#j)

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ideas for discourse i came up with

having OCs is bourgeois

people who write erotica should be considered sex workers

only americans believe in aliens

it's misogynist to draw touhou characters with big boobs

the "godzilla" franchise is harmful because it teaches children that they should be afraid of lizards and other animals

feel free to argue about any of these, credit not needed but appreciated

[nilla03]

𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐘’𝐒 𝖥𝖳: 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 𑄻𑄾

𑄻𑄾—“Sit pretty, again,”

You feel it before you even settle—his stomach mouth opens again beneath you, wide and wet and starving, tongue snaking up between your legs like it remembers the shape of your cunt. It flicks up, impatient, like it missed you.

You arch your back instinctively, but his lower hands are already on you—one shoving your hips down, the other spreading your ass to give that greedy tongue everything it wants. Your face is flushed against his chest, sticky with his earlier cum, but you moan loud when the tongue starts lapping at you again, deeper, messier, wetter than before.

And he’s still jacking off.

You can feel the sharp tug of his movements above you—his two top hands, each wrapped around a thick dick, stroking furiously as he watches your body twitch over his mouth. His groans echo through his stomach, vibrating your pussy like a toy.

“You’re fuckin’ sick, y’know that?” he pants, grinning down at you, veins in his neck popping from effort. “Bent over my tongue while I beat my dick like a slut.”

You sob into his skin, but your hips won’t stop rocking. You’re grinding back against that monstrous tongue now, messy and reckless, while it slathers you in hot spit, thrusting in and out of you with obscene sounds.

“Ohhh, that’s it—ride it like a good little toy,” he snarls. “You feel that? My stomach’s fuckin’ moaning for you. Dripping. Bet you’d let me fuck you with it if I had a dick there too.”

Your whole body spasms. That should sound horrifying, disgusting—but your mind’s gone fuzzy with overstimulation and the only thing that comes out is a wrecked little whimper.

“Goddamn,” he groans, both his cocks twitching, leaking as he fists them faster. “You’re squeezin’ my tongue like you wanna make it cum. You want me to shoot all over your back again, don’t you?”

You nod frantically, cunt fluttering.

He laughs—low and dark. Then he leans over you, one hand still jerking himself, the other gripping your ass as the stomach tongue fucks into you harder.

“You’re not gettin’ off this thing ‘til I see you shake. Squirt on it.”

Your moans turn into screams. Your body trembles. Your slick gushes out in waves down his waiting tongue—

And then Sukuna explodes above you, twin streams of hot cum shooting across your back and thighs, while he growls your name through gritted teeth like he’s branding it into your soul!

[geekgirles]

Are we really going to sleep on Bobby's photo on his VIP pass????? Because look at it!!

[prodigalhound]

it’s not an RPF ship it’s an allegation. There’s no “shipping” being done i just know it happened.

[jmmll]

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[njghtiee]

do it for me

plot! jason todd had a talent for digging his heels in. once he decided something was beneath him, pointless, or just plain stupid—forget it. you could argue, nag, bribe, threaten, and he’d still fold his arms, lean back in that way of his, and let that smug little grin of defiance stay plastered on his face. but there was one, and only one, exception.

a/n: i have like a LOT to write but i had to write this drabble that popped in to my mind arghhh

That was exactly the look he was giving you right now.

“Absolutely not” Jason said, his arms crossed over his chest, his leather jacket creaking faintly. “There are many things I’ll do for you, babe—hell, I’ve done most of them already, but this?” He tilted his head, voice dripping with mock horror. “This is where I draw the line.”

You were standing in the middle of Wayne Manor’s living room, holding up the offending item. A neatly folded tuxedo. Alfred had laid it out for Jason earlier with quiet insistence that he wear it for Bruce’s charity gala tonight. Jason, naturally, had laughed and tossed it aside like it was a cursed object.

“Jason” Your voice had that patient, measured tone you always used when he was being deliberately difficult. “It’s just a tux.”

“Just a tux” he echoed, like you’d suggested he dive naked into a shark tank. “Babe, this thing has a bow tie. I don’t wear bow ties. I don’t even wear ties. You know what I wear?” He spread his arms and gestured at himself, black jeans, boots, leather jacket, the usual Jason Todd uniform. “This. This is me. Suits are—” he wrinkled his nose, “—Dick’s thing. He lives for that penguin look. Not me.”

You set the tuxedo carefully down on the couch, then turned to face him fully. “Jason. This is important.”

“Not to me.” He plopped down on the arm of the sofa, lounging like a cat that had just won an argument. “What’s Bruce gonna do if I don’t show up, huh? Glare at me across the room all night? He already does that.”

You stepped closer, your eyes narrowing just slightly. Jason smirked, ready for round two of the debate, until you leaned down, put your hands on his knees, and said softly:

“Do it for me.”

Jason blinked.

The words weren’t demanding. They weren’t bargaining. They weren’t even stern. Just quiet. Simple. They hit him like a sucker punch.

His mouth opened, closed, then opened again.

For once in his life, Jason Todd, the master of sarcasm, of smartass comebacks, of flipping every situation on its head, was speechless.

“Babe…” His voice was different now, lower, a little rough. He stared at you like you’d just spoken magic. “That’s… not fair.”

“Please?” you added, tilting your head in that way you knew melted him.

Jason groaned dramatically, dragging his hands down his face. “God, you’re evil.” He stood, pacing a few steps like he was preparing for battle. “I swore I’d never let one of those penguin suits touch me again. They’re itchy, they’re stiff, and you can’t even breathe in them. But you…” He pointed at you accusingly. “You just had to play the card.”

“What card?” you asked innocently.

“The do it for me card” Jason said, as if it were sacred law. “You know I can’t say no to that. I’d rather walk through hell in gasoline-soaked boots than tell you no when you ask like that.”

You tried not to smile too widely. “So you’ll wear it?”

Jason stopped pacing. He looked at you, at the tux, back at you.

He ran a hand through his hair like a man preparing for his own funeral. Then, with the air of someone signing away his soul, he muttered “…Fine. But if anyone laughs, I’m shooting them.”

You laughed, stepping forward to press a kiss to his cheek. Jason froze for half a beat, then leaned into it despite himself.

“Thank you” you whispered.

Jason sighed like a martyr. “You owe me. Big time.” But the corners of his mouth tugged upward, betraying the faintest, softest smile.

Later, in the grand hall of Wayne Manor, Jason was indeed in the tuxedo. Black and perfectly tailored, bow tie and all. He looked like he’d stepped out of some GQ spread, even if he sulked like a kid forced into sunday best.

Dick, of course, nearly doubled over laughing when he saw him. “Well, well,” Dick teased, elbowing Tim. “Look who finally joined the rest of civilization.”

Jason’s jaw clenched.

He was two seconds from storming out, until he caught your gaze across the room.

You were watching him, that warm, proud smile lighting up your face, and Jason felt his chest unclench.

Damn it. You were worth it. Every second of discomfort.

He muttered under his breath, “Do it for me, huh?” and shook his head, half amused, half helpless.

Because for you? Jason Todd would do just about anything.

When he came back to you, he muttered loud enough for only you to hear “There. Happy? You better be, ‘cause that’s the last time i'm wearing this”

But when you smiled, soft and proud, his scowl cracked into something more helpless.

He shook his head, biting back a grin, and whispered, “You’re the only damn reason I’d ever do that.”