#stfu!!

[jawlipops]

feeling 8 emotions at once rn

[witheredoffherwitch]

"Your coven needs more numbers"

Sure, I am not arguing that we are fewer than ideal -- BUT if we are 50, y'all are at most 170! The audacity to suggest that you're the hottest ticket in town when Lucemond exists as a blazing star soaring above us both.

[identitty-dickruption]

it’s not transphobic to talk about intersex issues without also mentioning the needs of dyadic trans people. I say this a trans person myself. we are allowed to talk about being intersex without wanting another dyadic trans person coming along and making it about themselves

[freakylilnutjob]

shared too much info and now I hate myself

[strideofpride]

“In North Korea, there’s no sun. They got rid of the sun. Cause communism”

[vithcy]

Most powerful people in the world:

Stop motion artists

Miniature Artists

The chocolate guy

Hijabi Cosplayers

[agustdsciggy]

How else? HOW ELSE?!? 😂 I love this so much. Thank you.

Shut Up! || A KNJ Drabble

(banner by @itaeewon - thank you jen, especially for the super fast turn-around!!)

Title: Shut Up!

Summary: Once Namjoon’s on a roll about something, there’s really only one sure-fire way to shut him up. Ironically, it isn’t his mouth that needs to be full.

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (no gender mentioned) Genre: NSFW - minors begone!!!!, pwp (who tf am i omg), married!au WC: 1.4k Warnings: language, kissing, oral (m. receiving), maybe a lil dumbification im not actually sure, bodily fluids very present, i guess reader is a bit dom? 

A/N: I DON’T KNOW WHO WROTE THIS, I WAS POSSESSED, THERE IS NO JO HERE. 🙈 

Also, this is ENTIRELY @here2bbtstrash’s fault, or at least this anon’s fault!!!!

Thank you @kookstempo for the beta job!!!!! 🦃 💕💕💕💕

“Oh my god,” you lament, throwing your head back into the plush couch behind it, eyes rolling back, breath escaping you in one short huff. And not even for the good reasons. 

Though… there’s an idea.

“What?” Your husband looks at you innocently, eyes a little wide at your uncharacteristic outburst. “What’s wrong?”

“I love you,” you say, fighting back a smile. His eyebrows raise a little; you’ve been together long enough that he knows this must be coming first to soften a blow. “I love hearing your thoughts. I love that we can share our thoughts with each other.”

“But?” he chimes in intuitively, chin starting to jut, anticipating defensiveness.

You gesture at the tv a little wildly. “But we paused the episode because you had something to say about it forty-two minutes ago. I timed it!”

He blinks at you, like this cannot possibly be true. 

“Okay,” he says slowly, “but the thing is–”

“No!” you cry, tossing the remote onto the coffee table and sitting up to look at him. You have officially hit your breaking point. “Namjoon, no! Please - let me put the show back on.”

“Okay,” he repeats, “but -”

“No!” you shriek, and then you scramble up his tree of a body and press your nose to his, bumping his glasses so they’re slightly askew. Against his lips, you whisper, “Shut up, shut up, for the love of God, shut up.”

His hands come and rest low on your hips, practically on your ass, and he gives your nose a little nudge with his own, his lips pressing to yours - not so much a kiss as a fumble. 

“It’s just that -” he mumbles against your mouth, and you know - you know - he’s fucking with you on purpose, now. He’s hard beneath you already; he knows as well as you do what you’re planning.

“Shut up,” you tell him again, kissing him in earnest this time, your fingers going for the hem of his t-shirt. He takes off his glasses and tosses them blindly towards the coffee table, then lifts his arms so you can pull the fabric around his head. 

You go for his joggers next, and he lifts up eagerly as you slide them and his boxers down in one go. He kicks the black material free from his ankles and spreads his legs a little without you even telling him to, knowing exactly what’s coming.

Five years of marriage will do that; he knows the steps of this dance well, just like you know that the second your mouth is around him, you’re only getting one syllable words out of him until it’s done. It’s the only truly effective way to shut this man up.

You slide your hands up the insides of his thighs, pressing your nails in just a bit as you do. Namjoon hisses, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. You reach for the base of him, purposely brushing your fingertips along his balls on their way by, just lightly enough to leave a tingle, to make him shiver. 

You pump him once, twice, as you settle on your stomach between his legs, and glance up to see how he’s doing. He’s looking down at you, those eyes dark and glinting sharply, and he brushes one hand over the top of your head as he exhales, waiting. 

He doesn’t say a word. What a good boy. 

You lick thick stripes from the base, stopping before the head each time - just to tease him. Just to build it up. He grunts each time you stop short, but when you pump him again - now slicked with spit - he sighs in relief, letting out a wispy, “God, yeah,” on a breath.

You reward him by wrapping your lips around his tip, tonguing his slit for the barest second before sliding further down his shaft, your hand working the part you haven’t reached just yet. 

In all honesty, sloppy blowjobs aren’t usually your thing. You love to go down on Namjoon, love to hear what sounds you can pull from him, love to watch his eyebrows furrow and his adam’s apple bob. But messy, not usually. Special occasions only. 

Tonight feels special. Tonight you have a goal. You want to render this genius man absolutely stupid. You want him to be devoid of any words that aren’t your own name.

You work both hand and mouth over him, the glide smooth as you let spit past your lips on each pass. 

“Fuck,” Namjoon gasps as you tongue the underside of his cock on a downward pass.

You hum happily, setting a steady rhythm, hollowing your cheeks and swallowing him down just a bit more each time. When your lips’ seal around him breaks, releasing a wet, sloppy slurping noise through the otherwise quiet room, Namjoon groans above you. 

“God,” he utters again, his voice so low you feel it in your toes, and you lift your eyes to take him in. His chest is flushed dark, heaving. The fingers of one hand twist in the throw blanket on the arm of the couch behind him, the other hovers near you, like he wants to touch but doesn’t want to break the spell. 

You relax your jaw and take him down as far as you can, using both hands to hold his trembling thighs in place as you bring your nose closer and closer to his stomach. Once you’ve taken him as far as you’re able, you hold him there, your throat spasming around him. He whines, which almost makes you laugh, so you release him with a messy pop, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Shit, shit,” he gasps, the muscles in his stomach rippling beautifully. You take him in your hand again as you catch your breath, let your throat recover for a second. 

You smile deviously, and purr, “Not so much to say now, hmm?”

His eyes fly open, disbelieving, his mouth falling open to gasp his next breath. His eyes flutter closed again as you continue to glide your hand from base to tip and back, and he shakes his head weakly, voice broken as he manages, “N-no. Fuck.”

You take him in your mouth again, hand keeping a steady but lazy rhythm at the base, reveling in the noises that drip from his mouth - desperate pants punctuated sharply by deep grunts as he fights to control himself, the curses he mumbles, barely audible, sharp consonants tripping out of his mouth as his abs flex in time with your movements.

You know he’s close when he starts bucking minutely into the heat of your mouth, staccato grunts morphing into long, legato groans. This is one of your favorite iterations of your husband - fucked out, eyes squeezed shut, sweat rolling from his brow into his dampened hairline, his brain finally silenced as he chases the feeling, chases his high. 

His hand comes to your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he moans wordlessly. You take the warning seriously, popping off his tip and speeding up your hand as his feet press into the couch desperately, hips bucking just a little. You’re sure he’d rather come in your mouth, but you’re feeling selfish tonight. You want to see what he gives you.

His moan warbles, volume increasing as his hand tightens in your hair, and then he’s releasing rope after rope of cum; most of it lands on the flat of his stomach, but the last bit dribbles down the side of his softening cock, running over your fingers. Your slow your hand, watching his face carefully, until you can tell he’s spent. 

You give a self-satisfied hum, sitting back on your haunches to admire your handiwork. He opens one eye blearily, a smile coming over his face. 

“Okay,” he breathes, laughing a little. “I’m done talking now.”

eeeeeeep!!!! hope you enjoyed thank you for reading!!!!!

[asteroidaffection]

i don’t like being perceived but i do love being adored

[moonlit-typewriter]

“Percy being traumatized for 7 minutes” compilations this and “Percy nearly dying for 5 minutes straight” videos that.

Nah, I can’t wait for “Percy having problems with authority for 10 whole minutes”

[carmen-berzattos]

babe wake up, new renaissance painting just dropped

[solongllondon]

suzanne collins coming back to make her point even more this time around bc people are still too ignorant to get it god i would die for this woman

[edelgarfield]

essek in aeor: this is where 💖my partner💖 and I almost died this is where 💖my partner💖 got turned into a sheep this is where 💖my partner💖 and i bent the fabric of reality to our will this is where 💖my partner💖 and i kissed for the first time this is where...

[disgustinggf]

Where am I cumming?

to your senses hopefully

[misteria247]

I'm going to throw something and become violently ill

Ford was so on edge, like he was pacing and all tense and then Stanley touched his shoulder. And like immediately Ford relaxes, his posture loses some of the stiffness it had. He stopped pacing, and just let's Stan touch him.

Even when he's losing his fucking mind, hasn't slept in God knows how long, and he's mad at his brother, Stanford still finds comfort in Stanley. Even after everything and all the hurt and miscommunication between them, Stanford still essentially trusts his brother when it really counts. Stan gives Ford comfort and the feeling of safety with just a gentle hand on the shoulder and a concerned "Easy there, let's talk this through." That's all it takes to get Ford to stop everything.

Fuck these two I hate (affectionate) them so much 😭

[vithcy]

Percy with a cap that says women and men want me, fish respect me

[modawg]

guys i know we all talk abt how sally would react to percy’s tattoo but like

what abt his scars from tartarus😟

like could you imagine the last time you see your son yk he’s got some cuts and scars but he doesn’t wear a shirt when he’s swimming maybe he wears a muscle tee on occasion maybe sometimes on hot summer days when the AC doesn’t work he doesn’t really wear a shirt at all bc he’s at home with his family and he’s a teenager who gives af

then he’s gone for like 7ish months and when he gets back suddenly everything’s different he’s always covered up never really wanting to show off and you don’t really understand until he’s sleeping on the couch and his shirts a little disheveled so you walk over to fix him up and put a blanket on him and maybe take a pic bc that’s your son and you notice smth pinky and puffy on his skin so you lift it up a little further and he has claw marks stab marks deep cuts everywhere

up until this point you leave everything up to him what he wants to tell you when he wants to tell you or even if he ever will tell you

he wakes up screaming having trouble breathing he sobs into your arms when you go to his room and even when he falls asleep at the dining room table while attempting to study he wakes up holding the closest pen to him like a sword

7 months of his life blipped away and this is how he comes back :( like that’s so sad

added angst