#but for now gn !!

[faint-i-wont-be-ignored]

Night friends!

Take care of yourself, stay alive, and remember, you are not alone, <3

[razzafrazzle]

whenever i see people draw garfield as a catgirl they always make him feminine and young. you dont understand him like i do. anyways theyre both transbians to me

[image description: a drawing of garfield and arlene from the garfield comics depicted as catgirls. garfield is depicted as a fat, light-skinned, hairy woman with short orange mullet hair, freckles, a white tank top, orange shorts, and orange sneakers, and arlene is depicted as a tall, dark-skinned woman with short curly pink hair, red lipstick, a red dress, sheer tights, and pink pumps. arlene is sitting on a countertop and looking down at garfield, who is sitting in a chair with his legs spread, picking at his teeth and smiling. the drawing is made to look as though it were a real garfield comic panel. end id]

[guhbwuh]

gaz study

[s-ccaam-era-crepe]

i think everyone who's ever had migraines should be financially compensated forever btw

[the-raindeer-king]

The quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach.

That's how the saying goes. You never realized just how true it was until you started working as Captain John Price's assistant. It had started off innocently enough, bringing him a tea or coffee when he asked. Maybe scolding him whenever you found out he skipped lunch.

You had been baking brownies, trying out a new recipe, and you just needed someone to taste them (and maybe help you get rid of the batch if need be). So, you brought them to work, left them in a pretty box on Price's desk when you dropped off his coffee.

You certainly hadn't expected the rest of the task force to come around to your desk, begging to know why you didn't bring any for them. Turn out that not only did Price brag out your baking skills, he's refusing to share with the rest of the task force, despite the fact you had brought more than enough for all of them.

Looks like you're going to have to make more.

[plasticsandwich]

small sketch for tdor today

[444xxuqnxvxu]

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . fucking kinich (nsfw) ^ྀི ˚. ᵎᵎnotice: gn!reader, 2nd person pov,nsfw, reader has a cock, top!reader, bottom!kinich, afab!kinich, kinichs genitalia is refered to using female terminology, mild overstimulation, short thirst

. ۫ ꣑ৎ .Kinichs hips jerk weakly in your grasp, yet your fingers refuse to loose contact with the burning skin on his hips, instead opting to push your hands down further. The hunter watches through bleary eyes, as your gaze stays entirely unmoving, fixed to the part where the two of you are connected with each other, much closer than you usually are. Your cock is buried deeply inside his dripping cunt, parting his folds and molding his insides into whatever shape best suited for you. Kinich doesn‘t complain, doesn‘t get the opportunity to, with the way you pound into him, each thrust seemingly trying to reach deeper and deeper inside him. By now, your entire cock is covered in his slick, embarassingly so, and it doesn‘t help that he can hear the loud pounding of his heart against his ribcage, muffled over the obscenely wet squelching sounds from your cock sinking into his cunt over and over. He can feel your dominant hand releasing his side of its painfully bruising grip, something akin to disapointment welling up inside is mind for the brief second that your hand leaves his body. The feeling lingers barely, before your hand latches onto his neglected clit, thumb rhythmically circling the throbbing nub eith both, unforeseen gentleness, and precise pressure. Your action forces a hoarse moan out of his drying throat before Kinich gets the chance to cover his mouth enough to stiffle the noise. Quiet gasps and groans have gradually begun to fade into muffled moans and occassional high-pitched whimpers. His entire body is filled with an unfamilar warmth that has gradually spread from his face all over his body, collecting in a tight knot inside his stomach, where it is currently coiling and writhing as you repeatedly drag your cock against his sensitive walls. He can feel it all: Every ripple, every vein, every delicious curve of your cock, moving in a frantic rhythm against every spot he can think of inside his hole. With one last swipe of your thumb over his clit, his back arches off the matress as he spills all over your hand eith an embarassingly loud keen. Kinich swears he can see white dotting his vision as he trembles underneath you, attempting to collect himself from his previous orgasm. Before he can muster up enough self-control to get himself back together, you pull out our cock until only the fat tip remains pushed inside. The drag of it against his oversensitive walls leaves him writhing and whimpring, trying to pull away from the iron grip you have on his hip. Your soiled hand comes up to his face, mockingly patting his burning cheek with it, while grazing his drool covered lips with your dripping thumb. „An exchange is always mutual,“ he hears you whisper into his ear. „And as far as I‘m aware… I haven‘t come yet.“ . ۫ ꣑ৎ . a/n: i got side-tracked after browsing kinichs tag, its not my fault this man is extremely breedable, anyways have something short while i cook up something for the result of the poll

[emmyrosee]

I NEED more fluff sukuna I don't even care what it's about😭

You think sukuna is at his best when he’s like this: his body sprawled on top of yours, arms locked around your torso while his cheek stays smushed against your chest, half asleep from the feeling of one of your hands gently carding his hair, messing up the haphazardly styled locks. Your free hand scrolls through your phone, watching whatever videos social media suggests for you, while in the background, midday talk shows mumble softly.

Your hand moves down to gently rub the nape of his neck, where the buzzed hairs are growing a bit longer now. He shivers and burrows deeper against you, and you chuckle, “sorry, baby boy.”

“Don’t call me that, and I know you’re not sorry,” he murmurs drowsily. You scratch your fingers there again, and he grumbles, “I will straight up kill you.”

“Not my fault the big bad sukuna is ticklish there,” you hum.

“I hate that word and you know that,” he hisses. “You’re lucky I’m comfortable, dickhead.”

“You are comfortable,” you hum, resting your phone on your chest to press a kiss to the crown of his head, your arms wrapping around him. He curls in closer, and you chuckle softly. “My cuddly man.”

“I hate when you talk to me.”

You snicker, only to be interrupted by the buzzing of your phone on your chest. You move your arms to answer it, and when you do, immediately, one of his massive paws comes up to grab one of them, pulling it back down. “No.”

“Baby, it’s Choso, I have to answer-“

“Never mention my brother when I’m comfortable,” he interrupts. “Pet my hair more.”

“I will, after I answer this text-“

“No.” He ruts his head against your hand in demand.

You sigh, but ultimately, you’re smiling as you plop your phone back on the couch next to you, settling in for the next god knows how many hours, one hand carding Sukuna’s pink locks, the other arm cradling him close.

“I love you, sukuna,” you whisper.

He hums in acknowledgment, but he presses a small kiss to your chest as a small “love you too” back.

[bbq-potato-chip]

[aroacesetitoff]

I rewatched sophmore year so have some low quality children my beloveds

[ID: Doodled headshots of The Bad Kids from Dimension 20: Fantasy High, as as well as Ayda and Ragh. End ID]

ID courtesy of @fagdykevash thank you <33 pls reblog this version y'all

[acid-ixx]

Wouldn’t it be funny if Reader shows just a tiny amount of happiness to any one of the batfam, and the next thing you know they try their best to make Reader to do it again.

Example:

Dick:Makes a silly joke

Reader: Actually smiles and laughs at it

Dick: gloats about it to the fam

The BatFam: practically on all fours chasing after Reader to try and make them laugh

Don’t stress out with your writings (btw love your ‘again & again’ series❤️)

Take your time and don’t forget to drink water🫶🫶🫶

laughter is the best medicine

ft. yan! dick grayson, jason todd, and damian wayne

— masterlist !

more beneath the cut ! fluff ? with a mix of yandereness is my thing hehe. i love this ask sm <3 you guys are being fed well today !!!

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

ugh they're the definition of giving someone an inch and they'll be taking a mile. it would especially be annoying if it were dick on the receiving end of the line. but even if he'd be the one you'd take most precaution to, don't underestimate just how much your opinion holds the most value in the family. so they'll most definitely gloat about their achievement of making you smile or hell, even leaning against their shoulder willingly calls for a celebration.

trust me when i say that living in a stuffy manor already sucks, and they don't exactly like seeing you sulk and merely rot in your bed all day. so like any loving family would do, they'll try their damn best to at least see a quirk of your mouth or that faint glimmer in your that dick oh-so enchantingly talk about.

so it comes to them in the form of a surprise that one day, when your oldest brother accidentally trips over one of your expensive novelty ballpen, instead of nearly shouting at him for breaking one of your favorites, it was the "oomph!" sound his throat makes and his wide eyes when his ass directly landed on the floor that makes you crack into small giggles.

if it weren't for his enhanced hearing, dick would've crossed out your laughter as a hallucination, a product of imagination, something entirely impossible to produce, but no.

he had proven himself wrong.

once he turns back at you, he sees the crinkle of your eyes and your palm trying to cover your shit eating grin. the plump of your cheeks are so accentuated that he forgets the initial embarrassment he feels in the first place, replaced with awe at just how artfully captivating his sibling looks; sitting by

it's like a painting, he wishes it was. he wishes tim would be quick enough to capture the succession of your smiles in the live camera feed.

all because he couldn't believe it. couldn't believe that his baby bird is laughing. they're laughing and they look so mirthful and full of life when doing so.

yes, you're laughing at him, at his stupidity for being unable to detect a mere ballpen despite being trained to locate every known obstacle in a field.

but fuck, he was already raised at a circus to fulfill the role of an acrobat who entertains the crowd. what more could it be if that means he could play the role of a clown for you, his baby bird worth more than a thousand lives, whose laughter is equivalent to the immense euphoria that is filling his entire being?

give him an inch and he'll take an entire mile.

the next day, you'd be greeted with... a lot of peculiar instances within your family. all of which you would laugh at because it's not typical that your family displays mistakes, and you feel a bit better about yourself when their imperfections seem to seep out of their being— or maybe it's just your thoughts eating you up again, because is it just you or did jason, tim, and even damian, manage to at least trigger a reaction out of you?

tim would accidentally end up drinking orange juice right after brushing his teeth. his cringing expression, choked gargling and immense spitting is enough to guarantee a light chuckle from your seated form as you ate your cereal in peace, watching him as he tries to rid of the bitter taste on his tongue. although, bitter as it may, the sweetness and the aching of his tooth overpowers the regret he fills for gulping an entire bottle of orange juice down his throat.

he's so glad that he had set up multiple cameras and recorders at different angles prior to your time spent with him because he just couldn't stop watching your reaction in loop whilst he tried to continue his investigations within gotham's latest crime news. yet no matter how hard he attempts to control himself, his eyes couldn't stop looming over to your form, finding your reaction too incredibly cute to be ignored. yeah, he'll do his duties later. for now, he just needs to... screenshot every single frame of your expressions.

jason isn't much of a joker but when reading you one of your favorite stories, he had managed to mispronounce one of the words so badly that it ruined the narrative of the classical book he was voice acting for you. it was a stupid thing to laugh at, but for a guy like jason, who was an english nerd in his very prime, it would be hilarious— especially when his gothamite accent seeps into his vocabulary; which is very unbefitting for the voice of a character who was a princess that loves to wear frilly, pink dresses.

imagine a man, with a growl that vibrates through his skull, and muscles that bulge through his shirt, voices a princess of all people! his high pitched register for the character was already grating to your ears, but the sudden shift from an airy and girlish to deep and gruff with an added effect of a voice crack at the word "cake" was enough to let you burst out into laughs, your giggles echoing through the comfortable silence of the manor's library. for the first time in a while, you let jason wrap his arms around your shoulder, asking for your input about his tremendous acting skills.

jason never had many moments to cherish within the manor, preferring to stay over and outside of bruce's radar, but god does he love going through the batcave's live feed just to zoom in on your expressions, the grin on your face heavily reminds him of himself, back when he was the oblivious robin with no idea of what was coming to him. yet only now, he swears to protect your smile from never faltering.

damian takes his artistry skills seriously, constantly making a show of bragging to you whenever he has the opportunity to. but this time, he was incredibly pissed at drake for accidentally squeezing all the paint from the tube of oil paints he had stored by the drawers, and it was a shade closest to your skin tone, too; he meant to use that tube of paint for his next portrait of you. so like the petty child he is, damian sets on an hour long routine of drawing tim with monstrous features that screams the opposite of what he sports.

that means he had drawn multiple variants of tim with a hideous, actual bowl cut one. no seriously, his hair was a bowl and the strands that peeked out of it were spaghetti strands. in another drawing, his red robin outfit consists of plucked feathers and an elongated beak for its mask, what seems to be the pocket for the eyes now replaced with cat-like slits that makes the vigilantes expression looker idiotic and downright stupid. yet it felt therapeutic for damian to draw that his brother with what he felt was enough revenge to exact upon drake. that scum deserved a horrendously made portrait of him.

what he didn't expect was that you had stumbled upon his atelier, wanting to cure your boredom by painting a scenery when all of a sudden you had to drop all your equipment from your hands because... what the fuck was damian painting...? why is tim crawling across the floor in one of the portraits...? it takes a second or two for you to register the drawing's very detailed portrayal of a literal bowl cut, your laughter bursting out of the seams because no fucking way did damian actually draw something so hilarious and unserious. if you were anybody else, damian would've kicked your shins so violently you would've required a visit to the hospital. but because it's you... he chooses to sulk in the corner with puffed cheeks and burning ears as you approach the painting with said curiosity of a child and a laughter you can't stifle so easily.

at least it got you to stay in the same room as him for about an hour, with you giving your youngest brother more ideas to make the drawings even more unsettling than they already were, to which damian takes your tips to heart.

after you had eagerly (and shyly) showed the entire family you and damian's shared creation of a monstrosity, tim swears he'll never squeeze a tube of damian's paint anymore.

[koolades-world]

there was never a boring moment with the brothers, and roadtrips were arguably the most interesting.

to start, the car was barely large enough for all of you. the back row technically only had two seats, but you crammed and made it work. however, that was only the beginning of your problems.

you might have been able to (barely) for the entire family in the car, but that left little to no space for bags. you, levi, lucifer, and beel essential played a huge game of tetris, slotting in luggage where you could, and as much as you could. some of the luggage did have to go on the roof, but it was a necessary sacrifice.

the next issue that always rose inevitably was the seating arrangements.

lucifer and mammon were the only two who drove. you could, but were usually needed to help break up bickering, even if mammon was supposed to be busy with driving.

something that didn't change, regardless of the driver, was the levi was happy sitting in the back row. he had his own set up, no matter where in the row he was. belphie was also happy in the very back, as long as he had his cow spot pillow and blanket. beel also always sat in the middle row, because he needed the space.

when lucifer drove, while he'd prefer to have you on the passengers side, it usually went to asmo. he and mammon were the two biggest instigators, and mammon was more likely to cause issues up front. asmo was actually helpful, and helped lucifer with whatever he needed. this left satan, you, and mammon. of course, everyone wanted you to sit next to them. because of this, the three of you rotated where you sat. when mammon got too rambunctious with asmo, he'd be banished to the back row. when satan got too worked up with being in the same car as lucifer for too long, he went to the back to unwind. and when you were tired, you curled up with belphie in the back.

when mammon drove, asmo couldn't sit up front, so lucifer would instead. this left asmo, satan, and you to rotate through the car, so you did so in a similar way when lucifer drove.

whoever sat on the passengers side had to help with navigating, and collecting the consensus from the rest of the car for breaks and food. it was a job both lucifer and asmo excelled at for very different reasons. stops didn't happen often when lucifer drove, but mammon seemed willing to stop every half hour if nobody stopped him.

depending on where you sat in the car, what you'd spend your time doing varied. if you were in the back row, you were usually slumped against belphie, fast asleep. somehow, he made it comfortable. if you happened to be awake, levi would be telling you all about what he happened to be playing. if you were in the middle row, you were welcome to help yourself to whatever beel was munching on. if asmo was next to you, the two of you spent most of your time messing around with filters. there were hundreds, and some were better than others, so you always ended up with at least a couple silly photos to help you remember the trip by. if you were next to satan, you were guaranteed a quiet seat mate. the only thing he wanted was to hold your hand while he silently read <3. if you were next to mammon, the complete opposite was true. he was constantly flapping his gums, whether than be arguing with one of his brothers, or rambling to you about his last ear modeling gig. either way though, you still enjoyed his comforting presence. his voice could never become grating to you. if, for whatever reason, you happened to find yourself in the passengers seat, you were treated like the passenger princess you deserved to be. you got to control the music, and you were always treated to whatever amenities you wanted.

however chaotic the trip might be, you always enjoyed it. part of the journey was the road you took to get there, not just the final destination. the brothers probably would’ve ripped each other apart without you in the car anyways. what was a family vacation without the newest member?

[felicitywilds]

don't mind me, just thinking about how in every other graphic novel cover, the d20 is in the air, bouncing away from them, just out of reach, almost mocking them as it determines their fates. but for the suffering game, taako is on his knees, front and center, pinning it to the ground, umbra staff at the ready. has he got a fuckin' idea for you.

[musingsofahufflepuff]

If You Need My Love

sub!Mattheo Riddle x gn!reader; smut

summary: something about the way Mattheo’s dark chocolaty curls looked against the pillows and his body sweaty from quidditch practice made you want to suck the soul out of him. through his cock, obviously.

a/n: back by unpopular demand: me, with more matty blowjobs (& overstimulation) bc i just can’t help myself. + matty won the poll, so you degenerates must want it too 🫶 super short, oops. 18+ below the cut

Mattheo knocking at your door at odd hours of the night was something to be expected when you’d agreed to start dating him. Guaranteed, if he didn’t come to your dorm with you at the end of the day, he’d wind up there by the early hours of the morning.

That’s how you ended up with him sprawled across your bedsheets, his cock in your mouth and his fingers gripping the fabric beneath him. You’d lost track of how long you’d spent in this position, but really, you’d probably stay like that forever just to see the absolute wreck Mattheo’s become under your touch.

A string of gasped oh—fucks fall out of his parted lips as his abdominal muscles twitch with every lick to his just as twitchy cock. Your tongue runs along the vein on the underside of his shaft again as he whines, “I can’t���babe, please, too much—”

“Oh baby boy,” you purr, “it’s only been a couple, I think you can take just a few more. Have you been a good boy and kept count for me?”

His head tips back against the pillow, another sharp whine leaving him as you gently suck on the head of his cock, tongue massaging where the tip meets the shaft. “I—yeah…I think ah! four.” His hands scramble to grip the sheets like a lifeline as you take him fully in your mouth once again. It doesn’t take long to pull another one out of him, his entire body shuddering almost violently as near pathetic moans echo in the room. Nothing comes out of his spent cock, just needy little jerks in your mouth. “Okay! I did it, I did it, too much—”

You pull off with a pop and he immediately tries squirming away from more. “Sweet boy, I thought this is what you wanted?” You don’t let him get far, one hand holding his hip down and the other coming up to move his sweaty curls away from his face.

Mattheo pants softly, trying and failing to regain control of his breathing. It was a rare and downright sinful sight, him splayed out on the bed and at your mercy. His abdomen spasms once more, hips involuntarily bucking up for more contact.

You lean down like you’re about to take him back into your mouth until the last second, you redirect and bite the tender flesh of his inner thigh. “I asked a question Matty, c’mon, gimme an answer.” He gasps and attempts to jerk his leg away from the light sting of your teeth.

“I did—yeah, wanted your mouth—”

“Then what’s the problem?”

You don’t give him a chance to respond, tongue tracing a line from his balls up to his tip. He lets out a strangled, overstimulated moan while his cock jumps slightly against you. You press a delicate kiss to his shaft before enveloping his cock in your warmth again and you swear there’s almost tears in those pretty brown eyes.

You slowly press down, his tip running along the roof of your mouth at a torturous pace. He brushes the back of your throat as your nose presses into his pelvis and he whimpers. Tongue massaging the underside of his shaft all the while, your eyes flick up to his sweaty, blissed out face.

Mattheo is panting and moaning like he’s seeing god, thighs twitching and squeezing your head between them. “I—fuck! fuckfuckfuck—” he gasps followed by your name like a prayer on his lips. Then his entire body is spasming again, tears pricking behind his eyes from exhaustion, cock pushing further down your throat.

You drag your mouth off of him as the first tear rolls down his pretty cheek. Catching it with your thumb, you carefully lick it away. He’s still trembling as pleasure runs through him in waves, coming down from the high. His breath is shaky as you press a series of soft kisses across his face. “You did so good Matty. You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

You roll onto your back and pull him to your chest for him to relax and regain functionality of his brain. It takes a few moments of peaceful silence, wrapped in each other before he’s smirking, “so, your turn?”

[gofishygo]

simon 'ghost' riley / reader: no content warnings

in the military, ghost is good at working with other people. it's his job as a lieutenant after all, to help out his colleagues- from coaching how to scope accurately to lifting cars off trapped teammates in the midst of gunfire.

but at home, he only provides for himself. well, at least before he'd met you.

he has one set of utensils. two bedsheets that he changes from time to time. probably less than ten articles of clothing, since he's practically never home- either in his gear or fatigues most of the time. if he'd gotten the chance, he would probably cut his dining table in half too, can't stand the empty space that seems to taunt him.

and then you come along, with all your eccentricness and ideas and bright eyes, stumbling into his life with brightness he has only seen from the scorching sun, and no matter how much he tries to pry you off, you're properly stuck, glued by his side, refusing to leave. of course he has to take you home, now that you've wormed this deeply into a soul that he thought was dead. and hear you are, ripping him a new one over his kitchen, or lack thereof- 'seriously, simon- you use the same three bowls for everything? and why is the milk in your fridge two months old?' and berating all the little cigarette burns on the clothes that he swears are still useable.

when you both eventually fall asleep curled up and tangled together in a too-small bed, he has one hand carding in your hair, holding your head, whilst the other scrolls on his phone, for maybe the first time ever. eyes flick between you in his arms and the shopping cart on his screen.

by the next week, there's a second chair for his dining table, and an even prettier bird in it, smiling at him so sweetly.

[calciumyum]

is this how the achaean army expected him to react