Suggestive Tw - Blog Posts
I actually don't remember drawing this
The full dnf bedwars s*xting saga
" So I PARTY like a rockstar, look like a pornstar. "
" So I PARTY like a rockstar, look like a pornstar. "
"i could hold a knife up to your throat and you'd beg for me to cut you. a spoon is nothing"
" What happens in the bedroom stays in the bedroom . "
🌶️ SC // @pittmade
weight of the day collapsing on her. days, really, the last twenty-four hours lay over her as a shroud, a haunting in the shape of a double shift. the door closes, and she leans against it, sharp inhale, and the ghost of someone’s last breath is still stuck in her throat. the scent of divinity lingers in the air from his cooking, the sterile horrors fade with the warmth of home. by all accounts, she should eat, she should sleep, she should tuck this grief against the cage of her chest for another time. it's not enough, it's not the kind of sustenance she needs to survive right now. she needs more, she needs real, she needs him. gloria sought out jack like a sinner pines for redemption.
she didn't say anything, didn't have the words. she just reached — hands fisting into his shirt, dragging him down to her. she kissed him like she wanted to tear the breath out of him, like regular oxygen wasn't enough to keep her lungs satiated. fingertips gliding through silver speckled curls, gentle urgency that builds within her, begging for reprieve. between their lips, she breaks with a sundering force and jagged breath.❛ i don't want to think. ❜ forehead falling against his as she clung to him like he was the only reason she could face it all again. ❛ just need you inside me. ❜
🌶️ SC // @weaponid ( bucky )
she wasn't entirely sure what parts of herself were even human anymore. she's nothing but want and wreckage spinning out of control. her mind a cruel reverie, reflections of war plastered across her psyche, gunfire, blood, mistakes she couldn't fix. if bloodletting worked, she'd have knelt in a pool of poison, waiting until every drop was expelled from her veins. instead, she's here with her head tilted back, throat exposed like a doe with carnivorous teeth, presenting the prize of willful subjugation. wild eyes pleading from where she's draped across his sturdy thighs.
❛ take it, take it all from me, please. ❜ control. unspoken and kept in the way she whines like a battered hound of war asking to be put down. gloria hates herself for it, how slick and hungry the prospect of ruination makes her. the desperation louder than the ragged edge of a breath she couldn't catch. enough that her body counters vulnerability by drawing blood from his lips with her teeth. enough that her palm flattens and cracks along his jaw to initiate a surge of pain she craves tenfold. ❛ all of it, bucky. ❜ claws threading through his hair, pulling and soothing over all at once. she ground down onto him, rough and frantic, chasing the sharp-edged friction. chasing the violent shudder that tore up her spine. ❛ please. ❜
🌶️ SC // @weaponid ( frank )
no words, no hesitation. not anymore, not when they'd spent so long trying to rationalize and stay away or convince one another: never again. his mouth crashed against hers, the taste of smoke and sweat and adrenaline still roaring hot beneath his skin. she lets him take. let herself take what wasn't hers. fingers curled around the chain that marked them both as numbers and cannon fodder, yanking him down like it wasn’t fast enough, never fast enough. she could still smell the blood on him, on both of them. could still feel the ghost of the fight buzzing under her skin and gnawing at her nerves. strung so tightly she might shatter if she didn’t have something to ground her, to hurt her, to remind her she was alive.
frank didn't ask and neither did she, that fucked up tether keeping them soulbound in ruin speaks for them. gloria shoved him backward with a snarl caught in her throat, pushing until the back of his knees hit the bed. it wasn't grace, it was instinct as she pried his belt open with the same frantic dexterity it took to pull a tourniquet tight. feral tangle of limbs and need, clawing at flak and cotton, scraping at skin and trying to tear him apart just to feel something through the noise. just to have him destroy her in return. she straddles him, fingers digging into his shoulders, nails biting down hard enough to leave moons in battered flesh. marks that will wither with time, but for now she wants him to wear her like the agony that lives between her ribs when he isn't inside her. ❛ i'm sorry. ❜ teeth tugging at lips, tongue tangled up like she's prying hell through the gates of heaven. ❛ sorry i can't stop needing you. ❜
🌶️ SC // @washsins ( russell shaw )
she didn’t think. she couldn’t think. by the time she had crossed the threshold past his door, gloria’s hands were shaking. not from fear, not from the cold, but from something hungrier, meaner. something she couldn’t scrape out of her chest, no matter how hard she tried. it had been gnawing at her for days, weeks maybe. that hollow, bone-deep need that curled under her skin and made her feel too tight, too human, too breakable. heart hammering against her ribs, adrenaline stabbing at the base of her skull the way it used to before firefights.
only this was worse; this was personal.
gloria doesn't give russell a second to breathe or contemplate the brokenness she carried in. she was already on him, grabbing the collar of his shirt and dragging him down to meet her mouth. it was desperate, waking up the part of her soul that had been warped into something caustic and fractured. her teeth caught on his lip, fingers yanking at the fabric over his chest like she could tear her need out by force if she just clawed hard enough. she needed someone real. someone solid, someone that could pin her down when the world spun out and she couldn’t catch her breath. ❛ please. ❜ gloria heard herself say it like a disembodied entity haunting the room. a hoarse whisper, nearly unrecognizable. she hated the sound of it, the crack in her own voice, but she needed him more than she needed pride right now.
Leon’s grabbing her by the jaw |: @washsins
heat curls under her skin, violence biting the edges, like a spark in the air before a storm breaks. his hand was on her, rough and anticipated, fingers clamping around her jaw and tilting her head up like she was something he owned. that's what it was; an ache to be wanted for more than the war in her veins. consumed in a way that suffocates every haunting at her heels. lip curled before her brain could catch up. a smile, slow and cutting, almost sweet in the right light, and he knew better. but the moon cast a shadow, held a spotlight on her. the stuttering of lifted hips interrupted their rhythm; leon catches her before she can torment any further. ❛ did i even stand a chance? ❜ a ragged exhale, amusement flushed as a glow on her cheeks. hand dancing across his chest wraps around his wrist, honey eyes fixated and still taunting in a silent dare. her head tilts, guiding to her throat and pressing into calluses. ❛ you have the stamina for it, don't you? or is age catching up? ❜
it’s not Sunday and idc cause the world needs to understand that you HAVE to dominate her or she will edge you within an inch of your life and fucking laugh about it and talk shit in your face about it.
[ needy ] sender pulls receiver into their lap, desperate and breathless, kissing them like it’s not enough // @pittmade
she'd uttered his name, light brushing over his form in feathery strokes. her limbs followed, wrapped in 8a8179HIS SCENT, his shirt, any part of him she could press to her skin. all-encompassing as the arm that reaches out to ensnare the willing. gloria lands in his lap with a soft exhale, the worry of her brow and part of her lips silenced by the heat of his embrace. her palms found his shoulders, pressing gently on the knots of tension he carried like every burden of duty without complaint. his mouth on hers is not careful. it’s not patient. it’s frantic. a hunger she is fluent in. one with no earthly comparison or poetic scripture because it was only meant to exist between them. the prettiest stranger she'd thought of in passing over years of carnage and heartache made her own. all the suffering and war beneath her palm, and he was life breathed anew.
her hands are buried in his hair, dragging him closer like she can crawl inside him if she clings hard enough. always close, closer still and begging for more because it's still never enough. gloria can feel the bloom of sweet bruises beneath the imprint of his fingertips. handfuls and mania, trying to decipher where to touch and craving all at once. she understands the same instinct that hums almost violently beneath her flesh. her ribcage, cracked open to a heart and soul that finds purpose with the one who makes it all whole.
there is nothing subtle in how they dance. all fire, all intensity carried through the working of lips and tongue— AND TEETH. a dizziness that crowds every thought, she has no use for anything outside of him. every molecule, every drop of blood in her veins, screamed — ❛ jack. ❜ caught between a shattered breath and the frenzied serpentine roll of her hips. forehead pressed to his, her lips catching his in short bursts of unyielding devotion. entwined soul reaching out by the way she searches his gaze for any turmoil she was prepared to chase from his psyche. ❛ give it all to me, i'm here. let me take it. ❜
jackal is 100% into body worship and whether thats a good or bad thing is up to who shes with-
this is it under the cut and im not okay.
jackal smokes because i saw one (1) fanart of her and i went too feral.
Send me what you think my muse would be like in bed and they’ll respond
i just feel like jackal has a degradation kink. like she’s definitely sadistic. but we can have a little uhhhhh masochism as a treat as well.