#( shh...makes it...worse )

[extra-joker-mush]

i love how halfway through season five when ed reunites with oswald he just cuts his hair and suddenly goes back to his old look hair gelled suit ironed. like my bad king i see you still got it

[janewaykove]

Kate Mulgrew as Galina "Red" Reznikov in Orange Is The New Black (S4E11, 2016)

Were you not smart enough?

[podcastenthusiast]

Romancing Astarion as Tav: I can fix him.

Romancing Astarion as Durge: He can fix me.

[deadpuppetboi]

Haven’t drawn for the past two days, so I figured a comic should make it up!

[evilbitchartist]

continuing off of the leon game idea a bunch of art/rp blogs of those guys™ (leon, sonia, nessa, raihan, piers, etc. etc.) talking about their gym challenge, taking pictures of themselves winning (or. mostly losing) battles, and just like interacting with each other would also be awesome. and could actually happen

[fan-of-young-royals]

I am so bad at this “you’re losing your voice and have a sore throat so you really shouldn’t be talking” thing😭

[roseguided-arch]

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐎 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋, 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐈𝐓 ? 𝐎𝐇 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌, 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋. for the sex who seem to rule most of their world they had a terrible grasp & control of their own emotions. how to temper their anger so it doesn't always end in blood or someone losing their life. violence is the answer, sometimes, but more & more do humans feed into their craving for it. for revenge, to grasp at a power or to gain it, or some indulge themselves simply because they want to. what kind of violence was this prince regent, then ? surely, time would tell. alys would bare witness to some of it of that much she'd seen in her dreams, in the smell of smoke from the hearth. violence, blood, is all that can persist moving forward.

@greeneir said, " I'VE KILLED BEFORE AND I'LL KILL AGAIN. "

her mounting anger, coursing through her like the blood in her veins, is shown by the rough setting down of a jug on her mixing table. jaw is clenched, eyes glancing away from him & not at all intimidated by his presence. ❛ ye'v got tha' look about you, naebody cannie deny that. ❜ comes her response, ❛ but, all of ya do, don't ya ? princes, targaryens, men. it's born into yer dna & then they hand ya a-sword t'let you get a-taste fer it. ❜ dark eyes glance up, feet carrying her toward him until they stand just apart. alys tips her chin up, green eye looking intently into his one. ❛ it's us, t'common folk, t'women, t'children who pay the heftier price fer your lack of control. royals so happy t'start wars wi'out considerin' others. ❜

[natsmagi]

hold on, tsumugi has something on her mouth. here, i'll get it off for her! wait, no- it appears that both of my hands are occupied. how about i use my lips instead

OBSESSED with the visual of someone having something on their lips only for the other person to go "here, let me get that for you" and they just start making out sloppy style

[w1heda]

.

[articskele]

If I had an nickel for everytime I had a platonic f/o that got reverse-isekai'd and looked at me like "I could fix her" I would have at LEAST three nickels

[nanamisgirly]

taking a shower is impossible ྀི

“suguru…”

you're bare, pressed against your very much naked husband under hot water, and all you want is to scrub your scalp peacefully. not to be pinned against his chest, which—yes, feels divine—but is not helping your situation.

“you always do this,” you sigh, smiling despite yourself.

“well, it's important isn't it? bonding with your wife, not letting the flame die between us.” he leans down, nose brushing yours.

“suguru, we just had sex this morning. i just wanna wash my hair, you're making this impossible…” his hands move up your sides, then down again, sliding over the curve of your hips. he just never stops. “you know i can't wash properly when you're stuck to me like this,” you mumble, trying and failing to tilt back.

water rushes over your shoulders, geto doesn't bother budge an inch—he only reaches behind you to grab his shampoo, “then let me do it.” he says not letting you protest as he squeezes the bottle, letting the luxury spill into his palm. “y'know mine's better anyway.”

“i don't wanna smell like cologne,” you mumble under your breath, your nose scrunching. it wasn't unusual for your husband to shampoo your hair—or to sneak his fancy products into your routine—but it was always funnier when he didn't know. not like he cared, he loooves when you smell like him. plus, the man had long, thick, silky black hair—any woman would sell her soul for strands like his—so it was only fair, right?

he clicks his tongue, “it's sandalwood and vanilla." he insists, “it's classy. it's sensual. it's the reason old ladies flirt with me at the farmer's market.”

you roll your eyes. “because your hair's shiny and look like a myth.”

“and i fuck like one.” he winks, all smugness and sin.

“suguru.” you try to scold, pinching his nipple barbells. he lets out a dramatic squeal that turn into a laugh. his smile falters just slightly as his soapy fingers start to scrub your scalp. 

and it was all cute and tease until you feel it—his cock twitches, pinned between your matching belly piercings. (a stupid VERY IMPORTANT detail you both got on a trip years ago—his dark stud with your initial and yours, a delicate charm that curves to match his.)

“every time,” you whisper “you say it’s about hair, and every time, you get hard five seconds in.”

“correction,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. “i’m hard before we step in. this just… makes it worse.”

his hands drift—long fingers sliding down the back of your neck, down your spine, until he’s grabbing a handful of your ass with a soaked slap. you squeak. “sugu—!”

“shh,” he hums, leaning down to kiss the corner of your mouth, slow and wet and open. “just let me love you a little. you feel so good like this. so warm, so soft—” he presses his forehead to yours, breath hitching. “…i can’t stop touching you.”

his lips drag to your jaw, nipping gently. he lathers up again, and this time, his hands come to your chest—slippery palms gliding over your breasts like he’s trying to memorize them through touch alone.

“i’m being helpful,” he says too innocently, voice low, soaked in need. “just a loving husband washing his pretty wife.”

“totally normal,” you manage, barely able to breathe.

“perfectly respectful,” he hums, thumbing over your nipples until they pebble, then dipping down to mouth at one—open kisses on wet skin.

“this is—ngh—this is not how showers work.”

“this is exactly how ours work.”

[altruistic-meme]

im so sad cus my anxiety is Bad rn and being worsened by my trainee (not really her fault but nonetheless) but i don't have my anxiety meds and even if i DID i wouldn't be able to take them. so instead i am stuck being Anxious and Annoyed while trying to be Nice and a good Trainer.

[jadeempire]

it's a good thing Touko has a canon LI in my girlfriend's OC bc I think the only person who can walk the fine line of "not encouraging her worst behaviour" and "acknowledging that she looks hot covered in blood" is Mae

[eraserbread]

please tell me you've seen the trend where divorced parents call each other to say goodnight 😩😩 teenage rin and ex-husband nanami INEEDTHAT

meet your ex-husband, nanami—the yearning final boss ✧

→ ex-husband!au, angst if you squint, fluff, sfw

"this is so stupid." you mutter, forehead in your open palm as you slide your phone open. lying on your bed, rin is propped up right next to you, familiar face hidden by her recording phone. she's giggling like a menace, promising that she wouldn't leave until you satiated her teenage antics.

it's been well over ten years since your divorce. co-parenting with kento is easy, but everything else is impossible. every time you two talk, rin's name is the centerpiece.

"shh, just do it." she whispers, sitting up on her knees as you navigate to his contact.

'hello?'

"hey, what's up?" you start, sheets pulling around you as you shift position. being like this in your huge, lonely bed with your seventeen-year-old daughter next to you wasn't unfamiliar—these stupid internet trends is the stranger, here. but you couldn't say no... it's just something about those hazel eyes that draw weakness.

his contact name hovers—his voice is deep. 'oh, uh- just getting home from dinner with a colleague. had a few drinks... i was actually going to call yo-

"oh, that's nice. what colleague?"

kento pauses, suspicious of your sudden friendliness. now, when you two are face-to-face, you hardly speak a sentence. everything is about your daughter; she is the center of your lives. he doesn't even know what to say, but he knows he wants to keep you like this for even a second longer.

'ino. i don't believe you two have met.'

"mm, no. you talked about him quite a bit, though." it's shameful just how well you're leaning into this prank—offering him your soft, sleepy voice like he deserved it after everything he put you through. "it's nice to hear you two are still working together."

'it's hard to come by competent, respectful people in this field... whenever I do, I tend to keep them handy.'

behind her phone, rin grows impatient—immune to the obvious flirtatious banter. silently, she calls for you, "come on."

"well... rin and i are back in from shopping around. we got some dinner too."

'that's so lovely to hear...' there's something there... clear as day. some type of yearning, rin isn't mature enough to pinpoint, but it sends a hot rush through your body. 'tell rin that I miss her dearly. i am happy she's having a good time with you.'

"well, i just wanted to call and say goodnight."

he falters—rin laughs again, almost blowing the whole thing. it makes it worse when you send her a sharp glare.

'o-oh? well, goodnight...'

"goodnight, ken."

ken? you haven't called him that in years. neither of you hang up—not yet.

until you remember you're being recorded. something snaps you out of the vicious daze his mature voice drove you into. "goodnight." you repeat once more, just for good measure. the line crackles like he's shifting in bed.

you glance up at your daughter, trying to play off the emotion with a smile on your face.

'goodnight, my dear.'

[i-love-ptv]

Stacy’s Mom Has Got It Goin’ On ˚̣̣ ᵕ̣̣̣̣̣̣

Pairing: Husband!Rafe Cameron x Soccer-mom!Wife!Reader

It’s not easy being a soccer-mom, especially when dads hit on you at every game as if you’re not married to Rafe.

Wc: 1,596

Fluff, Protective Rafe making an appearance, kinda pushy guy (idk what to say)

An: I’ve really wanted to write a fic based on this song, and this idea randomly popped into my head so! Am I using the names I wanna name my kids? Yes, yes I am.

Not proofread tbh

Feedback always appreciated lovelies!! xx

“I’ll be back, ‘mkay doll?”

You hum in acknowledgement, eyes peering back at the field after looking up.

Your husband, Rafe, leant down and places a firm kiss on your forehead.

“Yeahhh, Daddy’s gonna be back, baby.” Rafe coos at your two year old, who was sitting on your lap, babbling freely while peering at him with her big doe eyes.

Rafe walks off the bleachers in search of the concession stand to buy food for the three of you.

You brush your hand over your young daughter’s head, making sure her somewhat oversized hat is still covering her head entirely. Her hand wraps around your index finger.

It was oddly humid today, if you continued moving, you’d break a slight sweat. You can't even imagine what your daughter—Stacy must be feeling, running around on the large grassy field under the beaming bright sun.

You were proud of your baby girl though, nonetheless. And so was Rafe, of course.

You shout loudly when you notice the game is about to start, bellowing out a “Go Stacy!”

Stacy’s eyes easily found yours, for you and Rafe would always sit in the same spot on the bleachers.

Her eyes were slightly wide due to your shout, despite you and Rafe always cheering for her during her games.

She’s motioning for you to ‘shh’, putting her fingers to her lips before getting into her position.

“Which one’s yours?” You hear to the left of you, the unknown voice makes you tear your eyes away from the field.

You smile shortly at the unfamiliar man next to you, “Number 22.”

You can’t help but notice how he’s rather scruffy looking, an odd contrast to your upkept husband with his neatly buzzed hair.

“Mine’s number 13.” He says, flashing his teeth at you.

You gasp and shoot up a little, making you look down at your daughter on your lap. “Valerie’s yours? Oh she’s just the sweetest!”

The man chuckles, looking deeply in your eyes. This makes your eyebrows raise, slightly in confusion, but mostly in discomfort.

He hadn’t done anything out of the norm, you’d randomly talk to the other moms around too, but something about him made you uncomfortable.

“My name's Brandon, and yours?”

You introduce yourself briefly, before turning back towards the game.

His eyes dart to your left hand, looking for a ring, for any indication that you belong to someone else. He smiles sharply when he finds your fingers bare. This goes unnoticed by you.

Little does he know, you do have your ring on, just around your neck.

Your biggest fear was your youngest accidentally pulling off your ring, resulting in you losing it. Or, even worse: it pokes her eye or something of that nature.

You suppose you could be considered a ‘Helicopter-mom’ at times, simply going to the extremes to make sure your kids are happy and healthy at every point in time.

Rafe is the exact same way, maybe even a little worse. But you knew he was just protective, he loves this life that he has with you, since he had no idea the two of you would’ve been together for so long.

You had started dating Rafe when you were 18 and he was 19. It was good for the first few months, disregarding the few arguments that you had. But then, you had caught Rafe doing cocaine.

You don’t think you’ll ever be able to shake the look on his face from your memory.

You weren’t supposed to be at the party, you said you were busy filling out college applications.

So when he was mid-line, and he saw you standing there all dolled up, watching him with glossy eyes, he felt his heart shatter into pieces.

You weren’t supposed to find out, he wanted to keep this away from you, to keep you close to him.

He promised that he would try and stay sober for you, but eventually he’d give in every time the opportunity was in front of him. This resulted in several arguments, and surprisingly, a break up.

But things are different now. You both are in your 30’s, you got married, and of course, had two beautiful babies together.

Rafe knew he’d be crazy to fuck things up now, when he has the perfect life right in front of him.

Speaking of which; you’re really starting to wonder what the hell is taking him so long just to get some goddamn hotdogs and drinks.

You’re bouncing your knee anxiously, which makes your daughter giggle. You wish she wasn’t finding this amusing, but you know she can’t help it.

“Well who’s this cute girl, huh?” The man coos, tickling your daughter’s side.

“Her name is Noelle.” You huff, your mood quickly shifting due to this stranger touching your daughter.

He lets out another chuckle, you wish you never had to hear it again. “Sounds like you’re quoting Teenage Dirtbag to me.”

You give him a pointed look, you’re really getting sick of his pestering. “That’s where I got it from.”

Abruptly, the crowd starts cheering madly. You look around and see Stacy's team celebrating briefly; they had just scored a goal.

You cheer and clap, grabbing Noelle’s chubby hands and making her raise her arms wildly while giggling with her.

“Y’know, I’ve been thinking. Maybe we could-” Before Brandon could finish his sentence, none other than Rafe Cameron comes stomping up the bleachers, huffing and puffing angrily.

He sits down and sighs, “God, I’m sorry babe. The line was so long! I swear I’m going grey right now.”

“And I missed the goddamn play!” Rafe exclaims. He looks over at you and immediately goes quiet once he sees those wide baby eyes that look at him curiously.

“Da?” Noelle mutters, reaching her tiny hands towards Rafe’s larger ones.

“Yeah. Da’s here babygirl, do you want your food? Huh sweet girl?”

Rafe hands you your food, setting his food aside so he can put Noelle in his lap. He begins to split half his hotdog in pieces for her.

You glance to the left, you notice Brandon looking like a fish out of water.

Rafe is the CEO of one of, if not the biggest business company around. And Brandon had just borderline harassed his wife, who was holding his child.

Brandon sneers at the two of you in silence while the game continues, nearly boiling at the fact that he couldn’t have you.

Your head is laying on Rafe’s shoulders, you’re rubbing circles on Noelle’s shoulder as she settles down.

“Everything alright babe?” Rafe asks, trying to peer down at your face.

You untuck your necklace with your wedding ring from your shirt, fiddling with it. “Yeah, now that you’re here Ray.”

There’s silence between the two of you for a few seconds.

“…What does that mean?”

You hesitate to answer, but you do regardless, “Nothing! It’s just uh..That guy next to me, was kinda like hassling me I guess.”

This makes Rafe straighten his back.

“He do somethin’ to you doll?” Rafe questions in a whisper. You know you have about 30 seconds to try and calm him down before he’s banned from every soccer game left in the season.

“No, okay? I’m fine, it’s cool. I need you to calm down Ray.”

Rafe’s nose is flaring, “What about Ellie? Did he touch her?”

You feel your throat closing up, your heart is damn near pounding out of your chest.

You don’t say anything to Rafe, but that look in your eyes tells him everything he needs to know.

You grab his bicep, trying to keep him grounded. Even though he’s changed, some parts of him haven’t.

Rafe speaks lowly in your ear, but not too much to frighten you in any way. “I’ll take care of it, okay? Don’t worry y’pretty little head about it.”

Rafe presses a firm kiss against your cheek, then presses a softer one to your lips.

After 30 more minutes, and 2 more goals, Stacy’s team wins.

You and Rafe cheer loudly, letting out “That’s our baby girl!”

You meet Stacy at the bottom of the bleachers, holding Noelle in your hand as the littlest claps her hands between Stacy’s face.

You’re too busy congratulating your daughter to notice Rafe pulling Brandon aside while his daughter, Valerie is off talking to her friends.

Rafe puts a firm hand on his shoulder, “Hey man.”

Brandon lets out a nervous laugh, “Hey there, Rafe Cameron, right?”

“Yeah, let’s keep this short. I better not see or hear you talking to my wife again, do you hear me? I don’t give a shit what happened.”

Rafe continues shortly, “And keep your fucking hands to yourself, if I find out you touched my either of my daughters again, I swear to God himself I’ll put you under.”

The two men are holding eye contact, one looks with confidence and borderline rage, while the other looks with fear.

Rafe walks down the bleachers, meeting you and your girls.

“You were amazing out there sweetheart!” Rafe smiles while pulling Stacy into a bear hug.

“Jesus dad, you’re crushing me!” Stacy laughs with a slight wheeze.

Rafe ruffles her hair and puts his arm around your neck.

“All good to go?”

You nod your head, and with that, the four of you begin to walk to Rafe’s parked car.

Rafe realizes that this isn’t the first time you’ve been hit on at a soccer game, or anywhere in fact. And this definitely won’t be the last.

Cause everybody’s in love with Stacy’s mom.

[vanesycho]

• s.coups + fem!reader • cockwarming, soft dom!cheol, teasing, orgasm denial, begging, heavy tension, sub!reader 0,6k

“twitch again and I’ll pull out. you want that?”

but of course—your body betrays you. It’s not an act of defiance, not some bratty pushback. It’s desperation. he’s been inside you for too long—warm, thick, unmoving— pressing so deep it’s like your body doesn’t know how to handle it anymore.

every second he stays buried inside, your mind slips further. the stillness is unbearable, maddening, like being held right at the edge and never allowed to fall.

a soft whimper slipped past your lips, barely a sound, but more than enough for him to hear. his smile curved instantly, slow and amused, spreading across his lips like it had been waiting there the whole time. he didn’t bother hiding it—he never did.

no, he loved this part.

watching you fall apart, squirming with the need for more, while he stayed perfectly still inside you... it thrilled him. every helpless little sound you made reminded you who was in control—and that thrill? that was everything to him.

“please…” your voice cracked, barely more than a breath. “want to move…”

his grip on your hips tightened. firm, grounding, impossible to escape. “shh… don’t even think about it,” he murmured, voice low and steady against your ear. “you said you could take it, didn’t you?”

you buried your face into the crook of his neck, your body trembling with restrained need. his skin was hot against yours, every shallow breath brushing across your collarbone, making your nerves jolt.

the wetness between your thighs was overwhelming—slick, desperate, and far too much for this kind of stillness. his cock sat heavy and thick inside you, pressing right against that devastating spot, and yet… he didn’t move. not even an inch.

the sheer absence of motion made it worse. It turned your desire into a slow, burning ache that bloomed deep in your belly.

you clenched around him helplessly, needing something—anything—but he stayed painfully still, as if dragging out your desperation was just as satisfying as finally giving in.

being filled by him like this, completely motionless, felt like torture. a slow, beautiful kind of suffering—pleasurable, yes, but maddening enough to leave you trembling on the edge of breaking.

hands? resting on your thighs like a king. not moving. just staying there, his thumbs rubbing lazy circles. his voice like velvet with venom.

“I’m not even moving and look at you. breathing like I’m fucking you.”

when you finally pulled back from his shoulder and looked up at him, your eyes were glassy—filled with a raw mix of pain and pleasure.

sweat clung to your neck, small beads trailing down your skin as your lips parted, maybe hoping for a little mercy?

he chuckled—quiet, low, indulgent.

his fingers slid beneath your chin, lifting it gently. his thumb brushed across your lower lip, slow and possessive, like he was testing how much more you could take.

then he leaned back. relaxed, perfectly in control.

“poor baby… already shaking?”

his voice was nothing more than a whisper, rasping from the back of his throat, thick with amusement.

cheol stayed quiet for a moment, just listening—soaking in the soft, pained whimpers falling from your lips like it was the sweetest melody he’d ever heard.

his eyes darkened with amusement, a lazy smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, completely unbothered by your unraveling.

then—barely there—his hips shifted. just a tiny roll forward. barely enough to register… and yet, the fullness inside you moved, and the sudden sensation knocked the air right out of your lungs. your breath caught. your nails dug into his skin.

silence again.

until he leaned down, lips brushing your ear, voice low and unrelenting.

“If you want me to move… beg.”

a pause.

“and if I like how you beg...I’ll let you come.”

If you enjoyed it, I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments and see a reblog! thank you so much for your support!

taglist: @vernorica123