#See his reaction

[kowwpow]

The masculine urge to confess

[valtsv]

every so often i just think about how good it was that the most foolproof one-size-fits-all solution for dealing with basically any horrifyingly evil supernatural monster of the week in the magnus archives was just. burying them in concrete. like yeah i can believe that a few tons of grey brutalist slop would stop the wolfman or pretty much anything in its tracks to be honest. they use that shit on nuclear waste. do you honestly think you're stronger than a nuke? a fucking nuke?

[joifee]

Hi Bdubs 🐴

godfather vibes

[pangur-and-grim]

Belphie’s starred doing this aggrieved squeak when I pick him up, so obviously I’ve been picking him up over and over (to see whether he has some pain I’m triggering, or whether he’s just decided to start complaining about the hawk grabs)

it seems like complaining right now. teenage cat attitude.

[chloesimaginationthings]

Jeremy Fitzgerald’s reaction to FNAF scooped Michael

[more-mara]

This video is constantly on my mind

[suddenly-frankenstein]

uhmhmhmmm just occasional thoughts about Daniel's interaction with Marius

[bigfatbreak]

dad villain au: did emilie just. not consider at all that adrien was literally dying at the time. wow

she's in the habit of deciding when Adrien's suffering is acceptable, and if it is, she'll just fix it later.

[nenoname]

stan ignoring mysteries and weirdness for 30 years balancing out his family's innate curiosity and being why the blind eye ignored him for that long

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

In the world of heavy metals, love is denser than hate!

[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.

[iris-valentim]

my thoughts are always with you, smoking salarian

[ciderjacks]

Party infighting

[pre-raphaelite-s]

spock sweeping into his family home on vulcan for the first time in like twenty years just having finished sobbing for the fourth time that day, clothes wrinkled, visibly shaking, hasn’t slept in three weeks: mother i have decided to undergo the kolinahr ritual -_-

amanda, who’s been drafting invitations to her son’s wedding to his captain she was sure was being announced any day now, putting her padd down with a sigh: so. how about we take a couple steps back

[chloesimaginationthings]

The Afton children are siblings forever in FNAF

[curapicas]

I'm aware this is part of the trend of snarky, snappy dialogue we see for banter on the american television. But I like that it's also Cassandra's little sister instinct shining through - every time we see her in season 3 she's being a leader, a lady, someone who deserves to be at the discussion table; and that's all well and good. Except whenever she's one on one with Percy she's smart mouthing him, being snarky and lovingly annoying him, lol. I think that goes to show how she leans on her big brother, and does so in a way that brings out a more comfortable and youthful side of her. As much as the De Rolos are not huggers, he was clearly all the family she had left :(((