#respect dni

[dino-boyo-agere]

I hate it when nsfw accounts just dismiss my DNI and reblogg my stuff...

Is there any way I can delete/ take down their reblogg of my content?

Someone reblogged one of my posts and put tags like ab/dl and ab dl lifestyle unter it..

I already messaged them to kindly ask if they could take it down and please read & respect DNIs in the future.. But if they don't want to take it down themselves, is there anything I can do?

.ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･».ﾟ°･⁠✧ ↓ DNI ↓ ✧･° ﾟ.«･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ.

[cuddly-princess]

Makes me so angry when people don't respect my DNI...I don't wanna be associated with nsfw stuff!!! I'm not gonna be nice about it anymore...got my angry eyes on 😡😡

[rampage33]

Val — Canadian | having a gender crisis idc what pronouns you call me for now

YES I named myself after Val from the Polytechnique movie

Just leaving a record of my life like every other teenager on this app

DNI if -15 or 25+ or a cishet man

[junotter]

All the jokes about Ken and horses are good but I just wanna say it's such a good parallel to how actual young men get swept into misogyny and the patriarchy.

Like they're told to believe it means men get to be cool and manly and have this power but with that comes extremely rigid commands of what they can be as a man and a cycle of self hatred for never matching those gender roles perfectly. Patriarchy tells men that if they just do exactly what is expected of them, then they get all the "cool stuff" that comes with. That doesn't work though when there's only a small group that actually gets that power, but men will keep trying to fit into those roles in hopes that they can.

In the end there are no horses or the myth men are told, it's just endless cycles of self hatred and ingroup fighting.

[sprout-fics]

dunno if imissed thurs thots bc time zone is an arse but i pilled an allnighter and needed some smit to keep going bc coffeee aint doing it job anymore so heres a copy paste of my idea from when i was actuallyawake

hallo! so taking a page from the spider verse movie, what if reader did yell out a safeword? there is an “aftercare for a red moment” hole in the fic community (or im just blinded by the algorithm who knows)

So this is a really interesting concept, and also a good way to discuss proper sex practices, so thank you anon!

For those unaware, the color system (Green, yellow, red) is typically associated with BDSM practices. Green is all clear, yellow is slow down/change tactics, and red is full stop, change into aftercare mode. However this system is not exclusively designed for kink related practices, it can be a useful tool for even vanilla sex. Please remember to always check in with your partners and obtain enthusiastic consent before engaging in sexual activities. I am not an expert in this area, so please remember to do your own independent research if you are curious about this topic.

(Warning: Uncomfortable sexual scenarios and use of safe words, please read at your own discretion)

The Color Red

(TF 141 reacting to you using a safe word during sex)

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish

You’re not really sure what does it, but something inside you drops abruptly, without warning as Soap’s hand wraps around your throat. 

There’s not even any pressure, just a heavy grasp that circles under your jaw but it’s enough to make something in you rise in panic, blood chilling and breath seizing inside your chest

He’s still hunches over you, your legs wrapped around his hips, brow scrunched in pleasure, voice dragging as he tries to angle himself just right to graze against the soft spongy part of you he knows will make you go boneless in his arms

Whatever pleasure was tightening low across your hips dies as a cold, fearful wash of dread takes its place, the world spinning as you drop fast.

“Red.” You croak, voice trembling, abruptly, entire body going rigid with panic.

It’s over in an instant. Soap knows what the word means, is trained to respond at the first instinct of discomfort, and within a blink his hand is gone, his weight off of you

You curl over onto your side, eyes wide and shoulders trembling, wetness still on the inside of your thighs but air rising sharply as hyperventilation threatens to take over

Soap’s weight is off the bed, giving you space, but when he notices your breathing he kneels beside you at once, eyes brimming with worry

“Hen, sweetheart, it’s alright.” He coos softly, words echoing as a steady stream, a reminder to his nearby presence. “You’re safe, we’re done. Breathe for me, You’re alright.”

“Johnny.” You gasp, reaching for him, and he obliges instantly, maneuvering you both so he sits against the headboard and puts your head into his lap, positioning a pillow underneath it. 

“I’m here.” He reminds you, a hand stroking along your shoulder in soothing circles as you try to control your breathing, listening to him breathe alongside you. Deep inhale, hold for 4, out for 7. Repeat.

“What do you need, hen?” He asks after a few minutes, after the panic has faded to a dull bite, once you stop shuddering and instead curl into an exhausted heap at his side.

You sigh out a shuddering exhale, feel his thumb graze across the top of your shoulder. Gentle, patient, devoted.

“You, Johnny.” You tell him at last. “Just you.”

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

“Red.”

You gasp it out unexpectedly in Gaz’s bed, hands secured above your head as he bends over you, three fingers curling inside you, smug smile plastered over his face as he tries to wring another orgasm from you despite you telling him you can’t, and him finding another, another anyways

Now, however, it’s finally too much, and when he presses just right the sensation it summons is less pleasurable and more aching, stretching an overworn muscle that leaves something twisting unpleasantly inside you

“Oh shit, doll.” He gasps at the word, and slowly withdraws his fingers to not cause you additional discomfort. You whine, but the sound catches in your throat, pleading and tender. “I’m sorry, shh, take a breath for me.”

He reaches up above you, pulls at the rope and it comes loose easily, allows your hands to sink into the pillows and reduces the strain on your shoulders. 

“Hey, hey, I got you.” He murmurs as you shudder, face contorting at the unpleasant ache inside you

He drags you into his arms, and you don’t complain at all, curling into his steady frame as he tucks you against his chest

“You did good.” He tells you at once, reassuring, gentle. “Promise you did good. Just take your time.”

You nuzzle against the coarse, curly hair of his chest, feel him stroke a hand against your back as the ache inside you dies to a low murmur

“I’m okay.” You tell him after a few minutes, taking all the time you need to fully relax into his embrace “It just…it was so much.”

Kyle exhales then, a breath you didn’t realize had been holding. His form goes a little lax against you, relieved by your words

“I’m sorry, doll.” He tells you at once. “I should have stopped sooner.”

You shake your head a little, remind him gently “That’s what the colors are for. I’m alright, just-” and you wince. “Tender.”

You feel him smile into your hair, mouth tugging just an inch, his body warm, solid, reaffirming against yours

“We can fix that.” He tells you softly. “How about I run you a bath and get you cleaned up, hmm?”

You nod, pause, and then crane your head up to plant a kiss against his lips

“Sounds wonderful.”

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Sex with Simon can usually be an intense, emotional affair, an experience where you try and carve space within each other through touch, seeking a balm to the brokenness, soothing to the fear and hurt 

Yet there are also times when you both just need release

Which is where you are now, face down, his hands hauling yours behind your back, hips slapping against your pelvis with a rapid, brutal intensity that’s going to leave you pleasantly sore for days

His voice is a grinding, rumbling presence that doesn’t allow you to drift entirely off, forcing you back into the presence of him. A hand tangles in your hair, presses you down into the sheets as he growls lewd, filthy praise down at you

Yet there’s a hint of malice to it, and normally you’d welcome it, send it right back to him, teeth bared and spirit a bright flame that burns against his darkness

Now, however, each word seems to puncture through you, as he hisses ‘Slut. Pretty little whore.’ down at you

You want to take it, want it to feed the coiling need as he buries himself inside you, but tonight it sounds almost like Simon means it.

It hurts.

It forces you to drop so fast it gives you whiplash, mind reeling and you have to remind yourself to say the word that bleeds across your tongue.

“Red.”

Simon stops instantly, removes his hand from your hair like he’s been burned.

You barely even notice, caught in your own turmoil of thoughts, trying to find your way out of the labyrinth. You don’t even notice as he pulls out from you, but the sudden emptiness only feeds the fall, makes a sob curl in your throat as you try and fail to swallow it down

He’s gone from the bed, you notice, and if anything it makes you panic more.

“S-Simon.” He try, voice wavering, and as if you’ve summoned him he appears back at your side, his voice gentler now but strained, guilty

“Here, pet.” A hand against your spine, a feathering touch given only as a mild offering before you give him permission to touch you, to which you gasp “Please.”

The touch becomes firmer, fingers pulling at the rigidness coiled in your frame, and after a moment there’s the cool touch of a washcloth that wipes the sweat from your skin.

“Y-you didn’t mean it, did you?” You try at last, not moving yet, knowing he’d only hush you back into stillness, make sure you didn’t push yourself too fast too soon

Simon takes a moment to process, realization washing over him at why you invoked your color.

“No, never.” He tells you, voice a little distant, and you know the faint unhappiness that colors his own voice isn’t for you but for him, tearing at himself for causing you hurt

You take care of him too, knot your fingers between his in tender reassurance, reminding him that even as he hovers at your side, you stay beside him too

Captain John Price

You’re trying to soldier through it, the pain that wraps around your thigh as he hauls it over his shoulder, braces it on the broad planes of his frame

Your hands are fisted in the sheets, chest heaving as Price forces his tongue into your cunt, fingers digging red marks into your opposite leg. There’s pleasure coiling n your core with every stripe of his tongue, dragging whimpering moans from your throat

It’s soured, however, by the wrapping on your thigh, the stitched bullet hole radiating pain. The sharp ache drowns any potential pleasure that rises inside you and you try to grit your teeth against it, force it down in pursuit of the warmth of price’s breath against your folds

You can’t. You can’t do it, not with tears beginning to well in your eyes and the sounds coming from transitioning into whimpers of pain. 

“John.” You manage, strained, and for a moment Price is so absorbed in his task he almost doesn’t hear you. “J-John, red. Red.”

Price’s head shoots up, his ears attuned to that word specifically, and when he does you see slick coating his chin, his eyes flickering brightly in worry.

A sob bursts from your chest at the sight, dragging with pain, eyes hot and wet as you press a hand to the red blossoming bandage. 

He surmises the situation quickly, and instantly he’s rising off you, nearly vanishing from you entirely, giving you a bit of space before sitting back down beside you and gently bending your leg onto his lap

“Shh, it’s alright love.” He reassures you, a hand reaching up to stroke at your sweaty forehead, against your brow bunched in worry. “I’ve got you, you’re alright.”

“I’m sorry.” You blurt out even as his fingers knead into your calf. “I didn’t- it hurts.”

“Never apologize for using your colors.” The captain tells you sternly, and he holds your eyes on him, levying you with a disciplining stare that ensures your compliance. You nod, sniffling, and it makes some of the grimness melt from his eyes, tendered with affection

“Where are your pain meds?” He asks then, a hand gently tracing over the bloodied bandage, and you nod to the bedside drawer.

He nods absently, one hand still braced on your leg, the other reaching past you to withdraw the bottle from the assembly of items there

“You’re going to take these.” He tells you without question, drawing your gaze back to him once more. “We’ll get you cleaned up, and then get something warm in your stomach so they go down sunny, yes?”

You sniffle and nod at him, still feeling a little embarrassed, still in pain. Yet it’s softer now with his touch as his eyes turn to you fondly.

“Might even get you some hair of the dog for good measure.” He offers, and it at last summons a shy but warm smile from you

------

Again, if your partner every signals they are uncomfortable during sex, stop, talk, and proceed as needed. If anyone ever disrespects you signaling you are uncomfortable or blatantly ignores your safeword, do not engage with them further. Stay safe, stay sane, and stay consensual

[lore-gore]

I think the reason us helluva boss/hazbin hotel fans get so defensive about criticism is because a lot of the "critics" just hate vivzie and the shows themselves. It's come to the point that any criticism for this show feels like an angry mob. In any other fandom I'm fine with criticism, but the fact that "critics" have said that they can't wait for viv's downfall + even wished that she died has made me hostile towards it. Haters have taken over the critique part of the fandom and turned it into a cesspool of disgusting rage. That level of hate towards a creator is unfathomable. Why do they think this is okay?

[yeyinde]

the Simon baby-trapping fic is finally finished but where Price was the fluffy, 80s sitcom (but one filled with gone girl-esque mutual manip, morally ambiguous shenanigans), Simon is what happens when you try to tame a rabid dog.

his idea of want in this is like a child trapping a firefly inside a pretty glass jar filled with shredded grass, leaves, broken sticks, dirt, and crushed flowers. everything is perfect; cosy. comfortable—

but he forgot to poke holes in the lid.

[novasteri]

guys the brainrot has consumed me

[10reallybigants]

Me when my ideology is so rock solid and defendable that I have to spam tags discussing women's rights in an attempt to silence women. (people have been shouting over women for centuries to keep us from having discussions and being heard. it still isn't different)

calling women bitches in your reblogs is just proving my point 🫶🫶🫶

I've seen people threaten suicide over radfems in trans tags but RULES FOR THEE NOT FOR ME right.

At least their reach is too small to do anything significant 🥰 I had all the spammers reported and blocked in like 2 mins XD

[cuddly-princess]

• mini rant below •

if you can't respect my dni you WILL be blocked. i go through every account that interacts with me whether it's a like or a repost... basically if you interact with my account in any way just know i'm going to look through your account. i found someone who liked a post of mine and almost broke down in tears at the content of their account. i've already had to block 3 people because they apparently can't read or simply don't care about my dni. unfortunately i expect this to happen again and again. but PLEASE read the dni before interacting with me. i should've done this from the beginning, but from now on i will be adding a mini dni to each post.

[crowsdove]

Your f/o(s) would never judge or shame or bully or infantilize you because of your triggers, no matter what they are. No matter if they don't have a problem with the thing themselves, no matter how silly or weird the thing may seem. No matter what.

They will always be more than happy to help you avoid your triggers whenever they show up because they love you, and your safety and your comfort are what matters most to them. They will immediately do whatever calms you down, be it distracting you in some way, getting you to another area away from the trigger, or anything else that helps you.

Even if it happens in the middle of a movie (even if they were super invested in watching it), they'd immediately turn it off. They would never treat you like an inconvenience or a burden. They just want you to be okay and be happy. They'd even check on that trigger website (if it covers yours) before you watch something together because they want to be extra sure that it'll be safe for you.

If you suddenly encounter something that triggers you when you're playing a video game, after calming you down your f/o would figure out how to get past it for you so you don't have to deal with it any more and so you can still play the rest of the game if you wanted to (unless it stays like that of course).

Your f/o has the utmost respect for you and it really shows in their care for you. And if anybody ever mistreats you because of your triggers? Even if your f/o isn't the confrontational type, you better believe that they're standing up for you. There's no way they're letting anybody upset you further, no matter who it is doing it. They will always have your back.

Your f/o loves and respects you more than anything. Even if it feels like nobody else does, your f/o always will.

*~•~°~+~*~+~°~•~*

> antis please dni <

*~•~°~+~*~+~°~•~*

[yuenity]

if I see one more person saying Izzy behaved the way he did in s1 because he wanted power/control over Ed I’m going to lose my mind. How do you misinterpret a character that fucking badly

[sillystimmings]

❓: “you’re appealing to my ego.”

🎃: “is it working?”

x x x / x x x / x x x

[gramforgram]

I'm gonna put my hot take here: I don't get what the big deal is about "requiring" an age in bio from your followers or else.

like, I put my age range on my main and my actual age on my NSFW, but it honestly feels like compulsory doxxing and comes with the assumption that minors won't just... lie?

maybe I'm too old school but I assume that anyone could be lying on the internet—even popular users I follow!—and I just don't have any personal responsibility for the potential risk of exposure towards minors.

obviously if I take notice that a minor is like, following me or something on my NSFW, I'll take appropriate action. but I believe a state of paranoid monitoring and policing is bad, actually, regardless of its good intentions

[mr-payjay]

hey apparently there are haters following me and i just want to say i fully support mspec lesbians, mspec gays, lesboys, gaygirls, gaybians, etc etc and any queer good faith identities that are contradictory or confusing or """"wrong""". my own identity and some of my friends' identities fit this definition completely. if you don't like this you can unfollow me 👍

[literary-motif]

Hey girl your writing is AMAZING and so CHEFS KISS.

Could you please write an NSFW of Isaac and listener on listeners birthday? (Tots not my birthday 🫣) and Isaac being the dominant one and all 🤭

Happy (belated) birthday. I hope you had a lovely day. Thank you for the request!

Birthday Gift (NSFW)

Isaac Rhoades x Reader

The door to the bedroom falls shut silently. Isaac is on you in an instant, cupping your cheeks and connecting his lips to yours in a soft kiss. The gentleness he pours into his movements catches you off guard, not expecting the infinite care you feel in his touch when the heat between you two is so palpable.

Isaac has been teasing you with soft squeezes and lingering lips all day, riling you up until you could not take any more and demanded that he follow up on his whispered promises. After all, it is incredibly unfair to tease you like that on your birthday. Judging by the tent in his slacks, he has run out of patience as well.

Slowly, he backs you towards your shared bed, keeping his lips locked with yours. His steps are slow and measured. He seemingly has all the time in the world to guide you backwards as if caught in a dance, until your legs hit the bedpost and a moan escapes you, muffled by his lips.

Your eagerness makes Isaac smirk. “I think you’ll like the surprise I have for you,” he whispers, looking at you with dark eyes. His pupils are blown wide with lust, the sight of his already disheveled state causing a thrill of excitement to shoot through you. With his gentle push against your shoulder, you fall onto the bed.

Isaac ravishes you so well, that the knot in your stomach tightens just thinking about what he will do to you.

“Is it really a surprise though?” you tease, backing up on the bed to lay on the mattress properly. “I already know what you— you will—” Isaac smiles mischievously before joining you on the bed, propping himself up to lean over you, his face mere inches from yours. His closeness and the intensity of his gaze make you stumble over your words, suddenly nervous. His proximity has that effect on you, especially when you can feel his soft breath fawning across your face.

“Yes?” he tilts his head to purr into your ear. “When you already know what?”

“When I—” you begin, caught off by his mouth on your neck. He places open-mouthed kisses against your sensitive skin, one of his hands finding itself tangled in your hair while the other trails down your clothed chest, teasing you with soft touches. When Isaac finds the spot that has you squirming under him, he nibbles on it, encouraged further by the moan that escapes you. “When—” He sucks on it gently, making you lose your train of thought again. Isaac moves his lips to your pulse point, humming in satisfaction at your elevated heartbeat against them.

“When you what, Pickle?” he asks, ceasing to leave marks on you for a moment to raise his head and look into your hazy eyes. The pleasure clouding your thoughts was his doing, and he took pride in seeing you so undone beneath him. So needy for him. He places a knee in between your legs, nudging them further apart.

“Fuck,” you curse, exhaling shakily as his movement went straight to your core. “When I know what you’ll do next,” you finish. That idea was already disproven. You weren’t used to Isaac being quite so teasing.

“Oh,” he says, amusement coloring his tone as he bends down to pepper kisses on your face, “and you think I’m only going to do the usual and fuck you into the mattress until there are no thoughts left in that beautiful head of yours? On your special day at that? Not a chance.” His filthy words contrast so starkly with his soft kisses that you can’t help but blush, but before you can look away, his fingers take hold of your chin, gently forcing you to keep looking at him. “Today is all about you. I will take my time.”

“Isaac,” you whine, not at all interested in the drawn-out teasing he has just promised you. The need burning within you makes you buck your hips against his knee, running your fingers through his hair and pulling just the way he likes to make his resolve crumble. “Come on, just fuck me already.”

In a heartbeat, Isaac pins your wrists above your head, chuckling at the pout you give him. “None of that,” he says, kissing and sucking on your neck again. “I want you to stay still and relax for me. You don’t need to do anything right now, alright? Can you do that for me?”

His lips on your skin make your eyes flutter shut. “Yeah,” you breathe, resigned to your fate and battling your impatience in favor of just feeling the moment and enjoying Isaac’s touch. It is significantly harder to suppress the urge to wrap your arms around his neck, scratching his back as you turn into putty under his hands. 

“Good,” he praises between kisses, “so good for me. So Good. I love you.” His touch trails from your wrists down your arms, moving slowly across your neck until Isaac reaches your chest, working the buttons of your shirt open with skilled fingers. 

His words of praise make you shudder, pleasure coiling within you as your shirt falls open and Isaac kisses a trail down your chest until he reaches your stomach. “Love— Love you too,” you sigh, trying not to move your hips against him. 

Isaac teases you relentlessly, making you squirm as he caresses your hips with a touch so feather-light it could be imaginary. “I thought I told you to hold still,” he says with a smirk, looking up at you as he places another kiss against your lower belly, hands brushing along your inner thighs in a movement that has you whining in frustration.

“And I thought you wanted to surprise me with a birthday gift,” you say breathlessly, glancing at Isaac kneeling between your spread legs, the sight alone making your mouth water. His hands are still resting on your hips, thumbs tracing small circles into the hollow of your inner thighs. “You are torturing me instead! Come on, please.”

He raises an eyebrow, hands freezing their motion. “Torturing you?” he asks in feigned disbelief, his voice carrying a dangerous undertone. You moan quietly. “We can’t have that now, can we?” Isaac smiles darkly at you. “Spread your legs, then. Further.”

It takes him less than a minute to be buried to the hilt inside of you, stretching you so deliciously it makes you mewl. He barely gives you time to adjust before moving, picking up the pace immediately. “Shit, Isaac—” you gasp, moans tumbling from your lips as he snaps his hips against yours, filling you up and stretching you out.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” he groans, placing his hand on your stomach and pressing down slightly, feeling himself move inside of you. “Didn’t you want me to fuck you like this? Were you not begging for it? Well, I’m sure you feel me now.” 

You hold onto his arms, trying to anchor yourself through the brutal pace he sets in rolling his hips against yours. “Yes,” you breathe, your grip tightening as he hits a spot that makes your toes curl. “Yes, right there. Please.”

Isaac stops moving and you nearly sob in frustration. He reaches toward something by his side and tilts forward, towering over you. “I told you not to move, I believe,” he says darkly, pinning your wrists above your head again. “Guess I’ll have to use my tie to keep you where I want you.”

You glance upwards, watching him wrap his tie around your wrists. The sight of the red fabric tying you up makes your breath hitch, eyes falling shut briefly to savor the feeling of it against your skin, Isaac himself trapping you beneath him. You will never be able to look at that tie without thinking about him inside you again.

“Is this alright?” he whispers suddenly, your eyes opening again to gaze at the soft expression on his face. “Not too tight? How do you feel?”

The genuine concern in his eyes makes your heart melt, warmth spreading across your chest that has nothing to do with the heat curling in your stomach. Isaac makes you feel safe and sometimes that thought alone is enough to bring tears to your eyes. You trust him with all of you, and you know he does the same. “Perfect,” you answer, smiling brightly at him. There is so much you want to tell him, your heart already overflowing with affection for him. Still, you settle on a teasing, “But I’d feel better if you kissed me right now.” 

He complies because of course he does, propping himself up on his elbows to kiss you deeply. One of his hands moves to your thigh, shifting it to spread your legs apart before his cock claims you again.

The new angle allows him to reach further into you, tearing even more moans from you as you slowly succumb to the rising tide of pleasure. Isaac increases the pace, fucking into you faster as he can feel your thighs trembling against his sides. 

“You’re doing so well,” he says, breaking the kiss to murmur against the skin of your cheek. “Beautiful. You’re so beautiful, I wish you could see yourself like this. All fucked out— just for me. You’re mine. Mine.” 

“Isaac—” you moan, feeling yourself reaching your peak of pleasure, “I’m gonna— I need to— please!”

He grabs your waist, keeping it steady as he moves his cock inside you with renewed vigor. “Me too,” he pants, placing his lips on yours again, “It’s alright, let go. Come for me, beautiful. That’s it. Happy Birthday.”

You shudder against him as your high crashes over you, gasping his name as you come on his cock. Isaac bucks his hips a few more times, following soon after with a cry of pure bliss. He pants heavily for a few moments, pulling out slowly before reaching up and freeing your hands from his tie. 

Lying down next to you, he observes your heaving chest for a moment. “How are you feeling?” he asks, taking your hand and massaging the spot where his tie had dug into your skin.

“Good. Thank you,” you answer, leaning your forehead against his. “A very special birthday gift, Isaac. You outdid yourself.”

He chuckles, his hand coming to rest on your hip again. “Catch your breath, Pickle. The day isn’t over yet.”