#[[ furiously scrolls through my blog ]]

[dolldefiler]

i’ve been scrolling through your blog for the past 30 mins and my dumb cunt can’t stop leaking through my underwear. i often walk home late at night from a lab and i always daydream abt getting raped and degraded by a mean man like you! someone to pinch my clit, tell me that you hate stupid thing. to spit on me and slap my face until my dumb puppy cunt is dripping n ready for your cock. i’d secretly hope you’d noticed my tiny gaped asshole and start fingering it, see how many fingers i’ve fit inside of me before. it’d be hard to not notice how my cunt starts dripping to the point where your balls get soaked with my slick. id hope by that point you’d take my anal virginity and label my pussy as your lube dispenser. just watch it drip strings of slick as your cock absolutely destroys my asshole.

Mhm, I'd love to catch you as you walk down some dark alleyway, rushing back home. I'd stumble in behind, pinning you flat against a wall. By the time you'd realise what's happening, I'd clamp a hand around your neck and slap you sharply. I'll tell you what an eager piece of rapebaiting fuckmeat you seem like, walking down this alley every night. You'd scream, of course, but I'd slap you hard enough to shut you up. I wouldn't even bother gagging you. No one else would hear you.

I'd flip you around so you stand with your stomach pressed against the filthy, mossy wall. With one hand against your nape and the other roughly tearing at your pants. I'd mock you for being a filthy perv that gets off to being manhandled. To being abused by a complete fucking stranger. I'll plunge my fingers into your throbbing cunt, laughing as you try to hide your moans. I'll slap your cunt, progressively hitting you harder, noticing it get wetter. Only a masochistic bitch would get as wet as you.

Then I'll notice your gaped asshole and plunge my finger in. I'd know what a complete anal whore you are just from how loose it is. I'll ask you if I should use my fingers... or if I should use my cock instead. I wouldn't care what answer you give me between your whimpering moans of lust and fear. I'd slide my dick against your cunt briefly, using your lube dispenser of a cunt before I drive my dick in. I want to feel you stiffen and for you to scream silently at the pain. In that moment, I'd wrap an arm around your neck, holding you while you choke. Breaking your gaped, fuckhole with each thrust. I'd pound into you, grunting furiously while I use you to jerk off in. I'll feel your knees buckle, and I'll simply pin you against the wall by fucking you against it violently. I want to feel you pass out while I use you.

And once I've spent my cock inside your drooling asshole, I'll let you fall. You'd never see my face. It's not like it'd matter. You'd just go home, shower, and rub yourself to the memory anyway.

#rough cnc #cnc k!nk #free use slvt #degradation k1nk #rough kink #r@pe fantasy #r@pe k!nk #humiliation kink #r@petoy #r@pe kink #cnc railing #rapedoll #rapekink #rapetoy #r@pe play #asks

[blushcoloreddreams]

7 tips for a thriving journal

Hello and welcome back to the blog my love!

I have been move to speak on the matter of journaling many times before, and today, with the new years spirit still around and everyone adding goals and new habits to their lives, I thought it would be nice to take pen to paper or rather... binary code to screen, and discuss the 7 ways you can improve your journaling life!

1. Read more

I’ll have to be honest with you guys ... the fact is that you are NEVER going to enjoy writing unless you also enjoy READING the written word. Now, we don't need to be cozying up in the evening with our personal diaries as reading material, but I have found that the more I read, the better (and more frequently) I write!

Reading more will stimulate your writing, inspire your words, and most of all, remind you that plenty of people have written millions of words on paper, and you can get through a daily journal entry. ;)

2. Get a pen you actually like

This might sound crazy, but I promise that you WILL write more if you enjoy the type of pen you're using. When I switched over to a really inky black gel pen, I found my cursive gliding over the page at RECORD speeds! It was simply a joy to write! So ditch that creepy pencil, say no to promotional pens, and pick out a cute gel pen!

3. Bring your journal with you everywhere

Most of us don't sit down at 8pm every evening and take pen to paper, outlining our days. Most of us have fluctuating schedules, thought-lives, and energy levels. I have found that bringing my journal with me has helped me write more often, get better ideas, and just... enjoy writing much more!

It changes from a chore to a full-on CHOICE! I encourage you to get a smallish journal and pull that baby out when you're waiting at the dealership, grabbing a coffee, or just... killing time while waiting for your date! It definitely beats scrolling through Instagram, and you will find that catching your most interesting thoughts before they flutter away is HIGHLY satisfying!

4. Use it to sort out your emotions

I remember tearing into my bedroom after a particularly negative ninth grade school day. I threw myself on my bed, snatched a pretty journal I had but never had found use for and began furiously writing about being ditched by my friends after a some intense political debate that took over not only school but the country in 2018 and even if I stayed neutral at the time, the opinion of people close to me was enough for them to slowly exclude me. Instead of wailing, crying, or screaming at my friends, I screamed at my journal. And it was SATISFYING!

As an adult reading back on my impassioned ninth grade emotions, it's shocking to me how intense I felt at the time, but I also find myself feeling quite grateful to have those feelings immortalized forever. I've always done this: recorded my intense emotions, good OR bad. When I fall in love with, my journal becomes filled with my heart's longings and thoughts from our very first weeks. I promise you, either way It’s a cathartic experience that will not only help you process and rationalize what you feel at that moment but also record those feelings and adventures for the future.

When I went through grief and really bad times, my feelings were also sprawled across the pages forever. And sometimes, I like to reflect upon those feelings to remind myself how far I've come, or of what our first love felt like. Journaling helps you work through your emotions, but it also helps catalogue your life in a really meaningful way. Try taking to the pages when you're struggling, in pain, or feeling supremely happy. :)

5. Rotate your writing & topics

In order to stimulate your writing, it's important to rotate through different topics AND different styles of writing. Instead of just writing daily journal entries about your life, try your hand at different categories. I enjoy writing short stories, poetry, daily diary entries, personal thoughts about cultural and social current events, things I wanna learn more about, my goals and future blog ideas!

You could write song lyrics, poetry, novel ideas, blog ideas; the sky is the limit! I encourage you also to not only try writing about different topics, but also try rotating the WAY you write as well. You don't necessarily need to write with a physical pen on paper every time either. Sometimes I prefer opening up google docs, or even this very blog!

6. Use it to connect with God

I like to write out my prayers sometimes... especially if they're really meaningful like prayers of repentance, supplication, or long lists of what I'm grateful to God for. It can help to stimulate your prayer life, AND keep a record of your personal spiritual breakthroughs.

7. Write letters to people

When my father died, we haven’t been in contact for a while but I felt like I still had much to say, words that I wished I had externalized before his passing. However there was nothing stopping me to write to him, even if it felt a bit silly and I knew he’d never read them, it could help calm my mind. So I decided to writing him a few letters could help me cope better with what had just happened, better understand our relationship and even myself.

Now, at first, it can sound pretty unappealing to write to someone who couldn't write back, but before I knew it, it felt like one of the best cathartic experiences I ever had. When my beloved great grandma passed I found myself writing longer and longer letters, detailing different thoughts, and even throwing in some creative writing. I spent so much time sharing my thoughts, feelings, ideas, and heart, that by the end of this all, I felt like I was already in the habit of daily journaling LOL!

So, if you need a spark for your writing habits, I encourage you to start sending some letters to your family members, friends or find a pen pal, I actually loved writing letters on peoples birthdays when I was younger and it was something I really enjoyed rediscovering. Even if the person doesn't write back much, it can really jumpstart your writing!

That's all I have for today my loves! I hope you feel inspired to start writing. Remember, if the notebook life doesn't work out for you, it's okay to turn to the digital keyboard! Just keep trying different angles until you settle on the right formula for you.

xoxo, Julia

#personal #level up #femininity #personal development #glowing up #glow up #level up journey #journal #journaling

[dyke-pollinator]

Okay I’ll need yall to indulge me for a moment because I was on my walk today thinking about what it means for a post to Breach Containment and was struck with a Vision that I have not the artistic talent to create but that I must put into this world in some form.

A wizard sits in their tower in front of a large desk, papers scattered everywhere with numerous feathered pens in all different colors of ink. They take out a parchment scroll and scribble something on it furiously. Upon completion they press a button and a little Lad poofs into existence in front of their desk, all bright eyed and excited, unaware of the horrors they are about to experience.

The wizard hands the scroll (post) to the Lad and sends them on their way, straight to the Market of Mutuals TM, an overlapping amalgam of other messengers, all ferrying their posts around to the various sub communities.

The Lad wanders around, collecting likes as they pass by various stalls, and every time they are handed a reblog, they are warped to that user’s Market of Mutuals. The Lad is slowly warped between various communities, a large tent emanating pink and blue light with wisps of purple smoke pouring out the door of the t4t horny posters, a goblin market of shitposters screaming unintelligible garbage at each other, various niche fandom communities that glance at the Lad with confusion before turning their back around and continuing their discussions. 

Eventually, the Lad stumbles upon a Large Blog LLC that smiles knowingly at the pour soul before handing them a reblog that they cannot refuse. They are warped to a desolate location where the Large Blog’s followers wait in desperate hunger for the next post, immediately pouncing upon the Lad, who is then thrown, screaming, through thousands or portals faster than they can comprehend, as hands randomly jut out slapping them with more likes and reblogs.

Cut to the Wizard in their tower again, where they have a large megaphone or speaker of some kind relaying the screaming of the Lad as thousands of notifications begin to submerge their office, drowning out any of the other Lads they had previously sent out. 

Anyway this is what I imagine having a post with more than 10k notes is like. 

#This is almost certainly nothing #but it was embedded in my skull #and I needed to get it out onto paper #to stop thinking about it

[crazylittlejester]

heyo, was reading through your blog like the morning news paper or something, and got to your post about your food anxiety and i just. people told you to get over yourself. and my vision has gone red as i furiously scroll up to send this ask because MY GOD the medical world is so often a shitshow. what therapist worth their frickin salt?? would say get over it?? like hello babes you are the professional who is here to teach me skills to cope??? so maybe?!? do that?? GOD i had a friend who refused to go to therapy for so long cuz they had too many shitty ones but they Finally found one that listens to them and its been SO helpful for them. and it just throws me into an absolute rage thinking of the people who arent getting the help they need because too many douche nozzles got to be therapists. just. AGH. vibrating in my chair with rage. i got so lucky with my therapist being very good but if she hadnt i cannot imagine how my life would be, with my anxiety the way it was i would have internalized that shit so hard.

*cough* anyways sorry that was. a lot. but i just /needed/ to say something before i exploded. no matter how “ridiculous” emotions may seem, they are real and therefore valid and THEREFORE must be treated seriously by yourself and others. *grabs you by the shoulders and gently shakes* you are VALID AND SO ARE YOUR EMOTIONS AND YOU ARE LOVED. okay i gotta go calm down now. take care of yourself.

Having a good therapist is so important, and unfortunately myself and so many others have just never gotten that experience. I haven’t had time to look for a new one since my last one just abandoned me randomly at the start of the school year because they were like “nah king I don’t wanna see you anymore, good luck tho 🫶” and did not offer to transfer me to anyone else 😭 (Dw, I think it’s funny now. But it does break my heart that I’m not the only one this has happened to)

A bunch of internet strangers validating my feelings more over the past 24 hours than mental health professionals have ever done for me my entire life has been absolutely wild, but like, thank you for the support. It seriously means a lot, and I don’t even know what to say. I went from having no one understand to like 10 people sharing they have a similar experience and many many more offering support and I like don’t know what do to with myself 😭

Anyways, I love all of you guys and all the really nice things everyone has said to me. It seriously has meant a lot 🫶

#jes talks #jes ask #jes rambles

[formulatrash]

Please don't take this weirdly but why are you on Tumblr?

the annual Ides memes, obviously.

no, more seriously the actual answer is: I like Tumblr. I've been on Tumblr since like 2010 in various forms, I just enjoy the hellsite. I like the gifs and graphics and stuff people create, I have a Tumblr sense of humour, I think there's lots of stuff to enjoy about mindlessly scrolling the dash or whatever.

I mean the actual, actual answer is 'after the collapse of livejournal this was where we all went to hang out' and some of us are still hanging out to this day.

there are a lot of creators and journalists on Tumblr. not necessarily in motorsport but in a lot of other fields, it's an interesting sandbox to play in and some things - like the ask function - don't really work as well on anything else. for me, these days, it's also somewhere slightly quieter and less furiously annoying than being on Twitter and although there's definitely creepy people who are way too over-interested in what I reblog (it really isn't deep I just like stuff) it's a lot less than the insane scrutiny on Twitter.

(someone got legitimately mad at me because I said I liked an Alfa Romeo press release the other day which. idk man. there's gotta be better stuff to do.)

a lot of people used to use Tumblr as a long post format/more traditional blog; there was a lot of music writing and stuff back in the day. that seems to have shifted, which isn't a bad or good thing just a fact but I guess, yeah. just still here.

I hate Reddit, my interactions with F1 Reddit in particular have been by miles the worst (I had to ask the mods to remove anything of mine posted there because like, don't need that flack) but I do like informally discussing motorsport, which I am obv a fan of as well as working in, somewhere.

I do think Tumblr generally doesn't realise there are a lot of people in the industry on here. which I don't say as a like 'oooh, beware they might see your horny posting' but more like 'actually people just quite like enjoying motorsport through gifs and things.'

#misc asks

[jojolightningfingers]

fic rec list

Because I’ve never done one of these, and I would really like to shout-out some stories that reduce me to a pile of ash every time I so much as think about them. So here, my 10 favorite fics in no particular order:

ideny’s Dirty Sympathy (Ace Attorney; klapollo)

“I do not know that I believe in fate. But I believe in helplessness, and that is almost the same.”

Coming as absolutely no fucking shock to anybody who’s known me or followed this blog for the past two years or so. The premise: Klavier and Apollo are in abusive relationships with Daryan and Kristoph respectively, meet by chance, and frame each other’s tormentors for murder. What follows is AA4, told with this undercurrent, culminating in a third act that had me in my best friend’s dms wailing incomprehensibly. This fic runs the full spectrum of human emotion. This fic redefined fic for me. Some day in the future I’m going to sit down and dissect this fic’s narrative structure just so I can maybe attain half the power and cohesion of it. Every single one of ideny’s characters is so powerfully written--not just the main players, but the side cast. The characters that appear for like, one scene and are never seen again. So much thought and care is put into each line and it really, really shows.

The revised first 74 chapters are on Ao3 here; the LiveJournal thread with the full original version is here. The revision leaves off at the end of 149c/some (you’ll have to scroll down really far to see it). If you’re making the jump you’ll know you’ve gotten the right starting point if the post opens with ‘The sounds his feet make on the dark wooden stairs in the front hall [...]’.

hatsuna’s I wish to live in a world (Haikyuu!!; sakuatsu)

Guarantees were foolish things, so hope was all Motoya had to brave the world, and the wings of that were too frail to build futures upon.

The sakuatsu, if you can believe it, is not the important part of this fic. The lens the sakuatsu is viewed through is. This fic is a fabulous example of a study on a relationship viewed from the outside: in this case, Komori’s efforts to reconcile the cousin he knows with the cousin who has somehow entered a relationship with someone like Atsumu--undeniably the same person, and somehow not at all. The way this story makes me feel is very difficult to put into words, mainly because I haven’t seen a fic that handles all the strange, uncomfortable, pieces-missing emotions surrounding how you see people and how other people see the same person, intertwined with the wistfulness involved in growing up, as well as this one does. It’s soft and squidgy and somehow presents itself such that the reader can see the contradictions in how Komori sees the world, but Komori himself cannot. There isn’t much that’s more human than that.

@glassedplanets’ quema (Bleach; grimmichi)

So he opens his mouth, not to devour but to welcome, and marks this down in some immutable corner of his being: first of many, first of many, first of many.

Where lies the line between want and obligation? What happens when the borders between the three worlds come down? This list would of course not be complete without me pointing furiously at this fic and making completely incoherent noises. Nailing the neverending nature of something in writing is really, really hard to do and this delivers in spades (hah). There is a simplicity to the way Grimmjow and Ichigo view and navigate each other that is paradoxically complex and alien and fascinating to witness. Highly recommended for those of you that like exploring relationships that are very much atypical in their love languages (what is yearning but another form of hunger, after all?) and also have a soft spot for incredibly well-written fight sequences and prose that hits like a hammer. And also Reishi Theory.

@kanthia‘s Life Goes On (Dragon Ball; vegebul and hanvi)

She likes it on Mount Paozu, where gods visit for tea and dinner, and love is the quiet between words.

Fine I’m cheating a little bit with this one since it’s a collection and not one fic, but self-imposed limitations say I can only use an author once, otherwise this list would have maybe three people on it.

Dragon Ball is a series full of patent ridiculousness, we all know this about it, but it is also a series full of these very grounded, soft moments that shine all the more because of the ridiculousness surrounding them. That they’ve got a quality of ambiguity makes them magnetic: We see and know as fact that Vegeta and Bulma eventually marry and have children, but we know next to nothing about the specifics involved in how they got there, even though the trajectory throughout the canon is believable. Kanthia’s specialty is in weaving together plausible extrapolation with what few things canon does give us to pull the mundane parts of Dragon Ball to the fore, and they do it heartbreakingly well. Of this collection, The Gods Themselves is probably my favorite, but all of them get me deep in my feelings one way or another.

Quiddity’s A Fair Exchange (Fire Emblem: Three Houses; ferdibert)

Goddess, Hubert thinks, he looks like he belongs there, and it infuriates him that he is so drawn to something so intent against heeding him.

Who doesn’t love a good merman/human romance? I know I do. Quid’s punchy, playful style gives the tale of Hubert struggling to cling to his dignity in the face of the siren song of an exceptionally bratty and beautiful mer!Ferdinand (merdinand, if you will) a delightfully colorful tone. Join them as they work out what they feel for each other--as well as the intentions of a suspicious character that’s turned up in the capital.

@transversely’s the butterfly stance (Attack on Titan; annie/eren)

She could have lived aeons without knowing what she knows now: that someone can have the disposition that she does, can face what she faces, and still choose what she couldn’t.

Though this piece was written quite a while before Attack on Titan got really in depth on Annie’s story, I find that it still holds up as a melancholy look into her head--particularly where it concerns her connection with Eren, and through Eren with herself and her mission. As much as I hate to leave this recommendation hanging vague, it does by its nature contain a lot of really pertinent spoilers, so I advise holding off on this one until you’ve gotten through the canon covered through the end of the first anime season (I don’t off the top of my head remember what that translates to in manga chapters). Trust me, it’s worth the restraint.

@queenieofaces’ linear time is fake; you can only trust your fists (JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure; jotaro character study)

Jotaro just persists. There’s nothing laudable about outliving everyone around him.

If you’re in the market for a dealing-(badly)-with-trauma narrative that does unsettling things with the concept of time, here’s your story. I’m a personal fan of exploring the inner workings of ‘stoic’ characters, especially when those inner workings are a total, possibly-spirit-possessed disaster, and this one’s fantastic. 

@isozyme’s we are the reckless (Homestuck; vriska/aradia space au)

“What the fuck is your deal?” she asked. “I’m Vriska fucking Serket, traitor to the New Crown, the one and only Two Faced Bitch, the Scourge, and I am old as balls and I have killed shit twice your size, and I am ordering you to get us into space without exploding our sorry meatsacks in the process, because I am the boss of you!”

The helmsman’s pupils were narrow slits and she was breathing hard, but her gaze tracked Vriska across the small room. She was beautiful and dangerous, like a pit viper or a lieutenant with a soft heart. Vriska had put down a lot of beautiful and dangerous things. “I’m Aradia,” the helmsman said. “And I don’t care.”

Sometimes a fic is a fragment of a much larger story that will never be told in its entirety, but in truth the fragment is all you need. Vriska is a fugitive from justice. Aradia is the helmsman of the ship she steals to flee on. Their flight is dogged by misfortune and ghosts from both of their pasts, which somehow is soil fertile enough for trust--however tentative--to germinate. This story draws you in (if you’re like me) with curiosity about the setting, and keeps you along for the ride with beautiful turns of phrase. And at the end you’ll wonder: what comes next? Ultimately, that’s for you to daydream about.

@thornescratch’s How to Succeed in Sexual Blackmail Without Really Trying (Final Fantasy VII; reno/cloud)

“My life,” Cloud said slowly, “is sometimes indescribably strange.”

Rufus looked at him and there was nothing but sincerity in his eyes. “Oh, Strife, you have no idea.”

And then, sometimes a fic is one of those ones you reread whenever you need a laugh. Thorne excels at tart, deadpan anecdotal humor and describing the totally-insane-when-you-step-back-and-think-about-it mess that is Cloud Strife and the people he knows. One of whom is Reno, whose knowledge of what blackmail actually is is debatable, who is freakishly persistent, and who is--to the detriment of the possibility of a headacheless existence--utterly irreverent and inappropriate. And somehow, it’s charming. Who knew.

AlienYak’s I’m a fucking genius, and I can’t stop contradicting myself (Eyeshield 21; agon/hiruma)

The expression on Hiruma’s face when he turns away is the defeated one Agon had once wanted to see, once coveted and ruined three lives to get near. And now that it’s right there in front of him, he doesn’t know what to do with it, except to walk away.

Agon mourns for his genius and sanity whilst trying to solve the problem of Hiruma. That is: Hiruma’s presence, his draw, and why the fresh hell he feels the way he feels about him. Because he’s an asshole, he has a lot of trouble with it. Because Hiruma’s also an asshole, he doesn’t make it easy on either of them. Sometimes the relationship is just not very healthy and sometimes that’s why it’s fascinating.

So concludes my list! I highly recommend checking out other works from all the authors listed here, every one of them have multiple incredibly good stories to tell and it would be a shame to only let one or two of them see the light of day. Hope I did an adequate job selling all these!

#klapollo #sakuatsu #grimmichi #vegebul #hanvi #ferdibert #hiruagon #fic rec #ace attorney #haikyuu #bleach #dbz #attack on titan #fe3h #fire emblem #jjba #homestuck #ffvii #ff7 #es21 #eyeshield 21 #bizarre adventures #this took TOO many months. good lord.

[h0unds-of-h3ll]

I posted 115 times in 2022

That's 105 more posts than 2021!

104 posts created (90%)

11 posts reblogged (10%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@foxilayde

@inklore

@plumforpersephone

@headfullofpresley

@h0unds-of-h3ll

I tagged 109 of my posts in 2022

Only 5% of my posts had no tags

#xreader - 49 posts

#asks are always appreciated - 46 posts

#inbox is always open - 41 posts

#h0unds of h3ll responds - 39 posts

#fanfic - 25 posts

#send me asks - 25 posts

#smut - 22 posts

#oscar issac x reader - 20 posts

#elvis presley x reader - 18 posts

#oscar issac hernandez estrada - 17 posts

Longest Tag: 39 characters

#the unbearable weight of massive talent

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Golden

Javi’s been gone from you for business. When he comes home, he makes it up to you the only way he knows how.

Javi Gutierrez x reader smut.

Word count: 6k

Viewers beware you're in for a scare with the: angst, fluff, smut, drug use, alcohol consumption, a few little spanks, unprotected sex, nipple play, edging, biting, bruising, fingering, almost blowjob, spitting, inappropriate use of travel vodka, eating out, smoking, shotgunning, recorded sex, sugar daddy themes, boat sex, exhibition, the term *daddy*, language & explicit themes, age gap, jealousy.

A/n: I couldn't resist writing something about him, sorry not sorry. Very minimal Spanish, I took two courses in High school so, apologies for miscommunications!!

He’s been away on a business trip for a week and a half. 10.5 days, 252 hours, and 15120 minutes. Not that you were counting. He lied. He said- promised even, that he wouldn’t be gone longer than four days. You became discouraged when the week rolled into another. This has been the longest he's been away from you. His promises left his tongue, with none of them being true. You have loved Javi ever since you’ve met him. But if you would’ve told your younger self that he would mean so much to you, you would’ve laughed. Here you are sitting on one of Javi’s lavish balconies staring off into the sunset. You’re dressed in one of his blouses, the smell of him barely lingers. The extravagant cologne that you were pretty sure was older than you barely hung on. You wanted to cry.

It was heartbreaking to be so far away from someone who makes you feel alive. You scroll through the many messages shared with him. Trying to reminisce about the feeling during that time. His “I love you” “I miss you” “Mi Princesa” makes your heart twist. Your stomach tears at the more- scandalous texts. Pictures are exchanged, scantily clothed, not clothed at all. Words in his mother’s tongue make your skin set on fire. And then nothing at all. You’ve reached the beginning. You deflated against the wooden chair. Thinking about throwing away your phone seemed like a great idea. Javi would buy you a newer one without questioning you. It was so uniquely him, his love language. He would walk in, and your face would be stoic, but he would know.

By looking at you, he knew everything. He read you better than yourself, the way he ravaged you the same. Maybe that’s it. Spending meaningless encounters with younger counterparts never made you feel the way he does. Makes you feel as cherished and wanted as he does. All you can wish is for him to come home. His big brown dopey eyes, messy curls, broad shoulders, and too warm aura haunts you. Along with his scraggly facial hair. The scratches and burns. The moans that come deep inside you when his mouth travels your skin. You close your eyes, you can feel your thighs dampen. Your palm vibrates furiously, ringing his tone, showing his name. Suddenly, life doesn’t feel as bad anymore. 

~~~

Your stomach is full and heavy. Your wishes have been answered. Javi made his arrival shortly after that call. After having the best sex in your life, he grabbed your hand and ran to the nearest restaurant. Soon after, the greatest idea popped into his thick skull. Which led you here; on his boat and clad with the most lavish swimsuit known to man. It barely covered anything. It held jewels that glistened in the sun. You were unsure when he first offered it to you. His encouragement and eager words made you slip it on.

In a certain move, your nipple could pop out from the top. The bottoms were almost comical. The small stretch of fabric laid itself between your cheeks and high on your hips. Your core's soft lips were threatening to peek out. But the way Javi looked at you. The way his eyes darkened with lust. When he lifted his sunglasses from his eyes to fully look at you without the tint, it made it worthwhile. You’ve tried to deny his gifts for how expensive they are. In return, he would pout, asking why you didn’t like it.

Which was completely untrue, but in his head, that’s the only reason you deny such a thing. You’re slightly still resentful over his absence, but you try not to fret when you have him. Your heart hammers in your chest. You’re not sure if it’s the drugs, the alcohol, or just him that does it. You welcome it anyway. You sink into him, your head on his barren, wide thigh. The top half of your body is in his lap. Your head is ever so close to his speedo-covered cock.

His paunchy stomach rubs against the temple of your head. The ends of his beige button-up touch your face when he breathes. You’re sprawled out in the little booth for him. You almost drool over him every time you look at him. He was just that erotic. If you were to think about it, his collarbones could get you off. Tingles run down your spine.

The leather seat of his boat sticks to you. He draws a puff of smoke from the blunt. The green embers fall off the long cigarette. He’s careful to tap the debris off the side of the boat. His chest stills as he holds the venom in his lungs. You stare up at him in awe. His eyes are hidden by some name-brand sunglasses. His hair is slicked back from his previous swim. Droplets roll down his skin and bead down his stomach. The sliver of his button-up is easily the hottest thing ever. It’s a hint, just a glimmer of him. You breathe shallowly, the sight burns you inexplicably. He tilts his head to the orangery sky. His plump lips part and smoke billows from him. It’s beautiful, everything about it. Him, the clouds he makes, but mostly him. Something romantic and slow plays on the system you had to set up.

Even if you dated such a luxurious older man, it had some costs to it. You’re not saying that it's a bad thing in the slightest, it’s just adding something to him. You can’t explain it, you just have to be there to understand. He taught you the words to this song. You squirm on him, you know all the words. He does too, the song was hot and loud, to say the least. It represents him perfectly. His stomach jiggles softly as he smiles. Those perfect fucking white teeth peek underneath the hair on his face. His elbow rests on the side of the boat as he drags another draw from the drug. His hand nearest to you falls from the top of the seat to the expense of your tummy.

He fended off any insecurity you had, the way you felt about your body was quickly ridden with the way he devoted love to it. If jealousy were to spout its ugly head over the women he did business with, he’d quickly whisk you away to remind you who he belongs to. His long fingers spread across to cover more skin. His hand is warm, and the touch nearly pulls you out of your body. You want more- need more. He leans down to your face, flicking the but of the cigarette into the water below. His face is close to yours. His long nose brushes against yours. The hand on your stomach rises and you rub your thighs together.

Your doe eyes can see the reflection in the glasses. You look so little and a mess. Your hair is knotted, and your skin is crimson from the sun and the drugs. You can’t think coherently, his head tilts. You close your eyes, lips parting for him. You think he’s going to kiss you, make out with you even. The warm and strong-smelling smoke makes its way from his mouth and over to yours. You breathe the drug in, the spark in your lungs ignites and God it feels good.

He leans back when he’s done. He seems smug about the way he’s teased you. One of his eyebrows perked up. His age shows when the lines on his forehead are shown. You don’t know what it is about him being older, maybe it’s the taboo but it’s simply sex embodied. His fingers draw meaningless shapes around your naval. His cheeks are flushed and you can barely make it out on his dark skin but you see it. His head tilts like a puppy as he looks down at you. 

“So eager for me, Princesa.”

His hand trails lower, flattening your abdomen. Your breath hitches, as his extensive finger dips into the band of your panty. He smirks, loving how greedy you are for him. He wants to frame the image he sees. Such a good girl for him. 

“Have I have not fulfilled you?” 

Your lips fall as his hand grows deeper, closer to your sensitive bud. You clench your thighs harder together. 

“I- please.”

You give up knowing if you tried to speak, it would make your desperation known. The boat sways along the wakes of water. His tongue licks his bottom lip, his other hand coming to push fallen hairs off your forehead. You’re just so pretty like this for him. He knows that you’re younger than most women he’s been with. Something about the way you’re always inviting him into you, up to all his adventures, has him going. He’s been told he’s too much, too excited over life. You’ve only encouraged it.

And that alone makes him feel hopelessly in love. He’s absolutely torn from being away from you. Hates absolutely despises it. But he'd rather have you in his satin sheets than in a sketchy life-threatening hotel with him. He’s thought about going cold turkey and running away with you, but he knows Lucas would find him. He cherishes these moments with you, where he can get away from it all and just enjoy you. Well, he thought. The intercom's sound turns to static, and a ringing of a phone somewhere in the boat buzzes. Great.

He gives you a look mixed between a pout and an apology. You don’t know what you feel, but anger and sorrow are prominent. His hand lifts from you. He sags into the corner of the booth. You get off him walking to the bow of the boat. You wrap your arms around yourself. He promised once again that he wouldn’t let work invade tonight. You feel lied to and stupid. Gabriela’s stern voice comes through. Something involving the whereabouts of Nic.

You watch with clouded eyes how the sunbeams off the water. It’s entrancing, the particles moving back and forth and the colors combining to become one. You understand that you shouldn’t be upset with him, but you are. It’s almost as of late that he’s been consumed with work. It was fun, the money, and drugs, but you’d rather have him than anything.

You were confident in your relationship with him. He’s told you he’s loved you while sheathed deep inside you. Worshiped you even, but sometimes like these, you felt like you didn’t matter to him. Tears brimmed your eyes. Even in Spain’s heat, you felt cold, too exposed. Your arms leave you and wrap around the glass. You lean on it, your current anchor. Suddenly you wished to be back in your- Javi’s room buried underneath thick blankets. It heightened your senses by the tainted blood running through you. You can feel him before he even touches you. His arms wrap around your midsection and his face is shoved into the side of your neck. He rubs his scruff on your skin.

His lips press deep, wet kisses along the length of your neck. You try to stay angry, but you can’t. His nose digs into the meat of your neck as his teeth nip the sensitive spot behind your ear and you break. Your arms fall to lace over his. Your small fingers dip in the junctions of his big ones. Your body shudders on him, the material of his shirt on your back raises goosebumps. He groans into your ear, holding you tighter to him. He sways his lips, almost in a slow form of dance. He closes his eyes, breathing you in. Fuck, you smell good. The most potent thing he’s ever smelt. It’s slightly hidden from the smell of drugs but all of a sudden he’s a bloodhound. You could be miles away and he could find you. He doesn’t care if you’re mad at him or if you fight. He’ll always make it up to you in more ways than one. Always being drawn back to you. He doesn’t speak for a few minutes, just burning this moment in his brain. It’s peaceful. His strong jaw lies on your shoulder. His lips brush against your ear when he does speak. 

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617 notes - Posted May 4, 2022

#4

Sandman

 Steven meets you and it changes his life forever, it changes yours too. 

 Virgin! Steven Grant x reader x Marc Spector smut.

 Word count: 23k  

 Viewers beware you’re in for a scare with the: Tooth rotting fluff, Steven is a creep low-key, smut, noncon, angst, daydreams, mental illness, limited knowledge of DID, language, explicit themes, a hellish slow burn, bad puns, self deprecation, making out, praising, clothed grinding, rough smut, tender loving, dirty talk, fingering, belt spankings, somnophilia, blow jobs, overstimulation, creampies, dumbification, teasing, eating out, choking, hair pullling, kidnapping, breeding kink, hint of anal, bondage, spitting, manhandling, restraints, HIS DAMN CHAIN, innocence kink/corruption kink? dark themes, scratching, sexual innuendos, taboo, manipulation, domestic violence, stalking, murder, ed, and many more things that could be triggering!

 A/n: I am absolutely sorry for being away but you get this masterpiece in return! This is the longest fucking filthy thing I’ve ever written, I love Steven what can I say. This is loosely based around ep 1 of Moon Knight. To sum this up I’m just so desperate for Oscar and decided to share it with you. So, enjoy!

   The glare of the golden beams impelled him just right in his spectacle-covered eyes. He checks the analog clock jostled far enough under the mountain of books to see he was late once again. Getting lost in the far-distanced world of Egypt. He sighs, rubbing his temples with his right hand and his left holding his glasses by a leg. They were tipping over the book he was reading. Not only that, but he grumbles something out under his breath, tucking his library card to hold his place in the book as he shoves it into his satchel. He gets up from the wobbly chair and over to Gus. He pauses before he gives the fish its food. Wondered if Gus had his own thoughts, his own feelings. Now Steven understood that the misconception of fish was highly falsified.

  Maybe that’s why he adored the small chromatic thing. It, too, could understand the complications of being…misconstrued. Especially one with only one fin. How hellish of a world Gus must live in. He stared at the small tank. Perhaps he should get another one. Gus hadn’t been eating for quite a while. Could he be stressed? Could fish even get stressed? He didn’t know he grabbed the cylinder from the same table Gus was on and took the lid off and sprinkled the disgusting flakes over the brim of Gus’ ocean. 

  He’d rather you to not ask how he found out the flakes were disgusting. He planned to pop in by the fish store after work if he had time and, by the looks of it he didn’t have any at all. He pursed his lips together in thought. Such a small creature was his only friend. It was sad, sure, although Steven enjoyed his own company. Even if it was a bit lonely, then again, he had Gus. He waved at the tank before wishing Gus a good day. He liked to think that Gus waved back to him.

  He locked his door and broke into a not-so-subtle sprint towards the elevator. The doors enclosed before him. He watched in horror, wishing for his feet to not slow down. He felt as if his ankles were being sunken into quicksand with each step into the gray carpet of the corridor. The weight became unbearable. He was about halfway before he accepted his fate. He shouted out for whoever was in there to stop the door for him. (He didn’t take in the fact that he rarely has ever seen someone using the lift.) 

 He pushed forward. He could feel the heat from the failed wiring touch his skin. Burning him with energy. He was sort of taken aback when he watched a small hand dart out, almost being sandwiched between the giant metal doors. His shoulders deflated, and he smiled a lopsided grin, relieved to know he wouldn’t be set back an hour or two by taking the stairs. 

  Although he was star-struck as the doors opened to reveal one of the most stupefying people he ever laid his eyes on. A soft smile was gifted to him. The sight was a blessing as well. A woman with soft eyes admired him from afar. He didn’t think that of himself. Someone admires him. It was laughable, but the way the woman was had his stomach twisting a certain way. A way that he'd only felt once or twice in his life. A way that made his mouth gape open like Gus’. He just gawked at the woman. She was as stunning or more stunning than Hathor. He didn’t have a single thought in his brain. It was like witnessing a great disaster occur. He wants to run and hide, but he simply cannot look away. Everything about the woman was perfect. The way her hair fell from her head. Her lips were painted a deep red. Her sundress fell about an inch-no-an inch and a half below her knee. It was such a beautiful color that complimented her skin and her lips. Oh, so delicately he could study her forever. He wondered where she was going dressed so nicely, and if he would see her again. 

  Seconds turned into ticking minutes as he stood there. He probably looked like a creep. Goggling at a woman with no dignity. He wouldn’t have noticed the lift was moving if she hadn’t said anything. Her voice, don’t let him get started. It sounded like the most delicate piece of music he’s ever heard. He shuffles into the corner with a slight blush burning his tanned cheeks. His hands grip his satchel with such a serious grasp that his knuckles started to turn white. He was nervous, to say the least. The way her perfume, which smelled like roses, wafted into his nose, made him hysterical. He fell in love with the scent right then and there. She must have been new. There was no other way he wouldn’t have noticed her before. She was so unique, such a refresher, to have something new come into his mundane life. He was nearly choking on air like a fish out of water. His eyes stared forward as a soldier would in the field. 

  He closed his eyes tightly, wishing the feeling of uneasiness to flee. He takes several, several, deep breaths in. He feels like he’s going to faint. He couldn’t just leave this moment without knowing who this mysterious woman was. So he decides to have small talk. Shit. The worst decision of his life. He has nothing to talk about. Until his monkey cymbal led brain scrambles to one thing in particular. The reason he got here was that she held the door open with such generosity. Most people wouldn’t go out of their way for him in the slightest. She was just different. He wanted to be someone else, so he mustered all that, pushed down courage, and acted like someone else. 

  “I-I- t-thanks for holding the doors.”

  He wants to bash his head into the metal container. He feels slightly at ease. He didn’t completely fuck everything up. Although he feels warmth crawl up his spine and onto his neck. He’s sweating bullets. Was it always this hot in the lift? He looks like he’s in one of Egypt’s deserts by the way he looks absolutely exhausted. Thick droplets of sweat raced down his neck, his veins being highlighted with such urgency by them. Dark purple ones stretch down his collarbone and down in between his clavicles. The dainty gold chain was smothered by the rain of them. He curses himself when his dark gaze hovers over to her, picking at a sticker left by some juvenile on the wall. He wants to cry.

  He wrings the strap of the satchel as he devises a plan. He worked so hard the first time in attempting to speak with her just to be shut down? Classic. His brain goes into a convulsion. He wants to know her name. But how is he supposed to get it when he can’t even speak to her? His anxiety hits an all-time high as the numbers illuminated in a dark red decrease. He had about a floor left to make his move, or he’d never see you again. He almost outright has a heart attack by the way his heart thrums against his chest. Then everything holds to a halt and time stops. She turns with the loveliest smile he’s ever witnessed, and she turns with her hand out. 

  “I’m Y/n. Y/n L/n.”

  Your accent isn’t like the people he hears every day. It’s eager and bold. His hand that’s not taken by the strap shakes when he takes yours. He almost punches himself as he realizes his hand is most likely clammy from his dilemma. He hopes you don't notice, what would you make of him from it. Although every thought in his head leaves once more. Shit. Yours is so much more delicate, softer, smaller.  His brain can’t even track what’s happening, as he just gawks at the exchange of touch. The doors chime open, and he realizes he has to say something-anything. 

  “S-Steven.”

  Your hand falls to your waist. He points to the hand that once held yours to himself as he said his name, pointing his index to his chest. Like a preschooler figuring out how to introduce themselves for the first time. You smile at him, beaming with pearly whites underneath the red. He takes notice of the way your nose scrunches when you smile. Hell, the action is like the sun hitting him. You nod your head in accord.

  “I hope I see you around, Steven.” 

  You grasp his forearm, the one that was holding the strap and squeeze slightly as a farewell and whisk it away. The smell of you leaving the lift, he wanted to bottle it and keep it. The image of your sundress bouncing with every step was burned into his mind. 

~~~

  Steven rushes through the enormous doors and stretches his legs as much as he can in quick strides. His broad hands gripping the strap unyielding. He curses under his breath, his eyes wildly flashing amongst artifacts and mummies. He was scanning the room for Apep (for Donna.) Strands of dark curls soaked into his forehead as he shuffles past people. Polite inquisitions were spat from his tongue. He swore it fell on deaf ears as he fled. His feet shuffled against the tile, sounding his presence.

  His deep brown eyes searched for the tarnished gift shop. Once they fell on the store, his chest deflated and his strides slowed. Another day at the shop, he guessed, it wasn’t to him. He had met you. He smiled softly to himself at the memory of you. Beautiful, polite you. He bowed his head, walking into the store. His hopes lifted as only a few people were cast aimlessly throughout the small store. He whisked behind the desk as a ghost would behind a bannister. Maybe he was a ghost inside a world full of boisterous living. He shook his head as he crouched down, his hands pulling the strap over his head and into the cubby. He felt vulnerable in some capacity without it- his security blanket. His fingers pinched the metal rectangle and pulled the pin through his jacket. He would lose his own head if it wasn’t attached. He smirked at the ridiculous insinuation. 

~~~

  Hours turned into endless amounts of swiping, inputting numbers, and ‘thanks come again’ with a smile that he didn’t mean. Every single thought revolved around you. You ate him up inside and the only thing he said was his name. The way you spoke the syllables on your sweet tongue made the collar of his shirt tight. He wrings it free with his index. He loved the way your shoulders connected to your neck, your jawline in the perfect symmetry of your body. You held both masculine and feminine energy balanced with a twinge of something he couldn’t place. You were just uniquely..you. He pondered about whether you knew how to dance to the slow music he likes. 

  If you like singing while you cook. If you liked guys like him. His cheeks were painted with a dusty rose color. He grinned with ease. You made him feel that life wasn’t all that terrible. All throughout the day, you occupied his mind. Scenarios and what if’s danced inside his mind. He was intrigued by their different sensations. The sun’s once bright stature turned into a burnt orange cascading throughout the windows of the museum. All he knew was that his shift was almost over. He could go through the pet shop and do miscellaneous hobbies he indulged in. Well, that was before an eager man in what Steven presumed to be late forties waltzed up with an item. A pyramid, Steven’s scanned thousands of them before. What was different was the knob’s accusation of small talk.

  “You know aliens built tha pyramids?”

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897 notes - Posted April 5, 2022

#3

Top girl

Blue has taken a liking to you. Little did you know it would turn into an obsession.

Blue Jones x shy! reader smut.

Word count: 13k

Viewers beware you’re in for a scare with: heavy angst, heavy smut, rough smut, coercion, sexual assault, dark themes, mentions of prostitution, cockwarming, degrading, a bit of exhibition, spanking, language & explicit themes, abuse of power, thigh riding, doggy, hitting, talk of abuse, kinda fluffy, innocence kink, threats, unprotected sex, cuninglingus, praising, alcohol, stuff being broken, yelling, smoking, masochism, collars, clothed grinding, groping, masturbation, use of dildo, orgasm control, mutual masturbation.

A/n: I am 1000% not sorry for this filthy thing. My baby, easily my favorite fic of mine. You’re called mouse a lot in this fyi. Also Ezra from Prospect is in this. Can be an au?

   You watch them twirl and stretch in various ways. Girls in corsets, faux silk dance around you. Your beige skirt and worn shirt puts you to shame. You didn’t arrive with much of anything, just the clothes on your back. It’s only been half a day, but from what you’ve seen was enough. You were instantly walked into this orchestrated business and given orders to just watch. You didn’t speak and nodded when spoken to. Eyes glossed over with a hazy hue. You’ve grown familiar with the nicknames to keep their identity hidden. The Doctor and the doll were the only people who had shown you kindness. You’re new here, your head tilted to the wood floor.

Reluctant, even excited deep down. It’s new and the first day of the rest of your life. A melody booms from the make shift speaker. A routine you don’t know, but the girls do it with perfection. Observe and execute is the order you remember for verbatim. The Doctor’s words run through your head. The brief interview and briefing of rules, given with a flick of a hand. A sharp hit of her cane. Your position was to be a fly on the wall and nothing more. You’ve grown nauseous from knowing there was someone higher. The Doctor referred to him as Mr. Pleasant. The mention of a meeting with him ran your blood cold. Goosebumps rising on your flesh. God, you were in for it. Just the whisper of his name has you shivering. 

   Even through her rough demeanor, you can see that the Doctor truly cared about her performers. Sharp barks turn into a gradual push. Praises spew from her painted lips after the group finally gets the difficult quotidian. As you watch these masters perform, you almost hide. You’re cowering under the intimidating demonstration. You try to swallow but you get choked up. The small room almost shifts as you grow ‌disoriented. A gentle palm touching your back makes your head jerk.

The older girl that you now are fond of smiles at you. She knows how you feel, how tamed you are. She was in your place at one point. That time felt like decades ago. She grieved over finding someone like her, someone so innocent. She’s determined to console you, to preserve you. You know little, since you’ve only spent a few hours here. But you can get a decent idea of how this place works. Her hair is messy and damp with sweat. White strands carelessly thrown into the ties on the sides of her head. She looks rough, yet like an angel. She’s been working to her breaking point, but she’s still going. A couple of other girls, she has mentioned, have been worked to the bone. She points them out, and it’s only a shell of the person who they once were. A sickly feeling grows in your stomach. You admire her ambition. Most of the other girls have given up on the act. It’s sad, but the truth. She runs her long fingernails along the length of your arm. 

   “Are you okay?”

    Her heavenly voice calmly coos. You nod, never looking into her eyes. She frowns before casting a knowing look. The nervousness twists in your stomach and you want to cry. You’re scared of what’s to come. The men- beasts, who you’re going to serve, horrifies you. You’ve watched the way they eat the girls here. It’s only time before it’s your turn. How the hosts' dark eyes linger on you. The burn, all of it stabs at your gut, then blossoms into a desperate warmth. Your cheeks grow rosy. Baby pins it on the anxiety and she takes your hand in hers. 

     “Let’s get out of here.”

     She knows there are few places to go, but anywhere then here will suffice. She tugs on your hand and before you know it, you’re leaving out those enormous doors. With dirty glares thrown your way. She’s tugging you too hard for you to care. You feel heavy, your knees wobbly on thick heels and filled with adrenaline, curious about the beginning. 

~~~

Your hasty getaway has cut off. A staff member whisking you away and the pale girl giving you a sorrowful look. She’s spilled everything she knows to you. The deaths, the corruption and greed. It was the failure of the past. The renewal of the updated version. You feel like a criminal who just committed a scandal. The guilt plugs up your throat. A single look in your direction makes you feel immense ‌shame. Your mouth will open and you’ll speak on command. You don’t know how you’re going to last with this crucial idea. You don’t think you’ll last very long at all. You don’t need to list all the reasons you think you’ll fail. The biggest one was that you had a poker face in a window. It’s seen through ‌blatantly. Your heels make you cringe when you near a metal door. 

“Get the food then serve it to Boss. Wait until further demand.”

The man in white says lazily behind you before leaving. You lick your lips before picking up the courage to push the cold door open. You’re met with a barely sanitized kitchen. Leaks and hisses of gas are spewed throughout the room. A large man with a clever in hand, takes quick notice of the new meat entering his space. He likes the way your chin is jutted deep into your chest, how small you try to make yourself. He raises his hand and sticks the metal into the side of a cutting board. He pivots and grabs a dirty rag, wiping the grime off his fat fingers. Your eyes flick across, taking everything to memory. You have a funny feeling you’ll be in here more than you wish. You feel his beady eyes stare holes into your skin. It makes you shrink if that was possible. He leans on the back of the sink. 

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Like he cares, his voice is groggy filled with mucus. You ghost an expression. He carelessly takes it. You don’t respond and irritation runs up his red face. 

“I don’t think you’ll last long here.”

He rounds the corner to walk to you. The potent smell of meat and his body odor make you gag. Your cheeks puff and he reaches his hand out to touch you. The pudgy fingers come to your cheek. You feel tears brim your eyes, his breath fanning over your face. The putrid smell will haunt you. 

“Boss likes his girls feisty.”

His large hand cups your cheek. He jerks your head up to look at him. He tilts your face, examining you. Picking your features apart, making a note of the things he likes and doesn’t. The large man's face is only a few inches from yours. 

“But what do I know? He might like the change.”

His lips curl into a smile. He’s taunting you, seeing how he can shape you into being complacent. The cook isn’t a nice man, but he wasn’t as bad as the boss. If you’re getting scared of this, then you have another thing coming. Water boils in the distance with a high scream. He breaks from you; he goes back behind the make table. The standard food is being brought out by him. He slides it over to where you stand. Your head bowed. You hadn’t moved an inch during this entire encounter. 

“Better get going, little girl. Boss doesn’t have much patience.”

~~~

The plate weighs heavily on your small hands. The clicking sound of your heels hits your ears with every step. A ticking bomb setting off your destination. The establishment was large, yeah, but it was easily memorable. Everything was labeled with ‘staff’ or ‘restricted’ so you made your way past those. It’s eerily quiet. Not a sound is made other than your shoes. Not a single ounce of chitter chatter, just you. You supposed it was evening because of his dinner, so why was it so quiet? It made your skin crawl and your head dizzy.

The blood pours out of the slab of meat on the porcelain. If you stared at it long enough, you could feel the biles in your stomach form. You look side to side looking for any hint of where you should deliver this to. You nearly trip when you find the gold plaque reading ‘mr. pleasant.’ Your heart rate picks up and you suddenly can’t breathe. You swallow thickly, maneuvering the chilling plate between your ribs and wrist as you pull your hand to rap three consecutive knocks.

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1,084 notes - Posted May 23, 2022

#2

Lover’s exchange

After submitting your final. Jonathan’s more than intrigued as to where the inspiration comes from.

Jonathan Levy x reader smut.

Word count: 8k

Viewers beware you’re in for a scare with the: fluff, smut, rough smut, VERY EXPLICIT, age gap, fingering, blow jobs, eating out, unprotected sex, gagging, anal play, ass eating, overstimulation, coercion, consenting adults, power control, breeding kink, recorded masturbation, explicit language & themes, dark themes, drinking, smoking, rough smut, hair pulling, scratching, Jonathan is not as innocent as he seems, teasing, porn? Porn, teacher x student, somnophilia, implied face sitting, sensory deprivation kinda.

A/n: I literally took the idea of him being a professor and fucking ran full throttle with it. Can be an au! I guess. Head empty just him. Just a disclaimer that I’m not in college and nor have any idea what consists there. I apologize for any misconstrued ideologies! Most is written in the 3rd pov.

“A passionate encounter, one that has never been replicated since. That is what I want you to write about.”

He rolls the sleeves of his cardigan up to his elbows. The few students scattered throughout the small auditorium. He knows they’re not listening, but he continues nonetheless. 

“It can be with a spouse, a stranger, anything really. I’m giving you the freedom to express a feeling only you have felt so incomparable to anyone else.”

The electronic bell he’s grown to despise rattles. His students billow out into the side door, to their next seminar. He plops into the wheely chair with a long elongated sigh. He hopes it came across well, the prompt of their final. A feeling twists in his gut, not even half listening to him. He wants to help them prosper. He’s a lenient professor, one of the most laid back on the board. But there’s only so much he can brush past. Late work that’s a month overdue, students pleading for him to turn an F into a B- is exhausting. He takes his glasses off, hanging his head into his palms. He’s trying desperately to wipe away the misery that's clinging to his features. The soft sounds of shoes patting the ground. The loud chit-chat of the pupils communicating through the corridor. He fails to hear you sneak up on him. 

“Professor?”

His head whips upwards to the chirp of your elegant voice. Your hands tied around your school bag. A gentle smile creasing your cheeks. Hair flowing like a drape of a veil. Easy going on his aging eyes. His brain inputs into hyper drive, admiring you. You’re the only student who cares about their work. Who asked questions, who listened intently to the subject he taught. He’s taken a kindness to you that he has given no one else. Rounding up those fives into one hundred.

Giving you that plus you didn’t need, but makes your transcript look more polished. You never spoke to him about subjects outside of education. But you always came to him to broaden your knowledge to keep your work proficient. You’re smart and charming. Pulchritudinous even. (A word that he came across in your work that means beautiful.) He feels immense guilt. Pushing his blurred gaze to the side of his desk. More suitable for the atmosphere. He shouldn’t think of you in such a way. He can’t help it now matter how hard he tries. 

“Yes? What is it?”

His voice is short and snappy. Cutting the rope that he’s tethered to. He punches himself for how your smile drops to a vacant expression. 

“I was wondering how uhm,”

You pause. Brows knitted on your smooth forehead. You look for the words that aren’t immature in the phrasing. 

“How much vulgar use you would allow.”

There's that sheepish smile again. He chokes on his saliva, blind eyes widening. The long curve of his nose is where he pushes his glasses back. He sees your unmasked beauty, and he’s sputtering. An unknown speech impediment develops as he racks his dumbfound skull for an answer. He loses the suaveness of a preceptor and the eager man he truly is comes to play. 

“I-, as long as it’s a salient contribution to the plot. As much as you’re comfortable with, I suppose.”

He applauds himself for coming off the slightest bit as composed. What do you mean by vulgar? Maybe you wanted to include paraphernalia or explicit language. But what if- you wouldn't, you are too put together to even indulge. But what if? You nod swiftly. Brightness swims in your eyes. 

“Thank you, pedagogue.”

Your idyllic body pivots walking through the big twin doors. He lets out a heavy heave exit his lungs, one that he didn’t realize he was holding. He leans down, pressing his febrile forehead onto his desk. He’s stupefied by the title. Pedagogue, really? He praised himself for being benevolent and you thought that he was austere? A new, fresh hoard of scholars enter his domain. He groans, wanting to bash his cranium into the wood. He doesn’t know how to feel. But the only thing he can think about while teaching his course is feeding you grapes in a lavish room in Israel. 

~~~

A week and a half later, Jonathan is sprawled out on his couch. A wine glass in hand, shitty cable on demand playing some nonsense. A pair of grey joggers low on his hips, a dark earthy tone sweater on shoulders. All wrapped together with a thin white chain with the Star of David draped on his sternum. He doesn’t really know why he wears it anymore. He doesn’t feel like he treasures his faith, cast from the religion. He doesn’t hold the practice to his heart. Especially not after the occurrences with Mira. The exact reason he sits alone in this big empty house.

Longing for Daughter’s presence. A distant glow of his laptop on the coffee table in front of him, pleading for him to do something, anything. His heart torn from the absent wishes of wanting his life to be different. Filled with artificial happiness. Loneliness puts him in a corner with no escape. He’s grown accustomed to the feeling, throughout his failed marriage, he knows it all too well. Ridden by the pain of it, something unfamiliar takes its place. Something stronger than isolation. Desolation. He’s felt like this for so long that he’d forgotten that there are other emotions. Like jouissance, similar to having a penchant for something. To have it for you. He knows deep down that it’s wrong.

Fuck he knows, he does and it will kill him. Shouldn't think of his student in such a desirous manner. But he can’t stop. Ever since you walked yourself into his class, he hadn’t gotten you out of his head. Daydreams he's living in with you. Different past lives he could’ve had with you. Every waking moment you’ve plagued him. Every off hand hungry exchange with Mira, he imagines you. He can’t get away from you. A deep breath emits from him. He scratches his forehead, lost in the thought of you. His laptop pings with a buzz. It seems that the universe has answered his prayers. He straightens his posture, setting the glass on the table before pulling the computer on his lap.

He adjusts his glasses; the glow glares off the glass spheres. His house is pitch black other than the distant television and the radiance in front of his face. He sets it flat on his lap, rolling up the sleeves of his sweater. He uses the track pad and finds his notifications. You. You’ve sent him something, your email in his inbox. A pdf. Your semester final. You work his schedule like clockwork. It wasn’t due for another week and yet you’ve already finished. He’s already gotten a few messages from other disciples needing the date pushed back, but you’ve completed it. His heart soars, resembling something along the lines of being proud? No, appreciative. He remembers the words you spoke to him the day he gave the prompt. Vulgar.

How lovely you looked that day, but in his opinion you always looked like that. Somehow you looked even better that day. Chipper and gleaming like a morning dew. The cursor hovers over the link. He clicks, opening the document. The black words on a white sheet were gifted to him. Your introduction and citations at the top corner. The title in the middle. Lover’s exchange. He scrolls to the first paragraph, with a heavy heart and high hopes he begins. 

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1,647 notes - Posted May 29, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Helping hand

The biggest name in Hawkins visits you. The bully, but before you can refuse. He meets you with a proposal: help him and he’ll help you.

Steve Harrington x reader smut.

Word count: 5k

Viewers beware you’re in for a scare with the: choking *slightly, degrade and praise, talk of harassment, unprotected sex, p in v, making out, groping, manhandling, hair pulling, hickeys, scratching, explicit language & themes, finger sucking, talk of jealousy & masturbation, secret pining, enemies to lovers? Descriptions of pus, blood and bruises *see gif below, parents in the other room.

A/n: nothing. Look at him, read the filth I wrote for this goon. He’s hurt AND wAnTiNg. What a dream come true. Not really set in a specfic season sooo. This is so cheesy oh my god.

Brown boxes are scattered in your room. Some filled to the brim with memorabilia, others with clothes. The one you’re currently packing, a collection of your work. Academic medals, shoved into the bottom. It’s bittersweet having to leave for college. To become a scholar to better yourself. To get an education for a career. Your parents were more excited than you were. You were mourning over lost memories. The pictures you forced Jonathan to take. The clubs you were in with the introvert. You thought his strike against Polaroids was a bit odd, so you had to get creative in other ways. Such as sneaking, quick photos of him and Nancy. They were cute, even with the unrequited thing they’re going through. Your heart weighs heavy in your chest. Digging through the piles. As you dig, you find an old essay. One that you did for Steve Harrington. You smile. It’s funny, really the strange deal you used to have with the king. You made pretty good money from it. A’s were $100, Bs $50. Test scores were doubled. The dirty hassle lasted all throughout senior year.

It’s amazing how neither of you got caught. Now and then you’d slip up and add a word Steve most definitely didn’t know. Or some punctuation. You’re pretty sure he doesn’t know the difference between a semicolon and a colon. The most bewildering thing being that you actually got to know the person behind the hair. He was an idiot, but a charming one. You got to understand him better as you tried to tutor him. Always after school at your place, four on the dot. (It was the only window of time for your parents, both at work and school ending.) But it didn’t matter, he rarely showed. Always saying something came up.

Or when the times he showed, he was always nervous and unconcerned with the work you tried to teach. It was useless trying to teach a dog who’s too stubborn for his own good. The tricks he didn’t understand. Which leads you to do his work. You reminisces the times he would flash a sharp smile when you popped a joke. The flutter of your heart as he looked at you. The demeaning look he had when he actually tried. Shivers run up your spine as you trace your thumb over forged words. Lost in the mirage of what your life would be like if you acted on your feelings. The rattle on your window spooks you, you jump to your feet. Scurrying over to the window, your heart thumps against the cage of your chest. Trying to pump out of the flesh and bones. It’s the middle of the night, and the only light you have is the soft glow of what’s in your room. But you can make it out. Who it was. Him. The legend of your dreams. His face is casted over with dark shadows. His hair in clumps, facing every which way. It wasn’t normal for him to look so disheveled. He’s slumped over, a hand pressed to the side of your parents house. His other pushed against the side of his torso. You purse your lips together, thinking of every possibility. Your window was incredibly small, although you knew it was possible to escape through it. However, Steve was bigger than you.

Broader even so you scrambled for a better plan. You couldn’t just waltz in a foreign boy into the house. Your parents would lock you up like Rapunzel if they found out. The gentle buzz of the living room tv is a reminder that they’re home. “Date night” resolved to a movie marathon on the couch. They weren’t talking so you assumed that they were passed out. But what if they weren’t. You paced by the window. You step on your tiptoes to peer through the small rectangle. With a deep breath you unscrew the window, propping it open. The cool Night’s air prickling your skin. The air is still as humid as ever. You’re beyond confused as to why he’s here. But the urge to help clouds your judgement. Did you summon him here? It wouldn’t surprise you if you did. It wouldn’t be the craziest thing that’s happened here. As you stare down at him, he runs a shaky hand through the thick strands of his hair. A dark jacket matched with a light shirt is drenched in what you assume is blood. His or someone else’s you didn’t know. He looks to the side, wiping his cheek on his shoulder. 

”What're you doing here?”

You whisper as loud as you can. Careful to not waken your parents. Even though you're grown, you’re still terrified of them. He blinks dumbly at you. Those puppy dog eyes, bruised and busted open. It pains you to see him so broken. He looks to the ground, not able to look at you. 

“I-“

He pauses. Tears burn the backs of his eyes. Remembering the night's events has scarred him worse than it ever has. He’s honestly shocked he’s hobbled all the way to your house, but here he stands. Wobbling to the side and discombobulated. He chews on the inside of his cheek. 

“I need your help.”

~~~

It’s astonishing how he managed to fit through the window. With your “help” you tug on his hand, pulling him through. He’s tripping over your night table. He staggers a couple of steps before crouching. He cups his hands around his shin and groans. A pained wince going across his face. Now you can examine his wounds. It’s almost sickly, the long deep gashes on his temples. The short ones across his jaw and lips. One of his eyes has a big welt near the lid, it drips fresh blood into the cornea, blinding him. His skin was filled with grime and dried blood. Your heart floods with sorrow. Even if he was an ass to you, he didn’t deserve this. His head falls back on the edge of your bed. He whines high in his throat, almost a moan. You panic, placing your finger over your lips and shushing him. He’s too loud. He’s going to get you caught. With a boy in your room. Without a doubt, your parents would murder you and bury you under the house. His head whips to you. Eye(s) throwing daggers. 

“Did you just shush me?”

Fuck. Why does his voice sound so good? It’s groggy and feels like drinking Coca Cola. Butterflies form in your stomach. You push your chin into your chest and nod. Not wanting to say much else, knowing that if you do you’d expose yourself. Your eyes fall to his once white shoes. His jeans rolled up twice around his ankles. The material tattered at the end. He notices that you’ve shrunken into yourself. He feels at home. Not seeing you for months, but you haven’t changed a bit. It’s a relief to not see something defiled. He huffs, chest being stabbed with every breath. It’s quiet other than his fragile breathing. You’re as quiet as a mouse. Just observing him, trying to figure out how to fix the issue. To make him feel better. The room holds still, almost like time has frozen in place. With Steve. The idiot decides to break the trance. Turning around to attempt to lift himself off the floor. The springs of your bed croak as he uses it for support. You quickly come to his aid. Your hands come to his shoulders, helping him stand. 

“I really don’t think this is a good idea.”

You murmur, pulling him to his feet. His jaw ticks as he grinds his teeth together. Restraining himself to not just scream in agony. His feet shuffle as you push him to the chair by your desk. He falls with a choked gasp. His hand goes back to his waist, pushing. You wonder if there’s a nasty bruise forming, or worse, if he broke his ribs. Your blood runs cold. Steve looks to the side. Above your desk was a mirror, one he wished he hadn’t seen. His eyes flicker over his face. He doesn’t recognize himself. Gashes littered across his face that it hides his true form. Why does he feel so ugly, like he’s a monster? He wants to cry. You chew on your lip as you rack your brain for answers. Among the conspiracies, you can’t find a definite answer. His clothes are drenched with crimson and brown. You can’t see the major wound that’s causing such damage. The only way to find out was to get him to shed the top layers. You blush before you pull on the lapels of his jacket. The bastard smirks. The tear in his bottom lip stretching. 

“Trying to get me out of my clothes, already? I mean, I’m all for it, but I think foreplay is pretty hot.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Stomach flipping at his jest. Steve wants to sleep with you? Is that what he was insinuating? It’s comical how outrageous it was. He didn’t even bat an eye at you walking by you in the halls, and now he wants you? It made little sense. You shoved your foolishness deep down. Remembering that you’re simply here to help, not to make matters worse. You shake your head. 

“I’m trying to see where you’re bleeding.”

He nods briefly, face falling to complete stoicism. He leans forward, peeling off his jacket. His hands were shakier than when he was outside. Was he nervous? You put it that he was in shock. Your eyebrows knit together as you see him fully. Dark pools are scattered everywhere, not just one definite spot. His hand falls back to his side. 

“I can tell you one thing sweetheart, I don’t think there’s a place I’m not bleeding.”

He smiles, blood clotting around his teeth. He’s stupid, such a fuck boy with no shame. You should’ve known that’s all that he wanted from you. There’s no right for your thighs to dampen and your pussy to flutter at the pet name. His dark eyes roam over your body. Loose tee and baggy shorts, hiding the curves he knows you have. You look at ease, well before he interrupted. He likes the look of it. He wonders why he never paid you any attention. Such a sweet thing that he never gave the time to. He feels like a dork about it. But with the way you’re looking at him reminds him of his mother. Hands on hips, and face cut to stone. Your face mixed with a scowl and utmost concern. As he breathes, he can feel that broken rib poke into his palm. One thing is for sure, is that this is going to be a night he’ll never forget. 

~~~

About every medical bandage in your premise was on Steve. After you had cleaned him up with a warm rag. And after a thousand more sexual innuendos, he looks better, to say the least. Instead of cuts, his skin was now littered with bandaids. Two gauze rolls are wrapped around his waist. (The stupid bastard wouldn’t admit to it hurting, so you had to push a finger there. You seethed the moan and the way it made you feel after.)

He breathed shallowly, each breath felt like his lungs were being punctured. But you were more curious, scattered on his bare chest, that trailed down his stomach and under the waist of his blue jeans. When did that happen? Numerous times at his basketball practices did he took his shirt off. But when did he become so masculine? It was impossible for you to place your finger on it. You tried your hardest to not gawk. You dabbed the now cold rag on his most likely broken knuckles.

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1,700 notes - Posted June 9, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #fanfic writing #thank you #I’ll write more #H0unds-of-h3ll

[number1girl]

So you did literally no research on the trial and haven’t seen any of the evidence but you have a strong opinion? That sounds normal and informed.

you must be brand fucking new here. girl scroll through the past month of my blog and tell me i haven’t done research or seen the evidence lmfao. just because i was at my job (which i have because i’m a normal person and not a single cell organism just floating through twitter and tiktok absorbing every bad take i see like you) when the verdict came out and couldn’t at that very moment furiously be doing research in front of multiple monitors does not mean i don’t know what the fuck im talking about. glance at some “evidence” that isn’t a youtube video with the word EPIC in the title and then get back to me

#depp v heard /

[heartthrobohara]

hi! I love your writing, and I'm so glad I discovered your blog! Would you be willing to write a story of maybe Finn or Leo with adhd (one of my biggest hcs) and them maybe juggling that with lo's depression (one of them needing more stimulation and being hyperactive while lo needs quiet)?

Characters belong to Haz! @lumosinlove

Five hours and 34 minutes until the party.

Five hours and 33 minutes. Finn had checked his phone almost every minute. He was so excited about this party, he couldn’t even stay still for no more than five seconds.

He checked social media, leg bouncing up and down at a rapid rate, so fast it was a blur.

After a few minutes of scrolling through Twitter, he couldn’t focus. Leo was coming home soon, the party was tonight, he just couldn’t contain himself.

His stomach growled, forcing him to walk to the kitchen.

His phone buzzed.

He eagerly checked the notification, walking back to the couch and abandoning the idea of the snack.

The group chat was buzzing, everybody texting about the party and preparations for it.

As soon as the texting died down, Finn realized he was doing something.

What was it again? The lock of the door clicked and swung open.

“Le!” Finn jolted up, running to tackle Leo and pepper kisses all over his face. “I missed you!” “I was only gone for three hours, Harz,” Leo laughed, pecking him on the lips. “How’s Lo? You check on him?” Shit.

He forgot. In all the excitement he forgot.

Before Leo left, he had specifically told Finn to check on Logan. He was going through a rough patch and needed his boys for some support. “Finn?” He shook himself, realizing he zoned out again. “I’m sorry.” The guilt hit him like a puck to the face. His memory was getting worse.

Leo sighed. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault. I’ll go check on him.”

Finn nodded, Leo walking off to check on Logan.  

He waited, staring back at his reflection on the black TV screen from the couch. He felt so bad for forgetting, he felt like he let his boys down. He shifted, cracking his knuckles.

A few minutes passed, and Finn heard a door shut quietly and soft footsteps down the hall, getting closer.

“I don’t think Logan can make it to the party tonight.”

Finn’s heart sank. Finn had been looking forward to the party for many reasons, but one was to get Logan out of the house. The team always made his mood increase somewhat.

Finn felt selfish all of a sudden. He felt like he only cared for himself, not even bothering to check on Logan when he was struggling.

“It’s all my fault.” Finn leaned back, taking off the pair of tortoiseshell glasses he was wearing, setting them down on the coffee table, and burying his face in his hands. He aggressively rubbed his eyes until he saw spots dancing in his vision.

The couch dipped beside him, and soon a gentle hand was on his back. “No, no, of course not. Logan knows that.”

To Finn’s surprise, his hands came back damp. “But- but I forgot again,” his voice cracked with these words, fighting down the sob trying to claw its way out of his throat. He felt selfish for crying, too. His ADHD normally wasn’t this bad, but the forgetfulness was flaring up again.

Leo seemed to notice he was crying, because Leo wrapped an arm around him, resting his head on Finn’s back. “Oh sweetheart, it’s okay. You have struggles too, completely valid struggles. Lo and I both love you, no matter what.” Finn sniffled, taking his hands away, and furiously swiped at the tears that were gathering on the apples of his cheeks. “Does Logan know I still care about him?”

Leo gently rested his forehead against Finn’s temple, pressing a gentle kiss there. “Of course he does! He’ll never forget that.” 

He sniffed again, reaching for his glasses and adjusting them onto his face.

“We love you, okay? Now, what do you say we get ready for the party tonight, huh?”

Finn smiled, standing up. He would make this work out for all three of them.

#alice writes <3 #okuntzy #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #lumosinlove #sweater weather #vaincre

[potato-mother]

Freelance villain Shinsou is ruthless, untamed, and merciless. But when his favorite shitposter updates, he doesn’t hesitate to check his feed.

SmallMight420

We love falling asleep on the train and getting dropped off at the wrong station =D Even better, it’s in a part of town that screams “Come here if you have a knife kink”. If I don’t post again, y’all know what happened lol. someone pls find a way to delete this blog if I die, my mom doesn’t need to see the shit on here

Shinsou shook his head, stuffing the phone back into his pocket and leaping off of the roof. A part of him twinged at the thought of something happening to them, but he brushed it off. If some of what they post was any indicator, SmallMight could hold their own in a fight. At least enough to get out of any sour situations. Plus, this person definitely was smart enough to avoid anything too bad. They’d be fine.

His phone buzzed again on his way back to his hideout. After arriving and kicking off his boots, another vibration sent him over to his desktop to see what SmallMight had gotten up to in the few minutes it had taken him to return home.

SmallMight420

I’m like 90% sure that I just passed a crime scene but I didn’t want to stop and check cuz that would mean I’d have to call the police and wait for them, and that sounds for sure like a death sentence.

Shinsou scoffed, picking up the fast-food cup next to his computer and taking a long sip as he scrolled to the next post.

SmallMight420

Upside to all of this, look at the photo I was able to get! Who said having an editing app on my phone was a waste? I was able to enhance and retouch this while walking!

Shinsou expanded the image and immediately started choking on his drink.

It was him. Like, him inside of his costume and covered in blood. It was definitely from when he’d started making his way back home, but he had no idea when exactly it could have been.

Admittedly, it was an amazing picture. You could see the detailing on his clothes and the parts of his face that were visible. His eyes looked like they were glowing, brightly standing out from the backlighting he was getting from the starry sky behind him.

He shook his head to clear the thought away, immediately opening up the comments and frantically typing out a message.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING TAKING PITCURES AND SHIT?!!?/1/!??!?/1 THERE WAS LITERALLY A WHOLE FUCKIN GANG FIGHT LIKE FIVE MINUTES AGO, THIS ISN’T A SAFE PART OF TOWN?!?!/1//1!??

The comment was up for only ten seconds before he saw it get deleted. Desperately, Shinsou started typing something else out when the bell icon in the upper corner turned red with a message. He grudgingly clicked it, seeing the notification “SmallMight420 now follows you!” Followed immediately by the notification “SmallMight420 would like to open messaging with you. Accept?” he confirmed the request and opened his messages.

SmallMight420: How tf do you know where I am? Also, you spelled pictures wrong.

Shinsou took to his frantic typing once more.

FuckyHead: PAY ATTENTION TO YOUR SURROUNDINGS!!!!!

SmallMight420: I’m fine, I’m concerned with the fact that you seem to have access to my location. Yours being something that I could easily find. I’ll kindly ask you to fuck off with that, because believe me when I say there is a lot more I can do to you than you can do to me.

Without thinking, Shinsou furiously sent a response.

FuckyHead: THAT IS ME IN YOUR PHOTO!!!! OF COURSE I KNOW WHERE THE FUCK YOU ARE!!! I DON’T CARE ABOUT WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU THINK I WANT TO DO, GET OUT OF HERE AS FAST AS YOU CAN!!!!!!

There was a long pause after he sent the message and he realized what exactly it was he sent.

FuckyHead: Shit. I shouldn’t have said that.

SmallMight’s response suddenly popped through.

SmallMight420: DUDE SERIOUSLY?!?!?! YOU’RE SO COOL, HOLY SHIT

FuckyHead: … I literally caused the crime scene that you passed by

SmallMight420: Yeah, but you have this whole ideology thing that I like 100% agree with, at least what I’ve heard. I mean, I’m not really on board with the whole murder part, but I still think you’re right

FuckyHead: I’m flattered???? That doesn’t really matter tho, GET OUT OF HERE, HOW FAR ARE YOU FROM HOME?????

SmallMight420: I don’t live close to here at all lol. The train from this city just doesn’t go back to where I live at this time of night so I need to go to one of the neighboring towns

Shinsou leaned back in his seat, running a hand down his face. He was mulling over a very bad idea in his head, one that would not end well in any situation he could come up with. Yet, he found himself typing again.

FuckyHead: You said you could find my location?

SmallMight: Uh, yeah? But forgive me if I don’t want to go to the residence of a known killer. No hate, just don’t think it’d be a good idea

FuckyHead: In exchange for you not revealing where my base is, I’ll take you to the station

SmallMight hesitated again. Shinsou couldn’t blame them, it sounded like a complete trap. He wasn’t expecting the other person to accept, and he didn’t understand why he wanted them to. Sure, he found their page entertaining, but that shouldn’t have meant that he’d be willing to risk so much for them. Yet, he let out a sigh of relief when their answer finally came up.

SmallMight: I just set up something that will mass-post your base’s location in exactly one hour. Only way for it to be stopped is for ME to turn it off. Hurt me, and your little hideout is getting reported to all the pros in the surrounding 3 cities. I’m at the corner of 5th and Oak <3

**********

An excerpt from my fic “Midnight Stroll” on Ao3! If you’re interested, check out the link <3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/38579550/chapters/96436455 

#bnha #bnha fanfic #bnha fanfic recs #villain shinsou #deku #shinsou x deku

[dolldefiler]

gosh, i've been reading through the previous asks on your blog and its getting my cunt so wet 😵‍💫😵‍💫 feeling so tempted to play with myself on the back of a bus, imagining it's your fingers in my pussy 🫠 i wanna try touching myself in public now, it turns me on whenever i think about it 🫠your blog is 10/10 btw

also, boobs or ass?

A lot of the girls I bump into through my blog haven't been corrupted by me. They like to think they have, but deep down they were always kinky little sluts that felt like they couldn't express their filthiest fantasies. Do you want to play with your pussy in public? Do you want to sit at the back of the bus, scrolling through Tumblr casually while your fingers, hidden between the folds of your skirt, furiously pump in and out of your slick cunt? Go for it. Become the depraved, thrill-seeking whore you were always meant to be. You'll feel your heart beat louder with every passing second but the moment you cum, you'll cum harder than ever before. Could you imagine your legs shaking while you sit quiet and pretty in public? Could you imagine your fingers sticky with creamy cum while people sit next to you clueless? I'm sure you'll become addicted in no time.

As for your question, I'm generally of the opinion that amazing tits > ass > tits. An amazing set of tits is more about shape than size to me. I'll also go wild for pierced tits. Either way, I'm weak and easy, so my preferences aren't too strong, though I'll especially love your tits if I'm in love with you.

#asks #public kink #exhibition kink

[earthtooz]

OH MU GODD EARTH ITS BEEN LONG HELP I KNOW THIS IS OVER EXGRRARSTING!!?! EXGREATEDIMH OH GODJN!!! 😭 MY PHONE FELL INTO A DRAIN AND I HAD TO WAIT TO BUY A NEW ONE HELPPP💔 my silly ass forgot my tumblr acc pass and was devasted that I couldn’t get on tumblr BUTTT!! ITS ALL GOOD NOWW !!! ANYWAYSSS HRU?? HOPE UR DOING GREAT BTWW

*taking notes immediately and pulls up Pinterest for ideas on drawing rin with you* 🤭🤭🤭 !!! wowwieee!!! *scrolling through the silly Pinterest app* !!!

giggling and kickin my feet while reading your fics are part of my routine now !!! I love your works sm I hope you get enough rest Like??? Is your back not heavy from carrying the fandoms you write about?? take care earth !!!🙏🙏 remember to eat, drink and pee !!!

— 🫶

MY BELOVED 🫶 ANON !! WELCOME !!

help the chaos of every ask u send 😭😭 SO REFRESHING !!! you can never catch a break can you... like... the phone... what... (L), wait but like is ur bank account okay bc of the new phone 😟😟😟 I HOPE IT DIDN'T COST TOO MUCH 😨😨 BUT HEY AT LEAST YOU'RE HERE, WELCOME BACK MY FRIEND TO THE DARK SIDE OF THE INTERNET !!!!

YOU DON'T NEED TO ACTUALLY DRAW ME AND RIN, i mean like... if you want to... 😁😁😁 i'm not stopping you 😁😁😁 BUT I'LL FEEL BAD, YOU GENUINELY DON'T NEED TO WASTE TIME AND EFFORT ON ME UNLESS YOU WANT TO !!!!!!! you should exert your creative liberty and free will however you want to 💪

ALSO YOU WERE EXCITED FOR THE FAKE LOVE EDITION WITH REO AND KAISER RIGHT??? well bc you're my favourite (real, all of my anons are favourites of the earthtooz blog), you get a little snippet MWAHAHAH.

“reo, please, leave me alone,” you request with a shaky voice, trying to get out of his grip with no success.

“i can’t, not when you’re like this,” he protests, “deep breaths, y/n, come back to me.”

a few moments of silence pass by, allowing you to return to your senses as reo holds your hands to his heart, stroking your skin with his thumb. no longer overwhelmed and suffocated by your thoughts, it’s hard to look your boyfriend in the eye, cowering away from his gaze.

“what’s the matter?” he asks gently, pressing a hand against your cheek delicately. it’s warm. you want to melt into him.

“it’s- i, i had a really- you know what, nevermind,” you murmur, shaking your head, turning your back against reo as you pull your hands away from his. 

you miss the expression of heartbreak that appears on his pretty face. 

anyways hope u enjoyed i think that was like 100/2000 words LOL

also you are too kind :[ like pls stop flattering me i don't deserve this level of praise 😫😫 OKAY WAIT LET ME BE REAL - MY BACK HURTS ALL THE TIME BC OF MY POSTURE WHILST WRITING... I'M LIKE HUNCHED OVER, TYPING FURIOUSLY WITH NO END IN SIGHT BC I AM DETERMINED TO FINISH !!!!

GOODBYE 🫶 ANON, TILL NEXT ASK YOU LITTLE FIRE CRACKER

#*ੈ✩‧₊˚ constellation: 🫶 anon #earf's favourites (real) #every ask i receive from you is a journey from start to finish pls never change

[mercurygray]

Hi! Sending you an ask purely to say that I've just had a little scroll through your blog and I'm loving both the vibe and the sage-y green background colour! Lovely!

Me, scrolling furiously: What's my vibe, what's my vibe, I don't even know what my vibe has been for the last twenty posts, I took a dive off a navy infested pier like a week ago and I don't know which end of my life is up!!!

Heh. I'm glad you like it! It's usually a lot of...women in history, World War two, original female characters, fandom at large, and the occasional Japanese print and post about tea.

(Have I mentioned lately I love your fic? I LOVE YOUR FIC. 😁)

#nice people saying nice things

[thesealovesme]

several people including an anon: maveric has a wolf theme right, and he’s an ancient zoan right, like he’s supposed to basically be a werewolf right?? ?? i’ve literally never seen him transform in my life me: me: me: hey look over there - - scuttling sounds as i escape

#Sea still loves me;;[[OOC]] #[[ HE HAS TRANSFORMED!!! HE HAS!!!!!!! ]] #[[ furiously scrolls through my blog ]] #[[ HE... HE HAS!! ]]

[seokmins]

Dead give away you likely work or worked for some component of the DOD.

I'm sorry what does this even MEAN 😂

Is this some secret code? Are you my fbi agent? Hello? How do I ping you?

#Furiously types #Hello I'm Elv 🤡 and I work for the DoD 🤓 #💀 #Pls im too stupid to do so #More like department of dumbness #Scroll through my kpop/writing blog #Yes - I work for them

[katsuphilia]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐘 𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: bakugou katsuki and todoroki shoto

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is a repost from my old blog

✿ 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎𝐔

You were too angry at him to speak right now, and Bakugou would not leave your room until you’d finally gave in and spoke.

“Come on you idiot, stop being so damn stubborn. I’m not leaving this room until your dumbass speaks to me.” You kept scrolling through your phone, stubborn as ever. Normally Bakugou loved the way you didn’t back down, but this was getting on his last nerve today. Reaching over, he snatched your phone from your hand, glaring at you. You sat there frozen for a moment before looking up at him furiously.

“Katsuki.” Your voice was cold, and your eyes narrowed in on him the way they did on an opponent. He furrowed his eyebrows, shocked at your tone. Absolutely not. He would not stand for this. Either you’d say his name the usual sweet way, or you’d call him babe. Those were your only options.

“No. If you’re not gonna say my name nicely you don’t get to say it at all. Now try again, say it with more love this time, otherwise I’ll light up your phone,” he said sternly, dangling your phone in his hands to emphasize his point. You crossed your arms glaring at him before turning away stubbornly, still unwilling to give in. Suddenly, he smirked, shrugging at you. “Okay, if you wanna be a stubborn brat that’s up to you.” Plopping himself on top of you, he wormed his way under your crossed arms and laid his head on your chest, trying to put as much weight as he possibly could on you.

“Katsuki!” You screamed at him angrily. Another smirk.

“Uh uh,” he shook his head. “I didn’t like that tone either. Try one more time.” You closed your eyes, breathing deeply before looking at him unimpressed.

“I am not happy with you.”

“And I said I’m sorry. And I even said it nicely this time. Not ‘half assed’ like you always complain.”

“And I said sorry wouldn’t cut it this time.”

“And I said you’re being too stubborn.”

“Katsuki,” this time your tone was exasperated. Once again, his face displayed his usual cockiness, and had it not been so adorable, you’d have smacked it.

“See that’s better, but it’s still not perfect. Try one more time, you’ll get it eventually. In the meantime, I’ll get comfortable.” True to his word, he shifted so he could lay more comfortably, head burrowing deeper into your chest while his arms wrapped around your torso. You sighed, giving in and carding a hand through his wild locks. Looking at you with a triumphant look, he pointed at a blanket at the foot of your bed. “Cover me in the blanket too while your at it babe.” You were so sick of him. Absolutely over him and his antics. But before you could stop yourself, you reached over and lay the blanket over your boyfriend’s body, making sure he was thoroughly covered.

“Is that good enough for your liking?” He nodded, satisfied with your compliance.

“Yeah I guess. But you’re still being shitty and not saying my name correctly, so get back to practicing that. Don’t get discouraged if you can’t get the hang of it, not everyone can be as fast as me.” Oh you’d kill him. But since he looked so cozy, and you didn’t get to really be the one who held him often, you decided just this once, you’d cave. You sighed deeply once more before rolling your eyes.

“Okay fine. I love you Katsuki. Was that better?”

“Sure, I’ll take it. I say your name better though, but I guess I love you too.”

“No you don’t, you just grumble it.”

“And that’s why you’re dumb as shit because clearly I say your name with a lot more love than you do.”

“No you do not.”

“Yeah I do, and I call you babe more often too.”

“Whatever Katsuki, I’m still mad at you.” Shrugging, he lay his head back on your chest and relaxed onto your body.

“You’re always mad about something y/n. Might as well be me so I’m the only thing on your mind.” Finally, you snorted, shaking your head. Leaning down, you kissed his forehead, making him grin. It would probably be his turn to be mad at you tomorrow anyway, so you decided to bask in his affections while you could.

✿ 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐈

Todoroki wasn’t quite sure how to handle your current mood right now. He wasn’t the best at reading people’s emotions, let alone dealing with them, but it was evident that you were upset, and worse, you were upset with him. He stared at your figure as you looked at him expectantly, arms crossed.

“Y/n, why are you mad? I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me,” you boyfriend reasoned. But you were too angry to be reasonable, so you continued to be stubborn.

“If I have to spell it out for you, then you’re not gonna be able to fix it.” Frowning, he looked at you blankly, confused as to what he could’ve done to make you this upset. He reached over for your hand, but you snatched it away, death glaring him.

“Shoto, go away.” Slowly, he pouted at your tone, it was stern and cold, and he didn’t like it.

“Why… why did you say my name like that?” You glared at him, and Todoroki pouted even deeper. Your heart swelled at the sight, and before you knew it, you weren’t so angry anymore. But still, you didn’t want to give in too quickly.

“Because I’m clearly not happy with you right now Shoto.” Once again, you said his name venomously. This made his face scrunch up, almost making you laugh at his expression.

“Y/n, I’m sure I can fix it. But say my name the way you usually do,” he insisted. You raised an eyebrow at him, and he furrowed his.

“And how do I usually say it?”

“Not like that.”

“I’m saying it the way I always do.”

“No you’re not, you don’t usually say it like this.”

“Then like what Shoto?” He looked at you, blinking for a moment, contemplating.

“Well that time was a bit nicer, but still not like usual.” Finally, you gave in, giggling at how he was so effortlessly adorable. Holding an arm out, you motioned for him to come over. He looked at you confused, but made his way to you nonetheless, sinking into your hold as you wrapped yourself around him.

“You’re so cute Shoto.” Hugging you, Todoroki’s head met the crook of your neck as you played with his hair.

“You said it like usual again, does that mean you’re not mad?” Laughing, you nodded. He relaxed into your embrace, squeezing your figure gently.

“Yeah, I’m not mad anymore.”

“That was quick. How’d I fix it, I didn’t even do anything yet.” Rubbing his back, you smiled at him as he brought his head out of your neck to look at you.

“You were just being really cute is all.” He was still uncertain about what exactly happened, but he nodded anyway.

“Okay, I don’t really get it, but you’ll say my name nicely now right?” Pecking his lips, you nodded, chuckling once more at his confusion.

“Yeah, I’ll say your name nicely now.”

#tee writes! #fics and scenarios! #bakugou x reader #todoroki x reader #bakugou fluff #todoroki fluff #bakugou angst #todoroki angst #bakugou headcanons #todoroki headcanons #bakugou scenarios #todoroki scenarios #bakugou imagines #todoroki imagines #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha fluff #mha fluff #bnha angst #mha angst #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #bakugou x you #todoroki x you #bnha x you #mha x you