#OOC: I LOVE HIM

[spaceistheplaceart]

more ford and mabel bonding because i said so :)

bonus ford under the cut:

[teddybearspankoffski]

*slams hands down on table* Would.

You and everyone else. Just the good ol' Spankoffski charm.

[theguidet0dreaming]

dream flyer: Well I finally figured out the camera so that means all of you lovely human can see my face

[nouverx]

*proceeds to drink the whole bottle*

Yeah Alastor you're gonna be loved and appreciated wether you want it or not :)

[z13lovebot]

You can pet the car Once (1) 🐱

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

"You and me, Ethan. Together we go save Rose, and then we can grind Miranda into paste!"

[lilislegacy]

*percy seen from a far, wearing a suit*

piper: do my eyes deceive me or is percy jackson wearing formal clothes? since when does he have the ability to look like a domesticated human being?

frank: how come HE, percy of all people, king of untidiness, can wear a cream linen suit and look like a celebrity, but when i tried one on i looked like a man-child going to a high school dance?

hazel: sweetie it’s just because it’s such a casual suit, and you’re much more elegant than percy is!

annabeth, turning to them: um okay, hi percy’s best friends? can you guys compliment him without insulting him?

leo: his ass looks incredible.

grover: has he been working out?

annabeth, side eyeing them:

annabeth: okay, you have all now either insulted him or hit on him. how about from now on, you do neither?

rachel: how about we do both? because i’ve actually just perfected doing them at the same time

[ducktu]

Timkon clon baby au but Bruce loves his grandson way too much he stops being Batman for a while to help single teen parent Tim being yk a parent.

Like, he's soooo down to being a grandfather that as soon as he sees the baby in Tim's arms he doesn't even asks where it comes from he's just omgomgomg a babyyyy.

Because, yk, he never got the chance to hold his kids when they were babies and now he can hold the baby of one of his babies.

Enter making the mannor baby proof on day one and making a whole room a playground!

And he sees how Tim is like, not okay, like, yes he's happy he's a father now, but the grief of his friend dying is still there and the guilt of trying to clone him AND successfully doing it is not going away quickly enough for him to be able to take care of a whole human being, so Bruce of course steps up (because he's a good father when he needs to, AND THAT'S A BABY OK).

So, being Batman vs being there for his son and grandchild? Obviously his family needs him more.

So pretty much everyone commits to the cause.

Dick can be Batman for a while, just like once a week so Gotham knows he's still there. Jason may help a little by not causing trouble and Cass is so down to watch the kid 24/7 because they don't know if he has powers yet or when will they appear.

Just a big bat family trying their best for the new baby!

Edit: follow up!

[finsplurtz]

— waking up to a horny Bakugo gulp

He’s all squirmy and touchy, kissing sloppily at your neck. “I need you yn…” he’d whine pathetically as he’d grind his clothed dick on your thigh. “hon, you have work in the morning..” you kiss back. He has an important job tomorrow, you can’t take away his walking abilities tonight. “I don’t care yn pleeease~..” he sounds so cute and needy:(

having him sit in between your legs and wrapping your hand around his and guiding it to his dick.“you can make do with this, can’t you..?” You whisper into his ear, kissing his neck. He’d whimper and grind up into his own hand. He’s all sweaty and loud, chasing after an orgasm. “look at my hand hon..” he’d looked down at your hand moving with his, he’d gasp and let out a small cry. Hold him by his jaw as you whisper dirty little things into his ear. “aren’t you needy tonight…don’t worry.. next time I’ll make sure to take real good care of you..put that tight hole of yours into use..~” He’d moan so loudly, curse words falling out of his mouth. you’re fighting the urge to have him bounce on your cock it’s killing you

“you’d like that..~?” You tighten your hand around his having him jerk up. “y-ye…yes..”

“yeah..?” “mmhm..! fuck I’m go-..nna c-come..fuck fuck fuck..” his dick would twitch violently just at your voice. “wanna come, baby?” The smirk can be heard in your voice and it has him spiraling “yh…please..” he’d beg humping into his hand. you whisper something into his ear before sucking at his neck as he perks up and releases all over his and your hands. “fuuuck…hngh..~” his mind is going blank as you stroke him thru his orgasm. Little noises leave his mouth and his hand goes limp.

You use his thighs to get off when he’s sound asleep

[dystopyx-blog]

"You've been avoiding Floyd."

You had stepped away from your friends for a second, only to be face first with Jade's chest.

Its not like you were unused to being suddenly accosted by a tweel, it just usually wasn't this one.

"I haven't been avoiding him," you told him. "I just have other friends."

"You might not for much longer..." Said Jade, lifting a hand to just barely conceal that sickening pointy-toothed grin on his face. "What I mean to say is that Floyd has been a bit... testy lately. Seems without you he just doesn't know what to do with himself! I'm sure youve been seeing the increase in injury among the student body lately? If not, I suggest you start paying attention...."

The next couple days you started doing just as Jade suggested. Sure enough, there were a startling number of students with various injuries--though most commom was bruises. And some of them even seemed to glare at you--more so than usual, that is.

But surely it couldn't all have been from Floyd... right? The students here weren't known for being particularly merciful, after all. Right?...

One day, after witnessing a freshly battered boy fearfully run through the halls, you decided to investigate yourself. You followed where he had run from, and sure enough, there he was, acting like a perfect stereotypical highschool bully.

"Floyd?"

At the sight of you, Floyd drops the random student, a big grin spreading across his face.

"Shrimpy!" He exclaimed.

The poor victims immediately took the chance to flee. Floyd approached you. First he grabbed your arms, giving those a light squeeze. Seeing you didn't protest, his face lit up like a kid's on Christmas, and soon your feet were off the ground. He hugged you close to him, even swinging you a bit, though gently (or, at least, as gently as Floyd can be.)

"I missed ya, Shrimpy..." He said in a surprisingly soft voice. But he didn't say anything else, just kept hugging you. You sighed.

Just how in the heck did you become the favored squeaky toy of an overgrown eel???

[qweenofurheart]

timmy with dami and kon !

[tvlandofficiall]

jevil has truly changed me as a person because whenever i lie down to go to sleep i think to myself. now i will sleep for the other 100 years.

[tojisun]

(this is def inspired by htgawm s4e7 but) simon is totally the type to propose to you in a way that is quite mundane, if not a little unexpected.

thinking about simon taking you out for lunch by the cafe close to your work; you ordered a light lunch, paired it with iced coffee, and simon scrunches his nose in mortification but backs off with a chuckle when you tell him he can’t say shit after ordering steak and paired it with a cup of tea.

and you’re within the moment of recounting your morning, waving your hands around in excitement as you tell him about completing a project given to you by your supervisor, when simon just gets hit with this realization. this feeling that pulses within his heart—“you. i want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

so, while you’re lost in your story, simon plucks out the discarded straw wrap you tore off for your drink, and hides his hands underneath the table. he twists the paper, makes soft tears to cut it shorter, and pinches the ends so they stick together as best as they can. it’s sloppy but it’s a circle, small enough to fit around your finger.

“so,” you begin, sipping on your coffee. “what’cha hiding under there?”

simon shoots you a cheeky smile. “oh but you’ve seen it, haven’t you, lovie?”

you groan, chucking a balled-up tissue paper his way. “y’r gross.”

“that’s not what you were crying last night,” he playfully snarks back with a quirked up brow. your cheeks burn and you duck down to hide from his knowing gaze, trying desperately to tamp down the laugh that is making your lips twitch.

simon chuckles, shaking his head softly, trying to pretend that his heart isn’t quite literally lodged in his throat right now, before coughing lightly to capture your attention again. you give it to him readily with a small and confused smile dancing on your lips, and your eyes crinkled in the way that makes him swoon.

“si?” you ask, a little worried now that he just sits on in his silence. “are you okay?”

“yeah,” simon replies, a little breathless. “more than ‘okay’, actually. i’m-” he pauses, clearing his throat, his fingers still playing with the straw wrapping.

you watch as he breathes in deeply before his posture straightens and then he is pulling his hand out from under the table. you blink your eyes down to his hand where, pinched between his fingers, is the straw wrapping twisted and pinched to look like a small ring.

“this is a placeholder for the real one, s’just that i’ve always wanted to ask you when the timing is right but every time i’m with you always seemed to be the right time so…”

simon’s eyes are unwavering—they are pools of gentle storms—but you notice the way his hand trembles, taken by tremors that would have made you worry if his words had not seized your beating heart and cradled it with such tenderness that you feel like weeping.

“will you marry me?”

[tinynerdycthulu]

tbh i dunno why so many sj apologists are anti-yqy. because like????? he is your mascot. he was the originator. the head honcho of excusing sj's levels of unmitigated villainy. look into my eyes and tell me that qi ge wouldn't blush and kick his feet if he saw xiao jiu commit murder. actually we don't NEED to imagine bc jiumei did just that and yue qi just grabbed his hand and ran, no thoughts head empty. arson? child abuse?? yue qi doesn't care. whatever makes xiao jiu happy <3

[transvampireboyfriend]

Eddie would come up with the most elaborate schemes to kiss Steve for the first time.

here's mine: He realizes Steve is a gossip early on, like the first time they all hang out someone mentions a rumour in passing and Steve latches on. Eddie is delighted. He's enamoured by the twinkle in Steve's eyes and the intensity in his probing, even the enthusiasm in giving out the information he has about the people in question.

So Eddie knows what he has to do.

Whenever Eddie sees or hears something that frankly should not be any of his business he makes sure to tell Steve. He doesn't mention it to anybody else and most of the time he doesn't care about it much, but he needs to tell Steve.

And he only does it when it's just the two of them. He finds Steve in a secluded corner of the Family Video, says "i think my boss is cheating on his wife" and is rewarded with a gasp.

He follows after Steve when he goes to refill the popcorn in the middle of movie night and casually asks "you know who I saw the other day coming out of Laura's house at 3am?" Steve raises his eyebrows higher than Eddie has ever seen.

He calls Steve at midnight on a Wednesday and opens with "my neighbors are definitely getting back together" Steve answers with a devastated "noooo!"

He leaves the kids in the cookie aisle to go catch up to Steve and lean on the shopping cart shoulder to shoulder and whisper "dont look now, but Heather and Monica are here together, right behind us. They ARE dating" Steve looks immediately.

And Eddie's not only excited about his initial reactions, but he thanks the heavens for his discovery because it gets him Steve's total, undivided attention every.fucking.time. without fail.

Steve turns fully to him, touches Eddie's arms for emphasis, shoves him when Eddie says something dumb, tugs on a strand of his hair a bit when Eddie says something silly, opens his eyes SO wide or squints at him and his eyelashes look sooo pretty. Steve leans in and whispers back and grins and teases and scrunches his nose in the most adorable gesture Eddie has ever seen in his life.

With practice, Eddie goes from having to give Steve's shoulder a back handed slap to get his attention, to just looking at him directly for like 5 seconds and then Steve knows Eddie has something to tell him.

so he does it at dinner, on a nondescript date at a nondescript hour because, mostly, Eddie just kinda can't take it anymore.

He's listening to Steve tell this story about a costumer and frankly, forgets to look away from him and Steve interprets this as Eddie having something to say. He cuts himself off, tilts his head and asks "what?" with mirth in his voice.

Eddie smiles, a little mischievous and says "c'mere I have to tell you something"

Steve smiles back, but says "we're the only ones here, Eds" gesturing to his kitchen.

Eddie rolls his eyes a bit and threatens "do you want me to tell you or not?"

Steve leans across the table, his cut off tank almost touching their spaghetti.

Eddie wants to shove his hands through the armpit holes, but he settles for holding Steve's jaw and threading his fingers through the hair at the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

Steve's lips are as soft and warm as he expected, he tastes of the red sauce they cooked together and he smells good enough to eat. Eddie indulges in a thorough kiss but keeps it short.

No matter how many times Steve looks at him like he's the most interesting person in the room, he hasn't outright said that he likes Eddie like that, so he'd rather be careful.

Eddie pulls back and finds Steve smiling, his eyes closed still.

Steve blinks his eyes open and looks at Eddie, his tongue darts out to swipe across his lips and he says "I think that's the best one you've told me yet"

Eddie snorts and feels his cheeks burn "Yeah?" he asks.

"Mmhm" Steve confirms against his lips, already kissing Eddie again.

It takes a while, but eventually Eddie realizes Steve doesn't only give him his undivided attention when he has gossip. He does it pretty much all the time.

Maybe at some point it expanded to everything Eddie has to say.

Or maybe it was like that all along.

[cordyce]

ao’nung is frustrated.

at least, that’s what you’ve deduced from watching him sharpen his knife for the past ten minutes straight. if he keeps going, it might get as thin as a wish bone; threatening to snap at the slightest bit of pressure. as much as you’d find amusement in the sight of that, you’d rather not be in the crossfire when it happens.

“what’s got you caught in its net?” you ask, finally, as you drop the gear you’ve been mending while ao’nung simmers.

“funny,” he mutters, but mirth is not something found in his tone. another scrape, another grating. he does not look over at you.

“i know. i’m the funniest person alive. you should be grateful you have the opportunity to bask in my presence.”

it’s a ploy—a tease. like waving fresh bait in front of a young ilu but never tossing it into the water for them to eat. your tactic with ao’nung is always the same. push and pull and prod just enough that he bites back with less venom and more demure. because sarcasm is better than spite, in all regards.

except now, he doesn’t take it. now, he simply keeps his head tucked down, his lips pressed in a hard line. whittling at his knife and spouting invisible steam out of his ears.

you stand up, make your way over to him and bend slightly at the waist to slide your hands along his sloped shoulders. his muscles go taut—just a bit—at the initial contact of your palms, but relax a second later. not to their resting state, no, but leaving the field of caught off guard at the very least. you hum, lean down further as you dip your hands over his clavicles, across the upper half of his sternum.

“what is wrong, ao‘nung?” its sincere, this time. your question. because despite the dynamic between the two of you, you really do care—jokes and jabs aside.

this silence is different. you can tell by the twitch of his ears that he’s thinking; mulling something over on his tongue before he decides whether to spit it out or swallow it down. you can never guess which one it will be, not with him. he acts on whims, never strategy. there is no speculating his next move, so you simply don’t try to.

“there has been talk among the reef.” it’s all he says; all he gives. such a shell of a man, forcing you to pry open his jaws to reach the pearl within.

it is good that you’ve always been so skilled with your hands.

“there is always talk among the reef,” you chuckle, begin to fiddle with the necklace that’s strung around his neck. hooking your chin over the top of his head, you look down to watch as he grinds his knife once again. “you know they like to keep their minds busy with silly things.”

“it isn’t a silly thing.”

“oh? then tell me, what is so dire that it could have the great ao’nung this tense, hm?”

his hands falter for the first time, a pause in his rhythmic grazing. your brows furrow at that, create a hairline crease in the middle that only smooths out as he resumes his motions. scrape, scrape, scrape again. it’s like he’s doing it in sync with his heart. if you shifted your hand over just a tad, you suppose you could test that theory.

“it is talk of you.”

quiet. a mere grumble under his breath. if you were not leaned over him like this you would not have even heard him. such an odd twinge to his tone; laced with something you can’t quite decipher. can’t quite pick up on. it isn’t necessarily anger, but something flirting along the lines of it.

“me? don’t tell me you have went around spreading rumors that i am possessed by eywa’s evil sister again. i thought you stopped that when we were kids.” you laugh through it, because the jagged edges of his timbre are making your fingers itch. “you’re going to ruin my reputation.”

he scoffs. condescending, dismissive. normally you’d take that as a good sign; a call back to his regular grating demeanor. at this specific moment, however, you find annoyance in it.

“your reputation is fine,” he tilts, gives a particularly harsh press of his knife that makes you think this just might be the time where it snaps. miraculously, it doesn’t. “so completely fine.”

“then what could they possibly find reason to speak of me for?” you press, rubbing your thumb over the cord of his necklace, twisting it around your fingers. “i have not caused any trouble lately. haven’t set fire to any maruis. why, there’s nothing that i can think of that could possibly warrant—“

“they speak of your lack of mate.”

his hands are working harder, less refined. jaw clenching, deltoids growing stiff below you. it’s all starting to air itself out, his jaws have cracked open just enough that you can finally see the pretty pink pearl that rests on the bed of his tongue. but it is not enough, not yet.

“then all they speak is the truth,” you shrug over him, keep your gaze locked on his movements. you want to be sure, before you jump to the assumptions that are creating hurdles in your mind. “there is no harm in speaking of public knowledge.”

“they—“ he hitches, twists his face up like his next words are sour on his tastebuds, “they are voicing their thoughts on potentials for you. they think.. rotxo is the best option.”

“oh, yes. rotxo would be a fine potential mate.”

and, ah. there it is. the coup de grace.

ao’nung snaps his head around towards you so fast you hardly have time to lean back to avoid getting smacked in the chin by his skull. there’s a fissure between his brows, his eyes have widened past the aggravated slits they were before. his mouth is cracked open in disbelief, of the fact that you agreed with him or another matter, you aren’t sure. either way, it is clear now what has been getting under the heir’s skin.

he's jealous. and you can't help but find that the slightest bit amusing. it's not often you have ao'nung in the palm of your hand like this; akin to a bug squirming under the pad of your thumb with no clear route of escape. you think you can play this up, just a little.

"you do not think that," he states, like he needs to speak it into existence. like if he says it then it will ring true, change your mind.

(he doesn't need to change your mind, but he doesn't need to know that right now).

"why would i not?" you hum, tip your head like you're truly contemplating it. "he is sweet. has a tender heart. and he is always so quick to help me. he doesn't even complain. i think taking him as a mate would be a good decision."

"the only thing good about rotxo is his hair," ao'nung spouts, rolls his eyes at you as his face fills up with indignation. "stupid, pretty boy goody two shoes."

"oh, you're right! and he's nice to look at," you agree, nod your head right along with it, "how could i forget?"

his cheek dips; he's sucking it in between his teeth. you've really done it, you think. setting him off has never been so easy. sure, it’s never too hard to get him riled up in the middle of a bickering match. but like this? aggravated over, what, exactly? the thought of you with someone else?

maybe you’re enjoying this a bit too much.

“he is not your type.” a bold proclamation, ao’nung spits out. grasping for straws; searching blindly. “you would not go well with him.”

“i think he is my type, actually,” you dispute, and he’s stopped all his movements now. knife long forgotten as he seethes over every word you speak. “kind. loyal. good morals. easy on the eyes. yes, definitely my type. that checks off the list.”

he purses his lips, knots up his brows. “that cannot be the list.”

“no?” you peruse, play into him. he makes this too easy, really. “what do you think is on the list, then? moody? messy? long hair? a tendency to be mouthy? being the chief’s son?”

that earns you a shove off of him; a click for him to realize you’ve been fucking with him this entire time. biting back your shit eating grin would be impossible so you don’t even try to. nor do you stop the laughter that bubbles out of you as he goes back to his knife work and curses you under his breath.

you reach for him again except this time you walk around until you’re in front of him. one hand on his shoulder, you lean down to shove the knife and sharpener out of his hands and plop yourself right into the slot his crossed legs have made. his gaze is narrowed at you, his lips jutted. you simply smile—innocent, sweet—as you slide your hands around to cup the nape of his neck.

“i don’t think rotxo could handle me,” you murmur, sickeningly saccharine in such a direct contrast from seconds before. ao’nung doesn’t budge. “and the good ones are always so boring. if he was my mate, when would i ever get the chance to get up to trouble?”

“you are trouble,” ao’nung scoffs; acting annoyed, fed up. but his hands give him away as they meet the dimples of your lower back, as they slide up your spine to hold you secure so you don’t fall backwards.

his facade of pretending to not care has never been too full proof. there’s been cracks in that glass since day one.

“your trouble,” you grin. your fingers begin to draw circles along the back of his neck, tease at his hairline. “you made me this way, you know.”

“i made you nothing,” he rebuts. “you are the one who always comes up with the pesky ideas that get us scolded.”

“ah, you’re right,” you agree with a faux sigh. “humor and brains. i guess i’m the funniest and smartest person alive. truly, you should be honored.”

ao’nung rolls his eyes, peels his hands off of you. “forget ability, i do not wish to handle you now. rotxo can have you, for all i care.”

“oh?” you quirk, begin to stand up. “should i go see what he is up to—“

“sit,” ao’nung orders before you can rise no more than a few inches off of his lap; hands gripping your waist to tug you back down. the playfulness drains from his eyes, that annoyance—jealousy—flashes across sea foam irises for just a moment. “you are not funny.”

you bite the edge of your lip, making your grin turn slanted. he is so fun to tease, to toss around. his palms are warm on the dip of your waist. sliding your hands further back, you skim your finger along the side of the braid encasing his queue. faint, light. he tries to hide the shiver it causes but you pick up on it regardless. and that only makes you grin wider.

“they will speak of me until i choose a mate,” you hum as you lean closer to him, minimize the distance between your faces. “rotxo is not the only name that will be paired with mine. they all like to place their bets, you know.”

“their bets are stupid,” ao’nung mutters; gruff and rumbling out of his chest as his attention flickers, falters, the closer you get.

being this close is nothing new. being this touchy is nothing new, either. but it’s almost like your skin is buzzing, your energies feeding off one another in the moment that sends you tumbling into a smug streak. or maybe, that’s just the power ao’nung holds over you and you’re scared to admit it.

“you only think they’re stupid because your name is being outnumbered in the betting pool.” maybe that’s a little mean, but it’s fun. your fingertips are heavier now, more directed as you trace the divots of his braid with one hand and gauge the rise and fall of his chest with the other. “if you were winning, would they be stupid then?”

“i am winning,” ao’nung conveys, so sure and lacking any sense of doubt in the slightest; a variance from a few moments before. and that, well, that actually makes you falter—for just a second.

“and how do you figure that?” you mumble out the question into the minute slot between the two of you. bated and breathy.

ao’nung hooks an arm around your waist, his other hand sliding up to grip the hinge of your jaw. not harsh, not rough, but firm. cradling you carefully but securely; solidly. your breath hitches, your fingers pause on their skimming across his queue encasing.

“because i am the only one who gets to do this,” he says. blunt and honest and certain as he closes the gap severing you.

he kisses you full and deep and warm. he kisses you like he has not eaten in days and you are the one thing that can sate his hunger. he kisses you like the ocean kisses the shore; yearning and all consuming, and rushing back once more as soon as their lips must part.

and he does; chase your lips as you pull back to catch your breath. places one, two, three pecks there before he deems it a safe retreat. his eyes are lidded, but no longer from frustration. that signature crooked, haughty smirk of his is curved into his pale lips. and instead of smacking it off, you’re considering how many more kisses it would take to wipe it away.

“oh yeah,” he chuckles, lips brushing over yours as he’s already leaning in again. “so winning.”

and you can’t help but agree.

likes & reblogs appreciated !