#i’m just awkward about it

[bitchnojutsu]

here’s the thing. i’ve gotten in my own head. i feel like my fic ideas are too ambitious/bold for my skill level, specifically looking at writing sexy things. like i feel like if it’s gonna be weird conceptually it’s gotta be solid structurally, you know? but the little bit of smut i wrote like three(?) years ago makes me cringe (because i wrote it, and also i know it’s not totally amazing objectively, even though i published those short blurbs with the intent of revisiting/rewriting/expanding upon them at a later date) (also i’ll be so real, there’s not much irl inspo i can draw upon, if that wasn’t blatantly obvious) and i’m down to be self-indulgent and experimental but i also want to be proud of what i’ve written and hnnnnnnnnnngggggggg

[blackholemojis]

Finally finished the full body cane/crutch/rollator symbols!

[ID: several symbols of people standing with purple mobility aids. The types they have are as follows:

A person standing with a derby handle cane.

A person standing with an offset handle cane.

A person standing with a quad cane.

A person standing with a cane that can collapse into a tripod stool.

A person standing with a forearm crutch.

A person standing with two forearm crutches.

A person standing with two platform crutches.

A person standing with a rollator.

A person standing with an upright rollator.

/End ID]

[dollarstorefern]

*cough* if you hate amber volakis i hate you *cough* (just kidding!) (i’m not.)

[moonkhao]

WE ARE | EP16

[thepunkmuppet]

HAPPY GERARD DAY HELLSITE!!!!!!!

YIPPEE!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!!

[mmmairon]

Home was the only place left.

Prints

[ewwww-what]

Just watched boys night. Will never be normal again.

[5hrignold]

i meant to put this together days ago but here’s pim gifs from the new episode let’s all pretend it still just came out lalalala

[poppitron360]

People who read Percy Jackson as innocent children, how confused were you by the “Percabeth in the stables” scene in MOA? I’m curious to know what you understood of it, particularly as it’s meant to be a book targeted for kids and tweens.

[otaku553]

I have an agenda.

Long hair teenage sabo.

[giulzart]

But we just can’t keep away

When you know me like you do

It’s supernatural got me howling at the moon

[yuripira4e]

thinking about this one Superbat fic I read where they had to fake date or whatever but in it while they’re still in pre- relationship, they like fall asleep in the same bed, play games with their kids, and like shower while the other one is also in the bathroom and it’s like “oh yeah they’ve dealt with shit from crying into the others shoulder to literally trying to fuck each other during sex pollen episodes; there’s no world where they’re not the epitome of comfortable with each other even if they don’t think the other one returns their romantic feelings” and I just have to say I agree and I think about that hc at least once a week

[ahhrenata]

a little more steddie Star Trek au! Most of these are scenes from @sparklyslug’s amazing fic t’hy’la !! (although ones technically a redraw- I wanted to spruce it up a bit) and the last one is an extra doodle of them about to sneak a kiss :)

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

Jason, newly established crime lord known as the Red Hood, attends a meeting where the Batman gets dragged into the room halfway through, hopped up on the newest strain of cuddle pollen and about to be auctioned off to the highest bidder.

[firehose118]

“We’re just helping each other out on a long shift. It’s not gay,” Sal says into the air of the empty station bathroom as he wraps a hand around Tommy’s dick, and then in the same breath, “No one can ever know.”

Tommy nods, too far gone in the fantasy-come-to-life of what’s happening to dwell on the irony there. He’ll pick that apart later. For now, he has what he’s craved for so long within his grasp, he just has to reach out and take it.

He gets his hand on Sal’s dick in return and revels in the way it twitches under his touch. Tommy wants to moan with how good it feels to touch another man like this, to be touched by one. But he has to pretend this is friend stuff—normal straight guy shit, not the stuff of waking wet dreams—or else it will be taken away from him.

{finish on ao3 or continue below}

Tommy tries to match Sal’s pace: hard, fast, efficient. He thumbs through the liquid gathering at the head, twists his hand on the upstroke, but doesn’t let himself linger—even as his body is screaming for him to slow down and savor it. This might be his first and last chance to have this.

The way Sal is looking right at him is unexpected. He’d thought Sal would look away, pick a tile on the wall and stare at it, pretend this isn’t happening, but no: Sal is in it, studying Tommy’s face in that passive slack-jawed way of his. Tommy keeps his expression carefully neutral but he’s worried even that will give him away.

Sal’s mouth drops open on a silent moan when Tommy’s thumb drags along the vein on the underside just right, so Tommy does it again harder. He wants Sal to like this. He wants Sal to want to do this again.

Tommy is losing focus quickly. Sal isn’t working as hard to impress him, isn’t pulling out different moves to see what he likes, but his hand is big and warm and calloused and masculine around Tommy’s dick and it really doesn’t need to do anything else to have him panting and leaking.

He’s thought about this so many times and the reality of it is even better than he could have imagined. Every bit of energy he’s not using to give Sal the handjob of his life he’s putting into not whining and humping Sal’s hand like a dog.

He takes half a step forward before he can stop himself; needing to be closer. Sal huffs but he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t step back.

They’re so close to each other now that Tommy could wrap his hand around both of their dicks and jerk them off like that. He knows it would feel good, wants it more than anything in this moment, but it would be a definitive step over the ‘not gay’ line into territory he’s not sure Sal will follow him willingly. It’s this or nothing, so Tommy chooses this.

“You close?” Tommy asks. He is. He can already feel it rising in his stomach, his balls, licking along his spine. He wants Sal to come first, to hide whatever his own orgasm is going to look like in the mists of Sal’s pleasure.

Sal nods. His face is inches away from Tommy’s and he looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t.

When it happens, Tommy feels it. He doesn’t know why he didn’t expect to—he always feels the pulsing of his own dick as he comes—but to feel another man’s dick twitch and spasm as it shoots warm into his hand has Tommy biting back a moan so quickly he chokes on it.

Sal comes with a low groan and Tommy is helpless to follow. For as long as he’s wanted this—wanted Sal—he thinks he could’ve come from that sound alone, but the way Sal’s big hand tightens on the next few strokes is the last thing he needs to send him hurtling over the edge.

Tommy’s forehead drops to Sal’s shoulder without permission and he keens high in his throat as the pleasure rips through him. It’s easily the best orgasm he’s had in years and he’s instantly terrified of what that means.

He shoves it down. Later. He’ll think about that later.

Tommy pants, coming back to himself, and he gives himself two more seconds of physical contact with Sal before he pulls back completely.

They both lean against the hard tile wall of the bathroom and catch their breaths.

“Good?” Tommy asks, giving a joking half-smile. He knows the answer but it seems like a safe enough way to start talking again.

“Jesus, kid,” Sal laughs. “Yeah. It was good. Where the fuck’d you learn how to do that?”

He grabs some paper towels to wipe his hand off, then gives them to Tommy to do the same.

“Lonely childhood,” Tommy says. It’s true but it’s not the answer. “Dad had a lot of porn mags he’d leave around. I spent a lot of time jerking off. Figured yours doesn’t work too differently from mine.”

That look is back in Sal’s eyes like he wants to say something, but he stays quiet again. He just shakes his head and laughs.

Sal walks towards the door but stops before he opens it. “Give it a few,” he says. He doesn’t look back at Tommy but he has a small smile on his lips still. Tommy takes that as a win.

Sal leaves and Tommy is left alone with the enormity of what just happened. It was good. It was hot. Sal clearly doesn’t hate him, isn’t disgusted by him. He seemed almost… intrigued.

Tommy will sort out the shame and elation he feels swirling inside of himself like oil and water later.

For now, he washes his hands, splashes some water on his face, and gets back to work.

[crybaby-bkg]

cw: this got long sorry 😔 but creepy/perv bakugou, recording, film major bkg x art major reader, masturbation, coercion, dubcon before it just becomes con, voyeurism/exhibitionism

as an art major, you typically did some works for a few students on campus; for their plays, as background pieces while they danced, a cover for their released songs. it wasn’t out of the ordinary for people to ask you to create something for them, and you enjoyed it more often than not. but, you weren’t usually the art itself.

Bakugou is a friend’s friend that you’ve seen a few times, ran into at the library or at coffee shops. he’s a film major, and always looks so unhappy about the whole thing, as if he didn’t choose it himself. you joke to Mina that you think he’ll graduate and become one of those directors that hate everything and yell at the actors constantly and later on get sued for being a dickhead. you never say it to him though—you’ve never spoken more than a couple words to the man.

it’s why it shocks you when he approaches you one day. it’s after one of your painting classes, and he stands outside the door with a frown and his hands shoved in his pockets, his eyebrows scrunched as if pissed at the mere sight of you. he asks you, in that low and gruff tone of his, if you could star in his final project for the semester. says it’s supposed to be a film made with this criteria and that, but, you’ve kind of checked out on the conversation after the first sentence.

“You mean, you want me to create something and that be the star of your film?” you ask him, feeling so intimidated at his stature. he always seems to loom, his hair shadowing the lights above, creates a cast over a portion of his face, makes his eyes look…unsettling. like they’re looking straight through your flesh, can find the marrow in your bones. he scoffs like you’ve offended him, rolling his eyes into his skull, mouth pulled tight.

“No.” his voice is firm, gaze concentrated only on you, like the halls are empty and you’re the focus of his lens. “I want you to star in it.”

his words confuse you—you’ve never presented yourself as an actor before, never alluded to wanting to be in the spotlight if not for what you create with your hands. but he shuffles on his feet, looks desperate even. there’s some hemming and hawing for a minute or so—why not choose Mina?—she’s busy—why choose me?—‘cause you’d be perfect for my short film—what’s it about?—you’ll find out once you get the script.

and even after you hesitantly agree and get the script—you still don’t understand what you’re doing. why you’re here, why you’re the only person, why it has to be a solo film, why there’s damn near zero lines in the entirety of the have-to-be forty five minute film.

the scenes are all so long, and maybe it’s because movies aren’t your forte or chosen major, but you just don’t get it. one scene; you’re staring at yourself in the mirror while Bakugou holds a small, black camera over your shoulder. he’s eerily quiet behind you, whispers out a faint fuckin’ go when you have to wash your face in the sink, makes you do it over because your movements are too jerky and unnatural.

the rest of the scenes go that way; you doing regular at home activities, being put under a lens, quietly barked at to do this and move that way and fix your hair and remember to frown.

“Isn’t there another way to film this?” you ask him on the fifth day of shooting in his spacious loft. there’s a bubble bath scene coming up, one you dont understand the importance of, but Bakugou tells you it’s the most necessary part of the entire thing.

“No,” he grunts out, looking at you from under his lashes as he sits on the lid of the toilet. “But I’ll make it soapy, so the camera won’t see much.” the camera? much? you weren’t worried so much about what the camera captured as you were the man behind it. he looks at you with such intensity, you feel naked already despite the robe you wear that’s suspiciously already your size.

he leaves the bathroom when you sink in the hot water, returns before you can say it’s okay, hears the water splashing and thinks that’s good enough. he kneels on the floor beside you, camera pointed directly in your face, makes your chest hot and your skin feel prickly. the scene passes on regularly enough; you run the water over your arms, tilt your head back as you sigh, whisper the few lines scripted, lean back and close your eyes, sigh again. it’s almost relaxing, makes you forget about the friend of a friend recording you naked right now. almost.

“Touch yourself.” Bakugou suddenly demands, hushed and quiet behind the camera. your eyes immediately shoot open, looking to him in question, how he’s eerily still in his spot hovering over you.

“Huh?” you ask, unsure if you heard him correctly, looking around the rounded lens in your face, trying to ignore the red blinking light. but Bakugou only frowns.

“It’s a masturbation scene. Touch yourself.” he repeats, voice louder, more demanding this time. your stomach twists at the thought of doing something so intimate in front of him. he’s a handsome guy, for sure, even made you consider asking him out after this, figured he was just serious about his work and awkward about certain things. but…something had been off about this entire thing since the start.

“But—but I don’t, I’m not,” you stutter, sitting up a little, the bubbles covering your chest starting to disperse with your movements. but Bakugou only sits a little higher on his knees, finally pulling the camera away from his face for the first time since he’s asked you to do this for him.

“You want me to fail?” he asks, booming voice eerily quiet in the silent bathroom, carmine eyes dull, shaded over with something terrible. “Then do it.” he tells you when you shake your head quickly.

you stare at him until he gets back into position again, camera back pointed at you. when he doesn’t say anything else, you swallow thickly, wondering if the art that will come out of this will be worth it. so you listen, sneak a hand under the water, start touching yourself in a way you never have in front of anyone.

is it bad to say that it’s exhilarating? being watched and recorded by someone who breathes so heavily every time your voice hiccups? being directed to touch your chest next when the suds start to disappear and your nipples start to peek through? is it bad that you want him to send you this portion of his film, only, just so you can watch yourself again and again? make a portrait of yourself with your fingers on your nipples and your knees raising from the water and your head thrown back from the intensity in oil pastels?

“That’s a wrap.” Bakugou announces when you finish, head spinning and still panting. you look over to him, how he closes the camera, the obvious bulge in his pants. “I’ll get you a towel.”

you wonder when’s the next time he’ll need you. or better yet—maybe he could be the star in your final drawing project? you had finished it already but, what was the harm in starting over with him as your muse? as naked as you are? camera not blocking his face so you can paint the similarities of his blushing cheeks and eyes when you direct him to look at you? to touch his chest? to play with himself just like that?