mature audiences only~
I go by ven :3
grown
capitalists & radfems begone
will contain darker content jsyk
border by @leilakittya
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Peter Solarz
KIROKAZE
we're not kids anymore.
šŖ¼
taylor price

shark vs the universe

blake kathryn
Jules of Nature

if i look back, i am lost
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

Product Placement
Cosmic Funnies
d e v o n

titsay
One Nice Bug Per Day
seen from China
seen from Morocco

seen from Romania

seen from Germany
seen from Argentina
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands

seen from India
seen from Netherlands
seen from New Zealand
@katacreme
mature audiences only~
I go by ven :3
grown
capitalists & radfems begone
will contain darker content jsyk
border by @leilakittya

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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thinking very much about pawing at crocodile, teasing, vying for his attention after weeks of watching him play pretend with the clueless citizens of alabasta.
and he does.
eventually.
but heās in a moodā which is how you wind up in his office, your back pinned to his front, skirt strewn across your lap, hiding the debaucherous view of your silken walls, plump and swollen with want, soaking through the crotch of his slacks and into the fine leather below as they grip his shaft, dragging him deeper, prying you apart with its girth alone.
hungry eyes look on in twisted rapture as you struggle in his lap, thick knuckles loosely cradling his pen. the stack of papers all but forgotten as he raps the golden clip against the expensive mahogany; a steady, mocking rhythm that serves to unsettle you even more.
deep, mirthful chuckles wear at the rusty hinges of your restraint as you squirm. tip wedged so snuggly against what feels like your very core, the pressure almost unbearable as you try and muffle your cries into his shirt, clutching desperately at his sleeve, wrinkling the fine fabric. the astringent scent of tobacco and lavish cologne swathes your senses like an old blanket, weathered yet familiar. your pitiful pleas for completion falling into the backdrop of his cruelty.
ā¦until kempt nails scrape the delicate underside of your stomach.
immediately, you clenchā any semblance of self-control utterly thrown out the window. your heart rate spiking when an unknown hand casually slips between your legs.
lithe fingers glaringly absent of jewelry wordlessly trace the shape of your puffy folds, bracing their palm against the fur of your mound, carding through the frothy mess now pooling at the base of his cock and you jerk- letting out a strangled sob when those moistened fingertips circle back to your clit-
in Genyaās mind, he lost his will the night his mother turned. after that, itās been nothing but anger and desperation at his helm.
heās just gone though so much and rarely has the energy to do all the normal shit that civilians do; canāt talk to people, people only ātalkā to him behind his back, and the only person he wants to talk to, well . . .
then he bumped into you.
being an attendant of the butterfly manor meant you dealt with the injured on a regular basis. sometimes you loved it, others not so much. the honor in aiding such a valiant cause was often circumvented by the amount of foolish, reckless or outright arrogant men that would wind up in your care.
the day you met was. . not your best.
a mizunoto managed to scare some of the younger attendants with his brash attitude and you didnāt want to upset Shinobu by giving him the telling off he deserved. professionalism was crucial.
luckily, Aoi had enough obstinacy to go around.
and as you went through the halls in search of her, Genya had turned the corner and nearly knocked you to the ground with a shoulder check to the head, thanks to your shorter stature.
his awkward demeanor came across as aloofness, to where you had to walk away before your mouth got the better of you.
not even an hour later, he hobbled into the clinic with a slash on his arm, an almost constipated look washing over his face the minute he saw yours.
the rest was history.
slow days arenāt uncommon on the butterfly estate. for staff, it usually consisted of changing and washing linens, restocking medical supplies or aiding any lingering patients.
though you never quite appreciated it like this.
āyāknow what time it is?ā
the monstrous slayer looks shyly at the floorā the two empty beds, the wall to your right, anywhere but you.
stepping away from the shoji, you ogle his shuddering frame as delicate fingers cup his strong chin to maneuver him closer, pulling him down enough to rest his forehead onto yours.
youāre loud in your scrutiny. hooded gaze watching him pink and scrunch his eyes.
pressing your lips against his scar in a deceitfully gentle manner, he feels the eagerness in your touch, not a trace of disgust or apprehension as you pepper the gnarly tissue.
he canāt help but lean into your kisses as they lazily trail the bridge of his nose, brushing his cupidās bow.
āhmm?ā anticipation makes your words floaty, mere wisps in the air. butterfly kisses litter his cheeks, sending chills down his spine.
he bows his head, sheepish.
āyeah?ā
you tilt your head, tickling his lips with a budding smile, āwhaā time is it?ā
your eyes twinkle as he slowly opens his mouthā only to close it without a word.
he tries to hide his embarrassment in your neck once more, not before you snake your arms around his neck and stuff your hand into his mane for a cautionary yank.
ācāmon, tell me. be sweet.ā
he swallows the knot in his throat, feeling the fabric of his pants rub against his aching cock.
āi-it,ā his brain begins to shut itself off.
fuckā for all the humiliation you put him through, he finds himself wallowing in it everytime.
ā. . ās time to get fucked.ā
lurid glee stains your features, āthaās right,ā your praise drips with condescension. staring into his reclusive violets like they held the sun up, even when he bucks into your plush stomach, you take his cheeks into your hands and carefully knead the broiling skin, whispering, āās time tā get fucked.ā
planting a firm kiss on each one, you step back and retreat to the nearest bed.
he shivers. whether itās the sudden deprivation of heat or the coy look thrown over your shoulder as you hoist yourself onto the fresh sheets, lower half poised in the air; those eclipsing pupils never once wander.
especially when you spread your knees and sink onto your tummy, hips swinging more than is necessary, hiking the skirt of your kimono up over your tailboneā all in one smooth, practiced motion.
or when you reach back to pat your bare ass, brown and beckoning just as your eyes.
ācome fuck your pussy, baby.ā
Tsuyu didnāt have a lot of friends.
Ā Before her time at UA, she could count on one hand the number of people she acknowledged as more than the regular acquaintanceā a grand total of one person.
Ā Habuko.
Ā But when they went their separate ways, she pretty much fell out of contact. And really, she didnāt have much time for friendship anyway, what with her little siblings.
Ā Now she has an entire class.
Ā Itās a welcomed change. Being surrounded by people closer than an armās length, her nights spent not scrolling through elementary level homework or groggily opening her bedroom door for a nightmare-adled child; but giggling at magazines and silly stories from the mouths of her peers, nails wet with polish.
Ā And after an overseas venture during one of her apprenticeships, she has something even better.
Ā A cousin.
Ā Blood relation didnāt matter. You were family regardless.
you needed a new top
ācāmon, it canāt look that bad.ā
āthatās not the-ā you couldnāt see it through the walls of the dressing room but Shinsoās stretching smile was palpable as your voice trailed off.
ā. . holā on, whatās that supposed to mean?ā
the top isnāt even special. soft yet firm fabric that curves off the shoulders and dips into thick bell sleeves, which sit a bit too loose on the wrist; small straps lining the open back, a deep cut that shows far too much back for your liking.
ārarely do you just make a decisionā and you ask for my opinion any other time, so I donāt get why this would be different?ā his voice, velvet undertones and all, sounds soft behind the locked door. āplus, youāre not what Iād call a āfashionistaā.ā
āand you are, mister just-put-a-silver-chain-onā?ā
you refuse to acknowledge the jolt that ran through your body at the sudden thud against the door. though you chortle at the small show of anger.
ājusāā let me in before I make a scene.ā
āyou are the scene, you sun-fried tulip,ā falls off the tongue naturally. āwhy you wanna see it so bad, anyway? it aināt even your style.ā
he doesnāt answer this time.

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secondhand embarrassment, tooth rotting fluff, google translated korean, cultural sacrilege in the form of disrespecting your elders probably
Aizawa ShÅta believes he maintains his boundaries better than most.
Heād learned a long time ago the importance of the self, how āfragileā he was to others and their actions. And if it leaned more into isolationist territory, that was no oneās business but his own.
It was more of a coping mechanism, if nothing else.
Peace hardly comes easy to heroes like himā the ones who didnāt require a crowd to get shit done. Those ready and willing to get their hands dirty, who shiver in disgust at the blood beneath their nails but scrape it out all the same, if only to keep civilians unsullied from the grime of the earth as they guided them across a street.
So whenever it was within reach, a bonfire in a flurry of snow, he sought to cherish it with broad, frostbitten palms.
Even if it happened to be a group of children that seemed hell bent on sending him to an early grave.
āEverything packed?ā
āSensei, Iām a junior now,ā the familiar whine in his protĆ©gĆ©s voice had grown weaker over the semester. This time sounding more chiding than petulant, āthink you can let up on the micromanaging, yeah?ā
Briefly closing his eyes, he ducks his head, amused breaths pushing a few flyaways out of his face. Too quiet for the phone to pick up.
āSure, kid.ā
When you stop calling me Sensei.
iāve mentioned free use!genya on my og pageā¦
thinking of just strolling through the living room and seeing him alone on the couch, on his phone or what have you-
nothing important. just off in his own little world.
the face you make once you decide to disrupt his peace by crawling into his lap.
he doesnāt actually look up until your leg is slung around his waist, his neck damn near snapping.
the way his spine jacks up, looking all sheepish as you take your rightful spot on your āthroneā. growing all warm in the face as you devour his soul with your inscrutable stare, looking down at him, like you couldnāt be bothered to be there. like you couldnāt feel his pulse against your thigh.
like it wasnāt your fault.
the way those little confused noises dwindle down into husky, wimpish breaths as you trail a finger down the band of his sweats. his hips bucking into it sharply, already knowing what was coming.
the way he melts into your hand when you go to cup his cheek, those tense features softening even as you directed him down to your lips; mortification muted by the low hum that thrums through his tongue and straight to his groin when he sticks it out for you to suckle on-
cw: disordered eating, implied child abuse
the smooth stone is freezing against your cheek.
you stare straight ahead. hollow and unblinking. your stomach writhing as an unfamiliar scent wafts through the air.Ā
stern, muscled hands contrast greatly with the dark metal handle, pale and disciplined as the sound of tumbling aromatics nestles its way into the domestic quiet. you eyes jumping involuntary as your fiancĆ© tosses the pan around with brisk flicks of his wrist, allowing the flavor to bloom.Ā
reaching over the granite countertop, nanami grabs the last remaining ingredient; a glass that appears almost minuscule in his hands, his efforts almost seamless as he tipped it over the concoction, pouring what you could only assume to be a reasonable amount. the quiet rumble of bubbling oil prompting you squint at the broad plane of his back, latent power peeking through the tailored cotton.
you huff, prompting him to look upā glancing over at your gloomy demeanor beneath the sharp contour of his brow before his eyes fall back to the stove.
āpouting?āĀ his dulcet voice rolls over like waves on the shore.Ā
steady.
teasing.
āshut up.ā you mumble, the softness in his tone making you bristle.
āprincess treatmentā from kishibe and itās just him kissing you on the mouth
slow, teasing pecks that quickly turn into tongue fucking your throat-
if you wanna see salems art and general opinions hes still on bsky so thats something fuck this transphobic antiBlack site so much

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tanaka š«±š½āš«²š¼ bokuto š¤š¼ nishinoya
holding your tummy during backshots because he likes to feel it give and sway to his thrusts
reposting this so staff will have a harder time trying to make everyone forget it <3
fuck staff so fucking much
bsf!shinsou seeing you in your mumu for the first time
just finished itaewon class
and the utter Lack of saeroyi fics is absolutely criminal.
togame and his catgirl (sheās completely human, she just meows a lot)
when you donāt feel like talking and just crawl into his lap, taking over the space like it was never truly his. your forehead gently bunting the underside of his chin as his arm snakes around your waist, mooring you to him as he lavishes your spine in those lazy, dragging strokes, as if to say took you long enough.
kisses the top of your head and just sits there, taking in your scentā¦

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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togame and his catgirl (sheās completely human, she just meows a lot)
finally finished windbreaker (anime) and now i have to pin down a plot for a togame ficā¦