#bon appetit

[treibholz-des-universums]

opla season 2 as textposts (x)

this will take you to part 3 since it doesn't show up in the tag the incorrect one piece tweets i made a few years ago

[aluminumneedles]

I'm knitting in the corner at a party

and guys my age stop by to tell me I remind them of their aunt, of their grandmother. This is a compliment and I take it as such. They confess to having tried crochet once, and I smile. They get back in line for the bathroom.

I'm knitting in the corner at a party and a queer woman sits on the floor next to me, arranges her skirt, and smiles up at me. (I try not to blush.) She asks me all the questions on her mind about my craft and I answer them, hands still moving. We swap yarn sources. She doesn't stay, but she knows where to find me.

I'm knitting in the corner at a party and everyone knows where to find me when they need a minute, when socializing is too much and the music is too loud and they need to catch their breath. They pretend to be checking in on me, which is sweet, but I can see the relief in their eyes the moment they stop performing for a house full of people. They sit down and tell me things and all the while they never take their eyes off my hands.

The party has wound down and I'm still knitting and the hosts, two guys in their twenties, thank me for "helping to curate the vibe." I had no idea that's what I was doing. I leave the party having forgotten to drink anything and without that woman's number but with many rows added to my top-down raglan sweater. I call it a night, and a good one.

[bluemuffin-draws]

Coltland twins but they are sisters

Print

[seoksoonwoo]

MINGYU X CALVIN KLEIN The Hollywood Reporter Behind The Scenes

[aemelia]

sickness @merthurmicrofic // animals @merlinbingo

Robert Frost // Hunger, Florence Welch // The Night There, translated Palestinian poem by Mahmoud Darwish // Olivia, Dorothy Bussy // unknown // Let Dead Dogs Lie, Silas Denver Melvin // Gnaw at the Heartbeat, Wenyi Xue // War of the Foxes, Richard Siken // Поэма Конца (Poem of the End), Марина Цветаева // Wild Geese, Mary Oliver // Tribute to Catherine O’Hara, Macaulay Culkin

[toyastales]

Garlic-Glazed Surf and Turf!

[martiniluvr]

a new batch of blurbs fresh out of the oven. this time starring all four of this blog’s favourite dc men 🙂‍↕️

warnings: graphic, nasty, plotless, overstimulating oral sex (fem receiving). that’s it that’s the post

dick grayson eats you out for his own pleasure. he loves it when you sit on his face and use his mouth to make yourself cum again and again and again, until your thighs are shaking around his head and you’re practically smothering him. he locks you in place with his strong arms so you can’t escape, and he’s not satisfied until you’re dripping down his chin and cheeks. if you look down, you’ll meet his blue eyes already fixed on you, crinkled at the corners from the stupid grin on his lips as you wind your fingers into his dark hair and ride out another orgasm on his tongue. it’s in that moment, when your hips start bucking wildly and your thighs clamp around his head, that he gets just lightheaded enough to succumb to his own release. he paints his chiseled abdomen in ropes of hot cum through a series of loud moans muffled against your pussy, his twitching cock never once having been touched by you.

jason todd eats you out like he’s in a trance. he has you holding your own legs back, your hands hooked behind your knees to keep your thighs apart as he licks through your folds in wet, hungry strokes, unfazed by your needy whines or your attempts to cover yourself up. you can try to close your legs, but that just earns you a sharp spank to the delicate skin of your inner thigh as he plunges his tongue deeper into your cunt, coating his face in your arousal. when you cum, he doesn’t slow down—fuck, he actually speeds up, pushing his lips against you and sucking your sensitive nub rhythmically until your moaning verges on screaming. it’s only after you slump back into the mattress, spent and trembling, that he pries his lips off you with a wet pop and a debauched groan. his fingers slide through your folds and his lidded eyes follow them, admiring the glossy mix of your cum and his saliva sliding down your slit. you let your legs drop, shuddering in anticipation, knowing this is just foreplay to him.

bruce wayne eats you out to teach you a lesson. you can hardly think with your ass in the air and your face pressed into his monogrammed pillow, but he doesn’t care. his large hands caress your lower back softly despite his relentless assault on your aching, overworked clit, and his rumbling moans against your pussy send vibrations rattling through you that only make you wetter. he knows exactly what he’s doing and the pleasure is almost too much to bear, but you don’t forget for a moment this is your punishment for the stunt you pulled earlier. you cry out as he sucks your clit harshly, grazing it with his teeth and coaxing out another unwilling climax from you as you helplessly babble his name. turns out that flirting with the intern who hit on you at wayne enterprises wasn’t nearly as amusing to bruce as it had been to you—and now he needs to remind you that he can do things to you that some fresh college graduate couldn’t even dream of.

clark kent eats you out with pure devotion. he’s on his knees in front of you—all 6’5, 240 pounds of him—while you’re leaning against a wall, with one of your legs draped over his broad shoulder and your fingers entwined in his jet-black curls. your dress is bunched around your waist and you’re shaking in his muscular arms as his pink lips work your pussy, like he has to make you cum or he’ll stop breathing. he looks up at you with big, doting blue eyes, moaning into you as his tongue grinds against your clit. all you can muster is his name, but that’s all it takes; within moments, your cunt is spasming for him as your release leaks out of you, and he laps up every last drop. once he’s sure you’re able to stand on your own, he rises to his feet and gently smooths out your dress. you’re too flustered to meet his dimpled smirk, so you fix his shirt collar instead, acutely aware of his large hands trailing up your sides. “clark,” you mumble, a smile tugging at your lips, “you’re gonna be late for work.”

[grimalkinscribbles]

Pov: you’re Keir’s Vesper and he’s half-heartedly trying to get you both back on track after finding a colony of cats. It’s a honey trap shtick, and he’s even dressed for his unfortunate role. He desperately doesn’t want to go.

Take your time with the cats.