#v; Adult

[sinxbound]

SMASH for Akira, but he already knows that, doesn't he?

( @hirayatiics)

( @hirayatiics )

Send in 'SMASH' if your muse would sleep with mine if they could or send 'PASS' if not | Accepting

"'Course I do! And you're all mine. I know what you've been doing when I'm away, Sammy.~"

[rabbitbled]

@healiotrope said: ❛ you know you can always talk to me. ❜

There's a wave of uncertainty, doubt. But just as much, there was still that desire to take the hand extended to her, Lottie cared. Lottie had always cared, maybe even despite all better judgement. It had always been easier to simply push people away, to push her away. By now Shauna felt like everything was bursting at the seams, the neatly sewn up life she had tried to create for herself, it was all falling apart. Part of her thinks it was always going to, maybe even was certain of it. She lets out a deep breath, "I just...I don't know really. It feels like everything is completely out of control. I feel completely out of control."

[zinniajones]

We won! After more than a year since the passage of SB 254, nurse practitioners can prescribe HRT to trans adults in Florida again 💊💉🧑‍⚕️✌️ https://storage.courtlistener.com/recap/gov.uscourts.flnd.460963/gov.uscourts.flnd.460963.223.0.pdf

[kiddos-like-roses]

It was getting slow out on patrol, especially for an undercover officer like Iha Slow enough for what could've been a nice break... until he got the word on an "illegal stand" or however he managed to make the call out.

"Operator standby, I'm checking it out." Iha paged as he pulled up with a small huff, getting out of his car and heading over to the scene. Wearing his police badge like a necklace, seeing as it wasn't a serious threat off the bat.

"Everything going okay?" He asked with a tilt to his head.

Summer Karen (open rp)

It’s officially summer and that means its breeding season for Karens.

Hikari was simply out one day, setting up a cute little lemonade stand to raise money for a big kid bike. Everyone thought it was adorable except for a certain person. Karen.

She always believed she was in the right and didn’t think twice about crushing a child’s spirit.

“Excuse me!” She shouted and strutted up to Hikari’s lemonade stand.

“Hewwo! Would you wike some wemonade? Onwy a dowwa.”

“Do you have a permit for this stand?”

“A what?”

“A license to sell this piss-colored crap!”

“N-no. Hikari onwy 6.”

“Then you have a choice. Either take this stand down or I’ll call the police to shut it down for you.”

“B-but hikari just twying to eawn money. Hikari not doing anything bad.”

“It’s a crime to sell things without a license!”

“B-but….”

“Fine! Be that way!” Karen proceeded to call 911. Hikari looked terrified.

“You’re gonna get what you deserve, you little delinquent!”

“H-hikari just wanted to seww wemonade.” She burst into tears.

Tagging: @weirdgayenby @yourdarlingneighbor @howdypillarstore @fruityboyblue @gorefieldsworld @chill-nightfury-beans and anyone else who wants to join

[paintedcrows]

Trying to work out how I see these kids aging! (With some Grunkles for reference)

[uncharted-constellations]

It’s been a minute, (both post wise and design wise) so decided to update the fam + a couple additions compared to last time

[antlermotifs]

@feiry said: you love blood too much. / natalie

"That's not what this is about, that was never what any of this was about." Her voice only raises slightly, a sharp edge to her otherwise even tone. She has tried so hard, for years to let the past die. Or at the very least untangle it from her being, but it was difficult to remove something so deeply rooted. Some things you can never truly forget. "I've changed, Natalie. I've built something. But it's like I can feel it creeping in sometimes, the past, all of it."

[sinxbound]

"Okay.~" He's so eager to pound her, she just knew it. Given how generous he was, she did as she was told and unzipped his jeans. His bulge was obvious to see, but she just loved teasing him even still. It was in her nature and once she took them off, she gasped dramatically. "Oh my... is this all for me?"

Her hand went in to stroke him and take it out of his underwear, then slowly slipped out of her own panties, chuckling. "Oh, I love surprises like this from my husband... be rough with me."

Akira did not know what bug bit Rise today, but he wasn’t complaining. She was so very playful and so hot that it was hard for him to even contain himself. In truth he wanted to simply tear off his clothes and pounce her down like the wild beast that he is..but, all great things come with patience after all..and if it meant Rise teasing him like this a little then so be it.

Then she stakes a claim that he misses her..he couldn’t even deny it. “Everyday.” A wink given to her as he reached forward, fingers began groping her breasts softly, how he loved how soft they felt in his grope as he continued to knead her. “Take off those jeans and you’d find I left a surprise for you.” Even like this his bulge could be seen clear as day.

[yukipri]

Young adult Boba Fett stress doodle

~~

PLEASE DO NOT REUPLOAD, EDIT, TRANSLATE, OR OTHERWISE USE MY ART. To share, please reblog! Reblogs and comments greatly appreciated!!!

❀ You can see the rest of my art through the Masterpost pinned to the top of my blog!

[trans-leek-cookie]

yknow what. I wanna say: CSA and COCSA survivors are all incredible, but I also wanna give a shout out to ppl who were exposed to sexual stuff or had any kind of sexual experience as a kid that they either aren't comfortable labelling as or don't consider abuse, but they know it still fucking sucked and shouldnt have happened. Even if that changes later in life and you identify as a victim/surivor, it can be messy to have to imagine those labels applying to the ppl in ur life and that can take time.

The most important thing is to prioritize your recovery + health, and to support other victims + survivors.

[meadowash]

he'd be lying, if he said he didn't fear for the worst every day- that things might just take a turn for the worst, and he'll lose nanami for good. it was a very close call, and he's grateful that nanami's well enough to talk to him, to hold his hand... however, as optimistic as he is, he knows that it might be awhile until they can go home. “  i wouldn't just leave you alone, not after everything you've gone through- ” he gives nanami's hand a squeeze, offering a small, tired smile. “  -besides, i guess it's payback for when i nearly died, you stayed with me back then. ”

shibuya had been a.. ride. that was an understatement. nanami knew he would likely be in the hospital for at least another week before they even thought about discharging him. half of his face and torso was absolutely scorched and he was missing an eye. it was.. probably the worst he had ever dealt with but the outcome could have been way worse. he held haibara's hand gently with a small smile. "i'm glad.. i don't know what i'd do without you.."

[rabbitbled]

@perfectionreached said: ❛ you’re not a very convincing liar. ❜

There's a certain look of indignance that crosses her features, as if it was anything but a fair statement. She wasn't just unconvincing, she was abysmal at best. And if anyone was going to be able to read her and see past the bullshit, of course it would be Taissa. So why even bother?

Well, maybe because Shauna has spent years trying to forge an armor, a thick and fake layer of ease and simplicity. It was easy enough to get lost in, but Tai clearly knew better. Because she had always known better. "That's--that's not it. I'm not lying." She says. "Look, sometimes it's better to just leave it be. I mean it'll...pass, right?" As if it would, as if it ever did.

[keebokuun]

the things Uzi puts up with for these idiots 😔

Me and @jazzyblusnowflake were talking about Uzi in a maid dress and how V and N would react 👀💕

[rondoel]

Looked into my folder and there was so much of them! 😭

[rayveneyed]

cw: sexually explicit content / blood / relatively light sadomasochism / age + experience gap (reader is older + more experienced) / sub!choso / vampires 🧛‍♀️ / sex and violence as two sides of the same coin /

choso kamo is 160 years old when he meets you.

in those years of walking the earth, undead, he believes he’s embraced his vampirism as much as he possibly can. the broiling self-hatred he had once found solace in has reduced to a simmer, strongest in those moments of blood and guts and weakening heartbeats; and although he often avoids crowds, and companionship, and light, he no longer believes himself to be a slave of his own nature.

to be true — in the grand scheme of immortality, of vampirism — he isn’t anywhere close to the level of control he’d wish to have. often, when indulging yuji’s desire to enjoy the world as he did before his death — boardwalks and arcades and cotton candy — he feels his canines aching in his gums, stretching until they dimple against his bottom lip.

it’s not comfortable. it’s not confident. but even despite the growing aches, he’s no longer cowering in alleyways; no longer drinking from poor stray cats and garbage-chewing rats to momentarily satiate that ever-growing, gnawing hunger. he has some sense of control—

“oh, you baby-bats. so adorable.”

control which he now flounders to grab.

a sharp, inky black nail scrapes up the column of his neck — he can’t help but arch into it, head tilting back until his wide, pupil-blown eyes find the ceiling, with its intricate coving and obsidian chandeliers. the music from the main hall is nothing but a buzzing in the back of his head; thoughts of his friends’ whereabouts, an afterthought. your fingernail crowds the underneath of his jaw and stops at where his pulse point would have thrummed, would he have been alive.

you’re a demon. a devil. a she-beast. a succubus. any horrid, terrible name he could call you, he will — dressed in blacks and burgundies and gold older than him, your lips painted an ox-blood red and your eyes as sharp and dark as any polished knife. in your hands he is small. weak. mortal.

“satoru usually keeps his strays away, after last time,” you say, pouting now, though it’s a crude approximation of sadness — even now, your eyes glint with devilment. “so mean, when he knows i have a weak spot for bats like you.”

that wretched finger stretches up; pokes at his bottom lip, scrapes against the fangs that had — embarrassingly — extended from his gums at the simple weight of you on top of him.

“look at that,” you coo, and your grin is something unsettling, something that curdles in the pit of his stomach and heats between his legs. “excited, pup?”

his answering breath comes ragged, and it’s always more embarrassing than it was when he was human. his heart doesn’t work, his lungs do not work, and he has no need to breathe — in fact, he lost the reflex to do so around 92 years ago — but his brain is scrambled, it seems, wilted neurons confusing signals from almost two centuries ago. “i’m — ahem — i’m okay, duchess.”

“how sweet. you don’t have to call me by my title, you know. my name will do just fine.” at his silence, you push yourself up from where you’d been laying low against his chest — looking far too excited when you say: “unless, of course, you like it.”

his hands tremble at his side. he can’t remember the last time he’s indulged in — in debauchery. the last time someone’s made him feel like they’re holding his heart in their hands. over the past hundred-odd years, he’s avoided it like the plague, and for good reason — most vampires aren’t known for their commitment, let’s just say. and now you’re on top of him looking like every sin he’s tried to avoid, and he’s straining so hard in his pants he fears he’ll cum before you even hint at removing a single article of clothing.

you press yourself flush again, nosing at his neck. he knows, for the first time in his long life, what it feels like to be prey. is this what his victims had felt when he ripped into their throats, young and inexperienced and bloodthirsty? did their vulnerability sit like a stone in their throats?

a groan comes from you, suddenly, and your tongue darts out to lave against his skin. choso’s answering moan is more of a whimper, broken and weak in his mouth, but you don’t seem to notice — or care. he flexes his glutes in an effort to stop himself from rutting up against you — not only would it be embarrassing, desperate, but it would be rude. this is your house, after all. your soirée. your gilded halls and bedazzled walls. your silk sheets against his back. your satin skirt bunched around your waist.

“tell me, pup,” you say, and he fights the instinctual reflex to shiver at the brush of your lips against his skin, “have you ever fed from our own?”

“hm?” it’s a sound of confusion brought half on by his simple lack of knowledge, and half on by his slow-processing brain. only seconds after does he fully register your question, and the eyes he hadn’t realised he had screwed shut flew open. “no. i — i didn’t know that was possible.”

all at once, you’re sitting up again — swinging your leg over his hips until you’re standing. it wouldn’t be right to call it clambering — you are impossibly graceful, even passed the agility and elegance that comes with the gift of the undead. his hands reach for you before he can stop them, a sound like a question on his tongue, and you send him the sweetest, most tooth-rotting, stomach-turning smile. he thinks he likes your biting, cruel grins more, though you’re lovely regardless.

you begin to reach for the ties of your corset at your spine — just another thing that makes his mouth water. people didn’t wear these sorts of clothes anymore, not in the human world. but he remembers the skirts and corsets from paintings of noblewomen hundreds of years ago, and how he’d admire the curve of their waists, the swell of their chests—

“of course, satoru wouldn’t tell you. why would he?”

his eyes snap up from your chest, caught with his hand in the cookie jar. but you don’t seem to mind. the corset is removed painfully slowly, for no other reason than to torture him; then, the outer dress, with its carmine satin and intricate embroidery. you throw it to the floor carelessly, as if the most knowledgeable museum curators wouldn’t prostrate themselves at your feet for the simple chance to display it for millions to see — a while his eyes drink up the sight of more skin, the whisper of form beneath your underdress and bloomers, you near him once more.

metal to a magnet, a moth to flame, he pulls himself to the edge of the bed. you find a place between his legs and grasp his chin, and choso can’t look away from you.

“i can take you apart and put you back together,” you say — promise — voice like crushed velvet, quiet and creeping like a choking vine. your thumb smooths over his cheek and ends at its apple, where you press the sharp tip of your nail into his flesh. “i can show you the pleasures of your eternal life, and its pains, and everything in between. i can bring you to every edge, and draw you back from them just as quick — and it will be painful, and you’ll enjoy it so much you won’t be able to go another day without it.”

he’s lost the ability to speak. his unmoving heart is in his throat — or in your hands, or between your sharp teeth. you tilt your head and regard him with knowing, twinkling eyes.

“all you have to say, pup, is yes.”

oh, it’s out of him so quick he can hardly keep up — a word so breathy you’d swear you’d already had your way with him. but embarrassment is a thing of the past when your smile stretches, and you murmur marvellous. you release him from your grasp, much to his chagrin, but when you begin pulling down your bloomers his attention shifts.

he can smell you. smell you. the musky, salty scent of between your legs — a smell that has his mouth watering and his fingers cramping from how hard he fists the sheets. your bloomers are damp when you discard them, sticky with your arousal, and pride glows in choso’s chest. he didn’t do much, but it seemed enough — if he had only let himself lose control, hump up against you harder, perhaps it would’ve stained his clothes; seeped through your layers and onto his lap. he’d go home and hold it over his nose until the scent faded, and perhaps after.

“new as you are,” you say, climbing onto your bed once more and reclining back against the numerous pillows — huffing a mean-sounding laugh when he crawls after you. “i’ll do you the mercy of taking it easy, just this once. oh, don’t make that face — you look like a kicked puppy. i promise you’ll enjoy what i have in store for you.”

and you hike up your underdress, and spread your legs. choso’s mouth waters — the thick smattering of hair on your mons, your flower-like labia, shiny with your arousal. and your clit, peeking out from its hood, pink and shiny and begging to have his mouth on it. but as if this wasn’t enough — as if he wasn’t already scrabbling to get between your legs — you take one of those long, sharp nails, and drag it against your inner thigh. the skin splits. blood trickles down from the wound like a river of gold, flowing into the crease between your thighs and your pussy, and it smells ambrosial. if his fangs were aching before, they’re screaming, now. this isn’t human blood; this is richer, sweeter, creamier. delectable. hedonistic. you’ll make a glutton of him.

“after all,” you say, grinning wickedly, “i’m treating you to a most delectable meal.”

[leglessstreetlights]

fleshing out my Relativity Au some more, i fujking love these guys, they're so-

part 1/ part 2