BLACK/WHITE @quicken-silver - Tumblr Blog

All Aboard!

My name is Silver and I write blankshipping fics. DMs are open, contact me at quickensilver#5333, twitter at quicken_silver, or find what I write at quickensilver on AO3. Search 'silvertag' on my blog for information about me.

Fics under the cut:

#blankshipping #silvertag #silverfic

hornetknight

The thought of Ingo and Emmet going bouldering post-Hisui is very funny to me, imagine going to your local bouldering gym and one of the most famous trainers of your country who randomly went missing for a few years is in there flashing every single boulder, meanwhile his twin brothers struggling on a V1

#submas

letterspokespe

Sometimes I forget I have this app. Here take this Ingo art I’ll never render cuz I’m lazy. My friend told me to draw this based on a picture she sent but I can’t find it anymore,,,

god i am in such a mood wow

lets talk about how much i appreciate this set

#submas

winter-soystice

#blankshipping

nartothelar

some new perspective

#corbeau

vip-komilk

Pssst! Consider this........ Sensory deprivation + teasing (blankshipping)

i know you told me to disregard but I'll always take an excuse to post about some kinky brother fucking. I posted something recently to my bsky along this vein (mob x emmet and implied nbkd btw) (haven't decided if I'll rewrite it for tumblr yet. maybe.) Oh. I do really quickly wanna shout out this piece Suvi did as well, if youre into submas sensory deprivation. Ingo getting even louder because he can't hear himself is frankly galaxy-brained. I keep thinking abt it.

But let me not simply recycle other ideas for you. Let me think of a new angle here.

I do think Emmet likes sensory deprivation. Especially when it's Ingo he's at the mercy of, he trusts him so thoroughly and so unquestioningly that like. He doesn't need to see, or hear, or speak or exert his own autonomy in any way, really. His only job is to feel good, and Ingo knows what makes him feel good just as intimately as (perhaps moreso than) he does. Gags and blindfolds and restraints make it impossible to tell where Ingo is touching him and impossible to move away from it. When he wears gloves, the smooth cool sensation of leather against hot flushed skin is even more disorienting. One moment, Emmet swears there's fingers brushing against his thigh, but then the next they're skimming over his ribs on the other side. He isn't sure whether he ought to focus on the tweak to his nipple or the hot rush of breath on his nape. The contrast of cool leather grazing his ass cheek and an impossibly hot tongue laving his chest has his head spinning, and the lack of vision has him not even knowing if he's upright anymore, pushed and pulled and bent over into whatever form suits Ingo best. And all the while, Ingo won't touch him; not where he really wants it. He tries begging for a bit, but the gag swallows up anything discernable and Ingo ignores him anyway, and he starts to fall silent as his body is overtaken in those shudders of pleasure and as he drifts into subspace. At some point the gag comes off and Emmet just sits there slack-jawed and drooling, eager for whatever Ingo decides he wants to stuff into it (his fingers, his cock, another toy; Emmet isn't picky).

#blankshipping