#( i don't know where this came from )

[sugarlywhispers]

the sudden thought of bakugou katsuki sending an audio to his s/o while at the gym, where he speaks IN BETWEEN GASPS AND GRUNTS AND EVEN GROWLS BECAUSE OF THE AMOUNT OF WEIGHT HE'S LIFTING WHILE ALSO TALKING ABOUT WHAT YOU WOULD LIKE FOR DINNER AND SUGGESTING MEALS OR PLEACES TO GO IF YOU WANT AND THEN HE SAYS, "Ugh... whatever you... mmh... want, baby, it's yours..." AND HE EXHALES FUCKING SEXILY AS THE SOUND OF THE WEIGHT DROPPING IS HEARD.

— I'M DYING HELP.

[patolemus]

There’s just something about Stiles being so unflinchingly violent if it’s to protect Derek, of him having vivid fantasies about bashing his bat against Kate’s pretty blonde hair until her brain splatters across the room, about cutting Jennifer’s tongue and arms off so she can’t spell or touch Derek ever again, about lighting Gerard on fire and ripping Kali’s head off her shoulders...

[toshidou]

𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝟏𝟖+

currently thinking about how much Logan loves teasing you just so he can smell the way it affects you; touching your inner thigh under the table mid-mission briefing, catching your waist to whisper utterly debauched things into your ear as he passes you on the corridor of the mansion.

all so he can watch the way your pupils blow out, irises engulfed in black, and a second later it always hits. the smell of you, sweet, rich, and heady, so strong he can almost taste it.

he knows how much it riles you up, knows you're only able to focus on him for the rest of the day, too far gone to think about anything other than the crooned promises of absolute filth he pressed to your temple hours prior.

it's the ultimate possession, knowing with absolute certainty that the only words rattling around your skull are his, knowing it's only a matter of time until you have no choice but to track him down, stalking across the mansion until you corner him in his room.

of course he could smell you coming several doors down, waiting for you with a raised eyebrow and cocky smirk you want to kiss clean off from where he resides, sat at his desk.

"you're cruel, Logan."

you'd hiss, fingers curled into tight fists against your side, nails pressing so hard into the flesh of your palms they'll leave red crescent indents embossed into your skin. he'd laugh, the sound all smoke and crackling embers, thighs spread over worn oak chair legs as he leans forward, lit cigar hanging from his fingers.

"sure. but you're wet."

[sassypantsjaxon]

Monoma: Well well well, if it isn't class A

Monona: *continues to deride class A*

Monona *down bad*: Except for you Shinsou, you're doing amazing sweetie

Shinsou *down just as bad*: thank.

[vilkalizer]

[sassypossumm]

Stress Relief

Slightly smutty angsty/domestic 'stress relief' with Miguel... I have no idea where I got this from, but enjoy!!!

Miguel has been really stressed out. When isn't he stressed out, honestly, but he's been especially stressed out lately.

On the rare occasions he comes home, it's for nothing more than to grab a stale cup of coffee or a quick shower. It's obviously wearing on him, and you know he's beating himself up for how little time you've spent together.

The last straw comes when you come home to find him half dead on his feet, stuffing a stale Danish into his mouth. His exhausted features soften when he sees you, but his gizmo beeps and he yet again dashes through a portal with a rushed apology and peck on the cheek.

"Enough is enough." You grumble as a plan begins forming in your mind. Two weeks and several phoned in bribes later, Miguel is actually home. For an entire evening. And you'd be giddy with excitement if he weren't constantly checking his gizmo throughout dinner. And you'd gone to the trouble of making his favorite, Peppered Salmon and New Potatoes Au Grautin.

"Babe..." You tried to get his attention, putting down your fork. Miguel simply hummed. Your eye twitched and you took a steadying breath to keep from wringing his neck. "Your foods getting cold." Miguel flashes you an apologetic look and takes a bite, humming around the mouthful.

"Lo siento, mi vida." He mutters, taking another bite before looking back at his gizmo. You're not amused. Throwing down your fork with a huff, you stand and round the table, standing in front of him, hands on hips. "Nena, por favor. Just another minute,"

"You've been saying that for two hours, Miguel." His eyes snap up at your sharp tone, and he opens his mouth ready to protest when he takes in your stiff posture. Instantly his heart melts and he reaches for you.

"Aye, lo siento," His tone is soft, but you're not having it.

"You've been saying that for the last two hours too." His eyes widen at your tone, and he opens his mouth again, only to be met with your tongue bullying its way into his mouth, as you launch yourself into his arms. His sounds of surprise devolve into a practically depraved moan as he claws you closer, cradling you against his chest.

"Amor," He murmurs, leaving frantic open mouthed kisses down your neck. You rake shaky fingers through his hair, before remembering your irritation and tugging roughly at his hair. "Shock!" He hisses, jerking back to glare at you. "Para que era eso?!" You shift off his lap, and meet his glare with one of your own. Still stunned, he fails to notice you sinking to the floor between his thighs until you push as his thighs to make room to work. His attention flits to your position, and his anger melts into confusion. "Y/N,"

"I go to the trouble of bribing my way into a few hours with you, just a few hours." You growl, roughly unbuckling his belt. Miguel's eyebrows raise.

"You did what?" His words might as well have been back ground noise to you, as you grumbled under your breath, tugging at his zipper. Miguel's mouth went dry as he lifted his hips to let you all but yank his pants and boxers down. He watched you dumbly, as you looked at his cock in irritation before meeting his eyes, and his heart clenched at the hurt he saw.

"Do you think I like seeing you do this to yourself?" Your voice is sharp and you quickly sniff to keep from crying.

"Amor..." He whispers, trying to touch your cheek, but you bat his hand away and rest your hands on his thighs, rubbing at the hair on his corded thigh.

"I spent all afternoon making your favorite meal...and you've hardly taken three bites." Your attention shifts to his neglected cock, and you stroke it softly once. It twitches in response to your touch. You'd once quipped about his cock being 'touch interactive' but right now the thought soured in your mouth. Your brows pinch together and you again fix Miguel with an irritated glare.

"I wanted to make tonight special. Wanted to spoil you, get you to relax." You look longingly at his cock again, noticing it's slow awakening. "I adore you, and you are hellbent determined to neglect yourself." His large, warm hand cups your cheek, and you sniff as he guides your face up to meet his.

"Te amo." He whispers softly, running his thumb under your eye, catching a stray tear. You open your mouth to speak but he shakes his head and places his thumb over your lips. "My turn." He says in the firm tone that sends tingles of pleasure down your spine even now. "You're right." He continues, surprising you, but it's what he says next that has you soaking. "And I'm sorry." You whimper, and his heart clenches.

"Miggy." Your defenses fall and you reach for him, irritation melting away, leaving you with only thr base instinct to feel him.

"Bebita." He growls gently. "Come here." You squeak as he pulls you roughly into his arms and licks his way into your mouth, pinning down your tongue with his own. You grip at his arms and shudder, trying and failing to catch your breath as your head grows fuzzy.

"I wanted to worship you." Your voice comes out a whispy thing against his lips drawing a primal groan from his chest as he sucks at your pulse before standing and hoisting you into his arms. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you feel his hardness poke against your ass as he strides to the bedroom.

"You can worship me all you want, bebita." He growls, biting your neck as he kicks the door shut. Throwing you on thr bed, he quickly shedding his shirt before climbing on top of you possessively. "After all, we've got all night."

[sinsmockingbird]

Thinking about women who are completely obsessed with you and adore you. They're powerful women in their own ways, having girls flirt with them only for them to get rejected. She never wanted a relationship, seeing it as pointless, until she met you.

You treat her horribly, however, simply using her for her money and for pleasure in many ways. You'll act like you love her for a moment before pretending like she doesn't exist. It leaves her heartbroken every time, and yet she's crawling to you like your her lifeline, still hopeful that you do actually love her.

You can ghost her for several days, leaving her to fear that she did something wrong and that she pushed you away. Except you'll text her randomly like you had been talking the whole time, letting her feel relieved and have her doing whatever she can to please you to make sure you don't leave again.

It's just a repeating loop, like the snake eating its own tail.

[soft-edging-kittens]

An older woman catching me peeping at them showering and telling me to cum would fix me

[jamiesfootball]

The most specific way I can think of to describe Dr. Jacob is that he's the sort of person who impulse bought a Traeger grill and then got frustrated when it turned out that the food took longer to cook than on a regular grill. He used it twice, and now he brags to people about how those things don't work *that* good

Meanwhile Ted's the kind of guy who fretted over whether he should by a Traeger, bought an Egg instead because he thought it looked easier, then read the instructions and realized he was in over his head. He called Beard for help.

Meanwhile between stripping and meth, Beard went through a phase where he built his own smoker out of retrofitted barrels and parts of an old wheelbarrow. He entered some competitions, but was ultimately kicked out of the Kansas City Barbeque Society for preferring Carolina-style sauces too vocally.

[toomuchracket]

mads i can’t stop thinking abt the dildo mould of his dick and matty sitting behind her and fucking her with it in front of a mirror and he’s whispering in her ear and

"look, princess, look how i'm fucking you. watch closely, yeah? watch how daddy fucks you, so you know what to do when you're needy and i'm not here. but knowing you... you're always needy for me, aren't you, my beautiful girl? wouldn't be surprised if you kept this inside you all the time when i'm away. s'the first thing i'm doing when i come back, princess, fucking you full of me and staying inside you for as long as i can, letting you keep me warm. well, it's the second thing, to be honest - need to get my mouth on that pretty pussy of yours first, fucking obsessed with it. fucking obsessed with YOU, perfect girl. i love you. will you be a good girl and cum for daddy, princess?"

[cinnamon-flame]

I had this need to draw the gang in random sweaters, so here they are.

[14muffinz]

FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION: WEBBY, LENA, AND VIOLET WITH CALAMITY POWERS

[epsilon-13]

I want a time travel au where Yoda is a time traveled Grogu that just wants to see his buir again, but accidentally went too far back.

The whole Yoda's swamp stew is because Mando never taught Grogu how to cook, and he just throws together what he likes to eat in water(?); in other words frogs, lizards, and/or anything that moves and can fit into his mouth.

With an au that branches off where Mando also time travels(but closer to Canon than Grogu somehow), and everyone in the order is confused on why there's a Mandalorian hugging or even scolding the Grandmaster of the Order like a parent.

[makiiato]

abandoned croissant in the parking lot outside my job

[fingerless-glovez]

Random thought that just came to me while cutting out patterns: If Floyd were to nickname someone "Sharkbait" Jade would say "Sharkbait, ooh ha ha" under his breath every time somebody says it

[fairy-verse]

I would love to dance with the firstborn fairy of winter, error himself.

I actually love the snow, gives off a nostalgic feeling, and the cold is my favourite, even if im born in spring. So, dancing in the snow? May i have the pleausure? If I may have their permission, of course. 🫴

How sweet of you to ask, dearest Anon. Perhaps you may be lucky to have the chance and dance with the queen of winter himself. Perhaps Error may hold about your waist to keep you close as his other hand tenderly grasps your own, pulling you in for a slow and graceful dance in the light downfall of powdery snow, the stars barely visible through brief windows in the clouds up above. Perhaps he flies higher and higher, making the world down below seem so small and insignificant, all its troubles and sorrows unimportant.

Perhaps your joy turns to ice in your veins as Error smiles down at you with satisfaction and the likes of the frozen waste, caring not as he lets you go only to watch in silence as you fall. Perhaps… seeing the way the light of the stars glimmers in the colours of his wings was as beautiful a sight as life itself. Perhaps your fall will not end in death, but instead, a jostle as you fall from your bed, the chill of the late winter’s night prickling your skin and reminding you of where you are, now awake, and with the memories of a beautiful dream slowly fading away into nothingness with only its feeling remaining in your heart.