#i fucking struggled with these tags goddamn

[marylily-my-beloved]

You guys.

If it's marylily, then there has to be dorlene, and pandora x sybill.

If its pandalily, then dorlene and emmary (emmeline x mary).

It its marylene, then dorlily and pandora x sybill x emmeline.

If its lilylene (lily x marlene) then it has to be dormary (dorcas x mary) and pandora x sybill

If its Mary x sybill, then it has to be dorlily and pandora x dorcas.

If it's dorcas x sybill, then it has to be marylene and pandalily

If its emmeline x lily, it has to be marylene and dorcas x pandora

but no matter what, it's always emma x amelia

[lordartsy]

Octokuber, day 4 - Sentai

Now while Gaoranger is technically the first sentai I sat down and finished, Abaranger was my first actual exposure to sentai because of. Well. Dino Thunder.

I can't reasonably be unbiased to Abaranger because that's MY show. It's got dinosaurs, Masaaki Endoh, and friggin' (gestures wildly) ABAREKILLER. I think this show sparked my love for pointy guy armor.

[silentwalrus1]

You know, i think the weirdest thing about people tagging my art “parental Royed” is that they clearly don’t mean it. it’s never about exploring any actual relationship these two characters have, it’s just a panic-label lest Someone online sees two men standing in the same image and instantly accuses the reblogger of pedophilia (never child soldier endorsement tho. Funny how that works). They’re like “if only I forcibly smush anything I see into the Found Family box then surely nobody can accuse me of homosexuality i mean being seen with the devil i mean UnChristian Thoughts. Surely this will protect me.”

Genuinely, if you see an image of two men interacting in any way and your first thought is “oh shit, I better make sure there’s no GAY PEDOPHILES in here!!!!”, consider who and what ideological position you are serving 

[triglycercule]

i want to headcanon the mtt having absolutely terrible hygiene and struggling to keep themselves clean (this MAY... just QUITE POSSIBLY.... only in the SLIGHTEST bit be projection) but i think it would be too gross and man EVEN I dont wanna think about that

also killer canonically smells good and i actually really LIKE that idea so oh shit there goes that idea out the window. horror and dust youre my only hope please let me make you smell bad for reasons you won't understand

[hauntingblue]

Hiyori is the most effective person to complete their kill so far

[the1trueanon]

every time i think "oh, twitter can't be that bad to share my art, other people use it, surely at least tweeting links to my work on other sites would be a good way to spread my art" twitter finds some way to announce it is, in fact, that bad and actually, it has decided to become much much worse -_-

[brattybottombunny]

vent in tags pls feel free to ignore

[vigilaent]

my cat will not stop having asthma attacks so i may be a bit scarce

[orcelito]

genuinely tho me jumping right into reading volume 9 of trimax and then volume 10 (and then most of the rest of the manga) on the night before i had a presentation at 9:30 am (that was entirely not prepared) was literally one of the most unhinged decisions ive ever made

this is what a hyperfixation does to a person

[mysunshine-youremoonlight]

i get told "you choose what to do" and then get yelled at for choosing what to do

[ladsofsorrow24]

why did no one told me that taping a sketch paper on my drawing tablet would make the pen feel less like drawing on a mirror

[crowsent]

pros of homestuck bitches taggin ships with the lil symbols: you know if youre readin blackrom or redrom

cons of homestuck bitches taggin ships with the lil symbols: you are specifically searchin for blackrom but ao3 does not discriminate and gives you 30k of the fluffiest toothrottin bullshit youve ever read when you want these two cunts to try and kill each other

[celestialmancer]

⛈️ ❌ ❌ ❌ // 2:09 am, tbd ;

[maskyartist]

*dips my toe in* hello tumblr minecraft community i have a problem and googling is only going so far with no answers :) i need gay people help,,,,

ANYONE KNOW WHAT TO DO ABOUT THIS CAUSE ITS DRIVING ME BONKERS

[adayumantium]

Anybody Seen My Baby?

Old Man Logan x gender neutral!reader Smut

a/n: I watched a certain livestream and knew what I had to do. Old Man Logan fuckers (and one bestie in particular <3), this one’s for you <3 divider by muruffin

Summary: in which Logan has to keep pushing his glasses up while he fucks you. 

W/C: 400

tags/warnings: Porn with ZEROOOO Plot, SMUT! MDNI!, unprotected sofa sex, age gap (bro is 200+), cursing, pet names (baby), creampies <3 not proofread fr

Who knew that sofa sex could be so good? Logan had you in his lap, your arms around his broad, scarred shoulders as he stretched you out. You picked up your pace, bouncing on him and loving the way Logan struggled to maintain his composure. His glasses started to slip down his nose as your pace increased, and you caught them with a nudge of your nose and a slip of your tongue into his mouth. 

His beard brushed your chin as your noises mixed together in the air, your bodies coming together with desperation and desire. You were obsessed with how he would pant and sweat, desperate to give you everything he had. 

“Fuck, fuck, baby, gotta stop that. I’m not what I used to be,” he mumbled, although his hands spoke a different story; he was still pushing you back down as you rose, forcing you down on his rock-hard cock. 

Logan’s hands left your hips briefly, pushing his glasses back up his nose once more. Despite his request, you kept your pace, desperate to make him come undone. 

“You know,” you purred in Logan’s ear, “if your glasses keep slipping, just take them off,” you insisted. 

“N-no, gotta see you,” his jaw clenched, rough hand desperate to find more of your skin. “That’s right, take what you need, baby,” he nodded with approval. “I’ve got you,” You thought his selflessness was sweet, but all you wanted was to have him fill you with his warmth. He’d always want you to finish first, you wanted him to finish first; it was the dance you always did. This time, you were going to win. 

 Despite your cock-drunk haze, you’d been meaning to try something new anyway. 

A shift of your hips. Forward. Back. Right. L. 

A sweet little circle. O. 

He started to register these new movements, intentional and different. 

You leaned forward with a smile. 

“You like it when I spell your name on your cock?” 

That’s all it took- two letters and Logan was desperate to come inside you. His hips bucked underneath you, sloppy as he grunts, letting his primal nature overtake him.

“Goddamn!” Logan muttered, his cock spilling into you as his hips started to sputter. 

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ve got you” you smiled, fixing his glasses again as you placed a sweet kiss on his head.

[fettuccin-e]

Honey-Sweet

Description: You're far too sweet for him. He's determined not to ruin you, despite the fact that he seems to ruin everything, and everything about you just seems to make his fantasies worse. But one night can change everything, apparently, when Miguel finally sees how completely not sweet you can be.

Tags: Miguel O'Hara x Reader, afab!fem!reader, hoooh boy a lotta smut okay, oral (m and f recieving), unprotected piv (pls oh pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids), riding, doggy, missionary, some fluff bc i'm not completely deranged, light degradation (w/c: 2.1K)

A/N: oh lord the Miguel brainrot is REAL folks okay this is fucking crazy. I WANT THIS MAN TO **** ** **** * ****** ******* okay he has me fuckin frothing at the DAMN MOUTH actin like a DAMN DOG okay so please enjoy a bit of a miguel smutfest

You’re too fucking sweet for him. That’s what he tells himself. Miguel O’Hara doesn’t do sweet.

You’re fucking sweet with the way you bring cookies in for the other Spiders that accompany you on missions. You’re sweet in how you brought in a ridiculous hand-made baby blanket for Mayday when Peter first brought her in, emblazoned with his Spider-Man logo to wrap her up tight in. You’d kissed the baby on the head, whispering tiny sweet nothings into her bright red hair, and Miguel had had to hide the emergence of his fangs at the sight of it.

You’re too sweet, too kind for him. You organize little movie nights at the office, you make him stay a little longer on missions so you can see the tourist spots from different universes. And the way you look at him, all wide-eyed and bright and smiling… it does things to him.

It makes him want to bring you flowers, kiss you on the cheek. It makes him want to plan fucking candle-lit dinners and bake cupcakes with you. All sweet, too sweet.

But, because he apparently can’t stop himself, you also want to make him do decidedly not sweet things. Like grab at your tits through your suit, pinching your nipples until your knees go weak and you whimper his name in your gorgeous little voice. Like force you down on your knees, fucking his cock into your hot mouth while tears leak down your cheeks. Like tying you up with his webs, eating your pretty cunt out while you struggle against them, whining that “it’s too much, too much Miguel.” Like fucking you deep, so fucking deep on his cock, making you squeeze around him while you scream for him, beg for him to fill you up with cum. He thinks about watching it leak out of your achy pussy, dripping down your thighs.

But you’re so goddamn sweet, too gorgeous and lovely, and he can’t ruin you, he can’t. 

So when you finally wear him down, finally get him to go to coffee with you, he tries to be just as sweet as you. You hold his fucking hand, you kiss him on the cheek. You smile into his mouth as his lips meet yours in front of your apartment door. Miguel swears that his heart will pop with how much it swells when you’re near him.

He brings you flowers, walks you to your door, brings you lunch while you’re filing post-mission paperwork. And God, it’s beautiful. It’s fantastic and bright and so wonderfully domestic that Miguel wonders if he’s died, gone to some heaven he doesn’t deserve. He’s determined to revel in the domesticity of this… thing he’s created with you, his disgusting fantasies be damned.

He doesn’t like to think about how he has to fuck his hand after he drops you off at your house, his lips still burning with the touch of your soft, soft kiss. He thinks about how your lips would look stretched around his dick.

He’s content. He’s happy. For the first time in so fucking long, he’s happy. And he’ll happily tug on his dick by himself for the rest of damn time if it means that he gets to revel in your soft, pretty, wonderful sweetness for a little bit longer. He will not ruin you.

But.

As he kisses you softly in front of your apartment, the both of you still suited up from your latest mission, you tug him closer. You pull him down into your hungry mouth, and you lick into him like you’re starving for it. He can’t help how he growls at the feeling of it, his big hands coming to clutch at your hips. God, you’re pretty, fucking addicting with the way your tongue tangles with his and how you whimper when his hands cup your ass, tugging you up just that extra inch.

“Take me to bed, Miguel,” you gasp between feverish kisses, and fuck, he’s gone.

He hauls you into his arms, and his knees almost go weak at the way you wrap your thighs tightly around his middle, the way you lick into his mouth all over again.

And Miguel has spent so much time in his head, thinking, no, knowing that you’re sweeter than goddamn pie. It’s in every fucking breath you take, every moment he spends with you. 

But that night, as he lays you onto the bed, gently, gently like you deserve, he learns that you’re not as sweet as he thinks you are.

Not at all.

Not with the way you roll him over with your strength, begging for him to disengage his suit, looking at him like you want to devour him as it dissolves around him, leaving him bare to your gaze. You graze a reverent hand up his chest as he heaves under you, whispering, “God, can’t believe I’ve waited this long to have you like this. You’re so pretty, Miguel.” 

Pretty. Pretty? He can’t be the pretty one, no, not when you’re unzipping your own suit, and he can see everything. Every inch of supple, soft skin. Your nipples, hard and peaked and begging for his touch. Your pretty, pretty pussy; he can see how you’re practically dripping, the wetness between your legs glistening in the soft lamplight.

And you’re not sweet, not sweet at all, when you nip and suck little marks down his chest and abs, grinning up at him like a damn siren when he gasps at your touch. Fuck, you’re the opposite of everything he thought when you take his cock into your mouth, bobbing deeper, deeper until you just can’t anymore, jacking the rest of his cock while you kiss and lick and suck at him.

You grab his hand with your free one, and pull it into your hair. You pull up from his cock, and Christ, there’s a line of your spit that connects you to his throbbing tip, and Miguel thinks that he might die. 

“Fuck my face, baby?” you rasp, and yes, that’s it, Miguel is going to fucking die here. But he can’t refuse you, with those gorgeous eyes gazing up at him, the tip of his cock on your tongue. 

It’s not sweet, not at all, when he forces your head down on his cock, pressing himself deep into your pretty little mouth. And you moan like you love it, just taking it as he thrusts roughly into your mouth. Your spit runs down his shaft, your little whimpers and the way you choke when the tip jams into the back of your throat all echoing in his ears. 

He can’t hear himself, but God, you can. You relish the way he growls every time he pushes you down deep, telling you that, “You’re such a good girl, hermosa. Mierda, mi nena perfecta.” Your pussy throbs.

He isn’t soft, isn’t gentle like he told himself to be when he pulls you off his cock. You gasp for air, and Miguel groans as he pulls you up by your hair, dragging your spit-slick lips to his mouth. He can taste himself on your lips, all sticky and hot and puffy. 

You whine against his mouth, murmuring little pleas of “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” into him, and his cock twitches, red and aching desperately for your touch. 

“Have to make sure you’re ready,” he mumbles, even though he aches, even though his claws threaten to show. 

“Nononono,” you whine, and then you sit back, hovering over his cock, fucking monstrous compared to the tiny opening of your dripping pussy, and press down.

Fuck, it’s like heaven inside you, all perfect and wet and hot, and you whine, muttering that, “It’s so fucking big, God, stretches me so perfect, so fucking perfect, so much bigger than I could have dreamed-“

“Nena,” he interrupts you with a hoarse groan of his own, “gotta stop, ‘s gonna, gonna hurt you, oh fuck-“ 

And you grin at him again, filthy and raunchy and not sweet at all, as you say “I fucking want it to hurt, Miguel. Wanna feel you in the morning, wanna feel you all the time.” And you press yourself the rest of the way down his thick cock, gasping for air, your hips twitching like they can’t decide whether to run away from the sensation or seek it. 

“Fuck, wanna feel you all the time,” you murmur and Miguel can’t decide whether you’re actually talking to him or not. “Want you to fuck me so hard I can’t breathe, fill me up so fucking perfect, God, oh my God, ‘m so fucking full,” you roll your hips forward in desperate little circles, a weak attempt at getting him deeper. An endless stream of “fuck me, fuck me, please please please,” starts to leave your lips again, and you sound so desperate, so needy, that Miguel can’t help but roll you over, pinning you underneath him, and fucking his cock so hard and so deep into you that you dig your fingers into his back and sob.

He does what you ask that night. He fucks you and fucks you and fucks you, until tears leak from your eyes and your bed is soaked with a mixture of yours and his cum. And God, you scream for him, begging him for more, deeper, harder.

The slick sounds of your bodies meeting over and over must be heard all over the building, but Miguel can’t bring himself to care, not when he’s able to fuck you like this, disgusting and filthy.

How could a sweet, lovely, soft thing like you love this so much?

From that night on, it seems that all bets are off. From that night on, it seems that you make it a mission to show him exactly how not sweet you are.

Fuck, there’s no sweetness to you when you hump your hips into his face the next morning, practically smothering him in your pussy as you squeal and tangle your fingers in his hair. He digs his fingers so hard into your thighs that he’s sure they’ll bruise, and licks up your juices. Your pussy is honey-sweet on his tongue.

You’re not soft when you ride him into the mattress, throwing yourself down onto his cock and moaning as you stretch yourself out. You drag your nails down his chest as you bounce desperately in his lap, and Miguel kind of hopes you draw blood.

There isn’t an ounce of innocence when you sink down on your knees under his desk when he’s in a goddamn meeting, pulling his cock out and sucking at him until his claws shoot out and leave splintering holes in his desk. He has to hide his fangs from the video camera when you choke. 

When he finally, finally cuts the meeting short, feeding the other Spider-Men some bullshit excuse about a new anomaly, he presses your head to the base of his cock and shoots his cum down your throat. He means it as a punishment, but when he pulls you off his cock, and sees you with your eyes all glassy and smiling lazily, he can’t help but bend you over the desk and finger fuck you until you cry and scream and beg for him to fuck you with his cock.

You are so far from sweet when he fucks you on the floor after a mission, tensions run too taut and adrenaline racing through your veins. You throw your ass back onto him with every thrust into your sloppy cunt, moaning as he growls, “Such a fucking slut, can’t get enough of this cock, huh? My sweet, sweet girl, what would the rest of the Spiders say if they knew what a fucking whore you are for me?” 

And when you choke on your spit around your screams, he leans down to whisper that, “I know, cariño, I know. I'm gonna take care of you,” before he shoves your face down into the carpet and mounts you, shoving his fat cock down into you again and again and again.

Miguel is positive that he’s died and gone to heaven.

It’s not to say that you’re not the same, sweet girl who brings cookies to the office and holds his hand. No, you’re the same, perfect, sweet girl, only that you let him thank you for the cookies by eating you out on the kitchen floor. You hold his hand while you jerk his cock and swallow his moans with your kiss.

You’re just the right kind of sweet for him.