#guts lockscreen

[random-locks]

Teenage Dream - Olivia Rodrigo 💜

[rosabie]

[flvrnne]

olivia rodrigo layouts please and thank you :)

here u have, headers © to the owners.

[redwitchrune]

something about comfort, blue and orange, and new perspectives

[fangirlingnuisance]

Olivia Rodrigo, Pop's Brightest Hope, Just May Be a Rock Star

--- Olivia Rodrigo Lockscreens ⭐️ like or repost if you save ⭐️ you can also follow me here 👇🏽 twt: @/livrodriguts ig: @/livrodrigo.jpg GUTS World Tour, Palm Springs (2024)

[prplocks]

✧❁ wallpaper 〴 olivia rodrigo ˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

reblog if you save ➳

༶•┈┈┈┈┈┈୨♡୧┈┈┈┈┈•༶

[colorless-sea]

[heylolita00]

[clowns-things]

[yelenablove]

💜 | olivia rodrigo wallpaper!

Hi! If you want to get this original olivia rodrigo wallpaper, you can find it at this link

[pochaccoups]

the seven deadly sins — seventeen hyung line ver. (18+)

SEUNGCHEOL —; ENVY

Seungcheol can’t help how often the daggers of jealousy sink into his heart. You’re you, after all. The fucking hot love of his life. He think it’s a little justified that seeing other men make you smile brings out this possessive, protective urge in him, because it’s him that should be making you smile and laugh.

He’s not an asshole though. He’s not the type to punch a guy for checking you out, or even for hitting on you when he’s not by your side. He’s not even the type to intimidate, or humiliate. Your relationship is built upon a steady foundation of trust, and he knows before you even get to tell him that you’ve politely let whoever know that you’re taken.

That means it’s you who’s on the receiving end of his pent up envy.

Harsh, merciless snaps of his hips drive your face deeper into the pillow, make your muffled moans grow louder. Your poor pussy weeps around his cock as it drives in and out of you, as though Seungcheol won’t relent until he’s carved the shape of it into your guts. Until your mind can only think about him, him, him.

It’s his name you sob like you’re praying for forgiveness, his cock that finds a home in your greedy walls, his mouth that marks your skin and leaves a message upon you—you’re being taken care of.

JEONGHAN —; GREED

When Yoon Jeonghan wants something, he will stop at nothing to get it.

You were a smart girl, and he liked that. He wanted to play games with you, and you saw through him. Pretended to play along so you could play your own games and string him along, all in the name of fun. He wanted you—badly. Wanted to make you go dumb, put you in your place. How badly did you want the same thing.

What you quickly learn, however, is that it is not enough for Yoon Jeonghan to finally get what he wants. Even when he’s finally managed to slither his way between your legs, made you cry on his tongue and then his cock, in his eyes remains something akin to hunger.

He needs more.

Seeing you fall apart at his hands has altered something in his brain.

“One more, pretty?” he asks, soft and angelic, as though he hasn’t turned your bones into jelly and filled your head with cotton. He draws circles on your tummy; presses a kiss to your hair in a way that makes you melt for him.

“Can’t, Hannie, ‘s too much,” you mumble, your throat like sandpaper.

“It’ll feel good,” he says, sliding his hand between your legs to play with your poor puffy clit, grinning as you whimper at the contact. “Yeah?”

Your reply comes as a pitiful, broken moan. When he gets you to your high, it comes as a gentle, pulsing wave, but you’ve reached heaven now, and Jeonghan has guided you there. You’re floating, brainless, and as your eyes flutter shut and you drift away into slumber, he knows he has won.

JOSHUA —; PRIDE

Joshua Hong. The man who’s got it all. The face, the body, the voice, the girl.

Every conversation he has is about you, you, you. You’re his phone lockscreen. His social media pages are made up of pictures of you. It’s almost insufferable, the way he doesn’t shut up about how perfect of a partner you are.

He buys you a one-of-a-kind engagement ring. He doesn’t tell you how much it’s worth, but secretly he’ll leak it to the press—a quarter of a million dollars and a two year wait for it to be crafted.

It should come as no surprise that he likes to film you taking his cock. It’s not enough for him to slide his cock into your heat, to bury it snug between your velvety walls—he needs a way of remembering the tight, slippery grip of your pretty cunt pulsing around him, and the shameless, debauched noises you make when he fucks you good. Work means he can be far from you sometimes, and timezones mean you can’t just call, so tapes it is.

They’re strictly for your and his eyes only—of course. However, what crosses his mind too often is a devilish little voice in the back of his head telling him to post it. Just make a burner account. She’ll never know. But he can’t bring himself to do it when the ring on your finger is a promise of his trust.

Instead he’ll leave his phone unlocked, opened on his camera roll where the videos haven’t been tucked away into the hidden folder ‘yet’, or ‘accidentally’ clicking the wrong thing when sending his friends photos and ‘not realising’ until an hour later that he’d exposed to them a short dim clip of him covering your tits with his cum.

He knows they want you. It’s not like they hide their wolfish stares, their drooling mouths, their licked lips. They’ll never have you, though, and he sleeps well at night knowing that. With you in his arms, too.

JUN —; LUST

Junhui is quite a wildcard— a mix of a little bit of every sin. Above all, however, he is just so full of desire. He’s got an unquenchable libido that is heightened when he’s in love. And you are his lucky victim.

It’s the littlest things you do that make him hard. It’s even things you don’t do. It’s the way your tits sit in a low cut top on a blistering summer’s day. It’s the way you like to run your hands through his hair when you’re lounging on the couch together, or sitting at the dinner table. It’s the way you call his name from another room with the sweetest lilt to your voice: “Junieee?”

It’s the way you take him so good, whether you’re bent over the kitchen counter or pressed up against the wall or rolled onto your side first thing in the morning. He’s so greedy for you, for the warm embrace of your wet, fluttering pussy and for the sound of your soft, blissful moans.

It doesn’t help that you’re always so wet, so open and ready for him. Knowing that does terrible things to his sanity. You’re so pliable when he gets his hands on you, so welcoming, letting him play with you as he pleases. You try to play it off as he kisses along your neck and gropes at your nipples through your shirt, pretend like he’s bothering you, but you’re not fooling anyone.

He’ll try to make things quick sometimes, make you cum on his fingers while he kisses you hard, or let you take him down your throat, but then it’s you who’s whining, batting your eyelashes because you want more. He’s ruined you. You’re perfect for him.

HOSHI —; GLUTTONY

Oh, he can’t get enough of you. When he gets his hands (or, well, his mouth) on you, it’s over.

Kwon Soonyoung would spend weeks on end between your legs if he only could. He’d give up food and water and shelter and money if it meant he could survive on your pussy alone. It’s enough sustenance, he swears it.

“Taste so sweet, baby,” he tells you, smeared and glistening with you all down his chin and neck. He's the image of debauchery, indulgence, shamelessness all at once. You look even worse for wear. Sweaty, lips puffy from being bitten, skin burning, hair tousled. Both of you look like sin.

It always starts so innocent. Well, as innocent as your boyfriend using your stomach or tits as a pillow can be. “Just taking a nap,” he’ll insist. Then his fingers start wandering, and his hand is down your pants, and his head is between your thighs.

“Just… Just a lil’ sip, yeah?” he’ll promise, and you never believe him as his tongue dives into your cunt. It’s never been ‘just a sip’. He makes you sob, makes you spill your nectar all over his tongue and drinks it like it’s the blood of the Lord until he’s intoxicated by it, hooked on it, his life depends on it. He’ll keep eating even though he’s full and you’re a quivering, writhing mess, and even then it still won’t be enough.

WONWOO —; WRATH

Wonwoo is not mean. He doesn’t have much of a temper. He’s calm. Patient. Soft-spoken. His best friends of ten years have only seen him yell once. Really, he’s the last person to be described as wrathful.

Somehow, though, you’ve figured out how to get on every last one of his nerves. He’s smitten with you, but fuck if you don’t raise his heart rate sometimes.

“Are you really wearing that out, baby?” he asks, eyes dropping to the where you tug at your miniskirt, only for it to ride back up to just beneath your ass the second you move again.

“Yeah, why?” you reply, tilting your head at yourself in the mirror. “You don’t think I look hot?”

“You do, but—”

“You think I look like a slut?”

“No, love. It’s two degrees out. I don’t want you to freeze.”

“You just don’t want other men looking at me, I get it. God, you’re so controlling.”

You don’t mean it. His jaw still clenches.

Then it’s a never-ending back and forth until you’ve managed to wear out every last thread of his patience, and he’s putting you on your knees and stuffing your mouth full of his cock in return for you putting words in his. He’ll fuck your throat until it’s raw and your mascara bleeds down your face, until his release spills on your tongue and he’s cooing at you to swallow it like a good girl.

Then he’ll ruin your pussy. Flip that stupid little miniskirt up over your ass and give you something to complain about.

WOOZI —; SLOTH

It’s a well-known fact that Jihoon is a laid-back man. Not quite lazy—when it comes to his work he’s very much the opposite. It's just that doesn’t put any more effort into things than he needs to.

His slothful sex habits don’t come from the fact that he thinks you should be doing all the work because he has an ego. It’s nothing like that. It’s that he likes to let you take what you want from him, what you need. Which is why, most of the time, he’ll sit back and let you do exactly that.

With his arms behind his head, he watches with his bottom lip snagged between his teeth as you ride his cock into tomorrow. He’s in no rush to cum. So long as you’re not done with him, he doesn’t feel the need.

You’re a vision, anyway; and him, a sort of voyeur. His head spins only from the sound of your soft, broken moans, your disheveled appearance, the spit and cum and the marks that run down your chest. Your tight pussy is heavenly too, fluttering so temptingly around him, so needy, and he's not even doing anything.

Eventually comes your soft whining. Like clockwork, your hips start to slow, your words edged with exhaustion. “Jihoonie, my thighs hurt…”

"Ah, poor thing," he coos, but even in your fucked-out state you can hear the faux-concern in his words. He reaches for your face, warm and damp with sweat, and cups your cheek, running his thumb over your spit-slicked lips. "You wanted my cock so bad, didn't you? Then take it yourself."

Your thighs burn, and walking will hurt in the morning, but the only way you will get an orgasm and a load from your boyfriend is if you do as he says, so you brace yourself against his chest, and you ride him hard.

[oh-three]

Tag game: judge me based on my: lockscreen, homescreen, pinterest board, and the last song i listened to.

Thanks for the tag, @stardustbee​ and @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius​! I’m sorry it took so long! 😂

As for the song, I've been listening to this on repeat for like a week straight:

I don't have Pinterest, so that's all from me.

NPT: @sinisterexaggerator @everettkross

[whateveriwant]

The 141 watching their partner give birth

Price

Is absolutely fascinated by the process

Constantly looking down there, slack jawed, telling you, "Honey, you've got to see this"

Makes you warn him waaaay too many times to not whip out his phone and start recording such an exposed view of between your legs

Does, however, receive your permission to take pictures/videos from a more "decent" angle (ones you can actually share with your friends and families, you know)

The picture he takes of you holding your child for the very first time? Yeah, say hello to his new lockscreen

Ghost

Looks down a few times but mostly keeps his focus up by your head

Gives oodles and oodles of soft praise telling you how good you're doing, how strong you are, how he knows you can do this

Has both hands on you throughout the delivery – one holding your thigh open, the other holding your hand for support

Is completely unfazed no matter how hard you squeeze him; doesn't so much as blink even as you almost break his fingers with your death grip

The only time he lets you go is to cut the umbilical cord (and then hold your child so so preciously in his massive hands)

Gaz

Doesn't have the stomach to look, but he does manage to cut the cord

Lots of petting your hair, applying cool cloths to your neck, whispering praise/encouragement in your ear

Reminds you to breathe when you forget to (and realizes he sometimes needs the reminder too)

Finds himself getting a little choked up seeing you in such pain, but has to hold himself together for both your sakes

Maintains his composure up until he hears your child's first cries, and then it's Niagara Falls streaming down his face, tons of wet kisses pressed to your sweaty temple

Soap

You'd think being surrounded by blood and guts on the regular would have prepared him for this moment, right?

Looks down once. Passes out immediately

Poor guy goes down like a sack of bricks and has to be dragged out of the way by a couple of nurses

Doesn't come to until after the birth is over, and is so incredibly apologetic/embarrassed/disappointed when he realizes what happened

But once he finally lays eyes on your child, he's lighting up like he just won the lottery and is smothering you both with all the love he has to offer

[xaliaver]

(the very pretty drawing is made by kikker-oma here on tumblr)

aaaand this is what i’ve been listening to on repeat for the past month :)

bacause I’m bored + I missed a bunch of tag game fun: I’m curious! share your datapad wallpaper + your latest song or playlist. I wanna hunt some new music, whatcha got?!?

@lonewolflupe @eobe @eclec-tech @badbatchposts @baddest-batchers @jetii @returnofthepineapple aaannndddd everyone else!

[heylolita00]

[deadhands69]

Black Coffee

Tenko Shimura/Tomura Shigaraki x gn Reader

Thanks for the request @s-0-ckz , this was so much fun to write! [1.2k wc]

“Black coffee, no room.” 

The man in front of you in line at your regular coffee shop grumbles his order before taking a seat near the window.

You try not to stare, it’s difficult though. 

There's something alluring about him. His presence feels oddly familiar, drawing you in. However, at the same time you've definitely never seen him or anyone quite like him in your life. For starters, he has distinctive scars, icy white hair, and vivid red eyes.

You peel your eyes away for long enough to stutter out your own order before taking a seat near him. He’s beautiful, in an otherworldly way, and you’re not sure if you’ll have the guts to ask for his number. Instead, you sit close-by in the hopes he’ll talk to you first. And you might stare a little.

He doesn’t, but his eyes flick up at you occasionally.

After forty minutes of debating in your head, you finally work up the courage to talk to him when he begins packing. He’s halfway through wrapping-up his laptop cord when he glances at you approaching him.

“Finally, I thought you’d never come over here.” The corner of his mouth quirks up into a smirk. A cute smirk. If you weren’t nervous already you certainly are now.

“Is there a reason I should have?” you ask tentatively.

“To say hi to me, I saw you staring.”

Oh. Fuck.

“Sorry, I-”

“It’s fine,” he laughs, “I almost came over earlier but figured I’d wait for you to talk to me.”

At that, a new surge of confidence overtakes you.

“Can I have your number?” you blurt out before your nerves can stop you.

“Yeah.”

You type it into your phone as he recites the numbers to you. Opening a ‘save contact’ page, you click the name field. Rather than save him as ‘cute coffee shop boy,’ you ask, “what’s your name?”

“Fucking seriously?” he groans, “nevermind.” 

Before you can say anything in return, he shoves past you and he’s out the door. You watch as his long hair swirls around him in the wind. 

Then he’s gone.

What just happened?

Over the next few days, you dwell on it more than you’d like to admit. Who is this mystery guy and why is he so angry with you? At first you were disappointed that someone so attractive is upset with you, but his irritability is off putting so you got over that fast. Now you’re just angry.

On your morning stops for coffee, he’s there every day. You’d never seen him here before but now he’s around constantly, glaring at you every time you enter. You’ve been taking your coffee to go lately just to avoid any awkwardness. 

This morning, you’ve had it. What right does he have to take one of your favorite places from you? You were here first. Also, it’s not like you did anything wrong. If he’s going to be grouchy, that’s on him.

“[y/n]” the barista calls out. You grab the ceramic mug before looking around for a spot.

This time, you’re the only two customers in here. Avoiding him and whatever temper he’s hiding today will be nearly impossible. Partially out of spite, you settle into a window seat directly facing him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him roll his eyes. He’s hot, even when he’s staring daggers in your direction and you hate that you’re even having that thought. You try hard not to look at him, pretending to have some sudden interest in the condensation dripping down the window.

After twenty minutes pass without issue, you figure he got over it. Not quite.

“Have you figured it out yet?” he taunts from two tables away. 

“Figured what out?”

“Seriously?” he looks at you incredulously, “you really don't remember me?”

Remember him from where? You’d remember someone with cherry red eyes and long milky hair.

You stare at him inquisitively. He almost reminds you of your best friend growing up, it can’t be him though. Tenko died in a villain attack with his family years ago. Plus, he had darker hair and eyes. You’d remember, a photo of the two of you as kids is your lockscreen background.

“I’m sorry, I don’t.”

He looks more sad than angry as he turns his back to you and leaves again.

That night, you’re still thinking about it. It’s driving you crazy and you’d rather just be done with it. You decide to text him. Not like there’s anything to lose, right?

[you] Where do I know you from? [you] Can you just give me a hint? [cute angry coffee shop boy] I can’t believe you just forgot me like that, after everything. wtf [y/n]

You never gave him your name. Maybe he overheard it from the barista.

The two of you exist in the same space, not talking for the next few mornings. You’ve given up on thinking of where you could possibly have met him and he’s given up pushing you. Yet, he’s still here when surely there’s somewhere else he could be. 

Today, the shop is packed. The sound of ceramic clinking and low conversations drown out the lofi played in the background. You’re glad to find the one open chair in the place until you see who it’s next to. 

“I won’t bite, just fucking sit,” says the man who’s name you still don’t know. He pulls the chair out for you, not bothering to look up. 

You glance at the full mug you’re holding; you should have gotten it to go. Reluctantly, you sit. Pulling out your phone to read an article and ignoring him as much as you can. A few minutes later, the barista calls out your pastry order. You drop your phone on the table and make your way to the counter.

On the short walk back, you see your phone buzz on the table ahead. A head of white hair turns to the distraction and freezes.

You sit, trying to carry on with your morning, but the man next to you is still staring. He doesn’t move, even after you sit down. He looks like he saw a ghost.

“Thought you didn’t care,” he mumbles quietly.

“What are you talking about?”

“Do I really look that different now?” he picks up your phone, holding the display next to his face. 

Outside of the hair and eye color, the resemblance is uncanny. How did you not notice?

“T-Tenko?” you whisper, “you-you’re alive?”

No wonder he was upset, the two of you were best friends as kids. You never could have imagined seeing him again. Without thinking, you wrap your arms around him; practically jumping onto his lap. 

“I can’t believe it’s you,” you half sob into the hood of his sweatshirt. He even smells like you remember. 

The two of you spend the rest of the day catching up. In what feels like less than an hour, the place is empty and your favorite barista is flipping the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed.’

“Time to finish your drinks,” he says, “didn’t think I’d see you two talking all day.” He disappears into the back to finish cleaning.

Tenko looks at you, nervous for the first time since you’ve met him again. “Uhm,” he starts, “want to grab dinner? I get it if you already have plans and need to go but it would be nice to talk more.”

“No,” you clarify, “I mean, I have no plans. I’d love to.”

“Perfect,” he smiles, “it’s a date then.”

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