#submit: accepted

[petermustdie]

my beautiful wives

[shotmrmiller]

response to this but it got so long and ig im in my throuple era rn

@xoxunhinged i listened to one (1) song on repeat while writing this on the phone

okay yeah wait or just

it's ghost x price first.

Big burly men taking up too much space in the little coffee shop you work at or something and they're there like clockwork too. Every wednesday and friday, 8 am, usually the first clients of the day and all they order is a regular cup of joe. Plain. You offer alternative sweeteners, powdered creamer, but no dice.

Plain black. Like the occasional smudge of eyeliner(?) around the bigger one's eyes.

They're cute, in their own way. John is a blend of rugged charm and seasoned wisdom. The other, Simon, is mysterious. Guarded. Speaks only to his companion.

The pet names start to get to your head. Of course, you reason that John's just not from around here. His calling you sweetheart from across the room to grab your attention must be English.

But logic cannot stop the heat from licking up your cheeks when he does. or when Simon calls you something different altogether eventually.

"Mornin', pet."

It's even more gut-twisting when you catch glimpses of the occasional PDA: A large hand curling around an even bigger jean-clad thigh. Faces so close they could kiss (Waterboarding couldn't get the fact that you've rubbed your thighs together at the thought of them actually kissing out of you) and the fact that Simon's usually sharp gaze softens around the edges, pale gold whispering against the puckered pink of a barely visible scar beneath his face mask.

A couple. They're a couple. It's bittersweet, that feeling settling in your chest. Like dark chocolate coating your tongue. Honeyed nectar of love, the bitter bite of it not being your own.

Maybe it's time to go out with your friends to the bar.

Things take a nasty turn when Simon, out of the both of them, had come in alone and propositioned you on crisp, saturday morning.

Oh, the acid in your stomach felt like it was corroding the walls of your esophagus as it rose. You don't remember much of what you said but it'd been loud, vitriolic. You'd been so furious. Hurt that they had something so sweet, something they could call their own, and here comes this big dumb oaf looking for a piece of warm meat to stick his cock into on the side.

Your manager sent you home for the day.

And home you were headed, well more like the bus stop, stomping away and across the street but the hand that wraps around your arm to keep you in place is John's. (You'd been actually fighting to get away and he hadn't even tightened his grip enough to hurt. embarrassing.)

He clears things up. Tells you to forgive Simon, he's not the most verbose or eloquent with the words he does choose to speak. "He's good at receivin' orders instead of givin' 'em. isn't tha' righ'?"

The "yes, sir" that comes out of Simon is immediate. Obedient. Submissive. (gagging, i actually slammed the desk with my fist rn) A man who knows his place because it is etched in stone. Your teeth grind like rusted gears to keep from turning into a pool of liquid in broad daylight.

"What he meant," he roughly clarifies, "is that we would like you to share our bed." your face burns hot enough to sting. "If you want," John continues, limpid blue eyes fixed on your own.

He looks rather handsome in his uncertainty.

They don't even let you go home to wash and clean up when you nod. (Or shave. Simon had very audibly scoffed at your complaint about that. Said something crass about eating lollipops off the carpet)

The dynamic had been exactly what you'd expected it to be in the bedroom. When authority spoke, Simon listened. Intently. Without hesitation. When John ordered Simon— who'd sat with his broad chest curling around your spine, cocooning you in warmth and the faint scent of smoke, mahogany, and leather— to hook his hands behind your knees and pull your legs up to your shoulders, he'd done so in an instant.

The subtle burn of your hamstrings stretching pulled a hiss from your kiss-swollen lips.

"Bit o' pain with pleasure never hurt anyone, eh, sweetheart?" The deepened rumble of John's voice vibrated in your chest and made your toes curl.

Simon's steady breaths are drowned out by your shuddering ones when John puts his mouth on you, the prickle of his facial hair tickling your sensitive, heated skin.

The burning stretch of your muscles is nothing compared to the sweet sting of two fingers sinking into your hot sex. Pleasure wells in the corner of your eyes when he curls and scissors them while his slick tongue swirls your clit languidly.

He sends you over the edge with practiced ease, shaky limbs, and unsteady mewls. The kiss he plants on your still pulsing cunt is tender, as are your now unrestrained legs.

And he slants his lips-- still dripping slick, dewy beads collecting on his beard-- over Simon's whose mask is now long gone, his erection coming to sit heavy on the fatty mound of your pussy. You can feel the heat of his cock even through his clothes.

A saliva strand connecting them two snaps as he pulls away, glancing down to look at you, sweaty and unkempt, glassy eyes shamelessly staring back.

"I'd let Simon get his turn but," hands weave up your shirt and inside your sports bra while John's grab your legs and wrap them around his thick waist, "gotta prep ya first."

(?)

That comes back to mind after your limbs feel like cold syrup, warmth dribbling from your puffy lips and falling onto the damp bedsheets beneath your arse cheeks.

The question answers itself when Simon slots himself between your aching legs, uncut cock fat and hefty.

(dis)Respectfully, you feel thoroughly used and even now, that doesn't look like it's going to go in easy.

"Easy, love," John's voice comes from above you, "He won't hurt ya. Isn't tha' righ', Simon?"

Simon, who's dark eyes hadn't moved from where John's spend still steadily flowed, cut to him instantly. "Yes, sir."

He hums, a low, raspy sound. "How 'bout you tell our bird tha'?"

A rough hand wraps around your neck, thumb pressed on your fluttering pulse. "I won't hurt ya." His grip tightens, and the swoosh of blood roaring in your ears is deafening.

Much.

The world around you fades, senses attuned only to what's currently wrenching your swollen walls apart, going in, in, and in, it feels never-ending, it's so much, too much, until--

Your stomach clenches, it feels like it's folding in on itself, and a sharp feeling radiates below your navel.

Lips kiss your sweaty temple. "That's all there is. Did so well, eh, sweetheart? Took 'im real good, like you were meant for it."

His cock drags along your over-sensitive, raw nerves in a way that has fire licking up your spine as he pulls back. "Easy, Simon. You'll get your fun from me," John assures.

Your cunt clenches unbidden at that, vise-like around Simon who quietly groans.

The first roll of his hips pushes the air from your lungs, the second blanks your jumbled mind, the third has your nails sinking into whoever's forearms are beside your head, and the fourth has you confusing John's glittering eyes with stars.

And then he places your feet flat on his chest, his weight folding you in half, pinning you in place. Nowhere to run.

Your teeth clack when he thrusts firmly, tip of his cock sitting firmly against the plug of your womb.

"Easy does it, love. Jus' be good 'n take it," John mutters into your ear.

As if you had any choice.

After, when you're completely spent, they tell you to lay back, head propped up by a mountain of pillows, but to keep your legs open, let them see that pretty pussy, they want to see their cum spill out of you.

You thought the fucking Simon gave you had been rough. What John gives him from behind is attempted murder. He grabs at Simon's hair like it's the scruff of a bellicose dog. Pins him in place with his words, growled, thunderous, then his grip. Simon doesn't bare his crooked teeth once.

When your tired hand slithers down to between your legs, tips of your fingers smearing cum around your swollen flesh, arousal surprisingly panging deep in your core, the sheer force of John's thrusts rocks the bed with enough force to crack the wall and Simon whines like a dog in heat.

[102ki]

[biorust-art]

Jaded Punk Rock Fall Guy, literally.

Beloved. He's like a poison dart frog. This version of Ashton is brought to you by my own cosplay, so the patches you see are ones that I've made :0

Lyrics are from Best Friends by Granson, a very Ashton song.

[Image Description. Two drawings of Ashton Greymoore from Critical Role. The first is a collection of Ashtons in different poses, all in their original black and red outfit. First is them sitting and leaning back with one leg up and arm propped up on said leg. Second is them kneeling down with one knee on the ground and an arm propped on the other knee with their head in their hand, looking bored. Third is a shot of them kicking the camera, with his boot taking up most the space, he gives the middle finger and smiles at the person he's kicking. Fourth is them squatting down with one hand on their face and the other relaxed to the ground, they look as if they are hearing someone say something stupid. The final is bust up with Ashton making a two-finger gun to his unbroken temple, their tongue is out as they smile. The figures are outlined in red, purple and blue with chaotic lines in the empty space. The words 'Ashton Fucking Greymoore' are in the upper left corner behind the figures. The second drawing is two drawings of Ashton around a box, the first figure is laying down with his legs up in the air, one straight and one bent, his head is facing to the camera and he flips off the camera while looking up. The second is of him lounging with his hand propped on a knee. he smiles and has his hand up, gesturing vaguely off screen. The first figure is red tinted and the second is blue tinted. The backgrounds for both drawings are light blue and have a square marked out in the middle. In both drawings, the hole in Ashton's head has no rendering so it is the background blue color. Also, there are several new patches on the drawing. such as a Bells Hells logo in blue and gold, a hishari and beacon patch in black and white and generally more chains and saftey pins. In the second drawing, the lyrics 'All of my Best Friends like to go and get fucked up then they talk about all the lives they never got to lead' are partially obscured behind the two Ashtons. END ID]

[alive-gh0st]

mark x (gn or fem) reader …….with the devoted and eternally loyal dynamic of Odysseus and Penelope

the people of tumblr yearn for homophrosyne fics

OMG???? ⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹

whoever you are—you just walked into my inbox, left a myth-soaked gem on my floor, and vanished like a tragic Greek chorus. I’m spiraling. (In a poetic, painfully loyal way.)

This is everything.

Devotion? Eternal longing? The kind of love that doesn’t snap even after wars, gods, decades, and divine meddling???

You’re speaking my language.

First of all—yes. Mark as Odysseus? Makes too much sense. Stubborn, clever, haunted, burdened with power and purpose. And Reader as Penelope? The emotional constant. The tether. The one who never stopped waiting—but also never waited passively.

Homophrosyne.

That soul-deep harmony. That “we suffer separately but survive together” love. Tumblr people have taste ong.

BUT!

One question lingers in the wind like a stray olive leaf—Do we keep this in mythic Greece… or bring it to the present day?

Is Reader weaving love letters instead of tapestries in a lonely city apartment?

Is Mark fighting gods or superpowered war criminals?

Do we want armor and laurel crowns—or hoodies and haunted voicemails?

Let me ask the people.

Also thank you!𖤓

For knowing the word homophrosyne. For caring about emotional loyalty. For making me want to break out my epic the musical tragedy playlist. I owe you.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌With Love, @alive-gh0st

[paradife-loft]

the reason it takes me as long as it does to do my transportation homework, is at least half of the time I spend it doing shit like this instead of the actual write-up....

[thedorfmirrin]

A tiny painting of my princess zafara neopet, Naminea 💛💜

[phanchester]

twitter getting mad about a tumblr post analysing a photo of dan and phil posted by their friend and their solution is… to screenshot the post from a website they barely visit, and put it on the website where both of them have talked about seeing phannie posts they knew they weren’t supposed to see? got it

[masterwildbdsmleather]

[mikaikaika]

An ode to Pangi <3

Pangi doesn't value forgiveness so he doesn't seek it. His battles are written with blood, lost and won with death. Apologies are made with promises of protection and forged with alliances of loyalty so that's love in his eyes .

His love and care for pili 1 ran unbearably deep to the point where he did not want to live in a world where Pili wasn't his best friend.

And then he was forced to do the same. Forced to accept that in his eyes Pili valued being killed by his obsession more than he'd have to keep living for his best friend.

Not just that but also be tormented by someone who has the face and voice and perhaps soul of someone he once loved, now wielding cruelty sharper than an enemies blade.

For years in the null, Pangi had nightmares about Pili 2 and his signs amidst having grief ridden dreams about Pili 1.

Yet he doesn't bring it up. Not in the null because Aimsey is aggressive and Ros is trauma stricken. And not after cause his pain feels too much like a sign of his weakness.

But what do you do when your scariest nightmare holds the face of one of the most beautiful dreams you've ever had

Do you not try to ward it off, protect your friends, shield the ones you love or do you chase after yet another dream, hoping the nightmare fades, even when it has never has, even if it might never will

So Pangi walks. Not in hope, not in fear but because some dreams, even when dead, Still call you home

[saudrag]

jim, when he finally understood spock’s reasoning in menagerie, part 2: spock! you could’ve just told me! (and i would’ve broke the rules for you)

spock, as noble and kind as he is: and make you face the death penalty too? no… one of us is enough

[shou-jpeg]

Oops...

Happy belated Songkran! #songkranfest2024

[gio-scrabbles]

🌑“Dark Side of the Space Colony Ark.”🌖

Happy Sonic X Shadow Generations release day (even though I can’t play until Tuesday)!!!! Here’s something I drew a while ago featuring Maria and Shadow looking cool af! I wanted to try out a new painting style.

[patron-saint-of-lesbeans]

Please pray for a religious order I was discerning entering. They had a review by the Vatican and as a result of the findings they cannot accept postulants for three years and are under a mother superior from outside the order with a very different charism and the authority to nullify their constitution. Pray for the sisters that they may accept and grow from this oversight, and for my own discernment.

[seaofreverie]

One year ago I made this lil comic about being aromantic, based on the lyrics of Eaten By The Monster Of Love! I meant to post it on the anniversary of me making it but I missed the day, oops... so today felt like a fitting alternative :3

Happy Valentine's Day!! Whether you were eaten by the monster of love or not, I hope you have a fun day today!

[alive-gh0st]

IVE STARTED READING YOUR BLOG RECENTLY AND I LOVE YOUR WRITINNNGG have you ever done fics for the variants? specifically shiesty mark hihi

OH MY GOD—thank you so much⭑!! That means the world, seriously. I’ve only recently started posting my fanfics here, so seeing this pop up?? Instant serotonin.

As for the variants… I haven’t written for them yet—but is ”Veil!Mark x Reader” a request or a challenge? Either way, I accept. Give me a few days to channel my inner Shakespeare (but, like, if he had wifi and better taste in men).

He’ll be yours soon. Probably unhinged. Definitely hot. ᯓ★

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

❝Marked❞

Veil!Mark Grayson x Trouble!Reader

HAS FINALLY BEEN PUBLISHED!!!

•. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˚₊‧⟡꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ⟡‧₊˚ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.•

Sorry for the delay—I didn’t realize Tumblr had a word/space limit (tragic, truly), so I had to reformat and re-edit it six separate times just to make the post fit without exploding. If you saw it randomly vanish from your dash… yeah. That was me fighting for my life in the drafts.

BUT IT’S HERE!!!! It’s unhinged. It’s horny. It’s 8.4k+ words of chaos, obsession, tension, unhinged devotion, knife flirting, and emotional damage.

Huge shoutout to @hyunniestharr who requested this—you have excellent taste and probably dangerous dreams. I respect it.

Let me know what you think. I’ll be in the corner, recovering (and probably writing the next unhinged thing).

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌a/n: “Marked” (Veil!Mark Grayson x Trouble!Reader) writing has officially begun. i tried to be normal about this… but then Veil Mark showed up and whispered “you talk too much” and now we’re here. this one’s got tension, chaos, filthy restraint, and the kind of partnership that starts with bickering and ends with a broken bedframe (probably). no promises on how unhinged it’ll get. but it’s him. and reader. and they’re both too far gone. stay tuned.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌With Love, @alive-gh0st