#( i have no idea what this is )

[th3ink]

Based on this tweet that Gooseworx made and The reason why everyone is drawing as fast as they can.

[rafey-baby]

c/w: yoga instructor!rafe being touchy and suggestive (is he even talking about yoga atp?)

wc: 890

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Thinking thoughts about yoga instructor!rafe who’s always correcting clumsy!reader’s posture with a warm palm on her waist. Pushing her forward with a soft press of his big hand against her back; tapping her thigh to get her to switch into a better position.

Heady breaths tickling her ear when he mumbles out advice on how to get the stretch to feel deeper, murmuring soft words of encouragement in a certain cadence that makes her tingle, something profound in her tummy flutter.  

He’d mumble out insane things that never fail to make her brain short-circuit.  

“This one’s a bit of a harder one but I know you can take it, yeah?”  

“Shit, you’re getting so good at this.”  

“You feel that?” 

She signed up for the yoga class in order to help her achy muscles relax a bit, not expecting the instructor to be so…hot (for the lack of better words). Therefore, she can’t possibly focus her attention on his directions since all she can concentrate on is the way his muscles ripple under his shirt and his beefy forearms flex whenever he’d demonstrate a new pose with sweat glittering on his forehead.  

He’d make rounds around class and help everyone get their form right and whenever he’d get to her his hands would always linger for longer than necessary, making her assume she simply needed more assistance since she hadn’t really been paying attention when he was explaining it at the front.  

“Clumsy little thing, huh?” He’d playfully mock her when the minute his hands weren’t supporting her, she’d stumble on her feet.  

Then one day after class when nearly everyone’s left and there’s only a few people loitering around, gathering their things, Rafe pads over to her. 

She’s in the midst of taking a sip from her water bottle and his tall frame approaching her makes her look up; he’s clad in a black pair of workout shorts and a dark grey t shirt. Her gaze stalls on the way his tongue pokes out to lick over his pillowy lips.  

“Hey, so I thought I could go over that one pose with you one more time. Just so you really get it for next time, yeah?” He suggests, merely wanting to help out the poor girl who’s always struggling in the back of his class.  

“Oh, um— sure,” she answers, embarrassment painting over her features because she knows exactly what he’s referring to; a specific position where she had toppled over and hit the floor, making Rafe’s eyes widen in concern and the other people around her gasp and ask if she was okay.  

It didn’t really even hurt that much, she thinks. At least not as much as her flimsy ego that got bruised up in the midst of it all, trying to cover up how humiliated she had felt with a small laugh, climbing back up to stand on wobbly legs accompanied by a flushed face.   

At this point they’re the only people left and she suddenly feels all too nervous because she’s never been alone with him before. Her inhales and exhales are turning labored, intractable. And she’s not sure whether her clamorous respiration is echoing in the empty room or in the empty halls of her mind. She mentally crosses her fingers and wishes it’s the latter, stepping on top of her shamrock-colored yoga mat.  

“So, what you wanna do is concentrate your weight on this leg, so you don’t lose your balance,” he taps her right thigh and she nearly stumbles on her feet once again; the corners of his mouth tugging up. “And then bend the other one right here, you think you can do that?”  

“Mhm,” she hums as she moves her limbs in the way he’s patiently instructing her to.  

“Just like that,” blue hydrangea eyes are glued to her, making her think he can read right through her as she swallows at the praise.  

“Then, you gotta lean your weight here,” he settles a hearty hand on her right upper arm, thumb mindlessly skating over her burning skin as she does just that.  

“There you go, Bambi,” he murmurs and a pomegranate tinge blushes over her cheeks at the nickname, rounded eyes trying to blink away the haze that clouds over them.  

“You feel it here?” His fingertips graze over her inner thigh and she manages a nod, limbs feeling mellow and spongy all of a sudden. 

“Good, good,” he breathes out and her brain turns into a knotted ball of wool at his intoxicating proximity.  

“And if you ever feel like you’re gonna fall, just focus on a specific spot on the floor or the wall or anything, it’ll help, alright?” The words sound almost gravelly when he rasps them out as his palms rest on her waist, strong arms steadying her.  

“Okay…thanks,” she manages out, sucking in some air her lungs are screaming for since apparently, she’s forgotten how important breathing is.  

He then pushes her forward a little, making her let out a small noise from the back of her throat in surprise. The sudden stretch of the position she’s now in making her gasp.  

“I know, feels good, huh?”  

“Uh— yeah,” she squeaks out, feeling the cotton material of her panties dampening at the way he’s speaking to her; her thoughts turning into something indecent, muddy...

[gojoest]

it’s 7:45am and in less than an hour satoru is supposed to leave town for a few days. but for the past 30 mins he’s been dramatically sloth hugging you in bed— chest glued to your back, face hidden in the crook of your neck from behind, and hands tightly circled around your waist. even his legs are carefully wrapped around your lower body. and if you just relax and stop moving around in attempts to break away and leave the bed (it’s all in vain anyway), you can almost feel his heartbeat as your own. it’s calm and slow but quickens like crazy the moment you try to pull away from him. it’s like his whole body is trained to be dramatic when you’re not around.

he inhales the scent of you deep into his lungs one more time, like it’s his last breath or something. says it makes your scent linger in his nostrils and he loves that. it’s like you’re with him even when you’re not.

“i’ll miss you”, he pouts.

“satoru.. it’s just 2 days”, you sigh and roll your eyes.

“that’s a lot of days without you”, he pulls you closer, or tries to at least, but quickly realizes he’s only squishing you in his arms and his grip immediately loosens. a bit but not too much and you still can’t move an inch away.

“we’ll talk and text plenty”

“can’t hug you like that through the phone”

“don’t anyway. you’re suffocating me”

“no. i can only breathe when i hold you like this. deal with it”

“stop stealing my oxygen, idiot. i will die”

“i’ll let you live if you come with me, meanie”

“as if”

[teeething]

he's a simple guy actually 🍆🍆! Stay tuned for PART 2...

[xothatnerdykid]

Aizawa x Reader Established Relationship Headcanons

(Cannot, for the life of me, get over my writer's block but I've still got Aizawa brainrot thanks to s7 so here.)

I might be in the minority here but I don't think Aizawa would smoke. He eats healthy and works out to keep his body in shape. Why would he compromise his health by smoking?

His only vices are chronic snacking (he loves those jelly pouch things) and caffeine.

He's usually up 'til dawn most days because duh, he works two jobs (hence the 5-7 shots of espresso in his coffee). 

Despite his sleep deprivation most days, he is soooo sexy when he wakes up in the morning. Messy hair. Baggy shirt and boxers. Or sometimes a body hugging tank top and sweatpants. And his voice — his raspy, sleep-addled voice. The feeling of his stubble against the smooth planes of your face waking you up. 

He doesn’t usually cook breakfast but he does always brew a fresh pot of coffee for you. And he never leaves without a kiss goodbye, even when you’re still snuggled up in bed, asleep.

When you first start dating, Shouta talks to you pretty much the same way he talks to everyone else. So curt and succinct, you sometimes used to wonder if he was upset with you. He’d usually get confused as to what made you ask that, and then explained that he’s just a man of a few words, that’s all. 

As your relationship becomes more established, you notice subtle shifts in the way he communicates. It's not a sudden change, but your conversations start to feel more like a secret code over time, filled with inside jokes that never fail to make him smirk.

Shouta’s love language is definitely acts of service. He’s a pragmatic, action-oriented person who values efficiency. So of course he’d think that actions speak louder than words when it comes to letting someone know your true feelings. 

That’s why he loves it when he comes home to your cooking, especially when you surprise him with his favorite dish. Because after 16-hours or so of working two jobs, he usually just passes out on the couch the moment he gets home and you’re not around.

He feels so bad when he comes home too late sometimes and finds you already asleep and his dinner sitting cold on the stovetop or in the fridge. He always makes sure to make it up to you by preparing breakfast the next day or…other…pleasing ways…

Seeing you take care of Sushi, the cat his very-well-and-alive friend Nemuri sometimes asks him to babysit, makes him feel all warm inside, too (although he doesn’t actually admit it, you just catch him smiling softly at you sometimes and quickly looking away when you notice).

As for how he expresses his love for you, it mostly comes in the form of acts of service, too, as well as gifts and physical touch.

Shouta’s romantic gestures are like rare collectibles. They often come as a surprise, but when they happen, you cherish them dearly. He'll surprise you with a thoughtful gift and leave it on your desk with a simple, "Saw this and thought of you."

He won't serenade you under the moonlight or anything, but he'll make you a warm cup of tea when you're tired, or wrap a scarf around you when it's cold.

You don't really have time to go out on dates most weeks, but when you do, you're either at a quiet restaurant or taking a walk through nature in the parks. 

His favorite thing to do is sit with you by the window sill on rainy days and just have you snuggle up to him, bundled in his arms, while you read or do your own thing in comfortable silence.

Fighting with Shouta was like having a verbal sparring match. He’s always strategic, although his patience wears thin sometimes, even with you. Still, he knew when to bring something up and when to back down. 

He won't shy away from a disagreement, but he's not one to let it linger. He’ll tackle the issue head-on, find a compromise, and move on.

One of your favorite things about him was that he never held a grudge or took conflicts personally.  

Shouta’s life is a constant juggle between being a pro hero, a UA teacher, a single dad, and being your boyfriend. But oh, does he master it.

At first you thought maybe he was just a really efficient and organized planner, but one look at him, his apartment, his phone, and his non-existent planner told you otherwise.

“How do you plan on getting all of this done?” You often ask him about his mountain of papers to grade and reports to submit, to which he just shrugs.

“I don’t know, the usual? Coffee. Eye drops.” He sucks on his second jelly pouch of the day and goes back to his cluttered desk, papers strewn about like fallen leaves. "Duct taping my eyelids," he grumbles the last part under his breath.

You laugh, watching him from the couch with a fond look in your eyes. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

He looks up, one eyebrow raised. “For what? Managing to stay awake?”

“For…everything,” you shrug, walking over to perch yourself atop the edge of his desk. “For being you.”

He hums appreciatively as he pulls you closer by the waist.

“I don’t know how you do it, but I’m grateful.”

He glances up at you, smiling a little. You scratch at the stubble on his chin. 

“Ready to call it a night?”

“Not quite,” he smirks before leaning up to kiss you fervently, tangling his hands in your hair.

Both of you slept better than you have all week. Afterwards.

You occasionally surprise him by finding him when he’s out on patrol and checking up on him. You love seeing him like this, in his element. He’s so kind to all the people he helps…

(A lot of the time, you end up making out against an alleyway or with him hanging upside down from a fire escape, but that’s neither here nor there.) 

[jkvjimin]

seven days a week; jungkook's birthday countdown ↳ wed: one special live from 2023

[faramirsonofgondor]

Remember how in the earlier seasons (I forget which episode) Dean told Cas that humans lie all the time when they want something really bad and Cas was like “But why tho?” and Dean was just like “Cause that’s how you become President.” Like imagine Cas just taking that statement and rolling with it and now everytime he or someone else catches Dean in a lie, in his mind Cas is like “wow he’s getting really close to being President. I wonder how many more lies he has to tell before he qualifies.” And then one day the rest of TFW catches Dean in a big lie and Cas is just like “So are you President now… or????” and everyone else is just like “wtf????” while Dean blue screens into the distance.

[blitzwhore]

Thinking about this moment again—

—and imagining what would happen if Blitz was badly hurt by a Goetia here. Maybe Blitz jumping in is just enough of a distraction that either Stolas or possibly Octavia (arriving at the scene just in time) are able to jump into action and get them both out of there through a portal, but not before Blitz is attacked and severely injured.

Thinking about Stolas rushing Blitz to a hospital, holding him desperately close as Blitz bleeds out in his arms. Thinking of Blitz being unable to speak, quickly losing consciousness; about Blitz feeling content and lucky that he gets to go in Stolas' arms, but remorseful that he didn't get to tell Stolas how he really felt before he died. Meanwhile, Stolas is moving heaven an earth for Blitz to be seen and treated immediately, only half-realising that his privilege as a Goetia might be the only thing standing between Blitz and death.

Thinking about Stolas in the aftermath, once the worst of it has passed. Blitz is alive, but still in critical condition, and is unconscious on the hospital bed. And as the hours go by Stolas wonders if he should leave, but he can't, because Blitz came back, Blitz saved him, despite it being a death sentence for him to do so. He can't go now. He can't leave Blitz's side.

Thinking, too, of Stolas, who has previously been at a party full of people dedicated to hating Blitz, now seeing the hospital room slowly fill with people who love Blitz.

His employees, Moxxie and Millie. They sit by his side for hours, whispering amongst themselves and occasionally talking to Blitz, updating him on their lives. Millie holds Blitz's hand in hers; Moxxie alphabetises all the gifts Blitz gets because he knows Blitz likes things organised that way. There's a lot of gifts in the 'H' section, of course.

Fizzarolli, who could never make the same mistake again and not visit his injured best friend at the hospital; and Ozzie, too, who is there not just to keep Fizz company but also because he cares about Blitz, because he knows just how much Blitz and Fizz mean to one another.

And Loona.

She's so quiet. She never speaks to anyone, mostly just scrolling on her phone, and barely ever leaves Blitz's side, not even during the night. Stolas doesn't know why; he doesn't know that Loona made a promise that she wouldn't let her dad die alone, doesn't know that he's all she has in this world and she needs him and she's scared, even if she would never admit it. But he can see that she loves him. That she cares.

Thinking about Stolas getting to see the other half of Blitz's rocky history with relationships. Getting to see all the people who care, who worry, who are thankful and loyal to Blitz, who couldn't bear to lose him. And thinking of Stolas realising that, just as he's far from the only one whose heart Blitz has broken, he is also not the only one who has felt awakened, embraced, seen, and freed because Blitz came into his life. He's not the only one whose life Blitz has saved.

Thinking of Stolas finally seeing the pattern. Finally understanding that Blitz keeps changing others' lives for the better, and being too blinded by his own self-hatred to realise it himself.

And thinking of Stolas maybe, just maybe, falling a little bit more in love with Blitz by seeing him through the eyes of every other person who has grown to love him. Of Stolas impatiently waiting for Blitz to wake up so he can join everyone else in loving Blitz the way he deserves to be loved.

[lackadaisicallizard]

Nicknames

“Can you pass me that book?” Regulus points to the text sitting next to James. 

“Are we going to do anything more interesting today?” James’ voice is bordering on whiney as he passes it across the table. 

“I told you I was studying. You were the one that decided to grace me with your ever annoying presence.” He opens the book and starts flipping through the pages. 

“You know you love it,” James’ teasing tone isn’t at all subtle. 

They’ve been playing this game for months now. The game where James flirts overtly and Regulus pretends that he doesn’t flirt back. Where they find excuses to spend time together. Where Regulus lets James interrupt his study session when it’s very clear he has no intention of letting him actually study. 

“Come on!” There’s no reply from the younger boy who would look entirely indifferent if it wasn’t for the small crease between his brows that indicates that he’s not doing a very good job at blocking James out. “Reggie.” 

He looks up then, eyebrows now knitted into a thick line. “No.” 

A smirk. “What?” 

“You are not calling me Reggie.” 

“Why? Sirius does.” 

“Sirius is my brother and incredibly annoying.” 

James’ smirk turns into a grin. “Oh so you don’t find me annoying then?” 

“I told you I did less than thirty seconds ago.” 

“You’re such a bad liar.” 

Regulus rolls his eyes in the way that makes James’ stomach do a little flip and goes back to ‘ignoring’ him. 

James is silent for approximately five seconds. “You can give me a nickname if you’d like.” 

“I’m good, thanks.” 

“Seriously, you can call me whatever you want.” 

“Noted.” 

“You can even call me tonight if you like.” 

That stops him. It also makes him look up and meet James’ eyes. “Really, Potter?” 

James raises his eyebrows, smiling again. “Didn’t like that one?” 

“You’re a walking, cliche.” 

James laughs. “So is that a no to the nickname then?”

A pause. “I’ll think about it.” 

— 

A week later and James walks into the Slytherin common room. 

“Potter, to what do we owe this honour?” Barty asks, not even bothering to get up from where’s he’s laying across Evan’s lap on one of the sofas, spinning his wand between his fingers. 

Pandora is reading cross legged in an armchair and looks up with a warm smile that contrasts her brother’s suspicious one. 

“Hi guys. Have you seen Regulus?” 

“Let him out of your sight for once, huh?” Evan asks with raised eyebrows. 

“Yes. Well, no- I mean. He’s not always-“ 

“Eloquent as ever, I see,” Barty laughs and Pandora shushes him. 

“Oh stop it you two,” she looks at James, “he’s upstairs. Sometimes he needs to escape from these idiots.” 

She shushes them again as they start to argue and they settle back down with a grumble. 

James nods. “Right, well do you think he’d mind if I drop something to him? I accidentally took his quill from the library the other day and I’m not sure I want to find out what happens if he thinks I stole it.” 

Evan shrugs. “He’s your boyfriend, Potter. Do what you want.” 

Everything stops. 

James can hear his heart beating in his ears. 

Pandora’s smile has dropped. “Are you okay James?” 

James takes a deep breath and nods his head, blinking so the room starts moving again. “Yep, all good. I’ll go deliver this quill to my… boyfriend.” 

The word comes out slowly as James gauges their reactions, waiting for one of them to laugh at him, to laugh at their joke. 

Instead they stare at him. “Okay…” Evan says eventually. 

James doesn’t remember walking through the common room or up the stairs. He doesn’t remember knocking on Regulus’ door or opening it to find him sitting cross legged on his bed, book opened in his lap and beautiful eyes wide in surprise at the sudden intrusion. He doesn’t remember anything before the words that fall out of his mouth. 

“Why did Evan just call me your boyfriend?” 

Recognition appears in his eyes, then and his mouth curls up into a knowing smile. “You told me I could call you anything.” 

“I was talking about a nickname, Regulus.” 

“And?” 

James has to stop himself from looking at the camera that’s surely filming him right now. This can’t be an actual conversation he’s having, surely? 

“Boyfriend is not a nickname. It’s a thing.”  He moves closer to Regulus’ bed as he talks, his words faster than usual. “It’s something a person is, it’s… romantic.”

Regulus blinks before putting down his book and getting up off his bed so they’re standing across from each other. “Thank you for defining the word boyfriend, Potter. And for the clarification.” His tone is definitely sarcastic but James has no idea how to respond.

“You’re welcome,” is what comes out. James kicks himself for it. 

“So are you saying you don't want me to call you that any more?” Regulus’ facial expression seems neutral but there’s a hint of something else there. 

“No,” the word escapes before he even realises he’s said it. “I mean yes. I mean-“ he stops and takes a breath before meeting Regulus’ eyes. They’re softer than usual. “Are you sure?” 

Regulus hums before he smiles and takes a step forward, reaching out to place his hand on James’ cheek and momentarily causing him to stop breathing. “It suits you, you know? Your new nickname, I mean.” 

James lets out a noise that sounds startlingly close to impatience before he finds himself leaning in, and then Regulus’ lips are on his and his hands are in his hair and he forgets any name he’s ever had for a second, a minute, an hour, an indeterminate amount of time before they pull apart again. 

He’s smiling now as his heart beats quickly in his chest, and as the younger boy smiles right back James only has one question:

“So can I call you Reggie now?” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Oh,” James pouts and Regulus rolls his eyes before reaching down to take his hand, lacing their fingers together. 

“I guess you’ll just have to settle for boyfriend.” 

James’ eyes move from their hands to Regulus’ face. “Oh.” His voice is softer now, light. “I think I can make that work.” 

[slowandsteddie]

Eddie: “hey, Steve. When did you first know you were gay?”

Steve: “ever since I first met you.”

Eddie: “wait what. No. This wasn’t supposed to be wholesome and make me cry. I was expecting something like ‘well, have you seen Tom Cruise?’ But not this.”

Steve: “well, have you seen you? Damn. Even pretty with tears running down your face.”

They then proceed to have the sex and Eddie has more than tears on his face and neck when they are done ❤️

[andypantsx3]

A few months into your relationship, Shouto catches on to your weird behavior around his apartment.

“I don’t want to ruin anything,” you finally admit when he notes his observation—about how you tiptoe around his living room of designer furnishings, how you never seem to settle comfortably into his couch, how you carry his glassware with all the pomp and ceremony of an Olympic torch.

“They are just things. This is a home,” Shouto says, like that at all negates the fact that you could break a single one of his salad bowls and spend the rest of your life repaying the debt.

“Hella expensive things in a very nice home,” you reply. “I am not falling asleep and accidentally drooling onto your ten bajillion dollar couch, Shouto.”

Only the tiniest of creases between his brows tell you he’s displeased. “I would like you to be comfortable here. I do mean that they are just things.”

You shake your head. Shouto can be as unfussed as he wants, on his pro hero salary with his fat inheritance slapped on top like a dollop of cream on life’s richest slice of pie. But you were raised in a hand-me-down home, furniture and housewares either inherited or thrifted from generations past, and you are not about to play any kind of game that would leave his couch as worn down as your family’s ancient, squashy sofa with the tears hidden on the undersides of the cushions.

“I’m good, Sho,” you say reassuringly. “I’m just going to take my best care of your things.” You pat his couch ever so lightly for emphasis, so gently it almost doesn’t make a sound.

Shouto watches you for a long moment. His eyes pick over you carefully, and he says nothing, until finally his expression shifts. 

You watch with suspicion as his face suddenly goes meticulously blank, and you realize you know that look. It’s the perfectly unreadable poker face that almost always precedes peak little shit behavior.

“Whatever thought you are having is a million percent no from me,” you say quickly, but Shouto’s hand is already closing over your thigh, tugging you closer to him across the luxurious fabric of the very couch you have tried never to crease.

“Shouto, do not fuck with this couch,” you tell him as the material of your pants makes a fwip across the sofa fabric. Shouto arches a perfect brow at you.

“If you will not believe me that I do not care about the state of this couch,” he pronounces evenly, “then I will just have to show you.”

Before you can even demand an explanation, he’s rearranging you to his liking, stretching out over you and pressing you down into the sofa with intent. 

Then it dawns on you exactly what he’s about to do.

“Wait, Sho—the bedroom—” you garble out, as your heart rate picks up into double time under his anchoring weight.

Shouto lowers his face to yours, mismatched eyes glittering like gemstones in the low light. “We’ll get there love,” he says, his low, soft tone shivering right up your spine. “But first, we’ll start here.”

His gaze grows heavier with promise, and a long-fingered hand skims up the side of your shirt. Your breathing stills. 

“I’m going to have you over every single surface in this apartment,” he says. “Again and again, love. Until you understand that there is only one thing in this house that I consider priceless.”

His mouth presses to yours, softly, as he shifts into the cradle of your thighs.

“And that,” he says against your mouth, sounding satisfied at the little shivery exhale this draws out of you, “that one, single priceless thing...is you.”

[a-very-sparkly-nerd]

headcanon that callum likes to hold stuff out of rayla's reach to tease her, but instead of jumping up or pulling him down to get it, she just. scales him. like a building (and he thinks it's super hot just like everything else she does and then they make out, obvs)

[slaughter-kin]

COD characters as silly little stuffed animals i have found online

warning!! this is stupid!!

Price-

Soap-

Gaz-

Ghost-

Farah-

Alex-

Alejandro-

König-

[slasherdreamerbored]

Inspired by this interview bit of Emily Blunt & John Krasinski

[via-rant]

Jason: Whens your birthday?

Leo: Oh. I don't know.

Percy: You don't know?

Leo: Yeah. I don't know. As in, I don't remember.

Piper: Who doesn't remember their birthday?

Leo: Lots of people.

Annabeth: You've met lots of people who don't know their birthday?

Leo: Yeah. Orphanages don't really care for that kind of stuff. So many kids, we'd have a party every other week.

Frank: What about Foster Homes?

Leo: Please. If they did throw a party it wouldn't be for us. They'd just use it as an excuse to have one and get drunk.

Hazel: Aren't they supposed to take care of you?

Leo: 'Supposed to' yeah. The only reason the shitstains get you for is the money so they can buy more booze to throw at you and no one will believe you until you almost die or another kid dies. Anyway-

------

I know it's OOC but aw well. Here. This is such a random thought.