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#I hand to stop myself
pervysenpaix · 2 years
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But yeah I was thinking something a little more specific if that’s cool with you. Could you do something where reader doesn’t have many friends and gets a little sad when her boyfriend tells her he’s going to go out with his friends and asks her to come but she says no cause she doesn’t want to intrude but then he stays home and they cuddle and watch a movie, then they fuck. Please and thank you love❤️ but I’m probably finna go reread tech support kiri for like the 10th time cause it’s immaculate
nonnie this made me soft cause 🥺 why is she i? why is her me? feeling chatty but also lazy so we’re gonna just skip to the good bit, k? you like that, huh ? also i’m gonna twist this a bit because i’m in a mood ☹️
TW!ProHero Kiri, Shy!Reader (not with him), Gawk Gawk Super Soaker 3000 (oral!male receiving) idolization, coercion if you squint, yandere!reader if you don’t blink, pussy drunk Kiri , intimate riding, body worship
18+ NSFW CONTENT | MDNI
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Eijiro Kirishima is the most caring and considerate boyfriend. He places you on this pedestal and dotes on your every whim.
He knows how you can get and he always tries to overcompensate just to make sure that you’re feeling okay.
That’s why when he heard the soft little “oh” you sighed when you saw him getting dressed he stopped dead in his tracks.
So what if the gang had planned a “boys night”, how could he have fun with the possibility that you’d be sad ? It wouldn’t work. So he invites you. You decline. So he simply undresses and joins you on the couch. Just like you knew he would.
Do you occasionally take advantage of your boyfriend’s kind and caring disposition with slumped shoulders and meek responses ? Yes.
But, who could blame you for wanting to keep a man like Kirishima to yourself? He’s literally perfect in every way. You’d have to be a fool to not appreciate it.
Still, you do feel a little guilt. He’s been working so hard and he’s been talking about this boys night all week. He claims to be content with watching reruns of Bob’s Burgers for the umpteenth time but how can you be sure?
So what do you do ?
Suck his dick of course.
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Bringing that sweet persona full force you fall to your knees between his spread legs and bite your lip. Meekly gazing up at him with doe eyes and a pout. He always looks so good from this angle—towering over you like a god. Big muscles and powerful hands that could end you in an instant but the puppy like trance that befalls him as you present let’s you know that he would never.
Who really has the power here ?
His shorts lay discarded in the corner. Thick cords of muscle flex and ripple under the slow drag of your nails on his flesh. His breath hitches as you pepper sweet kisses up his toned thighs. Leisurely, you suck at the skin. Painting the canvas with darkened marks of passion. Eiji moans lustfully, placing a hand and cupping your cheek to which you meet with a kiss on his palm. You love his hands. Their so strong and beautiful. Those hands have helped bring peace and justice to world and normally you’d spend time servicing them deep in your throat but there’s something heavier that’ll settle against your tongue tonight. The object of your desire lies between his thighs too heavy to stand. Thick veins circle the girthy appendage with a purpling mushroom tip leaking pre. On instinct your tongue darts out and you can’t help the lascivious moan that tumbled in your chest. Eijiro’s brows furrow and his perfect lips part slightly revealing sparkling white, and deadly sharp, teeth. God he looks so beautiful—if you could stare at him all day you would but right now you have a job to do. One long strip from the base of his cock to his engorged tip has him rutting forward and whimpering your name. He hisses in pain laced pleasure when your nails break the skin of his thighs at the same time your wet cavern engulfs him. Eijiro melts into the sofa , literal putty in your hands as you Bob your head on the top half of his member. Your tongue swirls around his dick, spelling your name as if an enchantment. A low grow bubbles from his chest and you dare a glance at his face. Stray strands have fallen in his face, stuck to the beads of sweat forming. His lip is bruised with trickles of blood spilling in the corner from how hard he’d been biting them. God—he’s captivating. Deeper. Deeper. You urge yourself. Swallowing more and more of his massive length while your fondle his balls and dare let you fingers graze past his perineum. He jolts at the feeling but that’s for another time. You suck hard. Swirling your tongue around the tip before pulling off with a pop to spit the mixture of saliva and precum before shoving the entirety of it down your throat. Saliva drips down his heavy balls and you feel them throbbing in your hand a tell tale sign that he’s close to cumming. He does his best to warn. A strained “b-baby”, and a garbled cry of your name is all he manages before spilling his seed in your mouth. Allowing him no time to recover you pull up and sink down his fat cock. The painful stretch of it bullying into your unprepped pussy almost made you scream but you wouldn’t dare spill the liquid delight resting on your tongue. Big hands grip your cheeks slamming your pelvises together. You tangle your fingers into red strands as you pull him into a cum filled kiss. He moans at the taste , swallowing his own seed like a debauched whore. You’re so close now. The delicious curve of his cock is nestled in your womb and every twitch sends shockwaves to your gspot. Eijiro is babbling affirmations of love and praise beneath you but your too far gone to hear him. Instead you focus on the feeling of his silky strands between your feelings and his dick rubbing against your velveteen walls as you cum. He joins your climax— shooting ropes of cum until you’re both left spent and panting.
Who doesn’t like a good night in ?
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inkskinned · 7 months
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the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.
three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.
two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.
their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.
one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.
i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.
i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.
and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?
you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.
a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.
someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.
#writeblr#warm up#this is longer than i wanted i really considered removing that part about myself and what i went thru#but i think it really fucking bothers me that EVERY time i talk about being an artist#ppl assume i just like. had the skill and ability to drop everything and pay for grad school.#like sir i grew up poor. my house wasn't a safe space. i gave up a FREE RIDE TO LAW SCHOOL. for THIS. bc i chose it.#was it fucking hard? was i choosing the hard thing?? yes.#but we need to stop seeing artists as lazy layabouts that can ''afford'' to just ''sit around and create''#when MANY - if not MOST - of us are NOT like that. we have to work our fucking ASSES off. hard work. long and hard work#part of valuing artists is recognizing the amount we sacrifice to make our art. bc it doesn't just#like HAPPEN to us. also btw it rarely has anything to do with true talent.#speaking as someone with a chronic condition i hate when ppl are like u have it easy. like actively as i'm writing this my hands r#ACTIVELY hurting me. i haven't been posting bc my left hand was curled in a claw for the last week#this isn't fucking luck. after a certain point it's not even TALENT. it's dedication & sacrifice.#''u get to flounce around and do nothing with ur life'' is a narrative that is a direct result of capitalism#imagine if we said that about literally any other profession.#''oh so u give up 10 yrs of ur life to be a doctor? u sacrifice having a social life and u get SUPER in debt?#u need to work countless hours and it will often be thankless? well i wish i was that lucky''#we should be applying that logic to landlords ONLY#''oh ur mom and dad gave u the money to buy a house? and all u did was paint it white and rent it? huh.''
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hinamie · 7 days
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just looking at these hand poses was enough to give me carpal tunnel and that's how u know they're prime megu material
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nordidia · 2 months
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having a very rough night so raph doodles needed to be made
when in need, mash two interests together
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kingprinceleo · 26 days
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just kinda a thing i wanted to say since ik i have younger artists following me (its applicable to everyone really, but very important to form care habits as early as possible) i read about others artists experiencing pain from overworking and i always thought to myself, i wouldnt let that happen to me, im real young, i still have time before i have to worry about really damaging my body
but your body really doesnt care, if you push yourself, if you ignore the pain, its going to fuck you up. maybe for the rest of your life please god take care of yourself when you draw, write, game, literally anything. stretch your wrists, fingers, dont keep your elbow in a locked a position for too long, especially dont lean on your elbows. get up around every 45 minutes, drink water, eat food, use the bathroom, stretch your whole body and your hands again. walk outside and let your eyes readjust your body is trying to communicate with you for a reason when you start hurting, please listen to it, be kind to yourself, you deserve it
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ditterdoob · 5 months
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sav me akande…..akande save me………sav me
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eraiyang · 4 months
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vulcanautus · 7 months
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separation
[id in alt by @/dgsdescribed]
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caguaydreams · 6 months
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they're all in the spectrum, your honor
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apocalyp-tech-a · 1 month
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Tech has a very different way of moving than other clones; it's kind of elegantly deliberate, especially his hands. Though he is incredibly strong and agile, some of his movements are indicative of the care he takes with more 'delicate operations'. CX-2 has this same type of confident, yet graceful way of moving. Just more evidence that they are one and the same person to me. Even if it's not him, they're still nice hands. ;) I wish we could know already!
@lightwise I had already planned a hand post, but your comment got me moving faster, lol. ☝️😃
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pmpwbrrs · 9 months
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Yeah no I'm not done with them yeaah no
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I hate them so much these two fudkers they're NOT gonna be happy . No. Right now they are maybe(not really), but later? No
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stuckinapril · 2 months
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A big part of turning 21 and going through that whole thing really was realizing that the idealistic friendship dynamics I’ve always daydreamed over in my head don’t exist & that in reality most friendships you’ll cultivate in your life will be a series of compromises. And maybe like 1 to 3 ride or die friends at BEST that shit is so rare and it gets rarer the older I am
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inkskinned · 8 months
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they want to talk about mental illness and acceptance and how everyone is a little ocd it's cute and quirky and their "intrusive thoughts" are about cutting their hair off and you say yours are about taking a razorblade to your eye and they say ew can you not and everyone is a little adhd sometimes! except if you're late it's a personality flaw and it's because you are careless and cruel (and someone else with adhd mentions they can be on time, so why can't you?) and it's not an eating disorder if it's girl dinner! it's not mania if it's girl math! what do you mean you blew all of your savings on nonrefundable plane tickets for a plane you didn't even end up taking. what do you mean that you are afraid of eating. get over it. they roll their little lips up into a sneer. can you not, like, trauma dump?
they love it on them they like to wear pieces of your suffering like jewels so that it hangs off their tongue in rapiers. they are allowed to arm-chair diagnose and cherrypick their poisons but you can't ever miss too many showers because that's, like, "fuckken gross?" so anyone mean is a narcissist. so anyone with visual tics is clearly faking it and is so cringe. but they get to scream and hit customer service employees because well, i got overwhelmed.
you keep seeing these posts about how people pleasers are "inherently manipulative" and how it's totally unfair behavior. but you are a people pleaser, you have an ingrained fawn response. in the comments, you have typed and deleted the words just because it is technically true does not make it an empathetic or kind reading of the reaction about one million times. it is technically accurate, after all. you think of catholic guilt, how sometimes you feel bad when doing a good deed because the sense of pride you get from acting kind - that pride is a sin. the word "manipulation" is not without bias or stigma attached to it. many people with the fawn response are direct victims of someone who was malignantly manipulative. calling the victims manipulative too is an unfair and unkind reading of the situation. it would be better and more empathetic to say it is safety-seeking or connection-seeking behavior. yes, it can be toxic. no, in general it is not intended to be toxic. there is no reason to make mentally ill people feel worse for what we undergo.
you type why is everyone so quick to turn on someone showing clear signs of trauma but you already know the fucking answer, so what's the point of bothering. you kind of hate those this is what anxiety looks like! infographics because at this point you're so good at white-knuckling through a severe panic attack that people just think you're stoic. even people who know the situation sometimes comment you just don't seem depressed. and you're not a 9 year old white kid so there's no way you're on the spectrum, you're not obsessed with trains and you were never a good mathematician. okay then.
mental illness is trending. in 2012 tumblr said don't romanticize our symptoms but to be fair tiktok didn't exist yet. there's these series of videos where someone pretends to be "the most boring person on earth" and is just being a normal fucking person, which makes your skin crawl, because that probably means you are boring. your friend reads aloud a profile from tinder - no depressed bitches i fucking hate that mental illness crap. your father says that medication never actually works.
you still haven't told your grandmother that you're in therapy. despite everything (and the fact it's helping): you just don't want her to see you differently.
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catsandcatci · 10 months
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thinking about color symbolism in Star Wars.... thinking about beskar’gam colors.... how the 212th colors are called gold (vengeance) but are really visually more orange (freedom)... how to the jedi yellow/orange is traditionally the lightsaber color of sentinels, and may symbolize loyalty.....
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yourlocalabomination · 4 months
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Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust.
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mayhemspreadingguy · 1 year
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Beautiful Nightmare 🖤
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