⠀ 🗡 𓏏𓏏 ymsu ao3 ⠀ ╋
“ ⠀🧸🐇🦝ㅤ ’’⠀i don't like writing actually
your ─── sweet⠀─── divine.
(⠀ 𝐈𝐕. ⠀) 18+ only; no age in bio = block.
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#𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒; ／ exploration of dark topics; to vary. not responsible for your media consumption.
sometimes when im mad at someone i eat a hot pocket while pretending to be an evil cannibal serial killer out on the loose and im degutting the person im mad at and the bread of the hot pocket is their skin
Do you have any thoughts on JackieNat hate sex? Nat taking Jackie down a peg until she’s a blabbering fucked out needy mess? Jackie grabby hands at Nat like she can’t get close enough? Jackie desperately wanting Nat to do something like mark her so she feels wanted? Nat putting her cigarette out on Jackie’s skin to leave her mark?
it's been a really long time. figure'd i'd get caught up on some asks i've been neglecting. enjoy the words. feel free to fwd me any requests, questions, or more. i'm an open book these days.
🚩 #𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒; ／unhealthy & hate sex, potential dubcon/abuse (?).
--- the first time jackie comes to her, it’s not even midnight. jeff’s car still parked crooked in the driveway, engine ticking as it cools. she’s in tears, ridiculous little earrings streaking her perfect face. nat’s smoking on the back step of the trailer, doesn’t even look up when jackie mutters, "he doesn’t know what he’s doing." nat flicks the ash, points the cigarette between jackie’s perfect knees. "guess we’ll teach him a lesson then, huh?" next thing, jackie’s gripping the wood railing hard, nat’s fingers deep inside her, thumb pressed just right, and jackie’s whispering nat’s name like confession. the porch light flickers. somewhere a dog barks. jackie cries when she cums.
--- jackie's got crucifixion hands every time they tangle. nat pins her wrists to that moldy trailer wall so hard the cheap paneling groans. jackie arches up, all teeth and spitfire, spitting "fucking hate you," between gasps. nat just grinds her thigh higher, feels jackie's cutoff shorts ride up, damp against her jeans. "hate me harder, then, taylor," she breathes into the shell of jackie's ear, tasting sweat and cheap beer, "ain't that hard when your cunt's drippin' for it like a busted faucet." jackie whines like a kicked dog when nat drags a calloused thumb over her clit through the denim.
--- some days jackie wins. she’ll stand in front of a crowd — cafeteria, gym, doesn’t matter — and spit venom, dragging nat’s name through the gutter just to watch her twitch. those nights, nat shows up at her door. “you think they’d still worship their little golden girl if they saw you like this?” she growls. jackie moans, broken and mean. “maybe they’d finally believe god’s real.”
--- jackie begs for it when nat's knuckles split her lip during a scrap over godknowswhat — dumb shit: stolen cigarettes, maybe a sideways look. "do it again," jackie rasps, ruby smear on her teeth making her look feral. "let me keep somethin'." later: nat's back porch, yellow bug light flickering. jackie presses nat's hand over that purple rising bloom on her ribcage. nat scoffs, rolls her eyes skyward like a bored saint — then pulls a winston from her jacket. the sizzle against jackie’s collarbone draws a sound like a screen door hinge in July; jackie trembles hard as a bowstring.
--- nat catches jackie sneaking one of her smokes, late night, cabin floor creaking. instead of scolding, she drags her down by the wrist, forces the filter between jackie’s lips. "inhale," she says, watching her choke on the drag, eyes watering. "see? tastes like me." jackie exhales gray ghosts, chest rising quick, mouth open and wet. “don’t flatter yourself,” she mutters. but she’s already leaning in for another pull, chasing the heat on nat’s tongue.
--- nat’s rough when she wants to be, slow especially when she doesn’t. that night in the back of her car, the sky fat with stars, she ties jackie’s wrists in the old bandana she used to clean oil off her hands. strap sits heavy in her lap, slick from the heat. jackie’s already shaking when nat leans down, mouth tracing the pulse in her throat. “try not to hold your breath,” she says. jackie exhales, a tremor, and the first sound she makes when nat pushes in is equal parts sob and prayer.
jackie’s got one leg over nat’s thigh, breath caught somewhere between begging and cursing. every time she gets close, nat pulls her hand back, lets the air hit that wet heat until jackie’s trembling, boneless. “that’s four times,” nat counts, voice syrup-drawled, unbothered. “you gonna learn yet, or should i make it five?” jackie shakes her head too fast — she doesn’t even know what she’s saying no to anymore. she's almost there, eyes wet, mouth open, the sound in her throat cracked and desperate. and then — gone. nat leans back, lights a cigarette, exhales right into jackie’s gasping mouth. “patience, taylor,” she says. “you keep actin’ like a spoiled brat and you’ll never get to finish.” jackie’s still rocking up into nothing, fingers digging into nat’s wrist, nails leaving marks like punctuation.
omg i just binged through most of your blog and you and your words!! getting me all flustered you talk so sweetly 🥴
the time to respond, you are kindest ... hope hooks are still snagged, i'm unsure of what works to produce, but always makes me grateful when there are such asks. makes me happy and heard, pleases me to no extent that my words touch some hearts.
we shall wait patiently until your return, my champion. you will need your rest. when you return we shall engage in sexually-charged lesbian fighting that ends with no love making but brutal eye contact that says all it needs to until three seasons later.
with love, 🐠
been such a while, i've got more time now ... so chatting can be done with all here. happy to return, missing the beloved. lots of personal mishaps and such .. but here now.
most likely won't be active on this blog for a long while. fics, writing speeds, anything of the sort. have a date coming up. chiyobotland = dead zone (temp).
i hope your partner discovers this post and they are repulsed. you are lustful and gluttonous, like asmodeus and beelzebub into a mike's jersey sub. except for natural oven roasted goodness there is lechery and greed. you are disproved of and you are condemned for life. you will never get anything you want including mike jersey sub and good relations.
a lot of people tell me this when i unlatch my head and let them have a looksie inside. they don't prod, because i tell them not to, and because it hurts. a wrong finger in the wrong part of my brain could mean very painful spasms, or worse yet, a mental rehash of the most embarrassing things that have ever happened to me.
when they have gotten the peek and analysis they have needed, that is when i shut my head and all returns to normalcy.
are you suffering through the horrors of Mother Nature? because I definitely am. I think I’m gonna end up like Snackie after this spring…. is not even summer yet omfg
– 🦷
now responding in summer ... weather's not too awful where i house. think it's the breezes that are doing this area wonders, though. only ever chilly during the night.
writing reqs/asked closed .... until a determined date. been very busy training and chatting and so priorities shifted. fires won't put themselves out.
can & will respond to regular asks in the mean time. expect little to no writing from this account during the meanwhile.
obsessed with good girls who don’t swear until you get them so wet that they can’t help themselves, mumbling fuck fuck fuuuck over and over again as they come undone
THIS IS A POST FROM A LESBIAN NSFT BLOG. CISHET MEN AND MINORS DNI.
whimpering “can i go faster” as i ride her thigh while she’s in the middle of telling me about her interests because her being all smart and passionate makes me wanna cum
my beautious chiyo i have missed you so i chose to binge all the new posts. i apologize for my inactivity, my champion. IT WILL NOT HAPPEN AGAIN. - 🐠
hello tuna sandwich... thank you for your supports. i've been training for the mountains and the clouds and so i've also been away from what is supposed to be tumblr hut is a house. welcome back...
yoohoo. hello. hi. writings and fic works and of the sort will be posted soon... chiyo minions are out of commission and they refuse to work unless i start paying them over 1 cent per hour.
You are my fav yj writer of tumblr !! The way you write lights something in me and inspired me to create my own bots and write my own fics !! Kisses from Brazil <3 - 🍬
candy-moji… many graces to you. makes me smile to hear that i was able to give you that little kicker; i’m sure your works are so wonderful. blessings from the beachy side of america.
wait. how do you imagine the hybrids-jackets?like are we only seeing them with ears and tails????? should I imagine them like a half-furry half-human thing??? or only human with the mind of their animal motif?
lynx!nat made me imagine her like, paws instead of legs (with the stupidly large feet lynxes posses), normal human hands with nails as claws, ears and tail….maybe even a little feline-like nose and pupils…. am i going crazy or something. is my forgotten warrior cat phase taking over my brain again…?
– embarrassingly 🦷
howd-e. all animal-jackets are all interpreted to your own benefit. personally, i see them with ears, tails, eg, with the addition of animal-like others (sharper canines, potentially more body hair, different eye shapes/colors/pupils, whatnot).
rather insightful question. truth be told, sometimes i do not see them with anything at all ... as the animals that are selected can represent them quite humanly, too.
think. i read few warrior cats. but not much. i was more enthralled with 'seekers.' also by erin hunter.
