#(yes I know)

[insaneartist-fanart]

Pretty excited for what's to come with the Hellaverse!

[by-gray]

[ruinix]

Quinn with the 'when I say sit on my face, i don't mean hover.'

Lovely anon, do you know how downbad I am? No? Well, I am. Also, are you in my Instagram algorithm??? That phrase kept showing up even if I say ‘not interested’ (I am but you know, I’m trying not to be the whore that I am). Anyway, it’s maybe a bit cringe…I swear I tried...Sorry in advance…😭🧎🏻‍♀️

Perfectly Divine

TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Implied Unprotected Sex (use protection, silly), Oral (fem receiving), Face-sitting, Cum eating… 👀

Count: 1106 words | Masterlist

You’re not listening to him. Why are you not listening? Is what he said so hard to understand? Quinn is seriously stunned—utterly flabbergasted—when you try to get out of the bed.

“Quinn, get off me!” You grumble, trying to slip out of his hold, but Quinn is still stronger than you. “This is holding me against my will! Kidnapping! Hostage taking!”

Quinn bursts out laughing. Fuck, you’re so silly sometimes. It’s never a dull moment with you, even when you are suddenly on a different wavelength. No, not even, especially. Quinn holds you closer, hand resting over your middle, pulling you closer against his chest.

Soon, your laughter follows—a beautiful mix of giggles and chuckles. Your sound makes him warm all over. When you crane your head so your lips graze his cheek, your hand  entwining with his, the other holding his jaw, Quinn almost forgets why he was holding you in the first place. You trickster.

“You’re distracting me,” he growls softly in your ear. Your little squeak makes him chuckle as he nips at your nape, your shoulders, your jaw. “You can’t get out of this.”

“Quinn,” you whine, “we just had sex. I’m sensitive! Plus I’ve already sat on your face earlier.”

“Sat,” he scoffs. “Sure.”

“Is that attitude?” You twist around so quickly, beautiful eyes narrowing, lips pouting, hair still very much disheveled from your earlier rounds, your nail scratching over his chest. “Don’t scoff at me, Quintin.”

Quintin. His first name. Fuck, it sounds so good.

Quinn sighs, pulling you closer, hooking your thigh over his hip. “Sorry.”

You both groan when his cock graze your pussy lips. Quinn’s member rousing. Yours quivering, leaking with your arousal and his cum. Oh, right. He filled you up so good, didn’t he? Quinn presses against your pussy, feels your entrance pulse, sees your hooded eyes.

“Again? I’m tired,” you whine, protesting but it’s you who reaches his cock to press it against your hole. “I’m so full, Q.”

Are you? You’ve already wasted a lot of his cum. Already so spent for the day. Quinn knows that. He fucking knows that. Despite wanting to pound into you, to fuck you until the next morning—and the through the whole day—he needs to hold back.

That’s why he fucking needs you to sit on his face. Right now.

“Then why is your pussy begging for more?” Quinn asks, eyes hooded, watching every shuddering breaths that escapes your lips. “But I know. You’re busy tomo—”

“Quinn, shut up.” You grab his cheeks and kiss him so sloppily. “I’m so sore, Quinny,” you whine when his tip teases your entrance.

You keep protesting, but it’s you who pushes your hips, chasing after his dick, seeking more and more.

“Sit on my face, my love.” Quinn whispers. His words echo in his ears. Does it with yours? Does his voice rattle your soul as much as yours with his?

“But…” You still hesitate.

You’re rarely hesitant. But when you are, you are. Like he will be turned off by you. Like he will care about your filled up pussy. Like he will suddenly be disgusted with you when he could very much lick the ground you walk on, kiss the pebbles of sweat on your body. Oh, he got you. Silly girl. Just breathe and you already have him hard and begging for a fuck.

“Trust me,” Quinn pleads, pressing his forehead against yours. His nose touches yours. He can see the little fear in your eyes, the doubt, before it dissipates into lust. “There we go.”

He gives you a small peck on your blushing cheek. “And, my Love, when I say sit on my face, I don’t mean hover.”

The wanton moan that escapes your lips is Quinn’s last straw. He could just fuck you. It would be too easy. Just one thrust and he’ll be inside your pussy. Just one kiss and he’ll have you begging for it—sore or not. But he doesn’t. Not when you finally agree.

Quinn helps you over him. His hands glide and grip your skin. He can feel your shivers and trembles as you kneel over his face, legs beautifully parted for him to see your flushed pussy, too used and fucked.

“Quinn,” you whimper, hands planting on the headboard.

He mutters your name like a prayer and when you lower your pussy to his face, he knows his Goddess—you—answered.

He gives your clit a small kiss, tongue flatting over your trembling slit. The way you squeal and say it made his heart flutter faster and faster in his chest. You taste divine. His cum combines with yours. Salty, musky, and somehow sweet.

This is what he fucking wants. He needed—still needs—this for so long. To be able to savor what he has done to you. To know how perfect your pussy would be with his fucking cum that he has never dared to taste before.

Fuck.

Oh, his love of his life. So perfect, so delectable, so fucking divine.

He's so happy that you’re not hovering. So happy that you finally listened. So happy that you’re grinding your pussy against his lips, using his nose to your clit, letting him hear every moan, groan, and whimper that escapes you. So happy to feel your weight on him.

He grips your thighs securing to him as he slips his tongue in your pussy, tasting more of you and him.

More.

Quinn thinks he should have done this earlier. Should have filled you with more cum and not let you argue and waste a single droplet. Should have feasted on you, stained and dirtied by him. Fuck. He needs more.

For every gulp and lick, your pussy tightens around his tongue, squeezing out his cum and your addicting arousal. Quinn can feel your thighs quiver, your pathetic attempt to escape him.

Oh, you can’t.

He won’t have it.

 He needs you to come. He needs to feel you rob him of air as he does when he wrapped his fingers round your neck as he fucked into you.

He needs this.

Fuck. He’s so hard.

Maybe he can convince you for another round—rounds—of him buried deep in your pussy. Maybe he can persuade you not to attend the appointments you got tomorrow. Maybe he can just fuck you, clean you with his tongue, then fuck you again. Again. And fucking again.

Because this is not enough.

God, he’s so selfish. So fucking selfish.

He needs more and more of everything you can give him. His life is yours. Forever.

[jakewag]

davekat silly stuff

[pharawee]

Ohm Pawat Chittsawangdee & Leng Thanaphon U-sinsap —ONLY FRIENDS: DREAM ON · Coming Soon

[luckiandkryii]

No, I'm still not over it

[sweetietwist]

why couldn’t Gale have fallen in the sewer with the mutts instead of Finnick???

[dc-spoiler-alert]

Steph this week! 29Jan2025

- DC's Lex and the City (cameo)

[zuppizup]

Haunted by Kosmo’s warning about darkness and corruption overwhelming Callum if he ever does dark magic again. (And he’ll definitely do dark magic again)

[ofteacupsandclocks]

I love how anytime Hannibal think he is any sort of dangerous situation/in danger of being discovered his hand just goes straight for his scalpel.

It’s just so endlessly funny to me for no reason.

On a more serious note I think it goes to show how fighting, how killing is truly instinct to him. When a predator is in danger it does not look to flee it bares its fangs. And these small scenes remind us that he is a predator. He is a monster And no matter how charming and appealing his person suit may be, we shouldn’t forget underneath it he is still a monster.

These details are just another way the series shows us that to him killing a person is not a moral issue at all. And when he chooses not to use his scalpel it is simply a matter of practicality, not out of pity or regard for life.

[glazedsnail]

Look, I have limits to my obsession prone behaviour...

I know it doesn't look it, BUT as far as addiction goes this one's the healthiest I've had 👀

Besides, this is @speltfields Shane we're talking about. Have you seen him? HAVE YOU? 🥵

I love it so much I even keep the doodles from the post 🥹

I'm perfectly normal about a 3 pixel depressed man from a 10 year old farming simulator video game, haha, hahaha, HAHAHAH

Darn it I forgot to include the one I keep in my phone case.....for reasons.... It's under the cut so that this post is less of a testament deep dive on why my brain is this gone.

And may I remind you that this exact one is the drawing that sparked the idea for this:

So. You blame Speltfields, not me.............👀

[yennao]

First pass at a Remy. The hold this rat has on my heart rn I cannot express.

[doggojin]

[canisalbus]

Feel free to ignore this if it doesn't spark your interest but worth a shot. Can I ask what breed of dog Jesus was in your dog world?

I think dog Jesus predates most of today's dog breeds. Realistically he'd probably be some kind of mutt, probably with vaguely Canaan dog looks. But European depictions of Jesus have always been very localized, and I tend to think that in Medieval, Renaissance and Baroque art he'd usually appear as a Spaniel of sorts, although it varies from piece to piece. Gun dogs more often than not.

[avidenthusiastoftomfoolery]

On a completely different note from my previous post I wanted to see more anthropomorphic ren and remembered I knew how to do that

@enderwoah had said something about dressing him up in kingly jewels like technoblade and I ran with it <3