#bomb bf

[storfulsten]

Now im curious.. Could we see bombhead!bf x bomb whitty? Just a couple of explodey boys being cute?

some bombs ye ok

explodey fellas I guess

[capquinn]

Quinny thought that popped into my head and now I can’t stop thinking about it!!

Taking a bath with Quinn would be so intimate and relaxing especially after a long day. Back pressed against his chest and he’s lazily running his fingers up and down your arm, your hands resting on his thighs. Just enjoying the quiet and peaceful moment together. Nearing the boundaries of something more with occasional grabs or touches but just loving the feeling of having each other’s touch on them

Oh.....my God. The seeds you have planted in my mind, sweet nonny.....

Taking a bath together absolutely feels like the kind of thing that happens after an especially long or frustrating day — one of those evenings when you both need to just be together without the noise of the outside world. He’d suggest it so casually, like it wasn’t a big deal, but you’d catch the softness in his eyes when he says, “c’mon, let’s just relax for a bit.”

The water is always the perfect temperature, warm and soothing, and he’s thought of everything — candles because the bathroom light is far too bright, a soft playlist in the background, even a towel folded neatly nearby because Quinn’s nothing if not prepared. You’d climb in first, settling into the heat with a small sigh, and then he’d follow, his movements unhurried, deliberate, as he eased himself in behind you. The second his arms come around you, his chest against your back, it’s like the world outside doesn’t exist anymore.

He’d keep it simple at first — his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your arm, the occasional hum of acknowledgment when you talk about your day. He doesn’t say much, not because he’s disinterested, but because he’s just so content to listen, to let you fill the space with your voice. Sometimes he’d press a kiss to your shoulder, soft and lingering, like he’s quietly reminding you he’s there, that he loves you.

“Feel better?” he’d murmur at some point, his lips brushing against your ear as his fingers dip lower, idly skimming across your forearm. And when you nod, sinking further into him, he’d chuckle softly, the vibration of it a low hum against your back.

But then, as the minutes stretch on, the touches would change — still tender, still Quinn, but with an edge of something more. His hand would slide along the curve of your hip, his thumb brushing over your skin in a way that makes you shiver despite the heat. Your fingers would shift too, resting more firmly on his thighs, squeezing lightly every now and then, like you’re both testing the waters without saying a word.

“You’re trouble,” he’d whisper eventually, a teasing lilt in his voice as you lean your head back against his shoulder to meet his gaze. His eyes would crinkle at the corners, that soft, lopsided grin tugging at his lips as his fingers dip just a little lower, skimming across your stomach.

“Me?” you’d tease right back, though your voice would come out softer, breathier, because every touch feels like it’s unraveling you just a little more.

And that’s the beauty of it, isn’t it? The way you can toe the line of something more, letting the intimacy build at its own pace, or just let the moment stay quiet and comforting. Either way, being in his arms, his touch steady and grounding, is all you need.

[mitisss]

one of the funniest things about the fnf update is the darnell remix because these absolute strangers (one of them being paid to kill the other, mind you!) are having the most chill encounter with the most relaxed song in the expansion

Meanwhile, in the same song, one of those whores was just three melodies away from doing

with his years long bestie

[mysticfemme]

okay but I think personally the cutest thing is seeing a masc holding what is very clearly their girlfriend's bag and just absolutely rocking this silly little bag contrasted against their tough looking outfit

[larvabyte]

my bf and i sometimes talk about a crack au where cyrus has court mandated therapy and spends his days playing truck simulator

[anonymouscheeses]

Favorite rarepair ever. Like ever. Excluding chaggily but idk if that counts since it's actually pretty big for a poly ship 😭 but anyway. I got this idea from a acc I follow on TikTok. And omfg they have STOLEN my heart. I hope ppl love them jst as much as I do bcuz LAWD I'm in love

They kiss. Like all thr time

I love being an artist 🤭

U cannot tell me that snake doesn't have ASSSS

Sad how Husk's hair was SNATCHED when he sold his soul to Alastor. Gave it back! 😍

Also Charlie being a supportive wingwoman lmao

I didnt know how much I would love the freaking hat. It's so fun to draw no wonder Viv added it to the design even if it's such a distraction for me when watching the show.

[turboemmy]

well....

[adelarsims]

can't recommend this pack by @woosteru enough. if you missed it, go get it. oh, and also this pack with amazing clothes that you already saw my wolfie wearing.

look at these tops on him! look how cool he is!! aaaaaaa!!!

(he probably wandered into the shop at the mall and bought these because he saw them through the glass and they looked cool, but he didn't realize it was band themed shop and now all bts fans think he's their kindred spirit)

[longeth-dayv]

woa so cool

[mixtapedoh]

literally ran to your inbox when i saw your writing event post. may i request hoshi with autumn by niki because i like pain and can not get this song out of head for days now

omg, a fellow niki lover <3333 jen, you always have had such wonderful taste. i love the way her songs allow me to bleed.

ᴅɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴇᴀɴ ꜰʀᴇᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴍᴇ?

☄. *. ⋆

pairing: kwon soonyoung x reader (not endgame) genre: angst, break-up word count: ~1k warnings: heartbreak, death imagery (don't we love angst and more angst and a dash of even more crushing angst?), barely there plot but fuck it, we ball.

olive's notes: a very interesting exercise for me! tbh, as a niki fan, i love to cast her songs as potential fic ideas, and when i hear autumn, my gut reaction is woozi, so to think about hoshi instead was a welcome challenge. hopefully i did it justice <3.

Read

You stare at those four letters, that single word, the broken sentence fragment not even deserving of punctuation until the blue light of your phone burns the impression of it into your retina in a persistence that lasts longer than your last conversation with him, just days before.

Read.

Not even four letters he had deigned to type out — some semblance of a response to your longing that you'd attempted to sever with a knife that, rusted through, meant you had to saw at that place where you deemed your attachment thinnest over and over: a back and forth motion, a seasickened sort of nausea that left you emptier than perhaps the hacking would have resulted in, had the cut been clean. But no; to all that you had spilled before him in your text (written and rewritten, drafted and thrown out, wept over, then created anew), all he could offer you — all he would give you, now — was silence. A read receipt. All your feelings still spilling out of you, pooling in shallow oceans, sales tax. Your anger, change. A transaction in the deficit. A run-up tab, a thousand I-owe-you's coalescing in just four letters, not even the ellipses of thought.

Read.

But did he?

When you fell for Hoshi all those months ago, it certainly hadn't been for his careful trepidation, or some thoughtful penchant for contemplation. It was for the lack of it, really. The way he so effortlessly swept you up — took your wary hands, and with a smile that seemed to embody the whole of him, coaxed the laughter out of you, and then following, the vulnerable, sticky truth. He liked it — liked you — he always pressed for more.

And so you'd give, and he would take. Then he'd offer, and you'd come closer to receive. Close enough to memorize the lines in his face, intimate enough to carve the worst of you into his bones.

And then work came between you, as it was wont to do. You were seeing each other in secret, of course (could you imagine what they'd say, if all the world knew?), but then people grew suspicious, an accounting of his every move including too many reports of you. So space was needed, but Soonyoung was apologetic, and you were hopeful you'd pull through.

"I love you," you'd whisper in the late night phone calls when he'd still be in his sweats and running choreography that was perfect as is.

(It wasn't right, he'd always claim. And he'd do it again and again, critiquing it over and over. Sharper. More focused. Harder. More precise. Another replay of the same, small moment. A circle that he could never claim was finished, an ideal he could never move past. It would be perfect. It had to be right. It wasn't enough if it were half-performed, it would never signify.)

"You love me?" he'd laughing, reply. Joking self deprecation, it had began, then a spiral towards something doubtful and unsure. A while yet and it began to hollow and turn cold.

"You love me?" he'd once said. "Not if I love you more."

And what if he'd stopped all together? A train crash or a too-long sustained whimper, it's silence a death.

Could you love him still, if this feeling is just aching? Could you love him if your phone calls were never picked up and only once, returned? Could you love him if you begged to hear from him and he'd go for weeks at a time without giving you a word? Could you love him if — at midnight — you texted him that it felt as though with each passing day he was loving you less, and every moment your breath was hitched in anticipation waiting for him to come home an agony of only half-living and drowning in your own insecurities and sorrow.

Could you love him if you sent it, and waited all that early morning for his reply, only for him to read it 4 hours later and not even reply?

"I'm so lucky I met you," Soonyoung had once said to you, with flowers in his hands, a bouquet of bleeding colors, a display near blinding when you looked at it head on. The assortment was so fresh, their fragrance assaulted your every sense, and the reminder of him lingered long after he was gone.

The aroma was gone, now. The savor expired, the petals wilted and sagged. You were perhaps due another fresh delivery, and maybe he'd bring it to you — every new batch of flowers less ceremonious than the last, with fewer words of endearment, rarely an explanation for all he'd done in between the death of the old set, and the replacement with something new.

Excuses rarely beget the same of their kind, and thinness only ever tried to be better, still.

. . .

He was typing.

Maybe that read receipt was still burned into your retinas. Maybe despite this offer of something, you were through.

☄. *. ⋆

blog home

[otsmosis]

My 3 favs~

[soulzerofever]

WIP for today!! working on recreating my all-time favorite scene in sherlock! (just for practice :”) )

[a-namjoon-a-day]

boyfriend! Joon pls??? 👉🥺👈

If only tumblr would have let me include every photo I have of Joon 😂😂😂

[dexterityemma]

they’re doing the Barbie/Oppenheimer double feature

[hellworm-art]

One Wing !!

[feyd-meowtha]

Oh no, mota gave me world war(s) brain worms....