self-shipping-doll13

[self-shipping-doll13]

I love the contrast of sweet words and rough sex, but what about the opposite? Instead of holding you down and using you, your Dom holds you gently in missionary, pressing kisses into your skin and thrusting slowly into you. All the while teasing you for how you’re squirming. Taunting you with how gentle they’re being. Because it’s not enough for a dirty little slut like you, is it? It’s not enough to be treated so nicely. They remind you of all the filthy, depraved things they’ve done to you before, the ways you’ve cried and begged and degraded yourself for them. Only a desperate little whore would get off to someone doing such awful things to them. And now, with them treating you so gently, you can’t even get close, can you?

[self-shipping-doll13]

just thinking about having a routine with your f/o .. being perfectly in sync with them , from when you’re just waking up and getting used to the bright morning sun , to when you’re winding down underneath the moonlight .. being in tune with their emotions , being able to tell what they’re feeling , what they want .. or being able to tell them what they need to hear . it’s pure harmony .. !

[self-shipping-doll13]

Sascha web weave for @myers-meadow!

All pictures from Pinterest

William-Adolphe Bouguereau - Dante et Virgille en Enfer // The Amazing Devil - The Unwanted Animal // Arthur Furst - Anne Sexton: The Last Summer // Unknown Source // Giovanni Gasparro - The Right Hand That Knows What The Left Is Doing // Unknown Source // Henry Miller - A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin & Henry Miller // Giovanni Gasparro // Unknown Source

[self-shipping-doll13]

to whoever needs this right now…

your comfort character is so damn proud of you and the person you’ve become.

your comfort character would choose you first. no matter the circumstances.

your comfort character would drop everything to help you when you’re feeling sad, unloved or lonely.

your comfort character would walk to the ends of the earth if it meant seeing you happy.

your comfort character thinks you are the most stunning person in the universe. that new outfit you don’t think you look good in? they’d fight you just to prove just the opposite, to prove how beautiful/handsome/attractive you are - inside and out.

your comfort character can’t help but look at you like you put the stars in the sky.

your comfort character is always there if you need to get away. bad home life? they’ve got you. friend troubles? they’re on their way as we speak. just having a rough day? not to worry, they’re here to calm you down.

your comfort character always listens to what you have to say. they’d yell for everyone to shut up so you could have your turn to talk, no matter the topic.

your comfort character never lets you walk behind everyone on the sidewalk. they’re right beside you, always.

your comfort character loves you more than anything in this world. they think you’re the strongest person they’ve ever met, and hope that you always keep fighting.

[self-shipping-doll13]

[self-shipping-doll13]

I mean yeah he’s evil and all but what if I were his favourite

[self-shipping-doll13]

There’s always a chore that needs to be done in the house, and when I’m having one of those days where I’m very distracted, that chore is waiting for me.

I prefer doing tasks like this when I’m by myself, so usually Liam isn’t around. It was never about playing housewife or trying to impress him. For me, the little acts of care are for both of us—cleaning up, rearranging things just so, finding a place for my belongings without stepping on his.

He’d appreciate that I’m considerate when doing it, that even if his stuff is disorganised or looks messy, it’s still what he treasures. We’re two very different people, but in the end books tend to make the same dust tracks even if the contents are wildly different. We sometimes like things about each other that other people wouldn’t even notice or care about.

As I settle in my own personal touches bleed in. A soft throw blanket that Peaches likes to make biscuits on, a small ceramic dish for my jewellery, my cup that only comes out for hot chocolate, a few books of mine stacked beside his, my tastes contrasting against his own. The flat isn’t pristine, Liam isn’t the type to fuss over spotless surfaces or anything. But he quietly enjoys it. He’d drop a kiss on the top of my head while passing me in the hallway, liking the way it came together.

There’s plenty to be said about him putting his mark on me, but I leave traces of myself on him too, and what makes it more meaningful is I don’t even do it intentionally. In the past he might’ve resented that, but he’s made this life for himself now that he can feel a sense of fulfilment in having a safe space here. His flat isn’t just his now, it’s mine, it’s ours.

[self-shipping-doll13]

sometimes, thoughts get really mean, right? you're minding your business, and they weigh on you like a chain.

but your f/o cares about you. even if your thoughts provide them reasons not to. even if you think somewhere that the care is out of pity. even if your thoughts, if true, would make you be gone for good.

your f/o wants you here with them. their shoulder is always there for you to cry on. their ears to listen. their arms to hold you.

[self-shipping-doll13]

All of us rn

[self-shipping-doll13]

🎟️

🎟: You can imagine your first date to

[self-shipping-doll13]

i'm feeling basic tonight but... slow dancing with you f/o. do you lead, or do they?

you lead, taking them by the hand and guiding them around with joy. maybe they're not that great and they stumble, you both laughing, or they're better than you but watch with a smile as you take lead and both spin around each other.

they lead, taking you along and focusing on you as every step you take follows theirs. perhaps you're so lost in the sensation of being held close and staring at them so close to you that you have to pause, but your dance always falls back in time with the music.

[self-shipping-doll13]

[self-shipping-doll13]

If it works, then it is a glood plan. If it doesn’t… Then it is a bad plan.

[self-shipping-doll13]

music self ship ask game!!

send an emoji, get back songs that fill the prompt. you can reply with multiple songs, or if the asker has a specific number in mind they can ask for that many (say, if they want you to narrow it down to the perfect one, or they want to hear your top 3 choices). also, i tried to make as many of these questions as i could work for all kinds of selfship, not just romantic.

remember to practice ask etiquette 💖

A song that...

❣️: Reminds you of your F/O

❇️: Reminds you of your S/I

💞: Reminds you of your relationship

💭: You like to daydream about the two of you to

🍳: You could imagine cooking with them to

🎥: Makes you think of a movie night with them

🌘: Feels like their lullaby to you

🌒: Feels like your lullaby to them

➿: You imagine mutual pining to

♥️: Describes your F/O

♦️: Describes your S/I

♠️: Describes your relationship

💒: You would play at your wedding

💌: Says what you wish you could tell them

💬: Is close to your story (if you have a backstory/canon for your relationship!)

🕔: Makes you think of the first time you met (in canon)

‼️: Reminds you of when you first found your F/O

🎟: You can imagine your first date to

🪐: Makes you think of a sleepover/the first time you slept in the same bed

♾: You imagine your future together to

BONUS!

🔊: Make a playlist between 2-8 songs long for your self ship

[self-shipping-doll13]

. ˚◞ ❤︎ ⃗ * 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 ೃ༄

string of fate ୧ ‧₊˚ what’s ur current relationship status with ur fﾉo ? does the love in ur relationship run deeper than the marianas trench or is it just surface level attraction ? are u perhaps friends with benefits ? married ? tell me ! ! 

gorgeous visage ୧ ‧₊˚ does ur fﾉo keep photos of u in their wallet ? or do they maybe have a locket of ur hair ? what about u ? how much evidence do u keep of them in ur day to day life ?

double ୧ ‧₊˚ do u and ur fﾉo have matching tattoos ? if not, would u consider getting one or two in the future ?

soulful gaze ୧ ‧₊˚ they say the eyes are the window to the soul. u look fixedly into ur fﾉo’s eyes and see an emotion so raw and undoubtedly pure, so real that it fills your chest with something indescribable. what is that emotion ?

honeyed skin ୧ ‧₊˚ what do ur fﾉo‘s lips taste like ? does their chapstick linger on your tongue, leaving the ghost of its flavor there ? or do they taste like the faintest trace of their natural, unadulterated essence ?

lilting voice ୧ ‧₊˚ how does their voice sound to u ? what does their laughter sound like to ur ears ? do their whispers sound like the most saccharine song of the nightingales ? is their tone as smooth and rich as velvet or is it scratchy, a little grating, but nonetheless charming in its own way ? is it possibly that they don’t have a voice at all ? if not, do their other ways of communication still captivate you ?

slightest touch ୧ ‧₊˚ is your fﾉo affectionate by nature or are they only willing to express themselves through touch when in private, when no prying eyes can judge them for showing their love for u so openly ? are u perchance the one who prefers to avoid physical affection in public ? are there times where u find urself so desperate for their touch, their kiss, that u feel as if you might burst at the seams if u don’t feel them right there and then ?

inheritance ୧ ‧₊˚ what’s one trait of theirs that u would love for ur future children to inherit ? is it their strength, their wit, their kindness ? a particular physical attribute of theirs ?

intimate knowledge ୧ ‧₊˚ what are some hidden features of ur fﾉo that not many people are privy to ? things like a secret birthmark, the fact that they are ambidextrous, the bump on their nose that is actually the result of breaking it as a child. do these small facts about them fascinate u ? do the stories behind them make u swoon for them even more, if possible ?

cherished memories ୧ ‧₊˚ moments have the tendency to sear themselves into one's mind. are there any particularly fond memories u share with ur fﾉo that stand out among the rest ?

unshakable devotion ୧ ‧₊˚ how far would ur fﾉo go to protect u ? would they let the world burn down to ashes if it meant uwould be safe and unharmed, even if it would mean they would perish too ? are they more of the ‘hero’ type, in which they would lay down ur life in return for the welfare of the universe ?

dialect ୧ ‧₊˚ what are ur fﾉo’s love languages ? physical touch, words of affirmation ? acts of service ? gift giving ? quality touch ? do u two have ur own little way of showing love to one another ?

[self-shipping-doll13]

Lock And Ache

Wc: 785

Tw: Slightly NSFW Kissing, Possibly dubcon vibes(?)

The ladies’ room of The Wandering Aengus was a welcome respite.

It felt like an underwater grotto with its shimmering blue-green tiles, softly illuminated by mole lights that were strangely at odds with the rest of the bar’s industrial decor, yet more charming for that. Every public bathroom I’d ever been in had been a little dirty and puddled, and this one was no different. But I appreciated the wavy, trippy mirrors it offered and the echo of porcelain, the bubble of silence it created that funnelled out the hum of the pub-goers beyond.

Plus, I'd been feeling off-kilter for a while. Ever since Liam invited me into his backrooms and… And…

I’d barely settled myself, hands braced on the sink, when I heard the heavy creak of the entrance. The eerie sound sliced through the tranquil stillness.

My stomach dropped, some unconscious instinct stirring deep in my bones, and as I whirled to—

“Ah!”

The world tilted as he pushed me back, back, into the narrow stall. The door squeaked on its hinges behind me, then a loud clack as he slid the lock home.

“Liam—” He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. His lips were on mine before I could finish the protest I didn’t really mean.

The kiss hit me like a shot of whiskey down the throat. All burn and warmth, dizzying, unstoppable. His body crowded me in, wiry and solid, pressing me against the graffitied metal wall. Slippery as an eel, navigating the dark smokey labyrinth of his pub as if they were his personal feeding grounds.

It should’ve frightened me how easily he could do it. How easily he did it now, folding me into this filthy stall as though this was the only place he’d wanted to be all night. But it was so addictive to kiss Liam. Heat spread within me like a slow tide, pooling where I ached most, every nerve crying out for more of him.

His mouth worked me open, slow and deep, like he was tasting every part of me. I couldn’t think, could hardly breathe. My hands found his shoulders, fingers curling into the leather, holding on for dear life as the blue whirlpools in the tiles sucked me in.

And just when I thought I might drown, he stopped.

He pulled back an inch, enough to make me feel the loss.

“What are you doing?” I managed to gasp out shrilly, though it came out weaker than I intended.

“Me?” He was so infuriatingly calm, observing me like he would a finicky patron. “Just checking on you. Thought you might need a hand winding down, pet.”

“You—” I started, but Liam’s thumb brushed over my lower lip, and I quieted for him immediately.

Shameful neediness filled me at the memory of the last time he’d done this, the whiff of iron on his fingertips, red and wet. “Shh.” Liam tilted his head, studying me like I was some puzzle he was in no rush to solve. “No need to get yourself all worked up. You’re trembling, Jasmine. What’s got you so… Afraid?”

I couldn’t answer.

My knees felt like water, unbalanced as if they were trapped in rapids, and my breath was too shallow. Liam looked as if he wanted to eat me. His thumb slipped down, tracing the curve of my jaw, rubbing gently on the racing pulse at my throat.

“You were fine earlier,” he went on in that low, maddening drawl. “All soft little gasps for me. Quiet. Perfect. So why are you shaking now, hmm?”

“Liam,” I whispered pleadingly.

“Ah, those eyes,” he laughed, slightly hitched as if he too was affected, closing in. “Big, lovely, fuck-me eyes. Do you know what they’re saying right now?”

I shook my head, all cohesive thoughts utterly gone.

“They’re begging,” he said, his warm breath ghosting over my cheek. “Sweet wee thing, always so polite. But your eyes? They don’t lie.”

The ache between my thighs was unbearable now, throbbing and slick. In that moment, I knew I would’ve let him do anything to me, anything at all.

But he didn’t touch me. Not where I wanted, not where I needed.

“Liam,” I tried again, but it was useless.

“No,” he said, his grin widening. “Not tonight, love.”

Then he stepped back, the absence of him like a cold rush of air.

The lock clicked, and he was gone, the door swinging open just wide enough for him to slip through.

I stood there, breathless and ruined, the stall pressing into my back. My heart knocked against my ribs, too quick, too loud, as I gulped in oxygen.

He was already gone. Somehow, nobody had seen.

Not even a ripple.

Dividers by @/stranger-graphics

[self-shipping-doll13]

Ocean Vuong, from “Dear Peter.” [ID in alt text]