#im a virgin btw

[joonipertree]

I literally said "Did you get the angst fucked out of you? Probably yeah"

one breath, without pause

because I went to therapy today where we're working on me feeling more attractive and its working but I realised that maybe getting laid might help

I realised i was a lot more sexually repressed than I thought I was

and I'm like 'huh'

a few orgasms (all by my lonesome) later and I'm like

'hUH'

anyways.....what character would ask u this after they fuck u real good?

[s1mpl3sp0ng3]

"the mortifying ordeal of being known"??? why don't you think about the hornifying ordeal of being BLOWN you fuckin,g NERD

[jesuistrestriste]

SAAGGEEEE your corrupting art blurb UUUGGGGHHHHH TOO FUCKING GOOD

thinking about the same scenario of him being overwhelmed & so deeply in subspace… but making him cum for the first time ever & he’s so whiny & doesn’t know what’s going on & feels so good when he cums he just doesn’t know what to do 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

DYLAN LISTENNN

i haven’t rlly written too much corruption kink stuff bc i’ve been focused on other things, but now im fully in the game.

i’m thinking about an inexperienced, virgin!art donaldson who’s never had a real orgasm before.

wet dreams? sure!

but’s he’s never been conscious to experience those releases; just woken up to warm, sticky boxers and a funny feeling swirling lingeringly around in his stomach.

maybe he’s never explored that sector of life before due to something like: barely repressed religious guilt, or the fear that it’ll be too intense for him to handle, or just plain business..! but the point is that he’s never experienced that hot, all-consuming, pulsing rush of pleasure that floods through your body when you come undone..

so when he finds himself submitting in your arms, the two of you tangled in your bed while he mindlessly seeks friction against your leg and kisses you, his eyes fly wide open when he feels a bolt of something good shoot through his cock in his briefs.

“oh,” he whines against your lips before he pulls back and swallows thickly, “oh, god..”

you look to his eyes and chuckle softly, catching your breath while your hand snakes down to grope his bulge— rewarding you with a sharp moan and a jerk of his hips.

“you’re so sensitive,” you whisper, your hand giving two tugs on his clothed cock before art is grasping for your arms, his legs starting to tense.

“s-something’s coming.”

he says it in a way that makes him sound utterly terrified but completely elated, simultaneously. he’s quaking against you, letting out little moans into your neck that are rapidly increasing in volume and frequency with each passing half-second.

fuck, he’s already teetering on that ledge— so overcome with the new sensations that he can’t squeeze his thighs together hard enough to stall his crossing of the finish line.

sweat is prickling on his skin almost uncomfortably, and he’s melting into your frame as he buries his face in your shoulder. his blonde curls brush your jaw and cheek. another tug on his erection sends him hurtling toward the end of it all before he can even properly grasp the build-up. poor thing.

“i… i feel really weird—.. i can’t—! i think im gonna..! gonna-!”

he yelps, before his vision completely whites out. his fingers curl into your biceps and his legs kick out and spasm as he lets out another broken cry. his voice comes out mangled through the heady waves of dopamine and the surge of emotions.

he’s never felt anything like it.

nothing’s even come fuckin’ close.

not a win on the court for a sparkling medal or trophy, not a bite of his mom’s special cooking, not even cry-laughing at patrick’s dumb jokes.

nothing.

this is everything.

god, how did he miss out on this for so long? what was life even like before this type of ecstasy?

he’s gushing into his underwear (heaps of held-in loads finally pouring out), rocking against your leg as you gently work him through it with a smile on your face, and he can’t quite seem to think of an answer to either of those questions of his..

it’s all too much in the best way.

“oh fuck, fuck fuck fuck, im cumming,” he gasps, sounding laughably bewildered and unsteady, his touch growing almost painful on your limbs.

he doesn’t mean to grab you so hard, but the feelings are consuming him wholly and he needs to clutch onto something before he’s sure he’ll float away. he needs you to ground him—comfort him, help him, teach him.

he can’t believe what’s happening, and now he’s only got one thing left on his mind as the aftershocks make his head spin:

how’s he ever supposed to survive sex?

[sbeana]

im not even joking when i say that this stupid butch helped me learn to let loose and be more butch too

[lobotomy-lady]

ok!! haha! being a single virgin for the vast majority of my 20s has been funny & all but it's getting old much like my avoidant attachment style & myself in general so uh who want me !!

[dr0pdeadg0rgeous]

moodboard by me ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

[raedioactive]

Blitzø, incredibly drunk and crying: Stolas, I have something to confess to you

Stolas, thinking he's about to admit his love for him: yes, darling?

Blitzø: I- I'm a virgin!!!

Stolas:

Blitzø: *crying*

Stolas:

Stolas: he's drunk isn't he

Moxxie, from behind the fridge: oh yeah, definitely

[winchesticles67]

my friend just told me that whenever they see x files stuff its just "that one guy being girlypop"

[cherry-lipgloss]

i'm going to california for a week this summer 🙏 🙏 thank god

[barkbarkgrrgrrwolf]

Spoilers 4 the new BSD chapter

{^u^} Bye Kenji ill see u when u come back! And if u dont come back ill still see u bc im gonna kill myself and meet u in hevaen or whatevr!!!

Rip to u, Kunikida, and Jurichiro btw, yall will b missed dearly by an unstable teenager.

They WILL b added 2 the shrine now

[kazunarei]

I can't deal with this

Like I just love how in Dante's last room of his summer alt Eiden was riding his dick but Dante was moving too and so Eiden has to tell him stay still let me do everything

And Dante is like no

And Eiden is like huffing this is my thanks for saving me let me make you feel good

And Dante is like nah I'm gonna make you feel good

And liek I'm fucking crying at these two I so done with these dumbfucks why the hell are they arguing in the middle of fucking asdkmvoeprkingvpouibnp39uirqepnwidn;amcv; (ノ｀Д)ノ

I fucking hate Dante BTW\

This motherfucker did 1 ONE thing that made me become obsessed with him

I wish I could remember how I reacted to hiim wwhen he first appeared in chapter ten.

How the fuck has it been two years since I started playing what the actual fuck (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

Fucking cowboy event Fucking Dante flirting with Eiden

I still remember kicking and squealing when that happened and suddenly Dante was all I could think about

aaaaaaaaaaaa

[harvestmoth]

wwhat if they. had pokemon

pokemon the characters might have idk it is unpolished and also spoilers from the novels kind of

[thewardenisonthecase]

be honest with me.

idk if theres nuance here but im not giving a nuance option

[bidisaster-peanut-romano]

actually, you know what.

this is from a deleted chapter of shttdd. i had to cut it for a number of reasons, but this scene was one of the first i pictured in my mind and it works perfectly with the idea i still have about the relationship between peanut and his mother.

so. here it is, a deleted and rough draft of an excerpt from the story as well as a headcanon. enjoy <3

-

word count: 1.5k ca.

-

He finds her sitting on the bench at the stop, a bit of the excitement already faded, if anything in the calm of the wait in the rigid December cold, as Larry sits next to her.

Ever since he was a child, he has barely ever set foot in a church, except maybe a few times that he had to fetch Johnny for some Greasers meeting, so he certainly is no reliable source. Still, when he looks at his mother like this, when she isn’t running from one place to the other, he can’t help but think she looks sort of like a Madonna — in the good Sunday dress her mother had left her, smile sweet but with some undefinable glint of sadness in the corner of her eye. 

His knowledge of the story is vague, but he struggles to believe them, when he hears people claim Mary had happily and unconditionally accepted sacrificing her youth for a child, no matter how much good he would’ve done for the world or how much she would’ve been adored or even how much she would’ve loved the child. Larry is no Jesus, but he knows for sure that, despite treasuring him and loving him to death, his mom has never stopped grieving the teenage years she had to give up for a kid that only ever stopped her from flying away.

«The Espositos are so nice, inviting us all there.» When she speaks, her gaze is lost in the streets in front of her, and she might as well be talking more to herself than to her son. «It’s nice to stay over there, with people who care about you. It’s nice.»

There has always been something ironic about the way she loves and celebrates Christmas, especially since she’s never had a good relationship with a Father that has never cared about her and the only holy water in their house has only ever been the spit on good old Christian ladies condemning her to the stake. Everything she loves about the twenty-fifth of December, Larry has only guessed, is that, for a day, she can pretend not to be in charge, to have someone to rely on.

«Who else of your friends is there?»

She purposefully puts it casually, but the question stabs Larry’s heart sideways nonetheless. However, just like she did, he nonchalantly tries to list of all his Greaser friends that Hal might have invited for Christmas. «Well, usual, I guess. Lefty’s back in Rome for the week, Vance is with his sisters and his mom… most of them will stay at their own house I think. I’m not sure about the Pucinos, since Ricky’s dad just came back an’ all that. But I don’t think anyone else is coming. I wonder if Johnny and Lola will come, after all I think it’s jus’ the two of ‘em. I might go see them in the afternoon.»

At the last two names he finds himself biting the tip of his tongue, some bad feeling in his throat, the doubt that he wouldn’t have been able to avoid the topic if he said it nor if he didn’t.

True to his expectation, at the sole mention of Johnny’s name, his mom’s features harden, her eyes still into the distance; not even looking at him.

What a great way to start the day.

A huff escapes his mouth, but the knot in his trachea doesn’t go away with it. «Mom, I get that you don’t like him, you don’t gotta do this every single time.»

«It’s not that I don’t like him, it’s not personal!» She shakes her head energetically, as she always does, but Larry knows exactly where this is going anyway, and he’s awfully tired of this shitshow that opens its curtains any time he just happens to mention Johnny.

He rolls his eyes, sparks of irritation jumping in his chest, head falling in his hands as all the blood flowing to it makes it heavier and heavier. «I can’t believe we’re having this conversation at a fuckin’ bus stop.»

«I just,» Shrugging frantically, she keeps following her train of thoughts, deaf and blind to her son’s reaction, only her own heart beating in her head. «don’t think you should trust him as much as you do, y’know.»

His arms open, and he’s not looking at her either, too busy trying to hear his own voice over the roar in his ears. «He’s always taken care of me! Always!»

Her argument is always the same, repetitive, stubborn; he must have taken it from somewhere, after all. «For now! You can’t rely on that kind of guy!»

«“That kind of guy”.» Her and Johnny might have interacted two, three, four times at best, and certainly she’s never seen him rush at his side, or waiting for him to wake up in the infirmary, or introducing him to the higher ranking members of the clique, or pulling him away from bullies’ grip, or fighting back by back with him against older kids jumping them. She doesn’t know him, doesn’t know them, and, after leaving him wondering in his earliest childhood if she had ever wanted him around at all, she is definitely not in the position to judge whether Johnny actually cares about him or not. «What “kind of guy” would he be, huh?»

Still, she goes on, undeterred, if anything more determined to make her point come across. «He’ll just chase the first thing that excites him! He can only enjoy things as long as they’re good, but he’ll leave as soon as he doesn’t have fun anymore!»

This time, Larry snaps. «Oh, c’mon! Just ‘cause dad—»

Their eyes finally cross. Suddenly, they are but two sixteen years old staring at each other, both lost, confused, horridly lonely. He’s said the one word that he’s never supposed to voice, that is meant to stay stuck between the teeth she’s kept gritted since the day she found herself alone sixteen years ago. As soon as Larry has let it out, it has pierced into her gaze, breaking the glass of her eyes that she had tried to keep together with superhuman effort.

What an asshole that he is, isn’t he.

Taking back his words is impossible, now, or, at least, there’s nothing he can do to glue those pieces back together, fragile like crystal in his rough and indelicate hands. «Mom…»

«You know what? You’re right.» She turns her head away again; her voice is coarse, older than the thirty-two years old she’s supposed to be, as shaky as the little girl she never grew out of. «I can’t believe we’re having this conversation at a fuckin’ bus stop.»

Apologies are stuck up his throat, blocking his breath, but he knows better than to insist; for once, he should just be an adult and shut his mouth.

He just wishes this wasn’t such a minefield, one where they are only ever condemned to hurt each other.

When they get on the bus, it’s wordlessly, silence heavy on Larry’s stomach and his mom’s eyes passively laying on the window as the buildings slide behind it, gray snow that clashes with the colored lights, five broken for each one shining. She is often silent when something’s wrong; when he was younger, naive and unable to grasp why she should have been upset at him coming back home just a few minutes too late, he would stare at her from the couch, dread in his throat as her face wouldn’t soften for hours, waiting for her to give him a smile, to tell him that it was okay and she still loved him.

Growing older, though, he’s learned to be patient, to test the waters slowly and let her know that she’s safe peeking out of her own head. Lightly, making sure that his own uneasiness doesn’t leak through — she doesn’t need a child to comfort, right now. «Mom?»

Not an answer, a gesture, a gaze.

He takes a breath; just another try. «Mom, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up.»

Finally, she turns to him. At first, there’s still something cold, distant in time and space, like her soul is only now realizing what body she’s finding herself into, like she’s seeing him for the first time, at birth. However, it warms soon after, thin lips curling in a soft smile, that Holy Mary tender and bittersweet gaze, as she caresses his cheek. «It’s okay. I just wish you didn’t turn out so much like me.»

This is another thing that she tells him often; in all these years, though, Larry still hasn’t found quite the right explanation. All he can do is laying his head on her shoulder and let her stroke his hair, pretending for just a second that they can be just as happy together as any mother and son would be.

What would they be like, if they were okay?

[scalpelsister]

what if i lost the will to live like. as a joke. what then.

[girl-bateman]

Big open spaces are the devil. Nooks and crannies are my friends.