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#send me your abstract

celestemagnoliathewriter · 2 years

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Not HP related, but a mere observation/lament: I'm planning and presenting at an academic conference next month and I'm the ONLY female scholar (other than the keynote speaker) presenting.

WHY IS ACADEMIA SUCH A SAUSAGE FEST?!

(ok, why is MY branch of academia so filled with dudes?)

#academia #academic problems #why are there so many men #there aren't enough women #phd stuff #phd problems #want to present at a conference?#send me your abstract #it's about philosophy #and also ethics #and the contemporary context

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ineffablemossy · 8 months

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Thanks to YouTube music for having lyrics available right there while I play the new Hozier album

And thanks to Hozier for absolutely ripping my heart out and stopping my lungs from working properly

I have some auditory processing thing where I can't understand words in songs for a long time. It takes many listens. The music is always first, so the music has to be good to make me want to make the effort! Reading lyrics makes it so much easier to process and understand. Idk why I'm like this and have spent many years of my life thinking I didn't 'like' or 'get' music like other people. People found my obsessions with lyricless music (including classical) quite odd I think.

So yeah I've already listened to the album 3 times before reading the words. I thought I was ok.

Narrator: She was not ok

Maaaaybe staying up til 1am reading fanfic hasn't helped. Who knows *shrugs*

#hozier #good omens fandom #i cant not draw so many parallels #its painful #im unwell again #digging a hole to lay down in #ineffable husbands #francesca #unknown #eat your young #abstract (psychopomp)#this one is absolutely sending me #probably autistic

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brickwhartley · 1 year

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Dearest Tumblr!

I have returned from my meditative retreat atop the secluded mountain of the Pikaman, to resume my duties as Chief Merch Officer of the @emporium.

But Abstract Reactions will forever be in my heart — I’m even considering getting them tattooed!

Just to refresh your memories, on April 1st, Tumblr provided you with a bunch of Reactions to use on posts! Specifically, the emojis I had most recently used on my phone… I’m SO proud of how much incredible ENGAGEMENT the product received.

Over 100,000 of you spirited react-ers participated — and how many reactions did everyone use, you might wonder? Well, wonder no longer, I’ll tell ya!

🐛 was used over 20 million times.

🧀 was used over 7 million times.

🦀 was used over 3.8 million times.

And tied for fourth, 4️⃣ and 👻 and 🐴 were used over 2 million times each!

The special SUPER reactions of 🦄, Pikaman, 🍪, and even me, Brick myself, were unlocked over 15,000 times!

And at least one clever person figured out that I never thought about checking if someone could send negative reactions, so it turns out someone sent in over 120 million negative 🧀 reactions! So many cheesed posts got un-cheesed with that anti-cheese — and you know what, I’m not even mad about it!

Here’s to 🐛! Cheers!

Yours clickingly, Brick

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hsllfirescoopsreblogs · 3 days

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✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*

「 ✦ aaron hotchner ✦ 」

╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all aaron hotchner stories i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3

┌──────────────────┐

MASTERLIST ✈️ CRIMINAL MINDS ✈️ 4/25/24

✐ @luveline

✎ sick of maybe

✑You worry your boyfriend is ashamed of you. This is very much not the case. Or, 5 times Hotch hid your relationship (+1 time he didn’t).

✎ a solitary mistake

✑ You're not sure you're ready to come back. Hotch has total faith in you. Or, your transition back into the team after your abduction doesn't go as smoothly as you'd hoped.

✎ spontaneous phenomena

✑ Hotch touches your face much more than a boss should. Or, 5 times you have a nosebleed +1 time Hotch does.

✎ love, an abstract concept

✑ You learn how to be someone’s girlfriend. Or, 5 times Hotch raises your expectations (+1 time you raise his).

✎ if things go bad

✑ when an unknown intruder breaks into your apartment, you call hotch. he races to make it to you in time.

✎ bau!reader

✎ doctor!reader

✎ pregnant!reader

✐ @dudeitiskarev

✎ my one and only

✑ It’s Derek and Savannah’s wedding, and to Hotch, you’re the prettiest person in the room.

✎ i want to hold your hand

✑ Hotch sends you home and you almost die, which only makes him realize how much he truly loves you.

✎ jealously

✐ @kimstills

✎ some reassurance

✑ in which you try to provide aaron with some reassurance after he asks for his worst qualities.

✐ @ssahotchnerr

✎ something good

✎ rom coms

✎ according to plan

✎ makeshift

✎ something exhilarating

✎ like dad does

✎ public displays of affection

✎ stay with me

✎ not so friendly competition

✐ @greg-montgomery

✎ request

✐ @headkiss

✎ something more

✑ you and aaron are friends with feelings more obvious than you think. or: 5 times the team suspects you and hotch are dating +1 time they know it.

✎ steady hand

✑ hotch catches you at the worst times, but you’re not mad about it. or: 4 times you need hotch’s help +1 time he needs yours.

✐ @honeypiehotchner

✎ gold star

✑ You’re Jack’s teacher and Aaron is basically your nemesis. Until he’s not.

✐ @chvoswxtch

✎ baby

✐ @hotchfiles

✎ half asleep takin’ chances

✑ there was no way around it, he needed an actual babysitter. so he finds you. and then he gets home to you adorably sleeping with jack on the couch to spider-man.

✎ no rainfall, no sunshine

✑ if there was a god, he wasn’t merciful, he was bloodthirsty, and he had a vendetta against aaron. he’s cursed, he knows it.

✐ @hotchscvm

✎ three cents

✑ you butt dial your boss during a girls night … the girls night where you told them you’d fuck aaron hotchner for three cents.

✐ @erwinsvow

✎ coffee, black, two sugars

✑ aaron hotchner is a lot of things. in love with you is one that you never saw coming.

✐ @atlabeth

✎ too sweet

✑ a night out makes hotch realize a few too many things.

✐ @ptersparkers

✎ reckless

✑ After two years with the BAU, you get the feeling that Aaron Hotchner isn’t your biggest fan. That’s too bad, because you really like him.

✐ @spacecowboyhotch

✎ in the east and west

✑ hotch and reader realize some things.

✐ @velvetcloxds

✎ bias

hopefully all links work, let me know if not <3

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner request

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voonroo · 3 months

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hiyaa!! i hope you're having a good day! I was wondering if you could do some alastor & teen! reader where they used to be his adopted child when he was alive? they reincarnate or something and find themselves in hell for some odd reason as their human reincarnation? they might not remember him but might find themselves comfortable around Alastor subconsciously?

sorry if this is too abstract/weird and you don't have to do it if you don't want to! :D

I Love You As If My Own

⌐‣ Alastor + TEEN Reader REQ

Want more? Check out the masterlist↩︎

AUTHOR’S NOTE: These platonic Alastor & teen reader requests are gonna send me into an asylum. I AM GOING CRAZY OVER THEM. (in the best way possible)

Alastor & Teen Reader

There was actually no way that you wouldn't have ended up in hell after being adopted by this man in the human world, sorry.

He feels a bit bad seeing that you came into hell shortly after him, knowing he played into that.

But he made a promise with himself to protect you till the very end.

He felt even worse when you didn't quite remember him. You had foggy memories of him at best.

He kept you by his side anyways. Who were you to complain? You had protection in hell by Alastor the Radio Demon. You'd be stupid not to accept the help- and he didn't even ask you for your soul.

He would take you out and let you shop for clothes that suited your style. Which was much like his when you were alive.

Maybe he even introduced you to a couple of his friends down here in hell. (Rosie, Mimzy, hell even Husk and Nifty at least knew your name.)

He’d let you initiate hugs whenever, even when you barely knew him.

Oh, you want to be a guest on his show? “Why I'd be delighted to have you on the air!”

Wanna just sit back and listen? “Go right on ahead my dear! Your company is always welcomed!”

And when the hotel opened up he brought you there as well.

“Dear! There's a neat hotel opening up to rehabilitate sinners- rehabilitate sinners! I tell you.”

By the time the hotel was a thing, you and Alastor had grown close. Possibly even closer than when you were alive.

Only surviving in hell and rising to the top as father and child will get you that level of bond.

You bet your ass you're practically as strong as him (if not more) with all the time you've spent by his side down in hell.

The first time you let a “dad” slip for your mouth Alastor turned his head towards you so fast you could have sworn you heard a crack.

Oh how he missed that…

Word Count: 342

Inbox is Open!!

#gender neutral reader #voonroo #gender neutral y/n #no use of y/n #x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel platonic #hazbin hotel x teen reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel alastor x teen reader #hazbin alastor x teen reader #hazbin x teen reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin x reader platonic #hazbin hotel x reader platonic #platonic #bsd x reader blog #platonic x reader

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whyhellosims · 5 months

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Whether you like sleek and stylish, or quirky and cute, these kitty cats have you covered! Meet Persephone's Cats, a coffee table, end table, and sculpture ready to add some sassy cattitude to your sims' homes! These are for you, @mosneakers!

Details and download links below the cut!

All three objects come in 21 swatches, plain AO bake for recolors, patterned cats (Siamese, tuxedo, calico, tiger, abstract) and some base game furniture match colors as well. The sculpture is under decoration sculpture, the two tables are under their respective type of end table and coffee table. You can find any of them by typing WHS in the search bar. The links are to the folders for all three items, so you can get all or whichever one you fancy.

Here we goes! ➡ SFS Link and Google Drive

TOU: No pay sites ever. This item is free always, no conditions, no a*fly links. These are original meshes by me (except for the glass, I just nabbed those off EA items), so if you do recolor, please toss some credit my way and tag me so I can boost you, okay?

If you like my work, please consider a reblog to spread the word? Got requests? Need specific recolors? Find a problem? Please feel free to send me an ask or a DM! I promise I don’t bite and I’m still learning, so I’m happy to help!

Thank you to:

@sssvitlanz, @mmfinds, @alwaysfreecc, @mmoutfitters, @public-ccfinds

Moar WHS CC

#ts4 cc #sims 4 cc #ts4cc #sims4cc #maxis match cc #WHS #whs cc #THE PIANO SHELF IS COMING SOON

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the-s1lly-corner · 6 months

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AAAAA

TDAC X PUPPET!READER

Hear me out

Reader is like puppet from fnaf, their character being very similar to puppet, them having the same voice and powers? Yknow Puppet flies fast as HELL and etc, Reader most of the time stays in the music box, and just gets out when really wanted or needed, for example: when theres an IHA or when someone needs them for something.

TADC x puppet!reader !

ashamed to admit this but i have not touched fnaf outside of security breach, recently at least. the last time i was fully invested in the fnaf lore was when fnaf 4 had just dropped, so im quite literally relying off of your description like its a life line because i know how insane fnaf lore has gotten think imma answer this request then take another short break since my lower back is starting to get sore from sitting all day; gotta go stretch my legs too

CAINE:

you do have your own room, of course, but you tend to usually stay in your music box; of which you came with when you first entered the digital world... which was a little odd, but hey its not the strangest thing that anyone here has seen! i like to think that sometimes caine comes to your box at night and tries to will you out so he can get to know you more. leave it to the ai to fall for the mysterious circus member who rarely leaves their box... i think sometimes he would hum and sing along to the music your box makes

POMNI:

the first time you rush out of your music box it takes her off guard, almost making her fall off her feet when you dash right by her to do... whatever was required of you at that moment in time. if she were being honest, she didnt think you were a real person, she had always assumed that you were an npc; it wasnt unheard of that caine would have npcs stationed about for in house adventures, or to man the carnival..! though i dont think she would interact much with you, considering you rarely interact with the others; what use would it be to pester you?

JAX:

honestly before realizing you literally live and sleep and mostly exist in the music box, he probably puts stuff on top of your box... accidentally trapping you inside it. well, actually trapping wouldnt be accurate because you ended up brute forcing your way out, literally sending everything that was on top of the box flying; scaring just about everyone in the room. imagine trying to find out whos faster; you or jax.. i mean, have you seen how fast jax bolted when they found out koufmo abstracted?

RAGATHA:

always tries to ask you if you want to join in on the in house adventure, she doesnt want you to feel left out or unwelcome; even though most times you willingly back out of the activity. though, she feels relieved and even smiles when you spring out of your box to join in on the action... at least she knows you havent abstracted... brain stimulation is important, you know!

KINGER:

he finds some comfort in the music, slowly but surely as the days pass he moves his pillow fort closer and closer to your box before eventually hes right next to you. sometimes even naps, leaning against it. though he does immediately scamper off when you suddenly lunge out to race towards whoever is calling for you. at least he can count on you to have his back in moments of danger or fear!

ZOOBLE:

usually stays in their own lane, but for one reason or another they need help during an IHA, and their yelps and incoherent speech was enough to catch your attention. be it gloink or otherwise, you obliterate the problem; effectively haunting zooble for the rest of their life by your actions... but hey, it feels... nice, having someone you can rely on

GANGLE:

character who is soft spoken and shy meets character that rarely leaves their box when its not needed or necessary; how could a relationship, romantic or otherwise, be fostered in conditions such as this? oddly enough, the silence between you two brings you together, the music keeping the silence from becoming overwhelming. i like to think that sometimes gangle leaves you little notes, choosing to write rather than verbally speak... best not to ruin that special quiet the two of you have learned to share

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x reader #pomni x reader #jax x reader #ragatha x reader #kinger x reader #zooble x reader #gangle x reader

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natti-ice · 2 months

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Hi lovely!

Could I ask for a Benedict fic where him and reader get pretty messy with the his paints? 💕🥹

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ mdni, nudity, sensual touching, kissing, implied sex (1k words)

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

You had met Benedict at a social event this past season and the two of you got on very well, any time you saw each other in passing you had to stop and make conversation. You felt at ease with him, he was so down to Earth unlike most of the uptight socialites of the city. You were very fond of him in general and it seemed he felt the same about you. Not to mention the fact you were also very attracted to him. He often spoke to you about his art and his passion for finding the beauty in life, he showed you his work book of sketches, all of random things he found beautiful even if most people don't.

Today on a casual stroll in the park, Benedict casually asked you if you would like to be the subject of one of his paintings, you had never thought of modeling before but it intrigued you. You were always curious on how people viewed you and this would show you his perspective of you, so you agreed. He brought you back to his studio and showed you some of paintings he had hanging around by artists that inspired him, then he lead you over to the center of the room where he had a large sheet of white paper spread across the floor. You assumed it was to protect his floors from any paint drippings but you were quite wrong.

"This is our canvas for today, my lady" Benedict smiles

You chuckle and furrow your brows a bit "I'm sorry what? Are you going to draw a life size version of me?"

"No, dear" he laughs softly "I'm going to paint with you. I want to use your body as a brush, if that's okay with you of course" he adds that last part in quickly to reassure you can pull out at any time. There's a sparkle in his eyes as he explains how he wants to cover your nude bodies in paint and roll around making an abstract design. "So, what do you say?" His voice is filled with hope, he desperately wants you to say yes.

You think about his offer for a moment, the thought of being naked with him excites you but also makes you very nervous. You have only known him a short amount of time but you trust him a lot, you nod with a soft smile "okay, I'm in."

"Excellent" he grins and claps his hands together once "you can get undressed while I prepare the paints." he gives you a comforting smile then turns around and walks to the back of his studio where he keeps his paint. You slowly start to undress, you feel the butterflies in your stomach intensifying as you shed each piece of clothing. Finally naked, you fold your clothes neatly and set them on a small sofa nearby. The window of the studio is cracked out letting in a soft breeze, you feel goosebumps grow on your bare skin and your nipples become erect.

A few moments later, Benedict came back carrying a tray with small cans full of paint "alright here we are-" he stops dead in his tracks when he sees you, his eyes wide in surprise as he takes all of you in "wow... you're absolutely breathtaking" his voice is so soft it's almost a whisper

You chuckle nervously, you feel your whole body start to heat up "um, thank you, sir" you wrap your arms around your body, very aware of how exposed you are. He steps closer to you and sets the tray on a small table, he picks up a can filled with red paint and holds it up to you.

"May I?" He asks for permission, you nod slightly giving him full access to your body. He dips two fingers into the paint and slowly runs them along your collar bone, it slowly starts to drip down your front as your body temperature melts the paint. He works his way down your body, streaking the red all over you, his fingertips ever so slightly graze your nipples sending a shiver down your spine. "Beautiful" he whispers softly before setting the paint canister down and began to strip his clothes off.

You watched him closely as each article of clothing flew from his body leaving him bare in front of you. He gripped your arm softly and turned you around, he slowly poured some of the paint down your back letting it cascade down your back. He presses himself against your back slightly, you can feel his breath tickling your neck as he began to place soft hot kisses along the side. He used one hand to rub the red all over your back, a gasp caught in your throat as his larges hands rubbed soft circles on your ass.

When he finished he turned you around to face him, he picked up a can of blue paint and handed it to you "now you do me" his voice soft but laced with something more sensual. You take the can and start to smear blue all over his body, trying desperately to avoid his intimate areas as best as possible even if it was staring right at you. Once he was blue from the neck down he gently took your hand and brought you down to the paper on the floor. "Lay back, darling," he instructed playfully "we're gonna roll around a bit" he chuckles before rolling on top of you, his arms wrapped around your body as he goes in for a kiss.

Things escalated quickly from there, paint began to adorn the paper as you two made love. Shades of blue and red mixed together leaving streaks of purple behind, hand prints of different colors could be seen throughout the paper. Moans filled the studio, there was also the occasional sound of paper ripping when things became too intense. When it was all said and done, Benedict framed the work and even put it up in a gallery. People always asked how he created such an abstract piece of art, he came up with a story of how he just started throwing paint at the canvas. Only you and him ever knew the truth.

Tags: @booknerdlife

Join a tag list!

#natti’s 18+#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton smut #bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

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wqnwoos · 8 months

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“it looks like something you’d find in a museum,” jeonghan says, tilting his head to the side thoughtfully. “it’s abstract.”

“hannie, it’s meant to be a fucking chair.”

you let out a long groan, and fall backwards onto the floor, throwing the ikea manual into the air. “why can’t they just put words with the pictures? captions? something useful?”

jeonghan only laughs, brushing a hand over your forehead. the both of you are sat on the floor, in front of a confusing amalgamation of wood and screws and scattered cardboard boxes. “i think we’re doing great. we did the bookshelf today!”

“that bookshelf is like a smaller version of the leaning tower of pisa,” you deadpan, sending a dirty look to the offending object, that is, indeed, teetering dangerously in the corner of the room. “we’re awful at this — and you!” you accuse, so suddenly that he actually jumps. “i thought you’d at least be good at this!”

“me? why?”

“i don’t know! you like lego!” you wave a hand dismissively. “how different are they really?”

“is that a serious question?”

“no.” this time, you flop sideways, into his lap with another, longer sigh. “i’m tired.”

“i can tell,” jeonghan says and softens, patting your head gently. “it’s 2 in the morning, angel. we can sleep and then try again, hm?”

“don’t wanna move.” your voice comes out muffled, pillowing your head on his thigh and squinting up at him.

“i can leave you here,” he suggests, grinning slyly when you whine in protest. “i’m kidding! i’m joking. let’s go.”

and he pulls you by the hand to the bathroom, helps you wash your face, hums you to sleep when you ask him to — and when the bookshelf finally does fall, at 4:37 in the morning, jolting jeonghan out of his sleep, you barely even stir. only cuddle closer to the warmth of his arm, so peaceful he can’t even be annoyed at you.

he doesn’t mind, he realises, that the bookshelf has fallen over or the chairs look like abstract sculptures. because all of it belongs to him and to you — together. recently things have changed from mine to ours, and it makes everything, even the collapsing furniture, so much sweeter.

an / ok so i’ve already published this one once and it got like 3 notes before i impulsively deleted it so if it’s familiar. that’s why. also this is a queued post!

taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @glowunderthemoon @wondering-out-loud @graybaeismytae @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin @icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars @immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya

#jeonghan fluff #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen fic #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan comfort #jeonghan fic #jeonghan fanfic #jeonghan x y/n #jeonghan scenarios

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fairuzfan · 4 months

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The Jewish people are also indigenous to that land. The word Jew came from “the kingdom of Judah.”

Both groups have indigenous claim to the land. Connection to land does not expire over time.

Israel’s current government and leader should not be in power but that shouldn’t erase anyone’s claim to the history of the land.

Ok but you really don't understand what western colonialism (especially settler colonialism) to send me this. It's not *just* about connection to the land. It's about your relationship with colonialism and where you lie within the hierarchy of colonialism. Indigeniety is not some abstract concept in the way of emotional or religious connection solely. Colonialism relies on specific standards of suppression and control which Israel fulfills. I never said anywhere on here that Jewish people don't have a connection to Palestine. I'm saying the settler colonial project of Israel has no right to exist and settlers do not have a right to a land they live on as a result of violent dispossession.

This message equates judiasm and Jewish people with the idea of Israel which is an inherently violent thing to do. It's too narrow minded to say "well these people have a right to this land also" without addressing how Israel came to be and how it maintains its current power. You cannot erase the context of British and usamerican imperialism especially when discussing Israel and you must examine it through that lens to make any meaningful analysis of the plight of Palestinians.

Land is political. It represents many things such as culture, farming, economics, so on. All of these things are taken and used by the state of Israel and western colonialism as a whole to further its goal of complete subjugation. There is no just or moral or even sustainable way to maintain the state of Israel without completely erasing (or attempting to) the population in which it wishes to disposses. It just doesn't make sense to attribute it to governmental factors alone when the very essense of colonization is that it is the complete takeover of a land AND its people.

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kaiasky · 11 months

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Complete-ish Guide To Settings You Might Want to Change

These instructions will be for desktop, because the settings are easier to find there. You can do the same on mobile, but it might be in different places.

Dash settings

Your dashboard is broken down into several feeds, including "Following" and "For You".

"Following" is primarily the posts of people you follow, "For You" is algorithmic.

If you just joined, "For You" is default, if you're a longtime user it's "Following". You can change this in the settings on the right

A lot of longtime users will tell you that the Following feed is where we spend most of our time. But try out all the feeds, and see what you like most.

The settings that are settings:

To start, click the settings gear under the account icon (the abstract person head).

This should take you to the General tab. Key settings:

Community Labels: By default anything NSFW is silently hidden. You can change how each subtype is handled.

Hide Additional Mature Content: If you have an iPhone disable this or it'll hide every post from you on the off-chance it contains porn.

If you're under 18 as determined by the birthdate you entered on signup, you can't change these. (If you want them on, you'll have to make a new account and lie)

Under the "Dashboard" tab, you can enable timestamps, which is mostly just nice information to have. sometimes a post is from 2010 and you can be like wow.

The next four probably have the biggest impact on your tumblr experience, so I'm gonna do a breakdown.

Best Stuff First reorders your "Following" to have popular posts at the top. Disabling it makes your feed chronological. I like it off, but up to you.

Include Stuff In Your Orbit and Based On Your Likes put various content from "For You" into "Following". Personally, I disable them to keep "Following" purely posts by people I follow, and then switch between feeds to get what I want.

Followed Tag Posts will put content from the "Your Tags" feed into your "Following" feed. Since you can go to the separate tags feed, I usually turn this off (it tends to show me a lot of duplicate posts), but up to you.

Under the "Notifications" tab you can tell Tumblr to stop sending you emails.

I'd recommend disabling all the emails--if you get a bunch of replies, Tumblr will happily send you dozens of emails, and you don't need that.

Notifications is the push-notifications in-app/in-website. The mobile app, for some reason, has a much better interface for controlling these, including the option to only get activity-notifications for mutuals. You can leave these on, or turn them off if you find the flood of notifications is distracting.

Tumblr News is a newsletter, it usually just has content from @fandom and the other staff-run recap blogs.

Conversational notifications sends you more emails.

Under the "Tumblr Labs" tab you can enable a bunch of cool beta tests.

I particularly suggest Reblog Graphs, What you Missed tab, & Popular Reblogs tab, but they're all fun to try out. A lot of these are honestly better than the For You dashboard.

For each blog you have, you can customize it's Blog Settings. Beyond things like setting an avatar or description, there's a few settings that are fun.

Custom Theme gives you your own subdomain at [blogurl].tumblr.com.

This makes your blog easier to search, and a lot of 3rd party tools depend on you enabling it. It also makes it easier to link your posts to people who don't have tumblr accounts.

You can completely customize the CSS/HTML/Javascript. you can go legitimately crazy. It's not a requirement, but if you want unlimited flexibility, go wild.

On the contrary, if you wanna run a more private blog, you can disable this and then hide your blog from search results/non-registered users.

Likes and Following are public by default. I like to turn these off so I don't have to worry about like, "what will people think if they see i'm following [...] or liking [...]". But it's also fair to keep them public if you'd like.

The other Blog Settings are important but pretty self-explanatory I think.

Finally, there's some useful tools I like:

XKit Rewritten - A bunch of scripts (like RES for Reddit). The one I really like is "mutual checker", which shows at a glance which blogs you are in mutuals with. Which is such a good feature it's included in the mobile apps by default i think.

siikr.tumblr.com - Tumblr search is bad, and google's indexing of tumblr blogs is worse. Siikr will find any post you've made on your blog. Because disk space is limited, only use it to search your blog, and if you're tech savvy consider running a local copy from source.

#196 #r/196 #tumblr help

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clownartmonth · 11 months

Text

2023 Prompt List

The 2023 Prompt List is here!

Clown Month is an event held in July, in the same vein as Inktober or Mermay, where you create one piece of art for every day of the month.

The only goal of the event is to inspire art and celebrate clowns, so the prompts are entirely optional - you can skip prompts, combine them, ignore them entirely, only do certain days... just have fun!

This is open to all forms of art! Drawing, writing, makeup, doll-making, ...

If you want me to reblog something you made for/is inspired by the event, you can: 1. tag me in the post 2. use the tag #clown month 2023 or 3. send it as an ask or a submission.

If you do NOT want me to reblog your work, please say so in your post.

If you have any other questions, feel free to send me an ask or a dm!

Also, thank you to @demoniclown and @misumisu2002 for sending in their clownsonas for the illustration, and to anyone else who came by during the streams to say hi or give feedback :°)

Image ID and prompt list under the cut

Image ID: A banner at the top of the image reads "Clown Month", with "@boxbug presents" written above it. A yellow balloon with "2023" floats next to it. 3 clowns hold up panels that list all the prompts. The list is as follows:

Clownsona

Pride

Merry-go-round

Tarot

Dessert

Egg

Mask

Mirror

Bug

Game

Valentine

Dance

Abstract

Demon / Angel

Sea

Night

Creature

Forest

Rain

Comet

Fight

Strawberry

Sci-fi

Ruffles

Halloween

Paint

Vintage

Joy

Melancholy

Guardian

Dream

#if there are any issues with the image id lmk! i'm not used to making them #clown month announcement #clown month 2023 #clown art month #clowncore #clownblr #clown art #clownsona #kidcore #circuscore #art #art challenge #prompt list

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beefcliff · 2 years

Text

a little comic about growing pains

transcript under the cut

send me an ask.

pup stares at the ceiling, laying next to a friend whom they have just slept with. their friend lays contentedly, satisfied with the encounter. pup sits up, and the friend takes notice --"what's got you up, pup? it's 2 late." (it is in fact 2 late) "yeah, i know. i'm just thinkin' again." --"'bout what?" view of hallway, showing a long line of nearly identical doors. we do not know which door our characters are in. "how can you tell the difference between romantic and platonic love?" --"i don't think that's a question with just one answer." the friend is hesitant to give advice. the friend is older and more experienced than pup, and knows that their experiences have led them down a very specific path, one that may not be good for pup. "i want to know what your answer is, silly." pup puts their jacket on, eager to follow this line of conversation. the friend sits up in bed, reluctant, but slowly following pup outside and following the thread of conversation. abstract view of the staircase at the end of the hallway, pointed down towards the exit in which they're headed. --"i can do that. i used to think romantic love is platonic love + lust … but now i sleep with my friends so now there's no difference at all." exterior shot, now. they're sitting on the curb. they each have an unlit cigarette in their mouth. pup has the lighter. "is there room for romance in your life?" pup hands the lighter to the friend. the friend lights their own cigarette using pup's lighter and pup hopes for a brief moment that the friend will light their cigarette, too. --"again, it's just indistinct from sleeping with a good friend to me." the friend passes back the lighter. pup does not light their own cigarette. "gotcha" pup presses their cigarette into the ground as if to put it out before it ever saw a flame.

#beefcliff #a little comic #comic #webcomic #cigarettes #tw cigarettes #tw smoking #smoking tw #this one's kinda about sex #glitchcore #mspaint #ms paint #this feels like a synthesis of all my tenure as beefcliff #all the different methods n shit i employed this last 2 years #wild #anyways #writing #transcript #described

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joannasteez · 2 months

Text

sing, just for me

pairing | roman reigns x black reader warning | explicit content, including descriptions of sex. minors please do not interact. if you count flirting as fluff then sure i guess, theres some of that. supernatural element, so yes, its an AU!!! word count | 5.8k ... quiet nights of quiet stars, quiet chords from my guitar, floating on the silence that surrounds us... lyrics in red (corcovado by stan getz and astrud gilberto)

the strum of a spanish guitar and a sweeping staccato, these quaint bristling eruptions that pulse the room to life with a softened awakening. long aged spirits and slow to sip lips. abstract mosaic tilings glimmering with the paling yellow of lowlights. and through lush rouge lips comes a haunting melody. a song of lovelessness, to stain his spirit with a sorrowed tenderness. easing his bones till he lulls into a deep surrendering. and his fingers prick with warmth, alive with a daring sort of desire to touch and embrace. to console. the gentle silk dressing your skin parting and draping over in reverence of the high slit at your thigh, seemingly for him. to have, to hold, to care for.

but isn't that what every man thinks? that your crooning is for them alone. that when the passion of the melody becomes too great and your fingers begin to roam, nails sharp but feathery and caressing about the air and your own skin, that it is them you're thinking of. and when you shudder, when you hiss, breathy and overcome, isn't it them you imagine? touching and pleasing till that wordless teeming desire is fulfilled? because the allure beyond the burning in their eyes scorches your skin, forcing a craving in your bones. such lustful men, bound by the sin of their own dreams, and the ego that makes them believe all this grace and flare is made pure for them alone. but how can they not think those things? how can he not think these things? when you go on about so sweetly, eyes flitting to theirs, to his. and here he's caught. rapturous and silently pleading that you never look away.

roman knows you, but not in the common way that a man knows a woman. not by name or by touch, or the familiarity that comes with soft spoken passions and loud terrible expressions. he knows your voice and your sultry little songs. and in some small, hidden, back alley lounge just on the pensacola panhandle, he comes nightly to hear you sing. just as the burn of the sun falls behind the horizon, till the early morning hours, where the sky pulls out from darkness into a paled blue.

he sips at his dark liquors, tucked partly in the shadows of ill lit corners, bathing in the light of your songs.

but even in his silence, he shares the depths of his appreciation. flowers to match the rouge of your lips, the petals tender to the touch and blooming prettily. and every other night, they appear, at the foot of your dressing room door, waiting to be swept up in the caress of your fingers. and just before every show, as the audience waits with bated breath for you to take the stage, he sends a shot of liquor your way.

"courtesy of your admirer. for your nerves", the young bartender gives after pouring. the short glass filled with whiskey.

and though your nerves cry from the bitterness of it, you take the taste in stride. feeling the warmth of it in your belly, just as high heels click toward center stage.

stringy flicks of guitar, short clicks of percussion and the gentleness of your vocals smoothen the air once again. an intimate warmth he won't get used to. days, after weeks of a far away admiration and here he is still, drawn in quickly by the mystic of a woman he'd never known.

but you thought of him too. of the whiskey he drank as his eyes lingered, and whether not the bitterness was as terrible in the glass as it was on his tongue. or maybe it didn't linger so heavily there, undone by warmth and the teasing slips it took over his teeth as your palms caressed over your hips. lips parted, singing wispy, slicing faint into the heavy silence of the room. and how could you sing about such a lovelessness, when his hands— fingers locked in with one another, long and heavy— trouble your imaginations as you go on raspy and impassioned. thinking of where they could roam and what they could do.

surely his ego would take to a bursting if he knew.

but it didn't.

the bristling staccato of the drumming brush rustles the air but your voice fades with the spanish guitar to make way for the brassy float of a saxophone.

and there he is, sipping his whiskey, lulled into the atmosphere.

your heels clicking over the floor, a surety laid in your bones. slipping easy onto the leather seating beside him. one leg crossed over the other, the high slit in your dress draping to reveal soft tempting skin. and his eyes take to you there leisurely, not overly greedy, but enough to indulge an obvious show of your own play of desire.

his eyes flit to your lips, the rouge color similar to blood. he wondered often, since his first time here, what they might taste like. the pull of them.

"enjoy the show?"

your voice, this slow slip of honey.

"it was nice", roman says simply. as if that pitch and tone hadn't stained his every roaming thought and daydream.

"for all my hard work i figured i'd get higher marks. with how enthralled you are, nice is just a little to plain for my taste", something like a pout forming your lips, not too deep less you have him believe you actually care.

"you have a beautiful voice".

his own. deep. rich. binding to your bones.

your fingers play with his pour of whiskey. the liquor swirling as your wrist twist the glass. the strength of it hitting your nose. "as beautiful as your taste in liquor, so i guess you hated it".

he grins, clutching the glass to finish his drink. body closer. the brown of his eyes clearer as he comes just under the dim casting down of the yellow lowlight. an arm stretching behind to lay against the top of the leather seat. becoming comfortable. 'thats good', you think. comfortable is good.

"you should know by how often i'm here that i enjoy you very much".

and there is a quiet here, among the soft sing of music. his eyes looking into yours and yours into his. a moment to allow the settling of words, once before a mere silent admiration, now formed whole with letters and persistence to bring about a more complete desire. it is, maybe an invitation. an open palm, waiting for assent, the soft embrace of the other.

"enjoy me more". you stand. reaching out to pull him with you. "no more flowers and hiding in the shadows. dance with me".

his touch is colder than your imaginings but kind all the same. scent warm and autumn inspired despite the swelter of the summer season. a sweet spice that lulls you closer. a soft slow swaying together, intimate in it's own silence. and beneath stylish expensive feeling fabrics, you can sense the strength of him. lips lined soft and kissable, tempting. and his eyes from here, where you press into and sway with his embrace, are familiar. intense and consuming. a thorough take to your own eyes, as if to remember the little things. the shape of your lips, and the brown apples of your cheeks. the coy look up from under fanning lashes. an easy trailing over him, to note and remember in your own way.

"your songs", he starts.

you hum. "what about them?"

"they have a... somberness to them".

he leads your body gently behind a floor to ceiling oak pillar, done up with abstract relief carvings. a corner all to yourselves. you feel his hand maneuver, trailing to a less innocent placement. fingers long as they spread and sweep along the spine, pulling in till you flush softly to him.

you make no struggle to stop him, to pull away. you lean in even.

"i sing what i know".

the intensity of him breaks with a softening. "have you never been in love? has no one ever made you feel love in that way?"

"if they have, i don't remember".

pain corrals in him. spills over into his chest and his words. makes the utterance thereof small and aching. "thats a shame".

"is it?", thinking over what possible shame could come from something never had. "seems burdening to me. i have bills, i have enough things to cry over".

"things? you mean love?"

the way you speak so flimsily about it. is there really nothing of your memory? nothing of before?

"better to have never loved, than to love and have lost".

he smiles. "i don't think that's how the poem goes".

"ooohhhh", you tease. "he's well read".

he spins you. slips his embrace under your arm so that his hand meets the other at your lower back, at that less than innocent placement.

you take the time to breathe him in again, to smoothen your touch over the ways of his arms till they join lazy about his shoulders. nails roaming his nape in such a teasing fashion that it shivers his already cold skin. he's closer here, just enough to share his breaths. to see the freckles in his cheeks.

"he, is roman".

spine throbbing as his thumbs caress. his name slipping over your skin till its beneath and staining. and the spill of the saxophone is melodic. pleasant and soothing as he watches the rouge of your lips part. you tell him your name.

"we're on a first name basis now".

"we are".

the rumblings under the softness of his voice is divine. disrupts your skin till the hairs stand and nerves rush. memory washed with a familiarity you can't place.

his tongue peaks to slip over his lips. "can i ask you to do something for me?"

"what?"

his cheek presses to yours. and you feel the beginnings of a trembling. something ancient and belonging set into your bones.

"sing quietly. just for me".

mirth slips into your lips. the skin of your cheek rubbing against the hairs of his. lips breathy and teasing at his ear. "personal performances are expensive".

"i'm worth my weight in whatever way that pays you".

and even the angels, in all their majesty, can not delight nor arrest him so sweetly. with such a devastating gentleness of spirit. for the heaven in them, could not possibly do well to understand the haunting of this solemn summer song. a wispy falsetto, and the plucking of that spanish guitar once more. a soft sweeping melody into his ear. here, the sing of your voice is the tenderness of roses, having died once and remembering the pain of such a silent wilting, rising in spite from the earth again to bloom beautiful but with a familiar weariness. roman lulls, eerily surrendering, with the ease of a taken sailor by the song of the sea.

his touch is an endearing press into your body. no more of that idleness as they curl. dull and gripping into silk covered skin.

his eyes shine. taken. raptured.

your foreheads touch fondly. your nails still doing well to caress his nape. something like nostalgia corrals in your belly. in the rushing of your blood. his touch new but old.

his breath on your lips. close and sweeping against your face. his nose plays into the soft of yours. this finding of intimacy easy, as if it has existed before.

he hums. hearing the echoing of your singing still.

"so much like a siren".

"they're killers". your nails sharp with a slow sinking into his skin. enough the prick. to have him feel the possibility of pain. "of men specifically".

his own fingers curl inward again. endeared to your warmth. "i guess i'd be susceptible then".

you smile. thumbs running from his neck to the work of his jaw, where the hair is thick and bristling, till you find your self soothing over his freckles. his own touch soothing just the same into the line of your spine. his lips planting into your palm. into your wrist, lingering to feel the pulse of your blood against his mouth.

"you're too warm", kissing your wrist once more. "too welcoming to be so cruel", he says. as if he knows you well enough to know such things.

"and what if that's the act before the inevitable?" you gaze flickering up through your lashes. touch slipping again, along his neck, thumb over the apple of his throat. palms coming down to hold at his arms. feeling the thickness of them beneath his clothes. you smile. "i sink my teeth into you before ripping you apart".

the music is light. eases your bodies into a swaying still. alone together in this little corner of the lounge. of the world.

"you make it sound like a good time".

"depends on what you're into i guess".

"you seem to like to play with your food".

your lips grow closer. the seam of them faint and teasing against his. sharing breaths and the thinning control to not act so suddenly on long built desires.

"a bit of patience makes for a better savoring".

he grins. wide and daring. "i just like to go for what's mine".

"whats yours?", you laugh. so typical. you play an eye roll. "who knew men could be so possessive".

he lips take their own gentle trailing. from near your mouth to the supple skin of your cheeks, steady and light, soft at your jaw till they go about your neck. the tip of his nose pressing into your pulse. fingers deepening into your back, urging an arch into your spine as you cling to him gladly.

your blood thrums harshly. thrilled. he hums, licking his lips, and the slight of his tongue wets your skin. and there he is warm, that much you can feel.

"as possessive as the day is long. you're not wrong about that".

"but it's night time now".

he kisses your pulse. the touch of his mouth sweet. stirring. the mantle in your belly burns.

"that's when the pursuit is sweetest".

he spins you again and you take the time to breathe. to gather the restlessness in your body that longs for him to do something undoubtedly amorous. and that same hope dances in him, plays about his nerves and the set of his eyes.

"where do i know you from?", too troubled by the possibility to ignore it.

"nowhere".

"then why is your face so familiar?"

he grins. "you wouldn't believe how many women have stopped me to tell me the same thing. maybe i just have that face".

'bullshit', you think. the idea laughable. "you're too handsome to be familiar. maybe it's just them easing their way into trying to fuck you. compliments and a sense of familiarity go a long way".

his forehead rests to yours, his throat humming. mulling over your words. guiding your hips through the melody still.

and when he speaks, the lewd make of his words stick to your lips.

"do you want to fuck me, angel?"

your breath hitches. lightly trembling again in his arms. in the tightening bind of his fingers. your blood sweetening in his nose, like the first drips of honey.

"is it not obvious enough? do you have to ask?"

and no he does not make you suffer. does not force the words off your lips, to soothe the width of his ego. it would only sour the warmth in his hands, for a woman such as yourself should not beg. should not reel with an exposing desperation, even amidst the shadows of such ill lit corners. she should be taken as she so coyly wishes, with firm sweeping tongue and the powered grip of an impassioned lover. and roman had no qualms of doing such, of kissing you greedily and forming your body to his. of curling his hands to bruise the silk of your dress, fabric crushing in his fingers till the high slit ran into his palm, leaving your skin bare. whiskey on his tongue, slipping lewd, with much method, to leave you drunk off the wet roaming of it as he buried into your skin else where.

your back roughs into the oak pillar, carvings kneading into you. the brush drum steady, louder, accompanied by the bright trill of a piano.

roman moans into your mouth. light and deep. breathing tensely through his nose. your hands take his, searching over skin to guide him. the heat nestled between your thighs coaxing his tongue to lick into your mouth.

he smiles. your breaths rushed and ragged. a lone finger taking a simple glide till he slips through your slit. and the silk of your heat is something memorable. a soft warmth he's known once before. groaning, mouth open to breathe into you till he's ruffling into your neck.

your hands cling to him and your hips chase him. whimpers singing from your throat.

"you'll have to forgive me, but i need you quiet", he gives. feeding the long tease of his touch pass the tight ring of resistance, till he's seated deeply. steeping his finger till satisfaction bruises his nerves. he wonders, after having you tremble again under him, if he'd ever be satisfied. "charge it to my own possessiveness, but i can't have them hear you. hear how pretty you sound".

he retracts, to join in another finger. a thicker stretching that leaves you to struggle against the breaking of a moan. your face hot and damp. the air thick and his mouth at your pulse urging your blood to rush, as if it knew it was him nestled against it.

"okay?"

he strokes wet, firm feeling and slow. a patient working in that reverences the wild throbbing you take to it. an uncontrolled, mindless pulsing about his fingers.

"need you to answer me when i speak to you".

and his voice grows dark. controlled but undefiled still in the depth it holds to. it sinks into your flesh, commands your lungs to breathe, for words to form. shy and pliant. "okay".

he moans again, licks into your skin, savoring the salted taste of sweat. and his touch feeds into you, roams into a roughness, the staccato of the brush drum blending seamless with the arousal coating his fingers. a sticky, pitchy mess singing lewd from your pussy as you struggle not to curse brightly into the thick air. but he makes it nearly impossible to breathe, to collect even the smallest sense of control. and his pleasure works over your body in familiar ways, remembrance sullying your bones till they surrender from some odd far away sense of knowing. as if all the skin and bones and nerves that make you have found something long lost, teeming with joy at such a faithful reunion.

his lips pull into yours once more. your fingers holding over his face, keeping him there, to suffocate under his tongue. a sweet sweeping in, lapping lazy over yours in his own delirium. you suckle over the whiskey taste, thumbing into his cheeks.

your core tightens. a salacious warning. burdening and hot as his thumb joins in to push against your clit.

your forehead knocks gently into his cheek. nails sinking into his thick neck. unable to speak by his request but so desperately needing to express the weight nailing over your nerves.

the tension, unreleased, builds over. pricks your eyes with a glassiness. you tremble still. "roman please", wispy and small.

his skin delighting with the brush of your breath. desperations of pleasure bleeding into his skin. the ache and the burden of your arousal seeping hot over his fingers. clutching onto the thick of them. needy and mindless.

his eyes meet yours. breaths stuttered and words ill formed as the heat of his staring pierces. flecks of red revealing before their disappearance. your mind too muddled by pleasure to care.

"have at it", he whispers. thumb rolling over your clit as he deepens the ways of his fingers. "it's yours".

your mouth presses into his shoulder, to muffle the cry that comes with that wild bursting heat. the pulsing in your skin and the heaviness in your chest. fighting for air as his mouth sweeps to kiss over your lips. fingers reveling in the messiness of your release. playing through your slit, soothing over your clit till he pinches the pearled nub, wringing out the remains of arousal. your hips rutting to chase the sensation, insatiable and wanting still.

you whisper to him, rushing and grinding your hips still. "i'm renting upstairs. s'not too big, but it's not bad, if you-if you wanted to come up-"

"lead the way".

and not much goes into the song and dance, of feigning interest about egg shell white apartment walls, and the color of your furniture. or how your place is just a greater carrier of the way your skin smells. comfortingly sweet and all consuming. his eyes not minding the antique lamps and neither does he care too much for the stacks of books and large hung up paintings. because he remembers these things quite clearly —your knack for artistry and your mind for words in books— of the woman he knew before you, the one with a different name but, her, your face all the same. the innocence of your forgetfulness twinging where his heart used to be. because how could he be angry, at the things you fail to remember, when now the peace upon you rests so dearly. years of waring with himself about ancient decisions long forgotten, as he spreads his tongue through the swollen slick parting of your folds. enraptured still, after all this time, by how your taste coats his tongue. arresting even the sharpest parts of him.

the lay of your body picturesque along the kitchen island counter. and the marble top is not nearly as cold as his skin, but it shivers you all the same. late night, early morning, summer breeze willowing over you.

the drawling alto of your moaning much different from earlier. something rawer and less refined but angelic all the same. a blend of feathering whimpers and ill controlled swearing, ravishing his ears. coaxing them to burn red as they rest between the heat of your thighs. and when he dips over the swollen nub of your clit, lips kissing messily, his eyes take to the curves of your skin. supple plans of warmth that leave him aching.

your mouth opens lax, devastated by pleasure. fingers twisting against the hard peaks of your nipples. rutting up against his wet mouth for more of his good torture. his tongue invasive and exacting. thick and stroking against the lush opening of your body. and your moving is mindless, driven by blood lacing lust. the ball of your foot hooking into the broad muscles of his naked back as the other aches idle under the weight of his fingers. pushing into him, holding him hostage.

the soft sweat dampened slope of your back arching. fingers curling into the edges of the kitchen island. "you're so damn greedy for it", toughing out of your mouth. words cutting through short breaths.

he moans. dipping his fingers where his tongue had been. eyes casting over the swell of your breast, where your breaths shudder outward. delirium overtaking, slowly, steadily, dulling your eyes and the manner of your nerves. his thumb finding your clit with ease. pressing firm. "can't be a bad thing, not when you're shakin and tightenin up for me like this".

your head rolls straight, to find his eyes dilated. near black even. "you like it".

"no, angel", that delicate term returning to wreck havoc over your skin. "i love it". his lips pursing as he gathers a sticky line of spit, letting it drip to your clit. a man possessed, watching you pulse about his fingers. "real sensitive to my touch". and the kiss he leaves along the mess of your folds is terribly gentle. something like a gift. lips pursing, sweeping with tongue, as if he were taking in your mouth. and there he stayed for sometime, tonguing over the swollen bundle of nerves, nailing into your thighs, and breathing in the essence of your warmth. "y'sound so sweet when i have my tongue on you", going on like a man long starved of touch, passion unsullied by time. and when he parts, mouth and the bristling hair of his beard soaked over, the groaning that draws up from his chest proves to be uninhibited, a bout of impatience slipping in his blood to poison his resolve.

his vision fights for sharpness, for control over more primal urges. "wanna hear you when i make you come".

you smile. overdone with pleasure. "so many request".

"request can be denied". his tongue laps lazily, in a means to savor, and he moans till it shakes into laughter. amusement coursing him as your thighs flex in attempt to close against him. "you have yet to deny me".

and his truths are proven. the spasm seizing your nerves and the drool pooling from your pussy enough to satisfy the surety of his words. the lithe forming together of a speechless pleasure breaking from your throat like feathered little songs. an ensemble of gasping and whimpering brighter than the day sky. and when you fight for air, to reel in the overtaking frenzy, the coarseness there in your throat rumbles beneath your skin, till its a deep resonance slipping into his ears, daring to drip into his blood. an everlasting poison.

a siren indeed.

roman plants kisses into your skin, a slow trailing up towards your navel. face planted into the heat of your belly. the scent of your arousal, a sweetened ambrosia. his chilling hands roaming over the aching in your thighs till their kneading reaches your hips. your numbed fingers run into the roots of his hair, circling over his scalp tenderly.

"c'mere".

you sigh. blissed and pliant. legs and arms shakily wrapping over him till they cling for fear of letting go. your nose tucked into the thick of his neck as he carries you to the soft leather couch.

and he just barely overtakes the quaint little furniture, nestling into its corner to spread his leg out as the other bends to hang over comfortably.

you waste no time. lips molding over his dewy ones, your taste steeping into your tongue as you suckle over his. nimble fingers undoing his pants till his cock is heavy and hard in your palm. his dull nails threatening to bruise your hips as he flushes your pussy over him. breathes undone and stuttering, mindlessly working your still swollen clit over the thick of him. tip pink and aching for something more than the tease of your folds. and a nostalgia takes to his bones, a similarity of passion paining him, memory this boundless flooding. the sinking in of your nails as you kiss his mouth and the heat of your skin, clinging to him for fear of losing him, all too agonizingly familiar. he can feel it beneath his toes, amongst the sensations of bliss, the sand of summer beaches and with the burning at the tips of his ears a bright bursting laughter. far away memory comes to him here, flowing along a breeze.

a fist takes to his stiffness, the other hand holding up your hips. your lips trembling, one against the other. sharing thick intimate breaths. and amongst the late night silence, he stretches you delicately. a leisure, deft upstroke that waits with patience to feel your warmth. a steady handling of your hips as you attempt to settle him in.

your jaw opens lax, gasping as the knocking out of wind leaves your words broken.

"shhhhh", mouth pursing into yours. kissing into your cheek. once and then twice. his hips winding up into you. and the racing of your heart echoes in his ears, forces his tongue into a craving. your blood sweet in his nose still. "take me slowly", palms working your hips to grind into him again. spine throbbing, dazed even as your throat sings with little pleasures, heavy breathed and delirious. "relax into me", a soft command that overtakes the stiffness in your body, coaxing you to settle, molding into the thick mass of him. nearly impossible to tell the beginnings and endings of your bodies. "breathe". and your lungs open, the headiness of him delighting your nose.

and the tenderness here is similar to gentle rain. the light kissing of lips and the working in of pliant fingers, caressing soft blissed skin. your heart beating with vigor against his chest, strong enough that it feels as though one exist within himself, pulsing about and filling him with life.

his sharp teeth pull at your bottom lip, edging there just enough for a shiver and a moan. for the quick thoughtless rutting of your hips, squeezing against his cock, steeping him in a wet heat that left a terrible aching in his balls. he wanted to fuck you madly, suffer you to take him in his fullness till neither word nor thought could ever exist long enough to leave you. he wanted to consume you, enough that you would not forget him again. but this intimate savoring was too rich for him to just abandon on the account of wanting to run your pussy ragged. he could possibly do that another time, if you would have him. if you would cradle his head like you do now, letting his tongue lead over your skin till it prodded and sucked over your nipples. growing greedy, palming your breast to adore the sensitive skin. if you would have him, he would treat you with his urges, charm your body with anything you wanted.

your clit pulses, urges a grinding to knock softly against his hard body. and the insatiable need teeming in your blood is nearly unbelievable. never having felt so wanton and filled with desire.

his lips gentle still and unchallenging as they meet yours again. unhurried but sure. like he'd kissed you a thousand times.

your eyes flutter open. forehead resting against his. and when the earthy brown of his stare burns into you, the familiarity of him burdens your spirit so. a deep, undefiled pressure that flutters your heart.

the grainy sand of a summer beach and bright bursting laughter.

your thumb caresses the freckles at his cheeks. "i know your face". thumbing over his mouth. "your tongue. your hands. your eyes".

he sinks further into the couch, lets his head rest against the arm of it. pulls you into him. "where from?"

his inky hair, long undone in the midst of passion, falling about him. his gentle kissing mouth and his hands. his penchant for whiskey drinking and the unforgettable way he feels, filled to the hilt.

"from dreams".

he hums, indulging the thought. collects your hips with a covetous touch. torturing the dulling ache in your clit to flare with a renewed sense of life, fingers curling in to work your pussy over him, stroking up to meet you with a tenderness that reddens his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

his words a gruff escaping.

"how can you dream about a man you don't know?"

the drool of your heat coats him with its own spirit of endearment. dribbles out till its slicking over the tuft of hair just where you meet him. your teeth taking to your lips, a feverish excitement lacing your pleasure still, beautifully undone, and becoming undone still at the splitting stretch of his dick. you slur even in your delirium, assailing the leather of your couch's arm as you bounce against him. knees bent and thighs aching, but still, he opens you fully, feeds into you like he belongs there.

you stitch words together drunkenly.

"how can you... how can you kiss a woman, fuckk!..kiss her so lovingly, when you've never met her". your teeth clench. touch playing over the dampness of your skin. a taut nipple caught over your thumb, encouraging the pulsing warmth that greedily clings to him. "why would you want to do that?"

and if he had a heartbeat, it would burst with a raging. leave a vicious pounding into the ways of his pulse at the utterance of such a question. if only you knew.

"your dreams are just desires. they'll pass".

"and when they don't?"

you fight. for answers that don't leave a bitterness on your tongue. for his touch to become this great staining. a deep enough stitching beneath flesh and bone.

"they will".

you voice small. near fearful. "i don't believe you".

roman corrals you. faster than the air can refill your lungs from such an abrupt shifting. laying under him, heavy breathed and trembling, your shoulder blades resting over the arm of the couch. his eyes splitting into your skin, roaming, as always, as if to remember for the sake of forgetting, this soft surgical tearing through till you can feel the influence of him. a stuttering in your heart. fear and excitement one and the same. and when his cock ruts, slipping in wet and nearly unforgiving, you gasp into still thick air. his body hard and fluid, hips working deft, tongue running over the ways of his teeth.

his palms form over your thighs, pressing in to curl at the pliant flesh.

his heavy breaths take in the scent of you. sticky arousal and the tempting sweetness of your blood. he groans, fucks into your pussy with a toppling desperation.

his hair falls over him. raven colored and silky. his stitching together of words slurring. pleasure mounting his bones. taken by the dripping clutch you've suffered him to endure. but he's taken freely. gladly even.

"what do you want?".

his eyes glazing over. and you reach to nail your fingers over him. over taut tough muscle. a harsh prickling that feels delicious in his skin.

roman feels alive. like he could do anything. could give you anything.

thrill in your eyes and the heat in your skin, moaning beautiful, and if not for his deadness, it would surely be fatal. your lips now rouge-less, but addictive all the same. he wants to consume you.

"you". nothing more sure could ever be said. "i want you".

he grows faint in his control. words near a whisper.

"you don't know what you're asking for".

a breeze indulges the room. cuts into the thick air.

"please".

your body seizes. bursts hot and wild. and here he growls, dark and unbound from control.

red flecks spot his eyes, his breath oddly warm as he lowers his lips to kiss yours. tongue sweeping in, rough and rolling over.

your body preens, hitching and pulsing still. his nose nestling into where he can feel the beating of blood along your neck.

you sigh. content. arching your body into the weight of him.

a paining tear into your skin. sharp teeth into delicate supple flesh. blood slips over onto already tainted leather and the wide flat licking of his tongue. he moans, drunk, weighted against the abrupt shock of your body. drinking in the fast drip of red as he comes undone.

#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fic #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns smut #very very very slight supernatural elements #joannasteez

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