#shylie.

[lasagnelover420]

Guys she's literally fluttering and is shy

She has bean filled hooves and antennas keeping her on the grouunddfffgh.

[ghuleh-recs]

aw shucks.

(for @conjuring-ghouls ♡)

[conceived-angel]

i love this tiktok so much it's so establishedrelationship!sydcarmy core. like i know half of sydney's drafts look like this

[tojisun]

oral fixation is going hard right now so thinking about price pushing down on your tongue with his thumb, humming to himself because he is pleased as he inspects you.

you don’t even know how it began, only remembering how you clambered to your knees when he barked out the orders. he said to stay there on the floor; to practice obedience. he asked, “you do know how to be good, right?”

it was a knifed taunt that dragged on your spine, making you tremble. of course you wanted to prove to him that you could be; that whatever perfect image of docility was in his head, you could do it better. that you could be more.

but your subservience was only met with quiet mirth before he finally stalked towards you, the smell of tobacco sticking to him heavily. he stopped just right before you, tipping his head down as he appraised you with silent judgement. then, he cupped your jaw with his callused hand and said to open wide.

you did, watching with trembling eyes when he fed you his thumb.

and here you are, shaking, tethered only by his presence.

the taste of salt spreads on your tongue and your nose scrunches without much thought. john chuckles, amused, and continues to press in more; to dig deeper. it is only when his hand is dimpling your cheek, and his thumb is brushing against the back of your throat, that he stops.

then, he smiles, gentle and kind, with his eyes crinkled softly, and rumbles, “you always did look the loveliest when y’r mouth is stuffed, sweetheart.”

[eliseliedl]

# I AM SERIOUS

[comfortless]

Dungeoneer!König and his gf... I mean, traveling companion

but really this is how most of their practicing plays out. 😵‍💫

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. sliiiight dubcon, breathplay?, masochism (without real injury), masturbation, oral (m receiving), absolutely unhinged “flirting”.

König knows his way around a blade. From the delicate daggers that thieves pluck from cloaks when the chance to strike is opportune, to the curved, dainty shashkas. His favorite would always be the doppelhänder, long things that strike fear into any man who sees it swung toward him. It’s why he chose to pay good money for one now, tossed a sack of gold at the blacksmith’s feet and demanded to have an exceptional blade crafted for him within a fortnight or so.

He really can’t afford to be too choosy nowadays: he doesn’t live on his own anymore. Before, his course was decided by tattered parchment pinned to whichever acceptable sliver of wood a wandering messenger could find. Now, it’s dictated entirely by the little knight who parades around like the finest tease in all the land. Even the world, he would gamble.

She whispers molten sugar into his ear on nights she’s drunk, lonely or especially sympathetic. Perhaps all three. She climbs into his bed: a tattered, linen sheet on the rough, cold ground most nights. Sometimes, it’s softer, a feather-stuffed mattress at an inn. Those always reeked of sin. Something carnal right where a couple must have lain together only a night prior, yet to be drowned out and washed away in the streams by some hapless innkeeper. It’s all went to his head, more than a little.

The lady knight sits across from him, tapping the rim of her mug of ale with such disinterest on her face that it’s König who feels sympathetic now.

She chose this tawdry place. Chose to don some silly armor and pretend it’s taking her to kneel in service to the King. The jobs never dwindle, but the motivation does. She never knows what she truly needs, but König always seems to.

“You want to fight? Me?,” she asks, to the wooden table rather than to him. Sluggish and gloomy with her own disappointment in this place, her own perceived shortcomings, something that he can’t fix. The King should have his head on a spear for not giving her everything she’s ever asked for, woman and benevolent thief or not.

“It has been a while, hm?”

She nods once, curls her mouth into a subtle smile that sends his heart swooping and something stirring down below.

“I suppose I’ve gotten comfortable.”

He knows well enough that he can make her less so, always seemed to with his groping and hovering. Even if she’s fed into it, a moth to flame, he’s never seen her bed anyone this entire aimless journey. It’s the rush of adrenaline that sends fire into her belly, makes her eyes shine and her legs tremble each time, never the flirtations.

König’s yet to win a bet, but this time he would wager that playing nice won’t grant him a thing. It never has with what’s dwelling in each dark corner of the kingdom’s underbelly, and it never has with her.

So when the sparring begins this time, it’s real.

The look of shock and betrayal comes immediate when she’s easily knocked back, her blade landing in the grass at her side.

“Again.” And again, and again, she says it as though the exhaustion isn’t already evident in the way her breathing grows heavy. Each time it’s the same, because the only thing he holds back from is severely wounding her. Even if he could, even if he knows roughing her up a bit is just how this should go.

“You are tired,” he observes, cocking his head to the side as she scrambles to search for her sword beneath the dim light of the moon. “Do you need a break, little knight?”

The look she shoots him is something akin to scandalized. König’s never been the one to taunt her like this. It’s new and tentative, and he prays it’s something she likes. The dresses and sparkling gifts from the dungeons did fuck all for any sort of progression, and by the end of the night she would know how dull all of this has become to him, too.

“I am not—“ A parry, a feint, a jab that lands on the air rather than striking true. Not enough. “I’m fine.”

It’s never been in this impromptu plan to shove her down, but that’s what happens when she doesn’t take it seriously. She moves towards him again. Steel clatters against steel, sinks forgotten into the grass. With a hand adhered to the back of her thigh and another at curve of her back, he drops her down too. No briny sweat clings to his temple, all of this is more simple than even the training he had as boy.

She doesn’t even kick at him, docile as any doe when she makes the assumption that all of this is playing pretend. Just another game: he’s less fit to be a monster than even the weak things dwelling in the dark in her eyes.

“I do not want your mercy,” he growls against her neck, weaves his fingers into her hair and tugs her head to the side. Just a little. Just enough. “Be sincere. Hurt me.”

“What are you talking about?” Her voice is a mere peep, lost to the wind that whips by and tousles all but the man affixed to her.

Explanations have never come easy for König. Not with words, not even with letters. He’s killed men without telling why, left wandering ghosts and their wives bereaved time and time again. It’s not something worthy of an answer, nor a thing he ever thought she would even ask. It’s never questions with her: only orders. Even a tamed horse can lash out, kick its master right off to trample if it sees fit. König is no different.

He licks a stripe up her throat, relishes in the way her breath catches and her hands rise to dig nails into his arms. His teeth catch right along her jaw, inhales against her cheek, and when she grows tense below him, claws her way down to his forearms, he knows she’s finally well aware of how this ends.

His hands study the expanse of her body, fisting the linen of her tunic upward to reveal all soft flesh and no more tricks. There’s an aching bruise on her neck, chest, below her ribs before the knight finally presses her palm to his forehead and kicks a rib to wind herself away.

“You’re so…” The word she searches for dies on her tongue when she scrambles over him, feels how greedy he truly is when his hips tilt skyward and the throbbing erection presses against her rear.

“Stupid, hm? Say it.”

She curls a hand around his throat and squeezes, her eyelids sinking to shield the dazed glimmer there as he slips a hand into the front of her trousers. A callused thumb brushes over her clit before drifting further, down where he realizes that he’s found a new treasure. She’s already wet.

“You are. Big fool. Brute..,” she grits out, delivers another blessed press of her hand. All another feint, because she remains stationed above him. Even mimicking the groan that rattles his throat beneath her palm with a sigh of her own. “I could kill you. You know that I…”

The knight dips her head to press against his chest as he spears a thick finger into her, and a greed surges through him at this sudden compliance. Poor thing is so winded that she does little else than blanket him and shiver whilst he grins as though he’s devil-possessed or the luckiest filth in the world. The thought of her fitting any cock- let alone his- seems unimaginable, so obscenely tight as she squeezes around one digit that it pulls even an appreciative grunt from him.

“You could try it.”

Her fingers dig into the skin at his neck, and none of it is enough. She’s so gentle with him, because maybe she even believes that she could. Killing wild men without masters or loyalties, just like the men in the stories she fancies. König guides a hand up to help her, presses down around his throat with more ferocity as she lifts her head and stares down at him like he’s truly gone mad.

“You want a leash..?,” she huffs, pretends she isn’t leaking onto his hand.

“Only if this—“ Another finger, a deliberate curl of both as they press to something soft deep inside of her. Something that makes her whimper rather than bark. “—is holding it.”

She only looks at him, sulky and humiliated when she’s pleasured, stumbles over some other mumbled insult as her back begins a slow arch. He guides his hand back to her thigh, pets along her softness and watches her with such adoration, a pleased purr rumbling in his chest.

“Look at you… cute thing.”

“Not a thing.” Her hissing only further goads him, because she does nothing to pull away, can hardly meet his eyes even with fire and hatred on her tongue.

“Ja… meine dame, is that right?”

Her breath catches as she grinds herself where she’s been impaled, legs trembling as his thumb brushes over the bud in repetition. It’s too soon, but he allows her to have her rapture, gaze drifting from her hair to the curve of a hip as her cunt gives a greedy pulse. All armor is shredded and ripped away, no defenses, catapults or blades, all are exchanged for soft cries and a burning ache. The hurried breaths she takes come almost stilted as she gives his fingers another generous squeeze, and he only feeds them into her with unhurried hunger.

“I want to feel it,” he huffs into her hair, savors the way she tightens the grip around his throat until his voice fetters to a whisper. “Just once, please.”

“No… not..,” is all she manages before the wave reaches the shoreline and she unravels over him. He feels the walls of her cunt throb as her head ascends to his shoulder, burying herself there in shame or bliss. The orgasm is soon but drawn out, some pent up need finally freed to open air, the very same longing that remains prevalent and urging inside of him. He fucks her through it with a bitter fervor, spearing and scissoring the fingers inside until her thigh draws up from around him and she detaches entirely to sit up at his side.

König is quick to rise before her, already untying the laces of what keeps him from the hope of sharing that same rapture she must have felt. The little knight only stares up at him with perplexed curiosity as his cock springs free, thick and long and angry after so many long months of suffering a callused fist or neglect. The tip drags over the seam of her lips as he takes the base of it into his palm, and the drooling maw above her only groans at the barest sensation.

“I will bite it off,” she declares, follows it up with a charming grin as though she hadn’t bruised him deeply hundreds of times prior to this.

“Ja, after… I don’t care.” And of course he does, but this is the closest he’s gotten to anything and he would be a fool not to take it, teeth or not.

She swallows pensively, then rolls her tongue over the slit of the enraged weapon in her face. Beads of salt aren’t fitting for a woman’s tongue, he knows, feels horribly dirty and miserable at the sight for a mere second before she takes him in earnest. Her lips wrap around him, send sparks of the purest euphoria through him.

“Is this how to shut you up, meine dame?”

Everything is gilded gates and ethereal meadows, the only damnation he suffers is the fact that he can’t move without bruising her: too big to feed himself down her throat, too untamed to hold himself steady should she ever allow it. He settles for her pace, watches in wonder as she allows half of him to reach into the warmth of her throat. The panting beast above her curls his hands into fists at his sides, certain that touching her would be the end of this boon of fortune.

Her tongue flicks over the weeping tip each time she draws back, hands grasping at his thighs to keep herself upright. Even when her teeth graze over the sensitive flesh, the cock in her mouth only twitches in agonized bliss. He melts before her, trembling in such pleasured fury that his nails threaten to break through the hardened skin of his palms.

“Ha… I need to… I’m going to come.” Only then does he reach for the back of her neck, forcing her in place to bear the taste of what’s to come. She doesn’t fight it, gazes up with a furrowed brow and delivers the gentlest bite along him. A warning or a dare. “Next time will be… fuck…”

Her titan crumbles before her as though wounded, can’t keep his hands in place then as he grasps at her face and his body grows taut. His hips press forward only to stutter as he tries in earnest to keep himself somewhat contained. She gags quietly when the thick ropes of seed meet the end of her, abrupt but as endless as the broken, pitiful noises that rise from his chest then. It’s miraculous how she swallows it all, bitter and hot as it spills in generous spurts.

It’s he who pulls back, giving the cock already softening a few more pulls before collapsing in front of her with acute love tucked away behind the glassy blue of his eyes. His little knight could feign indifference all she liked, but even those pretty tavern wenches and noble pricks she bats her lashes at could never have had a taste of what had just occurred here.

She wipes away spit and come with the back of her hand, tries her best to shoot him a look of disgust, but König does not miss the way that her eyes seem to twinkle in the same way his do now.

“I want to taste you, too,” he rasps, chest still rising and falling with rushed intakes of air. Even after he can’t keep himself from ruining any bit of sanctity or sanity within reach. Punctuates his statement by reaching toward her again, only to be pulled into the comfort of an awkwardly positioned embrace. His face lands against her breasts, and though he languidly runs a hand up her back, the other takes a tit. He toys with her in his palm, brushes a thumb over her nipple and rises up to kiss her cheek, silent pleas.

“You’ve had enough fun,” she answers, pulling his hand away with their fingers intertwined.

“You have more than just a mouth.” He flashes her the biggest, wettest puppy eyes he can manage. That may get him a scrap from her plate, but it’s worth nothing here. “I would make a good vater, yes?”

[doctors-star]

thinking about how the watch books and the moist books are all about the city, and what would happen if it was moist given charge of the city watch and vimes working in the post office. the easy answer is obviously that it wouldn't work; lipwig's heart lies in selling sizzle, whereas vimes' primary interest is ascertaining where the sausage was on the night in question. but i'm compelled by moist looking at criminality from the other side - it's the same thought process, but the criminal should end up inside the cell, the patrician beams - suddenly faced more often with the consequences of petty crimes, with the victims, with the messy nasty aftermath. vimes, drunk and depressed in a dead-end job in the post office, which no-one uses or respects anyway, seeing the next postmaster die and hearing about the clacksmen dying and deciding: no more. moist would think carrot was his parole officer; vimes would struggle, somewhat, with a nine foot man of clay hiding the bearhuggers all the time. the watch would be shiny and sexy and the post office wouldn't be, not at all, but there would be a very angry man hauling letters about the place, mumbling to himself about setting them on fire because he's not having someone else's words in his damn head. the summoning dark wouldn't like lipwig; he knows its tricks. moist wouldn't arrest an army, or the patrician, because he doesn't believe in the law that way, but he'd talk everyone into such confusion that they'd forget what he was ambassadoring for in the first place. vimes wouldn't race the clacks, but he'd check the vault for gold properly when he took on the bank and get its previous owners arrested, causing widespread chaos and giving lipwig a headache. it'd work out of sheer bloody-mindedness and love of the city and it would shake out all wrong - but it would shake out nonetheless.

also lipwig would think it was so funny, being head cop, and vimes would love playing with trains. they deserve that.

[v1v1dstreet]

my little karakuri pierrot

(click 4 better quality + rb mayhaps?)

[toxicanonymity]

I want you to know I love and care about y'all and am deeply sorry and disturbed about how the u.s. election turned out.

I love those of you who are immigrants, trans, POC, non-binary, gender fluid, gay, bi, pan, two-spirit, gender nonconforming, intersex, disabled, unhoused, struggling with addiction, mental health, bad home life, abuse, SA survivors, childfree, women, people who can get pregnant, and anyone who doesn't fit sick fascist ideals. And I Iove all of you who love them. You're all special and I value you.

We have 2.5 months until inauguration. I understand the sense of dread, and I feel it too. Even if I don't feel hopeful, I'm staying open to the possibility of hope. We need it. Maybe we need anger, too. These things can coexist.

abortion resources

Let's be kind to ourselves rn. You deserve kindness. No judgment if you have a history of self destructive behavior. I've been there. Terrible events don't have to derail us. We persist in spite of them. I'm proud of you for hanging in there and finding healthy ways to cope right now.

I always want this blog to be a safe space. I block liberally. I won't allow judgmental comments on posts or debate in my asks.

Need an appearance from your favorite morally dubious or murderous man? I will be open to requests for blurbs/microfics. Update: See pinned post for the fics.

[eggwishing]

short & stout rose And awkward and gangly dave >>>> i think rose would move with a ferocity like she could accidwntally bump her elbow onto the corner of a table and the table would crumble . dave posture’d be so rigid that he’d fall like a tree and shatter like glass from a light breeze

[burekstation]

bro jonathan harker watched his last act of rebellion go down in flames before his very eyes by a terrorizing vampire after a month of torture, fell into more depression for a few days and went anyways. let's get ready to do this again. man's a freak. man's a freak and it's only the beginning. you've been revoked from all right to say ''he cannot be in this adaption much he's boring 🤓" listen. he's terrified all the time doing the opposite of manfully machoing and refuses to torturously brood too much or get all cynical yet he's got a brand of crazy to compete with mad scientists. he just keeps going back. don't touch me.

[roadtovanaheim]

"i wish i knew how to quit you." ( brokeback mountain AU )

[canisalbus]

I want you to know that your art is very important to me, and I'm very invested in all of the characters I have seen from you. Also, the discussion about Finnish and other languages having gendered words or not has been the last little push to get me to start learning Finnish which I think is fun.

I'm making this a little compilation post of all the language asks I got. Thank you for sharing, this was genuinely really interesting!

[unknowntalesbymiles]

[lunarharp]

Scrappiiiees i love kitchen :)

[vellichorsdesire]

f/o having a nickname for you that they’re only allowed to call you and nobody else ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^