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#I wanna chew him
crybaby-bkg · 1 year
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Motorcyclist Bakugou who looks so mean, so badass and deranged and cruel, who turns out to be a bigger softie than you thought.
Motorcyclist Bakugou that you meet at a bar one night. It’s pretty empty besides the occasional straggler, and you sit beside him at the bar with a sigh. He’s ready to complain about you choosing to sit right here when there’s an entirely empty row, but when he looks at you, all his irritation melts right off of him.
You two talk for a while, hit it off, as you exchange banter back and forth, and before you know it, you’re walking out with him. you're not too drunk to be stumbling, but enough to let him pin you against an old brick wall as you walk to his ride and let him kiss you. its sloppy and full of tongue and teeth, and you can't get enough of him, especially when he hikes a thick thigh between your own to let you grind against it. you find it in you to pull away finally, when someone walks by, but its hard when he bites his kiss swollen bottom lip and nips at your own.
you get him off of you though, with a promise of giving him more when you finally make it back to his place. you're surprised though, when he walks you to the only bike in the lot, all sleek and shiny and black and orange with explosions painted on the side.
you make a remark about how pretty the bike is, but he only has eyes for how pretty you look, all mesmerized and slack jawed. he hands you his helmet, letting you hop on after him, grabbing him around his middle tight as you cop a feel of his hardened stomach. he thinks his dick explodes though, when you whisper to him,
"I've always fantasied about being bent over a pretty bike." its all the initiative he needs to zoom off into the night, popping a wheelie occasionally to hear you squeal and giggle.
and when you arrive at his house, big and showy with a private garage, you both have the good idea of parking that bike right in the privacy you two need. he barely puts the kick stand down, barely lets you pull the helmet off before you're being grabbed and groped every which way. you let him, let his mouth roam your skin, and your hands pull off his shirt, until you're both in your underwear and panting against the others lips.
without being prompted to do so, you turn your back to bakugou, looking over your shoulder as you bend over his bike. you pull your underwear to the side, let him see the slick strings that snap from your lips to your inner thighs, grinning when he practically salivates like a damn dog. you hear his zipper before you see it, giggling when he groans about you being a little minx, before you feel his tip slide between the wetness of your lips.
and as he pushes into you, you rock a little on the seat of his bike, eyes fluttering close in bliss, as you think that you finally got to experience being railed like how you deserve over a pretty bike by an even prettier man.
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curry-and-gunpowder · 3 months
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Dazai "statement" Osamu posts from the Odazai Server as well as @from-hell-till-dawn and my chat history.
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rhinestonesox · 13 days
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Can’t stop think about how Chilchuck’s love language is, like, 100% acts of service that little mother fucker could barely be nice to his friends but was sewing up everyone’s clothes and doing marcille’s hair and letting izutsumi sleep in bed with him and carrying around halfoot marcille to keep her safe he’s such a goober i can’t stand him
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cowboythewizard726 · 1 month
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BLOOD SOAKED FALIN!!! BLOOD SOAKED FALIN!!! BLOOD SOAKED FALIN!!! BLOOD SOAKED FALIN!!! BLOOD SOAKED FALINNNNNNNNNNN!!!
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lovelyghst · 27 days
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könig always takes his time prepping his girl to take him. he spends the better part of an hour on his stomach or knees, licking and lapping at your pretty pussy ‘til you cum on his tongue, many times. just to crawl back up so he can sweet-talk you into a couple more orgasms, delving his fingers into your dripping seam for the same, long amount of time. only after, will he finally fuck you with his cock.
at least when he’s living at home, anyways.
but when he’s been gone for upwards of a month or few, just now seeing you for the first time since his departure? christ, he’s utterly desperate. ripping your panties down your thighs so quickly you hear a tearing noise in the fabric, barely making it to your knees before he’s rushing to have his big head beneath your sundress. wasting no time in devouring you limp and swollen, cramming his fingers in without warning to make you cry out in surprise, pumping them in and out feverishly as he sucks on and tongues at your little clit.
it’s a bit painful at first, that’s a given, but you quickly become relaxed and dulcet by the time he’s coaxing out a second load, the first one already fucked deep inside you and coating his cock in a creamy sheen. you’re lucky he finishes quick after such a dry spell.
he feels bad afterwards, and he always tries to make it up to you as best he can; from the moment he pulls out before lowering himself to watch his pearly cum drip from your precious pussy, leaning in and eating it out of you, to the many days that follow. like, major princess treatment. nonstop kisses and praises; he’s at your beck and call. it’s all absolutely, without a doubt, crucial to his and your routine. <3
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inkegg · 7 months
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I am attempting Tumblr again bc I hear the emperor lovers like it here and I love you
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staticbluue · 2 months
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Data gets to be a little sparkly :) as a treat :))
This started as perspective practice, but then I drew his arm really well and couldn't cover it up, so I opened it instead. Now I realize it looks like a phalloplasty incision hmmmm...
I love drawing wires and cables 💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙
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nerd4music · 1 month
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THE WALKING DEAD: THE ONES WHO LIVE | S1E4: What We
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mardyart · 11 months
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there’s a new motherghoulker and it’s a cocky one
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tarutaruga · 1 year
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And the black smoke rises From the fires, we've been told
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ef-1 · 17 days
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icl this is a nothing burger post from VCARB's recent video, he just looked stupid fucking hot the whole weekend 🫶
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caturrday · 1 year
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Quick little Dracopia for the soul
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ddarker-dreams · 1 year
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Redamancy.
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Yan Scaramouche x F Reader.
Warnings: Yandere themes and unhealthy relationships. Word count: 1k.
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“You scowl too much.” 
If anyone else were to speak to Scaramouche, Sixth of the Eleven Fatui Harbinger in this way, they’d certainly be reduced to a pitiful pile of ash on the ground. Perhaps he’s thought about subjecting you to this fate, once or twice. That number could very well have been bumped up to three times if the indignant air he currently regards you with is to be considered. 
Then again, no one aside from you would get to experience this deceptively domestic scene. You sit beneath a canopy, branches free from winter’s thaw hastily preparing buds to herald in spring. Scaramouche holds your thighs captive, the soft flesh serving as his pillow. Indigo locks splay out against and tickle your skin. 
“There’s a lot to scowl about,” he replies, though he makes an effort to relax his tense facial muscles. The contemptuous smile he gives makes his previous expression look benevolent in comparison. “I’m stuck dealing with a fool of a woman who’d probably wander off a cliff because she was too busy admiring the clouds.” 
“Clouds are meant to be admired.” 
“Case in point.” 
“You make it sound like I’m chained to you with iron shackles, though,” you raise your ankle (notably shackle free, imagine that), drawing his attention and ire. Your sarcasm never fails to rile him up. He never seriously tries to put a stop to it, however. Such is his capricious nature. “If I’m such a bother, why not let me wander off the cliff?” 
Scaramouche grits his teeth. “Because…” 
There’s a pause, then, weighty and tangible. You know what he both wants and fears to say. If he were any less of a coward, he’d fill the aromatic air with truth, rather than engaging in his usual sidestepping. He’s so proficient at the act you swear he could moonlight as a crab. This mental image earns a barely contained giggle from you, one that further sours his mood, if such a thing were possible. 
Knowing you as intimately as he does, he correctly assumes that he’s the unwitting source of your amusement. 
“I can’t stand you,” he grumbles. Whether it’s to you or himself, you can’t decide. “Truly, I can't.” 
“Then hand me over to someone who can.” 
There’s a flash in his eyes then — otherworldly, malicious — he disregards composure like a snake abandons shed skin. He rises in a flash. Inhumanly cold fingers take your chin captive, bringing you closer to him, his delight in the ease with which he can manhandle you evident. Always the type to go for grand gestures, this one. His theatrical outbursts befit his moniker. 
Scaramouche grins, beset with an onslaught of bitterness akin to a black hole. It draws in and swallows anything unfortunate enough to be nearby. 
“You just love testing my patience, don’t you?” 
If you feared him, maybe you’d tremble, but you don’t, so you are still. It’s likely that you should fear him. He is volatile, a mess of contradictions too complicated to untangle, a vessel who fills himself with acrimony, the same way humans must with air. He delights in it and considers it his birthright. 
Your smile is not without kindness and that’s what bothers him most. 
“Come, don’t pout. I have no intentions of being complicit in whatever havoc you'd wreak if I was with another.” 
His eye twitches at the pesky word ‘another’. The mere thought of this faceless, nonexistent being having the audacity to lay claim to you, even in the land of fantasy, has his nostrils flaring and jaw tightening. You can see the ripple of muscles beneath his synthetic skin. He’s a wonder, this proprietorial doll, who can exalt and condemn you in the same breath. 
You are mine, and mine alone, his eyes seem to scream, and I’d sooner end the world than exist in it without having you for myself. 
“You really do scowl too much,” you reiterate your opinion from earlier, gently, almost sweetly. Whatever spell Scaramouche was under temporarily breaks, or perhaps he’s held prisoner to a new one, far more agreeable if not equally dangerous. “Your face is too pretty to always be frowning.” 
You enchant him by running your finger over his lower lip. It trembles by your command. His eyes go lidded, a lovelorn haze obscuring the former tempest. He can never decide if he wants to destroy or devour you. For someone like him, he can’t do one without the other. His love for you is a death sentence, despite the immortality that should’ve never belonged to your mortal body. 
It’s you who kisses him. 
He temporarily forgets himself. The arrogance, the hurt, the fear that you might slip between his fingers should he ever relax his hold. You find him foolish in that regard. He can have you in the palm of his hand if he likes, and you know he’d like that very much. There’s nowhere else for you to be. Not when he’s seen to the fact himself. 
Scaramouche melts into your person, returning your kiss with rapture, drunk on the way you offer yourself to him. He makes a deep, breathy noise, willing you closer, demanding total subservience. You let him have his way. Civilizations could rise and fall in the seconds that follow, and he’d pay them no mind, too absorbed with savoring your temporary connection. 
It is what he lives for; what he'd kill for.
His fair skin is flushed when you part. From the apple of his cheeks to the tip of his ears, he’s painted in a color from your palette. The pigmentation suits him. Red is the color around his eyes, of his longing for you, and of what would spill across the land should you ever part. 
“There,” you whisper, as if it were a secret meant for him alone, “That look suits you far better.” 
He wants to deny it — you can tell by how his grip tightens — but he remains uncharacteristically quiet. If he gets to delight in you, it’s only fair that you can occasionally delight in him, he supposes. 
Such is your capricious nature. 
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majinbangus · 17 days
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I Wanna Chew On His Forearms
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angomay · 2 months
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[ID: A digital drawing of Siffrin from In Stars and Time being squeezed in the palm of someone’s hand like a squishy toy. They appear distressed. Still flaming text at the bottom reads, “Squeeze,” in all caps. End ID]
squeezable siff for when the cuteness aggression hits
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puppyeared · 1 month
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i like him
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