#i can't stop thinking about it but i can't draw shit for it and i'm kinda dying

[amourtoken]

yes PLEASE write about quinn knocking you up and also please never stop writing smut i feel FERAL

I got a couple asks about this so let me roll them all into one here yall are horny unhinged individuals together now

Quinn is unfortunately insanely susceptible to baby fever. He can't help himself, the thought of having a little extended family to provide for is sweet enough on its own but getting there is what he's really been focused on recently. He cannot clear his mind of the idea at all and it's starting to effect every aspect of his life. His thoughts are always frenzied and his brain fuzzy, he can barely focus on the ice and you constantly catch him zoned out and have to draw his attention back to you. What's he even thinking about?

This all started after he saw you interacting with some kids at a charity event. He didn't think it'd be a personal attack on his psyche to see you leaning down to their level so they felt more included while you chatted about your days or whatever random thoughts of theirs that sprung to mind. They all seemed so happy in your presence and you've always just naturally been great with kids so it's no surprise to you, but Quinn instantaneously fell victim to the infectious thought process of parenthood.

all he's thought about for days is how pretty you'd look pregnant and how good of a parent you'd be. Would your kids have your smile? Your eyes? Hopefully they had your sweet personality at the very least. You two could be the overly supportive cheesy hockey parents when your kid got a little older too, if they took after him and wanted to play. Quinn would fall down these hour long rabbit holes in his own mind of what your future would look like with an addition to the family and it was becoming more and more of a necessity every day.

Eventually it gets to a point where he can't fucking contain it anymore and he lets the idea slip while he's got you pinned to the mattress below him.

Quinn's fingers are holding your hips tight enough to bruise while he's buried inside you, panting praises and explicit compliments against your neck in rhythm with his thrusts. He can't get the image of you all pretty and pregnant out of his brain at all, the only thing keeping him from it is a thin latex and a question really. He didn't wanna ruin the moment but it was out of his control at this point, the need overtaking critical thinking skills.

"Fuck- please let me put a baby in you- shit- p-please- c-can't stop thinkin' about it- fuck i need it so bad...'m sorry-"

His voice sounded so broken, moans and whines cutting through his words against his will. You had no idea he felt this way and fuck you wish he'd said something sooner because you've been going through the same misery he has. For the same reason. The same exact event that permeated his peace with the idea of kids with you was the one that had you dizzy thinking about him being a dad. Safe to say your communication skills were lacking during this cause both of you were afraid to ask but now that you're on the same page? You're in for it.

You respond enthusiastically, nodding quickly and immediately pleading for him to do just that. Quinn's chest fluttered at your whined pleas and as much as it pained him to pull out in the moment it was definitely worth it to sink back into you raw. He wanted this to last forever but the way you felt so fucking warm and wet around him was ultimately his undoing, much to his own protest. He didn't wanna finish without dragging you along either, his thrusts fell out of rhythm as he snaked a hand between your bodies to circle your clit, trying his best to take you with him.

"Shit- you're gonna be so pretty- fuck- god I'm so fuckin' lucky-"

Your nails sunk into his shoulders as you pulled him closer, legs shaking as you tipped off the edge of your orgasm with a whine of his name. He almost immediately followed you, hands gripping behind your knees to fold you in half under him, allowing him to sink deeper than before. Quinn's vision blurred with black spots and his voice pitched up into whiney pleas as he filled you up, finally getting what's plagued him for fucking weeks now. Doesn't matter if this was the time that did it or not, he was dead set on fucking you full of his cum over and over and over until you got the results you both wanted (and then some extra for good measure ofc)

[spinjitsuburst]

been thinking about this all day but we know everyone’s made a Kai Possessed by Morro AU sometime or other

but i raise you

Morro possessing the OTHER ninja and what that would look like individually

I wanna see Zane with rusted parts and glowing green face plating

I wanna see Cole with glowing green lava arms

I wanna see Jay using the powers of wind and lightning together as a stormbringer (ignore that One Time jay used wind canonically we don’t talk about that)

just. the other ninja possessed by Morro please

[retrogradedreaming]

I need to start thinking of ideas for the prompt list I made to get myself to sketch more in October, but instead I'm drawing self-indulgent comics about cats 😭

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[seaofreverie]

So busy with Sparkstember that I almost forgot that I go back to school on tuesday

[hislittleraincloud]

Fucking nah uh.

WHY this weird shit keep happening to me?

Your Girl, 1 (now 2) hours ago:

Me, 5 days ago on Wednesday (in a conversation with Fic Wife):

I mean, I guess that the top whore!Wednesday model in my messages works for Afterburn Wednesday, but still that's not the point....

[marklikely]

letterboxd app apparently has added video ads bc i tried to view my activity and got hit with a 15 second unskippable ad... and deleted the entire app within 10 seconds of encountering this...

[taniushka12]

honestly if fucking..... alexcasey and ilmo and ahti are in nightless night you fucking KNOW alice and barry are in tom the poet, like conceptually, you know in your heart this is true

[krash-8]

oh fuck oh shit oh fuck oh shit life really is beautiful little you was right oh fuck oh shit oh f

[kindaeccentric]

I'm in bed on this gloomy Saturday morning thinking about how I'm never going to be a great artist in any area and therefore my life will never be satisfactory

[non-un-topo]

At the crossroads between wondering if it's worth it to basically completely rewrite all my WIPs or just take a break from writing for the rest of the summer

[iiiiiiis-things]

idk just thinking about how you burst into your home damn near slamming the door shut, only for toji to stop it with the large palm of his hand before he smoothly walks in behind you. you're on 10 right now, stomping and shouting around the house (while your husband follows like a lost puppy) until you make your way to the kitchen yelling something about how it was "totally unnecessary to punch him" honestly toji didn't even know what the hell you were going on about, i mean he wasn't even listening. he silently convinced himself that it wasn't his fault- no it was definitely yours that he couldn't focus on the sweetness of your voice. i mean he just couldn't stop himself from trailing his eyes down to your ass, sinfully watching from his stance at the doorway as it jiggled with each hard step you took. "you can't keep doing this shit man-" your words go in one ear and out the other, again wasn't his fault, he can't help but think about is how fucking sexy you look right now. lace tussled into a slight mess, lip gloss smeared across your puffy lips because of how much you opened your fat ass mouth out of anger, and that dress ? oh that dress is what gotten you in the situation in the first place, the way it hugged your frame perfectly, mapping out each of your curves in all the right ways. had you not wore it like he told you to he wouldn't have had to beat his boss ass for staring at you a little to long. lashes that had been ripped off are still in his car, sitting prettily right on his dashboard, he couldn't care less in fact he was glad you took em off ecstatic even, toji loved to see you natural, toji thought you were so god damn fine

"what ?"

...did he say that out loud ?

"nothin'" he muffled out "are you even listening? see this the shit i'm talking about-"

toji wanted nothing more than to bend you over the kitchen island and shut your big ass mouth with each deep stroke he gave you, dick hitting deep in that gummy area that always turned you into mush whenever he found it, but alas he didn't, he knew you were angry, just didn't know why. aren't you glad he protected you from the preying eyes of his boss ? did it cost him his job ? maybe.. but it doesn't matter because it was all for you, his lovely wife. "here asshole" toji finally snapped out of his head when he felt you shove something against his chest before walking off. noodles ... you made him-

"a cup of noodles ?" he questioned following you out the kitchen "you didn't eat at the party." the scar on his pretty lips decided to rise. oh how sweet you were, even after being so pissed at his possessiveness you still cared enough to make sure he ate before the night was over but there was still one problem.. "you didn't either" "i'm not hungry." once you reach the bottom of the stairs he stops dead in his tracks "baby- where you going ?" "to bed." no hug ? no kiss goodnight ? no invite ? oh he fucked up.

smut! under the cut (18+)

"now do you forgive me?" voice comes muffled from beneath you as you ride out your nth climax of the night your husband had been sucking and licking into you for hours drawing out orgasm after orgasm. and shit were you ovulating? because you just can't get enough. "fuck" you roll you head back in pleasure riding the sweet sensation of his nose repeatedly brushing against your clit

*smack!*

"i asked you a question mama" you moan loudly at the combination of the nickname and his tongue thrusting in and out of you hitting that special spot each time. "y-yes baby" you grind down to match the rhythm of his tongue as he begins to play with the fat of your ass tugging and gripping tightly, encouraging you to move your hips faster "'m sorry baby, so so sorry" his lips wrap around your rednend clit while he stuffs two fingers into you. at this point you were so overstimulated but you just couldn't stop riding his face even if the world was ending. bringing a hand to his hair you push it back unveiling those gorgeous green eyes. toji looks up making eye contact with you, you begin feeling the tension that was building up about to finally burst (again) "i didn't mean to upset you" he wraps his fore arms around your things getting you to grind down even harder against his perfectly fat nose "i-it's okay toj- fuck you're so deep" "i just don't like when other boys stare at you" he couldn't even bring himself to call his boss a man. a man would never violate a women's privacy like that, basically eye fucking her while she's out with her man. you felt everything, every touch, and god you were so hot, moans were leaving your mouth left and right as you felt him continue sucking, his fingers thrusting into you so desperately as if they were asking for forgiveness too.

this was gonna be a longggg night .

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

The great thing about having an awful memory is that you get along really well with people with Alzheimers. "Grandma kept forgetting your name I'm so sorry about that" I forgot her name in that conversation three times also. It's not a personal slight. "Grandpa keeps thinking he's still working on the farm they sold twenty years ago" yeah he can't remember much and he's extrapolating from older memories and context clues. Like me trying to remember where I know the woman who talked to me for ten minutes in the grocery store from. The last thing he remembers is being a farmer and he's holding a pitchfork in the garden, of course he's going to farm shit. If I can't remember why I came into the kitchen but there's a teabag in one hand and a mug in the other, I draw the obvious conclusion and make a cup of fucking tea. "Auntie May mustn't have long for this world, she keeps forgetting her parents died years ago" bitch I get a sudden burst of serotonin AT LEAST once per week when I'm thinking about my stepfather and suddenly remember that he's been dead for five years. Stop riding these old people so hard. Put anything poisonous somewhere they can't get into it and let them live their fucking lives. AND STOP REMINDING AUNTIE MAY THAT HER PARENTS ARE DEAD AND QUIZZING HER ON IF SHE CAN REMEMBER. SHE WONT "GET BETTER". YOU'RE UPSETTING HER FOR NO FUCKING REASON.

[ddejavvu]

i love love love your work you’re so talented!! ☹️ got me checking for updates everyday omg

can i pretty please request mean!logan x crybaby!overstimulated!reader who can’t stop squirting lolll 😭 love u!!!

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

contents/warnings: smut, minors dni. mean!logan, crybaby!reader, squirting, oral sex (f receiving), don't like don't read.

You can't quite figure out what's different about this time than the others. Logan is always good at what he does, but maybe it's because this time he hasn't shaved for a few days, leaving his lower face covered in a thick layer of rough stubble. Maybe it's because you'd had a dream about Logan last night that had you waking up in a sweat, pussy throbbing and stomach clenching. Maybe it's because you'd spent all day thinking about it, remembering the way it had felt, the things you'd seen, the way it had driven you so close to the edge of an orgasm even in your sleep with no contact. You really, truly needed Logan today, and now that he's feasting between your thighs you feel yourself coming to a climax that you fear the intensity of.

You've cum hard before, but never like this. It's a full-body experience, white hot tension spreading outwards through your limbs like a live wire sparking and burning anything it can reach. It's all-encompassing like the way Logan's hefty muscle envelops you so easily, and your fingers dig what you're sure are painful, crescent-shaped marks in Logan's scalp as you latch onto him and tug him closer.

You realize halfway through your climax that there's something more happening- and for a half-second your heart stops as you think you're letting out more than you'd intended. But Logan groans, licking a long, languid stripe over your spasming cunt and pulling back to watch.

"Logan-" You gasp, mortified as he studies your pussy. His face is messy- more than usual, and you realize that you're squirting. You're still squirting, aided by Logan's fingers that replace his tongue as he stares hungrily at your release.

"Shit. You're like a fuckin' fountain. That good, huh?"

"Aah!" You cry as Logan's long finger bottoms out in your cunt, still sensitive but uncontrollably gushing impossible amounts of your release. He dips back down to lick at your pussy again, catching more in his mouth, and your body finally decides it's run dry, leaving you panting as Logan cleans your sensitive sex.

When he draws back you watch him scrub a hand over his beard, the short, stiff hairs mangled with a thick layer of your slick. He's always been a messy eater, but you certainly didn't help by squirting in his face.

"That was good." He notes gruffly, casual to the point where you're not sure if he's on the same page as you; he just watched you squirt, right? He's acting casual, save for a hunger in his eyes that lingers longer than usual, and you wonder if he's forgotten that your release had hit the back of his throat like his so often hits yours.

"I'm sorry." You feel the need to babble out an apology, still struck dumb from your own orgasm, "I- I didn't mean to- was that, is that- normal?"

Logan snorts, still staring at your puffy, sensitive pussy. He runs his already-sticky finger down its slit and you hiss from the overstimulation, wriggling away from his touch.

"Normal when you feel really good, sweetheart." He hums, dragging his hand up over your bare abdomen and leaving a glistening trail of your release there, "Now, clean off my hand- that's good, that's right." He hums, tucking his long, thick fingers into your mouth and letting you suck the slick off of them, "And when you're done with that, I'm gonna see how many more times I can get that pussy to squirt tonight."

[comicaurora]

Hey, sorry if you’ve been asked this before, but I have ADHD and I’ve been following your comic for years and just now have started to write my own comic (partially because you really inspired me). But I’m really struggling with staying on the project even when it’s boring and getting myself to work on it in the first place. Do you have any tips on how to keep your brain invested or just to make yourself do the work at all?

I have excellent news, I literally just figured out something really important about this.

So when you're an ADHD kiddo or otherwise have difficulty staying on task in a structured environment where Task is the Priority, the main way people try to MAKE you stay on task is by removing your access to anything that is not The Task. No phone, no TV, no doodling, no going outside, etc. In practice, this just makes us miserable because it takes the boredom that's always simmering around a 2 or 3 and cranks it all the way up to 11. In the same way that you would have difficulty staying on task if you were in physical pain, this crushing existential monotony makes it very difficult to work. The work might get done simply because you have no other options, but it will not be done quickly or well, and it will take a while to recover from how much it hurt.

What I realized earlier this week is I caught myself doing this to myself. I had 42 pages of background colors to do, and I thought to myself "this sounds really tedious, but I suppose I have nothing better I can do." And I realized what I'd just thought, and got very alarmed.

Because back when I was an ADHD kiddo imprisoned by school scheduling and a million little factors that keep children immobile and restrained, I couldn't stop thinking about how big and exciting the world was, and how much I wanted to be anywhere but here. When I was feeling really crushed in I'd pick a random spot on the maps on my wall and just imagine being there instead of my bedroom. This was the impetus behind almost all of my creative energy. I've said it before - anything is a prison if you can't leave, and being in a prison makes it easy to imagine how amazing things could be outside of it. Aurora's initial worldbuilding was forged in the crucible of fifth grade misery. My enthusiasm for art and my creative drive are inextricable from my sense of wonder and yearning for excitement in the real world. Not escapism, but appreciation. Wonders unimaginable are out there, and I gain just as much joy seeking them out as I do conjuring them up in my head and sharing them with all of you.

So now that I'm a grown-up with actual freedom in every way I've been able to get, the idea that I was staying on task by making myself believe the world was small and not worth seeing was extremely alarming. It could keep me on task for an afternoon, but at the cost of slowly extinguishing the thing that made me want to make art in the first place - the hunger to experience and draw inspiration from all the myriad complexities in the world.

So what I've been doing is I've been purposefully and intentionally taking excursions whenever I catch myself thinking "I could take a break but it wouldn't be worth it, it's the same outdoors as always, I'll be uncomfy and unproductive and tired." Because that is never true. Every time I've put down the stylus and gone out, I've been renewed in one way or another, and when I come back to comfort fully recharged I get a lot of shit done. Because it is easier to work on anything if you remember why you wanted to make it in the first place, and it is self-defeating misery to just lock yourself in with it and tell yourself you're a bad person if you can't get it done.

I honestly don't know how widely applicable this is. I have worse wanderlust than anyone I know, so for me this has always been modeled as imprisonment vs freedom. I've also been extremely lucky to find myself in a profession that lets me set my own pace on literally everything I do. But I genuinely believe that when it comes to making art with ADHD, you need to give yourself freedom to move laterally, not just in the direction of obvious forward progress. We don't think linearly in any other part of our lives - art is no different.

[steddie-as-they-come]

everybody talks

i could not tell you what this is. i wrote it all in one sitting. enjoy or whatever

It starts with the graffiti.

Scribbled in thick, permanent marker across the boys' gym lockers.

STEVE HARRINGTON FUCKS EDDIE MUNSON

The custodian tries half-heartedly to scrub it off, but he only manages to get about a letter and a half off the locker before his shift is over. It's back up by the next day anyway.

Half the school is walking on tiptoes around Steve, waiting for him to blow up and demand a manhunt for the culprit.

The other half is snickering and laughing as he walks by in the halls.

Steve doesn't give two shits. He holds his head up high and walks onwards, ignoring the laughs and the kissy noises. He needs to graduate. He needs to not get eaten by a terrifying monster from an alternate reality. More pressing things happen to Steve Harrington than grade school graffiti.

Until he turns the corner and sees Eddie Munson glaring furiously at his closed locker.

He doesn't speak to him. Even if the graffiti isn't a big deal, there's no need to add any fuel to the fire.

Eddie finally steps forward and wrenches open his locker door. The crowd milling in the halls begins to laugh.

Papers spill out, dozens of them, cascading over the floor and burying Eddie's shoes. One slides all the way to Steve's feet.

He looks down automatically.

There's an atrocious drawing of two stick figures bent over each other. The one on the bottom has two lines of curly hair, while the one on the top has a singular swooping line of graphite.

Great.

Steve swiftly scoops it up and crumples it in his fist, shoving it in his pocket. He'll toss it out later.

As he hustles past Eddie, steadfastly not looking in his direction, he thinks he hears Eddie mutter, "Every class period."

Steve turns a corner, and the train wreck that is Eddie's locker is gone.

He slides into his seat, knowing the band girls who sit in the back corner of the classroom are whispering about him, but finding he couldn't care less.

The teacher starts class.

He reaches into his pocket and slides the crumpled paper between his fingers, over and over.

Steve raises his hand. "Can I go to the bathroom?"

The teacher nods and waves him away, and Steve scrambles out the door, rounding the corner.

Eddie's still there, kneeling by his locker, trying to scoop up papers.

Steve kneels next to him. "Hey."

Eddie jumps like an alley cat that's been spooked. Steve could swear his hair starts bristling, puffing up.

"Your majesty," Eddie finally says, glaring back at the pile of paper like Steve'll disappear if he doesn't look at him. "To what do I owe the pleasure."

It's not really a question.

Steve answers it anyway. "Came to help," he says simply, picking up a piece of paper that has EDDIE MUNSON X STEVE HARRINGTON written on it in bold letters, surrounded by stupid little hearts. "After all, my name's on half this stuff."

"How kind," Eddie said. "Keeping me distracted while your buddies key my van or something?"

Steve reels back. "Huh?"

"I'm not dumb, Harrington," Eddie says, crumpling up another sheet of paper. Steve can barely catch EDDIE HARRINGTON on it before it's balled in Eddie's fist. "I get this is a prank or whatever. I just can't understand why you'd involve yourself with me. The King and the Freak."

"'Cause I'm not the King anymore." Steve says, standing to drag a nearby garbage can closer. It's already half-full of papers. "You sure don't listen to gossip, Munson. Billy beat my ass and I lost every friend I had. So. I think it's a prank on both of us."

"Oh."

Eddie, wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles, shuts the fuck up. Steve had seen people lose their meals to his impassioned school cafeteria rants, but it only takes Steve Harrington to shut Munson's infamous mouth.

Wait, that sounds wrong.

They keep cleaning in silence - relatively. Steve starts balling up the papers and tossing them at the trash can, unable to stop himself from hissing out a yes! if he makes the throw.

"Impressive," Eddie says dryly. "Can you do this?" He raises one hand in the air like he's about to take a pledge, and in the other he folds and rolls a slip of paper until it's shaped like a joint.

Steve chuckles. "Nope." He takes the fake joint, and it comes undone in his palm, revealing the same crude stick figure couple from earlier.

Right.

Steve had forgotten what they were doing here.

Evidently, Eddie had too. He looks down at the drawing, then snatches the paper from Steve, tossing it in the trash, two spots of pink high on his cheeks.

He scoops the last of the papers into his arms, dumping them in the trash can. "You can go back to class," he tells Steve, settling down with his back against the locker.

"What are you doing?" Steve says, slightly caught off-guard by the dismissal.

"Seeing if those pricks will try to do it again." Eddie says, folding his knees up to his chest. "They do it all the time. I think there's a jungle's worth of trees just being used to make shit for my locker."

"You're just gonna guard it?" Steve asks.

"Sure," Eddie says, picking at a piece of lint on his shirt. "What else have I got to do?"

Steve plops himself down next to Eddie. "I'll guard with you," he says stubbornly.

"Seriously?" Eddie asks, like Steve's particularly slow. Steve's gotten that tone of voice a lot in his life.

"Yeah." Steve says. He parrots, "What else have I got to do?"

"You're just gonna fuel the rumors, dude." Eddie says. "My name's mud around here. You know that damn well."

"Sure," Steve shrugs. "But it hasn't been half-bad hanging out with you, and I don't care what these jackasses think of me anymore. Bigger things to worry about."

They settle into a comfortable silence, watching the students pass by, their whispered comments and curious glances bouncing off the duo. Eddie taps his fingers rhythmically on the ground, humming a tune Steve doesn't recognize but finds oddly comforting.

He reaches into his pocket to feel the small paper, then tugs it out. Is it dumb that a stupid drawing is making him think about himself this much?

"Hey, Eddie," Steve starts, hesitating. "Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot," Eddie says idly.

"How do you... I mean, when did you know you were gay?" Steve asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Eddie's expression turns to one of suspicion, but he answers anyway. "I guess I always knew, deep down. But I really figured it out in middle school." He looks at Steve out of the corner of his eye. "Why?"

Steve bites his lip, considering his next words carefully. "I think I might be... different too. I mean, I've only ever dated girls, but lately, I don't know. I feel... something."

Something means he worried for weeks when Billy beat the shit out of him because suddenly all these feelings were tugging at his brain. Feelings for people like Eddie Munson.

Eddie's eyes widen slightly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. (What? Steve's not looking at his lips. Huh?) "Steve Harrington, the former King of Hawkins High, might not be straight? Now that's some gossip I'd actually pay attention to."

"Shut up," Steve mutters, but he's smiling too. "I'm serious."

"Well..." Eddie trails off. "We can try it out?"

Steve's heart skips a beat. "Huh?"

"We can try it out." Eddie repeats. "But, uh," he leans close, his breath ghosting over the shell of Steve's ear. "Just so you know, I prefer to be the one on top."

Weeks later, the school is overtaken by a new kind of graffiti. Papers plastered to every surface, a spiky handwriting (usually used to write setlists and D&D character sheets) adorning each and every one of them.

EDDIE MUNSON FUCKS STEVE HARRINGTON