared. he silently hooks his claws into shen qingqiu's (ridiculously unprotected) consciousness, using xin mo's power to track him down and create a rift. he lands in a cosy little bedroom, with a large bed and trinkets on the shelves and a ton of books. shen qingqiu is still asleep, curled around a large pillow but alone. whoever he thinks bingge is in his dreams isn't here. and well, if they're not here to protect him, clearly they don't care enough to keep him (bingge would never leave him out in the open like this, his sweet, naive, stupid shizun, laid out like a treat for anyone to snatch up). he makes sure shen qingqiu is deep asleep before he lifts him up and takes him back, closing the rift behind him.

[canisalbus]

i've returned for 2 seconds to tell you that they're not leaving my head. (sort of unrelated but i've been thinking as well. what if vasco died before machete ? what would go down)

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[911bts]

911onabc: Honorable mention for "excellent wrap, sir". 🫡

The 3-part premiere event of #911onABC is now available to stream in full on Hulu.