#use your tongue

[wensdaiambrose]

Inspired by the bubble gum cotton candy flavor burst ice cream I got last night, our Did You Know Fact of the day is...

Did you know that you can cure brain freeze by warming the roof of your mouth by rubbing your tongue over it back and forth?

[jazz-downtown]

One of the most truly disgusting cultural differences between America and the UK that I've noticed is that the UK is perfectly fine sticking your god damn dirty fingers in your mouths to pick your teeth IN THE MIDDLE OF A MEAL while you're talking to me.

I truly can not understand why, and almost everyone around me does it. It makes me not want to eat with people.

[lovethemalephysique]

[jewelielie-art]

I love exploring post-canon. Almost as much as I love bestowing my quirks onto Siffrin.

[lovethemalephysique]

[rottengurlz]

"my jugular misses your teeth." 🩸

a collab with @kashisun 🔪

[starry-bi-sky]

Clone^2 - Separation Strikes

"Why do I have to go?" Damian asks, surly and accent-thick, it sounds more like a demand and a whine at the same time. Sitting on the kitchen table with his arms crossed, in a green t-shirt that Danny bought him at a whim when he was at a thrift shop, and black shorts, he's never looked more like a kid. There's a little backpack leaning against the table leg, Damian begrudgingly picked it out when they went shopping.

His English has grown in leaps and bounds since Danny found him -- er, or more accurately; since Damian was spat out in front of him. -- and very little did they have to use the translator on Danny's phone these days.

Which meant one thing: Damian can start attending school comfortably now. And 'go' was the Amity Smiles Child Care Center. Danny and Jazz went as kids until they were twelve, and Mom and Dad actually managed to convince the center director to let Damian enroll for the summer.

And it was summer; Damian starts today.

"Because," Danny says, trying and failing to hide the smile pulling on his face, his heart warm and soft, and also laughing at Damian's expense; "being cooped up in the house all day isn't good for you, and you're starting school in the Fall. And, in Jazz's words: you need to have interactions with other kids your age for the benefit of your social development. And besides, it's only for the morning."

Damian's nose scrunches up, and his eyes roll so violently that for a moment, Danny thinks about joking that he'll get his eyes stuck like that. He holds his tongue; his little brother already looks like he's five seconds away from committing an act of violence.

"I don't need social interaction." Damian sneers, his cheek in his hand; a neverend pool of pride. "I am--"

"The Blood of the Demon Heir, better than everyone else." Danny cuts off, waving his hand in dismissive circles, his voice mockingly deep. Damian's brown skin darkens in embarrassment, and he scowls at Danny. "I know, bud. But Jazz is right, -- don't tell her I said that, -- you should be around kids your age."

Especially when he starts First Grade in the Fall. Honestly -- Danny was a little nervous to send him to the center. Damian's long since cut the habit of trying to kill or otherwise maim people, his palms ache-burn with gentle reminder, but his tongue was as sharp and as cutting as his sword. He still struggles with trying to quell it when he's upset. Vicious child-weapon that he once was, and will never be again.

Danny knows that it comes from a place of fear and defense, that Damian lashes out because that's what he's been taught. That at the end of the day, he doesn't really mean what he says, and he's learning to express himself better. But the other kids don't know that, and kids can be unforgiving and cruel.

Danny just...

His slow beating heart sighs, melancholy settles behind his lungs.

He doesn't want Damian to be outcasted. He doesn't want him to be alone.

Not like he was.

Damian sneers again, but says nothing, his shoulders crawling up to hide his ears like a turtle receding into his shell. Danny watches him silently, leaning against the kitchen counter with his own arms crossed. The clock hanging on the wall ticks in their ears -- it's almost time to go.

He watches Damian, careful, and so he sees it when his little brother's stone-shell pride and petulance shudders, and cracks. The darkened furrow of Damian's brows weakens, and for a moment, slants back.

Ah, Danny thinks, his own shoulders slumping. Epiphany washes over him, and his sad-heart soothes in warm understanding. So that's what it is.

His head tilts, and his hair spills over his shoulders, messy and fluffy, tickling his neck. Some of his bangs fall into his face. "Hal 'ant easabiatan ya habibi?" He asks, voice low and soft. Just as Damian's English has improved, so has Danny's Arabic. He still stumbles over himself some days, and Damian says his accent is trash, but they can have whole conversations now in Damian's mothertongue.

(Danny was incredibly proud of himself for it.)

Damian's face darkens, his blush spreading across the rest of his face, and he ducks his head down. Grown-out curls, black-brown and springy, falls over his eyes. "La!" He yells, loud and indignant, and not at all convincingly. "La 'asheur bialtawaturi!"

He was nervous. Danny can see it now, in the hunch of his shoulders and the tightness of his face, and faintly, he can feel it too. In the ecto-rich air of the Fentonworks House, it thrums, barely-there, like a hummingbird behind his lungs.

Danny can't stop the little, fond smile that forces itself across his lips and upticks the corner of his mouth. "It's okay to be nervous, little brother." He says, he sounds like Jazz when he says that. He doesn't think she'll mind him borrowing the nickname.

He pushes himself off the counter, and Damian refuses to look at him, hiding behind his hair and in his shoulders. It takes three long strides for him to reach the table, and Danny turns, plants his hands on the ledge, and hoists himself up. Right next to Damian.

Damian leans into him easily when Danny's arm wraps around his shoulders and tucks him close to his heart. He can feel his ear against his ribs. Danny hunches over him, resting his chin on Damian's head. "It's so okay to be nervous, actually. I was nervous, Jazz was nervous." He tells him, scratching the blunt edge of his nails across his scalp. "Everyone gets nervous."

"'Ana last aljumiea." Damian mumbles, as small and feeble as he was the night on the OPS Center balcony, realizing that his mom and the League weren't coming for him. Realizing that he was replaceable.

Danny's half-working heart squeezes; in grief, in rage, and his faucet eyes sting. He breathes in carefully, and presses his nose into Damian's hair in a loving faux-kiss. "You're right, you're not everyone." He says, steady and strong, because if he's not a pillar for his family, who else is he?

He can feel Damian's eyes flick up to him, and Danny smiles into his black-brown curls. Tilts his head to squish his cheek against him instead, hand dropping to thumb below Damian's lashes. "You're Damian Fenton," Because the adoption went through a few weeks ago, and he's still riding that high, "You're my baby brother. O' Artist Extraordinaire, Kickass with a Sword, Vegetarian and Wonderful Co-Ghost Hunter."

Damian tries to stifle a smile, and fails. Score! Triumph gathers in Danny's gut, his smile grows wider. He squeezes Damian tight, and only releases him so he can look him in the eyes. "And if anyone gives you a hard time at school, and I mean anyone--"

Danny has bad memories of the teachers looking the other way when the other kids were bullying him, all because he was a Fenton.

And Danny, bleeding heart, bleeding hands, loves his family more than he will ever love himself, will never let Damian experience the same injustice. Not if he can help it.

His eyes narrow, and the buzzy-film of ectoplasm covers his eyes, making them glow, "--You tell me. And as your awesome great big brother-and-technically-dad-but-only-biologically, I will handle it."

Damian, wonderfully made, full of light, his little brother Damian, giggles weakly at him. A sound that's worth it's weight in gold. The scary eyes dissipate, and Danny matches the sound with a cock-eyed, impish grin, dragging Damian into a soul-crushing, too-tight hug. The kind that only annoying older brothers can give. "Got it?"

That gets a proper, if short, laugh out of Damian. He wriggles in Danny's arms, trying to break free. But Danny does calisthenics, his arms are as big as Damian's head, so it doesn't work. "Understood, now, daeni 'adhhab ya 'akhi!"

Danny laughs, loud and bright, and loosens his hold just a smidge, only so he can adjust his grip and hop off the table with Damian still in arm.

"Never!" He crows, hoisting Damian slightly. One eye flick at the clock, and in one quick move, he secures Damian under one arm like a football, and hooks his foot under the strap of his backpack. Kicking it up, he tosses it into the air and catches it with his free hand, and slings it over his shoulder. "Now, to the car, my boy! Before we're late and Mom and Dad get charged."

Damian groans, childish and dramatic and long, but his face is all squished up with a wide grin and glee. Danny can taste his joy beneath his tongue.

"And, if my little pep talk didn't encourage you," He says, reaching the door to the garage, flipping Damian up onto his hip instead. "If you have a good day today, I'll make you bal mithai when you get back."

Like all kids at the promise of sweets, Damian's eyes widen and glitter. Danny loves seeing Damian be a kid, it's his favorite thing in the world. "I will!"

[damsel-loves-machines]

Whipped Cream. Honey. Caramel. Syrup.

Lucifer indulges himself in these delicacies when he pairs them with his favorite snacks.

Apples.

Various apple based desserts.

You.

[lovethemalephysique]

Let's put your 👅 to work on my 🍑

[lovethemalephysique]

Let’s put your 👅 to work on my 🍑

[scoriarose]

The Language of Love

If you are already convinced snakes are incapable of love, this post is not for you. But if you are open to the possibility that maybe they do, and maybe they love us too, this post explores that thought. Perhaps snakes feel it differently, perhaps they feel it the same humans do- though even humans experience love, be it platonic or romantic, differently from individual to individual. Different people also show their love in different ways as well! Yet still even with a divide between species most of us have felt love from our furry and feathered friends. Perhaps our scaly friends are also telling us they love us, we just might not understand.

When I first got my girl Scoria, if I could tell her only one thing it would be, "I love you." When I held her, I wondered if she understood how much I cared about her, and would do anything to protect her. When I pet her, I wondered if she knew how amazing I thought she was and enjoyed spending time with her.

And then I started watching livestreams of wild snakes, and how they act toward each other. (The above still is from Project Rattle Cam!) When the babies see a trusted adult, they slither all over them! How many times had my girl happily slithered all over me going no where in particular? I imagine that my finger petting her soft as a feather was probably quite similar to another snake greeting her in such a way.

Sakura is much more shy, yet wants to form a bond with me. I see it when she fights her fear to vibe with me. Sometimes she'll sit for hours at the edge of her tank nearest me, not wanting to come out, but just be near me.

Snakes like rattlesnakes and garter snakes will vibe peacefully with each other, with baby rattlesnakes sleeping near the adult rattlesnakes they trust to keep them safe.

Perhaps, when our shy snakes sits with us, facing their fears they're saying, "I'm scared, but I want to be closer with you." And maybe when our snakes slither all over us, going nowhere in particular, like their wild counterparts do with each other they're saying, "I'm so happy to see you! You're my favorite to be with!" I wonder if they could tell us one thing it would be "I love you, best friend!" And it's okay, best friend. I love you too, and already know. <3

[obscurae-silvae]

oh Fuckim still thinking abt siblings. ur loser little brother post got me sooo wet omg my hoodie sleeves always smell like weed,,,

little sib walking around the house in shorts and a crop top ‘it’s just too hot for anymore clothes! it’s ok you can take ur shirt off too if u want!’ parents don’t say anything about it bc you’re family you used to take baths together as kids, hanging out in clothes that cover more than a swimsuit is fine!

little sib constantly bending over and laying in big brother’s lap, pretending to sleep so they can drool on big bro’s cock thru his jeans. n nuzzle in w happy little sighs bc big brother just smells soooo good.

little sib getting high and giggly sneaking into big sib’s room to ‘wrestle’ and big bro knows this is a bad idea but little sib is insistent and somehowthey end up on the floor w big sib’s hand on little sib’s lower stomach,,, n little sib is whining and bucking their hips but they definitely don’t want big brother to leave

(shshshddd no clue how to end this lol -🪶)

God that's so hot.

Little sib whining while big bro thrusts into them, their back uncomfortably pressed into the wood floor. But little sib's big sib feels so good they can only moan as big bro hits all their deepest parts.

Competent big brother who pulls out, leaking precum and slick still connecting his cock to your cunt. "We need a condom." He breathes, coming somewhat to his senses.

But loser little sib just wraps their legs around his waist. "I want another little sibling, maybe a cute sister..." They whine, wiggling their exposed cunt at him.

And despite knowing better, he just promises himself he'll pull out as he slams back into their pretty lil cunt

[rickswh0r3]

this song with him.

taglist : @colt-python @narcissismand @epilepsywarrior8787 @murdadixon @ririi-3 @walker-bait-1973 @versatilehater @chibsgirl143

[pines4thetwin]

So I've got this idea of Stan with a tongue piercing (lets be honest he's had a bunch of piercings, a lot of them just closed over time or he had to take em out cause he couldn't take care of them)

Anyways, Ford finding out because he sees it glint in Stans mouth and the first time he thinks its a trick of the light but eventually he realizes and asks Stan about it and Stan brushes him off.

All this to say, Ford gripping the back of Stans head and commanding him to open up then getting frustrated when Stan doesn't respond quick enough and just gripping stans jaw and forcing his thumb into Stans mouth, pressing his tongue down, to pry it open so he can see for himself since Stan wants to be stubborn about it.

[fairy-verse]

“Killer.”

The call of his name had been so soft and sweet he hadn’t believed it possible to come from Nightmare himself, least of all on such a bright day as the firstborn fairy of autumn rarely wished to come out during daybreak, and yet as he turned towards the great tree which gave Nightmare’s underground nest its structure, he came to see the firstborn sitting upon a raised root.

Stars and wishes alike, he couldn’t prevent his face from slackening as awe and disbelief painted itself across his whole skull. Nightmare had always been beautiful, from the moment he laid his hidden eye lights upon him, and long before that as well, but now, as he stared in shameless wonder, he couldn’t even begin to set words upon the emotions that racked and destroyed his soul from within. Clad in near-transparent silks of shimmering iridescent colours, Killer took in the sight before him, wishing he could permanently burn it into his wings so he may look upon it over and over again.

Nightmare smiled, a soft blush of colour blooming across his cheekbones.

Killer had a visible reaction to it; his soul nearly curved across his chest.

“Months of courting and unabashed flirting, and a simple dress and a smile leaves you at a loss for words?” Nightmare questioned, clearly taking a lot of pleasure from the current situation at hand. It wasn’t often he managed to render his ever-chattering fairy silent, but now, as Killer stared with open admiration, Nightmare found himself enjoying it; immensely.

Killer couldn’t let that taunt linger in the air.

“Simple? Why, my queen; the silver moon in my darkened sky, there is nothing that could ever be simple about you,” he said, regaining his composure as he approached and knelt before Nightmare. He took the hanging silks into his hand, keeping eye contact with his queen, and kissed it tenderly. “Don’t judge me so heavily for admiring the only light in my everlasting night.”

Nightmare’s blush darkened and he turned his head to the side. “Flatterer,” he said, though his voice lacked any bite. Killer had struck a tender spot, one that was easily softened under his warm caress.

“Only for you, my queen.”

Thank you once again, @aoi-kanna, for making my fairy Nightmare stunning beyond words. I just love how he seems so flirty in this illustration, but really, he must steal Killer’s words from his mouth every now and then. He cannot allow his handsome red fairy to fly around unpunished for all his brazen proclamations of love and devotion. Killer, for his part, will for once keep his mouth shut about this so-called punishment. How could he ever complain about this?

[bittsandpieces]

does dick size matters to you? 5 inch is small? easily deepthroatable?

I've answered basically this exact ask so many times so here's the final permanent answer: five inches is average. It also doesn't matter if your dick is small, anyone can be equally good or bad at sex. I've had both great and terrible sex with people with big dicks and people with small dicks. It. Does. Not. Matter.

But addressing the last bit specifically, "easily deepthroatable", I'd like you to go find a five inch object to shove in your throat all the way to the base right now and tell me if it's easy. Porn has corrupted your brain into thinking gag reflexes are much more flexible than they are and I'm here to tell you that most people's bodies will not allow any degree of deepthroating to happen regardless of dick size