Today's Document
trying on a metaphor
Xuebing Du
tumblr dot com
Cosimo Galluzzi

tannertan36

shark vs the universe
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Origami Around
Jules of Nature

#extradirty
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
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i don't do bad sauce passes

Janaina Medeiros
d e v o n
NASA
styofa doing anything

PR's Tumblrdome
seen from Türkiye

seen from United States

seen from Netherlands
seen from Bolivia
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 United States
seen from United States

seen from Belarus

seen from Germany

seen from United States
@xeuphorically-moonstruck
I miss when tumblr didn’t have ads
\( ᐖ)/ toji can smell when you’re ovulating
Toji Zenin is incomprehensibly powerful due to his Heavenly Restriction, granting him superhuman abilities that reflect in his strength, speed, and even… senses.
Yet it isn't until he goes out on a date with his first girlfriend at the ripe age of 22 that he realizes how exceptional his prowess really is when it comes to surpassing the average human.
His nose twitches. “You get a new perfume or somethin’?” he inquires as you pull him back into your apartment, kicking your shoes off at the entryway impatiently and standing on your tip toes to pepper kisses along the column of his throat, teeth grazing his carotid.
You shrug absentmindedly like you can’t quite hear him through the haze of your lust, fingers curling into the supple feel of his leather jacket and peeling it off of his sturdy shoulders.
As if he can’t get undressed fast enough, or slip his cock into you sooner.
“Nope. Shut up and kiss me,” you headily groan out, voice breathy and body emanating a heat that has him cocking an eyebrow.
Things shifted from then on, Toji picking up on the minute details.
Every couple of months, when he’d be in close quarters with you, you’d start nuzzling against him like a whiny mutt and exude a fucking scent that had him itching his scalp. He’d barely rubbed the remnants of sleep from his eyes and you’d be canting your hips back against his crotch, whimpering in your groggy state at the asscrack of dawn about how he needed to "kiss your cervix."
Whatever that meant.
At first, he chalked it up to you being horned up and ready to go—but coupled with the scent? It had him reeling.