#Ideas for apps

[lillaray]

Happy holidays!!! 💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️

[5h0w1sh]

Sonic dies in SA 2 instead of Shadow PT.2

[mrbrightxside]

Gen Z Bill art dump... also more on the way as other posts bc it'd be too much on ONE... anyway this awesome cool AU is by none other than @dyellogin 🫶🫶‼️‼️

I can't get this mf out of my head I hope he gets shot dead

No he's not my favorite LMFAOOO whaaat

[who-let-a-bird-in]

He’s girlblogging

[collophora]

Concept I wanted to put on paper.

[morecrearty]

made a digital redraw of this sketchbook doodle

[fite-club]

truly the more y'all throw a fit about the concept of trans men benefiting from male privilege, the more it seems like you fundamentally do not conceptualize trans men as men

[jesuistrestriste]

dom!art still taking the strap like a p★rnstar.

cw (18+) : teasing dom!art, eager-to-please sub!reader, brief fingering, choking, pegging, spitting in mouth, handjob, general filth

art pushes his face into the mattress as your soft, willing tongue laps slickly over his hole from behind, his left hand reaching back to grab your shoulder and squeeze it with everything he’s got. he rocks his hips against your mouth and keens when he feels you whimper into his flesh.

“f-fuuuck,” he shudders, “you’re so greedy for me, aren’t you? do i taste good?”

all you can do is nod, too immersed in his taste and his smell and his dirty language. he laughs lowly in response and then hisses like he’s in pain—even if he’s feeling quite the opposite—when you begin to ease two fingers into his tight entrance without permission. you usually have to ask in order to touch any part of him, as he likes the sense of control and you like knowing that your movements are dependent on his say-so, but it just feels like the right moment to open him up. (he’d been prepped perfectly already with just your licking, his cock hard and hanging heavily between his thighs.) he bites at the sheets, the feeling of you beginning to curl the pads of your phalanges down into his prostate punching a broken whine from his lungs. warm spit clings to his bottom lip and chin as he releases the fabric from his teeth to sit up a bit and look over his shoulder. he looks annoyed.

aroused beyond belief, but annoyed.

“that’s enough—no more, or i wont last long enough to take you. come lie down,” he pats the pillows near the top of the bed, “and tighten the harness, it’s slipping.”

you scramble to your feet, easing your touch from his core, and wipe your face with the back of your other hand before you pull at the polyester straps of the strap-on enough to keep it secure. art sprawls himself out on the bedding for just a moment; he lets you stare at his toned, flushed, willing body while you move to lay your frame down. he crawls on top and straddles you afterwards. maneuvers to smush his shaft against the faux rubbery one underneath him. he moans when he frots with it—grinding his leaking tip against yours with even, teasing thrusts. he does it until he starts to shake, his limbs locking up with an impending climax, only to pull back and begin to sit over the dildo without needing your despairing whine as a prompt. your brow pinches reflexively as you watch him devour the inches, one after the other.. he’s a pro by now, but it never ceases to amaze you. he bucks against the fullness. you wonder if it’ll bulge his tummy this time like his dick bulges yours when he’s inside. the way he starts to bounce on it interrupts your flow of thought. he’s slow at first, then ravenous with it. you’re sure that every motion is hitting that special spot in his walls.

“you look like a mess.. and i’m the one getting fucked,” he snickers between whorish groans and whimpers, his hands finding your throat and gently squeezing the sides under his palms, “you like when i ride you? yeah? just like this? fuck, shit—open your mouth—“

you do as you’re told.

is there any other way to respond to him when he gets like this?

you do what he wants you to do, or you don’t get the satisfaction of pounding him until he’s gone mushy in the head. it’s a transactional process that you’re more than willing to work through.

as soon as your jaw is slacked, your eyes fluttering, he leans in and purses his pout. a glob of his saliva is slowly spat over your tongue like sugary honey. you can hardly take it. your hands fist the sheets and you writhe beneath his weight at the viscous fluid dulling your senses. the flavor is so him, slightly minty from the gum he always chews. he taps the underside of your chin when he’s finished letting it drip. he licks his bottom lip to be rid of the remnants.

“swallow.”

and you do—you want nothing more. he sits upright again and splits himself open harder on the toy bound to your pelvis. each time he slides down it, you get to watch as his abdomen curls and his blonde locks are strewn about his forehead. he tightens his hold on your neck just enough to remind you who’s really in charge, and his length jumps in response to the resulting look that crosses your face. you mewl when it dribbles glassy precome like a river; it glosses over the throbbing vein running down the underside of it. a sound that’s a mix between a shout and a sob then escapes his chest.

“god, i’m close,” his hips stutter in their efforts, his blue eyes shielded by low lids, “c’mere—“

he takes one of his hands from your body and reaches it down to take one of yours that’s still grasping at the sheets. he guides your limp fist to wrap around the base of his cock, keening as he starts to hump it.

“touch me—jerk me off.. fuck.. that’s it—that’s good—don’t stop.. beg me to come for you..”

the heat in your gut swells and contracts in time with his noises and his movements, your hand pumping him quickly to aid his consumption of the pleasure he’s being abundantly given. your thumb swipes over his tip, you can tell it aches. he jolts forward at his sensitivity, dazedly moving both of his hands to your chest for leverage, and you dig your heels into the mattress to help you rut up forcefully into his ass. he almost screams.

you beg. you slur out a multitude of pathetic, indulgent sentences that spur on the wave of ecstasy about to crash into his figure. ‘please, come on my strap’ and ‘i’m begging you to let it all go for me, let me watch you lose it’.

it does the trick. in fact, it does it perfectly. everything snaps.

he topples forward with a sudden wail; brows furrowing and thighs quaking and back arching in an unbelievably filthy manner. his legs begin to close as the pleasure floods in and squirts from his erection in several bursts—the ropes coat your fingers and dribble over his stomach like fresh milk. still riding the toy, he digs his calloused touch into the sides of your torso, his fingers moving there in the midst of his orgasm. he hangs his head as he pants.

“fuck, i’m coming,” he gasps, growling afterward as if the sensations are causing his hair to stand on end, “keep stroking me, i’m still—yeah—god, you’re my favorite way to get off..”

you can tell that he means it, that the intoxicating effect of his release isn’t making him drunk enough to be insincere. you pump him until he seizes up and starts to hiccup. when the overstimulation becomes too much, he drops himself on top of you in a boneless heap; a sweaty, spent, satisfied mess of a man. the strap-on is still buried in his heat, and his cock is softening rapidly, but he shows no sign of moving anytime soon.

he reaches up quietly and cups your cheek, brushing his nose against it. you can feel him swallow down a jumble of words before his final ones sound out lowly and tenderly.

the way you like them, and the way he knows you need them.

“good job.. you did so well for me, thank you. give me a few, and then i’ll let you have what you really want.”

there's no need to place any bets on his integrity; you know he’ll keep his promise.

he always does.

tags : @voidsuites @asheepinfrance @fawnnpaws @artstennisracket @andyrambles @imperishablereverie @ghostgirl-22 @lexiiscorect @cha11engers @patricksbf @newrochellechallenger2019 @pittsick @blastzachilles @oncefaist

[zu-is-here]

Um...can you draw more killermare comic please? i love them very much (´,,•ω•,,)♡

I was never there

[glasskoi]

brief marco from twitter

[bitchslapblastoids]

— lucy dacus “hot and heavy”

Sources: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

[darqx]

Bought the most expensive Pencil™ of my life to test out drawing on an iPad whilst I was on hols

[forgetme-eternally-blissfully]

When Cale was Kim Rok Soo, back at the company, he never scared anyone. Sure, they worried for him, they feared his Records or they felt a subconscious chill when making eye contact but-

Rarely has he ever scared them.

Except the week he disappeared.

He got trapped underneath rubble, like his first meeting with Lee Soo Hyuk, but no one was there to save him this time. Three days, he was trapped; an uncanny parallel, maybe even more than a coincidence. But on the third day… something changed. He gained a new ability, something that snapped inside of him like a key that forgoes unlocking the mechanism entirely and breaks the lock itself.

He lifted a building off of its foundations.

The metal holding together the crevice he was huddled in snapped and groaned, while the rocks and concrete scratched and shattered like glass. He forced his way out and walked.

He walked away from the company.

If he had been within his mind, he would’ve gotten help, accepted food and water and healed his injuries.

He wasn’t. Within his mind, that is. He was strong, his senses had heightened to find food and all of his necessaries, but he couldn’t remember anything from his life as Kim Rok Soo.

Kim Rok Soo at this moment had fallen asleep, and Survival woke up. For 4 days, Survival walked, ate, drank, and breathed the life of Kim Rok Soo.

If you could call it living.

Eventually he was found, wandering and dirty, and seeing his team members let Rok Soo wake up, and Survival fell asleep.

Cale Henituse hasn’t had to do that. No, not yet, but time catches up eventually and Cale found himself in a perilous situation again.

Trapped inside of a collapsing building with no way to contact his friends who are expecting him to be back in 6 days. They were in a different world, so Cale only had a portion of his abilities, but it should've been enough. It hadn't.

4 days inside of the building, which shuddered and broke multiple times around him, finally, Survival opened its eyes.

It had taken longer because of Vitality of the Heart, but with all of his abilities weakened extensively, he had no options for escape.

Survival looks around dumbly. Within its own consciousness, it’s doing calculations. The structural integrity. The state of his body. The nearest food source.

Lifting the building off of its body is easy, but it takes several hours to progress its way out of the collapsing caverns. Survival breathes heavily, but doesn’t hesitate as it finally breaks through the side. The building tips over and crashes on the opposite side of where it is. Survival blinks from the impact, but only because of the dust.

It wanders for 3 days.

Finally, it gets found. By bandits.

It massacres them and steals their resources.

Soon after that, news breaks out about the supposed single-handed wipe out, and Raon finds him. Raon tries to speak to it, but after it deduced that Raon wasn’t a threat nor food, it walked away.

As a smart and clever dragon, Raon observed Cale before being so abruptly insulted. Multiple attempts to bring Cale back into those eyes, all failed attempts, Raon teleports the unwilling stranger back to the empire.

It doesn’t speak, it doesn’t respond to touch beyond a stern glance, and it only does the bare minimum to survive. It tried to store food under its bed after eating “enough”, and no amount of begging convinced it to not store the rations. It hasn’t bothered to use its powers either- like it doesn’t know it has them.

All attempts to speak are futile.

Choi Han even tried Korean, but it didn’t show any sign of understanding.

Rosalyn does research with Raon and Choi Han on what could have caused it.

Then they hear about the collapsed building. They hear about the bandits who had supposedly died a few days afterwards. Raon figures out that- yes- the stuff Cale had with him at the time used to belong to bandits.

A week after becoming Survival, days after being found, Cale opens his eyes on a bed.

“… They found me?” He muttered it so quietly, whisper soft, but Raon- apparently sleeping by his legs, jumps up with wide eyes.

“Human!”

Cale wants to sigh. How long was he asleep this time? By Raon’s expression, it must have beaten his previous records.

“Is it you? Is it really you? Say something! Say my name!”

Cale blinks in confusion. Two minutes ago he was dozing off inside of a dark hole that was close to collapsing, now— Raon wants to hear his name?

“… Raon Miru? Are you okay?” Cale sat up, ignoring his stiff body and pulling Raon into his lap. He seems to have lost a little weight?

“Human you must absolutely tell me everything you remember!”

While saying this, Raon was ordering everyone to stay out of Cale’s room with the exception of Choi Han and Rosalyn, as well as informing Beacrox to bring up food and to prepare tea.

Cale observes Raon, who is earnestly distressed for some reason, and concedes.

“The last thing I remember was falling asleep in a collapsing building.” Rosalyn gasps. She just entered the room with Choi Han, who is staring at Cale with a cold gaze.

“Why were you in there?” A chill runs down Cales spine at Choi Han’s voice.

“The conmen didn’t expect the building to collapse, they had likely planned something else. It just happened out of nowhere.” He doesn't say that he got lucky. He was next to one of the buildings main supports at the time, and the crumbling structure formed a bubble around him by chance.

Rosalyn goes pale.

Raon shouts, “I will destroy those bastards that made you go in there!”

“They’re already dead.” Cale shakes his head. Rosalyn covers her mouth. He hadn't said he got lucky, but it's obvious that he did. Did they almost lose Cale, and hadn't even known?

‘Three times…’ He’s been lucky with collapsing buildings three times now.

“Cale-nim…” Choi Han places a hand on his shoulder and Cale freezes in fear. “After the building collapsed, a bandit camp was destroyed, single handedly, a few days after. Raon found you wandering- with their stuff on you.”

Immediately, Cale figured it out. It must be an ability. He recalls the similar event that happened in the past and the dots are easy to connect.

But- he can’t say anything about that with Rosalyn in the room.

So all he says, is…

“I guess some part of me really wanted to live.”

[flying-cat]

I just thought of Izuku immediately shooting up in the hero rankings like a week after he becomes an active pro-hero again because everyone is so happy that he's back and Katsuki wants to be annoyed that Izuku ranked higher than him so quickly like he would've been, once upon a time, but he really can't be because this is what he worked eight years to see, and now he can finally compete with him again. So he sits in his apartment, TV on, watching Izuku try not to stutter his way through his first returning interview with fondness and pride, and thinks it's finally time to put some actual effort into climbing higher on the hero rankings.

(Not that being #1 is his priority anymore. He's just happy that he gets to fight alongside Izuku again, that they can compete with one another as equals, and that they can complete one another like two sides of the same coin. For the rest of their lives.)

[hooid]

Go take that screenshot of you and your friend playing minecraft together, go make that discord channel for out of context messages, go record your gameplay and upload it unlisted to youtube so you can all watch later and laugh about the stupid shit you talk about when you're having fun together, go take that picture of you all being stupid on the street or at home or at a bar and send that fucking corny tiktok for fucks sake

Go reminisce with the ones you love about how it was and how it will be because we've only been here for so short and we have so much more to laugh about

GO

AND

LOVE

HARDER