#after I fell asleep

[jtl-fics]

If you do happen to decide to do wip Wednesday, Andrew first with Neil and Andrew being domestic please 🙏

WIP Wednesday (7/19/23) - Closed | Andrew First AU

Aaron comes home and is treated to the familiar sight of the half-dead guy his brother had dragged home dead asleep on the couch.

Neil sleeping on the couch was not anything to write home about considering that 5 times out of 10 Aaron would find the other teen sleeping there.

At least 3 of those 5 would involve finding Neil like this.

His face smashed against Andrew’s shoulder, Andrew leaning his chin resting against Neil's head, their legs endlessly tangled, and Andrew stroking Neil's back.

Andrew looks up at his entry into the living room but only to acknowledge that he knows that Aaron is there before his gaze falls back to whatever book he’s trying to read with only one hand.

“Is there a reason Josten is only awake for a couple hours a day?” Aaron finally decides to ask.

He doesn’t mind that Neil is sleeping, Neil doesn’t give a shit about any noise around him and has proven that with the many times Nicky had blasted music in the house and for Neil not to stir.

“Keep your voice down.” Andrew hisses his free hand moving down from Neil’s hair to the ear that isn’t pressed against Andrew’s chest. His eyes briefly snapping to Aaron to glare before snapping back down to Neil’s sleeping face as if searching for any hint of Neil waking up.

The problem is that Andrew treats Neil sleeping as if Neil will wake up at the sound of a mouse farting three houses away.

“He didn’t wake up when Nicky was playing Mariah Carey at full blast for an hour before you got back from wherever you were Saturday and made Nicky turn it off. You and I talking at a normal volume is not going to be the thing that wakes up Josten.” He rolls his eyes. “So explain it to me, why is he always sleeping?” He points at the teen in question.

Andrew scowls at him for a full minute but kept his hand over Neil’s ear as he answered, “He has a sleep debt and he’s recovering from…” Andrew trails off, “…a lot.” He decides.

“Is he sick?” Aaron asks worried that Neil needed more help than Andrew’s, frankly, obsessive doting and caretaking. Aaron reaches out before he can think about it to touch Neil’s forehead.

Andrew’s hand caught his wrist before he could get close. “Don’t touch him. He’ll wake up if you touch him.” Andrew says voice sharp despite whispering. “He’s not sick, he needs time to recover from everything that was going on before I found him. You and Nicky saw him after almost a week of him resting.” he hisses.

[satoruhour]

sliding down a wall in agony over gojo and his undercut rn.... wanna run my hands across it and then pull on his hair while he's eating pussy i'm SOO NORMAL OMG

a/n: OH MY GOD ! peep i have a fluffy drabble of it here muahahaha

warnings: fem!reader, making out, fingering, oral (f! receiving), clit stimulation, implied multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut

gojo sighs when you meet his lips after a long day. he hasn’t even gotten past the genkan when you’re already leaning forward to engulf him in your love. without effort, he removes his shoes while wrapping his arms around you. no words are exchanged; you know it’s been a long day for satoru from the way his shoulders sag and he doesn’t greet you with the happiest of tones.

he silently walks you into your shared home, humming into your lips as his initial stress and frustration subsides into love and he brings your arms around his neck. he uses his tongue to nudge your lips and you willingly open your mouth, letting him play with your tongue as the kiss turns sloppy.

you let him have his way, hands feeling all up your body as he mutters something equivalent to jump and you pull away briefly to admire his swollen glossy lips and his tousled hair. you hop into his arms and moan softly at the hands on your ass, fingers knowing where to go even though you were so damn engrossed in locking lips with him.

they tug off his blindfold and his hair comes tumbling down, fingertips digging into the back of his head. they’re as short as always, prickly strands that feel oddly blunt from how much you run your hand over it everyday. from there, your hand massages the back of his head and it quells his headache briefly. gojo sighs and releases your lips with a soft ‘pop’, kissing down your neck as you continue to glide your hand over the fuzzy hairs and back up. with a soft tug on his strands, his mouth drops in a silenced gasp.

“oh yeah . . feel good?” you whisper, so fragile with gojo’s love that if you speak even a decibel above that you fear you might break the tension. gojo nods, going back to sucking on your neck while you play with his hair, but his way of distressing involves stripping you down, too—

with hushed praises against your physique, satoru pecks his way down your body, giving attention to all your sensitive areas before coming right down to your cunt. there’s already a wet patch that is soaked through the fabric, and for the first time that night, your lover speaks.

“so pretty f’r me, always . .” it’s a little raspy from the lack of use, but you know he’s about to go back into wordless groans by the way he peels away your underwear and sighs at your wetness. gojo licks off your arousal from your panties with a small grin, a glint in his eyes that suggests he can’t let a drop go to waste.

the fabric is across the room by then and your legs trapped in his upper arms, tongue drawing out the sweetest moans from you as he gives your clit teasing kitten licks.

“baby— b-baby . . satoru—” all he does is flit his eyes to you, deep blues staring you down below his stark white lashes and he holds it. even as you squirm around on the couch and dig your heels into his back, he doesn’t waver. he then gathers some saliva and spits onto your pussy, rubbing it in with a whimper — it’s all he can do when you continue to leak arousal.

“s’good, your tongue’s so— f-fuck!” more and more and more, you drip onto the sofa that again, he takes his curious tongue and licks it right up from your asshole and collects every drop of your nectar. he slurps it all up before he starts his merciless assault.

gojo gets all in there, eating you out like a starved man and slobbering over your cunt, flicking and sucking at your clit over and over to the point where you don’t know where you are. the grasping hands on the sofa does nothing, so you settle instead for his hair. they feel much much different now, the short hairs of his undercut feeling sharp and vivid through your fingertips because of how sensitive your body was. his eyes flutter close, upper body pushed into your pelvis so eagerly.

your hands stall for a bit when you notice satoru is grinding down onto the sofa — your pussy tastes so good it has gojo satoru humping whatever for some relief — but your focus is back again when he prods at your hole with a finger. with one swift push, he inserts it and the wandering hands all over his undercut moves up to pull.

gojo moans into your cunt at the intoxicating and burning feeling on his scalp, finger pumping faster in you that it has you closing your thighs around him. he’s too drunk on your pussy to care that he’s coming up short of breath, letting you ride his tongue. your fingers card through his hair, tugging, releasing, tugging, it’s an endless cycle that drags him into your cunt over and over.

“close— c— g-god!” you moan out loud, head thrown back and vision turning white once he plunges his second finger into your cunt and you clamp down on him so tightly that gojo has trouble pistoning them into you. there’s a mantra of his name on your lips as you pull the harshest you’ve ever done to his hair, the other gripping the back of the couch. you grind your hips into his relentless mouth, hearing yourself drip down his chin as you cum all over his face.

“pretty, pretty pussy . . mmhm . .” satoru mumbles, fixated on how his fingers disappear in you, “can you give me another, darling?” his lids are hooded and he’s sleepy and it’s clear he isn’t talking to you. when he starts to pump his fingers again, the lewd sclick! that sounds out makes him lick his lips, “thaat’s the answer i want . .”

[critter-covenant]

Class is in session!

Idea inspired from this that I've been meaning to draw for the past few days

[shitouttabuck]

this could be the year for the real thing

buck/eddie | 1.7k | 7x06 coda(ish)

Eddie can count on one hand the number of times he’s been this horrifically hungover. His pre-teenage-pregnancy body bounced back blessedly quickly from tailgate parties and keg stands and beer pong tournaments, but after that? His cousins threw his bachelor party before he married Shannon, which involved a lot of mixed liquor, and then there were a couple miserable nights out after she left him, and now, last night, him and Buck the sole bachelor party members standing after Chim didn’t show up.

This is his worst hangover, because at least all the other times he wasn’t seized with worry about one of his closest friends and regret that he and Buck hadn’t noticed the empty hotel bed the night before. The nausea from hell doesn’t help, either.

Chim’s safe now, under the careful monitor of Cedars hospital staff and Maddie no more than three feet away from him at all times. The relief is a palpable thing, and Buck offering him a steaming paper cup of green tea soothes the churning in his gut a little bit, too.

He takes a sip and sighs gratefully, slumping against Buck in the hospital waiting room chairs when he takes the seat beside Eddie.

“Still queasy?” Buck asks, voice a rumble.

“Mm,” Eddie says, “back-to-back shots of tequila and sambuca are not it.”

Buck shudders beside him. “Don’t,” he begs, closing his eyes and tipping his head back. “I’m still very much in range of hurling.”

“Have you eaten anything today?” Eddie’d only managed half a banana when he went home to shower and change, but he knows Buck’s been with Maddie most of the day, and when it comes to taking care of other people, he sometimes forgets about himself.

“Had a granola bar,” Buck says, eyes still closed. “Can’t—don’t wanna think about food yet.”

His stomach chooses then to grumble audibly, with traitorously comedic timing, and Eddie snorts. Buck opens one eye to grin at him.

“Don’t listen to her,” he says, patting his belly. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“She doesn’t, huh? Then I guess she’s not interested in stopping by the juice bar on Sunset on the way home? Some sweet, sweet smoothies, all that fresh fruit and hydration, don’t even have to chew…”

Buck’s stomach rumbles interestedly and they both laugh.

“That sounds—so good, actually,” Buck admits. “We can pick up the peanut butter one for Chris, he’s always hankering—”

He breaks off as Hen appears at the end of the hallway, looking around and hurrying over as soon as she spots them. Eddie doesn’t think anything’s wrong—she’s beaming—but he and Buck sit up quickly in their seats anyway.

“Ugh,” Buck says, and Eddie’s dizziness at the sudden movement wholeheartedly agrees.

“We’re having a motherfucking wedding,” Hen grins, tugging them both to their feet, uncaring of their delicate dispositions. “Right here, right now.”

“Hospital wedding?” Buck asks, eyes wide. “Holy shit, okay, what do we need—who do we call—fuck—”

“Calm down, Buckaroo,” Hen smiles. “Just get friends and family over here, Karen’s gonna pick up Maddie’s dress, I’m gonna call Bobby, and we’re having a wedding.”

Buck’s already pulling up a copy of the guest list on his phone, squinting at it and muttering names under his breath.

“You boys got this?” Hen asks while dialling Bobby.

“Yep,” Eddie gives her a mock salute. “We’ll split the list and make some calls.”

He types out half the names Buck reads off to him in his notes app, and the two of them work through them methodically, calling Chim and Maddie’s nearest and dearest for this impromptu ceremony.

“Chris will kill us if he misses it,” he says suddenly, and Buck looks up at him, mid-text.

“He’s with Isabel, right? Pepa’s place is only a ten minute drive from here.”

Eddie nods. “I don’t have my car, though. You drove me.”

Buck tosses him the Jeep keys. “I’ll finish calling people, you go get them.”

“Cool,” Eddie says, and nearly bodies himself with the instinctive urge to lean over and kiss Buck on the cheek as he stands. It’s surprising, even though it shouldn’t be, because it’s an urge he fought and failed about thirty times last night, Buck’s sweaty skin pressed to his, salty under his mouth every time he dropped an innocuous, friendly kiss to his face with nothing but alcohol in his veins.

It hadn’t seemed out of place then, everything shiny and bright, Buck leaning right back into him.

Now, under the fluorescents of the hospital, organising a makeshift wedding for their family? Eddie doesn’t think it would land quite the same.

“Back in twenty,” he tells Buck instead, and has to physically tear himself away from the smile Buck turns his way, warm and golden under the harsh lights.

Chris and Abuela are delighted to be included, and, true to his word, they’re back at the hospital as the rest of the guests begin arriving, too.

Eddie’s—okay, he’s not going to say he’s not a crier, it’s just that his best friend is Buck, who cries at anything remotely tearjerky, so in comparison, Eddie’s not a crier. Now, though, they’re both very much damp-cheeked, much like everyone else crowded into this hospital room, watching Maddie and Chim exchange rings and vows with little Jee between them.

They’re a family, have been and would still be even if they never got hitched, but the fact that Chim refused to wait another few weeks, another few days, another minute before marrying Maddie? Eddie’s chest aches in the best way, and he slings an arm around Chris, and, before he knows he’s doing it, he looks for Buck.

The ceremony’s over, and Buck’s grinning at his phone, and Eddie pats for his own automatically, anticipating a goofy text.

But Buck’s edging backward, slipping out of the room, still grinning at his phone, and the ache inside Eddie spreads like an inkstain, blotting his insides.

And then Buck reappears with Tommy, which Eddie knew he was going to do, because who else would have Buck smiling at his phone like that, leaving his sister’s wedding even for a minute. Not me, Eddie doesn’t think. He doesn’t.

He’s not ready to make sense of the churning inside him—he doesn’t think he can blame the hangover for this one—when he clocks Tommy’s soot-stained everything and the way Buck’s own smudgy face matches like a puzzle piece.

He sees the way Chim notices, and Hen and Karen, Bobby’s eyes going wide and then soft. He sees the way Margaret Buckley doesn’t even attempt to school her face into anything but distaste and he hates her, but Buck’s not even looking at her. He’s looking at Bobby, and then he’s looking at Chim, and he’s smiling, this wide, guileless spread of happiness across his face.

Eddie’s helpless to smile too, the churning too complicated to parse beyond easy joy at every step of Buck’s sexuality journey, and this second-hand relief he’s not sure he’s got any entitlement to—he doesn’t, does he? Sure, he can be relieved that Buck doesn’t feel like he has to stay closeted, that everyone who matters loves him just the same, but he doesn’t get to feel like any of the relief belongs to him. Not now.

Not—yet.

Tommy’s made his way to Chim’s bedside to congratulate them properly, and Buck’s squeezing through the guests to get to the Diazes.

“Hey, bud,” he says to Chris. “Hi, Isabel.”

His face is still a smear of soot, and Chris giggles. “Buck. Your face.”

Buck frowns in confusion and Eddie steps over to him, hand already reaching to wipe the soot off his face, just like he has a hundred times at work. Except Tommy’s already there, licking his thumb and rubbing firmly at Buck’s chin, a gesture so familiar to Eddie that watching it happen separate from him feels like getting punched in the throat.

And beside the joy and the second-hand relief, there’s—this sense of profound loss. This emptiness, a space inside him he didn’t realise Buck had been occupying all this time. And now it’s like Eddie’s entered the room, finally, but the door is swinging shut on the far wall and Buck’s footsteps are echoing softer and softer as he leaves. Eddie’s late, he’s missed something he didn’t know was waiting, much less had a timeline on it.

The room empties out slowly, everyone giving the Buckley-Hans some space to rest, and Buck disappears down the hall hand-in-hand with Tommy.

“Y’all ready to go home?” Eddie asks Abuela and Chris. “We can get take-out.”

“Is Buck coming?” Chris asks.

“Uh, I don’t think so, mijo,” Eddie glances down the hall. “Although—” he pats his pocket, retrieving the Jeep keys, and startles when Buck appears by his shoulder.

“You have my keys,” he informs Eddie, stretching his hand out for them. Eddie drops them in his palm dutifully. “Juice bar? The fancy one on Sunset.”

Chris whoops excitedly, and Eddie smiles, even as his brow furrows.

“You’ve not got a hot date?” he asks Buck quietly as they walk to the exit.

“I drove you,” Buck shrugs.

Eddie rolls his eyes, stopping Buck with a hand at his elbow. “I think we can manage getting a cab.”

“I seem to recall you promising me a ‘sweet, sweet smoothie,’” Buck says, raising an eyebrow at Eddie. “You tryna stiff me, Eds?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Eddie lifts his hands in surrender. “Uh—do you wanna ask Tommy along?”

“Nah,” Buck says easily. “Maybe another time. He’s just gotten off shift. I’m seeing him tomorrow, anyway.”

“Okay,” Eddie nods slowly, ache bittersweet. “Just us, then.”

Buck beams. “Me and my boys,” he crows, wrapping an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and tugging him forward so he can wrap the other one around Chris. Isabel makes a noise of offense, and Buck hastily amends, “Me and my boys and Abuela. Dream team!”

Christopher groans at the very public embarrassment and Abuela smiles indulgently at Buck and Eddie lets himself get pulled along, safe in this room in his heart that won’t ever be empty, even if Buck’s not filling it in the same capacity as Eddie’s getting ready to allow himself to want.

It doesn’t matter. The door on the far wall’s not quite swung shut after all; it sits ajar, crack of light and Buck’s love spilling through. Maybe one day he’ll come back through it. Maybe one day Eddie’ll follow after him enough to ask.

[kaitowotd]

Kaito's Word of the Day: Water

KAITO WATER LETS GOOOOOOOOOO

[bixiaoshi]

“Akira... why am i the only one talking?”

[sollucets]

episode one: the sun and the earth

[soars22]

Missa stirred from his sleep slowly. He wasn’t sure what had woken him up, exactly, but the world felt… strange. The air hung flat and oddly empty in his ears. He didn’t like it.

He blinked and opened his eyes. He was in Rose’s sanctuary. He grinned softly; he hadn’t thought to ever see it again. Phil must have dragged him here in his sleep, as he had so many times before. Missa turned to the side to greet him and stopped short, his blood going cold.

Philza was dead.

Or, not quite dead, exactly, but very close to it. He was barely breathing and his skin, when Missa reaches out to feel his pulse, is cold. “No,” Missa breathes. “Chayanne?” He calls out desperately, turning to the bed where his son lays. There’s no movement, but that doesn’t mean anything. Chayanne’s a deep sleeper, he’s always been that way, it doesn’t mean-

It can’t mean-

“Chayanne,” he hisses, shaking the egg. “Chayanne, por favor, please-“

There’s no response. Frantic now, Missa scrambles over to his daughter. “Talullah, mi hija, wake up, get up! Talullah! Wake up!!”

“I don’t think they can,” a voice says quietly behind him. Missa whirls around to see the shimmering image of a woman with long dark hair watching him. “But-why?” The woman shrugs. “I don’t know. I can barely reach them, even here where I’m strongest.”

Missa blinks. “So… so they’re-dead?” The woman regards him sadly. “Yes. You need to let this happen, Missa. It’s the only way to reach them.”

“What do you mean? Reach them?” The woman cocks an eyebrow at him. “You are a reaper, aren’t you? Surely you understand how this works. I’m limited in my power here, but with you…”

Missa’s eyes widen. “Oh. Oh. Yes, yes, I understand.” He hesitates. “It’s… it’s been a while, since I’ve…” The woman smiles. “Yes. That’s why I’m here, to help you. I’m Rose.”

“Ooh…. So you’re Rose? Phil’s told me about you.” Rose laughs. “So I’ve heard. I’ll have to tease him later.” She holds out a transparent hand. “Shall we?”

Later-much later-Phil blinks open his eyes. He feels light, weightless, and the aches that have wracked his body have eased. He sits up and shakes a few stray leaves from his hair. “Chayanne?” He asks and coughs to clear his throat. “Lullah?”

“They’re here,” Missa’s voice sounds from behind him. “They’re just resting with Rose.” Phil turns to stare at Missa. “With Rose? She’s here?” Missa nods. “They’re just waiting on you.”

“Waiting on me for what?” Phil asks as he lets Missa pull him to his feet. “To move on,” Missa replies.

“To-oh,” Phil says quietly. “So… so we’re not waking up, then.” Missa shakes his head. “Not here; not exactly. Rose says she’s got bodies prepared for you somewhere else. I’m just here to lead your souls.”

Phil frowns. “Lead our souls… back to my old world, I imagine, or something like it. And you’ll go with us, right?” Missa stares at him. “I will?” Phil rolls his eyes. “Yes, dumbass. You’re part of our family now, you aren’t leaving. You don’t have a choice.”

“Oh. Uh-“

“Just shut up and let it happen, Missa,” Phil laughs. “You aren’t letting go of us that easy. I’m not about to let my Missa be homeless again.” Missa’s eyes are wide as he mouths the phrase ‘my Missa.’

Phil tugs on Missa’s hand and starts leading him down to the distant shapes of Rose, Lullah, and Chayanne. “Come on; let’s go home. We’ll have time to talk about it later.”

Home. It sounds nice; Missa’s never had one before, at least not one he remembers. He can’t wait to finally build one with the people he loves.

[nullapophenia]

Kissing Lucifer

{You're okay, you're alive, you-- You're so happy you could just-- Sif--!}

{Sif pushes you away}

[httpiastri]

sweethearts <3

[ronnabyte]

garmadon devouring his son ,HAPYP BIRTHDAY @dynamo-roll3r!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[spamgyu]

THE MATHEW KIM STORY WE NEED IT I NEED IT LIKE THE AIR I BREATH

ALRIGHT LETS TALK ABOUT MATTHEW KIM

THE MAN THAT STARTED THE WHOLE college!ot13 ROT

Matthew Kim.... UCLA student majoring in Math&Stats..... the menace from ktown la....

Him and Eric Xu are actually the worst duo to ever exist....

But don't let his gym bro/party boy lifestyle fool u... this man is actually so fucking smart... which is why he can afford to slack off... like wym i studied for 10 hours for our open book final and you showed up... with an index card AND PENCIL??? AND HUNGOVER??? AND ACED IT???

He is so fine and he knows it... got a whole roster of girls who just want "ONE CHANCE PLS"

Matthew Kim who is so brother's best friend coded.

Matthew Kim who has had the biggest crush on you ( Jacob's sister ) since you guys were in high school.

Matthew Kim who knows he doesn't stand a chance with you but LOVES flirting with you.

Texting you randomly like "Your honor can I change my name to contempt so you can hold me"

LIKE ??? bro fuck out of here!!! but okay 🤭🤭

Matthew Kim who goes to the Melrose Trading Post/Rosebowl Flea Market/Farmers Market knowing girls are looking at him.......

Matthew Kim who will be the death of you bc pls stop flirting with me I will actually fall for u

[pollyna]

When it happens, Mav is old enough that Bradley stopped calling him an old timer because he's now one, too. He's old enough to have been a widower for too many years, a father once again, and a granpa. He isn't thinking about anything in particular when he lays down for his afternoon nap, if not that the blanket smells particularly like Tom today, and he can't stop from nuzzling against the material for a little longer. Sleep comes candidly as the feelings of a pair of strong arms picking him up from the couch and hugging him against his chest, a kiss on his forehead, and "Hey, sweetheart. You did feel asleep on the couch again. Love you, Pete," with the sound of all his friends laughing coming from the kitchen. He can pick Goose and Carole's in the middle of Slider and Wood's. Pete smiles, sleepy, "afternoon naps are the worst, and I'm weak. Love you too, Tom." He answers before letting the warmth of his husband lull him to sleep.

[anna-naray]

I wasn't able to make a high quality gif for this drawing, but the result is still pretty cute! :3

Ang-Li is now grew up, but he remained the same nerdy little angel, glutton for Angelic Peppers and Raf's air puddings heheh

[ink-the-artist]

some clone high ocs bc I am cringe but I am free. and bc im excited for the upcoming reboot :)

just the line art:

[omgserafinablog]

*Valentin teaches his children discipline and forces them to study many sciences and foreign languages and severely punishes for failures*

Valentin himself skipped classes in his youth, did not do his homework (I bet Hodge wrote all his essays for him) and believed that the academy was a waste of time. Cassie wrote somewhere that Valentine's father was a harsh man, but the way Valentine treated his studies, he did not come to class… Logically, his father would not tolerate such behavior (I think Valentin himself would definitely punish his children for such a frivolous attitude to learning) . But Oscar didn't seem to care how his son studied.