#hoe writes

[aesthetixhoe]

warnings: cursing, thigh riding, soft!dom! ethan, inexperienced!sub! reader, fem!reader, possessive ethan, slight corruption kink, dirty talk, lots of praise, hints of subspace

CURRENTLY THINKING ABOUT

slightly experienced!ethan with an inexperienced!reader.

You were in his lap, hand tangled in his hair, lips interlocked, his hands on your hips, slowly migrating towards your ass. When they finally land and grips your ass you gasp slightly in his mouth.

His hips buck up, making you whimper.

“Are you ok with this? I really like where this is going but I want to make sure you're ok with it too.” He looks up at you breathless with need in his eyes.

Your heart is beating out of your chest as you look into his eyes. You nod softly. “I'm ok... I just...”

“Sweetheart, if you're not alright we don't have to do anything, I promise. I want you to be sure before we do anything.” He grabs your hand and runs his thumb over your knuckle comfortingly.

“I've never done this...” You look down at his hands stroking yours.

“You've never been touched by someone else?” He asks, joining your eyes on both of your guys' hands.

“No, Ethan... I've never done anything. Not even by myself...” You speak even softer than before. He hooks his thumb and finger around your chin, lifting your head up so your eyes meet his.

“Baby, are you saying you've never came before?” His question is less condescending than you expected. Everyone else you've revealed the fact to has lost their minds over it. You nod your head softly. “And you want to?” He asks for reassurance, and you respond again with the same head movement.

His lips go back to yours with a new found fervor. It was like the idea of him being the first person to ever make you cum drove him wild.

“If I do something too far just tell me and I'll stop ok?” You nod again. “I need words sweetheart.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Yes.” You know you're turned on, you've felt it before, especially around Ethan, but you don't know how to act on it. “What do I do?” You question quietly.

“Just relax and do what feels right baby. Here, move your hips a little.” His hands fall and grips the meat of your hips, dragging them up and down his thigh slowly. You sigh and your head moves to lay on his shoulder. The friction of your clothing up against your clit makes your body heat up and your breath gets shallower. “Feel good?” He asks, checking in.

You whine an ‘mhm’ into his ear. With the confirmation he speeds his hands up, making you gasp. “Oh god, E...” You moan, muffling yourself into his neck.

He leans back, stopping the motion of your hips. “Nuh uh beautiful, wanna hear you.”

“‘M sorry, was scared I sounded bad...” You whisper. You've never done this before and the insecurity was coming out.

“Oh no baby, I wanna hear all those pretty sounds you make alright?”

“Yes sir.” His hips buck up. Holy shit. While Ethan was more experienced than you, he had still never been called sir. He might explode.

“Fuck baby, like it when you call me that. Can't wait to feel you one day, gonna feel so good wrapped around me.” His grip on you gets tighter and the pace of your hips speed up. You can feel your stomach starting to get tighter and your head falls backwards, exposing your neck to Ethan. He jumps on the opportunity to mark the area. “Gonna mark you up, love. You'll have to show everyone you're mine. Show everyone who makes you feel good. Who is it huh?” He says in between kisses to your neck, and after asking the final question he sucks on the expanse of your neck.

“You!” You moan, “Fuck, you Ethan. You're making me feel good. So good. I- feels weird.” Your hips stutter, unsure of if this is the feeling everyone talks about.

Ethan pulls back, looking into your eyes “No baby, don't stop, it's ok. Keep going, you're gonna cum.” He speeds your hips up again. Your head falls forward onto his chest. There's nothing in your brain, you feel like you can't speak anymore, all you can feel is Ethan and the friction between your legs. It's all too much but not enough.

Your thighs squeeze together unintentionally, but it adds the cherry on top for what you need to cum. Ethan catches on and tenses his thigh muscle. “Gon... Gonna- E- f-fuck-”

“It's ok baby, let go, cum for me.”

[aikatoru]

I truly believed that Nanami is the type of guy to have a Victoria Secret Model approach him and ask him for his number and he’ll be raising his hand 🖐️ stopping her at mid sentence to tell her,

“Sorry I have a wife. And she’s the most beautiful woman in the world to me,” all while looking at you laughing with your friends at a distance.

Just completely and utterly smitten.

[lexosaurus]

Danny Phantom Side Hoes Week 2024

THE PEOPLE HAVE SPOKEN! After a week of relentless campaigning, voting, of blood, sweat, and tears, here are the TOP VOTED side characters you all wanted to see more of this year!

March 3: Wulf, missed moments March 4: Jazz Fenton, university times March 5: Super Danny (from Identity Crisis), domestic / off duty March 6: Jack Fenton, nostalgic March 7: Dani Phantom, self defense March 8: Nocturn, creation March 9: Cujo, treasure

As you can see from this list, this year's #1 Side Hoe is Cujo! What a good boy! We wish him all the doggy treats this March 2024!

You can make fics, art, music, crossovers, crochet, amvs, memes—really, whatever you want! Just be sure to tag your work with #dp side hoes week 2024 so everyone can find it!

The event runs Sunday, March 3rd to Saturday, March 9th. Have fun!

[Also, HUGE thank you to @stealingyourbones for helping with the event and making the graphics for the calendar! Grab the high res character images here!]

[chrollohearttags]

y’all won’t be satisfied until you run every black writer off this app and I’m so serious. Yes, I’m being rude to anybody that takes time out of their day to post some dumb ass remarks (a recycled one at that) and uses it to disrespect black writers of any capacity. Sitting up screaming about wanting more representation and the black reader fics being nonexistent but y’all get mad about everything. Yes, I’m cussing y’all out everytime I see it and I’m blocking idc. Free, FREE content that people took time to create, y’all are being nasty about it. We don’t owe y’all grace or kindness. Especially when we can see the hypocrisy. Go to hell with gas undies on and leave us alone. And please write whatever y’all want and fuck these people. Thanks for coming to my Ted talk

[goodfish-bowl]

Check Your Sources

DP Side Hoes Week 2024 Master Post

Day 2: Jazz Fenton - university times

Summary: Jazz has a misunderstanding with a professor over her selected topic for her paper.

Word Count: 1271

AO3 Link

Jazz Fenton had remembered turning in her psychology paper on ecto-psychology, particularly the role of obsessions in the mental state of Ecto-entities, with utmost confidence. She had meant it as a draft for the final paper she intended to published after the completion of her degree. She had already sent in her paper on Ghost Envy for her application to the college, and it was currently in the process of being peer-reviewed, so she needed something new for her current psychology paper. She had compiled the information for it during her last trip to Amity Park, and organized it into this assignment, including multiple citations both within the ecto-science fields and otherwise, to make sure her paper was well-rounded. She had quadruple-checked everything, from her grammar, to her formatting, to the way she cited each of her sources. 

For these reasons, Jazz was absolutely confounded by the red ink and stark zero written at the top of her returned paper. There was a sticky note attached, telling her to talk to the professor after class.

Jazz glanced between her paper, and the professor in horror. During the course of the term, Jazz had developed a deep respect for Dr. Kaplan, and her work on the psychology of people with PTSD. She must have a good reason for giving her such a poor grade, but the fact she received it at all filled her with mortification. She had never gotten a grade so low in her entire education. Jazz needed to know why, but she couldn’t even figure out what she had done wrong in the first place. In the corner of her mind, she had a sinking suspicion, but hoped with everything she was wrong. 

Jazz spent the entire class in a tizzy. Constantly flipping back and forth between the day’s class-work and her paper. Outside of the first page, the rest of the paper was completely unmarked. Frustration began to simmer underneath Jazz’s skin. How was she supposed to fix this if the professor never even told her what she did wrong?! But it would be fine… she was meeting with the teacher after class anyways. 

From that point forward, class moved forward at a crawl. Jazz still couldn’t pay much attention, and found her notes were much less organized than she would prefer. But when the professor dismissed them, Jazz practically darted to Dr. Kaplan’s podium. 

The professor was a thin, wiry woman, dressed professionally, and looked down upon Jazz from behind equally wiry glasses. She gave Jazz a hard-look, almost one of disdain, and it was only the years of facing the nightmares of Amity Park that kept her from physically recoiling. She removed her eyes from Jazz and gazed around the still-emptying classroom. 

“It might be better to have this conversation in my office,” Dr. Kaplan stated, leaving the room, with Jazz practically at her heels. 

Dr. Kaplan’s office was a fair reflection of the woman herself. Neutral colors, her degree on display, and psychology books lining her singular bookshelf. Her desk was dark wood, and chairs cushions a beige leather. The plant sitting by the window was fake. It was all very professional, and at the same time very impersonal and lifeless. Despite the light colors and the sunlight streaming in through the window blinds, the atmosphere was near stifling. 

The professor took her seat behind the desk, and Jazz hesitated, waiting until Dr. Kaplan gestured for her to take a seat. The seats were more stylish than they were comfortable. She gingerly set her paper on the edge of the desk, sitting board-straight in the chair. 

“Ms. Fenton,” Dr. Kaplan practically sighed, “is there a reason you’re not taking my class seriously?”

The question came completely unexpected. “What are you talking about, Dr. Kaplan? I’ve been giving this class my best efforts,” Jazz pleaded. 

Dr. Kaplan frowned, tapping her carefully manicured, neutrally colored nails against her paper. “This assignment says otherwise.”

Jazz frowned, mentally skimming over the paper. “I… I don’t understand. I’ve followed the assignment criteria almost exactly, I’ve even collected first-hand observations.”

Dr. Kaplan looked like she had sucked a lemon. “Ah, yes,” she said flatly. “Ms. Fenton, while you’ve followed the semblance of the rubric for this assignment to a near exceptional degree, a paper on the theoretical psychology of fictional beings is hardly an acceptable paper topic.” 

 Ah, there it was. Jazz had suspected as much, but it still didn’t calm the simmering frustration, boiling into anger under her skin. 

“Honestly,” Dr. Kaplan continued, “for such a brilliant girl, I can only see the submission of a paper like this as a lack of care, and simply unprofessional to boot. To go as far as to make up sources, as properly cited as they are, is simply-”

It was taking everything within Jazz not to blow up in her professor’s face. Her nails were starting to bite into her palms, and her teeth felt sharp in her mouth as she grit them. Had Dr. Kaplan stopped at the whole ‘ghosts aren’t real’ bit, it wouldn’t have been anything she hadn’t heard before. But to accuse her of lying, and making up sources, that was getting a bit too close to unforgivable. She was losing any respect she had for this professor with every word out of her mouth. 

“Those are real sources and I have recordings of the data I collected myself,” Jazz had to keep herself from hissing. “You’re welcome to check my sources. Of course, due to the analog nature of the recordings, they will require a tape player to view. As for the other second and third hand sources, they are all from qualified journals.” 

“I admire the lengths you’ve gone to make your work of fiction as realistic as possible however-”

“Have you heard of Amity Park before?” Jazz could not stop herself from growling out the question, shooting to her feet, unable to take this sitting down any longer. “Have you done any research to support your claim over mine?”

Dr. Kaplan had a deer-in-headlights expression as Jazz towered over her desk, while also simultaneously adding the only color to her entire office through the reddening of her face. “Are you delusional? Ghosts aren’t real.”

Jazz felt what little ectoplasm that lived under her skin hum in tune with her rage as she slammed a hand down onto the desk, crinkling her paper underneath her wrath. This wasn’t about the grade anymore.

 “Ecto-science is a pseudo-science at worst. It is young and mostly unexplored, but it is hardly fictional. Psychology used to occupy the very same space not too long ago. If you had done any research to check your biases, you would have found this out.” 

Something was burning. 

Jazz quickly snatched her paper back into her hands, gritting her teeth, and reigning in her anger as fast as she could. She cleared her throat hard enough for it to sound like a snarl. 

“It appears your classroom will no longer be a conductive learning environment for me,” Jazz spoke evenly, tone carefully measured. “It would do you well to actually look into the topics your students write about.”

Jazz collected her things, already mentally filing out the required paperwork and emails to the Registar’s Office to have her transferred to a different class. She moved to the doorway and gave her professor a polite nod, ignoring the gobsmacked look on Dr. Kalplan’s face. 

“Have a nice afternoon, Professor.”

Jazz fled the room, dead set in ignoring the hand-shaped burn she had left on her professor’s desk and the smoldering paper in her hands.

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

obsessed with the idea of seelie faerie prince gojou, as charming and as tricksy as all fae are. his snow-white hair eye catching and his azure eyes like gems pressed into his flesh

seelie prince satoru whose very birth shook faerieland as foretold by the stars red, blue and purple stars that soared through the sky the night of his birth

seelie prince satoru who is much more observant than his penchant for revels and merrymaking belies

seelie prince satoru who relishes in obnoxiously getting under the skin of the gentry of his court with his radical ideas that challenge the traditions that have been established for centuries

seelie prince satoru whose court is filled with political strife between three major families- the gojou, zenin and kamo. and it's really just his look this particular luck that he's bleeding out after a particularly harrowing attempt on his life. must have been that petty bastard naoya but in this particular moment, numb from poison and with a bloodied torso it really isn't going to do him any good trying to figure out who sent the now dead assassin after him

he won't die from this, he's been developing an immunity to poison. but even so, this is tough on his body as he sits in a misty forest waiting for the poison to wear off on his body with the scent of iron strong in the air

that's when he sees something that any faerie would consider the worst omen ー he sees you.

faeries are immortal folk. unless someone goes out of their way to kill them, they never die. it's what makes them stronger, far further creatures than humans with their insect-length lifespans

seelie prince satoru who even with his eyes, it's difficult seeing you clearly with poison muddling his senses but he sees the tell-tell white hair and gray skin and he knows you're a banshee

seelie prince satoru who chuckles humorlessly as he accepts that apparently, his luck has run out

he's sure of this as you slowly come closer and closer until he sees you much more clearly. your eyes are bloodshot, as to be expected of your kind. but your eyes might be the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. they're a pale lilac and your pupils are a ghostly white, shockingly light against the reds of your eyes but even that looks beautiful. he never cared particularly for the color red before but in this moment he can understand why red caps crave the color so and satoru thinks that if he is going to hear those damning cries that will seal his fate in this instant, he's glad it's you

banshees were human women that died in grief, right? that died tragedy before the grace of the gods turned them fae. death is a beautiful look on you but he wonders what you'd look if you were still colored in the shades of life that once blossomed over you like spring blooms

and so you part your lips... but rather than wail and scream, announcing to the headless riders of faerie that death is near, death is coming for gojou satoru your eyebrows knit in worry and you ask

"are you alright?" as you kneel by his side, reaching for his wounds carefully. your voice is honestly akin to hearing birdsong in the night, a juxtaposition he wasn't prepared for. "here, let me help you"

apparently the seelie prince's luck is greater still. death won't come for him yet. instead, he's become a hypocrite. an unintelligent hypocrite but he can't quite seem to make himself care in this instance when he is tended to by your cold but gentle touch and your lark-like voice drips like honey from your lips.

whether it's folk or mortal, satoru likens love to a curse that makes those around him stupid. a curse that leads to betrayals, war and frankly too much strife he desires to deal with

yet in this moment, that very curse seemed to course through his veins

stupid is as stupid does, seelie prince satoru's lips part and he asks you as if enraptured in a spell "please marry me and i'll love you more faithfully than any man, fae or otherwise"

as for you... you're simply a banshee who just happened to be in this forest when you spotted an injured elf in the distance and decided to see if he'd accept your help if he didn't outright lose his mind in fear at the sight of you. you think he might have considering the words that left his mouth

it must be the blood loss talking

unfortunately for you and much to the aggravation of suguru and kento, seelie prince satoru's most trusted advisors, satoru was very much serious and fervently keeps referring to you as his future queen when you haven't even accepted the proposal

seelie prince satoru who insists you stay in his palace, at the very least until after a revel in a few moons time he wishes to throw in your honor. as thanks for treating his injuries which are still healing, might he add. anything could happen, what if a banshee needs to herald his death and one isn't around? he would also like the time to woo you over. please? just until then

seelie prince satoru who ignores the ardent whispers that it is bad luck for a banshee to be so close the prince. that insist that death fae are like roaches. surely if one appears, there will be more banshee and dullahan that follow

seelie prince satoru who coldly states that any such insult toward the woman who saved his life will find those who said them hearing the chilling cries they so fear sooner than they'd enjoy

[steddieas-shegoes]

Steve very rarely gets sick. He prides himself on it.

But when Eddie spent three days in a row in bed with a fever, puking every time he got up, and coughing everywhere he could reach, Steve had no choice but to stay and take care of him. Which meant he spent three days in direct contact with whatever virus decided to leave Eddie bedridden.

Halfway through his shift at Family Video, he turned to Robin and said he was going to pass out.

She didn’t believe him, laughed it off like he was being dramatic. “You’ve been hanging around Eddie too much lately.”

So when he passed out five seconds later, she panicked. He opened his eyes to her frantically trying to move him onto his side.

“Robs, ‘s not a seizure.”

“Right, but what if you puke?”

“I’m just dehydrated.”

He wasn’t just dehydrated.

He was dehydrated and feverish and exhausted.

He was sick.

Robin called Eddie to come pick him up, rambling nervously over the phone about his symptoms. Steve couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but he knew Eddie was probably laughing at the situation.

“He’ll be here to get you in 10 minutes. Can you please not pass out again because I don’t think I can handle it.”

“Sure, I’ll just tell my brain to hold off until Eddie’s here.”

“Thanks.”

Steve rolled his eyes as he settled on the floor behind the counter. Robin wouldn’t let him stand up again in case he fell and hit his head, which was actually probably a smart move.

When Eddie arrived, he took one look at Steve on the floor and sighed, shaking his head in disappointment.

“I warned you, Stevie! I said ‘you’re gonna get sick, you shouldn’t stay’ and what did you do? Mommed yourself right into the flu.”

Steve didn’t dignify that with an answer, mostly because it would take too much energy to give one. He stood on shaking legs and made his way to the door.

He felt so weak, he barely registered when his knees started to buckle. Strong arms wrapped around him from behind and held him up.

“Jesus, Steve. Were you feeling this bad when you left home?”

Steve shook his head and let out an embarrassing whine. His head was throbbing, a dull ache set in shortly after he got to work, and only got worse after he passed out.

“Can you make it to the van or do you need me to carry you?”

“I can make it, just…help?”

Eddie kept an arm wrapped around Steve’s waist, supporting most of his weight as they walked to his van. He opened the passenger side door and helped Steve get seated and as comfortable as possible.

Steve let out another small whine when he realized he would have to move to buckle himself in.

“What’s wrong?”

Eddie was so nice. Maybe he could buckle him.

“Belt?”

Eddie wordlessly reached for the belt and buckled Steve in, his hair brushing along Steve’s cheek and chest as he pulled away.

Steve repressed another whine, though for a different reason, when Eddie’s hand brushed against his thigh.

His thighs were sensitive, even in jeans. Sue him.

Steve nodded off during the drive to his house, barely aware of Eddie singing along to something on the radio.

When they arrived, Eddie unbuckled Steve’s seatbelt and helped him out of the van. He was saying something to Steve, but his brain wasn’t processing any of it.

He could barely keep his eyes open while Eddie got him upstairs and into bed.

He could feel Eddie’s rough hands gently pulling off his jeans and shirt, but couldn’t offer much help.

Passing out really did a number on him.

“Yeah, I think it did.”

Oh. Steve said that out loud. Interesting.

“You don’t do anything halfway, do you? Get sick and it’s like your brain’s melted out your ears.”

Steve let out a giggle before relaxing against his pillow.

Eddie started to tuck him in, pulling his covers up to his chin and brushing a piece of hair away from his face.

“I’m gonna get you some water. You hungry?”

Steve felt his stomach turn at just the thought of food touching his mouth. He used all of his remaining energy to shake his head.

“Be right back, Stevie.”

**********

When Steve opened his eyes again, it was too dark to even recognize his own bed. It’s been so long since he slept with no light, he felt disoriented and scared that the power had gone out.

Just as he was struggling to sit up, he heard a grumble from the floor followed by a groan.

“It’s okay, Stevie. I’ll get the light.”

Before Steve could process who the voice belonged to, his bedside lamp turned on and covered him in a golden glow.

Eddie.

The room started spinning around him before he could say anything. He closed his eyes to avoid the disorientation, but it only made it worse.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart. I’ve got ya.”

And he did. Eddie’s arms were wrapping around Steve and pulling him against his chest, solidifying his presence in one place despite everything else in the room moving.

Steve melted into Eddie, breathing in the faint leather and smoke smell that never failed to make him feel safe.

“You just have no filter when you’re sick, huh?”

Eddie laughed softly, brushing his lips against the top of Steve’s head.

Steve didn’t give a response, not able to actually produce words when he wants to, apparently.

“You’re burning up. I got some Tylenol for you while you slept. You should take some now and try to rest.”

“Stay?”

Eddie didn’t respond, just moved to grab the water from the table and hand it to Steve. He watched as he took the Tylenol, telling him he did a good job before putting the water back on the table.

Just as Steve settled against Eddie’s chest again, he was moved away by strong hands.

The whimper he let out stopped Eddie in his tracks.

“Are you in pain? Robin said your migraines get so bad sometimes you can’t move. Is that happening?”

Steve shook his head, immediately regretting doing so when the room started spinning again.

“Stay.”

It only took a moment for Eddie to adjust them both so they could lay down together. Steve wasted no time in curling into Eddie’s side, and Eddie’s hand found it’s way to Steve’s hair.

His fingers gently pulled through some of the tangles, smiling to himself when Steve couldn’t hold back a shiver.

“Feel okay?”

“Mhm.”

“Can’t believe you let me get you sick.”

“‘S worth it.”

“You’re ridiculous. Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?”

Eddie only hesitated a moment before dropping a kiss to Steve’s forehead.

“Promise.”

They hadn’t acknowledged the way Steve had acted when taking care of Eddie. They hadn’t talked about the cuddling and small kisses to his hair or cheek or nose. They hadn’t even been around each other since Eddie was feeling better.

But this felt like a turning point - no more ignoring the way they felt about each other. If Eddie was reading things right, Steve wasn’t just like this because he was sick and slightly delusional.

They’d have a talk when he was better, but for now, Eddie let Steve suction himself to his side and take the comfort he needed.

[restwellsoon]

A Circle of Salt | Fic Cover

Minors and ageless blogs, DO NOT interact.

Pairing: Shouto Todoroki x F!Reader

Summary: With the end of the Great War and his father’s death, Prince Shouto must find his and his kingdom’s place in a rapidly changing world. As a result, the Todoroki Kingdom has finally opened its doors to its neighbors after centuries of isolation. You see this as an opportunity to not only advance in your career as a lowly government aid but to also take advantage of the tropical island as your new office space.

However, with the nobility working to maintain their status quo, there’s another reason why it may be difficult for you and Shouto to achieve your goals – the prince seems to have misunderstood what sort of partnership you seek with him.

“I’m happy to hear that, Prince Shouto.” Your voice was even, not too disinterested and not too eager. “I look forward to our future together.” Your answer pleased him, and he replied, “Excellent. I was worried that my response was too casual for a marriage proposal, especially since I’m unfamiliar with the customs of the Republic. However, I do plan to formalize our betrothal according to the traditional rites of my nation.” For a second time, your mind replayed the way his mouth moved to say marriage, proposal and betrothal, his voice clear and steadfast. Marriage. Proposal. Betrothal.  Marriage. Proposal. Betrothal. Marriage. Proposal. Betrothal. Heat rose to your cheeks, mimicking the tropical sun. Worse than mishearing, you realized that there was a terrible, terrible misunderstanding between you and Shouto. You weren’t sure how to tell your superior that the fate between the two nations was unknown, but at least you knew that relations between the prince and yourself were solid.

Tags: fantasy AU, royalty AU, arranged marriage, miscommunications, romance, smut, Todoroki family drama

Status | coming soon to AO3!

Return to

Curated Masterlists

Todoroki Masterlist

[aesthetixhoe]

warnings: making out, hints of sub!ethan, alludes to sex. inspired by this post by @applesauzze . reader has a bra on

CURRENTLY THINKING ABOUT kiss drunk Ethan.

It was your third date and it went well. Really well. Well enough that when you got back to your apartment - Ethan insisted on walking you back like a gentleman - you invited him in. Well enough that after you did invite him in, you two ended up on your couch, faces closer than they'd ever been. Well enough that you found yourself leaning in.

You'd kissed before, but Ethan was good. Oddly good considering his lack of experience. You expected that when you pulled back his eyes would be glazed over, its not unusual. What you didn't expect was for him to lean back in. You pull back.

“Hey I thought you wanted to go slow?” You ask, chuckling softly.

He looks at you with those big, needy, brown eyes and you almost forget about taking it slow. Turns out Ethan feels the same way because he's pulling your hips on top of his so you're straddling him. “I need more.” He leans up to try and capture your lips, and continues to follow your lips higher as you lean back.

“Ethan, more what?”

“More of you.”

He grabs the back of your head and pulls your face down into his. When your lips hit each other's he lets out a muffled whine making your breath speed up. Your hands fly to his shoulder and cheek pulling him closer.

You both are forced to pull back when you run out of air. You stare into each other's eyes. “Holy fuck. You're amazing.” He whispers breathlessly.

You grin at his complement, feeling your heart swell. “You're not so bad yourself Landry.” You run your thumb over his cheeks that are turning pink.

You lean down to reattach your lips to his. Ethan's hands have moved from the back of your head to your hips, his thumbs gliding underneath your shirt. As the kiss gets more heated they slowly migrate up so his whole hand is under your shirt, getting closer to your bra.

“E, we have to stop, too far.” You explain.

His hands stop moving and his eyes widen, “Oh, I am so sorry. Did I make you uncomfortable?”

“It's not that Ethan, I don't want you to go past where you want to. Slow remember...” You nod your head, almost reminding yourself more. You didn't want him to regret anything.

“Are you ok with this?” He asks softly.

You nod. “Then kiss me.”

anotha one. if i were to make a taglist, who would want to be on it..?

[thesargasmicgoddess]

🤣🤣🤣

But what if you STARTED OUT as Wednesday? 🤭😬😬☠️

[thatharringrovehoe]

Y'all ever think about a Harringrove AU where Steve is just batshit insane to his core? Like full yandere type shit. He'd do anything for Billy, up to and including manslaughter. And the thing is no one would believe that big brown eyes, gangly clutz Steve Harrington would really hurt anyone. He's had his shit rocked by Jonathan Byers for Christ sake, not to mention the fight he and Billy got into that one November. But he would. He does, enough that the nail bat he keeps in the trunk of his Beamer is stained wine red. I don't have any coherent plotline for this, I just think Billy deserves a love so deep and all consuming and feral that he never doubts his worth again. Because to Steve? Billy is everything.

[lexosaurus]

Danny Phantom Side Hoes Week 2024 VOTING

They doubted our strength, our commitment. They said we were too weak, too uncertain, they said "lexx ur too into tormenting danny u could NEVER pick another side character to devote even an hour to!" and to that i say NAY! NAY TO THE NAYSAYERS! TO THE NONBELIEVERS!

Because I stand here before you right here with the FIFTH YEAR of Danny Phantom Side Hoes Week voting!

Here is your chance to tell the poll (and by extension, the tumblr phandom) who YOU want to see featured in this year's ultimate contest for the side characters in our beloved show who—as side character do—get cruelly and unjustly shoved to the sidelines time and time again!

So here me, dear phandom content enjoyer. Whether you're team vivisecc, team dissecc, or team "why do we need to gore so much why can't we just let them go to sleep for once," let's all RISE UP and VOTE for who we want to see get a whole day in the Side Hoes week dedicated just to them!

(as always, characters featured last year will not be featured this year. if a character was not on the list last year, and is also not on the voting form, DM me and let me know)

NOW GO VOTE!

[chrollohearttags]

hey readers! ever find yourself without something to fulfill you? maybe you’re tired of all the soul crushing, degrading smut that circulates this app on the daily with THOUSANDS of notes because no one could possibly like such treacherous filth, could they? I mean, what type of slutty, self hating jezebel would even think of such things? Perhaps you’d like a sweet, powder puff fluff that you just can’t be vexed to reblog from other writers because let’s be honest, it takes too much work, doesn’t it? 🥰 I mean, who wants to waste time supporting ACTUAL writers when it’s much easier to twiddle those dirt stained thumbs together and construct useless, harmful critiques that really aren’t worth two farts in the wind. But boy, do I have a solution for you all! This new, innovative technology will help you create the fic of your dreams! Follow these steps below:

1. go to your browser of your choice (Google, IE, Edge, Opera for all my gaming nerds)

2. search ‘Google Docs’ and from there, you’ll get a screen. Perhaps it’ll look like this or maybe this:

3. Click that pretty little plus sign and you’re on your way to achieving fictional bliss.

and remember kids, the next time you feel the strong urge to post another meaningless, recycled bait post because no one in real life loves you and attention is scarce so you seek it the only way you know how…your old buddy Google Docs will be right there to fill that void. Let’s hope you can make it past the spelling of the name stage ❤️ have a good day everyone!

[stealingyourbones]

The calendar pixelated the shit out of some of my drawings for Danny Phantom Side Hoes Week of 2024 organized by the wonderful @lexosaurus! feast your eyes on the high res versions of my cursed creations:

[salsakiyoomi]

bestfriend! akaashi who first introduced himself formerly to you when the teacher paried you both up for an english project.

bestfriend! akaashi who was in awe at how smart and witty you were and soon got to know you and became friends you quickly after.

bestfriend! akaashi who spends time with you more often than not — your company brings him a sense of unknown comfort and he might've gotten a little too cozy around you.

bestfriend! akaashi who showed up at your doorstep for your birthday, with cookies he baked himself and that one perfume you had your eyes on for a while as a gift.

bestfriend! akaashi who never fails to smile and laugh at your silly, lame jokes — who doesn't notice how his heart flutters everytime you make one.

bestfriend! akaashi who finally realizes that he might have fallen for you a couple of weeks before graduation — the fluttering of his heart and the heat of his face have become too evident to ignore — and he's not sure what to do with the overwhelming feeling of emotion he has towards you.

bestfriend! akaashi who thinks fuck it and asks you out for prom, and watches as your eyes widen in shock before you laugh and he doesn't believe his ears when he hears you answer with yes.

bestfriend! akaashi who you pull on to the dancefloor and convince him to dance with you to the slow dance song, and he doesn't believe it when by the end of the song you press your lips to his.

boyfriend! akaashi who tastes so sweet like vanilla and whose cologne is so overwhelmingly strong that it completely engulfs you whenever your body presses up close to his.

boyfriend! akaashi who is subtle with his physical affection, but his hand is always linked with yours, and sometimes you feel the tips of his fingers press against the small of your back as he leads you through a crowd.

boyfriend! akaashi whose kisses are soft and tender, just a mere peck to your lips whenever he says hello or goodbye.

boyfriend! akaashi who brings flowers to every date of yours, who brought you red roses to your first date because they're a good classic and ideal but then usually brings you hand picked flowers or paper flower bouquets.

boyfriend! akaashi who took you out to his favourite cafe for your first date and ordered your drink for you and paid for it despite your trying to convince him you'd pay for your own drink.

boyfriend! akaashi who brings you random gifts from time to time, whether it be something expensive such as a watch or a bag you wanted or a handmade gift such as his hand written letters that he pours his heart out into them for you.

boyfriend! akaashi who is an old fashioned lover — ladies first he'd say as he opens the door for you, he pays for everything you ask for whenever the two of you are out together and who bends down to tie your shoes whenever they get loose.

boyfriend! akaashi who gifted you a moon stone necklace for your first year anniversary together, it was so beautiful you couldn't believe your eyes — he clasped it around your neck in front of the mirror and pressed a kiss to the side of your neck, you look so beautiful, love he had whispered into your ear as he wrapped his arms around you.

boyfriend! akaashi who loves you with every ounce of his being, and thought he isn't the most vocal about it, you do know it from your photo albums, your gifts, and the time spent together.

tagging : @ermespop (headcanons as promised) & @keyz-writes

[comradekatara]

Ok we should talk more about sokka and aang because these two dumbasses are adorable together! Underrated relationship

The gag with Katara and blind Toph in season 3 is still the funniest scene in the series lol

yeah their friendship very cute. i like how when they're left to their own devices their respective adhd tendencies combine, that feels very true to my relationships with my friends who also have adhd lol. it's also just really adorable how through aang's sheer lovability, sokka learns to loosen up a little and appreciate life (somewhat, sometimes) in a more relaxed, content way. aang is a really good and highly valuable influence on everyone around him, especially as he counteracts the logic of war and its necessity for violence, which is an ideology sokka not only heavily subscribes to, but to which he attaches his very personhood. aang reminds sokka that he is still a child (he reminds katara of this too, but it happens in the literal pilot, whereas sokka's journey to literally enjoying himself ever is far more gradual and grueling). aang reminds sokka that he is human.

that said, i do think that people tend to be reductive when talking about the value of their relationship. not to single you out specifically, but i do kind of take umbrage with the notion (perhaps unintentional) that all their dynamic is good for is being adorable and funny. calling them "dumbasses" because they can be silly and goofy sometimes, or scatterbrained and absent-minded. i genuinely think that aang and sokka constitute one of the most interesting foils in the entire show. normally when we talk about character foils, we talk about characters who are positioned in opposition to each other, but aang and sokka are fascinating because they're allies (and friends) who nonetheless approach the same problem with the same intentions and the same goals but from completely different angles.

in many ways, sokka is aang's most distinct opposite. but first, to address their similarities: they're both victims of a genocidal imperialist project that has burdened them with a responsibility to their people that they are too young and barely equipped to handle; they are both expected to shoulder this burden easily by those around them due to their nature as "gifted" child prodigies with distinctly unique skillset and an unprecedented ability to absorb and apply new information that they learn at a genuinely abnormal rate (remember that aang is not just the avatar, but an incredibly prodigious avatar at that; he mastered all four elements within less than a year by the age of twelve, whereas most avatars take at least another four years to master their elements); they are both the "leaders" of their small guerrilla militia of child soldiers, and they take turns giving each other guidance and trusting and following the other's lead; they both consider katara the central figure in their lives and love her with an almost obsessive devotion; they both repress their grief and other unpalatable emotions through humor and constant distraction, and sometimes even depersonalize entirely when they feel that their goal is more important than retaining their humanity (sokka does this more frequently, but when aang does it, it's more blatant); and of course, they both harbor massive guilt complexes for the devastating tragedies (largely beyond their control) that have shaped their lives, and are constantly replaying those moments of "failure" as that of acute shame to motivate themselves as they strive to rectify and "atone" for their past errors.

so, as you can see, reducing their friendship to "adorable dumbasses" is already not very interesting. to me, the best aang and sokka scenes aren't the ones wherein they are playing and goofing around together. those scenes are sweet and charming, of course, but the best aang and sokka scenes are the ones wherein sokka is positioned as the logical consequence of aang's grief. wherein present-day sokka becomes the worst case scenario for a hypothetical future aang. in many ways, their friendship is incredibly bittersweet, because it is also punctuated by moments wherein sokka threatens aang's entire value system and quote-unquote "innocence" through attempting to mold him into a Man Of War the way he does those hapless toddlers in his village. for all that sokka is remarkably open-minded and receptive to new ideas, he cannot see past the limits of the world he was born into and the mechanisms and assumptions of violence he was forced to internalize and embody. aang is, of course, totally unique in his ability to not only envision a world beyond the war (i would argue that katara has the ability to do this as well), but also to have actually experienced it. and so it is truly a testament to aang's resilience that he is almost entirely impervious to sokka's ruthless, militaristic logic, even as sokka constantly attempts to enforce it.

i have a much longer post in my drafts about how aang and sokka are positioned in "the serpent's pass" (one of their best episodes in terms of their dynamic, also just a highly underrated episode in general), so i'm not gonna get too much into it here, but katara's relationship to aang as paralleled with suki's relationship to sokka is really fascinating in this episode for the ways in which it also positions katara's grief over witnessing aang's attempt to detach himself from his grief to focus on his goals and aang slipping into "sokkahood," and the absolutely devastating implications of what that must mean for katara. i think there's a strong case, in general, for the reading of katara attempting to replace her lost childhood (with sokka) through aang as he represents a vehicle for her overly idealized nostalgia (much like how zuko projects onto aang and views him as a vehicle to return to that site of his overly idealized childhood), and thus, quite literally, replacing sokka with aang. to katara, aang possesses what sokka has since lost, or perhaps something he never got the chance to have in the first place. and that isn't to say that katara views aang as a brother, but rather that katara longs for companionship in any form, and what is aang if not the ideal companion? so aang's grief and rage scares her not only because it pains her to see someone she loves so deeply in so much pain, but also because it reflects her own pain back at her, as someone who has lost so much, including family members (also including kanna and hakoda) who are, ostensibly (at least physically), still alive.

one of the most fascinating scenes between sokka and aang in the entire show is when sokka straight up attacks aang for burning katara in "the deserter." katara is very clearly affected by this beyond simply the physical pain; being burned by the weapon that killed her mother is explicitly triggering for her, and she retreats into herself and sobs like a child (she is a child, but you know what i mean. an even younger child). and sokka in turn is triggered by katara being triggered, because his entire existence revolves around his oath to protect her, and she was just hurt by the one person to whom she stakes all her hope and pride and joy and affection above all. aang obviously understands the gravity of this accident immediately; it of course wasn't intentional, but he nonetheless takes full accountability and apologizes sincerely. but sokka only calms down somewhat once he knows for certain that katara is okay. and instead of going to find katara as she sobs, he spends all his focus on yelling at aang, throwing him to the ground, more furious than we have ever seen him. and in a way, it's clear that he's also furious at himself, for having let his guard down around and trusted aang, and for his failure to perform his primary duty, protecting his sister. the fulcrum of aang and sokka's relationship is, necessarily, katara. she is the force that brings them together, and the person who is most important to either of them, but she also person who connects them in her mind, and so our perceptions of them as the audience are primarily informed by her perception of them as the narrator.

moreover, sokka's advocacy for killing zuko (in "the siege of the north") and ozai (in "sozin's comet") constitute two more fascinating scenes with aang, for the way in which sokka does not even find the act of killing something to flinch at, let alone an absolute betrayal of core principles and values the way aang does. killing is simply not something sokka feels guilty about, despite the fact that he seems to carry guilt over simply existing a lot of the time. and that juxtaposition, between aang and sokka playing together, of sokka learning how to have fun and entertain his little friend, versus sokka chastising aang for refusing to commit murder, is what makes their relationship so compelling. when people reduce their dynamic to its most comedic and innocent mode, they are reducing their roles as they embody two opposing relationships to violence, and how that reflects their ideological positions as someone who has subscribed to imperialist logic insofar as his values have been shaped by war, as opposed to someone who knows through his own experiences to refute that logic by any means necessary. when we talk about aang helping sokka to regain his humanity, it is crucial to understand specifically how sokka lost his humanity in the first place, but also why aang specifically is so crucial in counterbalancing his logic in a way no one else alive actually can.

ultimately, if sokka represents the voluntary auto-dehumanization of the colonized subject, then aang represents the potential of preservation and even reclamation of humanity and the imaginative potential of a world[view] beyond those colonial limits. their ideological conflict is not simply one of what it means to be human within a colonized paradigm, but what it means to exist at all.