#Time for home your honor

[fartemis-crock]

NAME: kat! exactly what's on the tin.

PRONOUNS: she/her, your honor

MOST ACTIVE MUSE(S): this one bby im a boring ass bitch tbh I got one at a time

RP PET PEEVES: I can tell when people dont even bother to look at my pinned post :)))) drives me nuts to have to send the hey! this isn't yj artemis message over and over again. I am never irritated at the person but it gets annoying QUICK. also--- when someone clearly expect a specific dynamic and gets upset that I can't read their mind about it

EXPERIENCE/HOW MANY YEARS: idk too many. I've taken so many year long breaks that I dont even know at this point

FLUFF, ANGST, or SMUT: all of the above!!! I just kinda filter through moods of what I want to do tbh. Whatever the vibe gods take me to--- tho, I will just state for the class;; i write smut snippets/drabbles over actually rping smut. I only actively write smut with muns that I know ooc

LONG/SHORT REPLIES: ok so--- I like to ramble. long replies. BUT I DO LOVE WRITING SCRIPT TOO. I just like to over-explain RVERYTHING in the tags then

BEST WAY TO INTERACT: send me memes!!! Im an odd little duck, I love chatting ooc but i need something to launch the conversation with and I usually do that by chatting with someone about memes

THAT BEING SAID. my inbox is ungodly full and im overwhelmed by it so it might take awhile for me to get to stuff

BEST TIME TO WRITE: VERY EARLY IN THE MORNING OR RIGHT BEFORE SLEEP. im actually trying to cut tumblr out of my morning routine rn tho bc my lil addictive personality brain goes OO.

Tagged by: @threadpull thx <333

Tagging: idk who hasn't done it yet. So YOU 👊

[ceruark]

☆ killah ☆

♫ "if i get you alone, under your skin and bone, imma try you on for size" the MAYHEM collection. now playing: killah.

[childhood friend! sunday x fem! reader] synopsis: you return home from uni after breaking up with your boyfriend, where your childhood friend awaits you with open arms... and no ulterior motives. wc: 2.0k cw: explicit smut. MDNI. sunday is a bit of a freak. implied obsessive and possessive behavior.

“massive day for sunday oak,” kakavasha jokes when you break the news to your friends back home that you finally broke up with your awful boyfriend.

your relationship with sunday, your childhood best friend, had become… strained, for some reason, after you’d told him that you were in relationship with someone you’d met on campus. things were still tense from you choosing to go to a different college despite the fact that you’d both been accepted into the same prestigious one that he’s currently attending, but this seemed to be the nail in the coffin. sunday still texted you frequently, of course, but you did notice how he would never like or comment on a post or close friends story that featured your then-boyfriend in it.

he’s not the type of person to do something without purpose, after all.

kakavasha, someone you’d both met in high school who is a friend to you (to sunday, too, not that either will ever admit it) hounds you constantly about sunday’s supposed crush on you. 

“he’s being passive-aggressive.” the smugness in his voice somehow always manages to carry through the phone speaker. “i don’t know why you won’t admit to yourself that he’s down bad for you.”

“he’s not,” you insist, even though you know somewhere in the back of your mind, that sunday has always looked at you in a way that kakavasha and veritas never have.

despite your feigned denial and ignorance, though, you’re a bit nervous to be home for the summer. you’d broken up with your ex at the beginning of the semester, meaning that a solid five months have passed since then. you feel like you’ve moved on and are ready for whoever life sends your way next.

a mindset and shift in your demeanor that sunday will be able to pick up on immediately.

sunday knows you better than anyone— undoubtedly, even better than you know yourself. it can get uncomfortable, at times, being under his scrutinizing, all-seeing gaze and being handled as meticulously as one of the projects assigned to him by his adoptive father as a test to see if he is indeed a worthy heir.

maybe you are a personal project to him. he’s always so careful, so calculated in his interactions with you that it leaves you feeling slightly uneasy, but only after the fact. no, in the moment, you’re always blinded by your fondness and long-time affection for him, something which he knows. which he uses to his advantage.

so, yes, you do play dumb when it comes to sunday. you know how he is, what he’s capable of— you’ve been witness to his colder, crueler side countless times, have exchanged your fair share of wide-eyed side glances with robin— and you know that if show even an ounce of interest, he’ll seriously pursue you, and he’ll execute it so flawlessly that you won’t even realize what hit you until you’re already nestled deep within his grasp.

you know this, and yet.

you agree to go over to his house (mansion, really; all these years, and you still get lost in dewlight pavilion if you’re not with sunday or robin) the day after your flight lands. his more questionable behaviors aside, you do love sunday dearly, and you do want to see him again, especially now that things aren’t tense between you anymore.

a foolish thing to do, in hindsight. why do you never trust your instincts when he’s involved?

he’s been driving you insane all day. his touches linger, but not nearly long enough for you to actually be able to call him out on it. you’ll think you catch something needy in his gaze, but when you do a double-take, he’s the perfect picture of innocence, listening to you attentively, as always.

sunday has always been attractive, you’d be an idiot to try and convince yourself otherwise. but you’ve always been hesitant out of fear of ruining your friendship with him— that, and because of the depth of his feelings for you.

you should know that he’s stringing you along, working you up on purpose. he’s always known how to read you, carefully tracing your lines with his finger as if you’re sheet music detailing his favorite song, committing your notes to memory and playing you so masterfully, like he was born to do nothing else but ensure that you are his finest piece of work.

and as you’ve always known, you’re already in too deep by the time your brain catches up to what he’s been scheming; you’ve got him pushed back against his headboard while you straddle his lap, hands tangled in his hair as you kiss him senseless. his hands are at your waist, fingers digging into your skin as he keeps trying to pull you impossibly closer to him. his mouth is pliant beneath yours, following your lead and movements with small moans and gasps slipping out in between. 

he trails after you when you pull back, so you place a hand against his chest to keep him in place. it snaps him out of it enough for him to open his eyes. he looks absolutely debauched with his blown pupils and puffy lips, and you try to ignore what the sight does to the heat building between your thighs. 

“is this—” you clear your throat. “is this really okay?”

his eyes are locked onto your lips as you speak. “why wouldn’t it be?” he asks back. 

“you— you haven’t done anything before, sunday,” you say. “i don’t want you to regret it.”

he finally meets your eyes at that. one hand removes itself from your waist and comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking it gently. 

“i could never regret you, dove,” he whispers, and you feel your face flush bright red at the nickname.

you swallow thickly. the devotion will take some getting used to. “are you sure?”

he drags you toward him, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “of course,” he murmurs against them.

you adjust yourself on his lap, leaning into him fully, your chest pressing against his. he sucks in a shaky breath at the contact, his hand finding its way to your waist again. “you’ll let me know if it’s too much, right?”

he nods weakly, distracted. when you raise an eyebrow, he mutters out, “yes, i will.”

“okay,” you say, satisfied. 

and then you descend on him again, lips meeting in a mess of tongue and desperation. you hike the skirt of your dress up and begin to slowly rock your hips back and forth against his clothed erection, and the groan that leaves his throat sends a rush of heat shooting down your spine, pooling in the pit of your stomach. 

after a few minutes, he pulls away just enough to hiss out a desperate, “please.”

nodding, you lean back and begin fumbling with his belt. once it’s off, you pull his pants as far down his legs as you can without removing yourself from him completely. his boxers are soaked through, and you feel yourself swallowing again in anticipation as you reach inside of them. he jolts again when your hand wraps around his girth, another whine slipping out of his lips as he involuntarily bucks into your hand. with your other hand, you begin moving his boxers down his thighs as well, and pull his cock free.

he’s on the slimmer side, but he’s definitely longer than your ex— the only person you’ve ever been intimate with. you might have some trouble taking him fully, but judging from the amount of pre already dripping down his cock— and the mess between your own legs, dripping down your thighs— it might be able to slip in just fine.

huffing out a shaky sigh of your own, you hurriedly remove your own panties, tossing them somewhere to the side of the bed. you shift upward, carefully lining his cock up with your hole. you both groan a little bit when his tip brushes against your entrance.

you place a hand on his shoulder and rub your thumb in circles against his collarbone and, voice lilting, ask, “are you ready?”

“yes,” he breathes out.

slowly, you start sinking down onto his cock. a soft whine escapes you as his tip stretches you on its way in, a sigh of relief leaving you when it slips in and you start taking in his shaft.

sunday’s grip is near-bruising as you descend fully, and a strangled moan leaves him when you sit down on him completely. a choked gasp leaves you when his tip hits something deep within, a part of you that’s never been reached before.

he leans forward and presses his forehead to your shoulder. you gently card a hand through his hair, letting both him and yourself adjust.

when he leans back again, you place both your hands on his shoulders.

“i’m going to move now,” you say, “that okay?”

“please,” he whines again, and you giggle and press a sweet kiss to his lips.

you move yourself up and off of him just enough so that his tip is barely leaving your entrance before you slam back down again, taking him at a fast pace. 

whatever control he was trying to maintain over himself unravels quickly, and the whines that leave him stoke the flames burning in the pit of your stomach even more, knowing that you’re responsible for picking him apart like this. your own whines mingle with his, as each bounce has his tip slamming into that sensitive spot again and again, pushing you toward the edge faster than your ex or any toy ever has.

he’s getting close— you can feel him twitching inside you, and his whines are escalating into deep, loud moans that he tries to muffle by burying his face into your chest. you’re not quite there yet, but you’re not too worried about coming today; making his first time enjoyable is enough to satisfy you.

as if sensing your resolve, though, sunday removes a hand from your waist— something you don’t realize until his cool fingers are prodding at your clit. your hips jerk forward at the sudden contact, sucking in a sharp breath as he begins kneading it.

his movements are a bit sloppy at first, but he’s always been a quick learner, especially when it comes to you. when one particular motion has you crying out suddenly, he’s pressing harder against that spot and massaging it faster, bringing you closer to your high.

your movements have become erratic and your walls are fluttering when he tries to speak again, voice hoarse. “i— i’m—”

“inside,” you moan out, the word slurring as you feel yourself hanging on by a thread. “‘s okay.”

sunday gives a few a more thrusts before one more loud whine rips itself from his throat. he gives one last aborted jerk as he unloads into you, and the warmth that fills you pushes you over edge at last, and somehow, even through his own haze, he continues rubbing against your clit as you ride out your high.

eventually, you slump forward, collapsing against his chest as you catch breath and bring your racing heart back down. a hand comes up to cradle your hair gently, and he presses a tender kiss to your temple.

now clear-headed, you sigh, poking a finger into his rib. “you did all of that on purpose, didn’t you?”

he laughs, innocent enough if you didn’t know him as well as you do.

“whatever are you talking about?” he asks. he pulls you back by the hair gently, gazing into your eyes. there’s mischief and something a bit darker in them. “you came onto me.”

you roll your eyes at him. “what am i gonna do with you?”

he takes your hand in his, bringing it up to his lips and brushing your knuckles against them.

“i can think of a few things.”

[hollytree33]

“Not much farther now.”

Wanted to try my hand at a mock screenshot study of Shivana! This is of the night before she reached the Temple of Sacred Ashes, before a much longer journey begins (she did not dress for the weather)

[sacredfixation]

Loki fixes his jacket, Mobius doesn't look, and I fall apart

I was in the midst of making a thirst edit for loki, I was just admiring loki being unfairly attractive when I ended with anything but a thirst edit and got emotionally devastated instead.

I refer to that little moment of Loki straightening himself out. First, when he's trying to find his footing at the TVA. When he first puts on his jacket, its this smooth, practiced motion, he sweeps that hair back, adjusts his lapels, chin up, like he's slipping into a role, trying to play along, trying to present himself as someone in control even though he is anything but.

And mobius, watching him, already amused, interested.. and Loki sees that, clocks it, gives that tiny little 'oh you like this?' smile.

Then cut to Dons timeline and tell me why Loki does the exact same motion, only this time, its hesitant. In the TVA it was almost performative, like he was trying to present himself well.

But Dons timeline? its more tentative, like he's nervous, like he wants to get it right.. Because now it isn't just some TVA game. This is Mobius, living a quiet human life that Loki isn't apart of. Its almost like Loki's bracing himself before stepping back into something he knows he can't stay in.

And Mobius-Don- god. Mobius doesn't clock it this time. Because this isn't that kind of story anymore. Theres no knowing little smirk, no teasing remark- just Don, squinting at Loki like a stranger.

Its the tragedy of the saddest little muscle memory. The way Loki's hands move before he could ever even realise why. Because once upon a time, in a place that doesn't exist anymore, he did this exact thing. He straightened his jacket, swept his hair back and looked up- and Mobius was there.

Watching him. noticing him. Seeing him.

Mobius doesn't see him this time. Not in the way he used to. And yet, Loki straightens his jacket. Because some part of Loki remembers what it was like to be looked at by him.

[lovesodeepandwideandwell]

EVERYONE STOP WHAT YOU'RE DOING AND COME TO CONCORD NC

[frenchiefitzhere]

When I wrote all the Marie & Colm fics, I was single. Very very very single and pretty unhappy actually.

It was all wish fulfillment at the time. And maybe there were people out there who thought “They’re too precious with each other. Nobody’s like that in real life.” Or not. Maybe it was believable. I don’t know. I was just writing it the way I wanted it to be.

But I have since found my person. And he loves me like how I wrote Colm loving Marie.

I just realized that. It’s real. 🥰

[onelastsailxr]

Forcing my way through the day and the only thing keeping me sane is the knowledge that once I get home, I can watch Deadpool and Wolverine once again in peace :')

[coulsons-left-arm]

Philindaisy when they're tired (bc I'm tired 🫠)

Coulson: I'd imagine it doesn't take much to get mans to rest. He squeezes his eyes shut and punches the bridge of his nose as he's elbow deep in boring paperwork. He considers leaving what he has for tomorrow to rest... Sometimes he does, other times... May will find him still at his desk in the wee hours of the morning, gives him one encouraging look (it's more a glare than anything 🤭), and he heads to his bunk, immediately falling asleep and sawing logs in true dad fashion.

May: May is like a superhero herself. She's never tired. Always prepared, and always has a backup plan for either extra green tea, extra stretches, or small cat naps she knows she can get away with.... But on the very extremely rare occasion she is tired, she fights it like the badass that she is. She starts nodding off, but jolts awake, almost snarling at herself for even thinking about caving to the want. If situationally possible, she'll get up and move around a bit to get her blood flowing and heart rate up. Coulson comes by, notices the very rare signs that her body is screaming for rest and has to plead with her. "May, come on. Go to bed." It doesn't work, and only earns him a nasty look (he isn't too hurt. She gets a little moody when she's like this). He closes the distance, his hand grabbing her hand. "Melinda. Please." He gives her the biggest, saddest, blue-est puppy dog eyes he can muster, knowing her stubbornness will faulter... And it eventually works, but only because he looks, "pathetic. You need to stop." He chuckles and pulls her to her feet, pulling her towards her bunk where he opens her door, gently nudges her inside, and quips, "Not a chance," with a wink and shuts her door, forcing her to cave to what her body so desperately needs.

Daisy: She's an amalgamation of her parents Coulson and May. Sometimes they find her face down on the table, laptop/paperwork in front of her abandoned as she's drooling dangerously close to it. If it's Coulson, he gently nudges her and gathers her form in his arms, carrying her to the nearest couch so she doesn't mess up her neck and back any more than she needs to, and pilfers a blanket from somewhere for her. If May finds her, she gently wakes her and helps guide her (at a sleepy head's pace) to her bunk for some proper sleep. But! If Daisy is being stubborn, too caught up in work and feeling like she's on a deadline, she jolts awake just like her mom May, snapping to attention, bleary-eyed, but awake and ready to try and work. Coulson simply does the same thing because mother like daughter, gently begging this kid to go to bed. Daisy will huff about it (and sometimes get a little teary eyed if it's something that's very pressing), but a tug on her arm will get her to go to bed... But not before glancing back at her workspace, wondering if she's doing the right thing going to bed. "You're no use if you're tired because you can't think straight. Just get some shut eye for a bit." On the other hand, Daisy's stubbornness NEVER stands a chance when May comes in. One look is all it takes, and Daisy completely deflates. Once her student is on her way to bed, she eases up on her, gives her some sort of praise/encouragement for something she's done lately. It helps Daisy's posture come back a little bit.

[independent-fics]

Eliot: Hey, you know what, man? I've been around little kids all day. I don't need to come home and do all this crap.

Hardison: Hey, man, with all that? I've been in this pink shirt and these tight plaid pants, these old webster loafers, this girl is walking on my back. I don't need this, man.

[satoblue]

satoru would forget his lunch on purpose just so you his wife could come all the way over to the school and drop it off for him where he then continues to show you around (you’ve already seen the place a hundred times) but he does it as an excuse to keep you busy and spend time with you so you don’t leave just yet

[stebbinsgreyhoundfursuit]

Shout out that one ship that I was immediately anamored with & became OTP like that only for it contuilly break me evretime i thought of them & then I very disappointedly learned I am the only being on the entire mother earth to even dare conceive them as notion, so now everyday I debate learning to write solely to fill a gaping hole of my own creation with poorly written fanfiction ...

what that ship is, I WILL NEVER TELL!!!!!!!

...................

....it's Baker & Garraty ,

........They have made ILL like no other

........and I wish to make their name SunRay

...... in honor of garratys (sus af)fixation on how the sunlight & shadows reflect of baker face And like sunrays While the warmth, they feel from each other is real Rays idealized perception of the light Art fully represents is not..

....Alternate BETTER shipname: Mortuary Sink/Sluice aka Mourge Toilet 😏🙏💥

........ I can't stop myself & neither can you 😟

[violetmuses]

Let's do this! 📣 🖤🩸

@episodes-ff @persethegawd @adriennegabriella @mytribalnightmare @secretlifeoofmarpessa @blackgurlnhermoods @adoresmiles @blackgurlnhermoods @dabratzchronicles @luvrsluxe @mselenalovebug @lyricailove 💥

[jabberwockymoreau]

Call me Kevin Day I'm immediately in an inpeccable and unprecedented mood the moment the Trojans show up in TKM

[sodapopcurtis-dx-asks]

You should cuddle, *drops a hundred for each*

Soda raises an eyebrow at the message, kind of confused.

Who should cuddle? Me and my brothers? (To bring up the last message I just answered...)

Because if so, I'm happy to do so! I love my brothers!

Although, uh, unfortunately I am at work. So. Y'know.

But I'll be sure to send your hugs their way! And say it's from them! :)

[flamestar126]

Would a kiss suffice?

[sketchy-tour]

scuttles in

Dandy is precious and I feel like they would be friends with Gloom

Scuttles away

I AGREE I THINK THEY SHOULD BE FRIENDS!!!!

Gloom beloved @theknifeclown