rustic-lowborn

[rustic-lowborn]

hey here's a website for downloading any video or image from any website.

works w/ youtube, soundcloud, twitch, twitter (gifs and videos), tumblr (video and audio), and most other websites you're probably lookin to download stuff off of.

[rustic-lowborn]

these two posts are in a very loving relationship

[rustic-lowborn]

You know what would be a funny plot?

Reader as sakura’s chill and nurturing older sister who works at a clinic nearby and Sakura secretly hangs out there totally not worried some weirdos might come in and mess around the clinic and hurt his sister. But definitely forgetting his sister is a retired crash out and that’s how Sakura got his violent side from😭

it’s laughable cause at first the boys are like “they’re siblings???” And compares how opposite they are until one day the boys are out on patrol and sees reader making a ruckus at broad day light just outside the clinic cause some weirdo was harassing one of her patients and the boys are like “ah I get it now” and they stand there like this 🧍🏻🧍🏻🧍🏻

[rustic-lowborn]

— 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊;

☾ Content: how the wind breaker boys like to treat you when they've got you in a mating press

ft. Umemiya Hajime, Hayato Suo, Kaji Ren, Togame Jo

☾ Warnings: 18+ only, minors dni, f!reader, mentions of cervix, breeding kink

— 𝐔𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐇𝐚𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐞;

Umemiya forgets his strength with you sometimes, folding you into the most unforgiving of mating presses. he's got you pinned beneath him, his large hands interlaced tightly with yours as he bends you in half, your legs slung over his broad shoulders. his movements carry a raw, unbridled sort of desperation, every thrust so intense and unrelentingly rough. you can barely handle all of him- he's overwhelming, fucks you with a punishing stamina.

it's impossible to think when he's got you like this, the sweet, breathless words he pants against your skin nearly swallowed by the haze consuming your mind. his tone always takes on an edge of awe, almost reverent, cooing out things that have you flushing hotly—so good for me...so fucking perfect...you're everything i ever wanted—as he drives his cock deeper into you. his hips slam against yours with a force that makes your breath catch, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the air that's thick with the heavy scent of sex.

"Haji- please, I can't-" you're barely coherent, voice breaking as your vision blurs with tears from overwhelming pleasure. your head feels a little fuzzy. he's too big, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with every thrust and making you see stars. the sensitive walls of your cunt spasm weakly around him. it's too much.

"you can," Umemiya drops his head, damp strands of white hair brushing your collarbone, breath hot against your skin. he kisses your shoulder before brushing away the dampness gathering at your lashes with his lips. when he lifts his head again, you swallow thickly at the intense glint in his eyes. "just a little more- fuck, look at you, always taking me so beautifully- you feel so good. just let me use this perfect pussy a little longer, hm, baby?"

— 𝐇𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐮𝐨;

Hayato fucks you with a steady, measured rhythm, each thrust jolting your body up the bed and making it creak beneath you. there's a quiet power in his motions, every shift and glide igniting a growing heat within you. he moves with such purpose and care, making every second feel drawn out, each stroke of his cock more intimate than the last.

he likes to feel you, pinning your hips down with his, rolling against you languidly. your legs rest over his elbows, your fingers entwined with his. when he's got you like this, you can feel everything, see everything. you fixate on the way his lips are parted, reddened and swollen from your kisses. every pant and exhale from him brushes gently against your lips, sending a shiver through you. he likes to kiss you, swallowing your moans as his tongue slides against yours. you can see the slow draw of his cock in and out of you, hear the wet sounds of your cunt taking him, and it makes you tighten unconsciously.

“good girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he tilts his hips so he can sink even deeper inside you. the soft tassel of one of his earrings brushes your cheek. “taking me so well."

you can't help but whimper, the closeness of him making everything feel more intense. the coil in your gut grows tighter.

"does it feel good?" he asks, his lips brushing the tip of your nose before gently trailing down to rest just above yours.

you nod, tilting your chin up so you meet his lips. "want…want more, Suo," you whine between soft kisses. your tone is needy, desperate, and you can feel his lips curve up into a small smile.

you mourn the loss of warmth when he pulls back, gripping your ankles to pull them over his shoulders. "then who am i to deny my girl what she wants?"

— 𝐊𝐚𝐣𝐢 𝐑𝐞𝐧;

Kaji isn't one to speak much when he has you like this, your body bent in a way that you’ll be sure to feel the next day. his brows are furrowed in concentration as he moves, lost in the way you're sucking him in. the silence between you is thick, charged with tension, only broken by your soft whines and his low, breathy grunts.

but when he does speak, his voice low and rough with desire, it never fails to send shivers down your spine.

“fuck,” Kaji grits out, gripping your ankles tighter, “how are you still so fucking tight? your pussy trying to strangle me or something? i can barely move."

you know that's not true because in the next second, he's pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in, knocking the breath right out of you. you moan, fisting the sheets by your head with one hand, the other bracing yourself against the bed's headboard.

his head falls back and you take the opportunity to look at him fully. he always gets some sort of way whenever you catch him staring- whether it's from embarrassment or something else, you can't say for sure. your gaze lands on the red marks along the sides of his arms, products from earlier in the evening when he had you pressed up against the wall. without even needing to see, you know there are deeper streaks on his back. he never seems to mind the scratches. in fact, you get the sense he might even be pleased by them- by the idea that you've marked him as yours in some way. the only acknowledgement he ever offers is an offhand grumbled remark the morning after about how insatiable you are. he has no room to say that, really, considering that every time he's done with you, you can hardly walk.

you're drawn out of your daze when Kaji suddenly pushes your legs down on either side of your head, bending you in half. you cry out, the new position sending shockwaves through you. "n-ngh! Ren, s'too...too much!"

"if you've got time to stare," Kaji's bangs graze your forehead as he leans over you, his voice raw and ragged, a testament to how you’re making him feel, "clearly i'm not fucking you hard enough."

— 𝐓𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐉𝐨;

Togame fucks you slowly, with long strokes that pierce you to your very core. he’s methodical, deliberate, delights in seeing the way you writhe beneath him as he claims what's his. his hands are slotted under your knees, spreading your legs and pushing them back as far as they can go so he can see where the two of you are joined. he likes to watch- track the way his fat cock spears into you, the walls of your pussy stretched impossibly around his length. there's a filthy smirk on his lips as he gazes down at you, lazy satisfaction in his eyes.

"look at you," Togame huffs out a laugh, "you're gushing. you like me that much, huh?"

you're making a mess, staining the sheets beneath you with your juices. but you can't be blamed, not when Togame seems intent on carving the shape of his cock into the walls of your cunt. it feels like every thrust has his cock driving into you even deeper, harder. you hide your face with your arm, letting out choked whine. "J-Jo…"

"don't do that," his voice is low, "want to see that cute face when you squirt all over my cock."

he says that with such certainty, never mind that you've never actually even done that before. you slowly pull your arm away, reluctantly meeting his gaze as your chest rises and falls with effort. "p-please...Jo..."

"p-please what?" Togame teases, the tone in his voice making you want to hide your face once more. "please make you cum? please fill you up?"

you can only manage a nod, gasping when he punctuates each question with a harsh thrust. "unh- uh huh!"

"shit," Togame groans, his voice thick with breathlessness and a fervor matched by his quickening pace. "gonna let me knock you up, pretty girl? gonna let me fill this pussy up, give ya a kid?"

your cunt clenches around him.

Togame groans and bends over you, sinking his hands into the mattress on either side of your head. "well since you asked so nicely."

[rustic-lowborn]

this is the full video of patti lupone breaking the sound barrier at the 1988 tony awards btw

[rustic-lowborn]

5 Tiny Writing Tips That Aren’t Talked About Enough (but work for me)

These are some lowkey underrated tips I’ve seen floating around writing communities — the kind that don’t get flashy attention but seriously changed how I write.

1. Put “he/she/they” at the start of the sentence less often.

Try switching up your sentence rhythm. Instead of

“She walked to the window,”

try

“The window creaked open under her touch.”

Keeps it fresh and stops the paragraph from sounding like a checklist.

2. Don’t describe everything — describe what matters.

Instead of listing every detail in a room, pick 2–3 objects that say something.

“A half-drunk mug of tea and a knife on the table”

sets a way stronger tone than

“There was a wooden table, two chairs, and a shelf.”

3. Use beats instead of dialogue tags sometimes.

Instead of:

"I'm fine," she said.

Try:

"I'm fine." She wiped her hands on her skirt.

It helps shows emotion, and movement.

4. Write your first draft like no one will ever read it.

No pressure. No perfection. Just vibes. The point of draft one is to exist. Let it be messy and weird — future you will thank you for at least something to edit.

5. When stuck, ask: “What’s the most fun thing that could happen next?”

Not logical. Not realistic. FUN. It doesn’t have to stay — but chasing excitement can blast through writer’s block and give you ideas you actually want to write.

What’s a tip that unexpectedly helped with your writing? Let me know!! 🍒

[rustic-lowborn]

How I feel reading smut while being scared of intimacy in real life

[rustic-lowborn]

So I finally drew Morgan's little Angel/Demon things that are the equivalent of the lil Leshys. These ones above are early cult days Morgan- and they keep this dynamic tight until Leshy arrives. The dynamic being: repressed emotions and trauma. Classic OC stuff. For Leshy we have the caring one and the chaotic one, they're a funny mess. For Morgan we have one who runs the show at the expense of the other. The emotional one rarely get the green light from the control freak, and only for things like being loyal and useful to the Lamb, disliking gods or being passionate about tailoring. Morgan is not ok.

Since the day Blue lost control and Red tried to skewer Leshy without any regards for anything or anyone, the red one gets more leeway. It's useless to try and hide anger anymore after such an explosion, when it comes to the ex god at least. So he gets more and more wiggle room and ends up taking more and more space. That leads to a lot "Ah fuck" moments as Morgan unconsciously relaxes and then realizes he's been caught up by some sort of emotion he used to repress. Thena is always there to point it out for him. She's not helping blue lil Morgan.

[rustic-lowborn]

୨୧﹕fem!reader, link being a perv...

you'd catch him sometimes, always when he thought no one noticed—those sharp, blue eyes of his drifting down, lingering just a moment too long on your chest while you poured water into the trough, or while you bent to pick up a crate of apples outside malo mart.

hylian champion or not, link wasn’t exactly subtle. not to you.

you played dumb, sure.

giggled when he looked away too fast, cheeks coloring like a schoolboy caught scribbling dirty sketches. you'd tease him with nothing more than the curve of a smirk, the way you leaned just a bit too far forward when handing him a loaf of bread, or touched his wrist for just a second longer when returning his rupee change.

innocent, playful—like two kids tugging on opposite ends of a rope just to see who pulls first.

but behind those sheepish half-smiles and polite nods, something darker curled in the silence.

because he looked at you like a starving man.

not with sweet longing or bashful affection—but with heat. with hunger. that wild, feral flicker in his eyes he couldn’t shake even when out of his beast form.

the same eyes that once faced down monsters in the bowels of hyrule castle now zeroed in on your breasts while you leaned on the windowsill of your cottage in a too-thin blouse. the way his gaze moved—not soft or savoring, but sharp, like he wanted to pin you to the wall and tear the fabric off with his teeth.

and the fucked-up thing was… it thrilled you.

there was power in that gaze. in knowing the man who slew shadow beasts and felled kings looked at you not like a delicate villager but a challenge. a need.

you weren’t some princess locked in a tower—your tower was two stories of creaking wood and the only thing you wore with jewels were your nipples when you bathed in the evening sun. and you knew he watched that too, maybe from the edge of the woods, silent as a shadow, cock aching under those thick leather pants he always wore.

once, when your shift at the inn ran long and the air was thick with heat, you'd pulled your apron loose and let the neckline of your dress sink low, skin glistening with sweat. you were leaning over the counter to scrub something when you heard boots stop behind you. felt that heat again, even before you turned.

“hey, hero,” you said, without looking up. your voice was light, teasing, like syrup in summer.

silence, except for the soft rasp of his breath.

you straightened slowly, felt your bodice tighten a little more around your chest as you did, and when you finally looked, there he was—shoulders stiff, lips parted just enough to show the sharp line of his teeth. his eyes flicked up from your cleavage, slow, like he was trying to memorize every inch before he had to be polite again.

you smiled.

“something on your mind, link?”

he didn’t answer, just gave you that look again. that low, burning look that said if he had it his way, you’d be bent over the bar with your dress rucked up to your waist and his cock buried so deep inside you you’d forget your own name.

and you wouldn’t stop him.

because let’s face it—every time he came through ordon, the air got thicker, the nights a little longer. you’d roll over in bed with your thighs sticky and your cunt throbbing, imagining what he’d sound like above you. what he'd grunt in your ear when he finally snapped. would he be rough? sweet?

would he wrap that leather-gloved hand around your throat or shove it between your thighs and make you soak through his fingers before he even undid his belt?

your fantasies got worse. hotter. filthier.

like the time you imagined him pushing into you behind your cottage, back against the wall, the smell of horse and pine thick around you. his hand muffling your moans while he drove himself in, hard, fast, like he didn’t have time to play nice anymore.

like hyrule could burn and he'd still need to fuck you right there, with your tits bouncing out of your bodice and your legs wrapped around his waist.

you'd wake up wet. fingers between your thighs. panting his name like a fucking prayer.

and lately?

he didn’t even hide it anymore.

just yesterday, you were crouched by the river washing linens, tits practically hanging out in the sun-warmed air, when he trotted by on epona.

he looked straight at you, and this time he didn’t look away. he watched your hands wring the cloth. watched the way your dress clung to your thighs. and then he smiled—just the corner of his mouth twitching up—and kept riding.

that fucker knew.

[rustic-lowborn]

fuck em up gang

[rustic-lowborn]

Blackstone owns over 274,000 single-family homes

[rustic-lowborn]

[rustic-lowborn]

now some oc writers are using the “x reader” tag and giving the excuse that “it’s just a different perspective.” it doesn’t matter if you use that tag IF YOU’RE NOT INCLUDING THE READER! YOU have your own tag, leave us alone.

the “x reader” tag exists so that readers of any background, appearance, or identity can immerse themselves in a story and feel included as the main character.

when you write a story centered around your own original character, with a defined name, personality, and often a specific appearance, you’re no longer inviting the reader to step into that role, you’re writing about your character, not the reader. that’s completely fine! writing oc content is valid and has its own space.

but misusing the “x reader” tag to gain visibility or clicks is misleading. it sets the wrong expectations and excludes readers who were looking for stories where they could truly see themselves in the narrative. if your story focuses on your oc, label it honestly.

use the “oc x canon” tag or “original character” there’s no shame in that. but please stop co-opting a space that’s meant to be inclusive and flexible for all readers, especially those who are often underrepresented in fiction. the “x reader” tag is not a blank slate for oc projection.

it’s meant to include everyone, not just your creative vision.

respect your audience. tag responsibly.

NOTE: writing in another point of view like “SHE/HE went to the market” instead of “YOU went to the market” does not count as “x reader.”

(not 100% but most of the time) don’t try to be clever or sneaky about it.

NOTE 2: by the way, regarding the second image, it’s great to see more asian, black, and mixed oc’s! but even so, that still doesn’t make it a reader insert, let alone fit the tag. the reader needs to be the main character.

[rustic-lowborn]

many on here need to be learning this lesson

[rustic-lowborn]

When I say purity culture has no endpoint, what I mean is that they will never run out of people to cut down. If porn was made illegal and all of the perverts were run out of the country, the jesus freaks would immediately turn on each other. They require an enemy to function, and will create one of their friends if need be.

[rustic-lowborn]

Well, folks, the numbers are in. We're in a committed relationShip with @ao3org, and it's called...drumroll...TagTeam! ao3blr was a VERY close second, so go ahead and use that tag too, ya crazy kids.

[rustic-lowborn]

Sony WM-F51, 1987