#artfully

[ulfgbohlin]

www.homejournal.com -  “spectacular three-storey residence”.

[sushiisiu]

khura'inese wedding

[johnpaulataker]

John Paul’s one shoulder puffy sleeve dress makes a #dramatic impression with its #asymmetric skirt and pointed hem. It's #artfully draped from silk satin that's ruched through the waist to the top. 🤍 #johnpaulataker #collections (at Manhattan) https://www.instagram.com/p/Co7PWTSIt2N/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[tojisun]

CW: dubcon; omegaverse stuff so ruts/heats + power and hierarchical abo dynamics; shift in balance of power; claiming; gn!reader; rambly as hell bc im writing this while sleep deprived but! the worms. they are going through it!!!

alpha soap who, traditionally, goes for omegas but you—

oh, how he wants you.

it was a fortunate coincidence, one that has johnny turning to the lord if only to give his thanks because he knows that none of this would have been possible if he just happened to be even a minute late. ‘this’ being the shift in the wafting scents that filled up the little, and on the brink of bankruptcy, bookstore in the corner of the street.

it’s never packed in the weekdays so johnny often goes there to unwind when his senses are overstimulated, feeling his eyes straining in their sockets and his throat closing up almost like he’s having an allergic reaction—he’s had it checked before and leslie said he doesn’t have any allergies.

patches are advertised but no one in this town ever sees them as priority because of how archaic the town still remains, but also because almost everyone is bonded. don’t mind the fact that scent patches are not only for single folks but whatever.

point is that if johnny was tired, he would find reprieve in the bookstore long enough that he was able to gather his bearings and brave another trek around the city because a mission is still a mission, and overloaded senses just needed to be dealt with as quickly as possible.

today should not have been any different. today should have just been another quick break; another quiet lull as johnny forced the buzzing senses into silence enough that he could think again.

today should have just been another day.

but then johnny was opening the door to the bookstore at the same time that someone was walking out—knobby shoulders bump against his—and johnny’s emotions flare up, eating at the reason straining at his mind. something like a storm explodes in the corners of his head, and johnny really should have realized then what it was.

it was not just oversensitivity. it was not just another bout of overloaded senses. it was—

something warm churns from the base of his stomach, before winding down his body until it pools on the plane of his spine. it felt like molten glass or liquid mercury; dragging. marking.

sticky. liquorice.

johnny breathes in, the air passing through his mouth instead. then, something buttery—like wine aged within the barrel—erupts on his tongue. it tastes like honeyed new wood.

like an alpha in a rut.

he turns, suddenly hyperaware of everything, before lashing his hand out to reach for the stranger before they could leave. the touch not soothing, and it has the alpha growling at johnny. the sound rumbles from the base of your throat, like an alligator’s bellow, and yet it made johnny’s gums ache. they want his teeth to gnaw. to tear. to mark.

you growl again, this time in warning, and johnny has spent enough ruts to understand what you want. you want to leave. to hightail out of the shop and maybe even the city, before crawling into your bed—not a nest, johnny trills to himself, not with how clean your scent is because you’re unmated—to spend your rut alone.

lord, would you fuck your own fist? or fuck a toy for your knot? would you fuck your hole too? fill it up too, or could you only cum if you are the one doing the filling?

whatever it is, johnny promises to overwrite your lonely experience. he’s here now, after all, isn’t he? and don’t alphas need help?

so johnny still doesn’t let go, his strength exceptional especially against an alpha whose rut is beginning to swell. instead, he replies to your growls with a snarl, one that is ripped from the rumble of his chest, before showing off his jagged fangs.

it is an archaic way of challenging an alpha, and he knows that no one follows the tradition anymore, but habit is difficult to change and johnny finds himself posturing against you, a shocked alpha whose raging storm of lust flickered just enough to allow johnny to fully tug you out of the bookstore and into the little winding path away from the streets. you protest, trying to shake him off, but you are so, so weak and johnny is so, so powerful, and he needs to do something before he could even think about letting you go.

johnny’s seen it done a handful of times back at the base. it’s not something price usually dishes out, but it was something everyone knew he could do. and one that he could do well. johnny remembers seeing it for the first time and thinking that betrayal will never even cross his own mind because there is something far worse than having a target on one’s back and that was—

it was to—

force an alpha into submission.

johnny remembers kyle’s interest and ghost’s morbid curiosity. hell, he even remembers his own anticipation when their captain had dragged a traitor to the centre pit by the scruff, his pheromones overflowing and stifling like a heavy fog. johnny remembers how john had made it seem so easy; how he was able to coax a gentler scent out of connors when price had cornered the alpha to the point that he bore their captain’s full weight. then, johnny remembers the marking.

the way their captain’s teeth dug into connors’ skin before tearing, and tearing, until the bite took. until the mangled mess left on connors’ olive skin would be a permanent fixture.

until connors’ alpha scent turned softer. prettier.

(price led connors to his room, and the two stayed there for days. no one questioned or teased because they all knew that bitching an alpha sometimes was better than breeding an omega.

and their captain had all the rights to call dibs on connors.)

johnny remembers all of this as he leads you away. his palms have turned clammy, gums aching once more with need. with ever-growing desire. he hears you hiss at him, snapping that he better let you go and that he fuck off before you do something he’d regret but johnny is deaf to all your threats because they’re empty.

lord, he knows you could even barely stand up straight right now—your knees knock against each other with every wobbly step. but he lets you talk; lets you use your words as shield because johnny keeps leading you away from view.

he sees a secured nook, one that was hidden away from prying eyes—you’re his, after all—and begins to settle.

to prepare for the feast now that the hunt’s over.

he pushes you forward, until all your front is pressed against the wall. your cheek is smooshed, tiny pebbles digging into your skin, and he knows that all of that would be unpleasant later when the adrenaline’s gone, but johnny can’t find it in himself to care. because he follows soon, folding himself over your back before burying his face on the crook of your neck.

you freeze. johnny takes that moment to take a deep drag of your smell.

your scent fills his senses once again, overtaking his coherence and bypassing his rationality to drown himself in the strong aroma wafting from you. it’s too good, too delicious, that it has johnny rumbling, pleased with himself for picking you up all for him because you will be, and are, his now.

the weight of his tongue and the throbbing of his gums echo his thoughts.

his. hishishis—

“god,” johnny croaks out, the first he’s said since this ordeal. “you smell absolutely divine.”

“sir. sir, please—”

“shh,” he says, pulling the collar of your shirt back. “it’d be over soon.”

“no— sir! i don’t— please—”

blood bursts in johnny’s mouth and his alpha sings in pleasure.

mine. mineminemine.

[kraftykelpie]

Fellas is it gay to lay chest to chest and stare fondly into each other's eyes while touching each other softly

[simplyghoulery]

Day 44 // in lesson

Nyx teaching baby zag about his crystal

[heartsinhay]

Kim Kitsuragi secretly sews professional yet flattering clothing to Harry’s exact measurements and leaves them in containers all across Jamrock for Harry to find

[idknothingfancyihope]

When dealing with grief it is important to have a support system in place

[marlowe-art]

the results of july's still-life club meetups

[irradiatedsnakes]

michael "mike" bakker, a biology student whose made the ill-fated decision to do his thesis on whatever the fuck is going on with the wildlife in dialtown, a subject that is interested exclusively to him and not to any publications or grant-holders. but SOMEONE's got to look at what's going on with the mutant raccoons, surely. probably

he starts out incredibly curious about gingi as a biological mystery, quickly turning to abject rage as any single element of gingi’s makeup makes exactly 0 scientific sense. he assumes that it must be a deliberate hoax, refusing to entertain its very existence as an actual creechur. eventually learns to accept that not everything will fit neatly into the framework by which he views the world.

also, he has an entire taxidermy pigeon for a head

[columboscreens]

[fauvester]

couples costume

[emotionallyunstabl]

all sonic fanart is just an exercise in how to avoid drawing necks

[pokeficdaily]

[simplyghoulery]

Day 68 // fishin trip

Like boy's night, but better

[ahotknife]

looking on spotify for character mixes