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[pondanimal]

did someone say mclennon cuddle

alt ver

@nervenow

[dirtgrubber]

he might be ace but he’s still a cunty flirt

[rawbin-hsr]

Aventurine x Reader

You treat Aventurine with more respect than he deserves.

Read part 2 here !

Only barely proof-read, guaranteed to have lots of grammatical errors, English is not my first language and I am experimenting with my writing style <3

CW: smut, handjob (Aventurine receiving), dehumanisation (internal, thoughts Aventurine has of himself, referring to himself as a “monster”), feelings of inadequacy, hurt/very little comfort, crying, mentions of death, at some points this seems like dubcon because Aventurine speaks of feeling “dread”, but it’s NEVER intended to be read as him not wanting to receive touch from reader, it is meant to convey how little he thinks he deserves this. The smut is soft and gentle, but Aventurine’s internal thoughts definitely are not <3

Lmk if there’s anything else I should warn about !!

18+, minors will be blocked <3

Your touch is so kind. Soft and gentle, as if he is made of the finest porcelain, as if he is a fragile flower, as if he is delicate. It is cruel, he thinks, that he has made you think he is any less than a monster. It is cruel that he hasn’t pushed you away, when he knows he will devour you. It has become part of his nature.

But how can he push you away when you are so persistent? How can he push you away when you roll with his punches, when you go along with each and every one of his pushes and pulls? It is hard to keep you out when you insistently pry your way into what’s left of his soul, when you gaze upon the rotten corpse that he is and still claim him to be beautiful. He thinks you must be blind at best and naive at worst.

“You’re so pretty,” you whisper reverently, and though Aventurine knows his body is, he also knows that is not the part of him you’re referring to. Not when your hand rests on his chest, above the empty cavern where his heart is meant to be.

You kiss his neck and he shivers. There’s a pit in his stomach, knotting his insides with dread.

He should tell you to stop, should warn you that he’s deceiving you, that he’s not the person you think he is. Should show you that he is a wolf in sheep’s clothing, that he is a bad omen. But he can’t bring himself to. Not when being with you feels so good, not when he’s self-indulgent to a fault, and he can’t help himself with you. He is the worst mistake you could ever make, in part because he can’t even stop from letting you continue to make it.

His hands rest on the back of your neck, fingers tangled in your hair. It is unfair how good your touch feels, his back arching just from mere caresses upon his skin. You play him like he’s an instrument you’ve practiced for years, despite never having fucked him before. He digs his heels into your back as your hand wraps around his dick, and he whines into your shoulder when you lovingly stroke it.

“I love you,” you murmur as he pulls on your hair, as his nails dig into your skin, and he wants to cry. He will destroy you from the inside out, he knows, or maybe he will kill you before he gets the chance to. He can never keep the things he loves alive.

Your lips kiss his skin, and he moans brokenly as your thumb glides over the head of his cock, pushing down on the tip. His hips rock up to meet your hand, and he feels ashamed of how blatantly he allows himself to enjoy you, how blatantly he allows himself to use you. You deserve so much better, but you are the best thing that he has ever managed to get his bloodstained hands on, and so he can’t help himself. He wants you to remain unaware of how much better you could do. He wants you to stubbornly remain by his side even when he makes it hard for you to do so. He wants to bare every part of his being to you so you can see how little worth he is to you. He wants you to run from him before it’s too late.

But part of him knows he already has shown you himself, that you’ve seen who he is and you still love him. You must be stupid.

“Use me,” he begs you, wishing you’d do something with him to alleviate the guilt he feels, so it would at least be mutual. His hands cling to you, and he whimpers pathetically when you lean back to look down at him. “Use me, please. Please…”

And your eyes are so kind. Your eyes are so sweet and soft and human, and everything he is not.

“Shh,” you hush him, tenderly pressing a kiss to his lips. He sobs, feeling embarrassing tears fill his eyes as you press closer to him, the touch so caring and innocent yet so lewd as your hand tugs at him. “Just let me make you feel good, okay?”

And you do. You always keep true to your words, unlike him. It’s barely a minute later that his breath hitches and he keens, nearly wailing into your neck as he comes undone under your too loving hands. It’s obscene, and he feels filthy as his semen paints your hand and splatters on his lower stomach. He has soiled your perfect skin, has dirtied your perfect body. He hopes you will let go of him and wash yourself up, then leave him here, broken on the bed in the mess he’s created. That you will leave him to pick up the pieces of himself he has left. He is undeserving of you.

And yet he only feels your love swaddle him when his body relaxes, adoring praises and sweet words tumbling from your perfect lips as your perfect hands gently stroke his body, soothing him as if he is deserving. Your perfect body presses closer to him, no doubt getting his mess on your perfect abdomen as you almost lay yourself flat on him. You pepper perfect kisses all over his face, and he realises belatedly he’s crying. For the first time in ten years. Fat tears rolling down his cheeks, and he doesn’t know for what reason.

But you seem like you do know. You look so understanding, wiping his tears with an achingly kind, perhaps slightly sad smile, and you don’t ask him why.

“I’ve got you now, it’s okay,” you say instead. And you do, because you always keep true to your word.

And he is selfish, because he doesn’t stop you. He lets you clean him up, lets you kiss his tears away, lets you take care of him. Lets you climb into bed with him afterwards, unaware that you have brought the monster under your bed up into your loving arms. He hasn’t felt so much love since he was nine.

And he is selfish, because even though he can already feel his claws dig into your flesh as he holds you in return, he cannot bring himself to pull away. He can only hope he won’t dig in his heels when you eventually see reason and try to leave. He can only hope you will have the time to get away before he kills you.

---------------------------------------------------------

My inbox is open, feel free to send in asks or requests, I'd love to ramble about things <3

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Eddie drunkenly calls Buck from wine night, confesses some things. On ao3 here.

Eddie calls him at 11:34 pm, and it’s a Thursday, so that means a few things. It’s wine night, the biggest thing. It’s wine night, at Hen and Karen’s, and he knows those start around dinner time so Eddie’s got several hours of alcohol in him. It’s 11:34 pm and Buck got off work at 10:45, another thing, so it’s a toss up whether Eddie timed the call to when he was walking through the door (a feat possible after years of going back and forth between the station, the loft, and the Diaz house at all times of day and night) or if it’s just a drunken coincidence.

“Hello,” Buck answers the phone, dragging out the first half of the word, tossing his keys into the bowl on the counter.

“Buck,” Eddie says, voice bright and not very slurred, but he’s only said one word so far, and Buck sometimes secretly thinks he could probably say his name pretty steadily no matter the situation. Buck is pretty sure he could be all drunk or half dead and still be able to say Eddie just fine, anyway. “Hello. Are you home from, did you get home from work?”

Ah, so, somewhat drunk then. “Did indeed. You still at the Wilsons?”

“Did you, uh- was there fire?” Eddie sounds like he’s trying very hard to sound normal. Buck bites his lip against a snort.

“No fires. Just a half shift, remember. Pretty boring one, honestly.” I missed you probably isn’t fair to say, Buck covered the shift of his own volition, he could have been at wine night if he really wanted. But Donovan’s sister had a baby, what was he gonna do, not let the guy meet his niece? “Hope you had a better time.”

“Great time,” Eddie says, enthusiastic. “They had, uh, mini quiches.”

Buck grins at the empty room. “You’re a man who loves a mini quiche.”

A few seconds of whooshy silence where Buck assumes Eddie is nodding enthusiastically. “The- uh- they had the bacon kind. The kind, and with the- you know, there’s spinach? Can we go to Costco?”

“Sure,” Buck agrees, opening his admittedly pretty sparsely populated fridge. “Could use a grocery run.”

“And get the, get more quiches?”

Buck grabs a protein bar, smiling as fondly as he wants to with no one around to see him. “Yeah, Eds, we’ll get more quiches.”

“And you’ll take the spinach ones? And I get the good ones?”

Buck laughs. “The spinach ones are good. You can barely even taste the spinach, they’re just, like, warm and eggy.”

“Mmm,” Eddie says, doubtfully. “It’s not nice to lie, Buckley.”

“I’m not fucking lying,” Buck cackles. “Your spinach hatred is so unfair, what’d it ever do to you?”

“Taste bad,” Eddie says, adding a blegh sound for emphasis. “It’s like- like- it’s gross, I don’t believe you actually like it, actually. You just want to eat grown up food.”

Buck snorts. “Man, I hate to break it to you, we both turn 34 this year.”

“And I don’t feel like I have to prove that to anybody by eating nasty food,” Eddie says, nose definitely in the air. Buck shakes his head and takes a bite of the protein bar.

“Whatever, man. You just have to live with the fact that Chris is the one sneaking vegetables into your food.”

“You’re so mean. I’m not letting you have any of my actually good quiches.” Empty threat, they always end up sharing, both of them know it. “That’s not even what I called about. That’s not even-“ Eddie huffs so hard it sounds all crackly in Buck’s ear. “I called to tell you that I love you.”

Buck grins. Oh boy, affectionate drunk Eddie is here. He’d wondered just how much wine they’d got through and it seems like Eddie must be nearly a bottle in. “Aw, love you too, bud.”

“No,” Eddie says, and Buck can see the frown from here. “Buck. Listen. I’m in love with you.”

Oh. God. Oh god. “Uh-“ Buck says, stomach swooping all over the fucking place, “Uh- I don’t think this is a conversation we should be having while you’re-“

“Oh, fuck off, shut up. Shut up. It’s fine.”

“Eddie-”

“Buck,” Eddie says, in the annoyed voice he uses when Buck is trying to get him to eat yogurt with his fruit in the morning, or even a dastardly spinach quiche. “It’s fine. It’s fine. I knew you’d- why- stop it. Listen. I feel like this all the time. It’s stupid that I’ve never, like, I never just say this all the time. You’re, like-”

Eddie cuts himself off and Buck waits — sort of fearfully — for him to continue, but the silence keeps stretching on. Buck knows the other side effect of this level on the Eddie Diaz Drunkenness Scale is heightened distractibility, so he probably noticed a nice color or perhaps a bug. They spent a good twenty minutes hanging out with a grasshopper at Hen and Karen’s wedding towards the end of the night, because it was a lovely shade of green and a funny little guy. Oh god, Buck thinks again. I love this man. I love this man a ridiculous amount and we should absolutely wait to talk about it.

But: “You’re tall and you’re in my house,” Eddie says before Buck can do anything to stop him.

“I’m-” Buck glances around the loft. “Eds, I’m at my place.”

“What?” He sounds so indignant that Buck has to cover his mouth to hold a laugh in. “Why?”

“‘Cause I live here?”

“That’s stupid. You should live with me in my house.”

“Should I?” Buck asks, laugh escaping a little bit. “Also, wait, what does me being tall have to do with it?”

Eddie sighs, long and exasperated. “If you live with me you never have to go home and leave me because you’re already at my house. Your house. If you live with me you never have to go anywhere.”

“Never have to go anywhere?” Buck thinks he’s in shock, maybe, about all of this, but teasing Eddie is something that’s always easy to fall into. “I don’t have a job in this scenario?”

“Well you’d go to work. And other places. But you just come back to me all the time.”

“I’d like to come back to you all the time,” Buck says, choking a little on how simply it explains every ache in him. “Eddie-“

“And you’re tall because… it matters because you’re tall because…” Eddie’s voice is soft, his breathing is soft. Buck wonders where he is in Hen and Karen’s house. In a hallway, tucked away from everyone, the nice light from the stained glass lamp they have there warm on his face? On the back porch, out in the cool night air? Buck wants to tell him to come home, wants to make sure he’s warm. “I never had to look up at anybody before.”

“I’ve got like two inches on you,” Buck replies, but his voice is pretty quiet.

“It’s a big two inches,” Eddie says, just as soft. Then, also quiet but of an entirely different flavor, “That's- Sorry- that's what she said.”

“That's-” Buck snorts. “What-” and then giddy laughter bursts up out of him, baking soda and vinegar, foamy and ticklish. He cackles till he’s breathless, listening to Eddie’s responding chuckles over the line, and sinks down to the floor, back against the kitchen island. “You’re so fucking stupid.”

“I scored better on my certification exams than you.”

“That’s not even true!” Buck protests over Eddie’s continuing laughter. “Only in two categories!”

“Overall percentage was higher!” Eddie reminds him, as he does every time they have this argument.

“Well, I remember building construction and related hazards better than you and that’s written down on official paper somewhere.”

“Not fair,” Eddie says, as he always says. “You- you did- you built those. Unfair advantage.”

“I think you’re overselling the kind of experience I got in a few months working construction like a decade ago.”

“It wasn’t a decade when you took the tests,” Eddie points out. “Whatever. Nevermind. And I don’t want to sound like- you’re good at remembering things. You’re not stupid. I don’t want to sound like you are.”

Buck taps his boot against the sink counter in front of him. “I know. You’re not either.”

“I know,” Eddie says, soft again. “But your hands are big, and… you’ve got stubble sometimes, and…” he trails off into just breathing on the other end of the line for several long moments. “Buck,” Eddie whispers in sleepover voice. “Have you ever kissed a boy before?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, knowing Eddie knows this, but playing along anyway. “I have.”

“What's it like?”

Buck hums, closes his eyes. He thinks about the few guys he’d made out with but never followed home when he got to Los Angeles. Thinks about the room he’d crashed in with Connor in Peru, with it’s one mattress and both their clothes living in suitcases because they were too broke to buy any other furniture. He’s still got a t-shirt for a school he never went to, a few sizes too small. The way they hadn’t shared a room once they were in LA, the girls Connor started seeing. He thinks about John from the ranch who left town the next day. He thinks about high school, Len McGuinty under the bleachers in the summer before senior year, both of them giggling and half terrified and the way they’d pretended to barely know each other when school started back up. Hard jawlines and stubble and muscles and height. Having something, for however long you get to have it. Wanting something, very badly. He opens his eyes and it’s almost a surprise that he’s still in the loft. That he’s not at Eddie’s house. All the time in the world there wouldn’t be enough. “It’s good, Eddie. It feels good.”

“Buck,” Eddie breathes, shivery.

“I want to live in your home all the time, and never have to go anywhere,” Buck says, repeats. “I’ll kiss you, if you want.”

“Buck-”

“I’ll love you, if you want.” Eddie is still drunk, Buck tries to remind himself. But it might actually kill him not to say it out loud when Eddie had said he feels like this all the time. How could he not say he feels like this all the time, too? “I’ll love you back. I love you back. I’ll eat all the spinach quiches for you.”

“Buck,” Eddie says, and Buck doesn’t know what expression is on his face, doesn’t know what look is tied to this tone of voice. Is desperate to find out. Quiet down the line for a few moments. And then: “It’s late.”

Buck pulls his phone away from his ear for a second to check the time. Nearly midnight. “Yeah.” His hands feel clammy. It was too much. They should have waited to talk. Eddie wants out now, and that’s fine. Buck will —somehow, skin of his teeth — find a way to be fine with that.

But: “I want to go home,” Eddie says. “Buck. Come and take me home.”

“And then-”

“And then stay.”

“Okay,” Buck gets to his feet, tosses the half eaten bar in the trash. Eddie’s house has food. His home has things to eat.

“Okay,” Eddie says, confident now, everything decided, everything for sure. “I’ll see you soon.

“Minutes,” Buck says, grabbing his keys, half running to the door. “I’ll be there in minutes.”

“Minutes,” Eddie says back. And Buck can hear his smile.

[elshe]

What would you guys like to see from me??

I’ve come out of my dry spell and all I’ve wanted to do is draw ALL DAY!!! 😭😭 I’m freakin PUMPED. I’ve got my iPad on bright mode and my pencil warmed in my hand. Nothing can stop me.

Tell me what Hiccstrid/HTTYD/The Gang/any other Httyd related things you’d like to see me draw! I’ll pick my favorites and draw them for you. This is your motherfuckin chance. Speak now or forever hold your peace.

Send the requests in my inbox pretty please thanks!! I love you!!

[spect-era]

If you’re still taking requests, maybe a fluffy moment of Copia playing cards with Rain and Phantom?…both ghouls ain’t all that good at the game, but they’ll play a game with their papa to make him happy!

The game started out fine !!

[bullborn]

Danganronpa THH character portraits pt. 2

[gimmick-thief]

Bro I was snooping so much Tumblr just sent me straight to the homepage. The Linus Dimension if you will. Anyways can you give me an @achivement-unlocked for that?

Achievement unlocked!

Time Out

Even [tumblr] told you to calm down.

[ynhart]

I have a special prayer request. Today is the anniversary of my mom's death. Can I ask for some prayers?

[aellivi]

Still figuring out how I want to draw this guy.

[zevrra]

I loved those headcanons about Joel, and I was wondering if you could write some more about him... maybe more headcanons or a drabble about Joel eating out his girl? 👀

tags: 18(+), mdni, very nsfw, suggestive content, fem!reader, m/f oral sex, mention of fingering, mention of overstimulation, mention of edging, age gap, anon request, short & sweet

creator notes: sorry this took awhile to answer anon!! i hope you enjoy though! i def had fun writing this little thing for joel……maybe a part 2 will be in the works soon…>:3

A strong hand presses against your hip, pinning you right down to the mattress of the bed you currently lay back on. While his other hand grips your thigh to keep your legs from closing shut tight around Joel’s head. It was his hands that kept you from wiggling away too much. Nestled between your thighs, Joel’s tongue licks a trail across your pussy as his eyes stare directly up at you. Those damned brown eyes could speak a thousand words even with his mouth currently full.

You don’t know how long it’s been, how long since he sank between your thighs to eat you out like a starving man. Time didn’t exist when he lapped at your pussy the way he did. The only thing you were sure of was the scratch of his beard with every shift of his jaw and how good he was making you feel.

“Darlin’,” Joel groans against your lower half. You can barely see in the dim light when he flicks his pretty brown eyes up at you. Wants to make sure you know he’s watching you every second he pleases you. “Quit your squirming.” He adds. You can feel him smirk against your skin, squeezing your thigh as a small warning. As if you could stop your body from twitching while his tongue pressed right up against your clit.

You can’t help the moan that tumbles from your lips as his tongue dances across your soaking wet core. Your fingers grip at the sheets beneath you, pulling the fabric as tight as you can to keep yourself tethered to this world. Fearing you might fall head first into oblivion with the pleasure coursing through your veins. Your chest is tight with your second, or maybe this was your third, impending climax.

“Don’t talk with your—fuck—mouth full!” You manage to say. Teasing him the best you could under the circumstances.

Joel laughs at your snarky comment, gathering spit up with his tongue and pressing it directly in between your lips. Using his spit to slip his tongue inside of you in one swift motion. Quickly, while you pathetically moan, Joel replaces his tongue with a single finger. Pushes his finger swiftly inside your pussy up to his second knuckle. Slowly he begins to thrust his finger inside of you. Draws it out and slips it back in at a steady pace, while his tongue returns to press and suck on your clit.

The sensation is tormenting. The slow draw of his thick finger prodding inside of you with the fast flick of his tongue left you panting and breathless. The feeling overstimulates you in the best way. The ache for more all the while being too much; it all builds a sweet storm inside your lower half. And at this point, you’re far too sensitive to last.

His pace never falters as he lures you closer and closer to your end. Your third, or fourth, orgasm is hurriedly coming in like a crashing wave. Your body tenses up tight as spring, causing you to throw your head back with a broken moan. Pleasure turns your blood into liquid lava as you seek for your orgasm. “Joel, god, Joel I’m—“ You cry his name as the spring inside of you winds up tighter, and tighter, and tighter; threatening to snap with your orgasm.

Instead at the last second, just before you can fully enjoy your pleasure seeking climax, Joel stripes you of it. Removing his mouth and his fingers away from your aching pussy with a devilish smirk.

You whimper at the loss of your orgasm as your body trembles from your denied high. You turn your head to the side with a sharp, desperate whine escaping your lips. With ease, Joel kisses at your inner thigh. His grip on your other thigh and the one at your hip loosens as he soothingly now rubs into your skin.

“Joel!” You complain with a whine of his name, pouting right at him when you finally manage to look down at him and his comfy spot between your thighs. And as you find his gaze, those deep brown eyes of his stare right into your soul. A fire of passion raged inside of him; just as much as it did inside of you.

“You better ask nicely if ya want me to keep going baby.” Joel responds with a deep chuckle. Kissing dangerously close to where his lips had previously just been but not close enough to continue with pleasing you.

Of course now of all times he was planning to tease you. To drag this out further and further, edge you longer and longer until you finally break and beg him to fuck you.

God, you were in for a very long night.

[dusty-pistol]

Okay, here's a list of Dialtown character requests/refs that I have done/need to do! I'll make this like a lil series since it's fun =3. Also, feel free to leave requests on this post, too, and I'll add em to the list!

Please read the tags of this post for more info!!

[★ done]

[☆ not done]

Harry Fitzgerald★, Oliver Swift★, Abel Brannigan★, Jerry Gould★, Jake Wilson☆, Karen Dunn☆, Mr. Dickens☆, Theoroar Rustlebelt☆, Stabby (+ Shooty)★, Narrator☆, Fusco☆, Bigfoot☆, Bunny☆, Type/Phonegingi☆,

[dirtgrubber]

normal behavior

[canon-gabriel-quotes]

Transcript:

Benjamin, you are worthy in the eyes of God.

It is said amongst all the angels that of all the creatures available on earth and above and below, through all of creation, through all of life!

You are God’s favorite.

And I would think it’s so cool for you to come over sometime and we could hang out on the couch and order a pizza, and maybe watch some anime together.

It’s been a while since I rewatched Gurren Lagann.

So maybe this weekend if you’re not to busy, you could pop by.

But no pressure or anything I know we’re all very busy these days.

Thank you, Benjamin. I love you.

Audio source

[apparently-artless]

⚾⚾ WEEK #04 OF #WEEKLYDAIYA ⚾⚾

Daiya no Ace - A Mini Collection of Sawamura Calling Coach Kataoka "Boss" in Every Season ↳ requested by Nedzi (@inahochi)

[k1tty5]

buncha tangos