A man you’ve never spoken to in your inbox :
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idk if you already know this poem but i think you'll like backwards by warsan shire
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I am having thoughts on the Pussy Eating King Frankie Morales finding out his girl has never recieved oral (due to being shy or just asshole exes) and his automatic “well that just won’t do”. What are your thoughts?
Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader. Squirting. Pussy Eating duh.
yeah this is all filth below
he would eat you out and he'd be messy about it - like his nose dragging through your folds as he tongues your cunt and then he wedges his thick fingers inside you until he feels your walls begin to flutter and clamp down and the heat in your body rising and burning and your thighs tensing as he places his palm across your belly to pin you in place before latching to your clit and suctioning his mouth while he deliberately shoves you to the peak of that hill before easing off and -
- you're curling in on yourself - slightly terrified and slightly unsure because jesus christ that swollen molten climb is beginning to spread across your core and there's so much pressure and as you push at him he soothes you "shhh baby - trust me - try and hold still so I can make you feel it" and okay okay this is fine but pleasure is coursing through your veins and bunching up at the well of your sex and then he moves his fingers in such a way that you can hear yourself - the wet, squelching echo - of your pussy taking his fingers to the joint and he moves them up and down and curls them perfect as he suckles on the bud of your sex and oh oh oh fuck - because then there are the sounds of him and the groans that rumble from his chest as he practically drinks your cunt and his tongue lapping at your soaked folds and the damp noise of him suctioning and eating you sloppy as he can and - oh - OH - that feeling begins to blossom again - deep and nestled in the very pit of you and Frankie is thrusting and plunging and twisting until the knuckles brush up against your sensitive flesh and he pushes down on your belly just enough as you cry out and fist your hands into his curls and -
- your knees dig into his ears and your hips buck up beneath his chin and something high-pitched and broken falls from your lips as you burst open on him - a push of liquid and the most electrifying crash of pleasure and relief and the entire bottom of his face has to be soaked - you're practically dripping from his lashes but he's grinning up at you despite the fact that his mouth still covering your cunt as he eases you through the aftershocks of your climax and those brown eyes spark and brighten as they watch you fall apart and he sits back on his heels - wiping a little at his chin before he crawls on top of you and kisses you hard - the warm soapy taste of your slick on his tongue as he slides it against yours and it's a dirty kiss - obscene in the way he cradles your jaw and stabs his thumb into your cheek and then he whispers - throaty and hoarse and rundown against your gasping lips - that was one - do you have a second in you? i think you do. i think you're my responsive, pretty girl who can take anything i give her
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White sw fan here, I’ve read your post about whitewashed fanart and I’m really trying not to like or reblog that crap. I still am shocked as how some obvious whitewashed stuff with clones as pale as bones can have so many notes. Back to the point of my ask: With some art, at least for my white ass, it’s hard to tell if it’s too white or not. Do you have something like a guide how to tell the less obvious ones apart?
Hi, thank you for asking me this question! I don't have a personal guide, but I can list a few things to take note of and to direct you to a few resources others have published to help answer your question.
The first thing to remember is that the clones are based off a younger Temuera Morrison, where he was considerably darker. (Aging can cause lightening of skin, read an explanation here). I suggest looking at pictures of tem when he was younger--and as you get more familiar with his appearance, I believe it’ll become more natural “to tell the less obvious ones apart” (in your words).
Another thing to take note of: the clone models in Star Wars have changed over the years to portray more of what are called Eurocentric features--basically erasing Temuera’s features as a Māori man in favour of more white features. Examples of the changed features include a sharper jaw, a square chin and a bigger eye shape that ignore the actor’s hooded eyes.
@/queen-breha-organa has a post briefly addressing what the clones should look like here. She also has a more in-depth reference sheet on the accurate facial features to take note of, including colour palettes of the correct skin tones for the clones, and another one focusing on the features I mentioned above. It’s very helpful; if you intend to physically compare whether the artwork you’re looking at is whitewashed, I recommend using this as a guide.
Something else to consider is the use of lighting in an artwork. Sometimes, an artist may have drawn the clone in their work with an accurate skin tone, but may have added lighting effects or filters that can drastically change skin tone and make it lighter (speaking from experience, btw. I won’t say that my skin tone shading and use of light is 100% accurate but I’m trying to improve all the time). @/dsm7 has a guide addressing this. While its intended for artists, it can help you better understand how light can affect skin tones and end up becoming a case of whitewashing. The full guide with image descriptions can be found here.
Addressing any fanartists who may be reading this: I recommend reading @/dsm7′s guide. It’s very informative and if you’re serious about improving and stopping whitewashing in your work, this is something you’d want to read.
Also! I don’t believe I can directly tell you how to determine whether an artwork looks whitewashed or not--frankly, it can be subjective at times. But hopefully, with the references I’ve provided, you’ll be able to more accurately decide for yourself.
And if you want to know more about whitewashing in Star Wars, I highly recommend checking out @/milfcaptainrex (@/clonehub)’s carrd on the #Unwhitewashtbb campaign.
I hope this helped!
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Jane Prentiss did nothing wrong. She just wanted people to be happy :(
[id: a two-panel doodle comic of tim stoker from the magnus archives, a malay man with long black hair in a bun, a hearing aid, and red eyeliner. in the first panel he looks doubtfully forward, and in the second he has a speech bubble reading "she ate me with worms". /end id]
i think you may have some contenders on that one my friend
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I also see Frankie being closed-off but now and then, when he is alone with her, he puts his arms around her waist and holds her tight against him while laying gentle kisses on her cheek. That's how he let's her know he feels safe around her.
A/N: Frankie Morales x F!Reader. Rough Sex. PTSD. Unhealthy coping mechanisms.
He’s harder today - cold and almost unforgiving. His body language is clipped - his fists clenching at his sides - his jaw ticking as his eyes go dark and far away.
“Are you okay?” you whisper - knuckles running along his cheek - the patchy beard. He pulls away - jerking as if burned - as if the softness of your touch has shocked him.
“What do you need?” you try again because you don’t give up easy. You know his trials and his pains and the scorched memories of his past. You’re part of most of them - part of the desert and the gunfire and the bombs and the flashes of blood splashed in sand and how it turned it black.
I was quick with the trigger.
So was I.
I’m fucked. This is all fucked.
“What do you need?” you repeat as he crowds you against the wall. His pupils expanding and filling the whites of his eyes. Those girlish lashes and pink lips and the color of his good looks that sometimes leaves you breathless.
“I need to fuck you,” he says flatly. “Need - need to be inside you.”
So you let him.
It’s aggressive and a little ugly - okay very ugly - if you’re being honest. He shoves you over the kitchen table. Your nails scratching at the wood - knocking over cans and your cell phone and even a plate. His hips snap against your ass as he grunts - as his cock stretches you obscenely and his balls slap into your tender cunt. You reach down and feel yourself - moving your fingers through your folds that are parted and spread around the thick of him.
He yanks your hair - slaps your ass - as he grinds himself into you. He presses impossibly deep and it would hurt if you weren’t used to it - if you weren’t so wet that you could take him - swallow him without a hitch or scrape.
He doesn’t speak - nothing but low, feral noises sounding from his chest. Growling. Snarling.
And then baby baby baby - oh fuck i love you
And it’s like the switch flips - you feel his cock pulse inside you - spit inside the clutch of your pussy before he’s collapsing to the floor - wrapping his arms around your waist and collecting you to him. He rocks you in his lap - lips peppering kisses across your cheek and brow and nose and “i know you have me...sweetheart...im sorry i was rough...im sorry i couldn’t - i couldn’t - “
You hush him - combing his hair back - slipping love into the open well of his begging mouth.
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Could you draw a good ol Spring Bonnie please?
I blackedout and woke up to this man, I don't make the rules
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Hi, I saw you mention in a post that Jesus and his disciples were gay, and I was wondering if you have any evidence or things to argue with against people who believe otherwise? I have a feeling I'm going to need that sometime soon irl. I hope you have a lovely day/night!
here is a link for a preacher's account on jesus's homosexuality
as for myself, from what I gathered growing up religious and reading the bible as well as hearing theology students' findings, it can be sufficed to say that jesus was queer, whether he was bisexual or gay (or, in other interpretations, aroace). his disciples were all men, and he had deep, personal relationships with them. he would spend most of his time with them, often alone in privacy. their emotional connections crossed the platonic boundary many times, with intimate actions like "washing each other's feet," which is recognized as a metaphor for sex. it's likely he was polyamorous, but if he were in a monogamous relationship with any of them, it probably would have been John, whom he was closest with. all in all, these men were devoted to each other in body and soul, and were in a sense practically married. given the facts, this virtually debunks any semi-logical notion that Jesus was heterosexual, and rather a polyam gay man.
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Frankie’s hand on your throat while Santi / Will spits in your mouth… why is this all I can think of during this GD heatwave I’m in
A/N: Will Miller x F!Reader x Frankie Morales. not many things make me clench and this message fucking DID. serious rough sex. spitting. choking
Frankie's cock is spearing you deeply - stretching you open as each brutal thrust lurches you up the bed. His fingers digging into the skin beneath your jaw as he pins you to the mattress and you're practically going boneless. Your legs splayed wide as he stares down at where your cunt blossoms around the slick rod of his punishing dick.
"Fuck - Will - just look at her," he purrs as he squeezes your throat. He drags his other hand down your belly before he thumbs at your clit - it's puffy from use - from Will's mouth and when Frankie begins to pinch and swirl it, you buck up beneath him.
"Open your mouth, baby," he orders against the squeak of the mattress - the shove of the headboard against the wall as his hips snap into your spread pussy. Each rut met with the lewd liquid-suck of your cunt making room for him - snatching him to the hilt again and again. He's plunging deep and it feels like he's knocking up against something in your gut - like he might knife into your tissue and your womb and your pounding heart.
Your lips part and then Will is there - caressing your face - slicking his tongue across the swell of your cheek. "Keep it open, gorgeous girl," he growls before he straightens up - reaching his full height with his knees beside your head and he clasps your jaw and it's so much with Frankie's knuckles wrapped tight around your neck and Will keeping you down and looming above you like a Sun God. All of that vicious handling mixed with the very harsh pump of Fish's massive cock that is literally splitting you apart and then Will spits and you taste it and he snarls: "Swallow."
Because this is the darker Will - the one he rarely shows - the one who likes to conquer you and peel your pussy open so he can watch your hole flutter and gape for him before he rasps something obscenely crude about your cunt or your ass or your mouth and what he's going to do to it. His hand trails across your waist - smoothing the skin and stroking you softly - a reminder that he's still there beneath it and that he can stop if you want but you'd never because he knocks Frankie's hand aside and pushes the heel of his hand against the apex of your sex and grinds it down hard enough to make you sob.
"Baby girl," he drawls - all hoarse and feral. His eyes achingly midnight blue as they scan your face - his thumb notching against the swell of your lower lip. "Put her on her knees, Fish. Let's really make sure she can't walk straight tomorrow."
Your gut locks up - your walls milking and contracting around Frankie as your climax crashes into you at Will's promise like the burst ting from a bullet - the taste of a fired gun. And it's fine - it's perfect - it feels like a flash of death and then release.
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THEE most BADASS scene in all of Star Wars is the “I am a Jedi, like my father before me” scene in ROTJ. Palpatine spent the entire prequel trilogy (including TCW) playing everyone like a fiddle and orchestrated the downfall of the entire Jedi Order, dominated the entire galaxy with his empire, and acquired the literal Chosen One of the Jedi as his apprentice. And then he spent the entire original trilogy being the literal emperor of the galaxy with UNLIMITED POWUH
And then in strolls Luke Skywalker, and with this one declaration and his decision to believe in his dad’s goodness no matter what, he becomes the first person in the ENTIRE FRANCHISE to completely and utterly ruin Palpatine’s plans. He’s the FIRST and ONLY person to TRULY wipe the smirk off that guy’s face. (And Palpatine HIMSELF acknowledged how badass Luke was in that scene by going “so be it, Jedi,” and recognizing Luke as an official Jedi)
In one fell swoop, Luke 1) deprived Palpatine of a new apprentice 2) broke his dad’s chains and freed him from Palpatine 3) orchestrated Palpatine’s downfall
After this scene, Palpatine loses EVERYTHING — his apprentice, his control, his empire, and his life
And Luke did it through the power of love, hope, and kindness
When will your fave ever
H O N E S T L Y !!!!!!!
the sheer power of luke standing in front of palpatine who ordered the genocide of the jedi and saying i'm the son and heir of this culture you tried to wipe out and in less than 25 years we're back to fuck you up. it didn't stick. you failed, i'm a jedi, i will teach more jedi, and everything you stand for means nothing because i'm here. just- absolute power move. i love him.
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Do you like Red Hood's mask?
It depends on the type, so Let me rate them for you!
The hood version-
Iconic, actually has a hood, 11/10
8/10, has the intimidation factor.
1/10, why. Just why.
Has a hood and keeps the aesthetic!
The colors are amazing, the vibe is perfect. Also kinda has bat ears!
Arkham- Red hood
9/10 I like it, but it feels uncanny.
I like the glowing eye, however why does the other one look like a controller.
The real original-
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Just wanted to tell you I am IN LOVE with your KORRASAMI art and thank you SO MUCH for sharing your wonderful talent
Awe!! Anon! You're too kind 🥰 Thank you!!
Here's a quick something to hold you over while I deal with a migraine 🥲
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Reader not knowing how to tell Din she's pregnant so she just grabs his hand and holds it against her stomach while staring at him hoping he'll get the idea
A/N: Din Djarin x F!Reader. Fluff ish.
It's not the most opportune moment. There's a fight going on - streams of plasma-blasts splintering the dark press of the galaxy above your heads.
"We're shooting our way out of this, I guess," Din announces wryly. He tilts his helmet - his visor scanning you quickly - just to check - just to see that you're fully alright.
He's always so worried. All the time.
You should tell him now.
Because what if you die? What if he dies? This is exactly why you didn't really want this to begin with but - fuck - you changed your tune when you clamped your palm across your stomach and felt the nudge of something. The tingle of life.
You can hear Cara shouting over the barricade. The loud ting of the blaster fire goes down by one. "Yay Cara,” you offer weakly. This could all go very wrong and your head isn’t on straight. Your heart is snagging the wet tissue of your throat. Din's helmet twists to look at you.
You’ve just been incredibly ill. Lethargic. Clumsy. It felt like you were wading through viscous liquid when you tried to put one foot in front of the other.
You thought it the flu or some bout of food poisoning. Every excuse in the book.
You just didn’t know until it was confirmed for you. The weird doctor back on Corellia had simply glanced at your belly and said: “Congratulations”. Both of you passing each other in the street and then your entire fucking world went sideways.
“Din,” you whisper and just as he turns around the air goes white and loud.
“We’ve gotta go,” he orders - his fingers spearing into your wrist. He’s dragging you back towards the ship. The suns burn garish red in the sky and you think shit shit shit - he needs to know.
You stop in your tracks - digging your heels in. He whirls around as you jerk him backwards. “What the fuck?”
“I-I have to tell you something.”
“Yes - right now.”
He curses under his breath before he releases your wrist. He crosses his arms over his chest - the whole of him breathing irritation and worry as he regards you silently.
You’re nervous - losing your way - your words. This is so much and Din seems to realize. He makes a small comforting mouth sound and moves toward you. He cups your shoulder, his thumb massaging the tender flesh as he reminds you I’m here I’m here I’m right here. When he speaks his voice is softer - more light. “What is it, pretty?”
You are completely struck dumb so you give up. You snatch his hand and place it firmly over your belly. He’s not an idiot - he understands in about five seconds what you are trying to say. His fingers spread and flex over the fabric of your shirt - he pushes down a little.
“Are you serious?” There’s awe in his throat - astonishment. Warmth. From above, the dual suns seep into your bones - your pores and edges. You feel feverish and sweet - lush as a ripe fruit while Din appraises you like you’ve trapped the moon in your body.
His helmet snaps up and it feels like you can see right past the Beskar - catch the way he is staring at you.
“A baby?” he murmurs with a grin flashing through his tone. “Well - fuck.”
And you’re about to ask him if he’s mad or scared or annoyed but you don’t get to because he rips his helmet up and kisses you - hungry and urgent and wet and almost clumsy. He doesn’t care - doesn’t care at all that his face is bare beneath the sun and so you let him drink your lips and tongue and you think oh this is nice - this is okay.
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hey can you do some more trans backgrounds in this style please
I really like these and want some more!
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As if bakugou wouldn’t be fatphobic lmfaooo. Japanese tend to be skinner and like skinny people and I say that as someone who is chubby. Plus he’d just see it as someone who can’t take care of themselves properly. Y’all say he ain’t care about looks but we all known he’d care if his s/o was fat like it’d be embarrassing for him.
I'm gonna be real with this; I cried over this last night. Like yesterday was a bad fucking day, it was stressful, I was in pain. This was the last fucking thing I needed, the fucking cherry on top of a shit cake.
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What’s your take on a fight and subsequent makeup with Frankie? Also I loved your Pope one shot :)
A/N: Frankie Morales x F!Reader. Rough Smut. Slight jealousy. Gags. Insecure vibes. Dirty ass talk. Age Gap. Lil bit of daddy trash.
Frankie’s anger burns low - slow, lazy simmer until it pops to a full boil. He knows that it’s stupid to hold it in - it’s stupid to keep it coiling up in his belly like a damn asp arched on a strike.
You're all at a bar. The beer is cheap but cold and your hand is in the back pocket of his jeans. There’s Tom Petty and Steely Dan pumping through the corners of the wood-paneled room. This place is familiar to him - an old friend - a soothing embrace at the end of a long week. His eyes drift across your warm face - your lovely smile and the puff of your lip over the rim of your glass.
It should be good - it should be an easy fucking night.
But then your ex shows up and Frankie is reminded of his age and the generational gap between you. It’s not like you're a teenager, but you are younger. He’s got creaking joints and a soft belly that is nothing like what it used to be when he was just starting out in the force. You swell with your beauty - with your lush youth. Persephone in his dark, scarred hands.
Your ex is handsome and it has become increasingly obvious to Frankie that this guy is not over you. You treat him politely - allow him to wrap you into an embrace that borders on inappropriate. Frankie won’t say shit - he won’t do anything but burn because he continues to question if you should even be with him. He rots with it - spoils like old milk - as his jealousy permeates his gut.
If your ex only knew what he was capable of - if he knew the bodies under Frankie's belt. He steels his jaw, tugging that part of him back - buries it down because he doesn't like those shards of his identity. They aren't safe and they aren't healthy and he loves you too much to ever present the truth of them to you.
Frankie holds the anger in - he holds it close like a lover - drinks his beer and settles between Santi and Will and their steady shoulders. He watches you bloom in the old, pock-marked bar where men keep their gazes locked on your hips and the swell of your breasts. He shouldn't - he shouldn't.
Of course - it blows its top.
“You’re being ridiculous, Frankie,” you groan.
“He was all over you.” He tosses his keys on the coffee table harder than he intends.
“Would you have preferred I push him off?” You put your hands on your hips - tilting your head in a way that makes Frankie feel like the child. “Because I’d do it. I don’t give a fuck about him.”
He sighs - falling back against the wall. The wind in his sails decreasing to a steady hum. “Sometimes I just think you’d be better off with someone your age.”
Your expression startles - your brow wrinkling as you regard him with something on the verge of pained. Shit. He didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.
He doesn’t know why he’s like this. He doesn’t know why he continues to force you away from him, choosing to bash himself against the rocks out of his own self-pity.
“What do I have to do to convince you that I want you?” you hiss as you step toward him. “Should I suck your cock in front of him? Get on my knees?”
His gaze snaps to your face. Your eyes narrowed and hungry. Every fight you have usually grows and bloats until you both handle it with frantic touching - with his tongue inside you as he apologizes in the tender ways he knows how.
“Yes,” he says - voice ragged and low. “I want that.”
You move backward and he follows - his grip on your hip as you wriggle away from him.
“You wanna own me, Frankie?” you urge - voice going to silk and heat - reminding him of your wet, hot pussy. “You want to fuck me and make me forget all about the other men who have had me.”
Shit. He palms himself over his jeans - his cock filling at the thought. He pushes you up against the edge of the kitchen table - cradling the hinge of your jaw.
“Stretch me out, Francisco,” you murmur - nipping at his lower lip. “Make me forget.”
He’s out of words - the full tang of his anger has driven itself completely to arousal. He wants to ruin you - stuff himself into that slick cunt until you gush around him.
“You gonna be my good girl?” he husks as you unbuckle his belt - as he nudges his fingers through the scrap of fabric over your folds. He licks into your mouth - savoring the taste of you - the needy moan that slips from your throat.
“I’ll be the best, Frankie,” you plead. “I’ll be so sweet if you just fuck me.”
“Then - shut up and take it,” he grunts as he presses the flat of his hand to your chest and forces you down. He hovers over you - stroking your thighs and your belly. He’ll be gentle if you ask for it - he likes to test the waters - making sure you’re good. You say nothing, but writhe beneath his chest - curling your nails into the thick sides of his waist as you ache for a kiss.
He wrenches your face to the side - sucking a mark into your neck - the underside of your ear. He wrucks up your skirt before he tugs at your panties - snapping the elastic against your skin until it tears. You gasp - arching up into him as he takes the torn fabric and stuffs it into your mouth. He knows it must be salty with you - fleshy and musky and you allow it because you’ll be obedient for him tonight.
You’ll play the good little girl for him.
He stares at the obscene display of your spread pussy - the shiny, tender skin that is dark with desire - the peak of your clit hard and in need of his attention. He runs his fingertip through the seam of your sex - catching it on your nub as you whimper.
“You want daddy to fill your hungry little cunt?” he growls - prodding and caressing like he’s just observing his effect on you - clinical and a tiny bit mean.
You nod - your eyes begging.
“Words,” He slaps the bare, stretched flesh of your cunt and you cry out around the gag of your panties.
You say something close to yes - it’s muffled and desperate and Frankie realizes that he’s not being fair.
“God,” he murmurs. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Look at that pretty pussy.”
He dips his fingers inside you - savoring the molten clutch of your walls around the crook of his knuckle. He eases his fingers out before he slides them over his length - lubing himself up.
“You’re so wet, princesa,” he croons. “Enough to slip right in.”
He pushes at your thighs - holding you open. “You think there’s enough to use on your ass? You want me to fuck that tight little hole? You’ve only let me in there, right?”
You nod again - your lips swollen around the gag. Your lashes fluttering as you reach for him. Please. Please. Please.
“I’ve got you, honey,” he mutters as he lowers himself over you - as he smacks his hand across the table’s surface above your head. He drops his hips - lurching forward until he buries himself to the hilt.
It’s so tight - strangling even - your hot body swallowing him as your knees dig into his torso.
“Oh fuck, baby,” he groans. “Jesus - you feel so fucking good.”
He drags his hips back before he shoves them forward - knocking a sob from your mouth. He thrusts - pushing as deep as he can as he grips the edge of the table while he impales you on his dick. You’re gorgeous - meeting every snap of his pelvis as you skate your nails through his curls - hitting the cap off his hat.
His belly hangs in just the right way that when you tilt yourself upward - it grazes your clit. He lowers his mouth - sinking his teeth into your shoulder as his cock pulses and throbs and spits. You’re leaking around him - dripping onto the wood - each harsh spear of his cock is met with a lewd squelch.
“You gonna cum, princesa,” he slurs - as he combs your hair back so he can watch you fall apart. “You gonna cum right on my cock?”
He can tell you’re trying - your soft body is jerking beneath his - your pussy fluttering around his softening length. He rasps himself against you - using the point of his pelvic bone to nudge the apex of your sex. He pins you down - blanketing you in his flesh - his sweat and spend.
He sees your climax shatter across your face - flaring hot beneath your skin as your fingers dig into his shoulder blades. The drool-slick fabric still caught between your teeth.
“That’s it,” he coaxes. “That’s it - aw fuck hermosa - let me feel it.”
You go soft and lax - a boneless pretty thing as you shove your brow into his shoulder. He eases the gag out of your mouth - stroking your head - your hips - the crevices that he has marked.
“Christ - Frankie,” you tease. “For a guy who thinks he’s too old, you fuck me like you’re 16.”
He laughs - light and airy - spilling from his chest where his anger has long since dissipated. He brushes his mouth over your head - catching the crush of your shampoo before he kisses you again.
He gives you another gentle thrust - his cock beginning to fill at your praise.
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sry if you've explained this already but how did you feel about luke's character arc in the last jedi?
i hate it. i have two big problems with it:
1) it's fundamentally out of character. when constructing a character you have to define some things that can't change because they constitute their identity. contrary to what tumblr lit analysis says, characters are not people. they'll never be as complex as real people. to make good characters you have to select some traits as fundamental, some things that no matter what happens won't ever change or else the characters loses their identity and become unrecognizable. that happened with luke. luke fundamentally would never willing isolate himself while there's new nazis running wild in the galaxy, not when his sister is leading the fight against them, not when his goddamn nephew is leading the nazis. luke fundamentally wouldn't give up on his own family. dude was willing to die for vader who had done absolutely nothing to show he was worth of redemption. you can change many things about luke, but if you make him lose his compassion and give up on family, he's no longer luke skywalker.
2) virtually, almost any of those character changes could work if they're well justified and worked into the narrative. luke's "arc" wasn't. we never really got a reason why he went completely off the rails. and it's not even a cool concept where i can say alright I'll give the author some slack because this concept is cool. taking a heroic and iconic character and making him into a resented hermit is not something I'm willing to buy. so you have to sell it to me. and they didn't.
it was never going to work because such a gigantic change in a character needs a lot more time to work. and luke was not going to be the protagonist of this story. it's honestly, a really stupid idea and idk how everyone enabled rian johnson and lied to him multiple times making him think he could pull it off.
damn, if mark hamill is telling you this is not luke, maybe you should listen.
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Have you noticed that tumblr changed the tags referencing LGBT things to the colors of their respective flags? It was a nice surprise for me
yes! i love it so much
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Jason steals the tires off of the Batmobile every time he gets mad or needs attention. Later on, Jason teaches Tim how to do the same thing and Tim is just like ‘wtf’
Batmobile: (has no wheels)
Bruce: I guess it’s time to check in on Jaylad
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Hi! I absolutely LOVE your writing. They're freakin' crazy amazing. I haven't gotten around to read Terms and Conditions yet but I've read your other poly stuff and I know T&C is going to be great. I don't know if this is something you would be open to write, but I was curious if you can write a poly fic of say reader gets recruited into their team and she has to go through an initiation/hazing with them (w/ or w/o Tom but IDC about him). Thank you :)
A/N: This is SO self-indulgent it's gross. TF Boys x F!Reader. Drug Use.
It’s not a hazing - not really. They just take you out for drinks. It’s going fine until you disappear into the crowd and come back with your pupils the size of dinner plates.
“You’re wasted, babe,” Benny teases as Will grips your chin - scanning your half-lidded gaze.
“Drugs,” you slur - lips popping apart into a high-beam smile.
Will gapes at you. “Who gave you drugs?”
You slide into Bennys arms before rubbing your face against his like a cat. “You feel good Benjamin.”
“What man?” Will presses - his jaw so tight it might snap.
“Dunno,” you shrug as you go all boneless in Benny’s lap. You snatch the receipt from the high-top table and eye it intensely. “Who the fuck is Jessica?”
“Our server, princesa,” Santi says before he covers his mouth with his hand to smother his laugh. Will turns on him - his expression terrifying and incredulous. “I’m sorry, but is everyone just fine with her taking some random pills.”
“It was a chocolate,” you correct.
Santi shrugs. “It was probably an edible.”
Frankie bites his lip as he presses the back of his hand against your brow. “We can just keep an eye on her.”
Will scowls but he sits down in his seat - swallowing a heavy mouthful of beer.
“Frankie,” you croon as you wiggle in Benny’s lap - his fingers digging into your hips as he growls: “Stop grinding on my dick like that - Jesus.”
Frankie smiles at you.
“You’re like - super handsome,” you declare as you pluck his wrist from where it’s resting and press your mouth to the pulse. Frankie’s eyes widen - a flush building in his cheeks.
“Biggest dick, too,” you add as you drag your tongue over his skin. Will spits out his beer.
“Christ,” Frankie yanks his arm from you - shoving his napkin over his lap. “Behave.”
“We should fuck after this,” you sigh as you slip lower - nearly disappearing under the table. Benny has to grab you under your armpits to lift you back up.
“No,” Santi says. “You’re on another planet, querida.”
“Better than being here with you nerds,” you gripe as Benny gives up - letting you just melt to the ground.
“We should put her to bed,” Will suggests.
“It’s gonna be like trying to shove a noodle into pajamas.”
“Let’s give the job to Big Dick Morales. He seems capable enough.”
“Go fuck yourself, Miller.”
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