#I LITERALLY WROTE IT THIS MORNING

[scholastic-dragon]

I posted 255 times in 2022

That's 255 more posts than 2021!

158 posts created (62%)

97 posts reblogged (38%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@turtle-babe83

@thelaundrybitch

@exovapor

@pheradream15

I tagged 236 of my posts in 2022

Only 7% of my posts had no tags

#tmnt - 100 posts

#tmnt bayverse - 71 posts

#tmnt leo - 65 posts

#tmnt donnie - 63 posts

#tmnt raph - 62 posts

#thanks for the ask! - 60 posts

#tmnt mikey - 57 posts

#tmnt headcannons - 51 posts

#guardians of the galaxy vol 2 - 45 posts

#hellboy - 41 posts

Longest Tag: 116 characters

#like you make it all cute with the hat and sharf and you look down and raphs made a freakishly (huge) realistic dick

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

hey!! is it alright if i asked for like a fluffy 'nd angsty kinda songfic with the reader referring or viewing the bay!tmnt with the lyrics, "your beauty never, ever scared me." by Ghost's Mary On A Cross? (bc im pretty sure they all share an insecurity abt their specie and physical appearance yk but reader loves n reassures them ,, thank you!!! <;3)

I absolutely agree, they definitely have a lot of insecurities about how they look.

I'm doing this as a Turtle of Choice thing, so you can imagine your favorite dude <3

This is heavily inspired by @turtle-babe83 post about insecurities but for the S/O not from the boys. (Please click the link her works are so good!)

Turtles x Gn!reader

Beauty

Word Count: 822

Warnings: insecure turtles, them being soft bois, established relationship, first "I love yous", spelling mistakes

Summary: after hearing a lyric from your favorite song, your boyfriend opens up.

Spring cleaning.

Worst time of the year because it comes right after seasonal depression and cabin fever which beat your ass. Every. Single. Year.

But now you had a boyfriend to help with all your chores and keep you...mostly...on track.

He offered a helping hand when needed, willing to do anything and everything you asked. Even if it was just sitting on your bed whole you folded laundry.

He knew you struggled a lot and if he could help you in any way he would.

Now it was late evening, the sun was setting, turning the sky pink, orange, and purple, and small stats were appearing in the sky.

You two were washing the dishes, listening to your favorite Playlist. You would scrub and rise the dishes then hand them to him, he would dry them and then put them away.

It was a perfect system, keeping you focused but making it a little fun. You'd tell him about your day, why this plastic cup was your favorite, or why you loved a certain song.

He found it so endearing listening to you talk about your interests and to do simple mundane things with you.

"Oh, I love this one!" You happily start humming and mouthing the words.

It was cute watching his face try to figure out if he knew the song and try to hear the words. His brows furrowed and he gently swayed to the music.

"It's from tiktok," You lean in, whispering as if it were some great secret.

He nodded, the gears finally clicking in his head.

"I would've gotten it," He mumbled, drying off a glass cup and putting it in the corner cabinet by your side.

"Eventually," You add, nudging his arm playfully. He laughed, taking the plate from your hands.

"Oh, this line reminds me of you," You gently touch his arm. He lowers his arms, still holding the towel and plate, listening to the song coming from your small speaker.

🎶"Your beauty never ever scared me," 🎶

You saw the moment the words registered in his mind. The way his mouth opened slightly, his eyes going slightly wide, the sharp inhale.

"That-that line?" He asked, cautiously. "Reminds you of me?"

You nod, as if it were something simple.

"But....But, I'm, well you know," Setting the plate down he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

See the full post

585 notes - Posted August 19, 2022

#4

Relationship headcanons for all bay!turtles?

So this turned more into a 'how did you and the turtle(s) start dating' type of thing, hope that's okay

Bay!Turtles Relationship Headcannons

Leo:

Say hello to 'slow burn' 👋

This boy pines for you

Long stares, strong eye contact and obvious feelings....but this boy is too nervous to ask you out at first

He memorizes any and all details about you whenever he can

He stares....a lot. He just thinks you're so pretty

He really likes your laugh, he'll do almost anything to hear it, but he doesn't like it as much when he isn't the one to make you laugh

The "first move" He ever made was movie night. Since it was October, Mikey picked a horror movie, much to your dismay and protest. You were shaking the whole time and when the villain went to attack the main character, you jumped and buried your face into his shoulder with a mumbled. "Tell me when it's over," His hand gently rubbed up and down your back as you shook in his arms.

Afterwards you sheepishly thanked him, holding his hand for a little bit too long as you were leaving.

From them on you sat by him every movie night. It's kinda your thing™️

If you spend the night he will offer you his room. And no he won't stay in there with you, he's too much of a gentleman with anxiety to do that.

But he likes it because then his pillows smell like you

He's so nervous to be around you when he realizes he's crushing on you. He just wants to touch you. Not in a sexual way, but touching your shoulder when he walks by, hugging you hello and goodbye, snuggling, anything.

He melts when you yank him down for a goodbye hug after one movie night. You tuck your face into his neck and sigh deeply and he knows he's done for

After being friends for a few months you finally get him to stay in his room with you when you're spending the night.

But he's putting all the blankets on the floor...?

"Leo?" You sit up in his bed, peering down at him. "Are you going to sleep on the floor?"

"Where else would I sleep?" He pulls his blanket over his lap.

"In bed."

"With....with you?" He turned a few shades darker. You nod, scooting over and patting the free side.

You can see how he's shaking as he stands and comes over to the side of the bed. He awkwardly sits down, sweat dripping down his face.

"You don't have to, if you're too uncomfortable," You whisper, reaching out to touch his arm.

"I've just worried I'm going to mess this up," He mumbles back, taking your hand in his and running his thumb along your knuckles.

"You're not messing anything up,"

He let down some of his walls and finally decided to open up to you....literally the next morning.

He was too nervous to sleep under the sheets with you so he's laying on all the blankets watching you peacefully snooze.

After a bit you wake up and exchange some "good mornings" and then he just straight up tells you he's got feelings for you

See the full post

649 notes - Posted October 30, 2022

#3

Tmnt Headcannons part 3

Leo hates the word "moist"

Raph and Donnie unironically like dark chocolate

If offered, the guys will not say no to a glass of chocolate milk

Leo has a sensory thing and cannot handle the sound of bones cracking, it makes him do a full body shiver

He also hates the texture of jello. Not the taste, but the texture, it makes his teeth feel fuzzy

Their whole friend group (you, April, Casey, and Vern) all roast each other playfully, but if Casey or Vern were to make a sexual joke or mean comment to you. Shits about to go down.

One of Leo's toxic traits is watching the Olympics and thinking "I could do that" (we've all done it don't lie)

Donnie uses Leo's tea mugs for his coffee just to annoy him

Whenever they got out for a drive and are listening to music, no one can touch the radio.

"Mikey, don't you touch my fuckimg radio!" Que Donnie frantically hitting his brothers hands

There are at least 3 movies that Donnie and Mikey can fully act out. They quote it often, Raph and Leo don't get the jokes.

Donnie always corrects Raphs spelling in group chat messages

Raph has gotten up from wherever he was to hit Donnie because he corrected him. (He spent an hour in the haishi)

Leo makes really cute faces when he reads

Mikey gets irked when you call him "Michael" but he doesn't have the heart to tell you to stop (its kinda growing on him)

Ok, so everyone knows Raph is the knitter of the family, but if you knew how, you are now instant favorite.

He would be over the moon, head over heels in love with your ass if you knitted something for him.

"You made this?

"Yeah."

"For me?"

He did cry over it (don't tell him I told you)

Every time Mikey makes Mac 'n cheese, he says "that's what good pussy sounds like"

653 notes - Posted March 10, 2022

#2

Bay Turtle Kisses 💋

Thank you for requesting this @akesdraws-blog it was so cute and fun.

Warnings: giving the turtles the smootches they deserve!

Leo:

Hear me out

HEAR ME OUT

Neck kisses

And not just the sexual kind no no.

Leo's a tall dude, even if he's not the tallest, he's still large. And you probably still have to reach up on your tippy toes to hug him. And because of that, the easiest place for you to place kisses was his collarbone and neck.

Knees: gone

It's just such a strange and sensitive place and he loves how intimate it is

He's gotten forehead and cheek kisses from his brothers and April, but your kisses are more personal and he can't get enough of them

He was terrified to kiss your neck for the first time, but he couldn't stop staring and it was eating away at his brain. He needed to know how smooth the skin was, how potent your scent would be.

It was date night at your place, you were watching a movie, wrapped up in a thick blanket, sitting in between his legs.

He had a perfect view of the back of your head and the side of your neck. Even more so when you moved your hair to the side because you thought it was bothering it.

It was but in a different way

He couldn't help himself, he leaned in, taking a moment to appreciate how your perfume, body wash and natural scent mixed before kissing the juncture where your shoulder and neck met.

He pulled away, not wanting to overstep, but stopped when your arm came up, pushing his head back to your neck.

At your small, "more, please," He was sure his heart had stopped

Game on.

Mikey:

Nose kisses

His favorite is when you both make eye contact, doesn't matter where or how far apart you are, and he licks his lips and keeps -purposefully- glancing down at your lips.

So you start to lean in, and he takes your face in your hands, tilting tour head, moving extra slow to build momentum....and then places a sweet kiss to the tip of your nose.

Then he pulls back, going back to whatever he was doing, trying not to laugh at your mad face

You make the cutest face when he does this, you try and make a mad face but your cheeks are red, eyes crinkled from laughed and fighting a smile.

He laughs, and plants kisses all over your face, leaving your lips for last.

One of his favorite pranks is when you're sitting at the dining table for a meal, he makes eye contact, licks his lips, then stands from his chair, leaning across the table with puckered lips.

You lean forward, giggling and mumbling something about how 'he can't even wait five minutes for another kiss'

And then.....he leans down and takes the straw of your drink into his mouth and happily sipps whatever is in the cup.

See the full post

827 notes - Posted November 23, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Being friends with the 2014/2016 TMNT boys

This is my first ever post and I'm a little nervous about it, but I really want to write so here we go.

Let me tell you, these boys are FUNNY

Memes 24/7

You 100% introduced Mikey to Tiktok

It was both the best and worst thing that has ever happened

On the one hand, he now sits quietly watching his phone

But once his phone is down he's screaming tiktok sounds

"We DoN't tAlK aBoUt BrUnO-nO-No"

"The woman was too stunned to speak,"

"Piggy dippin' piggy dippin' in da piggy pond"

It gives Leo a headache

Raph is most annoyed by it at first, but then he gets tiktok and starts doing it too.

You and Mikey spend HOURS showing each other tiktoks

You try to include Donnie

"Donnie...DONNIE"

"WHAT, IM BUSY"

"...I wanna show you a tiktok..."

"...okay, but just one,"

It's never just one

They have movie nights Every. Single. Week.

They like to binge long movie series and sagas

They will not go back and watch pervious movies if you miss one. You will suffer and be lost

Donnie and Leo will share their snacks with you. Raph won't. Mikey will bite your hand if you try.

Donnie does not share blankets.

They will purposefully move your things around the lair and laugh as you spin in circles to try and find it.

It's been 3 weeks since you've seen your favorite water bottle

(It's in the corner kitchen cabnet)

Mikey likes to give you the remote to see what movies you put on

If it's Disney Raph will be all "manly" and be like

See the full post

848 notes - Posted January 16, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[aziraphale-is-a-cat]

DPXDC Watch Out, He Bites

Danny did his best to be the best big brother possible, he helped his little brother learn and train to be the best, even if he knew what it meant. He protected Damian through thick and thin, and as he stared down at the corpse of his grandfather's enforcer in the sand he knew he'd just signed his own death warrant.

Danny had seen it coming for a while, even as the oldest son he'd never been what grandfather had expected of him, too soft and moral. He suspected that was why mother had Damian in the first place, to replace him as heir- and he never held it against his little brother. But stepping in the way of Grandfather's punishment for Damian would not go unnoticed, this would be the last way he would protect his little brother for a very long time.

Daniel turned to Damian, tears coming to his eyes as he wipes the blood and viscera off his hands and out from under his nails. "I can't stay." He saw his little brother's hands ball up as he started to shake. "I'm sorry, if you ever need a place to hide, then come find me."

-

Years later, Damian struggles to find purpose after the death of his father, and rather than be Robin to Dick's Batman he goes on a cross country road trip to find his big brother who would do anything to protect him.

But when Bruce comes back from being stuck in the time stream, Damian introduces him to his eldest son. They get along fine at first, but then some goon tries to kidnap Damian Wayne for the ransom money, and Danny gets there first.

[rodolfoparras]

SO I JUST GOT OUT OF THE FNAF MOVIE

mike is Most definitely a man who whimpers

he buries his head into the pillow, soft sobbing because he hasn't felt this good in so long while you softly stroke his cock and/or finger him while whispering praises into his ear

-🌷

Ok but hear me out…

Brat!mike who loves to rile you up with his mouth and will only ever shut up once you shove your cock down his throat, forcing him to keep you inside his mouth for as long as possible, til his jaw aches, throat burns and there’s a puddle of drool on the floor. Another way to shut him up is to grip his throat while he rides your cock, you’ll watch the stubbornness bled away from his eyes and get replaced with desperation as he furiously taps at your thigh.

Brat!mike who likes it rough, whether it be having little to no prep, blowjobs that will have tears spilling down his cheeks and face turning visibly red or til it feels like he’s being speared onto your dick, will even let you put mascara and lipstick on him just so that he can visibly see how you’ve ruined him

Brat!Mike who’ll prevent any noises from escaping his lips as you’re fucking him. Even with ropes of cum painted all over his stomach and hole all puffy and red he still won’t tell you how good you’re making him feel. You can even have him tied up while holding a vibrator against his dick and he’ll still manage to stay silent as a mouse, which only manages to drive you crazy

Brat! Mike who’ll purposely stop while in the middle of giving you a blow job or while riding you just to tease, only for you to yank at his hair or hips and shove him back down onto your dick

Brat!mike who loves to rile you up just so that you can have heated make up sex, will even go as far as to moan the name of someone else while you got your fingers or cock buried inside him, wont stop with his little act til you’ve fucked him so dumb he can no longer speak or think

Brat!mike who’s alright with being denied orgasms but loses his mind at being denied a kiss, you’ll have him whining and whimpering within seconds to put your lips on his.

[curdledmilkk]

nine of swords for the @founders-tarot-zine

I’m so lucky to have been able to participate in a collaboration with a dear friend and muse (who wrote a beautiful fic to pair with this drawing)! So happy to create something together after all this time, and if you haven’t read her fics yet then I highly suggest checking them out.

[willowser]

bakugou + strawberries ; 2.7k ੈ‧₊˚ for our meet fruit collab ! ‧₊˚✧ ₊˚

mina suggests speed-dating.

first as a joke — you think — after the two of you spend too many weekends in a row watching sappy rom-coms on her couch while crying into a bowl of trail mix, and then a second time, and then a third time, after you refuse.

in her last attempt, she pulls out the big ones: her upcoming birthday. it will be so fun!! she tells you, with her big eyes and bigger pout, looking at you as if you'd hung the stars by saying yes. it's a cheap shot, really, because she knows you or anyone would do pretty much anything when it comes to mina the birthday girl.

— and that's how you find yourself here, sitting in too nice of an outfit to be spending your allotted time listening to a man bash his ex-girlfriend.

you might have found him a bit cuter if he wasn't doing that, or if he showed even an ounce of interest in you whatsoever. instead, he's treating this like a therapy session, and you're not getting paid for it.

when the timer rings, you're more than thankful. irritated enough, even, to spin around the room in search of mina — who is happily watching on as two men grapple with each other for who gets to sit across from her next. you suppose being a top hero is good for that, finding someone who is willing to give you their all.

to yourself, you sigh quietly and turn back to the little bowl of strawberries in the center of the small table, the flutes of champagne on either side of it. mina's bottle, you noticed, is almost totally empty; your last date hadn't even looked at yours, nor did he seem to think to offer you a drink.

it's not that you're jealous. really. you wouldn't even say that you're interested in dating right now, finding your job at the agency to be too much of a whirlwind to balance, anyway. you love mina: she's your closest friend, your home away from home, your cheerleader and personal hero — but working for her is nothing short of a full-time job.

sometimes your bed is a little lonely, when she's not staying the night in it after another rom-com evening, but you really can't think that you'd like someone in it, anyway, much less a stranger. it's hard to explain where your time goes, who it goes with; having to share that with someone, you think, would take more emotional energy than you have right now.

and maybe it also sorta, kinda has to do with the fact that the one and only man you're thinking of outside of work — is the same man you see inside of it every single day.

the very thought of bakugou has your stomach turning, painfully. the image of him in the late afternoons with the sun glowing in his hair, the gentle look he spares you as you wait for the elevator, how he'd looked at you today, when you told him where you and mina were going; you don't know how anyone could make you feel the way he does, at least right now.

the seat across from you is taken up suddenly, then, and you look up into the eyes of someone that looks — nice. a little shy, a little nervous, as they introduce themselves. they decide to pour you a glass of champagne, and they even tell you, openly, voice shaking, how nice you look tonight.

you smile so hard that your cheeks hurt, much to your own surprise.

"i'm actually allergic to strawberries," they tell you with a laugh, gently pushing the bowl closer to you. "that would be a hell of a first date, wouldn't it?"

you agree. "definitely one to remember!"

"well, in that case—" they joke, suddenly leaning forward as if they're going to pull it back towards them, and it's so earnest and sweet that you feel your heartbeat in your throat a bit. "i sound like i'm kissing up to you, but—you have a really nice smile, also."

you have to sit back in your seat, fanning your face dramatically as you both laugh. "wow, i'm not used to someone—"

"time's up, extra."

you blink so hard that your eyes are crossed when you open them, and you look up at the man standing there, waiting for his turn, just as the timer dings and the room comes to life with a bustle. the person across from you only frowns, too timid to say anything in response before they're getting up and casting you a regretful glance. they're barely a foot away before the chair is taken, so aggressively that it scrapes against the floor and shakes the table.

you can't believe what you're seeing. you can't believe bakugou is sitting across from you, right now, ruining everything.

"what—are you doing?" you hiss, though your feelings — with a mind of their own — flutter like butterflies in your stomach at the sight of him.

the scowl he gives you is ugly, as always, but his face is smoother than you remember it being today; freshly shaven, maybe. the cologne he's wearing is strong, woodsy, potent enough that it dizzies you from across the table, that you can only imagine how sweet it smells soaking into the soft skin of his neck. even the shirt he's wearing, you notice, is a button down that you've never seen him in.

"the hell do you mean?" he growls, face pinched as he leans closer, so that his voice doesn't carry as it usually does. "'s'it look like i'm doin'? saving you from some sorry dumbass."

"bakugou," you grit, though the room quiets as everyone takes their seats again, and you have to swallow back your annoyance so you don't draw anymore attention to yourself.

you're not dumb enough to think he'd get away without some people fighting for his attention, too, the same way they did to mina, and — as irritated as you are, suddenly, at his appearance — you're not exactly keen on sharing him, either.

"they were very nice, thank you very much,"

"psh," he rolls his eyes, a muscle in his jaw jumping. "couldn't even look me in the eyes to tell me to fuck off—"

"maybe because they were worried you would blast them through the window—"

"and i would have—"

"oh!" you clench your hands into fists and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to will your anger back down. losing your cool isn't a good look, especially in a room of people that are trying to get to know you. "are you serious right now? why are you here?"

"you really wanna spend our five minutes doin' this?"

and there's something about the way he says it — our five minutes — that has your stomach turning in that horrible way it always does, whenever you bite into the softer parts of him. the look on his face is pensive, nervous if you thought that he was capable of being nervous. his shirt, his shaven cheeks, his alluring cologne; he's here, right now, on a date with you. pushed his way into it, even.

you straighten in your seat and sit back, dropping your eyes to the table, ashamed at the fire you've just thrown at him. "can you at least tell me why you're here in the first place?"

bakugou is silent for long enough that you can't stand not to take him in, how appealing he is to look at, how your heart sings when he looks back. one shake of his head has him sighing and then he's leaning back, too, staring only at the strawberries.

"this is her birthday thing, ain't it?"

"yeah," you murmur in agreement quietly, fiddling with your own fingers in your lap as your nerves harden into bitter disappointment. he's here for the same reasons you are, you tell yourself: for your friend, only.

distantly, you try to remind yourself that this nothing out of the ordinary. that you shouldn't be thinking of him this way, getting so hung-up on someone that's never expressed an interest in you to begin with. there have been a few late night conversations in the stairwell, that ran longer than they should have, that revealed more than they should have — but it doesn't make him yours. not in the way you want it to.

in an attempt to swallow down your own sourness, you reach for a strawberry, picking through them until you find the fattest one, and then bite it to the stem. a little stream of juice sprays out, dripping down over your bottom lip as you scramble for your napkin. you lick after it before patting at your face, spreading the sugar, the sweetness.

bakugou leans across the table so suddenly that you startle, mouth twisted like he's struggling to say what he's about to say. "alright, look—"

the timer rings, horribly, but his ruby stare never dims, never leaves yours and yours never leaves his, either, as if you're both suddenly trapped in a weird limbo of in-between; in-between the quiet moments, in-between the loudest ones, in-between everyone else, together.

and then mina notices.

"oh my god, blasty, you came!" she shouts, springing up from her seat to wave at you both from across the room. her earrings jingle loudly, bracelet beads knocking together as she leans too far to the left, champagne-drunk already. it snaps the moment between you and him, worry filling the gaps as you think about how you're going to get her out of here, once the night is over.

bakugou sinks a little further into his chair, as if it will hide him, before grumbling to himself. cheeks reddening, you realize; strawberry-kissed. he heaves a heavy sigh before digging his fingers into his eyes, deep enough that an ache develops in your own, and he opens his mouth to speak again when someone else approaches the table.

"okay, time to switcheroo!" he sings, grinning too cheerily at you, enough to make you laugh at his enthusiasm.

it darkens bakugou, considerably; "piss off," is all he says, scooting his chair further into the table as if to claim it. he barely gets another word out before the man is starting to protest, and the look he gives him then is awfully viscious: nostrils flared, looking up from beneath his long lashes and furrowed brow, as if this stranger had pissed in your champagne. "i said, fuck off, before i howitzer you through the—"

"okay!" you interrupt, reaching across the table with both hands to close one of bakugou's. his fingers are curled dangerously, and you swear you can see little sizzles of steam slipping between your linked fingers. "let's just—do an extra skip this time, okay? how about you just gives us this one, and you go to the next table?"

the man frowns — which is a bit flattering — but ultimately takes the lifeline you offer, trailing away without another word down to the next table. you can feel the couple on the other side watching you and bakugou now, a little open-mouthed, and your heart quickens at the worry that they're noticing him, that your new five minutes are going to be wasted, too.

—but his hand hasn't moved from yours and his eyes have returned, full to the brim with some emotion you can't read. if you had to guess, you'd say regret, maybe, but you aren't sure how to take that, and so you don't.

you should let him go, literally and figuratively, but the solidity of your logic is no match for the soft beat of butterfly wings in your gut.

"what are you doing?" you ask him again, softly, surely, because you want to hear the answer whatever it is. he either needs to deny you, here and now so you can move on — or he needs to acknowledge the confliction on his face, the soft intertwine of his fingers into yours.

bakugou looks at you now the way he does in the stairwell, the way he does when the sun is painting you warm, too. "i told you," he murmurs, "savin' you from some dumbass."

"but why do you even care?"

another heavy sigh falls from him and you can feel your glass-fragile heart breaking when his hand slips from yours, a little roughly. it surprises you when he grabs the champagne bottle from the center of the table and pours himself a small glass, downing it in one, bitter go before filling up your flute, too.

liquid confidence, maybe; his cheeks darken, noticeably, before he's running a rough hand over his face, still struggling to wash out the words.

"why the hell do you think?" he finally says, though his harsh question lacks the abrasive tone his voice usually has; instead it's gentler, more sincere, bakugou — katsuki — in his rawest form. "why d'you think i do—any of this shit?" one hand waves around to gesture to the span of the dining room, but you know he means more than that, much more. "you think i spend that much time after work just 'cause i have time to waste? jesus."

"i don't know," you say, earning a flat look. "why do you?"

"why do you?"

you take the glass from the center of the table and peer down into it, how it bubbles. maybe you're playing dumb and maybe that's what's really bothering him, but — someone like bakugou deals in absolutes, and you need him to do it now.

the struggle is clear, though, across his face, thickening how he swallows and turning down his lips that much more. you feel a bit bad in the silence, when the timer rings and the muscle in his cheek jumps again.

before anyone can even approach the table, he simply sticks his hand out, and the man beside you was definitely watching on, because he doesn't spare you a glance before going around.

and maybe, you think, decidedly, that's enough.

"because i don't want to go home yet," you tell him honestly, trying to ignore the blood rushing in your ears with his mouth twists and he starts to squirm at your truth. "because i'd rather spend the night with you in a stairwell, than anywhere else."

there's a ludicrous amount of tension that leaves his shoulders then, so much that you didn't notice it until it was gone, and he slumps back into his chair with pink ears, now. the sight makes you smile, widely, as if the sight is a confirmation.

maybe for him, it is.

"yeah, well," he grumbles, eyes dropping to the strawberries before darting away, as if he'd thought of something he shouldn't have. "that's what 'm sayin', too."

"no, you're not!" you laugh, nose crinkling when he side-eyes you with a frown. "you're not hardly saying anything!"

"i'm here, ain't i?" he argues, huffing like a bull. "makin' a damn idiot of myself just to stop you from—"

"—going home with some dumbass?"

"well, yeah!"

"so you want me to be going home with you, then?"

"yeah! no! i mean—" he scowls when you laugh again, lip pulling up over his teeth as if he means to bite into your softest parts, too. the thought is more thrilling that you're willing to admit — at least for now. "quit laughin'!"

but it's not just you; across the dining room, you realize mina's giggling, too, turned around in her seat, ignoring the chatty man that wouldn't shut up about his ex. when bakugou turns around to glare at her, she nearly tips out of her chair by throwing her head too far back, and when he moves to stand up like he needs to help her, all she does is wave at him to turn back around.

and he does, to you, cheeks flaring as he grabs the bottle of champagne again, pouring himself his own glass to glare into. he mutters out another quiet, "jesus" before slamming both his elbows on the table, rudely, and holding his glass up for — what you belatedly realize is — a cheers.

behind him, the afternoon sun has long since set, replaced now by nightfall and stars that shine through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows — but he glows regardless, and the look he gives you is just as warm.

[ohheyitsgray]

jse community you will always be famous

( @yesitssam @dinahdelightful @argrtagrhrgrggrgrgr -thank you for the asks!)

[me-sploh-rada-imas]

jutro po tebi mi diši [x]

[thebroccolination]

THE EX-MORNING SERIES CONCEPT

By now I think many people have heard that KristSingto’s upcoming series is an original script that was written for them. What we also have confirmed is that it was written about them.

[source]

KRIST: This series was written by P'Backaof and directed by P'Lit where they created this script from the start deliberately for the two of us and they got information for the characters etc. from KristSingto directly. In the series, the name for P'Sing is Tamtawan, and my name is Phatapi. And Tamtawan Tamtawan and Phatapi are KristSingto themselves.

INTERVIEWER: Does that mean you play yourself?

KRIST: [laughing] Yes, we act as ourselves, so it's not difficult at all.

Today, Aof elaborated on his part on Twitter:

[source: @backaof]

[translation: @_beinglistener]

And Jojo added:

[source: @jojotichakorn]

[translation: @_beinglistener]

So, two gay men are the leading creative minds behind KristSingto’s comeback series. Time to study up on your KristSingto history, kids. \:D/

Long live sanctioned RPF. 🎉

[insomnya777]

Two weeks. That's all it took. 

Two weeks of being in Scar's debt. Two weeks of being stuck on a desert with a madman. Two weeks of the sweltering heat and an insufferable man. 

That's how long it takes Grian to fall in love. 

read more on ao3

[thattheater-kid]

If I had a nickel for every time I was on my period while receiving horrifically devastating news about one of my comfort streamers, I’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice, right?

[dykeomania]

𝒎𝒊𝒂'𝒔 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒃𝒔: untitled (02)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: finger-fucking. you like ellie's tattoo. the end

𝐚/𝐧: mid certified mia classic containing all of the certified mia themes like getting fucked absolutely dizzy and mutual obsession and abrupt endings. started off as just a silly goofy thought and became something a little bit hornier than that (it's not that bad) (but like). lack of solid plot theme and other potential issues given the reason of yes it was just a thought at first and also because it was composed at like 1/2am. i have nothing else to really say for myself.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: (edited, because i realized i forgot this) -- vaginal penetration, domtop!ellie, pretty foul language. watching ellie while's hand while she fucks you. think that's it

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.1k?

thinking about ellie's forearm tattoo,

being the only thing you can focus on as she's sat between your legs, stationed above you like a daydream, with her fingers so snug and deep inside your cunt that you find yourself laying there with wide, wet eyes and a stiff body, choking on every moan that's meant to be a breath but that comes out as something ripped and stretched. her brows are knit together in some weird mix of shock and determination as she curses under her breath about how she's never seen you this wet before. about how you're a fucking disaster. been itching for me to fuck you, huh?

it started with the hand that she's got splayed across your lower abdomen. the one pressing on that fucking spot that's nestled so deep inside of you, that every person you'd fucked before ellie had convinced you that it was an itch that would never be scratched. but ellie is hitting it like she's memorized the route -- which she did. passes over it with the rough pads of her fingers in an intentional combination of strokes and come-hither motions stemming from curled fingers, and then has the audacity to push her hand down against the lower part of your stomach and press on it externally. you didn't even fucking know that she could do that -- you didn't know that you would feel that.

the width of her hand splayed across your lower torso was godlike. was something out of a book, or a movie, how her hand fit your frame like it was fucking made to be against you,

and then you notice it.

it's not until you're shivering with pleasure. ellie's arm is burning, and your body is unable to decide what it wants to do between fucking up against her slickened palm in some fueled fit of greed and delirium or sitting up -- or fighting to, rather -- and watching her, in some awkward position only accentuates the tightening in your both of your cores. regardless, your body seems pretty set on gripping some part of ellie's arm. you find that clawing at her bicep makes her occasionally moan into your mouth,

you find that gripping at her forearm makes her fuck you faster.

and in the moment where you can't believe the speed and the strength at with which she is fucking you, all your eyes can do is hang on the grip that you've got on her forearm. her tattooed forearm, containing veins that bulge and accentuate the stems. the design of the fern that was once flat, and two-dimensional, and is now alive. new branches are created everytime her arm flexes when she moves in, and out of you.

for some reason, the sight is brutal. it makes you gasp. makes your pussy gush over her fingers and stop breathing before releasing an all too honest, too rooted, too teary-eyed, oh my god.

you don't manage to catch the way ellie's lower lip is caught between her teeth. nor the rosiness of her cheeks, or the baby hairs lightly sticking to the perimeter of her forehead, her upper cheekbones just beginning to gather a minor perspire-induced glow. you do catch how she looks at you, but it's only because she laughs a little. catches on too quickly. knows from past experience.

like watching me when i fuck you? gets you off watching you cum all over my fingers, doesn't it?

making such a mess all over my hand, babe.

your head falls back with some grating mix of shock and embarrassment, and the whines that leave your lips are your only bet at being able to vocalize the two.

it's cut short, because ellie's hand reaches to pull you up by your jaw, gentle and rough all-the-same,

keep looking.

makes you so fucking wet, can feel all you.

gonna keep fucking you so, so good, baby.

just gotta keep those eyes on me while i fuck you.

and you believe her.

you believe her as you feel your stomach constrict, and release. you believe it as you feel all of the air in your lungs catch fire. you believe it as the image of her tattooed arm fucking you becomes blurrier, as your lashes begin to gather moisture and stick while some stupid fucking look paints your expression on your face and your nails press deep, red welts into the leaves. you believe her as you mumble her name over and over and over again, as she momentarily presses your foreheads together, as she presses a kiss to the side of it, down the side of your cheek, down the side of your neck,

there you go, baby.

just like that, yeah?

yes, holy fuck, just like that. the phrase is something you think or sputter rather than say. some remnant of it garbles it’s way out of your mouth as you watch her, as you watch both of you. watch your hips stir into every thrust she makes, enamored, like the action was a memory of something you don't remember doing. watch as you let yourself accept it. start bathing in the sound of her fingers moving in and out of your cunt, of the friction caused by the base of her palm grinding against your clit. feel a tear streaking down your cheek as she moves works three, long, rough digits inside of you, like she knows you. like she loves you, or loves seeing you like this -- at this point, it has to be both.

to your ear, she whispers, somewhere mixed in the chaos, lips catching against the lobe of it,

i know, baby.

so good, feels so nice and tight around my fingers.

love fucking you like this, want you to cum for me.

one minute your legs are spread to let her in as deep as you can, and then they're straggling, knees scrambling to press themselves together,

yeah? gonna cum for me?

gonna make a mess on my hand, baby?

fuck, yeah. just like that, baby, cum for me.

take it all, and cum for me, just like that, just like that--

and the only time when you are able to pull yourself away from the sight, from the reality of a pleasure that was so impossible gifted to you from a girl so unreal, is when the world collapses underneath the arch of your back,

when her name leaves your lips embodying a literal, textbook, broken devotion,

while your pussy spasms and you wet the lower half of the fern that you were so focused on,

and is when your eyes roll. somewhere far, far into the back of your head.

[total-drama-brainrot]

Alenoah Week 2024: Day 3 - "TDWT Ending Rewrite"

The trek to the top of the volcano was, in layman's terms, agonizing.

Searing heat, somehow simultaneously swelteringly humid and suffocatingly dry, blistered at every inch of Noah's exposed skin and burned through his lungs like hot coals with every laboured breath. The sweat that would've been dripping from his exhausted body like a faulty faucet didn't even have the opportunity to form into pearl-shaped droplets before it evaporated against the overwhelming force of just how fucking hot it was.

And yet he'd made it.

He'd gotten there first, too.

Noah had somehow managed to out-slither the slippery fiend whilst the two were stumbling across the skipping stones of a lava lake, despite the weight of his pineapple dummy causing him to falter after almost every step.

The maw of the volcano bubbled and spat embers at his feet, just a few measly inches from the cynic himself. It was time to end it; the competition, the show, his… rivalry with Alejandro.

As if the mere thought of the Spaniard had somehow summoned him, Noah heard the tell-tale clicking of heeled boots against rock behind him quickly followed by harsh, laboured panting (not nearly as desperate as his own wheezing, but a far cry from the womanizer's usual composure). Alejandro's ponytailed hair rose from the plateaued peak of the volcano, followed by a pair of thick eyebrows furrowed against sweat-sheened skin, then a pair of furious sage green eyes- and sage was the most appropriate description Noah could think of, since they burned with a competitive fire comparable to the all-encompassing heat around them.

"It's over, Alejandro. I have the high ground."

Noah's voice was a hoarse, painful rasp, though whether it was from its unbearable dryness or the tenseness of the situation, he wasn't sure. He stood firmly at the edge of the volcano, searing light illuminating the edges of his form like a foreboding halo as he held Pinealejandro almost covetingly in a bridal carry, hovering the dummy over the scorching cavern of its imminent demise.

Alejandro- the human one, not the pineapple one- continued his unwavering ascent to the volcano's peak until he was but a few insignificant feet away from Noah. His shoulders visibly rose and fell with each huff of magma-scorched breath, and the barbaric snarl he bared towards the bookworm twisted his handsome features into something wild, alight with a passion that burned at white-hot as the lava below.

Then he roared.

"You underestimate my power!"

And lunged towards Noah, carelessly discarding his own pineapple dummy (comparatively twiggier and more feeble looking than Noah's own) as he cleared the space between them in the blink of a cinder-dusted eye.

"I will not lose to someone as infuriating as you!"

Before he could process what was even happening, Noah found himself scooped away from the edge of the volcano and lifted a few extra meters off of the ground, held victoriously above the latino in an overhead lift like he was some sort or glorified barbell. The shock of which inadvertently caused him to drop his own dummy, sending the construct tumbling into the bubbling, gaping chasm below until it plunged into the awaiting magma with a barely audible 'plop'.

For a brief tension-paused moment the two remained eerily still, almost frozen in place with disbelief (an impressive feat, considering it was far too fucking hot for anything to freeze atop the volcano).

Well.

That was that, then.

…It was sort of anticlimactic, really. Noah was almost disappointed.

"Um," The bookworm began, quickly schooling his surprise at being lifted and brandished like a javelin into his usual apathetic countenance, "Are you going to put me down, or…?"

Noah's enquiry was met a bark of high pitched laughter, a sound so entrenched in sardonic humour it was practically swimming in animosity.

"Ah, but Noah," Alejandro preened indulgently, as if he were speaking to a small child, and his snarl curled into a manic grimace. The archvillain's eyes were widened to their extreme, dying wisps of ember light flickering across his gaze which trailed from the waifish nerd held above his head to the boiling magma below.

"I still have a dummy to discard of."

In other words,

THROW THAT TWIG

INTO THE VOLCANO!!!

[kitnita]

speed.hd: check out how many went in 👀

[neptunym]

ms paint doodles for @post-it-notes7 's fic series, heart and soul. i highly recommend it to anyone that either likes the kirby anime or meta knight bc it's a delight to read :]

[funsize-cenobites]

Mihawk-Brain-Eating-Syndrome has seized me with such a gorilla grip I am losing my fucking mind so I guess we're doing this.

The post that started this whole train of thought came from @manofbeskar who's Mihawk thoughts, Mishanks heartwrenchers, and absolutely gorgeous art are so inspiring I feel chewing-on-the-doorframe feral every time I check their blog.

So.. thoughts of the day that Im just tossing into the void to get it out of me because otherwise it will fester inside me and make me ill:

Mihawk has a complicated relationship with vivre cards. Despite his best efforts to keep the world and everyone in it at arm and Yoru length he does manage to keep collecting bits of them though.

Not many nowadays of course, its a rather intimate affair after all; to have someone give you a literal piece of their life so that you may always find them no matter where in the wide seas you may be and that you'll be the first to know should they leave that world entirely. Far too intimate. It feels too obvious, too heavy handed, too much like handing him your heart and asking him to carry it. Such a thing is heavier than any blade and all the bloody deeds he can never truly wipe from the steel.

Its gentle and vulnerable and human, all the things hes convinced he can play at but never truly be again.

But I imagine at the start of his journey he was a touch more open, perhaps accepting his first from a mentor as a parting of ways. Though he didn't yet have one of his own to offer in return. Strange how a simple piece of card in his palm could feel like an open door. Always there, inviting him home. Always there, until it wasn't.

He will never forget the first time he felt one burning away into nothing in his hands. It went up so quick.. he had no idea it could take less than a minute to burn a home.

Then perhaps he found a crew, a more tangible place to nest and he suddenly had more vivre cards than he could tuck away on his person in a timely manner. Perhaps it became a ritual of sorts each morning, a part of his routine to tuck each one away. The captain, vice captain, and the rest of the specialists lining the inner band of his hat while the rest of the crew were individually squirreled away. A meditation, grounding and quiet. He would use it to remind himself of his role as the crew's swordsman, as their protector.

How could he forget the sharp sear of each individual card burning away, stuck close to his skin by waterlogged clothing as he dragged himself ashore gasping and choking on sea and blood and smoke. Having been left by marines that assumed he would drown because- perhaps pointed out by one that had deceived him, made Mihawk believe they were his friend to be led back to his family:

"No freak like that could exist without having eaten the devil's fruit."

How could he forget the embers escaping, dancing in the evening gloam like fireflies swarming around him? There were so many.. now there are none and gods he's been so empty since. How could such a small piece of paper take so much of him? To kill a man with a blade, even butchering him inelegantly, would be a greater mercy so long as he was dead.

Nowadays Mihawk knows better. Knows better than to trust or be trusted. That blades might chip and tarnish but they dont burn, never completely.

Yoru hums and sings in his hands as he wields her and she does not feel like home.. but she feels solid and eternal and cold. She will never burn. Her weight is bearable.

Impersonal.

Professional.

Yoru makes death an art in his hands. She is the brush not the paper, spattering fireflies over a night sky.

. . .

For years after, he kept far from others. Deciding to never get so close to anyone ever again. Safe in the knowledge he would never feel the burning sting of loss nor the cold cut of betrayal so acutely. Trust was a double edged blade, perhaps the only one he truly couldn't handle.

He was no protector.. so he wouldn't try to be.

Instead Mihawk would hunt. Chasing the marines mercilessly. Cutting a bloody path through their ranks and burning their fucking fortresses to the ground. At first they spoke of him as an insane lone swordsman, then a one man army, then a monster, a demon. The relentless yellow eyed freak that stalked the seas and nightmares of future vice admirals.

He systematically killed all those that harmed him. A shadow over the shore, a rogue wave swallowing their ships, a curse of vengeance come to reap. He destroyed all the records of his crew that he could get his hands on. If he must be cursed to slowly forget them over time, then the world government didnt deserve their memory either.

And so on it went for a time. Long enough for the hunt to lose its luster. Slaughtering sheep by the herd in search of a rare wolf.

Mihawk had almost forcibly forgotten about Vivre cards as a concept. His own remained untouched, never moving from where he hid it. He had no friends, no family, no nakama. Only a dwindling list of worthy foes to test himself against.

Until the day the king of pirates died. Until their golden age truly began.

Until he met Shanks, who held out a hand and asked him to step out of the monochrome past and into a thousand possible vibrant futures. Ones of lush reds and glittering golds, of polished onyx black and the purest, deepest blue.

.

"Here," Shanks said suddenly one night, holding out a small scrap of paper. The both of them were perched atop the ruins of a high sea wall on some remote island, enjoying the cold breeze from the north after a hard fought duel.

Mihawk, for all his composure, blanched. "What is that?" He knew and he did not take it.

"What do you think it is? Its a piece of my card." He said it so simply. Like it barely occured to him how precious such a thing was. Shanks didn't drop his arm, even as the silence stretched out between them.

"No."

"Come on, Takanome- Dont be like that! We're nak--"

"Rivals." He cut the younger man off abruptly. His chest felt too hot and too tight, burning and burning and, "We are rivals, Akagami."

Shanks must've been pouting, he could hear it in his voice, "Even more reason for you to take it. We could duel every day if you could always find me~ Come on.. Please? I want you to have it."

"...."

Hawkeyes glanced at his best friend rival and immediately regretted it. Shank's face was always full of so much hope, so much faith in... something.. It made Mihawk's heart catch in his throat every time to see those big earnest eyes staring at him almost as if, for a moment, it was faith in him.

"I don't know if I can give you mine.." He murmured. Shanks smiled soft, a little sad, and infuriatingly understanding without needing to know anything.

"I dont need it. I know you'll always find me." He pressed his heart, his home the scrap into Mihawk's palm and closed the swordsman's fingers over it. "And if I need to find you.. I'll just ask the wind."

[daffi-990]

Fuck it Friday/Inspiration Saturday

Tagged by @honestlydarkprincess (welcome back! 😄) @spagheddiediaz @wikiangela and @hippolotamus

It’s Saturday morning for me so I’m combining Friday and Saturday’s tag games together and giving you all a longer snippet 😊

Fresh from the notes app on my phone, here’s some Rival Firefighters 🚒.

Continues on from this snippet.

“I’d ask how,” Eddie says as he approaches Buck, gesturing to the hose tangled around his ankles, “but I don’t even think you know.”

Startled, Buck whips his head towards Eddie, the sudden movement paired with the hose shackling his feet causing him to lose his balance. Eddie rushes forward, hands on Buck’s arms to steady him so he doesn’t fall flat on his face.

He helps Buck right himself, unaware the action has brought them closer together until he lifts his eyes from Buck’s feet and suddenly all he can see is blue. Blue like the sky on a crisp spring morning, soft and calm, not a cloud in sight. Eddie’s hands tighten on Buck’s biceps and oh god his biceps. Eddie has seen the muscles Buck is packing, seen them in action while in the gym and out on the job but actually touching them, feeling them under his hands, well it’s something else.

He looks to where his right hand is securely wrapped around Buck’s bicep, letting himself admire for just a moment how good it looks there before reluctantly releasing his hold and pulling away. He takes a step back from Buck, hands still outstretched and hovering just in case he loses his balance again.

Buck chuckles, the noise almost sounding breathless. “Uh th-thanks, Eds.” There’s a light pink blush forming on his cheeks that has Eddie internally groaning. Buck has no right to look so pretty. How is Eddie supposed to function under these conditions?

Clearing his throat (and hopefully his head), Eddie points down at the hose still wrapped around Buck’s feet. “You uh- you want me to?”

Buck follows the direction of Eddie’s finger, eyes widening as if he forgot the predicament he was in before Eddie startled him.

“Yes. Please.” The blush on Buck’s face deepens. He’s obviously feeling embarrassed about the whole situation, which is fair. A firefighter getting tangled in their hose? Yeah the boys in blue would have a field day with that.

“Only you, Buck.” Eddie says fondly as he bends down to start freeing Buck’s feet. Thankfully the hose isn’t knotted so Eddie is able to make quick work of it.

“Hey, I gotta keep you on your toes. Can’t have your last few days here be boring now can I? Then you’d never want to come back.” Buck is grinning down at him but Eddie sees the worry behind the smile.

“You know I don’t want to leave, right?” Eddie says as he stands, holding out the tangled hose to Buck. He knows Buck doesn’t cope well with people leaving, the man had told him so himself, opening up and spilling out some of his abandonment issues one night over a few beers.

Buck sighs as he accepts the hose from Eddie. “I know.” He walks over to the engine, Eddie following him, and takes a seat on the bumper. “I just-I just wish you could stay, ya know?” Buck looks up at him, eyes full of a sadness Eddie knows has everything to do with his upcoming departure. “M’gonna miss working with you.”

No pressure tagging: @watchyourbuck @jamespearce9-1-1 @spotsandsocks @callmenewbie @rainbow-nerdss @exhuastedpigeon @steadfastsaturnsrings @eddiebabygirldiaz @wildlife4life @athenagranted @fortheloveofbuddie @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @devirnis @try-set-me-on-fire @disasterbuckdiaz @giddyupbuck @the-likesofus @hoodie-buck @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @captain-hen @weewootruck @princessfbi @fiona-fififi @sibylsleaves @nmcggg @monsterrae1 @malewifediaz @loserdiaz @lover-of-mine @ladydorian05 and anyone else wanting to share something.