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#so you readers can choose
the-axe-and-flail · 1 year
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Hashira- What they kiss like pt 1
Gyomei Himejima
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(WARNING- NSFW topics, MDNI/18+ only)
Surely I'm not the only person who's spent far too much time thinking what it's like kissing every single Hashira, right? (minus Mui, he gets forehead kisses bc baby) Well then, let's go on an adventure, shall we?
Shinobu•Sanemi•Obanai•Tengen•Kyojuro•Giyuu•Mitsuri
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Gyomei kisses you like you are the most delicate bone China he's ever held. He is reverent, worshiping at your lips as his fingers trace the sides of your face, your body humming with hymns he'd never dreamed of hearing. There is a deep and adoring connection when your lips meet, his busy hands begging to find rest as they intertwine into your hair. It almost hurts; the tug your heart gives when he lets a soft groan reverberate through your entire being as you pull away for air. His kisses are not greedy, nor are they lazy, but rather, they are admiring and awed. His lips quiver with emotion as they linger against yours, tarrying as if the answers to nirvana lay within them. He takes his time memorizing every curve of your lips, the touch of your tongue, and each and every gasp and sigh you give as he explores you. You are his most precious, his most important, and he makes sure you can feel that in the very depths of your heart each time he holds your face and leans in.
Gyomei's hands never leave you while you kiss, needing as many points of contact with you as he can get, but rest assured they are not idol. He loves to pull your entire body into him while he kisses you. Every inch of you touching him, as he is wrapped around you like a protective shield from all the terrible things in this world. His lips would part from yours only to find purchase on your neck, your collar bone, your jaw, but it would only last a moment before he longed to taste you again and find his way back to your kiss swollen lips.
Gyomei especially loves kissing you during sex. He craves to be as close to you, as unified with you as possible. If souls were not meant to touch, then why does his long for yours so fervently? Were he a seeing man, he'd relish in the love and desire he would read on your face while he was buried deep inside your welcomimg walls, but the connection of your lips make up for it 10 fold. He speaks words of exaltation against your jaw; his own sounds of pleasure signal the benediction to your lovemaking. At his climax, his hands so tenderly cup your face, a soft prayer, a declaration of love on the tip of his tongue as his mouth finds yours once again. This kiss is more needy, more passionate, filled with the longing to tell your spirit how profoundly he treasures you. He hopes with all his might that you understand a fraction of the depths of his love for you.
Gyomei kisses you only in private. He's not one for that kind of PDA, especially not something so wholly personal. A slayer has so few things that are truly private, he'd want to keep that part of your relationship just for you two. If you tease him a bit, letting your fingers linger on his forearms or circle his own fingertips, you can feel the shiver travel down his spine as he whispers about how very terrible you are to tempt him like that in public (not that he's serious mind you, but the ache in him doesn't stop until he can finally get you alone). He isn't the type to punish you for stirring him in inappropriate places, but the moment he gets you alone he will ask to feel you against him again.
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biteofcherry · 9 days
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Quick, random poll regarding something I'm working on now (for the Cum Together Extravaganza 👀).
All you need to know is that it's going to be fully consensual, non-dark and involves a camera...
I know my own personal inclination, but I also want to cater to my readers 😊 So please, pick. And no, he's not an Alpha in that story, so there's no option of calling him that.
And yes, I'm writing another Steve fic. Get over it 😜
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missmaywemeetagain · 1 year
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Happy 63rd Anniversary of this amazing train interview day, April 20, 1960!
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Thoughts on Abyssal blood staining our skin? Like at some point, our hands are just permanently stained (purple? black?) from helping to patch up Legacy.
I saw your tagging thoughts and can't get stained skin outta my mind lmao
~ The anon who wanted Kaveh but didn't want Baizhu or Ganyu
excellent, my plan worked >:)
the first few times you heal his wounds, the blood washes easily off your skin, but after the stain remains, becoming more and more vibrant each time you have to bandage Foul Legacy. you'll admit that you're a bit scared at first at the sight of your hands now splashed with a deep, eerie violet color- it's as if the Abyss is always with you, seeping into your skin and infecting you- but you quickly grow used to it. if Childe can manage turning into an Abyssal beast, you can get by with your hands stained with the night sky, you reason, and eventually it becomes so normal to you that you barely even notice the color of your hands anymore
on one of your rare free days, you and Foul Legacy are curled up in bed together, flipping through a novel as you absentmindedly stroke his hair. your hand trails to his face, pressing your thumb into his cheek as he purrs, but those purrs suddenly snap as Legacy lets out a sudden yelp, leaping up and snatching your wrist in his claws. he stares at your stained fingers, the darkened nails and tiny, minute cuts across your skin from when his blood burned you, and Foul Legacy weeps. you set your book down and take his face in your hands, allowing him to lean against your palms- at the very least, his tears don't harm you, and you whisper soothingly to him as he cries. Legacy whines softly and grasps your hands gently in his own, delicately licking each cut he can find and tracing a talon over the border between the dark purple and your normal skin. you keep saying that it's okay, that you're alright- but he hurt you, even if it was indirect. he hurt you- and he despises himself for it- but he can see the soft, sweet adoration in your eyes as you kiss his claws, and his star-speckled heart eases, just slightly
the next day, you venture out to the market to buy a good, sturdy pair of gloves
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punkeropercyjackson · 2 months
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Had the thought that maybe i shouldn't have made my Spidersona Hobie's parent figure because maybe in Beyond my headcanon that he hasn't seen his mom in years and thinks she's dead(it's a bit of a long story but she's not)will be debunked but then i realized i can just date her and be the girldadmalemom that stepped up.Crisis averted
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gothducky · 1 year
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why does butch = top surgery? genuine question
Short answer: It doesn't! Hope this helps <3
Long answer: I'm gonna ignore the fact that this is probably an inflammatory bait question of someone who did not even bother to check my blog and see the diversity in butch bodies that I draw. So far only 2 of the butches I've drawn have top surgery, while the rest don't <3
So! First of all I have never said anything of the sort n_n it's a term of how one identifies, you know? What a butch woman does with their body is no one's business, some butch women take T, some even get top surgery. Butches explore masculinity in their own way and that's just how THEY embody butchness.
I'm a butch woman and I don't take T nor plan on getting top surgery, yet that is how EEEEEYE embody my butch identity and it doesn't invalidate neither mine or another woman's butchness. The way I identify as a butch doesn't mean I won't draw other ways of butchhood, I aim to draw every type of butch woman I can think of! I love butch women! I want them to be loved in every way they choose to present! I want other butches to feel handsome with my art and for femmes to see a dashing handsome woman <333
I want to draw fat butches, thin butches, buff butches, trans butches, butches who go on T, butches who choose not to, non-binary butches, etc!
And before you or anyone else asks because I know they will, no, this has nothing to do with trans men. Butch women can choose to take T and get top surgery and it won't make them men, on the same slot as trans men can choose NOT to get it and it doesn't change the fact they're men. It is an individual way of presenting that at the end of the day doesn't concern you! I hope this helped you a ton!!
I LOOOVE talking about lesbianism and the diversity of butch women! Ask again soon and have a good day!! <333
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amee-racle-ofmyown · 3 months
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since I can't give you the world
Heist!Mark x reader | Words: 1,279 | Read on AO3
After a job that goes surprisingly smoothly, Heist!Mark has a gift for his partner in crime.
Despite operating in part within a larger network of criminals, it was rare for you and your heist partner to take on jobs from others, ultimately preferring to work independently. You knew you could trust one another, and freelance work meant the two of you could determine the stakes and carefully plot every point of your plan with space for improvisation if necessary, all without being accountable to anyone. It just suited you better.
On occasion, though, you would take up jobs from higher criminal organisations that could provide you with certain tech or aid in covering your tracks, or from rich clients looking for individuals to do their dirty work.
This heist had been one of those such occasions.
A wealthy tycoon had offered a generous deposit in exchange for the two of you infiltrating the penthouse belonging to the family of a rival business. Your client claimed that the owner of the company had taken some precious jewels from him and his own family's possession in their youth, and it remained mysteriously lost for years until they later had them fashioned into a jewellery set and supposedly tried to pass them off as a family heirloom. He wanted you to steal it back, saying you could take whatever else you wanted to throw any suspicion away from himself.
There was no way you could confirm this story, and usually you wouldn't choose to involve yourselves in something so personal and petty on someone else's behalf, but in addition to the incredible sum of money the client was offering just for accepting the job, this would be a fairly simple heist, with him making all the arrangements for you to get in posed as guests to a soirée held at the target location. The only catch was that you had to figure out your own escape, but with your experience it wasn't much of an issue.
The client had provided you with instructions on where to look for the items (he had refused to disclose the source of this intel, which was probably for the best).
You and Mark were able to get into the lavish event without any problems and even had fun enjoying the party before you made your move, easily slipping away from the hubbub; you made your way to distract the guard on standby so Mark could get past unnoticed.
‘Got it!’ Mark had exclaimed in a proud half-whisper, his voice coming through the earpiece communication device tucked away out of sight behind your hair. ‘And I took some other valuables n’ stuff so it looks like a more general robbery, rather than us being after something specific.’
You kept up your conversational diversion for a couple more minutes, giving Mark the chance to sneak out of the room undetected, before thanking the guard for escorting you thus far and heading on your way.
‘Ah! I think I know where to go from here, thank you ever so much for your help,’ you said in an overly grateful tone that felt far too sweet (but worked wonders). You heard Mark scoff at the other end of the line.
As the two of you slipped out and into the night, the triumph and excitement in the air between you was palpable.
‘Oooh, nice haul!’ you said gleefully, peeking into the bag of loot while Mark drove you both back to base. Meanwhile, the jewellery set for the client sat safely in its own case.
All-in-all, it had turned out to be one of your most successful heists.
Later, you have everything laid out to total up your prizes, still somewhat giddy, like kids counting up arcade tickets to see what they can win.
‘Oh! I almost forgot, I've got something for you,’ Mark says, reaching into the pocket of his suit jacket, which lies over the chair behind him.
Your head perks up with curiosity.
He holds out his hand to you, and in it is an ornate, blue pendant in a teardrop shape, hanging from a delicate gold chain. You can't say for sure what kind of gem or crystal it is, but the cut of the azure stone catches the light in such a way that you can't quite keep your eyes off it. The bail attaching the pendant has a spiralling design embedded in the metal. Overall, it's a beautiful piece.
‘Now, I know it wasn't what we were after but while I was searching the room, I saw it and I can't put my finger on why, but it made me think of you. And it was just sitting around collecting dust, y'know? I just figured, might as well give this to someone who'll actually appreciate it.’
You take the necklace gently from his hands, examining the craftsmanship between your fingers. And you think you might see why it reminded him of you. Well, not really, more like you feel it — a vague sense of familiarity about the design that you can't place, like something from a dream or long-forgotten memory.
‘Yeah,’ he says with a grin. ‘Oh— of course, if you'd rather pool it in with the rest of the loot and get your money's worth instead, that's totally fine. I won't mind, I just thought you deserve to have something for yourself.’
‘Mark… Did you steal this, for me?’
He says it casually, but the whole notion leaves you feeling incredibly touched.
‘Mark. If you got this especially for me I'm not gonna sell it. This is really thoughtful, I love it.’
‘Aw, no problem, buddy. It's nothing.’
‘No, it's not nothing. Thank you. Really.’
‘Well… I'm glad you like it.’ He smiles and you hold each other's gaze for a moment. ‘Oh — here, let me- ’
He takes the necklace from you and after a second you realise he intends to help you put it on.
He leans closer, unclasping the chain carefully.
‘So, what's the occasion?’ you ask, conscious of how his hands brush against your skin as he moves them to close the clasp behind your neck.
‘Do I need a reason to give my friend a gift?’
‘... I guess not.’
He lingers in your space a bit longer than necessary, hands just barely resting at the curve where your neck meets your shoulders.
And maybe it's the tenderness and unspoken intimacy of this physical act, or that you're used to taking and not so much receiving, or the fact that he thought to keep this for you at all, but for whatever reason, your heart feels incredibly full.
‘It suits you.’
After that day, you wear your new accessory all the time when you're home.
You refuse to wear it out, even if you're simply going to meet with friends or the two of you are on a standard grocery run, out of fear that it'll get lost or damaged or, ironically, stolen.
Regardless, Mark can tell how much it means to you by the way he'll notice it hanging over your collar bones when you groggily traipse over to the kitchen for breakfast every morning, or how it is still around your neck when you fall asleep slumped against him in your living room by the end of the day. And whenever anyone comes over to visit, you wear it proudly, and he feels himself swell with happiness and pride in turn when your friends compliment it and you mention how ‘Mark gave it to me’.
You truly do love your gift, but what you cherish far more is the care behind the gesture, and the fact that he looks pleased whenever you wear it.
You'll have to find some way to return the favour.
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stumbled across a ballad of songbirds and snakes critique video and I couldn't even watch it because the person so did not get what the book was doing and saying and the comments were complaining about the unnecessary romance when it's super obvious it's not intended to be a romance. suzanne collins is, yet again, ahead of her time because I remember the hate mockingjay got when it came out for killing prim and having katniss vote for new hunger games when those plot points are crucial and are meant to act as a commentary
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orcelito · 5 months
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I think the #1 thing to make writing good is to just. Stick to your guns. Take yourself seriously. If you treat your writing as if it's serious, even if you're doing some crazy shit, people are willing to believe it. The moment you doubt what you're doing in your writing, it's gonna shine through. So even if you're scared, pretend you're not until you get the hang of it & no longer feel so scared
It's worked for me so far 😅
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biteofcherry · 10 months
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In a want to be spanked so good mood 🥺🍑🤭
over Steve’s knee, with his bare hand
zip-tied and paddled by Lloyd
on pristine sheets, with Andy’s belt
against the wall, taking it from Bucky’s metal hand 
squirming on tiptoes from Ari’s lashes 
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yugiohz · 9 months
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both fiction and nonfiction work! <3
non-fiction:
Jeffrey Andrew Weinstock, Monster Theory (not exclusively gothic but obviously closely related) (long)
Jeffrey Jerome Cohen, Seven Theses (very short essay on monster theory, also related to gothic) (short)
Catherine Spooner, The Routeledge Companion to Gothic Lit & Contemporary Gothic (long)
Jack Halberstam, Skin Shows: Gothic Horror and the Technology fo Monsters (short)
fiction: I read much more non-fiction on Gothic Lit and am bad at remembering the ones ive read, for my studies i just looked up lists with gothic fiction sorryyyy
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goldenhypen · 1 year
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muninnhuginn · 1 year
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using the spy x family anime vs manga translations of examples of translation vs localisation
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bidokja · 11 months
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saw some post epilogue extras spoilers. i hate being right.
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outofthiisworld · 4 months
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@viopolis sent in: ۞ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ send me a "۞" and I'll introduce you to one of my other muses
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[🔥] An ash storm had breached past the imposing stone wall, known to the locals as The Bulwark— Raven Rock's main defense against invading bandits, the smoldering ash from Red Mountain, and as well as it's own dreaded ash spawn that litter the ravaged wastes of the island.
Yet, still the storm persisted; whipping up the market streets in a thick cloak of smoke and ash.
Unprotected and ill-prepared as any outlander would be upon first arrival onto Solstheim's shores: your lungs suffocated and eyes watered under the full brunt of the ash— you were forced to seek shelter into THE RETCHING NETCH.
The cornerclub bustled with activity, a rarity that you were unaware of for this time of day, but it seemed that everyone else had a similar thought long before you. A rough COUGH wheezed out of your throat, yet no one flinched at the intrusion as you dusted off the sand & ash that coated your duster (this seemed to be the norm, you noted, as you soon heard another WHEEZED COUGH from further within).
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While no one seemed to pay attention to an outlander such as yourself— you had caught the eye of only one, who watched you like a hawk behind a carefully crafted, chitin mask.
He rested beside a roaring fire-spit, head tilted as you coughed up more cinders that tickled deep in your throat. He huffed a laugh as you wiped at your burning eyes.
"You'll just make it worse if you keep rubbing your eyes like that," He called out to you, voice full of gravel and oil.
"New to the ash, outlander? Seems to me that YOU are in need of a GUIDE."
The masked stranger barked another laugh as you desperately tried to blink the ash away, before he handed you a worn rag.
"TELDRYN SERO— the best SWORDSMAN in all of MORROWIND! I'd be more than happy to offer you my services while you traverse in this wretched wasteland ... ah, for the right price, that is."
Oh, great. Just your luck: a mercenary.
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