#iDK

[chunkysoup22]

[unrelatedsideblog]

Period </3

[poomaster2000]

[ohsleepie]

I didnt make a Valentines post this year but this is close enough. Better late than never.

[mirrored-muse]

Hi! Can you do something where the yellowjackets want a day to relax but shauna is shauna 💀

But they notice how she is always trying to be close to reader and is soft on her and all of that, so they beg reader to go and seduce shauna

Reader is like: NO SHES SCARY AND HATES ME

But it happens anyways

Imagine van making sure everything is going fine with the plan by listening outside of shaunas hut 😭

ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴇᴀᴍ | ꜱ.ꜱ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 959

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪꜱᴛʀᴀᴄᴛ ꜱʜᴀᴜɴᴀ ᴛᴏ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴏᴜᴘ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴇ.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ꜱʜᴀᴜɴᴀ ꜱʜɪᴘᴍᴀɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴀ/ɴ: ʜɪ, ᴛʏꜱᴍ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛɪɴɢ. ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱʜᴀᴜɴᴀ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ꜱᴇɴᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ꜱʜᴀᴜɴᴀ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ. 🙏🙏 ᴀʟꜱᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ꜰᴀʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛᴏ ɢᴏ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴋɪɴᴅᴀ ᴛʀᴀɪʟᴇᴅ ᴏꜰꜰ ᴛᴏᴡᴀʀᴅꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ɪɴᴛᴏ ɪᴛ. 😭 ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ, ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ, ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ. <3

Shauna’s on edge again.

You feel it before she even says a word, like a storm rolling in from the trees. Her footsteps are too fast, her voice too clipped, the way she glares at everyone like they’re one breath away from pissing her off. You’re by the fire with Van, Tai, and Mari, trying to enjoy a rare moment of peace, but the tension in the air is thick enough to cut.

“She’s pacing again,” Tai mutters, glancing over her shoulder.

“Maybe she’s just bored,” you offer, not really believing it.

Van snorts. “She’s not bored. She’s stewing.”

“About what?” Mari asks. “We haven’t done anything.”

“Exactly,” Van says. “We’re not doing anything. She hates that.”

You follow their gaze to where Shauna is stalking past the tree line, arms crossed, jaw clenched. She’s been like that all day, snapping at Akilah for burning part of the squirrel meat and muttering to herself when Lottie suggested a group meditation session.

“She’s gonna lose it,” Van says under her breath, eyeing you. “Unless someone distracts her.”

Mari raises a brow. “You volunteering?”

“Hell no.”

Then everyone else turns to look at you.

You blink. “What?”

Tai smirks. “She listens to you.”

“She doesn’t listen. She just… isn’t as mean to me.”

“Exactly,” Van says. “You have the magic touch.”

You shake your head. “Nope. Not doing it.”

“Oh, come on,” Mari says. “Just go in there and flirt a little. She chills out. We get a break.”

“Do you hear yourselves?” you say. “You want me to go flirt with Oshauna bin Laden.”

Van laughs and leans in, shaking her head, “She likes you.”

You freeze, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Come on. You haven’t noticed?” Tai says, kicking a stick into the fire. “She follows you around like a guard dog.”

“She’s always watching you,” Van adds. “And not in the ‘I hate you’ way. In the ‘I’m obsessed with you and I don’t know how to process human emotions’ way.”

Your mouth goes dry. You glance toward Shauna again, now crouched near her hut, sharpening a knife like it personally offended her.

“She’s scary,” you say.

“Yeah,” Van agrees. “But maybe she’d be less scary if she got, you know… a little attention.”

You narrow your eyes. “Are you seriously trying to pimp me out right now?”

“We’re asking you to flirt with a girl who you already know wants you,” Mari says. “Not take a bullet.”

You sigh, rubbing your hands over your face. “Fine. But if she guts me, I’m haunting all of you.”

Van grins and gives you a thumbs-up. “That’s the spirit.”

⸻

You approach her hut slowly like she might lunge at you if you move too fast. Shauna doesn’t look up when you duck past the flap of hide covering the entrance of her hut. She’s crouched over something, knives or bones or both. Her hair’s a little tangled, her brow furrowed in that way that makes her look even more pissed off than she probably is.

You clear your throat. “Hey.”

She glances up, then back down. “What?”

Okay. Off to a great start.

You shift awkwardly. “Just, uh… checking in.”

Shauna snorts. “You sound like Lottie.”

You smile nervously. “That bad, huh?”

She finally looks at you. Really looks. Her eyes soften a fraction.

“What do you want?” she asks, slightly less hostile this time.

You inch closer, trying to sell the whole flirty angle, though it feels like walking a tightrope with a bear below you.

“I don’t know. Everyone’s been a little stir-crazy. Thought maybe you could use some company.”

Shauna stares at you like she’s trying to figure out if you’re making fun of her.

“I’m fine,” she says. “They should stop acting like this is summer camp.”

“You ever think maybe you’re wound a little too tight?”

Her eyes narrow. “Is that why you’re here? They send you in to fix me?”

You’re busted.

You scramble. “No- well, kind of. But also… I don’t know. I just wanted to see you.”

Shauna blinks.

You take a risk and step closer, sitting down across from her. She doesn’t move, just watches you with that unreadable expression.

“I don’t think you need to be “fixed”,” you say quietly.

She raises an eyebrow. “You sure? ‘Cause you look pretty scared right now.”

You bite your lip. “I’m not scared. Just… cautious. You’re intense.”

Shauna leans forward slightly. “You want me to back off?”

“No,” you say, heart pounding. “I want you to stop acting like you don’t care.”

Silence fills the air for a moment.

Shauna’s jaw clenches. Then slowly, she sets the knife down beside her.

“I don’t care about them,” she says. “But you? I don’t know what to do with you.”

You meet her eyes, a small smile on your lips. “You could try kissing me?”

For half a second, she doesn’t move, just stares at you. Then she does, fast, rough, and hungry. Her hand tangles in your shirt, pulling you in, and her mouth crashes against yours like she’s been holding back for weeks. It’s not soft. It’s not gentle.

It’s desperate.

You kiss her back just as hard, fisting the front of her shirt, tugging her closer until you’re both on your knees, pressed against each other.

Outside, leaves crunch. Someone stumbles back from the hut.

You inwardly groan, knowing it’s Van.

You pull back, breathless. Shauna’s eyes are blown wide, her cheeks flushed.

She doesn’t say anything, just tilts her head toward the flap of hide in the doorway.

“Someone’s listening,” she mutters.

You smile. “Should’ve known they’d send a chaperone.”

Shauna smirks. Then she slides her hands under your shirt, gripping your bare hip firmly. Possessive.

“Let her listen.”

[msuic-lovr]

MY FIRST REBLOG!!! EVER!!! FINALLY FOUND IT....

anyways reading dune rn :D

If you see this you’re legally obligated to reblog and tag with the book you’re currently reading

[cupidsworstcrime]

Knight!John Price x Princess!reader

inspo - honestly shameless , i wanted this

werewolf smut werewolf smut

contains chasing to fuck , monster fucking , cnc (if you squint) & knotting

The moonlight slashes through the dense treeline like a blade, silver and cold and watching.

Sir John Price, noble knight captain and sworn protector of your kingdom’s bloodline, stumbles against a tree, his breathing ragged, uneven. His armored gauntlet splits against bark as claws push through, twisting bone and sinew. His growl isn’t human anymore.

You shouldn't be watching.

But gods, you are.

“My lady,” he rasps, voice strangled and wet with the growl curling in his throat. “Run.”

You don’t. Can’t. Your eyes are locked on the way his jaw cracks open, lengthening, sharpening, his teeth catching the moonlight. His armor creaks and groans under the pressure of his expanding body, the beast beneath the steel.

He snarls, turning away from you, fangs bared to the forest, to anything that might distract him from the scent of you.

“I said run,” he growls again, lower this time, desperate, trembling. “I won’t be able to stop. If you stay—if I catch your scent again—I’ll take you.”

There’s a flash in his eyes. Hunger.

Your heart slams in your chest. You take a step back.

His ears twitch.

“I need you to run,” he groans, clawed hand gripping his chest, as though he could anchor the man inside a body that’s no longer his. “Please, princess. You need to run.”

You whisper his name.

His eyes snap to you. Glowing. Predatory. Wicked.

Another heartbeat, and you’re sprinting through the trees.

Behind you, metal crashes to the ground, followed by a guttural howl that shatters the stillness. The kind of sound that promises teeth on your throat and hands gripping your hips.

You don’t dare look back.

Because if he catches you—

—no knight in the world could save you from what he’s about to become.

And he will catch you.

Of course he will.

You're fast—gods, you're fast—but you're not him. Not with your skirts bunched in your fists, breath burning your throat, heart thundering like war drums in your chest.

The woods blur, and still you run.

But you feel it when he gets close.

The heat of him. The thudding weight of paws behind you, impossibly silent for how large he must be now. The low growl that slips into the wind and curls around your spine like a hand.

And then—

You're gone from the ground.

A cry tears from your throat as you're swept off your feet, tackled into the moss with shocking gentleness for something that had sounded like a monster moments ago. You're caged beneath him—bigger now, broader, his skin half-shifted, half-wolf, glowing eyes staring down at you as his claws press into the earth on either side of your head.

He pants above you, chest heaving, sweat and fur and musk curling thick in the air. Drool drips from his snarl onto your cheek.

"You should've run faster," he growls, voice rougher now, lined with hunger, with need.

"Y-you caught me..." you whisper, breathless, trembling beneath the weight of him.

He leans down, nuzzles his nose to your throat, a low, rumbling growl vibrating through your skin.

"You wanted me to."

And gods help you—

—you did.

There's no pretending anymore—not for him.

Not with the way he snarls low against your throat, like he's trying to taste your pulse before he even sinks his teeth in. Not with the way his claws dig into the dirt, holding himself back by a thread, trembling from the effort. He's not even fully shifted—can't be, not with how badly he wants to feel you with his hands, not paws. Not with how badly he wants your skin on his, not fur.

He’s not gentle. Not after all that. Not after the chase.

He ruts against you, desperate, grinding hard through the layers between you, shuddering when you squirm—when you press your hands against his chest, not to push him away, but to pull him closer.

"Tell me no," he growls, but his hips say something else entirely—rolling down slow, then slamming forward hard enough to make you gasp.

You whimper something—maybe “stop,” maybe “don’t,”—but your legs are already spreading, traitorous, trembling, welcoming.

Your nails bite into his arms. You turn your face like you don't want this—but your body arches into him, not away.

"Don't lie to me," he snarls, voice shaking with the strain of holding back. His fangs are bared, but his mouth is at your ear, and you whimper when his breath hits your skin. "You're mine, princess. Say it."

You don't. Not with words. But your hips tilt, just enough, just right.

He growls like something unholy.

You love this. Even when you act like you don’t. Even when you cry and whine and call him a monster.

Because you're the one who's still clinging to him.

You're the one who's dripping before he even claims you.

He’s got you flat beneath him, skirts shoved up around your waist, your thighs trembling against his sides. His hands are huge, rough from years of sword and steel, and now they’re claiming every inch of you like you’re a battlefield he owns. One stays planted on your hip, the other cradling your jaw, thumb dragging over your lip like he's daring you to bite.

"You're gonna scream for me, sweet thing," he mutters, voice rough and ragged, half-man, half-creature. "Not because you're scared—because you're mine."

He starts slow, grinding against your slick heat through your ruined underthings, just to feel the tremble, the way your breath catches. Then he pulls away—and spits in his hand, like a brute, slicking himself up before dragging the head of his cock along your folds.

Not pushing in. Not yet. Just teasing.

“You’re gonna remember this, princess. Every. Fuckin'. Inch.”

And when he does finally sink into you?

He’s ruthless. Long, hard thrusts that force breathy gasps out of your throat. No soft kisses. No gentle words. Just the slap of skin, the growl in his chest, and the slick wet sounds of him fucking you like he was meant to.

He uses one hand to pin both your wrists above your head, the other sliding down between your thighs—finding your clit with practiced fingers.

And when he hits just the right spot, when you squirm and cry out and your walls clench tight around him, he leans down, growling into your mouth:

“There she is. There’s my good girl. Scream for your captain.”

And god, you do. You scream his name like it’s the only thing you know.

Which, by the time he’s done with you, it just might be.

"What would the king think? Seeing his little princess be such a whore?"

He’s not asking—he’s taking, like his body’s driven by instinct and the only thing it wants is you.

His hands are everywhere—gripping your hips tight enough to bruise, dragging you down onto his cock with a growl that rumbles through his chest. You’ll feel him for days, the deep ache between your legs, the ghost of his fingerprints on your skin. When you cry out, he smirks, and his hand slides up your throat, thumb pressed gently beneath your jaw, just enough pressure to remind you who’s in control.

“Look at you,” he rasps, hips snapping into yours so hard that you swore the earth would split beneath you. “Takin’ it so well. So desperate for your captain’s cock, aren’t you?”

You nod, gasping, but it’s not enough for him.

“Say it. Say you want me to ruin you.”

And when you do—when you whimper out that you want him to break you—he fucks you for real. One hand on your throat, the other gripping your thigh and pressing your knees back, folding you open for him.

“You’re mine,” he snarls into your ear. “Say it again. Say it while I breed you full.”

And you do, because how can you not? When he’s buried so deep, when every thrust punches the air from your lungs, when your entire body is his—yeah, it’s rough, claiming, filthy. And you love it. Even if you act like you don’t. Even if you cry a little. Even if you’re already begging him not to stop.

He doesn’t just want to make you scream, sweetheart. He wants to make you remember.

When it happens—when the last shred of control slips and the shift fully takes him—it’s violent. Bones crack, skin tears, fur bursts across his body like wildfire. His snarl becomes a growl, low and guttural, vibrating through your chest as you lay beneath him. His eyes glow gold now, no trace of the man you once knew… but gods, he’s still inside there. Still watching you. Still wanting you.

And he doesn’t stop.

He’s bigger now. Stronger. His claws scrape the ground on either side of your head, holding himself over you, caging you in like prey. His muzzle brushes your throat, and you feel the heat of his breath, the tension in his jaw as he fights not to bite—not yet. Not until he’s claimed you properly.

His thrusts are deeper, more forceful, hips snapping into you with inhuman power. You cry out, nails digging into whatever part of him you can reach, but he just growls in approval. The slick, obscene sounds of him inside you echo louder now, more primal, more filthy. Every motion screams mine.

“You should’ve run faster,” he huffs, voice distorted and monstrous but still his. “Would’ve probably gotten away.”

But he doesn’t regret that you didn’t. Not one bit.

Because now? He can knot you. Fill you. Mark you inside and out until there’s no question who you belong to.

And when you sob his name—when your body breaks open for him again and again—he howls, the sound shaking the trees, the sky, you.

You're his. Forever now. And he’s going to make damn sure everyone knows it.

At first, you think he’s done. His pace slows, almost tender for a fleeting second as he pants above you, still trembling with the aftershock of the shift. But then—then—you feel it. That slow, thick swell at the base of him starting to press insistently against you.

He growls when your body tries to resist it, claws digging into the earth beside your head as he forces himself deeper. You cry out, overwhelmed, stretched too wide, and he groans—deep, guttural—as the knot pops inside. Locked. Stuffed. Filled.

“Shhh,” he rumbles, voice animal-thick, muzzle nudging at your cheek, “s’alright. You’ll take it. Gonna keep it all in, yeah?”

The stretch, the burn, the way your walls flutter helplessly around him—it’s too much, too perfect. He can feel everything, and so can you. That throbbing knot pulsing against your insides, his release locked deep where it’s meant to stay.

No escaping now. Not for hours.

You whimper his name, and his voice rumbles with satisfaction: “Good girl. That’s it. Take my knot, princess. Take every bloody drop.”

And you do. You have to.

tagging my favorite sicko - @goatgoesmbe

[pinkedify]

in another life

[fallenclan]

if tumblr deletes or otherwise permanently screws up this blog, will you make another blog? if so, with a different clan, or with this one?

to be honest, I'd probably end Fallenclan, and possibly start up a new clan. not sure if i'd do it on tumblr or not though, since i don't see an end to these long-standing problems any time soon lol

[huhwhuhs]

Urghhhhhhhgruuuuu.....flessssshhhhhh.....

—

Today sucked, genuinely sucked, it wasn't a bad day all around, but it was just because my favorite set of ear buds decided to crap out on me last second so I had to go through the day in complete silence.

Which, in my personal opinion, is genuinely miserable.

The worst part was that they were actually pretty new, only two years old, and my last set gave me a good five. But one of the speakers just decided to blow out entirely and I'm not only going to listen to music in one ear for the rest of the time I have them.

But it doesn't matter now, shit happens and you just have to move on in life. I'm sure there's some inspiring quote out there about hurdles for this exact reason. So, I do as everyone does and go buy new earbuds with my already limited budget.

My job isn't the best, dead end at a packaging facility with a boss who thinks since I can actually do my work it's okay to pile more on me for free. Luckily, I have a bit of leftover spending money, so while I won't have anymore outings these next two months, I at least won't be entirely miserable during them.

Things are expensive now though, it's price tag after price tag, google search after google search, checking reviews and wondering how some of these got past the first testing trial with so many glitches.

But, eventually, right near the back of the rack, tucked awkwardly away because they probably don't bring in as much money as the others, is a plastic container with a little square black case inside.

It's shockingly cheap, there's not many reviews on them but none seem too bad, and they'll at least last me until I can save for some actual good ones, and maybe still have enough to catch dinner with my friends sometime.

I go to the counter, the cashier looks at me funny but I think it's because she never really sees anyone buying these, that or I'm more disheveled than I first thought. Then I pay and walk out.

Back home after a long drive, the radio louder than normal to make up for what I was lacking during the time I was standing awkwardly silent in that store. Unlock the door, step inside, kick my shoes off and watch them thunk against the shoe rack I never bother to actually use properly, and sit down to set everything up.

The case is pleasantly warm, I think they were pre-charged since the little light on the front for the battery shines yellow instead of red, most likely drained while it was sitting out on the rack. I grab the little manual, press down on the two little black earbuds while they're in the case to turn on pairing mode, and finally get them connected.

The manual, of course, says things about how you should take them out regularly, and how constant loud playing can "irritate" the speakers. A strange word for it but it's not something to pay much mind to.

Of course, I don't listen, because I love destroying my hearing one song at a time. They mold to my ears surprisingly comfortably, they're never cold out of the case, and they must run on solar power or something because every time I put them back in they're already charged. It almost feels uncomfortable to take them out now, like I'm taking some part of my ear with it.

Yeah, it's... almost ironic looking back on it now. Staring into the mirror as I take out my earbuds to shower and watch blood trickle out of my ear canal, freaking out and then seeing how pale and disgusting the inside of my ear has become, how its soft and sensitive and spongey with little porous holes in the flesh, everything is muffled and I can't tell if the swelling is blocking it, the blood, or if my ears are just infected and dead already.

I can only attribute it to one thing, and to i take those damned earbuds and throw them on the tile, watching the backs of them break off and start bleeding how it oozes onto the tile and stains it red how I can see bloody flesh underneath how I can see it pulse like it breathes and the little blood-stained hairs on the eartips like soft bristles that act like mosquitos how it mo v e s

[taxidermycanine]

(not clingy at all) do you still like me even if i am not like you. am i annoying. do you like me. do you love me. do you want me. am i too much. do you love me. do you love me. do you love me?

[marspebbles]

mashing my two fixations together like rocks

[fond99-blog]

[serpentine-illusion]

This is just my ass talking ignore me but perpetua is so beyond gender to me. Ethereal to a degree that is giving me transfemme but also no gender just vibes but fucks so heavy with over the top bedazzled dumb fuckery. There is no gender there is only vision. I dont know.

[lissy2d]

Pathetic.