#good to know she's doing perfectly fine

[gonethroughthevhstapes]

Was going to say my worst fear would be finding out one of my mutuals was that one woman who fucked me up, but I found her Tumblr...

[bunnieswithknives]

I feel bad for neglecting Hazel so much, I do have many thoughts about her.. and also a mermaid au that im probably not going to do anything with

[daily-whistlebreeze]

daily whistlebreeze until ap becomes PoV day 1586

When I say Apple and Flutter aren't The Best parents, I mean it. I do fully intend for them to fuck up raising Stretch and Rustle

[dkettchen]

oh also in other news, I had my revision top surgery today and it went well!!

I keep fucking having to remember like omg right I had surgery today bc it was such a tiny revision so it's like the babiest surgery I've had to date compared to its "I can't straighten my spine" and "I can't fucking breathe" predecessors 😅

[imblocking-you]

AINT NO WAY THEYRE SHIPPING QUILL WITH NEBULA

[suppenzeit]

the best part about being both a dragon age fan and a starlight express fan is that i can look at cullen like I Know What You Are.... (a steam train)

[rainstarqueenbow]

Vil: *is Vil about things*

Yuu(twst/khr one): Well I’m sorry Vil idk what to tell ya; in the Likely scenario that I grow up Not immortal and completely-untouched-by-the-hands-of-time, I would like my body to look lived in.

Yuu: I realize that you Do Not want that for yourself, in which case, Okay! Worry about those things. Sure!

Yuu: like, i mean, you’re still gonna have to pick whether you want to age as gracefully as you can or end up a Botox monster in your 60s, but That is going to be a You choice.

Yuu: I want to still have all, or at least most, of my teeth in my 60s; a face that shows a hopefully joyful life, and for my body to be well-kept and healthy.

Yuu: which is why I join you for yoga sometimes, and generally work out my health things with Coach Vargas.

Vil:

[tojishousewife]

Bouncing on Toji’s cock even while he’s overstimulated <3 ddlg reader

His head’s tilted back, hairline freshly damp with sweat, his chest heaving with every deep breath as he grips the arms of the chair hard enough to splinter the wood. He already came. Gosh, he already came—stuffed you so full the first time you felt it spill out before you even stopped grinding.

And yet, here you are. Still bouncing on his poor cock. All messy and filthy and giggling softly with your hands braced on his broad shoulders, your thighs trembling but still determined as you use his cock like your own little toy because fuck it feels so good stuffing you up.

“Darling” he groans, voice hoarse and edged with warning. His fingers twitch, aching to hold your hips still, but he doesn't—he can’t.

Not when his sweet girl is looking down at him all bright-eyed and pouty like that, acting like it's his fault for being so big, so deep, such a perfect fit for your cunt that he carved out perfectly after months and months of sex—just for him. His plump tip is twitching and leaky as it punches your g-spot over and over.

“You said you were done,” you murmur through a sugary whine, lips brushing the corner of his jaw as you bounce again—a little slower this time like you're savoring it. “So why's your cock still hard, huh?”

He swears under his breath, eyes fluttering shut as his hips jerk up without his permission. “You don't know what you're doing” he rasps, his jaw tight as he looks at you with half-lidded eyes. “I'm too fucking old for this shit—‘m sensitive, baby, fuck—“

But your little giggle is wicked now, dragging your fingers down his big sweaty, chest, tracing the muscles that flex under your touch like you're testing just how far you can push him. “Then why does it keep twitching inside my cunnie?” you whisper sweetly. “Feels like it wants to cum again”.

Toji growls, real deep in his throat, bucking up into you with a desperate snap of his hips that makes you gasp. You weren't ready for that one—not so deep, not so mean—it caught you off guard. You stutter a breath, hands scrambling for his chest again as he grabs your hips hard, holding you still forcefully.

“You're gonna fucking break me,” he mutters through clenched teeth, watching the way your pretty mouth falls open, eyes wide as he holds you there, impaled on his fat throbbing cock, stuffed full of the last load still leaking around the base.

You roll your hips in tight circles, whining pathetically. “Daddy…it's leaking out”

“Yeah? That what you wanted?” he pants, fucking up into you deep and slow— dragging his cock against the swollen mess inside your cunt, making sure to stuff his cock all the way to the hilt so your pube hairs grind against each other’s “Greedy fucking baby, so full and still not satisfied”.

Your legs are shaking, and your voice cracks when you try to sass him back, but it's nothing but a breathy moan. “Wanna... wanna feel you again,” you whisper. “Need it, daddy—need you to fill me again, even if it hurts!”

He snarls something feral under his breath, hands gripping your thighs to bounce you harder now with his sheer strength, ignoring his own overstimulation just to ruin you. “Fuckfuckfuuuck, You're gonna be the death—hah!—of me, kiddo,” he moans. “But if you want it so bad—fine. I'll fucking give it to you”.

And he does.

Even if his legs are cramping and he's seeing stars from how sensitive he is. Even if he cums again with a strangled grunt, filling you a second time while your nails rake down his chest and you sob into his neck, overwhelmed and stuffed to the brim.

Because you wanted it.

And he always gives his baby what she wants.

[ducktollers]

the way ppl in comment sections talk abt kem makes me feel like im literally losing my mind. never experienced a bigger ‘did we even watch the same show’ moment in my life

[snail-day]

Okay. Breathe, Satoru. You can do this. It's just a sleepover. Just your girlfriend. Just the person you're absolutely, irrevocably obsessed with. Who you're trying really, really hard not to scare off.

Standing in your apartment, hands shoved deep in his pockets to keep from touching everything. You’re flitting around, casual, relaxed, while he’s trying to memorize the shape of your furniture, the smell of your space, the way you hum when you walk into the kitchen.

Satoru's baby-blues locking onto the bathroom door. “I’ll, uh... shower first, if that’s okay?” like it’s the most neutral, chill request ever. It’s not. He’s sweating. His ears are pink. You nod like it’s no big deal - of course it’s no big deal - but to him? It’s a very big deal.

He gently closes the bathroom door behind him. Worries if he makes too much of a sound, he will be banned from your fine establishment. Your things are everywhere. Shampoo bottles, conditioner, your razor, a little candle half-burned on the sink, your loofah hanging from the shower knob, the loofah. He stares at it for too long.

Are we at the loofah-sharing stage? Satoru wonders, frozen in place. It’s pink. Fluffy. It looks soft, and it’s yours, and he’s fighting every stupid urge in his body. “Don’t be weird,” muttering aloud, as if he can command himself into normalcy. Still, his fingers twitch. He holds it. Briefly. Gently. Just for a second. Just to say he did.

Then comes the body wash. He squirts out the tiniest amount and rubs it between his hands like it’s precious perfume. The scent hits him and he nearly slides down the wall. You smell like this. You smell like this all the time. How is he supposed to survive? Because now he smells like you.

Pressing his face into the steam and pretends it’s your neck. He’s sick. Maybe a little pathetic. He knows it. But he’s also just so in love. What can a guy do?

When he steps out, face flushed and hair damp, he feels like a teenage boy at his crush’s house for the first time - which, in his mind, he kinda is. You’re waiting for him in pajamas, makeup wiped off, looking soft and sleepy and so perfectly you. He thinks he might pass out.

And then… brushing teeth together. Should be simple. Should be normal. But nothing is normal around you. He’s beside you at the sink, trying to play it cool while your shoulder brushes his. You hum to yourself while brushing, glancing at him through the mirror, and he nearly foams at the mouth. Or maybe that’s the toothpaste. He’s not sure.

Then he sees it.

A little blob of foam at the corner of your lips.

Something happens to him. Something dark and unspeakable. He wants to kiss it away. He wants to lick it off your mouth like a psychopath. He stares. Blinks. Shakes his head like a wet dog. Absolutely not. No. Stop it.

What’s wrong with you, scolding himself. She’s just brushing her teeth. Like a person. A very pretty, perfect person.

He spits. Rinses. Avoids eye contact. Looks at the drain. Looks at your spit down the drain. Another weird thought. One that must be suppressed.

And then it’s time. Bedtime. Final boss.

Your bed is small. Cozy. Absolutely infested with plushies. He pretends to be annoyed but he secretly loves them. Even if they are plotting to kick him off the edge of the mattress. He climbs in carefully, unsure which plush is your favorite. Unsure what you'd do if he accidentally knocked one little guy off the floor. The blanket smells like your laundry. Like home. Like the future he wants with you.

You’re already under the covers, blinking at him sleepily, smile soft and content. Wearing his shirt and not much else. The fabric rides up your thighs and he has to look away before his brain fully melts. He deserves a prize for not making a move. Deciding to lay on his back, stiff, hands folded like he’s in a coffin. He doesn’t touch you. Not even a pinky. Be good, chanting to himself. Be good. You like her. You love her. You’re not a perv, you’re not a perv.

You shift closer.

A leg brushes his. A sigh escapes your lips. Your hand settles gently on his stomach like it belongs there.

He almost cries, something between a half whimper and a wheeze leaves his throat.

Slowly, carefully, he slides his arm around your waist. You don’t flinch. Don’t pull away. You lean into him.

He swears he hears wedding bells.

You fall asleep just like that, face nestled against his shoulder, breath even and slow. And he lies there, heart racing, brain fried, blinking up at the ceiling, Satoru would be getting no sleep tonight.

His thoughts are a mess: She’s so pretty. Is she really mine? What if I kissed her forehead? No, too soon. Maybe not. God, her skin is soft. I should move in. Tomorrow. Today. Right now. No, bad. Calm down. Be cool. Be a good boyfriend. Don’t get a boner. You’re cuddling. It’s fine. Just breathe. You’re okay. This is okay. Everything is okay.

He wants to. Touch you, that is. Just your waist. Just a hand on your back. Just to pull you closer and feel your heartbeat against his chest. But he doesn’t. He stays perfectly still. He doesn’t want to push anything. You haven’t done that yet, and he’d rather die than make you uncomfortable.

Except nothing’s okay. Because he’s so in love it physically hurts. Because you’re sleeping peacefully and trusting him with this little moment, and all he wants is to stay like this forever.

How are you sleeping so peacefully while he’s over here thinking about nothing but how perfect yoh are?

[red-dyed-sarumane]

having not played rhythm games for months and then picking up kamicity ensemble ive gotten SO bad at proseka. i was like its so over but im finally down to 5 greats it may possible to ap maximizer ex yet.

[bunnyinvanilla]

imagine soft bunny girl wanting to play a silly little prank on sugar daddy!dilf john price by paying for the check. only an harmless little prank, nothing serious, right?

not for him. as an old fashioned gentleman, he wouldn’t take that well. he’d never let you pay for a single thing, you’re his sugar baby after all (his unconventionally too young girlfriend)

let’s say you’re on a date. restaurant, sweet treat break, anything you’d like, and when you’re done, you stand up in your frilly little skirt, glossed lips, strawberry and vanilla perfume that swirls around him when you lean down to kiss him on the corner of his mouth, right above that mustache you go crazy for.

“be right back sir, lady needs” you use the bathroom excuse, he gruffs out a “aight doll” but instead of heading to the toilet, you secretly go pay. innocent, naive little bunny, you think he’s gonna laugh at that, find it hilarious.

little does he know, you slip to the front and quickly pay the bill, before slipping to the toilet.

but after you actually hop to the bathroom, he stands up. broad shoulders, straight, imposing stance that exudes confidence, pure masculinity that stretches like leather with every step he takes, a cigar that’s not lit yet hanging from his mouth.

he doesn’t say a word, leisurely takes his wallet off the back pocket of his expensive suit jacket and proceeds to hand the card to the waiter, who, cluelessly, just smiles at him,

“the bill has already been paid, sir”

john blinks, once, then twice, maybe his ears are starting to play on him, given his seasoned age. he’s not sure he’s heard that right. so he mutters a rough “ ‘scuse me?”

“yes, the lady who’s here with you paid earlier”

those words feel wrong in his head, unwelcome. he wants to spit them out, but he’s always a man of undeterred and outmost control, composure. only the way his jaw clenches underneath his thick beard, salt and pepper like the mixed thoughts running in his mind, says otherwise.

he doesn’t how how long he remains still like that, buff muscles somehow becoming thicker, building a stonelike wall that prevents the boiling fire within him to flow outside. unmoving, like the endless times spent eyeing the target from afar, waiting like a statue for the perfect moment to bounce on them.

feigned stoicism and broodiness decor his mature face, as he tucks his wallet back inside his pocket with more strength that before — he nods to the waiter, and waits for you outside. when you come back, careless, sugary bunny that hops close to her brown bear, unaware of the way she’s offended his sense of manliness, you grab his hand with both of yours, smiling sweetly, blinking your long lashes. “we can go sir”

“what did you do, doll?” his rough tone should’ve made you halt, but you, sweet soul, think that his usual half, lazy smile is going to appear on his mustache. you shrug, like it’s nothing, really, giggling playfully soft.

“treated you for once,”

he’s gonna find it funny, you thought.

but he doesn’t.

“did i give you permission to do that?”

your smile falters. you blink, bunnies are slow in their movements when they’re processing their surroundings. but then, they haste.

“what? oh, no, but i just wanted to pay for once. it was a j—“

“get in the car, now.”

oh no. you hope you didn’t ruin your date with your little prank. it was supposed to be harmless, just a mere little thing to take him off guard. but—

“it’s fine, you always pay, sir, i thought you’d find it funny that i paid for once” you try to justify yourself, but he doesn’t laugh. his characteristic authority and intimidating nature comes out, a second skin that fits him perfectly.

“i said get in the car, doll, don’t make me repeat myself again, angel”

and when you do arrive home, you don’t even have time to take off your heels. you’ve always been a good girl, obedient, well mannered. you never disobeyed him once.

he never had to punish you for anything.

you squint when he pats his thigh, sitting on the edge of your bed. the rustling of his leather belt being unbuckled. manspreading his legs, he invites you.

”how much did you pay?” his voice could cut on stone, deep, low and husky.

you almost shiver, poor bunny, you keep your eyes down, fidgeting with your hands,

“and don’t lie to me, sweetheart. i can check your account.”

your mumble is almost a mute one as you whisper ”sixty, sir”

his hand looks large, heavy, you knows it’s gonna leave red marks on your butt, as red as your flushing cheeks. ”good. gonna keep count until half of it, come here, princess, thirty spanks, and then you’re gonna be my good girl all over again. understood?”

“but—“

“not mad at you, princess. you’re still my good girl. you didn’t mean to misbehave, daddy knows that. but actions have consequences, angel, even if it was well meant and intentioned, now,”

he patted his thigh again, and you swallowed, docile eyes downturned.

“don’t make me wait, have to put those money back in your account”

[lacyblades]

౨ৎ frat!satoru is using his last bits of will power to not give into you, along with your desperate attempts of convincing him otherwise.

he honestly can't recall the last time something — someone — lovingly came into his life, like you. there's no harm that can come from taking this slow, right? he just really, really likes you, that's all.

the whole dating scene isn't exactly his jam. not that he can't navigate it, but he's just… hesitant. it takes him ages to finally call your hang-out a sort of date, let alone contemplate taking your virginity.

you, on the other hand? you just want to get it over with. the way he talks about it, you'd think it's some kind of advanced physics.

and you've done everything short of cartwheels to get the ball rolling. his level of self-control has to be otherworldly. because here you are, sprawled on his dorm bed in nothing but expensive lingerie — a serious splurge for a broke college student — and he's just strolling right past you.

lips pressed tight, eyes darting anywhere but at you, hands jammed in his pockets, he drops his backpack by his desk with a heavy thump. not a word, not a glance, not even a little compliment. clearly, satoru is hanging on by a thread.

"ugh, come on," you huff, pushing yourself up on the mattress. "nothing?"

he flops onto his beanbag chair, snatching the tv remote. "wanna order takeout, cherry? i'm think craving chinese."

"t— takeout? seriously? i'm practically naked on your bed."

"oh," he hums, suddenly engrossed in the national geographic channel. "are you? didn't even notice."

your eyes, suspiciously, glance to the obvious bulge in his pants. "you didn't notice, but your dick did?"

"she's got a mind of her own," satoru mumbles defensively.

"hm, does she?" he doesn't answer, but his flushed face does. "this cost money, you know. could at least look at it? i bought it for the occasion."

his eyes flicker your way for a split second before snapping back to the screen. "the occasion being?"

"you finally growing a pair and having sex with me."

"it's not about 'having the balls'," he corrects, "it's about patience."

"you're the resident man-whore. what do you know about patience?"

"pfft. i know enough, cherry."

"just look! i'm all hot and practically shirtless. is your dick broken from all your other hoes?"

"no! my dick is perfectly fine. i'm trying to be a good guy here. don't girls like that?"

you throw your hands up, "this girl would like her situation-ship to fuck her already. actually, not even a situation-ship, because there's no situation!"

satoru sighs, finally turning his full attention to you. "you look incredibly sexy. like, really incredibly sexy. but if i look at you for more than thirty seconds, i'm going to cave."

"twenty more seconds, then. you got this."

"cherry."

it's weary, his tone. you frown, crossing your arms. fine. whatever. you're officially throwing in the towel.

"i need to shower," satoru mutters, his gaze dropping to his lap.

you perk up, "can i join?"

"no."

[idontmindifuforgetme]

Humble urself and start w that 30 minutes of recreational reading a day. Go from there. Don’t overwhelm urself w a hefty tbr after a long reading slump

Ask for help. Who cares if it takes a village

Try to get things done in the morning. Then phone

It’s not as hard as you think it is

Be realistic about your limits. You will sacrifice some things in favor of other things. That is okay. Priorities are a revolving door and everything will get its turn

You’re at the beginning of your life. Calm down about doing everything at once

Hour by hour schedules have saved your life. Go back to them

People don’t ask for ur opinion before making decisions. Stop being so fucking concerned w what they think of yours

The truest cliche is sacrificing momentary comfort for long term gains. Sorry

Aim for perfection - don’t expect it off the get go. Perfection is a staircase. You will get there, or at least as close as u can, but you have to start somewhere. One chapter, one workout, one friend you’re consistent texting… then you go from there. Not everything has to be fixed at once

The only guaranteed time is now and what you do with it

Comparison is easily the most useless thing in the world

Green tea at sundown will make u feel better

Switching up your plan—your study plan, your timeline, your anything—is perfectly fine. But don’t use that as an excuse to not stick the landing

Ask if something/someone elevates your life—but ask if you’re also an asset to theirs. Survey others but survey yourself as well. Don’t be too hard on yourself but don’t coddle yourself

Just lock in tbh. Whatever you’re worried about u can take care of later. Choose 3 top things to focus on and own them. Accept other things might take a backseat as a result

Take piano practice as seriously as u do ur stem studies

You can fit a lot in w time management

Taking it one day at a time will save ur life

You can’t change it? Don’t worry about it. Most things are not a damning sentence. Pivot to another opportunity just as if not more lucrative

Intergenerational friendships:)

No shame in trying!!!! And also no one cares that much

Trust the process. It will happen w intention and incremental changes

Sit in the sun and practice thought stopping rituals about it

Embrace not over complicating things. Your therapist is good for u bc she does not indulge ur need to unnecessarily intellectualize/overthink things. She knows its not serving u anything and is just a distraction

[prlssprfctn]

I need more of Jason's and Lois's duo, so here is my humble little scenario — Jason accidentally starts writing articles under her wing after being back from dead.

It starts like this: Bruce kinda announces the rest of the League that the Second Robin is alive, and in fact, Red Hood is him. It is confusing as fuck, but honestly, at this point, everyone is used to Batman's antics, so they just nod along. Clark decides to casually drop the news to Lois, too.

Clark: Do you remember the Second Robin?

Lois, without getting distracted from her work: Oh, of course. Batman asked my autograph for him once. And he mailed me a few of his writing stories once. He was such a talented kid.

Clark: He is alive again!

Lois: Oh.

Lois, pausing and glaring thoughtfully at her computer: ...Do you think he is still into writing?

So, Lois reaches out to Jason, suggesting to try writing again because the Daily Planet needs more talented people, and she can't find anyone normal for months now. And Jason accepts. They end up choosing him a pen name, and it goes just... perfectly. Lois is glad that someone matches her enthusiasm and does the job perfectly, Jason is in awe about working with his second favourite woman alive (after Wonderwoman, of course) and doing the thing he likes.

Jason, irritated as fuck, calling Lois: Hey. I don't know if you have seen the latest president's meeting, but, please, tell me that I can—

Lois: Yeah, son. Drag his ASS. I will deal with the rest.

Jason: Don't tell anyone, but you are my favourite Super.

Lois: Don't tell anyone either, but you are my favourite Bat.

Lois: Now, on a completely unrelated note, do you think Red Hood can assassinate the president—

Naturally, Jason doesn't intend to tell anyone about his new job. No one suspects a thing anyway, and he is working from home, expect for times, when he visits Lois to hang out. Everything is fine.

Until Tim.

Tim, coming for dinner at Kents, by Kon's invitation: Hey, everyone— Jason?

Jason, who is giggling with Lois about their the most hated coworker: Uh. No?

Tim: JASON!

So, Tim knows now. He agrees not to tell anyone, but it doesn't mean that he is not going to tease Jason subtly around others. As usual.

Tim, casually, during the family breakfast: By the way, had you guys read articles in Daily Planet recently? Their new writer is fire.

Jason, tensing up: ...

Bruce: Really? Which one?

Tim, smiling politely: Oh, his name is Peter Austen. His writing style is SO good, and he is always SO on point, I ADORE him.

Jason, half-flustered, half-irritated: (gesturing Tim to shut up)

Bruce: I'll check his articles later today, then. Jaylad, had you read any of it?

Jason, grumpy as hell: You know me. I only read that crap for Lois.

Tim: That's a shame. Because I love this man SO MUCH.

(On the other side of table)

Dick, whistling: Damn, I think Lil Wing is jealous.

Damian, nodding: Todd definitely wishes he could be Drake's favourite writer.

[lovelybucky1]

I need yelena to fuck me while Bucky watches tbh. Or the whole team(minus Alexei) 🫠

fuck john, i hate john, this is not a john safe space

you sit with your back flush to yelena’s chest and your feet propped up on the seat of the couch. your knees are up and your legs are spread wide, giving your audience a perfect view of yelena’s fingers stuffed inside of you.

three sets of eyes are focused intently on how you take them. the wetness of your eager pussy makes the slide easy, and she’s taken her time to open you up.

yelena’s chin is hooked over your shoulder, putting her mouth at the perfect position to talk in your ear. she gives you praises both in english and russin, quiet enough so only you can hear them.

“look what you’re doing to bob. he looks like he’s about to cum in his pants,” she coos. “think he’s ever seen such a pretty pussy before?”

you shake your head. maybe that’s conceited of you, but yelena has given you so much praise over the course of your relationship that you’re surprised your head still fits in the room.

“ava looks like she’s dying for a taste of you. would you let her?”

“yes,” you moan, far too loud.

“awh, you sweet thing,” she chuckles. “that eager for more?”

“i need it, please.”

she stops thursting her fingers and instead curls them, rubbing that spot deep inside that drives you crazy. her thumb joins in and begins to toy with your clit, the dual stimulation pushing you closer to your edge.

“all three of them, but i’m the only one who you cum for,” she mumbles.

“i’m so close, lena. please let me,” you whine.

she hums in consideration. “what do you think, barnes. should i?” she doesn’t raise her voice any, but she doesn’t need to. she knows bucky can hear her perfectly fine.

“yeah,” he responds, startling both ava and bob. “let her cum.” his voice is thick with desire, and all three of them have matching lust-blown eyes.

“go ahead, love. be good and cum for me,” she orders.

you stop straining to hold back your orgasm and allow it to wash over you. your cunt, soaking and sensitive, pulses around her fingers. she doesn’t stop her movements until you’re trying to squim away from her, too sensitive to take it.

“fuck,” bob swears under his breath.