#I LOOOOOOVE the back of it

[genderlesssnake]

FINALLY FINISHED MY SQUIP JACKET WOOOOOOO 🎉🎉🎉

It sat on my floor for a few months, but I finally got off my ass and finished it. I scraped some parts of the design, most notably the sleeves, because it was too much work. I love how it turned out though.

The photos of me wearing it are not great, but I’m posting them anyways

[seiwas]

cw: pro-hero bakugo, reader has boobs, kind of explicit/nsfw? idk i describe boobs, reader is smaller and shorter than bakugo, unedited sawry

bakugo's muscle tee looks as ill-fitting as it'll ever be draped over you.

there are reasons for this, perfectly founded and logical reasons for why that is—the main one being that, it's, well, his; two, maybe even three sizes larger than what it should be to fit you properly.

but, he can't stop staring, and there are reasons for that too—the main one being that, it's his, and yet, the only way he can ever imagine it now is when it's being worn by you.

your hips sway to the song you've been humming for the past five minutes. it's the same one, the chorus on a perpetual loop. he's sure it's the only part you know; you do this often enough that it's the only part he knows now, too.

the hem of his tee hits right at the top of your thighs, concealing just enough to tease, but he’s confident that if you reach up even the slightest bit for the cupboard overhead, there'll be nothing to hide.

he feels a little bit like a creep like this, watching as he stands in the middle of your shared living room, but it's impossible too look away—you've got to be doing this on purpose, right?

heat flares inside of him when you turn your body ever so slightly, the armhole of his muscle tee large enough to give him the clearest view of skin—

he gulps.

it's smooth, sloping just right; the side view of your under boob curves into its perfect shape and he can imagine it, feel—

(is this considered perving if he's been with you for years?)

the pan in front of you sizzles as you plop in god knows what. you pour in something from the side and wait, one hand propped on the hip you pop out. then, you pick up the pan, attempting to flip what's inside (probably a pancake, now that he thinks about it).

it’s hard to focus on what you’re cooking though, especially when all he sees is plump flesh jiggling, bouncing as you further agitate the pan.

he just got the pants of this suit readjusted, and now they're fucking tight.

bakugo normally runs hot; it’s kind of part of his dna. but this warmth is different, flushing him from head to toe. it creeps up the side of his neck, painting the tips of his ears a blooming red.

you turn around then, plopping the pancake on the plate atop the counter behind you.

"oh! you're done," you greet him with a smile. so. fucking. casually.

as if your tits aren't fucking peaking against the gray fabric of his tee.

as if you think he buys the fake innocence poorly concealing that sly, conniving look in your pretty eyes.

as if you aren't standing in front of him in his muscle tee, wearing nothing underneath it like you didn’t do this on purpose. like you don’t know what it fucking does to him.

his eyes squint suspiciously, deep vermillion staring straight into yours.

you tilt your head, the tips of your lashes kissing the top of your cheekbones as you blink. you reach for a bottle of honey.

“everything okay?” you ask, voice syrupy, sickeningly sweet.

your movements play in front of him languidly, the corner of your lips curling up slightly as you smirk. honey catches on your finger as you pop open the bottle cap.

he’s supposed to be out the door in five minutes if he wants to make it in time for a meeting at the agency. technically, he should already be there if he wants to keep up his track record of consistently being fifteen minutes too early.

but you start to approach him, rounding the kitchen island. there’s a narrow space between him and the slab of marble, but you slide into it like it was made for you.

he’s certain it was, from the way the tip of your nose brushes against his as you tiptoe. your tits are right fucking there, brushing against the skintight material of his suit.

there’s too much fucking fabric if you ask him, between cotton and spandex.

your grin widens, and he feels hot, the heat from his cheeks radiating.

then you whisper, still saccharine, “breakfast is ready,” before kissing him on the lips lightly. a short peck, soft in the way that promises more before you slip away, giggling in your retreat.

he huffs, watching you leave. his feet shift as he thinks.

five minutes, huh?

like hell he’s going to eat these damn pancakes for breakfast today.

[thelaurenshippen]

911 really is such a good reminder of the particularly kind of joy that is weekly, seasons-long shows with many episodes per season. every character gets a moment to shine even in a truncated season. the satisfaction of seeing characters grapple with stuff that happened YEARS ago. having multi-episode arcs and one-off arcs that are equally enjoyable. beach episodes (metaphorical). I know we're all saying this all the time but why can't more tv be like this

[motianz]

This chapter is still in the future and doesn't advance the plot but STILL, we got so much from it!!! So much "reciprocate feelings Mgs"

First of all little Mo's working on luxury cars!!! I'm so happy for him, he obviously loves cars/bikes like this

Second, Mo called He Tian handsome UNPROMPTED, TWICE. First a little to appease Ht, second because when his Bf turned his face Mo found him so handsome he couldn't help but say/think it again!!!!!

Third, as we know Ht smokes when he's stressed/in a bad mood, and the first thing Mo does is reach out to take away the cigarette. AND this looser loves and feels so attracted to He tian, that he blushed after Ht pulled him close and blew smoke in his face

And lastly not only did he stop to look for a flower to give He Tian to apologize, he also blushed while giving him the gift

Bonus his reaction to forgetting he had a date with Ht lol. He knows his bf so well, I just know he was thinking about how pouty and upset Ht would be

[anonymouscheeses]

I just want them to be absolutely head over heels with eachother. No one sided simping in my hazbin hotel!

[sunncean]

The vampire and the wolf 🩸🐺

[monkiinart]

not rlly interested in valorant anymore but he's on my mind always

[dadcred]

life is so rough when u and ur bestie are the hottest members of ur pirate crew :/

[texasbama]

[higherhell]

Atsushi in green and red (Jun 21, 2024 - POSCA acrylic on canvas)

While I've been off tumblr for the last couple weeks I started feverishly painting on tiny canvases with POSCAs. I've done like 8 so far and I'm kind of obsessed. This is the second biggest, so when I say tiny I do mean it. Maybe I'll keep working my way up until I'm painting on large enough scale to finally actually use the easel in my room. I don't know how well I've achieved a likeness here, but I do want to keep painting Atsushi. I don't know why, but it's been in my head that I need to paint him on canvas for weeks, if not months before this. Which is interesting because 95% of my output has been digital for probably the last decade. I'm grateful to him for the spark of inspiration to embrace something new I suppose.

[alien-bluez]

I think Lark would be a pretty good cult leader, y'know?

alt. color versions under the cut!

[bugprinz]

stole his look and then wore it better...sad!

[blushouyo]

tell me, o father, that this suffering is not without cause.

[rinupi]

"SMIIIIIIILE inupi~"

[bright-and-burning]

today i am going to a) do all the dishes from yesterdays mad dash cooking spree b) meal prep slightly (aka make one large thing of zucchini pasta) (please dont ask how many attempts it took to spell zucchini before i gave up and used spell check) c) put away the last of my air drying clothes d) mop my floors e) rearrange my writing related tags f) write some more. we can DO IT!

[youngpettyqueen]

Thanks! In that case I'd like to request Bashir and Worf with a kiss on the cheek :)

oh this is so choice anon I could kiss you myself

LOVE that yall have been giving me so many excuses to write Worf lately. especially love the excuse to write Julian and Worf, because I love them, and I will never stop spreading the Julian and Worf (and Julian/Worf) agenda. thank you for allowing me another excuse to force people to consider Them

hope you enjoy <333

Things happen way too fast.

One second, Julian is coaxing a bottle away from a very intoxicated Nausicaan, and passing it behind his back to Quark, who swoops in to take it with practiced quickness. Except, the Nausicaan towers over the both of them, and he sees exactly what they do.

And this makes him very, very angry.

The next thing Julian knows, he's on the ground, his head spinning and his cheek smarting. He doesn't get to be on the ground for very long, however, as the Nausicaan grabs him by his collar and hauls him clear off his feet.

The Nausicaan growls something, but Julian's ears are still ringing a bit too much for him to make it out clearly, and he's a bit preoccupied with trying to squirm his way out of the iron grip on his collar. Then the Nausicaan is reaching back for something at his hip, and Julian's eyes widen as he realizes that he's going to do a whole lot worse than just punch him in the face.

And then Worf comes roaring in like a lion.

At first all Julian sees is the hand that clamps down on the Nausicaan's shoulder. Then he's being dropped on his ass, and from the ground he watches as Worf hauls the Nausicaan up into the air like he weighs nothing at all, and slams him down into the nearest table with such force that he puts him through it.

Worf hunkers down over the Nausicaan, his hands still fisted in his jacket. His eyes are burning with rage, his lips pulled back over his teeth in a display of ferocity. "If you harm the doctor again," He snarls, "I will kill you where you stand." He doesn't say it like a threat, he says it like a vow. It's backed up by his posture- coiled tight, ready to strike should the Nausicaan so much as breathe wrong.

The Nausicaan, of course, is too dazed to respond.

Worf drops him, letting him flop back against the broken remains of the table. He draws himself up to his full height, then steps off the Nausicaan and moves over to where Julian is still sitting on the ground. He holds a hand out to him.

"Are you alright?" He asks, his tone significantly softer.

Julian stares up at him for a moment, starstruck. Then he nods, takes Worf's hand, and lets himself be pulled up to his feet. It never stops being unfair, just how easily Worf lifts him.

He stumbles as he stands. Worf is quick to steady him. "'M alright, 'm alright," Julian assures him, wincing as he gingerly touches his cheek, which hurts like hell, "Just... had my bell rung, is all. I'm alright." He'll probably have a wicked shiner, but it's nothing a quick stop at the infirmary won't fix. Still, it smarts when he talks.

Worf leans down, examining the injury for himself. "You are bleeding," He observes, "I will take you to the infirmary." He decides.

"Oh, that isn't necessary," Julian says, even as Worf takes him by the arm and guides him away from the scene of the fight, "I can get there just fine. Beside, I'm sure Odo's going to want to talk to you about..." He glances back to see a couple of Starfleet Security officers moving in to deal with the fallen Nausicaan, "That."

"The Constable will wait." Worf replies curtly. Clearly, he's not going anywhere.

Julian can't help but chuckle. "You're being awfully protective." He remarks, his tone light, bordering on teasing.

Worf huffs, an irritated sound. "There are few things as dishonourable as striking a healer," He gruffs. Then, softer, almost hesitant, he adds, "And I... do not enjoy seeing you hurt."

Julian softens at the admission, his smile going from teasing to warm and genuine. "That's very sweet, Mr. Worf," He hums, and he bites back a laugh as Worf pointedly averts his eyes, "I'm alright, really. A regenerator will have this fixed before you can blink. But..." He tries to catch Worf's eye again, "Thanks. For the rescue, I mean. Usually I'd insist I can fight my own battles, but I suspect our Nausicaan friend was about to turn me into a kebab, so your intervention is much appreciated." He rambles a bit, but the sincerity is there all the same.

"That is precisely why I intervened when I did," Worf tells him, confirming Julian's suspicions, "I would have intervened regardless, but when he reached for his blade, I was compelled to act... quickly." He admits.

Julian doesn't really want to think about how close he got to being run through. He remembers the Academy courses on artificial and biosynthetic organs, and he remembers the case study his class did on Captain Jean-Luc Picard's artificial heart, which he got after a Nausicaan stabbed him. In a bar fight. Much as he admires Captain Picard, he has no desire to also have an artificial heart.

So, he breezes right past all those thoughts, and goes right back to teasing. "It almost sounds like you were worried about me." He comments, saturating his voice with charm.

"I was not worried," Worf refutes, again, without making eye contact, "I merely did not desire to see you stabbed in a... bar fight. It would be... unbecoming." He grumbles.

"Oh, yes, unbecoming," Julian nods, mock serious, "As opposed to, say, being stabbed in a proper battle."

"Yes," Worf agrees, not catching Julian's sarcasm, "That would be a far more worthy death."

From literally any other person, that would be an insane sentence. From Worf, however, Julian recognizes the compliment. His grin broadens. "Are you saying I'm worthy of a grand and glorious death on the battlefield?" He asks, leaning into Worf's arm, "Mr. Worf, that's positively romantic."

Worf looks like he might genuinely combust, his face flushing a deep, dark shade as he grumbles under his breath. Julian chuckles, rich and warm, continuing to cling to his arm as Worf, despite the teasing, continues to walk him to the infirmary. Such a gentleman.

When they do arrive, Worf turns to him, still obviously flushed. "I will go speak to the Constable," He says, all serious, as he tends to be, "I suggest you do the same once you are released."

Julian snaps a two-finger salute. "I'll be there in a jiffy," He agrees, "I'm sure Odo will want my statement." He's not looking forward to that. Dealing with all the statements and questions is more of a pain than being punched in the face. But if he doesn't go tonight, Odo will just hound him tomorrow, so he might as well bite the metaphorical bullet and do it sooner rather than later.

"Be sure to tell him the Nausicaan was going to make an attempt on your life." Worf instructs.

Julian still really doesn't want to think about that. "How could I forget," He sighs, "Don't let me keep you. You've been the perfect gentleman, but I can take it from here. Like I said, this won't take long. You'll probably still be in Odo's office when I get there." It's probably going to be a long night for both of them. Joy of joys.

"In that case, perhaps I should wait," Worf suggests, "It may be... safer, if I escort you." He adds, somewhat awkwardly.

Julian raises a brow at him. "You really are being protective," He observes. He chuckles, and gives his head a shake, "I'm a big boy, Worf. I can handle myself. But I'll tell you what," He says, "If I think I need an escort, I'll ask Nurse T'Strei." He offers as a compromise. He has absolutely no intention of actually asking for an escort, he just knows Worf won't back down from this. Worf's protective tendencies are endearing, to be sure, but he has a lot of pride, and he can only take so much.

Worf considers this for a moment. Then he nods. "Very well," He agrees, "I will see you in the Constable's office." He turns to leave.

"Hold on," Julian catches him by the sleeve. Worf looks back at him, and Julian steps closer, smiling fondly as he looks up at him, "There's an old Earth custom that comes with walking me home, you know." He hums, a twinkle of mischief in his eye.

Worf just looks confused. "This is not your home." He points out.

Julian chuckles. "I practically live here," He reminds him, "So it's close enough for me to do this." Bold as brass, he tugs Worf even closer, and goes up on his tiptoes so that he can give him a sweet little peck on the cheek.

Worf's entire body goes rigid. He freezes in place like a statue, like he's a part of the computer that's just shut down. Any of the blush he'd managed to shake off roars right back to his face, across his nose, he's probably blushing right to his ears under all that hair.

Julian lowers himself back down with a grin. "See you soon, Mr. Worf." He purrs.

Worf blinks. Then he blinks again, and clears his throat. "Yes," He jerks a nod, "See you. Soon." And then he turns on his heel and takes off at a brisk march.

Julian watches him go, lingering until he's out of sight. Barely aware of the sting in his cheek, he ducks into the infirmary, humming cheerfully and much, much too pleased with himself.