#oh oh oh i take it back

[philtatosbuck]

the idea that katherine would make a good mikaelson is kind of laughable because she is so genuinely fundamentally against. like 90% of what the mikaelsons stand for.

they’re all backstabbers so she has that going for her but at the end of the day they will pull through for each other while katherine has never been loyal to anyone for more than like 45 minutes on a good day

this one is especially for if she’s a mikaelson via elijah but she will not risk her life for klaus or rebekah for a damn second nor would she stand around and let elijah do it and the idea that elijah’s going to Let Her stop him from helping his siblings if they need it is laughable

she’s a habitual liar??? paired with elijah, who is also a fucking liar, there’s just nothing there to build on lmfao their relationship would have crashed and burned if they had actually gotten together if we’re being fr about it. elijah at his core is about family (and also fucked up) and katherine is about herself (and also fucked up)

and i’m not saying any of this is a fault on katherine’s part that’s just how she is and i don’t see how anyone can convince themselves that her being with elijah, and therefore regularly in klaus’ life, would make her any less flighty or sneaky at all. do you REALLY think her being with someone she knows would pick klaus over her would have katherine relaxed or “more herself” (whatever idea of kat y’all tend to have) enough to the point where she and elijah could actually. be happy??? 

the funniest part about it all is that if katherine were to “become a mikaelson” she would be better off with literally any other sibling besides elijah

[hinamie]

alongside someone like you

[mycherrycola]

does not the same green blood flow through their veins? 🥺

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Why are you running?

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[jasminebythebay]

a long awaited battle 🐦🐈🏐

--

This piece is now available as a print! https://jasminebythebay.etsy.com/listing/1721771789

[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.

[heartorbit]

find another role, carry on the show

[yrsonpurpose]

we won't know. but there will be signs. bonus ±

[mayoiayasep]

one piece fan letter was beautifully animated and written all the way through but this scene was the part that really got me

[mamawasatesttube]

the whole "jason rules crime alley and none of the other bats are allowed there!!1!" thing is so funny like. tim LITERALLY lives in the theater where bruce's parents died,

[bluebellowl]

Sometimes what’s broken is really just damaged.

How can a 7,5 foot animatronic sneak up on a kid? Idk but this one did

[hinamie]

thank u canon plant nerd megumi for my life

bonus:

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Good morning, Sleepyhead.

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[willowser]

HMMMMM bakugou being just. the absolute picture of sin.

he works overnight and comes home early in the morning, around 3 or 4 am or so, and you greet him and give him a kissy and ask how it all went. and even though it's still dark outside and he's been working for twelve hours—he's still coming off patrol, right ? so he's still got some energy left, and he eats something and takes a shower and winds down as you fall back to sleep.

and it's not until much later in the day that he wakes up, early afternoon, and you're kind of tiptoeing around so that he can get his much-needed rest. you slip into the closet of your bedroom for something and you think you're gonna get in and out without a sound, but his hearing is so attuned to just about anything and everything at this point.

so rough and raspy, he grunts out, "what're y'lookin' for?" and you whip around real fast and he's just—

half sitting up in bed, bare back leaning against the headboard. an arm behind his head, so that his bicep is tense and round and stone-solid. stretched like that, his obliques are more prominent, taut and rippling up the side of his ribcage. he must have gotten hot while passed out, as he usually does, because the comforter is all askew; one of his legs is bent, the fine hair a dark gold in the waning day; the other is hanging off the bed, lightly swinging as he watches you, and the blanket has come down enough that you can see the bulge of his thigh muscles beneath his stupid tiny black boxer briefs.

and he's just so. man. in every single way.

(his hair is flat on one side, too, and his eyes are still a little puffy from sleep—but you think that adds to it, all in all)

[milkywayes]

GARRUS VAKARIAN: DATABASE IMAGE ACCESS. > PT. 1 : 2160, 2166, 2170. > all files backdated according to user preferences: (terran_coordinated.calendar).

[kamiraaah]

If I had to think of Fellow helping Vovó Bucchi with the sewing and Gidel helping her cook (aka cutting veggies and stirring the pot) you do to

HAH! Jokes on you anon! I also like to think about the little routine they would have!

Whether it's Gidel help with the dinner and some chores.... Fellow sewing old clothes or fixing something around the house, and even helping some neighbors! Or them doing the shopping and committing some crimes along the way, you know, common things for a simple little family~ 🤭