#im sorry this got out of hand

[nymphoutofwater]

And why? Cultural norms? Personal schedule? “Cause I’m always late to everything”?

Bonus points: Region and/or ethnicity?

[typingbunny]

I‘m obsessed with this

Him pressing her to the ground

His body covering her entire body bc he's so tall and broad, the feeling of his weight on her

The handholding that functions as pinning her down

His red ears (might be from the cold though)

The hand on her cheeks + kinda holding her chin just bc he can since his hands are so big

This is only a guess but convince me that he's not parting her legs with his resting one leg dangerously close to the warmth he "needs"

On that note: the ice melting during the kiss

His outfit is not only pretty but I bet fun to take off as well-

Warning: this is just smut, pure filth.

If you’re not 18+ this is your cue to leave 🚪

Zayne is the type of boyfriend that makes you ride him while looking into his eyes until you can’t hold yourself up anymore because it’s so intense and he’s reaching so deep.

He loves this view. He may be under you but don’t let it fool you to think you’re in charge. If he wanted to he could just fuck into you from this angle by slightly working his hips towards you and make you see stars. However at this point, how hazy you are already that would be just cruel … wouldn’t it?

This angle allows him a prime view to just watch you as you chase your high by using him as not more than a means to get that release you’re craving.

He’s obsessed with you. He tries to hide how much he really adores you because he doesn’t want to scare you away with how much he actually wants you, needs you, but he is sure you can feel his heart pounding beneath your hands as you straddle him regardless of his attempts to mask it. The heart cannot lie.

He reaches up and cups your perky breasts in his big, surprisingly warm, hands. They are so warm they feel like fire on your skin so much it feels like they are trying to burn themselves onto Zayne’s favourite part of your body. After idly caressing your breasts, Zayne changes up the soothing manner and opts for increasing the roughness of his touch as he alternates between massaging them gently to squeezing them harshly from time to time, a feeling that goes straight to your core.

The look on your face, that cock-drunk expression: mouth slightly agape, eyes struggling to stay focused threatening to roll back and you tearing up because of how good he is making you feel. Zayne has jerked off to your face more times than he wants to admit.

He gently cups your face causing you to ground yourself a little and make eye contact with him. His thumb strokes over your cheek in an adoring manner until it travels down to your lips. They are pink and swollen and for a second he thinks about sinking his cock between them, but not now. Now he wants you to cum for him while he is buried deep inside of you. Deeper than any other man ever was nor would for that matter because that is out of question. No matter the circumstances or consequences, Zayne would hunt down whoever tried to replace him. He could easily make it look like an accident. Sometimes his love for you scares him but that’s a price he is willing to pay.

“Open.“

He doesn’t have to elaborate, you know exactly what he wants as you start sucking on his fingers like a shameless whore. His whore. Only his. Forever. The little velvet box bearing an engagement ring, that has been resting in his part of the closet for a while being a token for that.

“Good girl.“

He takes his wet fingers out of your mouth and swirls them around your nipple and a tiny moan erupts from you. Zayne chuckles and you send him a playful glare. That glare doesn’t hold up long though because drinking in how sinful your boyfriend looks under you, you’re quickly occupied with trying not to cum but rather ingrain that image into your memory so you’ll remember it for the rest of your life.

Black hair pushed back, slightly tousled; most likely a result of your doings earlier when his face was buried between your thighs. His cheeks and ears are red, a telltale sign that he is either embarrassed or aroused. Right now it’s the latter. His forehead is covered in beats of sweat and his eyes are filled with something that can be only described as pure lust.

You’re brought back to planet earth by a cold pinch of your sensitive nipples and another moan escapes you. That crazy motherfucker used his EVOL and it felt good. Make lemonade out of lemons or whatever they say.

This was the last straw to your somewhat composure. Now you are clutching onto his shoulders to hold yourself up as Zayne continues his assault on your nipples.

“Zayne-”

Hearing you moan his name always does it for him. He can feel something in him snap, most likely his self control and his blood practically starts to boil.

“Come here.”

And then, with a swift motion he just scoops you up into his arms pressing your chest against his as he rocks you up and down the whole length of cock like his personal fleshlight. If you weren’t moaning and screaming you’d be in awe of how strong he is as he rocks you up and down hitting deeper than you thought was ever possible, muscles flexing beneath his perfect skin. In an attempt to get even closer to him you bury your face into his neck and let yourself be consumed by Zayne’s smell, that certain smell you call home. God the things you’d do for this man.

Clutching your thighs, his fingertips leave little marks that knowing Zayne, he will profusely apologize for tomorrow. Meanwhile you’re holding onto his shoulders for dear life carelessly leaving little crescent moons on his back.

He once pointed out, how much he actually enjoys you “leaving a mark on him”. First you thought it was a typical Zayne move trying to comfort you so you don’t feel bad about hurting him. But one day when you where looking for pictures on his phone for a little gift you were preparing, a photoalbum for your anniversary, you found an interesting picture.

It was Zayne in front of your bedroom mirror trying to photograph said marks on his back. You contemplated to tease him with the evidence but the mental imagine of big mean Zayne (that’s at least what others who didn’t know him thought of him to be) standing in front of your bedroom mirror trying to get the perfect picture was too adorable. What you don’t know is that once he got it, he just stood there in the middle of the room looking at the picture, 6’1 of lovey-dovey mush with a loopy grin on his face.

So right now you are basically clawing at his back amping up the scratches the more he moans and curses under his breath.

Once he can’t take it anymore and the only thing on his mind is breeding you as he cums over and over again deep inside of you filling you up until you beg him to stop, he embraces you tightly and flips both of you so he is on top. Your legs are wrapped around his waist and he feels your wetness all over him. Immediately his hands find yours, interlacing your fingers. What looks like romantically holding hands is his gateway to restrain you, holding them tightly pinned over your head so your tits are completely exposed.

His lips find one sensitive nub and he starts devouring you while looking up at you through his lashes, and you swear if he keeps that up you’re going to reach your high from this alone.

“Zayne please-

M-Move!”

He detaches from his favourite toy, his personal little make her dumb button so to speak, to look at you, a twinkle in his eye. For a second he imagines what it would be like to make you suffer a little bit and make you beg for it. Because he knows you would beg for him. Just like you have many times.

You’re so fucked out and desperate for him it turns him on so much it almost hurts and though he swears couldn’t possibly be any harder he feels another wave of desire wash over him, threatening to drown him. Not only does he accept his fate, the thought weirdly enough makes him beyond happy and he struggles to hide the smirk creeping up on the corner of his by now swollen lips as he goes in for a kiss and you can’t help but surrender yourself to.

“ Whatever you want my love.”

He leans down whispering in your ear, voice laced with desire, and something slightly … sadistic?

“Just remember, you asked for it.”

From that point on, only the gods above can help you and the bed frame …

I don’t know why but I picture Zayne to be less of a butt guy and rather a boobie guy maybe because of cardio lmao … 💭

[monobmp]

Thought about that tid bit of Bill mentioning that he can delete memories

[anbaisai]

Happy belated birthday Jamil! I hope you know just how loved you are ❤🐍

[isjasz]

The Promised Neverland manga spoilers!

[Day 201]

Everyone blame cherrysherin2 (go check out this art that made me absolutely lose it) I take no responsibility

[hg-aneh]

I think it was about time I introduced tumblr to my book Crowley... who eventually became a walking love letter to Latino culture lmao

(You can think of him as a Book Crowley who spent way too much time in south america)

Language wise, he's an amalgamation of all latin american spanish dialects (+pt-br) so,, have fun translating some of the things he's saying

[starry-bi-sky]

i need to get this out of my head before i continue clone^2 but danny being the first batkid. Like, standard procedure stuff: his parents and sister die, danny ends up with Vlad Masters. He drags him along to stereotypical galas and stuff; Danny is not having a good time.

He ends up going to one of the Wayne Galas being hosted ever since elusive Bruce Wayne has returned to Gotham. Vlad is crowing about having this opportunity as he's been wanting to sink his claws into the company for a long while now. Danny is too busy grieving to care what he wants.

And like most Galas, once Vlad is done showing him off to the other socialites and the like, he disappears. Off to a dark corner, or to one of the many balconies; doesn't matter. There he runs into said star of the show, Bruce who is still young, has been Batman for at least a year at this point, but still getting used to all these damn people and socializing. He's stepped off to hide for a few minutes before stepping back into the shark tank.

And he runs into a kid with circles under his eyes and a dull gleam in them. Familiar, like looking into a mirror.

Danny tries to excuse himself, he hasn't stopped crying since his parents died and it's been months. He rubs his eyes and stands up, and stumbles over a half-hearted apology to Mister Wayne. Some of Vlad's etiquette lessons kicking in.

Bruce is awkward, but he softens. "That's alright, lad," he says, pulling up some of that Brucie Wayne confidence, "I was just coming out here to get some fresh air."

There's a little pressing; Bruce asks who he's here with, Danny says, voice quiet and grief-stricken, that he's with his godfather Vlad Masters. Bruce asks him if he knows where he is, and Danny tells him he does. Bruce offers to leave, Danny tells him to do whatever he wants.

It ends with Bruce staying, standing off to the side with Danny in silence. Neither of them say a word, and Danny eventually leaves first in that same silence.

Bruce looks into Vlad Masters after everything is over, his interest piqued. He finds news about him taking in Danny Fenton: he looks into Danny Fenton. He finds news articles about his parents' deaths, their occupations, everything he can get his hands on.

At the next gala, he sees Danny again. And he looks the same as ever: quiet like a ghost, just as pale, and full of grief. Bruce sits in silence with him again for nearly ten minutes before he strikes a conversation.

"Do you like to do anything?"

Nothing. Just silence.

Bruce isn't quite sure what to do: comfort is not his forte, and Danny doesn't know him. He's smart enough to know that. So he starts talking about other things; anything he can think of that Brucie Wayne might say, that also wasn't inappropriate for a kid to hear.

Danny says nothing the entire time, and is again the first to leave.

Bruce watches from a distance as he intercts with Vlad Masters; how Vlad Masters interacts with him. He doesn't like what he sees: Vlad Masters keeps a hand on Danny's shoulder like one would hold onto the collar of a dog. He parades him around like a trophy he won.

And there are moments, when someone gets too close or when someone tries to shake Danny's hand, of deep possessiveness that flints over Vlad Masters' eyes. Like a dragon guarding a horde.

He plays the act of doting godfather well: but Bruce knows a liar when he sees one. Like recognizes like.

Danny is dull-eyed and blank faced the entire time; he looks miserable.

So Bruce tries to host more parties; if only so that he can talk to Danny alone. Vlad seems all too happy to attend, toting Danny along like a ribbon, and on the dot every hour, Danny slips away to somewhere to hide. Bruce appears twenty minutes later.

"I was looking into your godfather's company," he says one night, trying to think of more things to say. Some nights all they do is sit in silence. "Some of my shareholders were thinking of partnering up--"

"Don't."

He stops. Danny hardly says a word to him, he doesn't even look at him -- he's sitting on the ground, his head in his knees. Like he's trying to hide from the world. But he's looking, blue eyes piercing up at Bruce.

Bruce tilts his head, practiced puppy-like. "Pardon?"

"Don't." Danny says, strongly. "Don't make any deals with Vlad."

It's the most words Danny's spoken to him, and there's a look in his eyes like a candle finding its spark. Something hard. Bruce presses further, "And why is that?"

The spark flutters, and flushes out. Danny blinks like he's coming out of a trance, and slumps back into himself. "Just don't."

Bruce stares at him, thoughtful, before looking away. "Alright. I won't."

And they fall back into silence.

Danny, when he leaves, turns to look at Bruce, "I mean it." He says; soft like he's telling a secret, "Don't make any deals with him. Don't be alone with him. Don't work with him."

He's scampered away before Bruce can question him further.

(He never planned on working with Vlad Masters and his company; he's done his research. He's seen the misfortune. But nothing ever leads back to him. There's no evidence of anything. But Danny knows something.)

At their next meeting, Danny starts the conversation. It's new, and it's welcomed. He says, cutting through their five minute quiet, that he likes stars. And he doesn't like that he can't see them in Gotham.

Bruce hums in interest, and Danny continues talking. It's as if floodgates had been opened, and as Bruce takes a sip of his wine, it tastes like victory.

("Tucker told me once--") ("Tucker?") ("Oh-- uh, one of my best friends. He's a tech geek. We haven't talked in a while.")

(Danny shut down in his grief -- his friends are worried, but can't reach him. When he goes back to the manor with Vlad, he fishes out his phone and sends them a message.)

(They are ecstatic to hear from him.)

It all culminates until one day, when Danny is leaving to go back inside, that Bruce speaks up. "You know," He says, leaning against the railing. "The manor has many rooms; plenty of space for a guest."

The implication there, hidden between the lines. And Danny is smart, he looks at Bruce with a sharp glean in his eyes, and he nods. "Good to know."

The next time they see each other, Danny has something in his hands. "Can you hold onto something for me?" He asks.

When Bruce agrees, Danny places a pearl into his palm. or, at least, it's something that looks like a pearl. Because it's cold to the touch; sinking into Bruce's white silk gloves with ease and shimmering like an opal. It moves a little as it settles into his hand, and the moves like its full of liquid.

Bruce has never seen anything like it before, but he does know this; it's not human. "What is it?" He asks, and Danny looks uncomfortable.

"I can't tell you that." He says, shifting on his foot like he's scared of someone seeing it. "But please be careful with it. Treat it like it's extremely fragile."

When Bruce gets home, he puts it in an empty ring box and hides the box in the cave. He tries researching into what it is. he can't find anything concrete.

Everything comes to a head one day when Danny appears at the manor's doorstep one evening, soaking wet in the rain, and bleeding from the side.

[shyaringan]

on a scale of one to ten how homosexual is gerry keay to tou

this man has never had a straight thought in his life

[bebagerie]

i fell in love with a war

[aerostaticsurrender]

JEAN VICQUEMARE - "She was incredibly fuckable. A beautiful bourgeois woman. Waifish. Like a *welkin* basically."

CONCEPTUALIZATION - Snow Welkin. Blonde Welkin...

[jettorii]

he needs to be humbled give him a second

[dendroaspis-viridis]

I'm begging you, BioWare... Learn from the mistakes of Baldur's Gates past...

[bsdladiesweek]

🌸 BSD ladies week 2025 prompts 🌸

the prompts for BSD ladies week are here!!

you may mix and match prompts for each day as you see fit, and interpret them however you wish so long as your creations follow the rules. BSD ladies week will run january 19-25, 2025. for posting, please tag this account + use the tag #bsdladiesweek2025 so we can reblog everyone's works!

happy creating💗

rules || faq

plain text prompts under the cut ↓

prompt list: (dates are in month/day format)

day one (01/19): casual wear/dress up || found family || fantasy au

day two (01/20): baking/cooking || post-canon/post-season 5 || band/idol au

day three (01/21): ability || tending to wounds || swap au (role swap, organization swap, ability swap, etc.)

day four (01/22): girls’ night/group hangout || blood || school au

day five (01/23): disability/chronic illness || festival || pirate au

day six (01/24): unexpected friendship || arson || beast au

day seven (01/25): aquarium || hiding a body || vampire au OR free day

[buwheal]

Why does the orange Addison's mannequin kinda resemble you?

[arsenicflame]

It's a time-honoured tradition- every time Sam comes across Izzy (and Ed) in their travels, he asks Izzy to marry him. And every time, Izzy turns him down.

At this point, Sam is asking more for the sake of it than any belief Izzy will ever say yes, a remnant of childhood dedication touched with 30 years of heartbreak and regret- though even now, a small part of him still holds out hope. Sam's promises have only got more extravagant over the years, from a job as his first mate, to a captaincy, a fleet at his command, a whole fucking island if that's what Izzy wants- but he knows it isn't though, not really. If Izzy was ever going to agree to marry him, to leave his life and go with Sam, it wouldn't be for anything Sam could offer him. Izzy never did care for flashy shows of wealth, for a ship or to be captain. The only thing that ever mattered to him was loyalty given, and loyalty shown in return. 

It all comes to a head after Stede left and came back, after Izzy lost a toe, lost his leg. Sam hasn't seen him since before things with Ed started to really slide off the rails, before stress permanently set into the lines of Izzy’s face. So, when he sees a dishevelled man with a hoof for a leg in a no-name port, he doesn't even consider the idea that he might know him. It's only when he turns towards him, and Sam catches a glance at those oh too familiar tattoos, he realises this is Izzy, his Izzy, that stands before him.

Knowing Izzy's discomfort with pity, he doesn't treat him any differently than he would in years gone by, positioning himself in Izzy's line of sight before approaching and sweeping him up into a bone crushing hug. 

“Israel-goddamn-Hands!” he exclaims, as Izzy grumbles back a begrudging “Samuel-fucking-Bellamy”, a tradition almost as old as their friendship itself. Izzy might not hug him back, but he can’t keep the corner of his mouth from twitching, just for a second.

(If Sam holds Izzy a little tighter and a little longer than usual, well. That's his business)

By the time Sam lets go, most of the crew has appeared in the town square, drawn in by the commotion. They may have given Izzy his leg and welcomed him as one of them, but still there’s an underlying tension, with nobody quite ready to set aside everything that happened before the Kraken. Seeing him cosying up to an unknown man sets everyone on edge, unsure whether to come to their first mate’s aid, or to assume that they've been betrayed once again.

When Ed sees that the yelling was Sam, his hand goes tense where it's held in Stede's. He knows the routine, has seen it more times than he can count, but as he watches them part he realises that this is the first time in a long time he's unsure of what Izzy's response will be.

Knowing that something’s different, knowing that Izzy's feeling vulnerable already, Sam doesn't go for the same flashy proposal he’s been giving for years. He doesn't promise Izzy the world, he doesn't cause a scene (or, any more of a scene than he already has, anyway). He looks at the fractured man in front of him, takes his face in his hands, and says the exact same thing to him he said when they were little more than boys. “Israel, I have to ask you. I know what you'll say, but I have to try. Come with me. Marry me and sail away with me. I'll keep you safe”

And Izzy… hesitates. He glances over at Ed, at Stede, and says to Sam “...We’re staying in port for a week. Ask me again then”

That's the moment Sam knows there is something deeply, horribly, wrong. He's not just looking at an Izzy who got seriously injured in a fight and is struggling to cope, this is something so much bigger than that- and that Ed has something to do with it. Izzy wouldn't even be considering leaving if he didn't. Whether it was negligence or something more sinister, Sam doesn't yet know, but he intends to find out.

[mothmanavenue]

can i confess something else that will absolutely get me stoned in the town square since im dropping my unpopular opinions. I don’t like altean broadsword Lance. i already disliked red paladin Lance. the broadsword was like rubbing salt in the wound. why couldn’t he have his own niche. why was his character development just making him keith. i understand that it was like “he accepts that he doesn’t have to be a leader and excels as a co-leader and you can find happiness that way yada yada yada”. but you could’ve done that without making him keith. also now give him something unique, cool, that falls in line with his sniper bit. i’m not saying just give him another gun, im saying give him something quiet and lethal. like a garotte. yeah i want garotte lance.

i yap a lot more in my notes by the way if you were interested in other unpopular opinions. don’t send me hate messages or comments i won’t read it and will block viciously i also will not be debating this this is my hill to die on <3