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#I hope you like this!!
gotchibam · 11 months
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Glameow, Skitty, and Purrugly late ko-fi doodle for Trevor!
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little-pup-pip · 4 months
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hey!! sorry for requesting again, i noticed my last one was a bit jumbled and might be hard to do. could you do a lord of the rings themed board? add/do anything you want!! ( no fem though please <3 ) my favourite character is frodo :)
For sure!!
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Ok. So normally I'm too shy to do requests or anything but I saw this and thought of steve/eddie and searched and searched for someone who might figure out how to write this into something 😱🙏🏻😂
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obviously this is very nsfw, so minors please dni 
——————
“Why isn’t this working?”
Eddie was on his knees, the floor in Steve’s room already starting to create a slight ache. He looked up at Steve, his fist pumping Steve’s cock in a slow, steady rhythm. Steve was panting, enjoying himself as Eddie worked him, but at the same time, he was feeling a bit nervous. He would get aching hard, start to lose it, get hard again, over and over. Eddie was doing everything he could—licking a stripe over the underside, toying with Steve’s balls, jerking him off—but no matter what was done, it was always the same result. Eddie’s doe-eyed gaze flickered up to Steve’s face, and could see he was clearly into it; but there was the matter of him not being able to keep it too up for very long. 
“I…” Steve said, brushing some hair from Eddie’s face as he smiled apologetically. “I really, really want you to. I’m just…it’s stupid.”
“No, what is it?” Eddie asked gently, his eyes remaining on Steve’s face. “Am I doing something wrong?”
“Oh god, no,” Steve assured. “No, you’re doing everything a little too perfectly, actually.”
“Then what’s going on?” Eddie questioned, getting his weight off of his knees as he sat on the floor. “You can talk to me, Steve. You know that.” 
Steve swallowed, nodding before chuckling. “It’s going to sound ridiculous.”
“Well, that’s nothing new for you,” Eddie joked, trying to lighten the mood and make Steve feel a little better. “Nothing you say can surprise me anymore.”
“Ha ha,” Steve said sarcastically. He paused, taking a moment to collect his thoughts so that he could explain clearly enough. “Look, this is hardly the first time I’ve ever done anything like this. I mean, I used to get around a lot.”
“I’m aware,” Eddie said, a little bit of jealousy in his tone. 
“But I’ve never actually…done this,” he gestured to his now semi-hard cock and at Eddie, “with another dude.”
Eddie tried so hard not to laugh, but failed. He wasn’t making fun, or laughing at the fact that Steve had never gotten head from another guy before. It was relief, pure and simple. It truly hadn’t been anything Eddie had done; that had been his truest, most present worry. Steve turned red, feeling a bit self-conscious, and Eddie came up from the floor to kiss him passionately in apology. Steve kissed him back fiercely, and held onto the other man for dear life as they pressed against each other as tightly as they could. When Eddie drew back, he ran his fingers through Steve’s hair before giving it a light, playful tug.
“Why didn’t you just say so from the beginning?” Eddie asked. “I know it can be scary, the first time you ever do something like that. It’s okay, though, Steve. You don’t need to be nervous, or ashamed. All I need you to do is relax, and enjoy the moment. Can you do that?”
Steve grinned, caressing Eddie’s cheek before kissing him again. “Yes,” he breathed against his lips. “I think I can, yeah.”
“Wanna try again?” Eddie asked, looking into Steve’s eyes as he moved some hair from the other’s face. 
“Yeah,” Steve replied. “Yeah, let’s try one more time.”
Eddie climbed off of him and slid back to the floor, taking Steve in his hand. He stroked him, mouthing at his balls as Steve groaned in appreciation. It didn’t take him too long to get fully hard again, and Eddie licked his way up the underside to the tip. He pressed a kiss to the slit there, swirling his tongue around it as Steve sucked in a loud, shuddering breath. Eddie looked up at him in concern, but Steve only nodded rapidly as a signal for him to keep going. Eddie pulled the tip between his lips, sucking as Steve moaned filthily above him. He wasn’t losing his erection this time; in fact, he was harder than he had been all night, and Eddie drew off of him for a moment to grin at him.
“Listen,” he said, and Steve was giving him a look of impatience. “I just need you to chill for me, alright? It’s only a blowjob, Steve; it’s not a life or death situation here. With that being said, though, you can revoke the offer at any time. If you need me to stop, use your words, alright? Tell me.”
“Yeah, yeah, I will,” Steve said, looking at Eddie with lustful eyes. “Please.”
“Never thought I’d see the day where Steve Harrington would beg me to suck his dick,” Eddie said with a smug grin. “That’s some next-level shit.”
“Come on, man,” Steve begged. “I don’t wanna lose it again.”
“Fine, fine,” Eddie said, his tongue tracing the head of his cock and cupping Steve’s balls as he did so. “I’ll take good care of you, I promise.”
Before Steve could reply, Eddie took Steve further into his mouth. Whatever Steve could have said was lost in a guttural moan, his eyes squeezing shut as his head tipped back at the feeling. Eddie didn’t stop until Steve was comfortably in his mouth, and he gagged softly as he took a moment to adjust. Steve looked at him worriedly, but Eddie winked at him to show that he was fine. The sight of him like that—his big brown eyes staring up at Steve through his lashes and hair, Steve’s cock down his throat, one ringed hand gripping the base—nearly sent Steve over the edge right then. 
“Jesus, you’re beautiful like this,” Steve remarked, pushing some hair back from Eddie’s eyes. 
Eddie responded by dragging his head up, then slowly back down. He went at a leisurely pace at first, wanting to tease him, and could see that Steve was enjoying it. His eyes were full of lust, his chest heaving softly as he watched Eddie, lips parted in soft, shaky mewls. He went to pull off, just to verbally check in with him, but Steve whined and grabbed Eddie’s hair with a shake of his head. He smiled, and as if he were reading Eddie’s mind, said: “I’m alright, I swear.”
Eddie made an “okay” gesture with his free hand to show that he would continue, and began to bob his head at a faster speed. Eddie hollowed his cheeks as he moaned around Steve’s cock, jerking him off in time with the movement of his head, and Steve was moaning filthily. Both of his hands tangled in Eddie’s hair, his own head lolling backward as he cursed under his breath. He began to fuck Eddie’s throat, bucking up and guiding his head, but that didn’t last long. Eddie pulled off, looking up at Steve with swollen lips, a string of saliva bridging them to the tip of Steve’s flushed, slick erection. 
“None of that,” Eddie said with a smirk. “Maybe next time. Tonight, I want to make you feel good on my own.”
“Sorry,” Steve said, panting as he gazed adoringly at Eddie. 
“Nah, it’s cool, man,” Eddie replied. “You still doing okay?”
“Yes,” Steve said. “Keep going.”
“I like this change in you,” Eddie said with a wide grin, before taking Steve into his mouth again. 
Steve’s hands remained in Eddie’s hair, but he didn’t try to guide him anymore. Eddie flicked his wrist, matching the rhythm with his head as his cheeks hollowed even more. His tongue swirled the tip every time he brought his head back up, and when he could taste precum, he knew Steve wasn’t going to last much longer. That was Eddie’s signal to increase speed, jerking Steve off swiftly as he bobbed his head at his quickest pace yet. Steve was cursing again, groaning as he felt his cock twitching in Eddie’s mouth. As much as he wished he could make the moment last, he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back too long.
“Eddie,” Steve panted. “I’m about to—“
He was cut off by a moan as Eddie squeezed his balls in his free hand, still working his fist & gliding his head. Steve tugged Eddie’s hair, moaning as he looked down at the other boy. He was looking up at Steve, his eyes lustful and Steve’s cock disappearing into his mouth with every move downward. Steve’s cock twitched again, and he gave Eddie’s hair an urgent pull. 
“Dude, I'm not kidding,” Steve warned. “If you don’t want me to…you know, finish in your mouth, then you better stop.”
But Eddie wasn’t stopping. He winked at Steve, going his fastest pace yet on all counts. The sight of him, the feeling of his velvety tongue & warm mouth around his cock, and the speed he was going were enough for Steve, but the fact that Eddie had no issue with Steve cumming in his mouth was one of the hottest things Steve had ever experienced. That’s what did him in, and he came hard in Eddie’s mouth with a groan of his name, hot ropes of cum shooting onto Eddie’s tongue as his head came back up. Eddie moaned in response, and Steve’s iron grip in Eddie’s hair began to lessen. When it was loose enough, Eddie popped off & swallowed, causing Steve to shiver at the sight. 
“Jesus Christ,” Steve said, chuckling breathlessly as he lay back on his bed. 
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Eddie said, getting off the floor and laying next to Steve. “You’re okay, though, right?”
“Yes,” Steve said, stroking Eddie’s newly messy, tangled hair. “Thank you.”
“What is this, customer service?” Eddie teased. “Why the hell are you thanking me?”
“Shush,” Steve said, kissing him tenderly. “It was amazing, Eddie. you're amazing.”
Eddie beamed at him, cupping his cheek as they gazed at each other. Steve trailed his fingers down Eddie’s body, stopping at his crotch. Eddie moaned when Steve touched him there, his erection straining against his tight jeans. Steve smirked at him, palming Eddie for a moment as he kissed over Eddie’s neck. Eddie mewled, his eyes fluttering as Steve sucked on the most sensitive part of his neck. Steve squeezed Eddie’s cock, unzipping his fly and dipping his fingers inside. Eddie hissed, moaning shakily as Steve touched him, one hand grabbing Steve’s back before their eyes met. 
Steve kissed Eddie’s nose, before saying: “Your turn.”
—————-
itty bitty taglist: @littledemondani @rriverrgrace @korescomaactually
if anyone wants to be tagged in other works, let me know!
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rarestdoge · 1 year
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Hi!!! I’m a huge fan of your art!! Is it ok if you can draw me some CopperRight stuff? 👀
I love my boys Reginald and RHM so much!! :D Thank you!!
I'm a huge fan of your art too man! 💙 I love these fancy lads too! I'm all for the overprotective, loyal guy x stinky rat man dynamic they got goin on 👀
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globstah · 5 days
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toki wartooth stimboard!
w/ blue and guitars for @meowwcakess!!
sources:
🌑/🤎/🌑
🤎/🎸/🤎
🌑/🤎/🌑
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princesshair · 2 years
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rainbow harry and louis
for @godrry-era as part of @lhgivegifts!
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exocean · 1 year
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HAPPY HOLIDAYS LOU! @levhanter from your secret santa!☃️🎄💖
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ok if acceptable I'm dropping one more before closing time
"I remember you" with a reader being the reincarnation of someone the Horned King once loved
*Clutches chest* ROOOSSEEE-
This hurts me. In like, the best way. Here we go, modern reincarnation because I low-key would like to get lost in the Welsh Mountains forever (I have deadlines).
Also please forgive the Google translated Welsh at the end I did not have the time to look up proper medieval Welsh and asking someone real to translate would have been good to think of before I started operating on 5% brain. If anyone following me is a native Welsh speaker pls DM me or leave a comment and I'll correct Google's attempt.
The Horned King x Reincarnated!Reader : 'I Remember You'
You have no fucking clue why you're here.
'Here' being the Ass-End of Nowhere, Wales. No phone reception, no services, no people and no tourists. Except, uh, yourself. Obviously.
You got up, drove out, picked a random direction between two hills and. Started walking. You don't even know why.
You just know that there's something further into the mountains that your soul is ITCHING to get to. You've always felt it, but recently ignoring it has started to feel like being pulled through barbed wire.
The ground is rough and uneven, tussocks and hidden rocks threaten to turn your ankles every other step. The trees that twist their way along the crevices of the high moorland are all but draped in moss and thorns. The mountains arching up behind them are unwelcoming, cold and cragged.
It's...eerily quiet. No birds, no people...even the sheep seemed to stop at some hidden border a few miles back. Just the low moan of the wind accompanies you.
As you walk, you find yourself stealing glances at the sky. You tell yourself it's for birds - Kites and eagles maybe - but you have to keep a strange disappointment down that it's nothing larger. What are you expecting for fucks sake? Dragons??
You're so busy scanning the skies that you topple arse over tea kettle down the next scree slope like a graceful spaghetti mannequin with a screaming feature.
You manage to scrabble and hiss to a stop, skin on your arms and legs scraped raw. And upon looking up suck in a breath that has nothing to do with your sliced up hands.
It's as though a giant scooped the earth away and set it on fire for good measure. Bare reddish black rock contends with a bitter snarl of dead grasses and lonely tree corpses. Beyond lies a dessicated crevass that looks like a lake drained away overnight.
Beyond that, is a castle.
You blink and tear the vision that seared across your eyes - of a fully fleshed gothic fortress - away. What lies before you is a ruin. The bones of the structure, at best.
The barbed wire in your soul is all but yanking you toward the ancient structure. You don't notice that the path you tread towards it is one you can find without looking, despite the terrain.
The bridge, rotted and rusted as it is, is mostly secure. You keep your weight to the bolted metal crisscrossing the wood as you make your way across, slow and steady and feeling as though phantom archers have their sights on you from atop the wall.
As you pass under the archway to the courtyard, you shiver violently. The feeling of passing under so familiar that it almost clawed it's way out from your skin.
The very air seems to hold it's breath as you make your way deeper into the crumbling structure. Water drips from the stonework, the doors all long since rotted from their hinges. Tools lie forgotten on the cobbles. If it wasn't so creepy it would be an archaeologists dream.
Why does no-one around seem to know this is here? Why is this place so undisturbed?
You stumble into what must have been the Great Hall.
Cold sunlight shafts through holes in the ceiling, the corners in absolute darkness. Skeletons lie in piles across the floor, roughly around where large tables should have been, weapons scattered akimbo as though they didn't even get a chance to use them before they fell.
Your eyes are dragged to the dias. There's a body on the throne.
It's slouched, slumped, as if whoever this was had thrown themselves back on the seat and collapsed in exhaustion. The mothbitten red robe and fur stole is strung with spiderwebs connecting them him to the throne, but this isn't what yanks on the barbed wire in your soul.
The pair of great, regal thorn like horns protuding from the figures hood are angled towards you.
Your feet carry you forward.
The figures face is obscured but you know it, the fingers curled loosely still with flesh, after all this time, no weapons around the dias but no evidence of wounds on the body as if he would need them, as if they could ever lay a finger on their King-
Your hand trembles, reaching out to touch the nearest horn irrestisably, not even daring to breathe.
The corpse lurches.
An arctic vice closes on your wrist, bones grinding as he yanks you to your knees on the stone. His fist is impossible to pry loose even as you scrabble at it, nails ripping at leathery hide- heart pounding-
His second hand closes on your neck and you freeze.
Twin red lights blaze from under the hood. Pupils in a black socket that focus hazily on your face, blinking as if rising from a dream that still has its hooks in him. The hand on your neck squeezes and you gasp, eyes bulging, wrist forgotten as you plead with your hands against the unstoppable force around your neck.
Brows twitch as he watches you struggle. Marginally, the fingers loosen and you suck in air, sounding like a broken bellows compared to the cathedral-esque empty quality of the air passing through his chest.
Gently, reverently, knarled fingers parse hair from your forehead. You didn't even realise he'd released your wrist. Your throat remains in his grip.
You meet his gaze as the last of the fog clears from his sockets. His voice, rusted and broken from disuse, still rumbles from his throat like a shuddering landslide.
"Rwy'n eich cofio, fy annwyl."
"I remember you, my dear."
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fyodcrs · 1 year
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Nakahara Chuuya ✰ BSD Wan!
Happy birthday, Ray! @nightrayv ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧˚ ♡♡♡♡
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plush-rabbit · 1 year
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Heartbreak and Whispered Confessions
Request: Knock knock! Can i request a reader who was cheated on and Dabi, their best friend whos in love w them , makes it all better? The reader is totally heart broken and asks Dabi to 'make it all go away' and he does so by gentle fucking and confesses his feelings that way?
I feel like a deviant asking for smut lol
Word Count: 3.3K
A/N: You feel like a deviant?? Have you seen what most of my things are when it’s smut?? You have nothing to feel ashamed of here
-
You aren’t really sure when your friendship started with the infamous quirk user. You tried to think back on it, but all that you can come up with are memories when he’s already made himself comfortable at your place- eating and drinking your groceries, using your good towels to clean himself and leaving them covered in bits of ash and blood. All you know is that he made himself comfortable in your life and now you’re laying in bed, trying not to cry on his chest, but failing miserably. 
“I thought he liked me.” Your voice trembles, and you cling tighter to his shirt. “I feel so dumb.” Your voice cracks and his arm that is wrapped around you only tightens.
“You aren’t dumb.” He says it so earnestly, so quickly that you want to believe him, but it only worsens your tears.  
“But I am,” you cry, body shaking and tears staining his shirt. “I should have seen the signs.” You take in a shuddering breath that leaves your chest feeling hollow. You cling tighter to Dabi, trying to bury yourself into his chest, wishing and hoping that his ribs would pierce him and swallow you whole and the tears on your pillowcase would only serve as a reminder as to who you once were.
Silence is spoiled by your cries, and his heart beats into your ears. “Want me to go kill him?” You give a smile, but you know he isn’t giving a playful threat- you know that he’s serious. “Fuck, I’d just burn his dick off if you think killing him is too extreme.”
You can’t help the laugh that escapes your lips. Your tears start to slow, and you still cling to him.
Perhaps this is cruel of you. You have an inkling of a feeling that Dabi may possess some deeper feelings for you- something that goes past just a good friend, and more into a romantic sense. But you need this right now. You need him to just make it all go away and hold you. You know that he would be kind to you, that he wouldn’t dare do anything too rough to you unless asked. 
Bile burns in your throat and you think that you’re going to go to hell for leading him on like this. He’d never forgive you, and you wouldn’t blame him.
His hand is on your waist, his index and middle finger on your skin where your shirt has risen and the other two the waistband of your shirts. With his other hand, he leads you to his lips, kissing you softly. He tastes like smoke and alcohol, a horrible, bitter combination but on his lips, he tastes like the finest wine, an ambrosia only meant to be tasted in a dimly lit room during late night.
“Dabi,” you whine, tears springing to your eyes. No. You can't do this to him. No matter how pathetic you feel, you can't do it to him. You don’t want to lead him on. Thinking of what he would look like- sad and betrayed, too much like you at the moment- you can’t do this to him. He hums in response, kissing at your cheek and pressing feather light kisses down to your jaw. 
“What is it, doll?” His breath is hot on your neck and your heart is beating against your ribcage, and you think you might be sick. 
You do like him. You’ve always found him attractive, and his snark and cruelty was something that you enjoyed because you would fight back and he wouldn’t get his feelings hurt. But he was a villain- a killer and one that was a mental breakdown away from incinerating himself to ash and bone. A villain that if you did ever pursue something, it could never be more than fling. You couldn’t ever marry him or show him off to your loved ones. You couldn’t go to a restaurant with him and sit down and enjoy a nice meal. You could take a walk in a park without putting a target on both your backs.
He calls your name, and his hand is still on your waist. You think you should put a stop to this right now, but you’ve never seen him above you. He looks pretty, and whether it's the muddled mind and teary eyes, he makes your heart skip a beat.
“What if you hate me after this?” You know what he’ll say- ‘He could never’ or some meaningless words that would contradict themselves when he came to.
“Sweetheart, you could use me and toss me aside, and I’d still find some way to sneak in here and you’d still give me a home cooked meal.” You try to interject but he shakes his head. “You’d let someone like me fuck you, if all you want to do is use me, then I’m okay with it.”
You furrow your brows. “Someone like you?” You ask, wanting to pry deeper. He’s never been one to talk about himself, always moving the discussion into something that’s mutually liked, but never about his day, even if you pry.
“Patched up and smelling like smoke everywhere I go,” he says impassively. “I got my charm, but it isn’t enough to bag someone like you.” You give him a look. “Sweet.” His head tilts to the side as if to think of more to tell you. “Homey.” 
“I like having you around,’ you blurt, trying to make him feel better. “You’re a dick, but you care.” You pause, pushing yourself up and he backs up, his weight on your lap. "You care enough to pull down the pants of someone and burn their crotch, at least. No one has offered that to me before." You stay silent and he looks at you. Slowly, your hand lifts, and he watches it, following the trail until you cradle his face. “You being patched up isn’t a negative, you know?”
“You’re the only one to think so,” he muses, tilting his head ever so slightly to your palm. 
"I don't want to sleep with you just because. I- If we are going to sleep with each other, I want it to be special. Not because I'm sniveling and crying over my ex."
His chin rests on your shoulder, and he's lighter than you would have thought. His hands snake underneath your arms and rest flat against your back, and he’s pulled so close to you that you can smell him- the heat, the sweat, the little bit of soap that he used. He’s so close to you and you knock your head against his, closing your eyes. “You think you'd ever be ready, then?”
It isn’t fair to lie to him, so you don’t answer. You want to sleep with him, you’d stake your life that it won’t be something that you would regret, but you don’t want to use him.
You feel the air that blows across your neck. A chill runs down your spine. “Let me take care of you-” his hands bunch up the back of your shirt- “please. You won’t regret it.” 
“I know I won’t,” you mutter, wrapping your arms around him. 
Chapped lips press against your neck, leaving lingering kisses from the start of your neck, rising above to under your earlobe, and you clutch tighter onto him. You feel his hands slide down your back, arching underneath your shirt, leaving a burning sensation in its wake. You feel the coarse tips of his fingers drag against the side of your stomach, the warm metal that glides over you, the rough feel of his wrist and forearm that scratch along your body and make you stand just a bit taller. You feel it all when he touches your breasts, when he pants against your neck, and you whine when his fingers squeeze and twist at your nipples.
Cushioned by the back of his hand, he cradles your head, and lowers you until his knuckles kiss at your pillow. He’s above you, and he doesn’t waste a moment to kiss you, to slide his hands down your body and lift your shirt over your head, kissing down your lips, kissing at your cheek and jaw, to your neck where he kissed you before and down to your collarbone. He lifts up his gaze to meet yours and with your breath held, you can’t look away from him.
“If you wanna stop, all you gotta do is tell me, okay.” He seals his words with a kiss pressed just above the rising swell of your breast. You release your breath, and kisses at the peak of your breast, rolling his tongue over your pebbled bud and pulling it back in between his teeth. 
“No, no,” you breathe out, “I wanna continue.” 
His hand burns against your flushed skin as it slides down your body, curving over your breast, and over your stomach, curving it towards your hip, and holding you as he kisses at your bitten nipple, pursing his lips over and suckling in your bud. You suck in a sharp breath, feeling it dry the roof of your mouth as he sucks on your teat, moaning against your heated skin. The hand on your hip trails down your pubic area, moving under your shorts and underwear, sliding against your bare sex, to touch at your throbbing bud. 
You arch under him, muffling a whine through closed lips. His index finger rubs around your clit, teasing the bud and sliding his finger down to your slit. Your sex sucks in his finger, and your hands twist at the sheets under your hands. Another finger only makes your hand jolt and go to cup his scalp,  knitting your hands in his hair.
Panted breaths and the wet sound of your cunt and suckling from your breast mix into a lewd sound that makes the shells of your ears burn vehemently. You can feel his fingers squirm inside of you, testing and teasing just what it is that has you moaning and pushing your chest into his face. Your nails scratch his scalp as you pull him closer, your walls throbbing around his fingers that curve and push deep inside of you.
“Dabi-” you voice croaks- “Fuck, Dabi,” you cry, a hand trailing down to his cheek, where he’s already moved onto the other breast.
Lips press against the side of your hand, and he returns to kissing at your breast. “What is it?” The tip of his tongue rolls around your hardened bud. “Come on, use your words.” He lifts his head up, his fingers pulling out of your cunt. You can feel your slick stick your panties to your cunt. “Huh, what is it?” There’s a soft look in his face that makes him look younger than he is, concern knitted in his brows, and you only squirm when he places the hand with his wet finger over your hip.
Your hands cup his face and squish at his cheeks. “I want more.” You pull him close to you, kissing his lips, softly, and then teeth clashing, and it’s needier, desperate, kissing until your chest feels tight, and you're rubbing yourself against him. Even through the clothes, he burns hot, warming your body and having you flinching when his staples sear at your skin. 
The lack of fabric makes your skin chill, and the wet that leaks and stains your sex and inner of your thighs, makes you feel more exposed. He, however, does not follow your lead, and stays kneeled before you, his hands only going to fumble with the button and zipper of his jeans.
You frown. “You know, if you wanna stop-” you pause when he shakes his head.
“No, it’s not that.” He looks away from you and you can see blood rush to his face. 
His arms and face are patched up, and you’ve seen his legs before, but never his chest. You’re sure that his body is also covered in staples. There’s a twinge of hurt that quickly subsides when you recall his earlier words about getting to be with someone like you. 
The tip of your tongue wets your lips, teeth biting at your lower before you speak. “Dabi-” he looks at you when you say his name, and you come to the realization that you’ve been calling him a nickname the entire time- “I want to be with you. In like a sexual way, and I don’t want you to wear clothes or anything. Like I want to be with you.” You look away, leaning forward, your hands sliding down your legs to hold at your ankles. You look at him, forcing the urge to turn away and hide your face, ignoring the way that heat has settled in your chest and face. “I want you, Dabi.”
Neither of you speak for a moment. And he moves towards you, lowering his face until it’s leveled with yours. “You want me?” 
You nod with a smile. “Yes-” you let go of your ankles and spread your legs, a sliver of your cunt peeking between your thighs- “I want you.”
With his lips pressed against yours, your hands and his bumps, trying to remove the clothes, breaking apart for just a moment, before connecting together once more. He holds the base of his cock, and it slides between your folds, rubbing his cockhead against your hardened clit, and down the slit, and with a final look to you for confirmation, he pushes himself inside. 
With a sigh of relief, you close your eyes and let out a moan, encouraging him to move. He moves tentatively, and you call his name, rising on your forearms to watch as he moves his cock in and out of you, seeing and hearing the wet noises that play from your cunt. You can feel the slap of his sack against your skin, and your mouth waters, your face flaming and hands curving around his neck. 
“Shit, Dabs,” you murmur, “next time I’m sucking your dick.” You regret not doing so beforehand, and while you’re not opposed to taste yourself, you know that he’s just into burying himself in you.
“So there is a next time?” He asks through gritted teeth and you nod. “Aw, fuck!” He moans, moving his hips at a faster rate. “You’re so wet, wet for me.” 
You lie down, rolling your hips against his, and it’s you and him, your body twisting and turning, trying to meet his thrusts. You can feel your cunt throb, the walls clenching around him. He moves at a quick pace, hungry and desperate, far removed from the man who shied away from you just a bit ago. He’s pushing himself deep in you, nails scratching at your unmarred skin, mouth suckling on bits of you, hopeful and begging to leave a mark, whether it be a bruise or teeth indents. 
“Fuck,” he lets the vowel slur out, stilling himself inside of you. “Fuck, you feel good.”
Your leg is lifted into the air, and you can feel him hit you deeper than before. The top of your head is tilted back, and you feel pressure build against the lower part of your stomach, hands grip at the sheets, while his hands hold your leg in the air, and he’s looking down to you.
The eye contact is far too intimate, far too much; you know that he’s looking at your expression, reveling in them, and you can’t pull away from his gaze. The pressure is building, you feel like you’re going to burst, and the room is growing hot, hotter than before, hotter than it ever has, and there’s warmth on your thigh, and you know that some remains of his handprints will remain on your skin. You can’t think, your mind too foggy to form anything coherent other than for him to just keep going, other than for you to slur out for him to not stop. 
Your leg falls back onto the mattress, and you’re spread, with your knees bent, having him rock his body into yours. While the other position had you feeling everything, you like being close to him, having his  forehead resting against yours, with him just being so close to you, feeling the weight of his body heavy against your chest.
“I’m gonna-” You squeal, squeezing your legs around him. You're careful to let your hands rest over his sides, to avoid his scars, so when you dig your nails in, the remainder of you is clear and not overtaken by a deeper hue of purple. “Dabi, fuck!” You let out a moan, muffling yourself by wrapping your arms around him, and pulling him close to you, hiding your face into the crook of his neck, careful to not bite him. 
“Where do you want it?” He asks, his voice whispered against your ear. “Where do you want me to cum?”
His face is warm, and slick with sweat when you pull him aside, kissing him and nicking his bottom lip with your teeth as you try to kiss him. “Inside.” Another shudder overtakes your body. “I want you inside, please, please,” you beg, holding him down your legs. “I don’t want you to leave me, Dabi. I want your cum,” you slur out, the words mumbled through his lips. 
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he curses continuously, kissing at every inch of your skin that he can. Your name is moaned into the room, and it sounds far better coming out his mouth than it ever will of any other. His hips stutter into yours, slamming into you deeply, and pulling out shakily. His face is buried into your shoulder, his pants wetting your shoulder. You can feel his seed slip when he thrusts into you. A kiss is placed on your shoulder, before he lifts his head, your hands going to cradle the side of his head, bringing him close to you, slipping your tongue into his mouth. 
You let out a whimper when he pulls away from the kiss. “I want you,” he says, eyes shut tight. “I don’t want you to leave me,” he cries, pushing his body against yours. “I want you, I want you,” he repeats. “Only you,” he murmurs, holding you close beside  him until his cock stops twitching inside of you. 
He doesn’t stop repeating that it’s you that he wants, that it’s you who he wants- needs- to stay with. He gives you soft kisses against your shoulder, peppering over where he’s bit you, cooing when you run your hands through his hair and kiss at his crown. Pulling out of you, he rests beside you, panting and running a hand through his hair. The bed creaks under his weight as he turns to you, his eyes wide, and he leans over, pressing a chaste kiss against your lips. His mouth parts open, and he’s about to tell you something, only to close it and reopen it, telling you goodnight. 
The man beside you is still an enigma to you, someone who you only know scraps about, and for better or for worse, you think that you prefer it that way. You turn to look at him, and his back is turned to you, and you don’t take it to heart. His back is soft under your fingertips, and you run the pad of your finger over his scar, long and winding across his body, a hue of purple and raw underneath you, and you feel every bump, every part of him, and you so selfishly never want to stop touching him. You want to feel him, to memorize his skin so even if you grow old, you’d know how he felt when he slept beside you. 
You curve your hand around his body, and kiss the nape of his neck, letting your lips linger, until you begin to decorate his neck in small, swift kisses, fluttering around to every inch of skin that you can reach without straining your neck. You worry that this is the only time that Dabi will ever let himself just be beside you, to actually sleep with you, and you want to trap him with you, to keep him locked beside you, because you can never predict who he is, and what he will do. You want to protect him in such a childish way, to never let harm come to him, to take the pain and cold from him, to shield him from the outside world. You could stare at him all day and never grow bored. You want to love so selfishly. His hand covers yours, and you smile against his skin, pulling yourself closer to him.
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kevjrr · 1 year
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It’s the way they close their eyes whenever they hug each other
For @neyxmessi🫶🏽
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n3onwraith · 1 year
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It is done! or, at least, the sketches and backgrounds-
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Shell Shocked AU belongs to @lieutenantbiscute! please go check out their work!!
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greychromia · 1 year
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I’m so happy that I got @maharielhawke’s Mirren Sero for @wayfarer-exchange! She was such a delight to draw 💗
[Image ID: A realistic waist-up digital painting of an elven woman against a pink background. She is wearing a golden necklace with a thin chain and round pendant which she's holding in her fingers. As she gazes at it fondly she is smiling. She is thin with white skin and freckles. A tattoo of a sea serpent wraps around her left arm. Her hair is pulled back and copper brown, except for segments of blonde framing her face. She is wearing a leather corset with small knives sheathed in it over an off-white blouse. /End ID] - image ID provided by whowhatifs!
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vitaliskravtsov · 1 year
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56 and patater for the spotify wrapped!!
56) wayfairing stranger by the longest johns!!!!!
I know dark clouds will hover on me I know my path is rough and steep But golden fields lie out before me Where weary eyes no more shall weep
There’s something distinctly awful about the first night in a new city, and Providence is no different. San Jose to Vegas had been an adjustment, loud and bright and messy, but Vegas to Providence has, thus far, been unnerving.
Alexei thinks he understands, now, why all those horror movies take place in New England.
Even in a city, it’s too quiet. Admittedly, he’s used to the Strip, and he’s used to the desert and heat lightning and everything else that comes with Las Vegas, Nevada, USA, but Providence feels otherworldly.
He’s on a quiet side street, which is helping nothing, and it’s 3am, which is helping nothing, and he’s fucking lonely. He misses his boyfriend, for starters, and his cat, for next starters, and his apartment, for entrees.
He misses the stupid way the lights never really got dimmer and the way that the city swelled around you to swallow you whole. 
There’s nothing to swallow you in Providence but the dark and the quiet and loneliness.
They’re playing in the West on a roadie in three days, and he thinks he can hold out until then, hold out for the desert and his cat and his apartment and his pretty blonde boy who doesn’t believe he’s pretty and doesn’t listen when people tell him he’s good at hockey because it never means anything until he’s holding a goddamn Stanley Cup.
Right now, though, he’s crying in a hotel room in Providence fucking Rhode Island because his boyfriend just got done playing twenty-five minutes in a game that he should’ve seen only eighteen of, but Kirmer must’ve seen something he didn’t like (or something he did, though that has been getting rarer) and decided to make Kent live with that. 
Alexei’s never felt so alone.
There’s a message on his phone from his new captain, just a short one that says “Welcome to Providence!” and the urge to delete it is so strong that Alexei throws his phone across the room instead of dealing with that.
Just then, it rings.
Alexei gets up, and he picks up the phone.
Inevitably, it’s Jeff, calling because Jeff has this magical sixth sense of when Alexei Needs Things And Kent Is Busy.
“Priveyt,” Alexei says, because he’s sad and English is stupid and Jeff speaks enough Russian.
“I’m going to tell you about growing up in Nebraska until he’s done media,” Jeff says, slow and careful and determined. “And then you’re going to talk to your boyfriend about revenge dick tricks or things that aren’t hockey or whatever you get up to, but you’re going to talk to him.”
“Da,” Alexei says, and he does. 
Jeff paints a pretty picture, but Alexei is barely listening.
He’s barely listening when Kent gets on, either, just kind of hanging on to the cadence and roll of Kent’s voice, paying the briefest sort of attention to the game narration and the most sort of attention to the sound of kentkentkentkent.
He falls asleep like that, Kent’s voice in his ear, and he wakes up and goes to practice.
He can’t close his eyes and pretend it’s Vegas. There’s snow. He needs a non-fashion winter coat for the first time in years. The rink feels different and sounds different, and when he finally gets out, he goes back to the hotel room and cries.
He does a little math and a little Googling, and sends a text before his mandatory afternoon coffee meeting with the captain.
At 10am on a Tuesday, Kent gets a text that simply says “only need 6 more seasons until okay for retire”.
He’s going to light up Vegas on Thursday.
He’s going to burn Providence to the ground, consequences be damned.
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lucys-chen · 2 months
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➼ happy birthday @claryxjackson
featuring: mason buckley
— wishing one of my best friends the happiest of birthdays <3
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ninjamuffin654 · 1 year
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@r00ib0s
Hello!! I wanted to say that you're one of my favourite artists, I've been following BBJ since last year, and I wanted to give you a drawing of the silly bard man Halcyon himself!
I really hope you like it. :)
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