#teehee♡

[starfallen-sloth]

To the anon who sent me an ask telling me to not be a part of a fandom (that I've been a part of for months and just not spoken publically until recently) because I "remind them of a friend they used to have", please consider the following:

Mind your own buisness

Fuck off

And it if really pisses you off so bad get a new interest or something ♡ I do as I please

[oh-no-its-bird]

Contender for funniest moments in Naruto: when Danzo tells Kakashi to kill Sarutobi, and Kakashi LITERALLY FUCKING SNITCHES ON HIM DIRECTLY TO SARUTOBI, who it is to be noted is also LITERALLY NINJA PRESIDENT DICTATOR, and Sarutobi just kinda goes "damn that's wild. He's my childhood friend tho. So." and it's just kinda left at that.

What do you MEAN Danzo didn't even get a slap on the wrist what do you MEAN there are no real long lasting effects of BEING CAUGHT RED HANDED TRYING TO CONVINCE SOMEONE TO MURDER THE HOKAGE ?????????

Funniest shit ever, I don't understand how Kakashi didn't immediatley go "ok I hesitated on killing u out of loyalty and hope u could do better but ur kind of proving the point here that ur a shitty biased Hokage who's willing to forgive anything as long as it's Danzo who's doing it"

[sugarcandydoll]

rafey in this shirt was so handsome wish there was more screentime of him in it ♡🤭💕

[fresanita]

Angel Dust Turns Human - pg3

tw - slight gore!

Part1

Part2

Beginning of how they met, YAYAY!🙂

Sorry about the quality again, I don't like how it sometimes cuts the drawings but I'll settle💔. I've never actually drawn human Alastor till now, but I do like how he turned out so o(≧▽≦)o!

In not gonna do the math about their ages, and I don't think it'd line up w/Canon, but ik Angel died around the 40s near his 20-30s so he'd had lived two decades prior. I'm pretty sure Alastor died around the 20s, not 30s, but that doesn't matter - the point is, Angel would've been a kid before Alastor yknow, died. (Don't take my word for it, I'm probably wrong, but in this lil comic, that's how it is😔) Angel's around 8yrs old and Alastor is somewhere in his late 20s or early 30s (teehee Alastor w dimples🙂!)

Angel playing around with a dead deers head WILL be explained, trust!🙏 I got the idea of domino's bc I think it's a nice game to bond over, also I just like the game and I remember my Dad teaching me how it works so FATHER AND SON MOMENT RISE!💥💥 Anyways, Angel's childhood won't align w Canon (sorry, so ooc, but I like it☹️).

Hope you like Human Alastors and Kid Angel's design🙏!!

[xochimillilili]

Kinktober day 31 ² : Bloodplay

"Awww you're all blushyy~ Fuck you're so cuteee pup, does me in a nurse outfit really get you this worked up? I can see you squirming around already~ Awww you're so cuteee, so needy and desperate for me. Hold still little one, you wanna be good for your checkup don't you~?"

I want to see how my voice just gets my puppy melting, how they can only moan as I lap and gently bite at their neck, checking their pulse, seeing how it starts to slowly race as I softly grope their thighs

Softly whisper, "hold still pup, you just let me take care of you. You can have your favorite toy in your mouth as I get some samples for your check up~" as I lower my leaking cock into their mouth.

Wanna feel how my puppy sucks and laps at my cock for comfort, all while I gently make cuts and carve hearts into their thighs. Squeezing their head with my thighs and shoving my nails into their hips anytime they flinch. Cleaning up stray drops with my hands and licking myself clean.

Hear their desperate moan when I lift myself up, cumming all over their cute face, just to get them go absolutely even more empty brained once they see me licking my bloodied fingers and the knife, tasting them and adoring the mess they've left on me.

[zxro-404]

Mfw the weird cutie from the r/incel breaks into my apartment

@arrowurboat am I (xx ftm) the asshole for flirting with my (?? M) apartment intruder

[darby-rowe]

just going with everything can i say billy and spanking

him just throwing you across his lap when he’s pissed and hitting you so hard tears are streaming down your cheeks and he doesn’t notice till after where he apologizes profusely with his fingers inside you

i feel like billy wouldnt be the type of person to do this out of the blue. you would definitely bring it up to him, batting your eyelashes up at him like “please spank me? 🥹”

it definitely takes some convincing but of course he obliges. with that being SAID—

18+ | nsfw | mdni

despite the tears running down your cheeks, the feeling of billy’s large hand coming down on your ass has your pussy throbbing. you pathetically lay limp over his lap, feet kicking up as you whimper and whine, crying out that he’s being so rough (but you love it so much, and will later get off on the sight of the handprints and bruises).

afterwards, billy’s fingers fuck into your pussy as he profusely apologizes for being so rough with you. you can feel how hard he is from spanking you, relishing in the sounds of your moans as he fingers you so good.

you hear him sigh sweetly as you cum hard all over his hand.

[ohimsummer]

omgggggg imagine pegging Satoru…. I mean he’s definitely a whiny dude when he’s fucking but— how whiny do you think he’d get if he was the one being fucked and manhandled by his sweet girl????

he is the whiniest fucking baby ever, louder than you are when he's the dominant one and then vehemently denies it (while also looking away from all the video evidence like a LOSER!!)

satoru is so desperate and down bad, it really takes almost nothing to get him whining because he starts up the moment you tell him "no" or don't do what he asks at the drop of a hat. you take too long to take his dick out of his pants? whining. too long to put it in your mouth? whining. edge him? whining. tell him he can't cum yet? whining. any denial or refusal or something you do that he doesn't like is met with whining.

he's all fucked out and covered in cum and you tell him to turn over and PUT THAT ASS UP and he's whimpering while he does it because poor little satoru <<//33 his muscles ache and he's so tired and ""it's too much"" so you flip him over and he's crying and whimpering while you shove his face in the pillows (and still somehow finding the energy to jerk himself off...okay😒 )

[ariiadnes]

ㅤ╭ ⿻ ･ DEATH , SEEKING

AT THE END OF THIS STORY , I WALK INTO THE SEA & IT CHOOSES NOT TO DROWN ME.

-ˋ ♡ ◞ scaramouche. genshin impact. cw : drowning quote cr : jihyun yun. reader is an angel. not meant to portray a romantic relationship. repost. tagging @pixelcafe-network

ACT I :

A FUNERAL PROCESSION DOESN'T MEAN ANYTHING WHEN IT'S YOURS. THE LOWERING OF THE CASKET / THE DIRT AND DECAY THAT COVERS THE ROOT OF BEING. IT IS VOID IN EXISTENCE, & IN PLACE OF WHERE A HEART RESIDES, THERE IS AN ECHO OF WHAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN HUMAN AND WHAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN HAPPY.

there is supposed to be a grief that accompanies acknowledgement of loss and death, but in the open wounds of mortality, flesh torn asunder in the killing of a body, a puppet feels nothing.

he stares at the funeral, desolate. it is his, yet he does not mourn. the sight before him is somber, but it is filled with deception, he thinks, and so he reminds himself over and over that he is the one that lies in that casket, dead.

it's easy to forget it's your funeral when everyone there is someone you don't know or someone who pretended to care until it was too late. he cannot recognize half of these faces.

if he opened the casket, would he recognize himself?

"you have experienced both life and death, dearest kabukimono. which do you find to be more beautiful?"

his train of thought is disrupted, gaze shifting to the figure beside him. you have always remained at his side for reasons unknown, denied the existence of guardian angels, but he cannot find any other explanation for the everlasting presence of some supposed divinity watching over him. he could laugh, really. even if you were a guardian angel, you were far too cynical, far too perfect a companion for someone like him.

"i have no heart." the words are filled with spite and hatred and devoured by anger, but beneath it, there is a loneliness, and the ache of it all almost makes you feel something. "you can't experience both if you were made to be a vessel of nothing."

you smile, amused. you study the crowd, its mess of black umbrellas and murmurs and cries. you hear the sobs, but you are certain that there are no tears shed.

"are they mourning for you?"

he laughs, bitter.

"no. not with that pathetic acting."

"they must be very selfish, then." you hum, words spoken more to yourself than anything. "it must be tragic, knowing that your funeral is not full of love and grief. i wonder what would have been more painful for you," you glance at him, but he does not dare look at you, "the absence of the mournful or the false pretenses of sorrow from those who never cared."

you stand next to each other, watch as the crowd disperses, until all that's left is a tombstone with a name he will soon rid of.

"desolate wanderer," your voice is soft, somber, "i am sorry for you. would you like me to say a prayer?"

he does not answer.

ACT I , REVERSED :

the scene changes. the black umbrellas blur into nothing. a coldness washes over him, envelops him entirely in something known as terror. suddenly, it is still. the wretched air is quiet, profound. frightening.

he stands in a body of water, the tides calm, the shore distant. he recognizes this feeling. it is not one he can forget, even when he tries. three times he has known this sensation, the creeping dread, the breaking of something deep inside the void in his chest.

you stand before him, watch as the water drips from your fingertips. your gaze is absent, unreadable, but maybe he sees something so incredibly sorrowful in it. he watches your reflections, notes the feathers that were once part of you. how they float on the surface, lonely and listless, and in the muddled waters, the pure white twists into something black.

"do not be afraid." you tell him, and he watches the droplets trail down your skin, descend into the water from which they came, one by one, slowly.

he could laugh at the words. he wants to say it's human nature to be afraid, but he stops himself-- he is not human, after all, so why does he succumb to fear?

"i'm not."

brash words. liar, you think. but that's okay. you tilt your head ever so slightly, lips curved in a subtle smile.

"are you ready?"

he nods. the water is cold, cruel, invades his senses. there's a numbness that sinks into his skin, but maybe that's an absolution, the cleansing, the awakening. you close the little distance between your bodies, hands cupping his face, tender. there is something in your eyes-- pride, maybe, but he denies himself the possibility. who would be proud of a failed creation?

he closes his eyes. the water grows colder, but there's something warm in his chest, and he does not know whether it is fear or hope he feels the most.

"good night, kabukimono." you press a kiss to his forehead. "may you find something greater on the other side."

your hands slide down, delicate in the way they wrap around his throat, fragile, and in meaning of divinity and reincarnations and sacrifice for something better, you pull him into the waves, further and further and further down until his body loses all sensation, until he can no longer hear the violent sea, until his breath is gone and he is no more.

ACT II :

"balladeer. scaramouche. kunikuzushi. harbinger." you mumble the names to yourself, keep track of them by counting with your fingers. "have i missed any? shall i grant you another warm, endearing title?"

the balladeer scowls at you, though you find it amusing. perhaps in a previous life, you would have surely teased him, pushed it a little further. but in this life, there is a different kind of danger in his eyes, a deeper misery. you do not think you care enough to provoke him-- he could not hurt you, after all, even if he dared.

you contemplate the possibility. he could not hurt you-- not because he'd care too much about you to do so, but simply because you carry the blood of a higher being. he would most certainly try if he knew he could harm you, should you push him to the brink.

what a bitter feeling. you smile faintly at the realization and he does not like it.

"why are you here?"

"i am always here. you've just been given the impression that i'm a thorn in your side."

"are you not?"

"in your search for power and vengeance, have i failed you? was this my fault, the twists and turns in your path to greatness? i can only guide you so much, and all this time, i have watched you walk down the road to destruction." you pause, watch his expression darken with a kind of fury, some kind of hurt. "every name you are known as holds your past. you change it, try to cleanse yourself, but the truth is that you'll always carry it, unforgotten."

"so what did the sea do for me, angel? did you kill my spirit for the sake of your enjoyment?"

you tilt your head once more, smile so exhausted and worn.

"i did not kill your spirit, lonely wanderer. you already killed it long ago." your words hold a dreadful venom, bitterness on the tip of your tongue, rust lining your throat. "the sea could not save you, just as i could not."

he does not know how to respond. he hates that faint apathy you always manage to have, even when he knows it's only a facade at times. he hates that not even a higher power can help him -- but it's always been that way, hasn't it? just like everyone else, you've failed him too. that's what he'll tell himself because that's all he knows.

he turns on his heel, feels the razor edges of your brutality sink into his flesh. he walks, and he does not stop.

"we will try again." he states, command deep in his voice. "neither you or the sea are meant to help me."

you close your eyes, bow your head. somewhere in the silence, you say a prayer. you have never been a savior.

perhaps he is not meant for the saving, after all.

ACT II , REVERSED :

the scene changes once more. it's the sea again, that familiar coldness that fails to abate. it's that strange fear again, that uncertainty. and then there's you, there's always you, he thinks. he stares at the reflections once more, distorted by the ripples of motion. your feathers look darker, the harbinger notes, and there are far more than before. he rests his hand in the water, watches as one floats into his palm. his grasp is gentle as he examines it, and there's a flicker of white, then black once more. he wonders if he imagined it.

"you didn't crush it." you comment.

"you thought i would?"

"i don't know." you reply. "you are not always made of carnage." and that familiar curve of the lips. "it wouldn't have hurt in the end, but thank you for your kindness."

his eye twitches, and you laugh. he doesn't know if you're being genuine, and he's going to dwell on this moment for a bit too long, he realizes.

the air becomes heavy once more. you wonder if he is certain in this decision. it is the second time, but the fear remains stagnant, unchanging.

"do not be afraid."

there is something you cannot quite decipher in his gaze-- determination? wrath? you are unsure. you don't bother to question it. you do it all over again, this familiarity-- the ripples in the water as you move closer, hands cupping his face once more. you press your forehead against his, close your eyes just as he does.

"good night, kunikuzushi. may you find something greater on the other side."

you open your eyes. your hands trail down, fingers wrapping around his throat in yet another means of reawakening. his hands rests over yours, eyes still shut, and you feel how they tremble ever so slightly.

the sea is cold, unwelcoming. the plunge is gentle, but the sensation still frightens him nonetheless. you are merciful even for an angel, comes the bittersweet thought, and maybe he isn't worth such benevolence. he's always wondered why you chose to stay by his side, anyway.

he feels the fight leave his body, feels the way your grip tightens to end this suffering just a little faster. your hands are warm, the balladeer thinks, and it is the last thing he remembers before it all goes void.

ACT III :

maybe you truly are not a guardian angel. you have not been at his side for a long while. he thought perhaps it was just that he had forgotten, that maybe you were nearby all along. but your absence has been all too noticed, and he does not like it.

it is... lonely, here. to be forgotten by all, to carry the weight of what was.

sumeru is vast. it is beautiful, bright, radiant. all the things he is not accustomed to. he stands on the highest of heights, watches the endless landscape below him. somewhere, he hears familiar footsteps : light, graceful.

"do you remember me?"

he stills. he's not sure if he wants to see your face, see that perplexed expression, see the way you tell him that you do not. no one else does.

you hum, deep in thought, and the sound is beautiful. how he misses it so. it sends an ache in the hollows of his chest, some kind of longing.

"won't you turn around? it's been a long while since i've seen that grumpy face."

you can practically hear him roll his eyes. it is a moment or two of gathering composure and courage before the vagabond finally turns, and of course, you have that same stupid smile on your face. this time, it is more genuine, and he's not sure how to quite process that.

"i remember you." you answer. "you're far too stubborn and annoying to forget."

he almost feels something beat wildly in his chest, but he does not understand the sensation. there is nothing there, no heart, yet some kind of heartache. you speak again.

"what do you call yourself now?"

he has taken many names, few of them significant. he has not granted one to himself-- no need, he thinks, though he knows that he would not rid of it if he had one. he thinks back to the sea, recalls your many conversations.

"wanderer."

you pause, and he notes that small flicker of recognition in your eyes.

"familiar and fitting." you muse. you close the distance just as you always have in the past, but this time, there is no water, no vicious wave to overtake him. "do you wish to see the sea?"

the words are heavy in meaning, but it is different this time. in your voice there is the quiet pondering of are you happy this time? have you found the right path? did you find it, that greatness? and he understands it.

he freezes. inhale, exhale. he stares at the sight before him, recalls when you once stood with him at his funeral. things have changed now. he is the same yet different, a harbor for sorrow and anger, but a home for something virtuous. his gaze shifts to you once more. this is not the outcome he intended, desired, nor expected. but there's forgiveness somewhere out there, and maybe he'll grant it to himself one day.

"no," he answers, and in his visage, there is just the faintest trace of kindness you once remembered from memories past, "i've had enough of you drowning me."

you laugh softly, see his lips curve just the smallest bit.

"i am glad, dearest wanderer."

[princessbrunette]

indy x princess where after i info dump all about my latest game lore i let you sit on my dick for being such a good listening girl

blushing …… whining and bouncing on it fr …….. imy

[sugarpasteltmnt]

Greetings from the Speakeasy! :D

[Leo, trying to remember how math works after having been trapped in the Prison Dimension for 5 years and losing most of his sanity to check if he's old enough to drink now]:

(he ends up ordering three drinks that remind him of his brothers and just stares at them with a stupid, pleased grin on his face)

[urfavegetscalledbbygirl]

Ken from The Barbie Movie gets called Babygirl!

[sugarcandydoll]

Happy Birthday Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight! ♡🍰💥

mwah mwah to the best hero of all time hehe ♡💋💗

[megistusdiary]

aris. i treat your inbox like a diary with the little heart-shaped lock dangling on it. you genuinely need to block me i can't put an end to this 😩

but augh arle's lap is so sittable.

I BET the bitch would be the type to perch you on her thighs and run a finger down your spine to correct your posture when you slouch. spit in my mouth already please 😇

alsooo the woman's a TEASE, so do not tell me she wouldn't pull the "hm? what's wrong?" card when you start squirming in place, if you catch my drift.

- inspired by the being her assistant idea<3. kisses!!

kicking my feet and giggling as you drop thoughts into my box. i'm making you a tag ong 😚😚

PLEASEEE she would so perch you on her lap like a good girl, correcting your posture when you slouch while she works ooooh

imagine her having you cockwarm her while she works. and the minute your hips move, she places one hand on your hip. a gentle touch, but a firm warning as she asks, "what's wrong?" knowing damn well it's her cock pressed against your g-spot 😚

ughh and if you're her assistant and she schedules it discretely on the calendar so you can go visit her so she can fuck your throat and play with you on her break 😁😁🫶

[beatheprincess]

I LOVEE when my hair smells good🥺🥺😩✊🏽💗💖🎀💟 and feels refreshed!!💟🎀💗💖💜🙈😆😊

[nana-mizu-shiki]

Kk. So. This isn't so much art but more a poem that I'm going to put into a fic I'm gonna make. Y'know song fics? Like that but with a poem. One I made and am going to give you the context of, I just wanna know if you guys would think a poem song fic would be cool.

The fic promt I thought of was:

What if Tim was dipped into the Lazarus Pit, but twice?????

And then I started coming up with a bunch of stuff listening to music, and I was like:

Thought Process? : Tim died in that desert. The Spleen incident didn't just leave him with a surprise surgery. It left him with glowing green eyes and half-white bangs. But of course, none of the Bats can know that, so, hair dye. Suprise, Suprise, the Pits don't bring Rage, they bring out the worst of a person. Jason? Anger. Ra's? Cruelty. Tim? Apathy. Tim's triggers? Betrayal, Abandonment, Reliance, Expectations Set For Perfection. Because. He. Has. To. Be. Perfect. Inherits Drake I. and Wayne E., slowly trying to cut ties with Gotham and The Bats, fades into the background until The Bats are too late to realize and too late to try to even stop him as he and Ra's make a deal. The deal? Cliffhanger. Up to the reader. And Worse? The Bats don't even realize as he left, taken back with The Demon Head to become his heir, and after months, training under Ra's himself, Returning to Gotham Under the alias of Shadow Shrike, civilian Tim D. W. A. G., although legally Timothy Drake-Wayne. Forever 17, hair shoulders length and bangs white, eyes permanently and mix of ice blue and mint green, flecks of Lazarus neon green passing even at simple glances of those he once called family. Dying his bangs temporarily in public, his vigilante-ism the thing that alerts the others of his return, his change. His Revival. His Death. Blah Blah Blah, Angst Confrontation Shenanigans, Details and Description of how the Pits affect Tim, how the Batfam try to reconnect and makeup, Yadda Yadda, Ends on a sorta cliffhanger thing where the reader chooses which Tim goes to as a Confrontation happens on a roof and Tim chooses between Jason, the Other Bats, Ra's, And Young-Just-Us.

Damn that was a word vomit.

Anyway, the poem is below,

Edit: I kinda realized the poem I'd really long and I'm considering putting this on Ao3 itself lol (*＞∇＜)ﾉ

👇

Green.

Abandoned and left; unthanked for,

Unthanked for?

They're ungrateful.

Green.

Lied and unapologetized to,

Left on Their own, and never recognized too.

Green.

Complete it all,

Raised to be Perfect,

Can never fall,

Always quiet and obedient,

Now Forever Indifferent.

Green.

To bring back the Bat,

Is to travel and turn,

Be ostracized and taken from,

Wings given to another,

Betrayed by those meant to be Their Brothers.

Green.

Betrayed and afraid,

Kicked out and replaced and stolen from a child,

To make a deal with The Demon Head

And to sell Their soul,

All Their worth,

All They've done,

What other choice?

What else is left?

Mentality;

Already on the brink,

Morality;

Like liquid and searching for who it obeys,

Green.

Left to die,

All alone

No longer were they meant to fly;

Sacrificing all their lives,

To help others and then left to die?

Green.

Green.

Green.

Green.

Green.

Alive.

Alive.

Alive with no care. No care at all.

Apathy pulls the teen.

Eyes and vision glowing green all because of a spleen.

Okay so I'm not done but I really want to save this, so pls let me know if you want to read more of this poem or the ideas of the fic it will go to. Thanks for reading (*^▽^)/★*☆♪*.ﾟ+ヽ(○･▽･○)ﾉﾞ +.ﾟ*