#I am returning to my roots

[daichis-thighs]

mother was right, genshin WAS a phase

[henryscapon]

how to ask the demon you've been smitten over for 6000 years to dance: an angel's guide

bonus:

[jodefrostwallart]

Got obsessed with SV again oops

[valentineveils]

installing rpgmaker xp

[razzware]

my luminous mama

[kitkat13001]

୭ ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟ modern!eren jaeger x reader

⤷ college au, athlete!eren, sick reader, brief mentions of vomit (vague, nondescriptive)

barring actual death, this week has been probably the worst of your life. 

you don’t think there’s anything more you could’ve done to prevent yourself from getting sick, but here you are, immobilized in bed like a dying victorian orphan. there’s only one upside to being this sick, and that’s when your boyfriend gets to wait on you hand and foot, coddling you until you feel even a little better. but eren isn’t here with you, he’s miles upon miles away for a big tournament.

distance hasn’t lessened his concern for you, apparent in the way he’s been calling you at least twice a day since you told him you were feeling under the weather. 

“no, babe, i’m like so sick right now,” you complain, congestion evident in your voice. 

“for real?”

“yeah, it’s so bad. and it’s not like a common cold or anything either, eren, this is the flu.”

“that bad?”

“i puked three times yesterday.”

you can practically hear his wince through the phone. “yikes.”

“yeah, so that’s me,” you sigh, “barfing and coughing and feverish. how are you holding up? having fun?”

“yeah, it’s been okay. we’re keeping our streak. i’m calling from the bus right now, actually.”

“oh, fun! tell the team hi for me.”

he hums his assent, but quickly turns the conversation back to you. “you want me to bring you anything back?”

“just your handsome self, preferably injury-free. miss you lots.”

“i’ll be back before you know it,” he promises. there’s some rustling on the line. 

“you just getting there?” you ask, sniffling into a tissue. 

“mhm. just gimme a second, baby.”

you hum patiently, eyes fluttering closed while you wait. 

“goddamn!” you jump when the door swings open, revealing eren standing in the doorway. his bags are in his arms and he’s still on the line, phone tucked between his shoulder and ear.  “you were right, babe, this place looks like shit. dishes on the nightstand and everything.”

he smiles and hangs up the phone while you lie in shock, scrambling to sit up and compose yourself. 

“when did you come in?!” you cry, “i didn’t even hear the door, my ears are so stuffed from my sinus plug-up. i thought you were on the bus to nationals!”

“i said i was on the bus, not on the bus to nationals,” eren corrects, grinning. “armin told me you were sick so i flew down to come take care of you.”

“but you’ll miss the big game!”

he waves a hand dismissively, blowing a raspberry. “it’s not for three days. plenty of time for me to hang out with you until you’re better. i’ll fly out the day before the game, directly to the city.”

“but what if you catch my virus?” you whine, pushing him away weakly. 

he smirks at your pitiful attempts. “i googled it. you’re not really contagious after the fifth day, so i’m aaaaallll yours~”

“erennn, you can’t risk it before your big game. what if—“

“shush, don’t worry so much. i’ll be careful, okay? lysol everything you touch.”

“everything? twice? you better promise.”

he holds his hand up in a mocking oath. “i swear. i’ll be mike wazowski spraying himself in the eyeball in monsters inc.”

you give a weak giggle and immediately wince at the pain in your throat. 

eren makes himself comfortable at your bedside, holding up a steaming container. “y’want soup? picked it up on my way back.”

you stare at him through watery eyes. “let’s get married. deadass.”

he laughs, fishing out a plastic spoon from his bag. “maybe when you’re not bedridden with the flu. ‘kay, now say ‘ahhh’.”

wrote this last year when i had the most godawful flu known to man and finished it this year when i got sick 3 times in the span of a month n a half :)

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

random firsts in some different flavours

[eternalstrigoii]

Snippet because I'm feral

The dark was still, cloying, and it smelled like you.

Under the blanket, Remmick shifted. It didn’t register, at first, that he had been asleep. He couldn’t remember needing to. Wanting to. Whether the periodic gaps in his memory were from the condensation of time or something more natural, something as inescapable as the deep – sudden – breath that pushed sweet air back into his lungs. His hips moved, shifting for the first time in how many hours; they found the satin warmth of your thigh still draped over his. His arm over your back. Moving, even softly, awakened some long buried instinct to pull you closer, press the heat of your body into his.

Your head was on his shoulder, face buried in his neck. Like you’d forgotten about the blankets you’d strung up over the windows, the only way to keep him as he was – bare, let alone in your bed. Your breath was a gentle pulse along where his once beat.

He was glad he hadn’t disturbed you.

You slept hard enough to drool on him a little, and the ghost of a smile crossed his face. He was tryin’ not to dwell on those soft feelings – was no point – even though his fingers skimmed along the pathway of your spine. It was hot and bright out there, he knew. Whatever sleep he had hadn’t washed the day out. It felt oppressive, like a fire blazing on the roof.

You shifted, then. Motivated by his touch, maybe, or simply the urge to draw the warmth of your body more closely to his. Your forehead pressed into the place below his jaw, lips and nose brushing from the crook of his shoulder to the hollow of his throat. Sent sensations like stars breaking through a clouded night right through him.

“G’mornin,” he mumbled, something selfish in the way his lips brushed your hair. Hadn’t even realized he didn’t settle his touch, though his fingers had stalled just below your shoulders.

The little pickup in your heart gave your awakening away. If he thought his desires were selfish, he should’ve felt how his voice traced your nerves. You noticed it when he let his guard down whether or not he did; you hadn’t cared for the Carolina drawl much. Listening to the way he must’ve sounded to himself felt exceedingly more intimate.

“Mornin’.” You flexed your toes to warm them up and brushed the half-cool skin of his calf in the process. If he noticed, he didn’t seem to mind. “Hungry?”

He caught himself wondering if it was a habit of yours to ask before your hand moving up his chest disrupted his ability to think. Your mouth was soft and seeking, pressing to his neck once, twice, a tender third time before your hand settled on his shoulder for leverage to partially rise. His eyes traced your skin all over again as you bared it to him, as if he hadn’t done a fine job of committing you to memory into this morning.

His eyes were a dark, pretty red. Hadn’t meant to let you see that.

You pushed your hair back, letting it cascade over his hand. The outline of where he’d bitten you last night was already faded, little more than an old scar.

His hand came up. Moved up your shoulder to trace it with reverent, probing fingers. The outline of his teeth were already gone, only pale moons lingered where his fangs had punctured. It was like he’d marked you, though – reasonably – he knew those marks would fade. Maybe in a day or two. Nobody but he and you would ever know how deep he’d been inside you – literally, tangibly, his teeth in your skin and his body fit with yours like you both belonged there. The way blood felt running down his back when your claws pressed in; the way your cunt clung to him when he made you cum.

How long had it been since he joined with someone like that? Pushed you to the release you needed and joined you without waiting? Not since…

You got closer. Cupped his jaw, your thumb brushing along his lower lip.

You were inviting him.

The muscles of his lower stomach tensed.

When was the last time he’d hesitated? He searched the soft set of your mouth for disapproval. The warmth of your not-quite-human eyes. Dog brown, now, soft and sweet. He had the aching, selfish urge to crawl up inside you – pull you forward, sit you down on his cock, drag your hips close until you could only feel flesh on flesh and how perfectly he fit, like he was made for you, like he’d done something to deserve this – to be in you, on you, with you. Still ask even though you welcomed him. Still promise when he meant to beg.

This was a hunger deeper than it should’ve been.

[macksartblock]

=> fight (your husband)

[autworaton]

riz redraw!

side-by-side comparison under the cut :-)

[kiisaes]

glance

[heynhay]

💞

[daphnalia]

did some soul searching last night

relying on my old tumblr mutuals to give this post 5 likes because wdym noones posted abt him in half a year???

[sillywebz]

(crawls out of a hole) Hey guys whats up

[mxrcusflint]

where the wind blows 1k, character study, this ones for the Bradley lovers 🤍

Bradley Bradshaw in twelve questions, underneath the shadow of the belly of the jet.

Read on AO3

[odd-critter]

what the crap homestar?! knock off the religious imagery in my freakin room! you're seriously the freaking out the cheat!!!!