#idk if i've done this before

[beets]

baby, bi bi bi

[wriothesleybear]

Imagine giving your boyfriend, Dr. Ratio a rubber duck that looks like him as a joke. He does make a comment saying it's idiotic, but he actually keeps it in his bathtub. Every time he looks at it while he's bathing, it makes him feel a warmth in his chest because it's a personalized gift you got just for him. You notice it hanging on the side of the tub the next time you bathe with him and tease him for it. "Hm. I guess it wasn't that idiotic of a present since you kept it in one of your most sacred places." He just ignores your teasing and continues reading his book.

The next time you two decided to take a bath together to relax, you notice another rubber duckie next to the one you gifted him and it looks just like you. You make a comment on it and he's nonchalant about it. His reasoning being "It seemed fitting that you should have one as well since we usually bathe together". All you can do is blush, taken by surprise from his words. He notices this and smirks. "What's wrong dear? Too shy to give one of your teasing remark?" All you can do is look away, moving back to lay on his chest. You quietly say, "It's cute." He slightly chuckles, a fond look graces his features. He wraps his arm around you, bringing you closer into him and rests his face into your hair, leaving a faint kiss to the crown of your head.

[daisynik7]

Men who are just too fucking tired. 

He comes home, shoulders hunched as he shuffles through the front door, eyes bloodshot and heavy from exhaustion. He sees you beaming at him, uplifting his spirit just enough to return a weak smile as he presses a kiss to your lips. It’s in the croak in his throat, the lack of spring in his step, the way he slumps into your embrace, in desperate need for a fucking break.

You’d do anything for your man, and right now, you don’t want him to think anymore. You want to empty his brains, clear his mind of stress, ease the worries out of his otherwise strong and sturdy body that’s been withered down mentally. He doesn’t say it explicitly, but you know he wants it. He needs it. 

So, you give it to him. You take control tonight, leading him into the bedroom, coaxing him to relax against the pillows while you do all the work. He could fall asleep this instant if it wasn’t for his pretty plaything performing a private striptease for him. It gives him life to see you naked at the foot of the bed, nipples peaked, eyes wide with lust, removing his own clothes now. You tease the erection growing in his boxers as you shimmy his pants off, palm brushing against the bulge. He sucks in a breath, heart racing with anticipation and excitement, lifting his arms to help you hoist his shirt off. He pulls you in for a kiss, languid and sloppy, letting you explore his mouth. And he doesn’t say it. He doesn’t have to it, especially when his fingers toy with your throbbing clit. He wants a taste of you. That’s what he craves the most when he’s tired like this. 

You straddle his face, lowering yourself slowly until your pussy meets his mouth, his tongue quick to swirl around your clit. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t need to. He likes savoring you like this. Doesn’t have to think about anything else, just his lips on this sweet cunt of yours. And when it begins to be too much for you, he can’t help but smile, finding the smallest boost of energy to squeeze your ass cheeks and bounce you on his face as you approach your orgasm. 

He watches you carefully as you slide down his body, sinking onto his hard cock. He moans, low and guttural, when you rock your hips back and forth on his lap, riding him. The tension in his body has faded, and all he can think about now is how fucking good you feel around him. With his eyes closed, getting lost in the pleasure, he whimpers, “Please.” 

He’s too cute, begging like this. And you don’t have the heart to tease him, something you might do if you were feeling particularly naughty. No, right now, you’re going to give him exactly what he wants, what he needs. You throw your ass back, swallowing his entire length with each stroke, waiting for that euphoric sensation of his cock pulsing inside you, shooting his hot load deep into your womb. 

He's completely drained now as he reaches his arms towards you, what little energy he has left reserved to cuddling you lovingly until he falls asleep, finally at peace. 

Shouta Aizawa, Choso Kamo, Detective Tsukauchi, Kishibe, Levi Ackerman, Nanami Kento, Reiner Braun + your favorite tired man who needs a fucking break

[gaylightisminetocommand]

ToA Wizards textposts I've had for like nine months but never bothered to post until now :) part 1 | part 2 | part 3

[altruistic-meme]

soukoku and text posts 🖤🖤

bonus:

[beanbeanbee]

Happy (unofficial) birthday, Murasaki!!! 🎉

[deoidesign]

My comic is so pretty...

The hiatus is letting me take a little extra time on these episodes, and I'm definitely putting it to good use!!!

[trans-cuchulainn]

favourite Irish phrase I've learned from reading books is "beidh ár bport seinnte" (or tá, depending on how hypothetical the situation is). our tune is played, lads. it's over.

[amelia-yap]

AUEGH

[upperranktwo]

☆Orihime Inoue☆

Happy Birthday Nada ♡ @shinixgami

[elenas]

Àstrid Bergès-Frisbey as SYRENA in Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides GIF PACK

· by clicking the source link found below , you will 64 medium sized gifs (268 x 200) of Àstrid Bergès-Frisbey as SYRENA in Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides. All made by me from scratch. Please don’t repost and/or claim as your own. If you found these useful, please like or reblog.

[edward-little]

first i was just trying to get the fuck outta there. and after we got away i've just been dealing with him.

[devildarlindumbass]

Fucked up dog

[myhamartiaishubris]

The Acolyte and half•alive lyrics

everything machine // subliminal // creature // the fall

gifs by @oshamirs (full gifset here)

[peninkwrites]

Remember that you have to try.

Screenshots of despair + Sad-ist

[yesokayiknow]

okay so you know how it goes: fourteen comes to life in thirteen's clothes. and they're both too short and too loose and entirely too bright for his frame of mind. they worked with a doctor who hid everything behind a too wide smile; not so much with a doctor whose pain and tiredness is written across his face

he needs to change. obviously

and then the star beast starts, and fourteen leaves the tardis, and he's still in thirteen's clothes

he just. he doesn't know. how does he choose new clothes? he feels wrong. how will wearing something else change that?

(donna tells him that it's christmas, mate; it's bloody freezing. maybe wear longer trousers, yeah? also he's both too young and too old to wear braces. just a friendly note)

he doesn't have to explain who he is to the unit scientist, not with those clothes. instead he talks about how he doesn't understand why he looks like this. why he is this. why this face? why isn't he someone new?

actually. maybe he is someone new. was he ever this open before? hm

why do you look like that, sylvia hisses, trying to hide him from the daughter he destroyed ruined left

it's a lottery, he replies, purposely ignorant

he still has his thirteenth self's screwdriver. it's too small in his hands

(the whole time they were her, her hands were too small. she didn't like touching anyway, but whenever someone took her hand, it felt wrong. they were too small. sometimes it felt like if she worked fast enough, tinkered about without stopping, she wouldn't have to look at them)

everything goes wrong. his fault, like always

(blimey. of all the things to carry over from the first time he had this face, it had to be the guilt, didn't it?)

you shouldn't look like that, the doctordonna says, and he runs a hand down his face with a tired laugh

no, the doctordonna says, not the face. a hand reaches out to grasp at the collar of his shirt, at the dangling earring chain. this isn't you. who are you, doctor?

like he knows. like they've ever-

she dies.

she lives. he doesn't deserve it. it isn't about him. he still doesn't deserve it

we're letting it go, donna says, and he looks down at himself, at another him's clothes, another him's screwdriver

well, she never was subtle, his donna

the tardis is gorgeous, though when isn't she. he tries to show off his new console to donna, and she rolls her eyes, and drags him off to the wardrobe

unlike normally, where all the clothes are scattered about, the new tardis wardrobe now also has a line of wardrobes stood against the wall. fifteen of them, to be exact

the last wardrobe is open. and empty

he goes to the second to last, and opens it to reveal a wide array of rainbow patterned shirts. she probably would've hated for her things to be organised like this. always creating mess so she wouldn't have to think about anything important. he laughs. and he takes off the sky coloured coat and the worn boots and the earrings and gently places them inside. tag, he thinks, as he closes the doors

and then he moves down to the eleventh wardrobe, full of brown coats and blue suits and neatly pressed shirts and pairs of converse. and he stands in front of it. and he wonders

after a moment, donna's like wait do you want me to leave?? you never cared about nudity before, did you? and he's like oh actually i do feel more self conscious. huh. weird.

he doesn't have to say, i think i'm a different person. not to donna. she just gives him a smile, and a shoulder nudge, and tells him she'll see him in the console room

the last wardrobe is empty

he takes a breath, and then goes to rummage about in the rest of the clothes