#tumblr this time PLEASE don't mess up my tags please | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

BuzzFeed published a report claiming that Tumblr was utilized as a distribution channel for Russian agents to influence American voting habits during the 2016 presidential election in Feb 2018.

#tumblr this time PLEASE don't mess up my tags please

fuckyeahmhawkefenris · 10 hours

Text

MAJOR update

So I don't know if anyone else even cares about this stuff, but I made some huge progress with tagging/retagging things here. For some time I haven't been tagging any posts at all lacking motivation because, seriously, does anyone even look at tags these days?

Still, my love for this ship keeps me going. Maker, I'd forgotten how therapeutic the process is. For a few days I almost stopped dwelling on my own personal issues.

Anyway

Allow me to remind y'all that this blog has a list of TAGS, a rather extensive one. I shudder to think how much time I spent compiling it all, but it does make me happier somehow

We have an impressive collection of fanart, so many comic bits they had to be separated into their own category to make it possible to navigate through all the artwork, writings that I don't think can be found anywhere else. In the beginning this fandom also used to produce a lot of memes and jokes, not so much of it now, but we don't forget our history! There is so much to uncover and rediscover.

I guess that canoodling/hugging/cuddling/snuggling tags are still a mess (always have been) despite my best efforts, but I genuinely tried to make it make sense somewhat. Having 8000+ pieces of art for your ship gets you there. Hard to believe it used to be almost nonexisistent in the beginning. It was so easy to navigate in 2012...

I didn't even try to sort out the comics, and fiction is not tagged either, except for the most basic basics.

Well, if anyone has any better ideas/suggestions don't be shy about @ ing me. Hell, if you can think of any new tags worth adding, let me know. And if you could reply to the relevant posts with it, it'd be fantastic.

If you're bored and don't mind spending some time with Fenris and Hawke, observing them love each other, please take a look at the list. There are also separate pages for the people who make fanart and write stuff for us, so you can always find more of their works by looking up the artists name in the tags. Though this page is forever in progress.

There's always room for improvement, so if you have anything to say, PLEASE SAY IT.

Also, the pornstash is up again, and now there is some semblance of a system.

It is a members-only blog, since almost all of its content is flagged and can only be viewed by members. So you need to become one. Everyone is welcome to join, but please don't follow it. All you need to do is like this post. I'll see your username and send you an invite. After that you'll need to check your e-mail (NOT tumblr inbox!) and follow the link you'll find there. And please read the post i linked carefully, there's vital information in it.

I'm just really tired

I'd really like to sort this place out completely so that when I retire, and someone is willing to take it off my hands, I could be at peace.

#fenhawke #hawris #male hawke x fenris #male hawke #garrett hawke #custom hawke #dragon age 2 #announcements #theBlog

21 notes · View notes

russetfoxfur · 6 months

Text

mcyt is NOT beating the criminal allegations

- mumbo did season eight which. ah. produced the wonderful quote: "My parents are still alive... but that can be changed."

- cub eats people

- bad is a cannibal. this is different from eating people, according to my irl. do i want to know

- fit was on 2b2t

- wilbur blew up a country and killed a buncha people

- phil blew up that country too (apparently)

- scar. ah. scar did monopoly mountain and things went downhill from there

- dont even get me started on gem. she started the whole secret life apocalypse. she killed etho at least sixteen times. she is on tumblr which means tango is scared of her AS HE SHOULD BE

- sausage had that whole esmp s1 evil thing. classifying this as sausage because i watched an episode of gem's where he appeared and nothing else and don't actually watch esmp except through osmosis

- didnt joe hills kill a bunch of dogs in s7

- etho ALSO kills people but BADLY (scar boogie kill)

- dream

- *eyeing zedaph's chamber suspiciously* this violates AT LEAST one scientific law or something

- grian. grian my beloved. why are you like this

- jaiden decimated the environment of teyvat

- see lizzie is like her husband. unhinged. shes just bad at surviving so no one gets to see it

- jimmy is like lizzie but more popular for it

- tango is a war criminal but he also makes funny sounds while he commits crimes so i think that negates the whole crimes thing

- while we're at it. all the lifers are criminals EXCEPT SKIZZ EXCEPT SKIZZ EXCEPT SKIZZ

- xisuma boils chicken and eats kiwi skin. worst offense on this list by far

- gem gets a second place on this list because why not. she deserves it

- bdubs bites ankles. probably

- martyn brought the watchers to the life smp which is bad in and of itself. also the Assigned Criminal At Life Series thing

- cherrifire gets an honorary spot on this list mostly because she SHOULD be able to bite ankles. due to aforementioned martyn

anyways please tag w other crimes our blorbos have commited. cheers <3

EDIT: I will be adding more crimes now

- keralis was a capitalist in s7 who bought. rotten flesh. for 128 diamonds. truly exemplifying a billionaire there. dont worry dont worry. hes not a capitalist anymore....but he was once

- pearl poisons people and then has her dogs bite you. reasonable

- cleo does arson. she also kills people. but she does this a lot so it also negates the crimes

- don't mess with forgelabs

- ren has become a dictator at least twice. likes bloodshed. also treebark counts for all the anguish it causes everyone. also also ACALS (assigned criminal at life series)

ALSO if anyone is going to yell at me for fit being on 2b2t. i do not watch him. he is only here because my mcyt irls go insane about him. like all the time. in fact i don't watch qsmp or dsmp but theyre popular enough i know a bit about them. <3

506 notes · View notes

sobredunia · 2 months

Text

Hey guys is it just me or are the stars in the sky looking a bit weirder than usual

Alt version + tagging of the creators of all the starlos under the cut

I was messing with this static filter thing and ngl it looks neat

anyways. tagging avalanche time. Left to right up to down

RustyRedemption!Starlo by EldritchDream_ on twitter (THE BODY/PLANT HORROR IS JUST *chefs kiss*) edit: THEY HAVE A TUMBLR THEY HAVE A TUMBLR THEY GET TO SEE THIS LET'S GOOOOO @eldritchdream99 LOOK!! ITS UR SILLY!!!

AntiMatter!Starlo by ghoulishthingz on twitter (I KNOW YOUR NAME NOW FUCKER. v good one ngl it fucks severely)

Hero!Starlo by @zedleaked (he b t-posing baybeyy)

Goldstar by @s0ckh3adstudios (fun fact I named the layer he's on "I miss my husband Tails". also this is the first time i've drawn him. and yet i've drawn utg chujin thrice already which i think says something. not sure what but it says something)

Gilded!Starlo by @moreworldliness (I LOVE HIM SOSO MUCH I JUST WANT HIM TO BE OKAY PLEASE)

VOACT!Starlo by mee :3

Sirius by @here1snyan (I don't need to explain myself you already know how insane this man makes me you've seen the dog art)

Nebula by @llamapear (THE FUCKING GUY OF ALL TIME)

Starry screen buddy by @therealcallmekd (i love his girl outfit i had to draw it)

Fell!Starlo by @pantamonte (he's so silly i want to see him flattened by a steam roller /pos)

Lover's amalgamate by @silverika326 (literally obsessed with this concept you dont even know. ive wanted to draw them for so long)

Devotion!Starlo by @specklx (really proud of how the pose came out ngl. he serves so much cunt)

Apollo by @vastrophel (not exactly a starlo but the design fucks how could i not draw him)

Cat!Starlo by @fivepedal (i lov. kimty :3 )

Starfell by @stringsbasement-vitale (he gives off ACAB vibes you just know he'd be a redswap starlo hater)

Redswap!Starlo by @wist-eri (I'm sorry i had to do it. i have literally never drawn this man in a serious situation/taking the situation seriously and I'm not gonna start now)

Hollow!Starlo by @floataaaa (literally the design of all time i love him)

Alright that's all of them. I have drawn so many stars my god

also. art taglist time

@rotkad @sansxfuckyou @blackfright @beetroot-merchant @ashs-hellhole @h3xt0r @bree-sae @helloidkwhatimdoing-0 @zecrisketch

234 notes · View notes

highvern · 2 months

Text

Sales Pitch II

Pairing: Moon Junhui x fe!reader, feat. Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

Genre: Smut, 21+

Warnings: consensual voyeurism, exhibitionism, cum eating, spitting, unprotected sex, cream pie, snowballing, dom/sub themes, masturbation, multiple sex positions, impact play, choking, take me to paris wonhui!

Length: ~5k

Note: for all legal purposes, im still on semi-hiatus! this is just more torture for my bestie @wenjunehui patterns is still shelved until further notice, don't ask me about updates pls :) as always lmk what you guys think! also please ignore any errors i cracked this out in a lust fueled haze for pathetic bratty sub jun

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

Read part I

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Your back meeting the cool wood of the door muffles the click of the lock. All you can feel is Wonwoo; the weight of his body, his lips trailing across your jaw, his hair curled around your fingers. A sharp tug lets you feel more, urging him to grind his half hard cock into your core.

Darkness encases your intertwined figures on all sides. Only the faint light about the stove casting a hazy yellow that fails to reach the far corners of the room. You like it better this way. More anticipation in every touch. A flash of Wonwoo’s pale skin when your fingers drift under his sweater, or the dim shadow of his form dancing across your shut eyelids as he moves you further inside.

He doesn’t waste any time rushing towards the counter, lifting you up easily and shoving a hand up your short skirt. Wonwoo finds what you both knew he would; soaked and pantiless with arousal smeared between your thighs. You’d played the game all night, biting your tongue each time his finger tips skimmed the inside of your knee during the movie. Or at dinner when he watched you with an unimpressed gaze over the rim of his wine glass. All of it built up to this.

A finger dips in; barely breaching your entrance before retreating. The tease makes you desperate; tightening around each thrust to convince him to stay and press deeper only for Wonwoo to chuckle and leave you gaping again and again with more slick dripping down his digits each time.

“C’mon,” you huff. You're quick to snag his wrist, using every ounce of strength to force in place as your hips grind up.

Wonwoo needs no more encouragement after the first sharp whimper of satisfaction you release. Instead, he presses hard with another finger until you can feel him in your lungs. The suffocating heat of your top results in its swift removal. But the relief is short lived as teeth nip at the curve of your breasts before dropping to suck a nipple through the lace. Thighs muffling the debauchery, you pant into his hairline while his own mouth focuses on bruising your chest.

Skirt belting your hips, Wonwoo drops more fervent kisses as he descends lower and lower. The granite of the counter is cool against your sweat back but unforgiven when you arch at the first timid flash of his tongue through your folds. The mess between your legs turns obscene under his mouth, lips smacking with each lash against your clit.

But it’s all still a tease. Nothing but a show to prove he can give and take and give and take until you’re willing to cry for more. Or at least until the man watching from the shadows caves and blows the illusion.

In your peripheral, Jun stands out in the arm chair at the far end of the room. If you didn’t know he was there then you’d never guess. The kitchen and living room connected in what is really a singular large space, uninterrupted by anything that could distract the view. And what a view he has; you topless, nipples shiny and spine curled while his roommate eats you out on the counter.

You won’t look where you know he’s sitting, no doubt cupping himself over his jeans in desperation. Jun is a good boy. He touches when he’s told and sits on his hands when he can’t help it. But you’re spread like a feast under Wonwoo’s mouth and Jun is just a man.

Wonwoo plucks and strokes, nips and sucks, driving you inch by desperate inch to the brink. Warm and worn under his mouth, another finger sinks in easily but Wonwoo goads anyway.

“Fucking tight,” he jests a little too loud for the small space between you but he wants Jun to hear. It’s sick.

Especially when you hear a sharp inhale from where he sits.

The flat of Wonwoo’s palm lands on your stomach, skin sticking to skin as he forces your hips down. You don’t take to the warning. With your coworker slash friend with benefits who you occasionally go on dates with but not saying anything, you call all the shots. If you want to hump his face until he passes out from lack of oxygen, Jun will beg you to do it. If you want to sit on his cock while he counts the register, well it might take him five times to get the numbers in order but what his queen wants, she gets.

Wonwoo isn’t as eager to let you take charge and lets you know with the impact of his hand on your cunt.

“Fuck!”

He massages away the sting, thumb dipping to replace his tongue at your clit. “Stop moving.”

“Fuck off.” You bite.

The air cracks with tension. You’d take the amused twitch of Wonwoo’s lips as a challenge if it wasn't for the plan hatched during the car ride home. A sure fire way to get Jun so riled up he’d ruin his record of perfect behavior and give you and Wonwoo the chance to punish him the best way possible.

Your back talk goes as planned. Wonwoo rises, a tight grip at the back of your neck while he drags you up. It looks worse than it is. Another tease at Jun, taunting him with the idea of you giving him the same treatment.

But instead of fucking you over the counter like originally discussed, Wonwoo fumbles towards your room, out of Jun’s sight. You can hear him rise to follow with rushed footsteps but the door slams shut in his face before he can stop it. The lock clicks just as quickly and your left stifling amused cackles with Wonwoo doing the same.

“What the fuck guys?” Jun calls from the other side, rattling the door knob desperately.

Is it better to acknowledge his frustration or pretend he doesn’t even exist? Jun calls again, a timid knock punctuating his plea.

“Yeah?” You call, back settling against the door louder than necessary. Wonwoo takes back up the work at your chest, sucking a taunt nipple between his teeth while you do all the talking.

“I’m locked out.”

Your head thuds back as Wonwoo licks his way to your neglected breast, responding with more breath to hint at what's transpiring out of his line of sight, “We’re kinda busy.”

“But—” he starts, only to be silenced.

“Oh, Wonwoo! Fuck.”

His fingers aren’t as deft as Jun’s and neither is his tongue but you’re spurred by the frustration in Jun’s tone. The metal of the knob continues to rattle, more erratic with every whimpered plea for more from the man in front of you. Turning around, your face melts against the wood while Wonwoo unzips his pants and presents himself.

“You’re so big,” you coo.

Wonwoo rolls his eyes at the obvious bait but plays right along. “Yeah? Think you can take it?”

A bang near your head sends you into the air.

“Let me in!” Jun demands.

His voice is hard. Steeled with a tone you’ve never heard before and it sends a chill down your spine.

But Wonwoo seems undisturbed as he bends you at the waist. “She’s busy.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Jun bites before melting softer. “Y/N, you said I could watch.”

The head of Wonwoo’s cock nestles against your entrance. He waits while you figure out your next move. Wonwoo agreed he’d go along with whatever you decided but the ghost of being split full makes all the choices bleed into one.

“You’re not even asking right.” You say. “Maybe if you ask like a good boy we’ll let you in.”

“Please? Please let me in. I’ve been good. You said I could watch, baby. Please.”

“I don’t know. What do you think, Woo?”

Glancing over your shoulder, he shrugs. And then Wonwoo spits where his dick rests and rushes inside.

You know Jun hates it. He can feel Wonwoo fuck you into the door, every thrust leaving the wood to groan under the additional weight. If that wasn’t enough he can hear everything too. Your breathy moans, the slap of hips against your body, the sound of your sopping pussy.

The few times he’s worn a blindfold proved he doesn’t like to be teased; a trail of broken cuffs and other restraints left in his wake. He’d rather be overstimulated until he’s cross eyed and barely breathing than edged. The one time you tried left your ass sore for days from bites and spanks.

With each ticking second a repeat inches closer. And maybe with Wonwoo in the mix, Jun will be even more possessive. It certainly sounds like it as he grows exasperated in his pleas.

“Shit you’re so wet.” Wonwoo groans. “Bet you wish you could see it. Don’t you?”

“Fuck you.”

You catch the telltale rasp in his voice too easily. Jun isn’t even trying to pretend.

Smacking your fist against the door, you fume. “Are you fucking serious?”

Wonwoo freezes. A trickle of fear he’s over stepped rushes his spine until your ass pushes back into the cradle of his hips. Your reprimand isn't’ for him. It’s for the brat jerking himself off like you don’t own his cock.

“You didn’t let me in.” Jun teases, moaning boldly.

Jun gets what he wants. The door unlocks and you find him with his pants around his thighs, the tip of his cock shiny as it peeks through his tight fist. He doesn’t even stop the flutter of his wrist when your eyes find his face, ready for whatever punishment you might throw his way.

You step into his space. So close his length digs into the softness of your belly while your hand traces along his neck. Jun isn’t stupid enough to think you’re apologizing but your next words make him shudder.

“You’re gonna regret that.” You bite, teeth digging into his neck to leave a mark.

Wonwoo’s eyes burn across your body from where he sits on the bed, watching every move. You won’t be bested by Jun while someone else is around to witness so your touches turn possessive; nails raking across his skin, fingers pinching his nipples until he cries for mercy. The beginnings of a bruise blooms across his throat. And Jun’s wrist still never stops.

“Go sit on the bed.”

A trail of clothes flutters in his wake. About a foot of space sits between him and his roommate. Wonwoo maintains his cocky expression while waves of frustration waft from Jun. But neither speak as you dig through your side table for a bottle of lube.

You approach where they wait, turning so you back meets Wonwoo’s chest as you sink into his lap. He curls both arms over your stomach and traces your shoulder with his nose.

“Jun, come here.”

He’s in front of you in a second, cock bobbing right at your chest.

“Wonwoo is gonna fuck me and you’re gonna watch.”

“No.” Jun states.

Even Wonwoo stops at the sudden refusal. “No?”

“I wanna touch you too.”

His fingers twitch at the idea, desperate to feel you on him after being denied the promise to watch.

You hope your idea will calm his disobedience for now. Gazing with soft features, your hand finds his hip and strokes gentle circles into the skin. “But you broke the rules, baby.”

“So did you!”

You circle his cock in your hand, slowly working him just the way he likes until the quake in his legs nearly sends him to the floor.

“If you don’t cum, then you can fuck me. But if you do, then you don’t get to touch me the rest of the night. Deal?”

He opens his mouth to object but you beat him to the punch.

“Or Wonwoo and I can have fun and you can go sit in the living room until we’re done.”

Maybe it's the way your thumb swipes at his tip, or the dip of your head to lap away the mess. Or it could be how you look at him, hopeful he’ll agree because you’re not done playing with him yet. But it's probably because you leave a gentle peck on his stomach to hide the whispered ‘please’ for his ears only.

“Okay.”

Before you can praise him, Jun pulls you up into a searing kiss. It’s messy and sloppy in the best ways. His tongue licks into your mouth, gliding across yours and lapping away any noise you both make. Not even the discomfort of his nose burrowing into your cheek manages to distract you from the new dynamic. The heat makes your toes curl embarrassingly; like a teenager getting her first kiss with the boy she’s crushed on for months. Maybe it's a closer description than you’d like but you don’t dwell. Just rise on your knees to chase him for more, more, more until you're floating.

And considering how his fingers curl around the arch of your jaw, Jun clearly plans to stay a while.

But it also makes you remember it’s not Jun’s hands at your chest. It’s definitely not Jun’s cock sinking inside you because you still have him leaking in your hand. The image of Wonwoo sitting beneath you, watching as you and Jun dissolve into a matching set of needy desperate messes brings you back down from the clouds.

The bottle of lube enters the playing field again, its contents cold and slimy as you squirt it over your breasts. Wonwoo jostles you in his lap with every stilted grind as he searches for his own pleasure. Roused by the commotion, Jun sits back to see what you have planned. His love for your tits excels beyond casual interests and verges on perversion. A hand raises to help massage the soft skin but he stops short and remembers what you asked. But the drool slipping out the corner of his lips can’t be helped when squeeze them together and the flesh bounces.

He knows you have more up your sleeve than a lewd show although he’d happily empty his load on your chest and watch you rub it into the skin as well. Mark you as his even if Wonwoo gets to dump his spend in your cunt. Jun’s done it before and he’ll get to do it again and again long after Wonwoo’s out the front door.

Hot and wet, the tip of his cock grazes your nipple when you lean forward; both twitching at the contact. Jun steps up and lets himself rest on your sternum, releasing a pained breath while you press your tits together to squeeze him tight. More lube helps the first slide and leaves his pre-cum dappling against the hollow of your throat.

“Jesus—shit,” he puffs.

Wanting to hear more, you lap at the head of his cock on the next downstroke and are rewarded with your chin glossed in pearly white.

Wonwoo paws instantly at your ass and hips, refusing to ask for you to dedicate an iota of attention to his blight. Wedged so deep inside you, you nearly rise all the way up on your knees before sinking back down. Every drop leaves you stuffed with two cocks and you can’t help but wonder if more preparation could make you even more full next time.

“Want you to cum, kitty.” You coo, lips puckered on the next suck.

His head drops back, lip bruised between his teeth. “Can’t.”

“But I want you to,” you hiccup in a feign of innocence. “You’ve been so good. You deserve it baby.”

Your words are sweet like honey. Jun wants to cave, it's painted so plainly on his face. Eyes screwed tight, lip quivering, hands fisted at his sides while his body wages war with his mind. But one lube slick finger dipping beneath his balls and going for the soft spot just before his ass finishes the battle.

His stomach caves as he cums, rogue without aim. You manage to catch enough on your tongue to satiate your need for him but the rest drips and trails across your face and torso as you continue to bounce on Wonwoo’s cock without so much as a missed breath.

Sweat beads along your back and Wonwoo’s chest suffocates your skin even further. Leaning back, he accommodates your wish and falls to his elbows without missing a beat; feet planted on the floor so he can buck up into you.

Jun can only stand and watch, the evidence of his failure shinny across your chin, neck, and chest. Rounded eyes brimmed with disappointment meet his own as he falls to his knees to clean up the mess.

He’s breaking the rules again but you honestly can’t care with the way he sucks away his own cum. You’re not too keen on it going to waste so before he can swallow you pull him up, split his lips open with your thumb, and get a taste for yourself.

Your chest is covered with his mouth again before he rises and spits his haul into your waiting tongue. Jun keeps going. He doesn’t stop until there's nothing left and even then he presents his own tongue for you to spit on when he’s done.

“You’re so nasty,” you pant as he gulps down your present.

Jun focuses on leaving a brand of his teeth below your jaw, grunting when you grab for his limp cock again. He can give you more. He always does. A final kiss satisfies Jun’s needs before you send him back on his haunches to wait.

Wonwoo barely registers as an afterthought, his presence eclipsed by Jun’s desperation and your eagerness. But he deserves to get what he came for. The quicker the better because you still have unfinished business with your coworker turned fuck buddy.

Slipping from his lap, his cock falls against his stock. Rigid and coated in your arousal, you rush to face him and sink back down.

He sighs at the relief, “finally” before dropping fingers to your clit while the other circles your throat.

Your back meets the sticky sheets swiftly. Wonwoo presses deep and firm, stretching you to the limit. Jun still sits in the back of your head even if you can’t see him. You know he’s watching and it's enough to make you shy. But there's no room for it as Wonwoo hooks your knees in the dip of his elbows and spreads you wider, no doubt making Jun privy to your wrecked cunt.

“Harder,” you choke.

Wonwoo gets lost in the motions and nearly crushes you into the bed for it. Your fingers find his stagnated ones, brushing them aside to swipe against the raw bundle of nerves.

Teeth tug at your earlobe, biting into the softness as the end breaches over his spine. You retaliate with the sting of your nails down his back, digging harshly when you reach his ass to force him deeper.

“Fuck, yeah.” He groans, voice breaking. Another harsh press of his hips sends you up the bed from the force. “C-c-cuming. Fuck, I’m cuming.”

Hot rope after hot rope creams your insides as Wonwoo works through his orgasm. You feel something dripping down your slit to your ass and assume he’s stuffed you with more than you can take.

He pecks your cheek in thanks, signing off with a press of his nose before rolling away and leaving you empty. And the other discussion from the car comes back.

“I can’t believe it was Jun’s idea for me to take you on a date.” Wonwoo snorts.

“Why?”

“Because what guy wants another man taking out his girlfriend.”

You sit in uncomfortable silence, unable to admit the truth. Jun isn’t your boyfriend. And the entire charade tonight doesn’t seem to point that his interests even point remotely in that direction.

“So you and Jun aren’t dating?”

“No.”

“Well this is gonna go great.” Wonwoo quips.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You can’t help but be defensive but before you can get an answer he’s pulling into the parking lot of the restaurant.

The wet of Jun’s lips glide across your ankle, up your shin and over your knee. His hands find the crease and he pushes until your legs dangle over his shoulders. Every touch is devout, an attempt to soak in your presence without the previous interference. One of your palms finds his cheek and Jun is quick to drop a lazy kiss to it before setting to work between your legs.

He doesn’t rush. If Jun wanted you wailing and twitching he’d have you there already. Instead, slow strokes bring you back to life bit by bit while his hands keep kneading the meat of your thighs and stomach.

Melting under the attention, you don’t even notice Wonwoo begins to rise until he speaks.

“That was fun.”

Neither of you acknowledge him. Too lost in one another, if you focus hard enough you can completely ignore the sound of him collecting his clothes.

But Jun can’t.

Every shuffle earns a harsh lick against your sensitive clit. He doesn’t stop when your thighs nearly crush his head or your fingers tug at his hair. For the first time, Jun doesn’t listen to your silent instructions at all.

His fingers lack the same timidity as his mouth. Three spear you immediately, curving and scissoring until your vision goes fuzzy at the edges. More of Wonwoo’s cum leaks out and Jun is quick to lap it away and spit it into the bed sheets away from where you lay.

“Now that’s just insulting.” Wonwoo calls. You find him lent against the door frame, dressed with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

Jun doesn’t let up. If anything, the sound of his roommate's voice spurs him on.

You gesture vaguely towards the door with a gasped, “get out,” before you fall back under Jun’s spell.

He focuses on cleaning away any proof Wonwoo was ever there. His fingers soak in your ruined cunt to pull away the excess before his tongue sneaks inside

“Oh my god— J–Jun.” You beg, body kicking in a tantrum while tears curl in your eyes.

He offers a hand to hold on your stomach while he continues to prove whatever point he hopes to make in the crux of your thighs. You grip on for dear life, nails leaving crescents on his skin while his thumb brushes against your palm in time with his tongue teasing lower and lower.

“Tell me I’m better.”

You barely make out the words muffled in your cunt. Immediately you think he’s asking for more praise, the kind he gets when he cums twice within minutes. But you can’t wax poetically about how good he is with the way brands his tongue into your heat. All you can do is moan and whine with gusto and hope it's enough.

Jun rises, face coated in your arousal and eyes lazy. He doesn’t reject your kiss, or the shy way you prod the seam of his lips with your tongue. Tonights different in a million ways and the fact you feel nervous underneath him makes you even more skittish.

Hips cradling his, Jun slides his cock deep without the usual stretch thanks to the hours of play. Jun anchors your legs wide to watch you take him inch by inch. Curiosity gets the better of you, and your chin dips to see the display as well. Not the first time he’s fucked you raw but the constrate of his skin against your own never grows dull. Trailing your eyes up further, you observe the twitch of his stomach every time you clench around him until Jun crushes you into the sheets.

You're both desperate. Breath puffing into eachothers mouths as you meet in a pathetic kiss. Sweat slicks your belly against his own. Jun covers every inch of your body he can like he wants to melt together and stay that way forever.

“God, Jun!” You cry. “Shit, shit. G-gonna cum.”

Riled beyond belief, you need to cum. If it’s on his cock, or his fingers, or his face, you don’t care. As long as he’s there to help you through it.

“I’m better than him, right? You want me more?”

He’s right in your ear, clear as day. Hours of build up freezes and shatters in half a second.

Your legs lock around the smell of his back, slowly his frantic pace until he’s calm enough to take a breath. His embarrassment hides in the curve of your throat. Jun paints apologetic kisses across every stretch of skin he can find while you wait for him to speak.

“Jun?”

Nose cutting into the soft space under your jaw, he whispers, “I don’t want you to sleep with other people.”

Your gut tugs defensively. How dare he? Wonwoo was Jun’s idea, not yours; his roommate who made one joke about hearing you two fucking into the early hours of the morning. It was Jun who asked to invite him in. But before you can remind him of the fact, he frees his next truth.

“I want it to be just us.”

Hot and cold flash on your skin and a pit the size of an elephant explodes your stomach. There's too much ambiguity in such a statement. Too many what ifs. Considering his cock is still pressed between your legs, you refuse to be hopeful he’s asking for more than exclusive permission to your body.

“Okay.”

He jumps away from his hiding place, face wide with amazement. “Really?”

“Sure,” you swallow. “We won’t fuck anyone else.”

“That isn’t…I want it to be us. Us? You and me?”

“Like dating?”

He nods mutely.

A smile tilts the corners of your mouth, splitting your face ridiculously. You whisper again, “okay.”

Shy smiles and avoidant eyes are out of place giving what you’re doing. Given everything you have done. But you like Jun and he likes you and now you're both nervous because being naked means more now than it did twenty minutes ago.

You forge the courage to kiss him with gossamer drags of your lips over his jaw. He giggles when your breath ghosts over the shell of his ear, folding his head down to his shoulder to stop the maddening sensation and you can’t help but glow from the absurdity.

Pouting playful, you rope him into the fun with a taunt.“Kiss me.”

Jun doesn’t play around the demand. He seals his lips over yours, only interrupted by a grin that turns the connection into teeth from the twin smiles illuminating your faces.

After the initial giddiness dims, Jun seems to remember he’s still inside you with a cursory thrust. It’s the same way he was fucking you before but now there are feelings and everything has an indecipherable edge.

His mouth avoids the sensitive parts of your chest, focusing on rubbing his lips across your skin and soaking in the feeling rather than soliciting a response. He’s aimless in his pursuits but you enjoy the attention all the same.

A sigh of your name signals his end. But Jun won’t cum a second time. Not while you still haven’t had your first.

Steady on one arm, he sucks his thumb into his mouth before slithering it where you meet. Everything quakes under the pressure, hours of teasing rising to a boil without preamble. Tremors ripple from your sore clit through every muscle. Growing stronger and stronger until you're bucking wildly.

“Please cum, need it baby.” Jun whimpers, veins raising on his neck from the strain to hold back. “Been so good. I listened! Please, please, please.”

He’s pathetic. Weak for good pussy and a dom who’ll give him the direction he needs to please. And you’re even more pathetic because you’re cumming on the next whiny breath he releases.

Jun tries to fuck you through it, but the lewd mix of lube, arousal, and cum proves to hinder rather than help. He slips out and leaves you aching at first, two sets of hands scrambling to slip him back home. In the deep end of bliss, you crave the closeness rather than need it but it doesn’t stop Jun from huffing with frustration.

You grow boneless and pliant through the next strokes, eager to see him make another mess. Nothing feels as good as he does on your skin. Managing two handfuls of ass, you pull him deeper until he cries.

“Wanna feel you make this pussy yours.” You beg into his shoulder. “Will you do that for me? Fill me with your cum?”

His response is a raw moan, pathetic at your offer. The flutter of your walls around him unravels the knot of his second release until he’s rushing forward, forcing you down until you can’t breathe while he ruts every drop of his spend as deep as possible.

You already know what he plans to do when he attempts to slip out. He's a freak in the most predictable ways. But a ghost of your foot along the sensitive back of his thigh and a coo for his return quell the hunger for further depravity.

Relishing in the silence, you both find places to stroke and explore. The calloused pad of Jun’s thumb follows the bow of your lips, swirling across the sensitive skin with an occasional pause; only to start again when you bestow a gentle kiss.

“Can we sleep on the couch? It’s fucking nasty in here.”

Scoffing, you force him out of your chest with a palm to his forehead. “I’m sorry, who was the one spitting cum earlier?”

“Shut up.” Jun pouts, kissing his point across.

Dozing on the couch, Jun lights the pre-roll from his overnight bag. A few puffs are all it takes to melt the lingering jitters from his confession. Somehow this Jun, cozy in his sweats with damp hair and a lazy grin, is more imposing than the one who left the mess still staining your panties. But he doesn’t let you stay at the far end of the couch for long. Planted between long legs, back to his chest while his fingers tangle together on your stomach, you find it all feels right.

@tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @horanghaezone

227 notes · View notes

9toji · 10 months

Text

‧₊˚✩彡 I WANNA RIDE —

MINORS DNI !

pairings ; gojo x fem! reader ; nanami x fem! reader

tags / tw ; thigh-riding, use of endearments: bunny, cockwarming, bratty! reader (nanami), soft dom! gojo, slightly mean! dom nanami (bcs you tease him) characters are 22+

rina's comments ; my first work >< enjoy!!

“satoru..” you could only groan and gasp as gojo stares at you, completely in awe. his glowing blue eyes look over to your cunt, with a pleased grin. he loves the way it slicks up his clothed thigh, how the slick stains his black jeans.

he laughs at the way you shake and gasp for air, “we've only just started bunny, already so wet f'me.. look at you.. workin' that cunt. looks so delicious.” his voice drawls, completely enamored by you riding his thigh, how your back arches as if you're riding his cock.

“so sensitive bunny, can you even take my cock later? look at how huge your juices stained my pants baby.” he coos, making you look at your “dirty little mess.” nodding as if your life depended on it, you wanted him inside, needed it. god, it's been so long, you missed it.

and gojo couldn't blame you for missing the fucking, all the time away from each other made you want it even more. and that tight black shirt, it was just to die for.. and that's all you had to look at as you rode your high, groaning against the flimsy fabric of his pants.

satoru watched as your cum dripped down on to his thigh, he swore your legs were shaking as you sat back down on it. whimpering and pleading eyes that begged gojo for the real experience, “dont be so impatient bunny, you're a good girl right? look at you.. cumming for me.”

“so messy..” he pushes up your leaking cum back inside you before pulling you up on the couch, his slim hands pulling down his pants with a satisfied yet hungry grin. “did so good for me baby, time for the main course. gonna reward you.”

nanami was getting on edge, as he watched you on his lap, moving. your hips slowly rolling, you knew what you were doing and nanami was getting annoyed of it, how could he not? he was working, but nanami was nice enough to cockwarm you, muttering. “you're always so needy when i'm working.”

you couldn't resist the temptation to stop the little cockwarming to roll your hips, he wouldn't mind, or so you thought. but.. its not your fault, it was his long sleeved buttoned up shirt that made you so needy, the sleeves were rolled up to expose his muscular arms, the veins that became visible whenever he typed, god.. nanami is such a huge temptation.

“stop that princess. thought i made it clear that i'll only let you sit on my cock, not ride, hm?” nanami said sternly, a hand snaking up your moving hips to stop them. you whine out an apology, that you really didn't mean to.. it was just, too hard to resist. i mean it was already inside, why not move a little, you thought.

it was nice to tease him a little too.

his warning wasn't enough to stop your need, and after a few minutes you rolled your hips again, feeling the tip of his shaft poke against that particular spot inside you, making you shudder and gasp with pleasure. nanami raises an eyebrow, letting go of the keyboard to snake his hands up your hips again.

you let yourself indulge for a moment till you felt a sharp thrust, catching you offguard. “fine, i'll give you what you want.” the blonde cooed, slamming a few thrusts into you that made you moan.

“don't blame me when your legs hurt tonight, okay?”

501 notes · View notes

theshitpostcalligrapher · 10 months

Text

Pinned FAQ

How do I request a card?

You can request up to 3 cards for free during openaskbox events! During those, the /ask inbox opens up for a few hours, during which I try to write as many as I can live on twitch and post them on tumblr.

After the event is over and I close that inbox, there are still a BUNCH of leftover requests. This is how I fill the daily content queue, I use those up til it's empty again and then run another openaskbox.

On Sundays at 3pm EST I write all 28 cards due to go up for the week from that pool of leftover asks live on twitch and then queue them to go up after stream

What if I don't wanna wait?

If you'd like to throw a bit of cash around instead of waiting, you can buy via the etsy listing or you can tune in to those^ Saturday livestreams, there's a variety of ways to donate to get cards written for you on the spot

How do I buy the card I've requested?

The etsy listing is available here! Please remember to include in the notes of the purchase which card(s) you want to buy. If you'd like me to bundle together all the cards you've requested over a period of a few years, dm me here on the blog and I can quote you on a cheaper bundle price

Why did you answer all those asks, it messed up my dash?

Sorry about that! So to keep all of that ^ organized, at the end of the month, I answer about 112-140 leftover asks in order to record them to a proper "to-write document"

It helps me keep organized, it allows me to easily search for spelling issues, and it gets a few eyeballs on the request in case someone tries to slip an obscure slur into their request that I'm not cool with writing (it has happened)

Lots of the regulars are used to this dash nonsense, but there are folks who want to avoid it entirely. If you're on mobile I'd just recommend unfollowing for a while, but if you're on desktop, you can blacklist the tag "added to notepad" and go to xkit to tick the "fully hide blocked tags" option so it clears up your dash

Wait I thought requests were closed, why can I still send things?

That's because requests use /ask, but /submit is always open because it's for YOUR calligraphy, pet photos, fanart of man... etc. Requests are NOT open when it's not openaskbox day but feel free to send me cool shit YOU made anytime

Wait you have a twitch, do you do anything other than calligraphy?

I try! my schedule at work (restaurant) varies week to week so I try my best to stream whenever I've got free time to, nothing's really planned out though

What are your regular writing tools and paper?

I mainly just use speedball nibs, specifically the c-series (c-0 through c-4) because they're angled flat nibs that let me do most blackletter hands I write. I have a supply of leonardt thin tips for detailing and illustrating

As for paper, the cards you see on the daily are on plain index cue cards I buy from staples. When commissioned/doing larger pieces, I work with a variety of paper, including a 32 lb xerox paper that has juuuust a perfect amount of lamination that avoids ink feathering, black paper that I bought a hundred sheets of in 2019 and I no longer remember the label, and a BOATLOAD of southworth's ivory parchment paper at both 32 and 64 lb weights.

#FAQ #reference

445 notes · View notes

moondirti · 1 year

Text

tender / and what’s left

Joel is a man of blunt lines and frayed edges, and though he seems especially bronze at this time of day, you know you can't touch him to feel the sun.

But you’re not looking for warmth.

pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader rating: explicit (mdni) word count: 4.3k summary: what gentle has come to mean warnings: smut, canon typical violence, angst, mild gore, mentions of death, very little plot, blowjobs, fingering, joel is not nice - not necessarily. tumblr please don't tag my shit notes: yeah... yeah. i don't know how i feel about this one. i tried something different with the style. that is, i cut down on the purple prose, so let me know what y'all think about that. also, can you tell i struggled with joel's characterisation? idk, it's a mess. but anyway - enjoy!

You’ll never get used to the smell.

Granted, the contrary was a lie you told yourself once things had gone to shit. A painkiller – your harsh reality sliced into digestible portions and force fed through a dry gullet. Mother earth will reclaim what spoils – like putrid carnage buried behind a thick cover of dirt, perfuming crisp air. That nature, prosperous again, would wind itself around humanity’s faults and embellish your end with a lush green.

And maybe it will, one day.

But it takes a while for bodies to burn. You’ve come to accept that’s all you have to look forward to in your lifetime. So, you focus on the scent of sulphur-doused charcoal and try to ignore how flesh sizzles when you throw another corpse into the flame.

Once the weight is offloaded, you trek back over the beaten path to the truck, your fingers tense with the frigid wind. A storm had come screeching through last night, mewling its sombre song while spewing out a flurry of ice onto the decaying buildings of the QZ. The sterility had lasted all of about an hour before the powdery white turned sludge and jaundice-yellow stains popped back up along the streets.

The only salvageable thing about winter, tainted with piss.

Huffing to yourself, you curl your hands to dissuade the frost gnawing on your knuckles and square your shoulders for the next haul. A quick scan of the cargo hold tells you you’re nearly done. There must have been ten or so infected cadavers when the unit had been dropped off – piled atop one another, heads wrapped in bags and arms still bound behind their backs. Joel had divided the work between the two of you – sectioning the heavier builds off for himself – and you’d made quick work disposing of the majority before the stink of death could cling to your blouse.

As for him–

He brushes up behind you, stunted to a slower pace, carrying a body twice his size. You tune in to his laboured breaths, the grunts he makes with each step, muffled behind the bandana he wears as a mask. In your peripheral, you think you spot it slipping – slicked with the sweat that shines down the curve of his nose. His hair is much the same; speckled grey, glistening with sebum and a gruelling day's work.

(You recall what it feels like, clutched in your tight grip. You like pulling at it, borderline violently, whenever you can. Whenever he lets you–)

You stop yourself. The tangent has a viscous momentum you’re all too familiar with. Reeling it in, you tuck it near your gut before it can get away from you. Instead, you choose to single in on the way his back rolls when he throws the weight into the pit – the penultimate corpse. Then, back to the task at hand. The trailer stands empty now, save for the last; a smaller frame, curled in on itself, clad in embroidered jeans and a dirty, purple sweater.

He kept the child for you.

What’s left of one, anyway.

Two seconds pass. You crouch to tie your shoelaces.

(You got them for free – traded off a FEDRA agent with a dependance on oxy. You don’t think you’ll get as lucky with gloves. Winter clothes run like cigarettes here – the theft of your last pair indicative of that fact.)

When you stand back up, the body is still there.

The chain to the trailer latch is tangled. You decide to undo it before you move.

It won’t disappear.

Just deal with it.

It might be the cold, or the sore patch on your palm, singed from hovering too close to the flame. Food poisoning, credit to poorly cooked rat jerky, or the flu. You tell yourself it’s anything apart from what it is. You know he’s staring – can feel the laden look, sparking the frayed nerves along your shoulder. Just deal with it; the sentiment swimming in dark eyes. Deal with it; his rough voice nails into you.

It’s not a kid. Not anymore. Not since a network of fungal threads wiggled their way into the gummy recesses of its brain.

(But its skin is soft. Not one scar on those delicate hands.)

You let your gaze slide across the courtyard. His presence tips the scales of your consciousness, crushing with its force, and you find his brow quicker than you can blink away the wariness in your expression. He’s leaned up against a wall, twisting a spare rag over his fingers. His dry study is indecipherable.

Your jaw clicks.

He steps the slightest bit forward.

With a sharp tug on the body’s ankles, you deflect his intervention and position it so that you can easily heave it onto your bent arms. It’s heavier than you thought it’d be. That, or, it’s the rigour mortis, its joints stiffened to intractable peaks.

Keep your back straight and use your knees.

(Joel taught you how to lift anything. He said it’d come in handy, one day. You still can’t tell what he’s preparing you for.)

When you flip the child into the fire, the bag flies off its head. Its hair is the same shade as yours.

He takes double your shift.

You were a florist, before, operating right outside Boston. It’s easy to forget what it was like: cramped in that two hundred square foot shop, up to your elbows in thorns as humidified air pooled beneath your pits. There’s the vague picture of a book, fatter than your forearm, always propped open on the register counter. Floriography, a guide to the Victorian language, with watercolour illustrations and an empty page dedicated to your scrawled notes on customer orders.

And, there is the memory that accompanies it.

An infatuated friend – no, assignment partner – in your mycology requirement. He’d gifted it to you on your birthday and you’d given a complaisant smile back before going back to the video your professor put on. It didn’t interest you at the time. You were a botany student, desperately clinging to the last shred of your sanity before the end of term, and you did not care about the outdated science of some epidemiologist in 1968.

Perhaps you should’ve.

But–

You remember the flowers.

Post-grad. You’d bring them in from wholesalers in Columbia. Dahlias and daisies by the dozen – thriving boscages, nursed in minerals, tepid water. It was a blend of powdered femininity, a reification of the artificial scent you’d practically bathe in as a kid. Soil a pillow for nectar and dew, their roots still branched in the nourishing mix. And it was marginally obsessive, the way you’d drink all of it in. Like divine ambrosia, hung in a drunken stupor of all-natural proportions.

In the mornings, you’d separate their petals with a gentle hand. You felt as though you could sit forever in that quaintness. It did not feel like a job.

Joel takes double your shift, because you cannot wait to get away from shit-clogged sewers.

He comes back disgruntled, just as the afternoon sinks below the horizon.

The room soaks in an orange tint, a deluge of evening light spilling in from outside. Scotch whiskey burns a trail down your throat, irritatingly concentrated, and you wonder where he got it from. Not many drinks nowadays pool as deep in your belly, are warm enough to strike your inhibitions. You blink, tipsy – malt and smoke clustered on your tongue – and can’t help but smack your lips, the taste reminiscent of the musk you lick from in between his legs.

He comes up behind you, pulling the bottle from your cradle before you can take another swig. You’d set a dirty tumbler out for him too, lipstains smudged against the annealed glass. He pours two fingers worth, then sits back with a weary sigh. It rumbles from somewhere in his chest, hampered with the deep baritone of his own voice.

You don’t speak. Neither does he.

This is what life consists of. Busy work and silence.

Anything is better than clicking.

You observe him in your free time.

It’s not often you’re granted the luxury of running your fingers down his face. You have, once, after coming home much too late to see him knocked out, practically blitzed on hydro. You’d discovered his skin – that it matched the way it looks; rough, sun-worn like old leather. It folds up along his forehead, between his brows, etched in a permanent look of exasperation. He’s marked in wrinkles you don’t think will ever go away.

(You’d tried smoothing them out. It was a stupidly sentimental action, founded on the sudden spout of emotion that plagued you that night. You had just been beaten an inch from your life, and wanted to find comfort in the fact that – if anything – he was peacefully at rest. But he looked tired, even in his sleep.)

His eyes are far away, too. His lips, pursed. The way his hair twists on his head suggests that it’d been curly, once upon a time – flipping like waves crashing towards an isolated island. Uncoordinated. Devastating. And his beard is all but an extension of that brutality – patchy and abrasive, particularly when it smooths along your thigh. He’s ruinously handsome; weathered and dry and dark and so, so goddamn handsome.

Joel is a man of blunt lines and frayed edges, and though he seems especially bronzed at this time of day, you can’t touch him to feel the sun.

But you’re not looking for warmth.

You slide off the chair, onto your knees.

You’ve been around long enough for him to sense what’s coming. His shoulders slouch, slack posture buttressed against the back of his chair, and the movement allows his legs to spread, just so you can slot between two beefy thighs. They ripple with restrained strength when you run your hands along them, muscle apparent even under the cover of his jeans.

“You’re tense.” You remark, slowly ironing closer to the bulge at his crotch.

“Long day.” He responds with a torn exhale.

The unfurling of his zipper puts an end to the short conversation. You ruck his pants to his pelvis, then scoop his cock out from behind his boxers. It’s semi-hard, heavy in your clutch, pulsing as though it aches. You slip to the base – nested in a bush of wild, auburn hair – and tug it until he swells to become velvet-covered iron. He thickens, brims with arousal, head darkening to the colour of a day-old bruise.

It’s when it’s like this–

When you’re on your knees, or back, or stomach, his flesh smelting your insides like you’re metal over brimstone. Your lips wrap around him – stretching taut at cracked corners, your tongue rolling over his frenulum. You will yourself to sink further, to let him touch your tonsils and the enveloping heat there. Your breath hot, your mouth even hotter – sweltering, you suck him in, coating his length with a film of saliva, which aids you when you pull back up. Still, he’s too big for you to fully take, so you wrap what you can’t reach and twist it in tandem to your bobbing head.

Spittle pools at your lip, globbing out to splatter on his boxers. You can’t control the gags his girth elicit. It doesn’t matter. His large hand cups your temple, guiding you lower. You hollow your cheeks to accommodate the bludgeoning rhythm of his cock, choking on the smell of sweat and denim. He’s heady, potent with brine. Blurring heat corners your eyes, tears cropping at the sheer indulgence of it all. You don’t know whether he notices as they slip down your cheeks, whether he goes harder because of them.

It’s in these perennial moments, pearlescent prespend seeping down his shaft – a beautiful compliment to his skin – where you’re simultaneously selfish and selfless in a world that is kind to neither. That he feels more alive than ever. Pumping, pounding, like the fibrous sinew of a still-beating heart.

He’s not gentle as he takes. You don’t discourage it.

(You believe he’s forgotten how to be. There’s a certain severance you have to make to survive; a detachment from humanity. You don’t doubt he was a good man, once. You hear it in his cadence, that southern twinge that speaks to days of gentleman-like civility past. It’s excusable. You understand. You can’t complain of the strain he puts on your throat. You too have lost your touch.

But it cannot reduce the red on your ledgers. Gore binds the very books together.)

Cum covers your palette when he spurts his end – a hot, febrile concoction; the ocean lapping up on a beached log, like sand in every crevice. He holds your head down until you swallow, knees spasming against hardwood floors.

You splutter for air when you finally draw away, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Joel shifts forward, picking an unknown material off the table above your head. You can’t discern what it is – not until he brings it down to your chin.

Your washcloth. Threadbare and thinning still.

He doesn’t let you speak as he helps you clean the evidence of his sin.

Lilies for restored innocence. Carnations for pure love.

You cycle through your mental index of funeral arrangements as carmine ichor spills from your front.

The operation hadn’t gone according to plan.

Joel said it’d be a quick pillage of a newly empty warehouse; an apparent treasure trove for supplies, left abandoned after a firefly attack drove FEDRA security off its perimeters. Lined wall to wall in crates of salvaged items; he’d heard wind of it through a contact in the agency – some son of a bitch by the name of Liam, trying to pay off a withstanding debt. Easy gains, he’d smiled, you can take your pick of the loot.

The knife lodged in your gut begs to differ.

(You posit another smuggling ring got dealt the same deal. They had come in behind you. Jumped fast, fought dirty – took all the ammo and cigarettes they could carry and left you for dead. Naturally.)

Where the fuck is he?

Vignette shadows edge your vision, throwing everything off kilter. You can hardly process every aspect at once: the pulsing wound, the surge of blood. Nausea encroaches on the site, convulsing in around the jagged blade, cramming your intestines for space. It blazes a fiery path up to your lungs, where your breaths escape in short, shallow increments. Oxygen dwindles. You’d skipped breakfast. Still, you heave as fluorescent lights blink in and out of existence above you.

The concrete floor is unforgiving.

Gladioli, perhaps. For someone who’s proven their strength. Tears glue your lashes shut, and you imagine being buried out in a field of their long stems. Swathed in peach, pink, babydoll colours untainted by grime. You wonder if Joel knows a place.

(You never asked for his favourite flower.)

The stab festers, broiling over with an impassioned heat. It must be hell overturning your system, bubbling up in pus, swaying you from making your peace. All those lives you took. The thorns you’d clipped. Your head is lifted onto a twitching lap. It’s soaked in carnage and smells like him.

Thank god. Felt like it was gonna explode.

“B-Bout– nghn, time.” You cough. You’re able to discern his silhouette through the fog, cloudburst heavy on your lids. It’s sticky, disorienting.

“Hey. Hey, stay with me now. We’ll get t-this fixed. We’ll get this fixed, okay?” He chokes, wrestling with a roll of something. “I gotta take the knife out, baby. It’ll hurt. It–”

“It–It’s okay.”

“No, no. Up, open your eyes, c’mon.”

You were hired to supply a wedding with its finery, back when you first opened shop. It was the gig that promised to put you on the map, insisted upon by a childhood friend who had the money to blow on imports from Holland. You’d spent days fine tuning the arrangements – fussing with leaves, waxing petals, trimming roots. Your cuticles were red, raw by the end.

The next week, all the flowers had wilted. The paraffin you used was the wrong type.

Joel’s voice cracks like a spoiled floret. You burn at the knowledge that it’s your fault.

He doesn’t give you the option to grieve it, twisting the blade out of your abdomen. You lurch forward, thrashing with a warbled scream. Borderline animalistic, the pain tears through you with harrowing intensity.

His hand smooths your hair back in the meanwhile, brushing across your sweaty forehead, winding between the tresses. You shudder under a wave of hypoxia and come to a sobering revelation.

It feels nice.

Something shifts.

He was quiet before. A man of very few words; upon your first meeting – a partnered smuggle run, arranged via Tess – you recall tallying the hours until he spoke. It hit three, prior to your suggestion of something so bewilderingly stupid he just had to pitch in his discontent. You’d smirked it off. It hadn’t been personal.

(Possibly the one insight that allowed you to continue working with him.)

But since your close call, he’s funnelled down to occupy a fraction of his previous presence. You suspect it has everything to do with how you bled out in his arms.

He leaves and returns during your small bouts of restless sleep. You don’t hear from him, or see of him – aside from the rare occurrences when your days intersect; when he comes back, tarnished and tired, to crash on the couch before his next job. You would haul him to bed if you could, yet your gut throbs in barely-healed rage with every exertive move. So, you spend your limited time with him as you’ve grown used to doing – watching.

His nightmares have gotten worse.

You used to experience them in pyretic transitions, suspended in a state of hypnagogia, your consciousness bleary and flickering like old film set ablaze. You’d feel his tremors, could hear his whispered pleads filter in on your own dreams. But they existed as secondary – something to be acknowledged in that post-apocalyptic, apathetic way. I get ‘em too, bud. He never mentioned them, so you wouldn’t ask.

To see him unravel is another thing entirely.

Like corduroy twill being picked apart at the seams. A material made to be durable, to tough out years of erosion. He quivers, forearms contracting over his chest, his brows creasing. Something about Sarah as his hands rub together, clawing at his palms.

You wind your limbs around your middle. It’s frightening, you realise. You’ve come to know this man in the snarled face of adversity – he’s never so much as stuttered, carved in resilient rock. But it had to have come from somewhere, and if not vomit, if not viscera, if not fungi–

Whatever it is that torments him, you pour a glass of water and wait for him to wake.

He doesn’t look at you when he does. You don’t blame him; you’re practically pellucid, yellowing undertones an effect of the lesion that marks your stomach. The only thing you’d gotten out of the warehouse were medical supplies in abundance. You credit only them with your continued survival.

“I’m going back.” Joel says, tapping his index on the glass. You blink, nonplussed at the sudden noise. You recover in half the time, though, and open your mouth to protest. “We left some valuable shit behind.” He interrupts.

“You can’t go alone.”

“You’re staying behind.”

“I’m fine,” You start, then wince with the movement.

He stares at you, incredulous. The silence punctuates his point.

“Tess has a few men holding it down. It should be simple.” And with how he grits it, the words hissed through clenched teeth, it’s evident he means it as an end to the discussion. But doubt maturates, wheezing in the way punctured lungs do, sore under the pierce of cracked ribs. Tension swells from the afflicted site. You can’t control the disillusion in your tone.

“That’s what you said last time.”

Nothing erupts.

Not how you expected it to, anyway. It takes a moment for the blame to meet him, to find its honest meaning. In that time, it hangs between you, echoing, precariously balanced on seething eye contact. Then, his gaze flickers down to your abdomen.

“I’m not the idiot who almost got herself killed.”

It carries all the malice you wished for, and more.

(Whatever tenderness he had left must have bled out with you on that floor.)

He doesn’t die. But then again, that wasn’t what you were concerned about.

Joel makes his first appearance three days later. The return is sporadic, and divided upon many, each time with a small bag of supplies he stuffs underneath the floorboard. The sacking was successful, then–

(He throws a bottle of antibiotics onto the kitchen counter, his jerking shoulder a rough indication that it’s meant for your injury. But when his face catches the light, you’re thrown with the inkling that he might need them more than you.)

–though, nothing is without its faults.

Eggplant purple and violent red blend in a mottled contusion across his cheekbone, painted down to his neck – beyond his collar – hidden to your wandering gape. You’re no stranger to bruises; the world collapsed in on humanity a good twelve years ago, and burst capillaries have become a constant under the macerating weight. Yet it’s another layer stripped, a sheet of titanium snatched off the manifold complexity that is him. You’d never seen the evidence of his pain so clearly illustrated atop his skin.

“Joel–”

“Leave it.” He snaps.

You bite the inside of your cheek, pushing yourself up to sit by the sink. It’s futile to beckon him over, so you wait his pacing out by dousing a rag in leftover alcohol.

“Was there anything even left?” You accuse. He unzips a duffel bag atop the dining room table, ruffling through a layer of bandaids.

“Yes. The rations’ll last us two months, if we sell to the right people.”

“Thrilling.”

Your sarcasm lingers until he finally finds what he’s looking for, pulling out a jar of ground coffee from behind a box of detachable blades. When he walks over to fetch a mug, you grab him by the wrist and wrench him closer.

(You wouldn’t have been able to, had he not let you. You know his strength trumps yours.)

When you touch the makeshift wipe to his face, he doesn’t so much as flinch.

“What did this?” The question stretches, losing its structural integrity under your elemental concern. This is all novel territory – you don’t make a habit of licking another’s wounds clean. But his desperate pleas hold possession over you; the restrained distress, the wavering timbre. Stay with me now. We’ll get this fixed.

“Gun.”

Your hand falters over his jaw.

“Butt end.” He adds. “FEDRA was on the scene.”

“Right. Do I even have to say it?” You whisper. ‘Told you so’ titters on the tip of your tongue.

“No.” He concedes.

The two of you sit like that for a long while after, locked in a begrudging dance that pulls you off your feet. Winter has nearly melted to its end, now; the howling gale tapering to a draft that crawls beneath window sills. Somehow still, it penetrates you, even colder than before.

(Joel crackles like a fed furnace, biting at the firm coals of your desire. You unconsciously veer closer, wiggling your hips until your legs cage his. He holds you in place with one large hand, the other gliding beneath the hem of your jeans.)

“You’re hurt–”

“So are you.” He settles. His fingers press up against the plush of your cunt, finding that electric centre. It’s debilitating, overstimulating and likewise, not enough; a defibrillator to your core, one that cannot revive you.

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, finding purchase in his broad build. It does nothing dampen the needy moan you make when he pushes your panties to the side, toying with your swollen folds. He spots you, clenching around nothing, soaking the calloused pads of his thumb. It takes place on your clit, then, index and middle inching towards your hole to plug you full.

“Needy fucking thing.” He groans, shoving his tongue down your maw. It’s not a kiss. Far from it. He doesn’t try to match the pace of your gaping surrendering, preferring to devour you instead. You pant up into his mouth, gyrating with the back and forth of his pumping digits.

He claws out in you your tender-most spots.

(But that’s just it, isn’t it?

He might not be gentle, in the worn definition of the word. The touch that peels petals, reverent, finding delicacy in the finest bits of creation; gold leaf and concentrated fragrance. What you spent so long holding onto – the beauty that’s become obsolete in a post-fungal land.

But you cannot kid yourself.

He’s raw, uninhibited. You’ve seen it – that supplantation of humanity, a measure to rise above the monsters that hunt you. A sore bundle of mortality and death, left unhealed, yet just as capable of flaring when you reach out towards it.

Like stepping up when you buckle under the horror of your own reality. Wiping your chin of filth. Shaking with you, fading out on his lap, his best efforts centred in on your mutilated centre. The nightmares that plague him, seeking out whatever weakness lies dormant.

If you had to choose, you’d say he favours sunflowers.)

“Joel,” You whine, sinking your face in his neck.

“That’s it… C’mon, baby. Cum for me.”

That night, he pulls something out of his bag, tucking it in your pocket as he joins you in bed.

“Hm?” Murmuring, you reach to wrap your hand around his. The fabric in his grasp is thick, knitted.

Gloves.

“Noticed you’ve been cold.”

permanent taglist: @yeyinde @saintbedelia @tusk89 @cactuswaterscactusfields @lexloon @nqberries @kkinky @ravenhood2792 @s-u-t @glassgullss @eternallyvenus @thoticious @brownstalebread @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @joy-the-reader @aerangi @shadesofnerdlygrace

join the taglist!

1K notes · View notes

just-some-guy-joust · 1 month

Text

Just Some Guy OC Tourney - Side A: Round 1

Rules:

do NOT be mean to anyone or any characters in these polls. you MUST clarify if you are joking/teasing or you will be blocked. if you are someone who entered an oc into this and you are mean to other contestants you will be disqualified

do NOT claim a character doesn't deserve to be here. yes including your own. be nice

if you are posting propaganda you have to tag us, including if your propaganda is in the reblogs. it is difficult to tell when something is or isn't propaganda. anything not tagging us will likely be missed

please don't hesitate to let me know if i messed something up!

have fun, hype each other up <3 thank you

Evergreen | She/her | @insertsona

shes just kind of chilling tbh . she's technically unemployed (didn't feel like it) and spends most of her time vibing . her ex recently returned to the city after randomly disappearing for years and she was just kind of oh hey glad youre back . her most interesting trait is that she takes part in a fighting tournament once a year and wins it usually . and shes transgender

Promos: evergreen is a character in my oc universe teunia! shes a side character in the main story the tourney and a slightly more main character in the unnamed prequel that i think abt very often (but have yet to develop . bc im too busy thinking abt my dr oc constantly)

teunia's folder -> https://toyhou.se/InsertSona/characters/folder:3849690

Zephyr Fey | He/him | @lord-plague

An averagely built guy who somehow managed to join the military force of his fortress city without a birth certificate, ID, and with dyed hair. Nobody knows where he came from, nobody knows why he is here but there he is. No magic or superhuman abilities or prodigal skills but my god does he make great goo bowls with greater personalities (nobody wants the goo bowls and he does not know why). That one friend that keeps trying to alleviate awkward situations with jokes and random laughter.

Full images and descriptions under the cut!

EVERGREEN IS LITERALLY SO JUST SOME GUY. despite being a repeat champion for the tourney she lives in a shitty studio apartment . she had a girlfriend that was also her rival and then they broke up and she was just oh ok! her hobbies include vibing, hanging out, etc. shes like those old guys you see watching planes take off or construction occur . nobody knows where she gets her money from . her ex's new partner is a friend of hers. she doesn't even bear any relevance to the first main plotline because she's too busy doing other stuff she just happens to also be in the city while the horrors occur . sometimes shell go to the local coffee shop and just not order anything . i wanna be her friend . i havent actually posted her on tumblr . shes so some guy that most of the facts abt her character i can think abt are so mundane i never even bothered to write them down

[no extra description provided]

#tournament poll #oc tournament #ocs #some guy joust #evergreen #zephyr fey

93 notes · View notes

viburnt · 4 months

Text

Leopard! Dabi Headcanons (Hybrid! AU)

Someone had requested this on my asks, but TUMBLR WAS A BITCH AND UPLOADED THE WRING THING. Anyhow, hoping this reaches that person. Please enjoy!

CONTENT WARNING: NSFW 🔞, mentions of breeding

• Leopards are opportunistic hunters, and they use their particular appearance to disguise themselves and surprise the prey they've targeted. Sounds a little familiar? Perhaps it is because it's something Dabi does. Touya Todoroki joined Shigaraki as Dabi, a false identity he created to take revenge on Endeavor; he didn't join Shigaraki because he supported his plans, but because he needed things he could provide like the resources and a team.

• Something very curious about this species is how they have variants according to the environment. We have grey/white snow leopards, yellow ones, and black ones too! It's befitting considering how Dabi's appearance has changed over the years: white-haired kid, black-haired villain. A snow leopard and a panther.

• Depending on when you meet him, you could either find deep black fur on his tail and ears, or you could still see his white fur. He also has a pair of large canines that you can see whenever he grins or when his anger is too much to handle.

• It is also a thing that leopards have super soft fur on their lower abdomen so... happy trail. Oh! Claws, by the way; my take on this is that Touya might've been declawed as a cub to avoid "hurting himself more" than he already did with his quirk.

• Leopards are also very active during most of the day, always on the lookout for prey. Leopard! Dabi is also plotting against heroes and his father most of the time. He's part of a very solitary species, not exactly forming bonds like other big cats such as lions. They get company, however, when it's time to mate.

• Leopard! Dabi is not the most talkative version of Dabi, he still is a cocky bastard, but he finds it hard to talk to you. So, naturally, when ruts happen, there's no verbal warning. Touya starts playing a little rough with you whenever he feels the need to breed you, pushing and pulling teasingly until he has you where he wants you: couch, bed, chairs, counters, floor...

• Touya often relies on body language to let you know you're his (even when he's not the most affectionate partner). He also has a thing for napping all over your clothes and messing with your stuff (say bye to your food, he'll leave the fridge empty).

• His go-to position is prone bone because of how similar it is to the leopard's mating technique. He bites your neck whenever he's buried deep inside your guts (cat things), groaning and growling whispered "Fucks!" And "Tight!". Regardless of if he can breed you or not, he always stays inside you for a few more moments to avoid his cum to drip out of you.

• His rut lasts around 2 or 3 days, and he can go as many times as he needs until he satiates the itch inside his body. If he somehow knocks you up, you'll have to put that cat on a leash or something, because no feline species stay with their cubs at all. Hates when people pulls his tail.

A wanton moan escapes your lips, feeling Touya sink his teeth into the tender flesh of your thighs. You can see him looking at your face from your angle, legs locked open as he meets your sensitive core with his tongue. "You told me to clean the mess... Don't look at me like that now." The man purrs, licking his lips with a teasing grin. "I'm gonna pull that tail of yours one day, see who's laughing- Oh, fuck!"

"Mhm, you're all talk now. But when I'm breeding you? You seem to be speechless." He murmurs, lapping you once more. "Dumb cat."

"Love you too."

Tagging: @trickster-kat @doumadono @shonen-brainrot @shionancientsblog @dabislittlemouse

#my hero academia #dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader

108 notes · View notes

archangeldyke-all · 21 days

Note

okay hopefully tumblr doesn’t eat this one 😣😣

can we plss get more details about plug!Sevika and reader meeting for the first time at a house party??

& can we pls have a cute moment of reader completing Sevika’s gap until she’s a blushing mess like in this post: https://www.tumblr.com/idyllicbby/747661932204572672/all-im-thinking-about-is-having-a-first-meetdate

yes absolutely!

here's a link to the post mentioned!

men and minors dni

you hate house parties.

especially this one.

the mysterious red liquid coming out of the coolers on the counters are so watered down it's like chugging warm juice, the music is awful, and your friends have all paired off with their partners-- dancing and making out in coupled bliss. you're miserable.

"fuck this." you grunt, pushing yourself off the wall and through the crowds of grinding bodies. you're going to find yourself a decent fucking drink-- not whatever this shit is.

the kitchen is sparsely populated and empty bottles litter the counters.

you start scouring the cabinets and fridge for liquor, and just when you're about to give up, your eyes catch on an unattended, half empty bottle of vodka behind a kissing couple.

you consider the predicament. the guy's got the girl sitting on the counter, pressed between her legs, his hands on her ass and the bottle bumping into the back of his hand. you'd have to get right up on them to reach your prize.

you really don't want to lose a limb to the couple.

you also really want a stronger drink.

you huff, stomp over to the other side of the kitchen, groan, then cringe as you flail your arm behind the couple to grab the bottle.

you get away easily, giggling as you clutch the bottle to your chest and start backing away from the pair. they dont seem to have noticed you, and just when you're sure you've gotten away with your thievery and you start pouring the vodka in your cup, your eyes catch on an amused, sparkling pair of silver irises.

you stiffen, your cup starts overflowing with vodka as you stand frozen, blinking at the woman across the room who seems to have been watching you this whole time.

she grins and raises an eyebrow at you.

you gulp, then smile bashfully, gesturing the bottle out toward her, offering her some. she bursts into laughter.

you find yourself by her side in a moments notice.

"can i top your drink off for you, miss?" you ask, giggling. the woman snorts.

"yes please." she thrusts her red solo cup between the two of you, and you pour a few shots worth of vodka into the juice. "'re these non-alcoholic for a reason or...?" she asks. you laugh.

"right!? how're you gonna throw a party and not even have drinks!" you giggle. she holds her cup out and you clink your plastic rim against hers before taking a sip.

it burns going down, this time.

"ah, much better." she sighs, leaning against the wall. "so, how do you know the shitty hosts?" she asks. you laugh, then shrug.

"i dunno 'em. my friend knows a guy who invited her-- she asked me to tag along." you say. "you?"

"'m just the plug." she says. you grin.

"oh, are you?" you ask. she huffs a laugh, then gestures to the fanny pack on her hip.

"can i interest you in a purchase?" she asks, unzipping the pack. you gasp.

ten minutes later, you and sevika have ditched the loud house party to sit on the back porch and share a joint as you sip on your drinks.

you've got the giggles. sevika's weed is strong, and the drink you poured yourself is strong, and sevika's pretty and she's only looking at you.

"what're you smiling at?" she asks, her own smile pulling up at her lips. you just shrug and pass her back the joint.

"you lookin' for new regular customers?" you ask. sevika chuckles, grins and nods, then takes a hit.

"i certianly am. you lookin' for a new plug?" she asks, exhaling. you don't really hear her question, though, because as she laughs and talks, your eyes catch on the gap in her front teeth. your stomach bursts into butterflies.

"you're so pretty." you whisper. sevika blinks at you. "y'r smile's so..." you trail off. sevika grins.

"really?" she chuckles. you nod, biting your own lip, wondering what it'd feel like if sevika sunk her sharp canines in your bottom lip. "you're high."

"you've got good shit. and a pretty smile." you say, nodding.

this time sevika's smile is more bashful. "what's your number?" she asks. you grin and pass her your phone, and she passes you the joint in exchange.

when she returns the phone, her contact name is '🍃 sevika 🫀'

you have to bite your lip to keep from squealing.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub @glass-apothecary

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

102 notes · View notes

chronicallyonline-fandomwh0r3 · 5 months

Text

Y'know... i love the dpxdc fandom a lot. I follow a lot of creators and love to see different viewpoints on this fandom.

BUT, that does not mean I will tolerate people being asses and/or bullies. YOU don't want to see this crossover? the fucking block tags/blogs button is RIGHT THERE.

Limiting peoples fun and want to write? FUCK YOU.

Limiting peoples creativity and crack filled bullshittery of posts? FUCK YOU.

THIS IS TUMBLR, ITS NOT MENT TO BE A SERIOUS SITE. WE LOVINGLY CALL IT THE HELL SITE FOR A REASON.

Now, anyone who sees this post will be wondering why I'm being a bitch and what brought this on.

WELL, I have been gone for a few days dealing with real life shit and when I come back, i find out that this @jedipirateking person keeps "fact checking" and "I don't like this for so and so" on a lot of my mutuals posts.

Now at first I didn't want to deal with it. I made one response and BLOCKED the person.

I come back AGAIN after being gone for a few more days to find this account being a total DOUCHEBAG about my post and several others concerning power scaling systems. (i had to unblock to figure out why so many people were having arguments in my replies and such, AND BOY WAS IT A MESS.)

Now usually I would love to have an in depth conversation with you concerning power systems.

BUT, that post? THAT my dude was a CRACK POST. it was meant to be fun and all bullshit. NOTHING SERIOUS!

AND saying CANON beats FANON always? DUDE, the whole phandom is crack bullshit and FANON. There is little CANON used in the DP Phandom at any given moment!

If you want to start your bullshit hating on people, GO TO FUCKING REDDIT. THIS IS TUMBLR, WE ARE CRINGEY AND FUCKING BULLSHITING ALL THE TIME.

STOP. YOU ARE NOT WELCOME OR NEEDED.

BLOCK US. BLOCK THE TAGS. I DON'T GIVE A FUCK, JUST LEAVE WRITERS AND CREATIVE PEOPLE BE FUCKING CREATIVE. EVEN IF ITS CRACKED UP BULLSHIT.

Now, yelling over. Reply to this post, comment, i dont give a flying fuck. I'll keep you unblocked to be able to see ur bullshit. BUT i encourage everyone in the DPxDC fandom to block this person and ignore them. Its obvious they want to hate on people becuase they themselves are full of hate and anger at something else.

I hope you figure out your life and bullshit dude. Really i do. Because right now your cowardly ass is fucking up everyone elses fun.

To my mutuals

I am so frustrated with this happening and being late to the party. Please just block this douchbag.

also @bonebrokebuddy i love the reply you gave me. Thank you for the conversation starter for power scaling and challenging stuff. im just tired of this guy shitting on everyones posts lately.

@stealingyourbones @bongo-clash @spacedace @britcision

#dp x dc #dc x dp #fandom discourse #angry people being angry #shut up dude.#go to reddit #use the block button #but shut the fuck up for real

128 notes · View notes

vesselsscarlet · 5 months

Text

FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS - The Love Vessel Needs Book Project

Alright, so @murderofcrow and I decided that a nice little FAQ is the key for answering your (possible) questions.

Let's go :)

• How can I submit my art/letter? Is there an address to ship it to?

Nope, there will not be an address. The answer to this will be: DIGITAL

Please scan your handwritten letter(s)/physical art; jpeg files can ruin the look when it is printed. In case you want to type something, you are allowed to do so. Send us a PDF file then (it makes things the easiest because of formatting the text, and it already the looks the way you wanted it to look like; same goes for digital artwork[s]).

For your submission(s) that Crow and I will receive, please write in the title your tumblr username and TLVN Book. For Vessel, you can write down your name/alias/tumblr username and the country where you are from.

Submissions can be handed in: Tumblr Direct Messages (Crow: murderiscrow, Lia: vesselsscarlet) or on Lia's Discord (Username: vesselsscarlet)

• I cannot write. I suck at it. Also, I am not artistic. What can I do?

Don't worry, we gotcha.

You don't have to be Shakespeare, Goethe, Schiller. You also don't have to be Monet, Van Gogh, or Picasso. It is all about conveying your message for him. In any way possible. You also don't have to worry about spelling mistakes, and messing up the tenses. We don't mind this. As long as Vessel can understand it in any way possible, you will be fine. This is you, this is your way of expressing your love.

• Is there a limit for the submissions? When is the deadline for submitting it/them?

Nope, no limit at all.:)

The deadline will be announced, as soon as we know more. But it will be 4 weeks before one certain live ritual which we will announce (follow the tag, so you will be updated).

• How can I make sure that I won't miss anything important?

Follow the tag. That is all we can say.

• Will the book be printed?

No. It is a physical one which we will craft and design with our pure hands. It will take some time because we are working from two different cities on it. But this will work.

• Will you share progress and the result?

Of course we will:)

You guys deserve to see our baby that you all have been a part of.

That is all for now. If you still have any questions, you can ask them in the ask tool. We will answer you asap.

Merry Christmas from the both of us.🎄✨️

#sleep token #sleep token band #vessel sleep token #sleep token vessel #thelovevesselneedsbook

97 notes · View notes

maochira · 9 months

Note

Sorry if this is too general but could i get some fluffy boyfriend hcs for barou please? I feel like there’s not enough works on him on tumblr your blog is like the only one that feeds me :(

I usually don't write general dating headcanons anymore because the five love language thingies I write summarize my thoughts on relationships with the characters (here's the Barou one) BUT because I have so many thoughts about him I'm making an exception <3

Requests open! - masterlist

Tags: gn!reader x Shouei Barou, established relationship, fluff

-Barou is very overprotective, but he never really gets jealous. He trusts you and knows no one else could ever have a chance with you because he's the best boyfriend you could ever have

-even though he's mean to everyone else, he softens up whenever he's alone with you. In comparison to how he treats others, he also treats you as gentle as he can since he wants to avoid accidentally hurting you because he's so strong

-he loves to carry you around!! His favourite way is bridal style

-as much as he loves you, he can't stand any mess you create. Either he'll ask to clean it up together or he does it entirely on his own

-every time you call him malewife (because he obviously is one) he acts as if it bothers him, but secretly he kind of likes it. He would never admit that, though

-one of the reasons why he loves you so much is because you don't irritate or annoy him as much as other people do. Even when you do something that would usually bother him, simply because it's you he suddenly doesn't mind anymore

-he wasn't a that big fan of cuddling in the beginning, but he always agreed to it to make you happy. Then is started growing on him and now he enjoys cuddling very much. He's usually the big spoon, but if you ask him he agrees to be the little spoon every now and then

Taglist (sign-up link): @kaineedstherapy12 @zyuuuu @luvcalico @remy-roll @truegoist @vanitasbrainrot @weichspuelertrinker @acacIa @kermitslefteyeball11 @futuristicxie @bluelock4life @https-archangel @userwithlotsoftime @slowlyholypeanut @isagikisser

#💟 maochira writes #blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x you #bllk headcanons #blue lock headcanons #shouei barou #barou shouei #barou x reader #barou x you #shouei barou x reader #shouei barou x you

162 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

my-funded-capital

Untitled

bipolarzuko

when you see me again, it won't be me

xo-cb-xo2

xo-cb-xo

rhianthialritak

Corey: Tadpoled Era

starlightthedaydreamer

StarlightTheDaydreamer