#that’s probably why tummy hurted! >:

[steakout-05]

staffy expectations vs staffy reality (by someone who has an absolute sweetheart of an american staffy <3)

[myfriendtheghost]

good morning darling

[yellow-yarrow]

i watched the pmg video... augh.. robert. what are you doing... holding my head in my hands

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[ribcagewolf]

tw ed :[ sowwy

[bibleofficial]

big news in the cooking fandom they just released a patch where if u cook w LESS OIL that means u won’t have to pour as much of it down the drain 😮🤯

[softgothbabe]

.

[foxgloveinspace]

*unable to stop thinking about Mouthwashing (game)*

There’s gotta be a time travel fix it fic where Curly gets sent back in time and puts Jimmy in the freezer, consequences be damned.

[vulpixelates]

oh, delightful. first day of the cold months that i am waking up feeling like i got hit by a fucking bus 🥰👍 i need to oil my joints like the fucking tin man

[songs-ofa-dyingbird]

I feel really weird and it’s like- I’m trying to figure out if I’m sick, if I ate too much or too little, if it’s anxiety, Mayhaps I’m just convincing myself I feel shitty because I want an excuse to be lazy- maybe I’m legit sick frfr, maybe I need to eat lunch, maybe I need to skip lunch, maybe I drank too much coffee??????

[bunniepaws]

ALSO IT SMELLS LIKE SUMMER………….

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

Took my cat to the vet just for him to be diagnosed with tummy hurted and said he needs different food

[tojipie]

toji x crybaby reader <3

content: hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, smut under the cut !

˚ ✧ ───────────

toji is a flawed man. 

short-tempered, married to his money, slow to show affection. but the one thing he does excel at is comforting you.

he knows you’re a sensitive girl, knows just how easy it is for you to get teary-eyed and red in the face over comments that otherwise seem like nothing to the untrained ear. 

you have a kind heart is all, too giving to a world that only knows how to take. he tells you that every time you break down in his arms, thick hands rubbing circles into the small of your back.

his father would have slapped him across the face for crying. called him soft, whiney like a girl. put him to work for the rest of the day to shape him into a man.

he wasn’t his father though, and you weren’t a zenin.

you were soft in the best way, tender-hearted and too trusting. a daisy among weeds, swaying idly in the too-strong wind. nothing like a zenin, nothing like him. 

he hadn’t the faintest clue what to do the first time he’d seen you get upset, standing there in the kitchen like a fool while you babbled on the phone with his bank.

it was a fraudulent charge, small, maybe only 10 dollars. probably dropped his card while paying for gas again, not the end of the world. the customer service rep assured you that much.

it was the principal, you sobbed. you’d lost his card and hadn’t even noticed. why wasn’t he upset with you?

he doesn’t know why he didn’t just tell you it was okay. that he didn’t have it in him to ever be cross with you, be it a ten-dollar charge or a thousand-dollar charge. 

instead he wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling your body flush with his to press soft kisses to the crown of your head.

you were warm there, warm everywhere really. the thrum of your blood heating your skin from the inside out. toji liked that about you, how you offset the perpetual cold of his much larger hands. 

physical touch was something he knew well. toji wasn’t—still isn’t good with words, opting to stay silent and just hold you while you sniffled into the receiver. he got the message across, he always does.

his methods are unorthodox for that very reason. he doesn’t comfort you with his tone, he does it with his body. whether it be thick arms squeezing you until you get your breathing under control, large hands tracing shapes into your tummy until you stop spluttering, or toned legs splaying wide to let you crawl into his lap, resting on him until your bodies reach the same temperature.

toji fucks you on your good days, likes to tease you, get you squirming. the key difference is that he makes sweet love to you on your bad ones. holding you flush to his chest while he rocks into you under the safety of your shared blankets.

you feel like a furnace under him every time, heat radiating off your body and into the deeper parts of his soul. 

he gets mouthy once the feeling of you wrapped around him flicks that little switch in his brain. turning off the mental barrier between him and his inability to use his words. 

“sweet girl,” is what he calls you, eyes never leaving yours. 

“gotta stay close to me, gotta keep you safe, huh?”

and keep you safe he does, tucking your face into the curve of his neck so you don’t have to look anywhere but him. letting you moan, and pant, and sigh into his skin while he rocks against that special spot situated deep in your core.

he goes harder when you ask him to. not faster, but harder—he knows the difference, letting the resistance in his hips subside so he can sink to the hilt over and over. 

the juxtaposition makes his head spin. how do you manage to sound so sweet while asking for something like that? able to melt his heart even on the brink of orgasm.

you kiss him when he fills you up, letting him sink on top of you with a huff and a shy laugh. he listens as you open up about the good parts of your day, his soft hums of agreement spurring you on.

toji wishes he was taught to articulate himself better. he’s trying, he really is. though the “i love you” he says into your skin seems like his best shot at a start. 

[gamblersdoll]

tw: size kink, sex talk.

when sukuna sees you for the first time as his true form, hes even more in love. he has to look down or even crouch down to your height and is still barely eye level. his arms suffocate you, and his hand is bigger than yours.

hes been waiting for this, holy fuck. he cant get over how small and beautiful you are. he only wondered how strong you could be now? can you even land a single blow on him?

eventually, you did, while using his OWN weapon? how you managed to do that, hes amazed. and youre overtop of him and hes finally healed, but he is still so intrigued by how you are able to do it with his state now.

“you truly are worth my time!” he laughs maniacally, smushing you face in his larger hand. hes so much bigger than you too, that hadnt left his mind during the whole fight, probably why he slightly even doubted you– never again.

so now hes got you in a compromised state, two arms on your hips and two arms on your shoulders. he barely got the tip in, you somewhat suck him in, and hes just… in awe.

your body is just astonishing to him, and hes grinning ear to ear.

“hoo fuck!” hes growling, is he even human? hes not, and he spits a fat glob on your pretty cunt. thats what does it for you, and hes able to get about halfway inside you, your tummy bulging and he sees the outline of his fat dick, dont even remind yourself about the second dick you may have to take either in your cunt or your ass. and thats a whole new level.

hes head over heels, over the moon, debating on would he allow you to boss him around for taking him? your almost at the base of his dick, and what sounds like degradation is him praising you.

“youre such a fucken whore! look at you, takin all of me!”

“im gonna have to be so so gentle, or i might just fuck up your uterus..”

and he’s going so slow as he can, (newsflash, its barely slow!) and youre biting your lip as it slightly hurts because of the sudden stretch, although having experience. hes wiping your tears with his tongue, kissing your cheeks as his belly mouth is eating and lapping up your clit as hes balls deep, so you have some type of lube.

hes laying on top of you after having a strangled climax, only making sure he pulls out and nuts on your tits (he doesnt believe you should take his cum yet, you could barely take a few strokes.) and hes overwhelming.

[your-internet-bf]

Awww, c'mon, man, you can tell me how big it is. Cmonnnnn, I'm curious! You're a good lookin guy, I'm sure you're packin some heat down there, right?

What's that? You don't... huh? What do you mean? Here, just let me...

Don't moan, man, don't gotta make this weird... Well damn. No, no, I'm not disappointed at all, it's just... Here. Feel this.

No, shh, just feel. When you reach between a man's legs, you should feel something like this. Yeah, there's a lot there haha, maybe not something quite like this... What's that? Can you see it? That's a little gay, dude... Naw, I'm joking. Here.

Ahaha, you should see your face, man. What, you thought just because it was that big it had to be hard already? Naww, look, you're cute and all but it takes a little more than - ohhh, shit. No, you're right, your hands probably won't fit. Yeah. Why don't you...

Ahhh, fuck. Quick to get on your knees, and christ, that feels good... Yeah, fuck, use your... Ugh, christ, I know you're choking, I'm just gonna use your throat for a minute. You look so fucking hot down there... C'mon, c'mon... Aha. A little too big for your throat, huh? That's alright. Lick your spit up off my cock, I've got something else for you to try.

Jesus, I can see how soaked you are through your clothes. Take those off, lemme get a look at you. God, you've got a great ass, you know that? Spread that shit for me, let me look... God, dude, you look tight. Let me just feel around here... Yeah, shit, can you spread a little more? I wanna really get a good look. Yeahhh, that's good, right there. Yeah, I'm gonna - aha, that was a cute sound. What happens if I - ahaaaa. That wasn't very manly of you. Okay, okay... On the bed.

Spread your fuckin legs, what do you think I'm about to do? No use in being shy now, I JUST felt how fuckin wet you are. If you're not gonna do it, I'm gonna have to make you... Yeah, alright, I've waited long enough. Oh don't gimme that, I know you want it. Look, when I lay it on your tummy... Almost to your belly button. Beg me to put it in. Yeah, man, seriously. Beg me for it. Like a slut. Use your big boy words and fucking beg me to take this fat fucking cock of mine and pound your cunt.

See, was that so hard? Good boy. Now, grab onto something, cuz this is gonna hurt.

[laiiaaa]

Your writing is stunning! Can I request injured!reader and Carmy rushing to be by her side? god the idea of that man dropping everything to be with you....

this has been in my drafts for probably a year now. i forget why i was hesitant to post it. so here’s something for you all :)

“Hey, Cousin—”

“I’m in the middle ‘f something, not now, Richie—”

“Hey.” He raises his brows, gives that serious look that has Carmen’s head peeking over his shoulder because it’s so sharp he can feel it. “It’s your girl. You wanna take this.”

He gets nervous, then, heart beginning to race. Where’s his fuckin’ phone?

“Give it here,” he says, arm extended. Richie hands it over and slips out the door, shutting it to leave Carmen by himself in the office; it only makes hurt stomach lurch harder.

He lifts the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“. . . Carm?” Your voice is broken and wobbly, wrought with tears.

“Baby?” He doesn’t even think before he’s jumping out of his chair, tucking the phone between his jaw and shoulder while he scrambles to find his keys. “Baby, you there? Where are you?”

“I-I’m at the hospital, I tried calling you—”

“The hospital—?” His mind goes back to New York, back to that morning. “What—” He takes a deep breath. His jacket. Where the fuck is it? “Okay, you’re okay, I’m comin’ now, alright?” He storms out of the office toward the lockers, finds everything right where he put it, including his phone. Dead. Fuck. “I gotta hang up, okay? I’m sorry, I know, I can’t take the phone with me. I’ll be there soon, I promise.”

“O-Okay.” A shuddered breath rings through the line, and it kills him. “I’m okay, Carmy—”

“I know,” he says, shimmying into his jacket and feeling for his keys. “I know, baby, but I’m comin’ anyway, you hear me? Gonna be there in ten.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. I love you.”

He doesn’t put the phone back properly, just slides it across the counter and hopes it doesn’t break again, shouting out orders over his shoulder on his way out the door.

The ride there is the longest ten minutes of his life. He doesn’t know what to expect. He doesn’t know anything at all, really. Are you hurt? How bad is it? What happened? Is it a burn, a broken bone, just a flu that got out of hand? Will you need surgery? Did you get in an accident? Did someone try to hurt you? He doesn’t want you to be alone right now. He needs to be there with you. You were fine this morning. You were fine this morning, all beautiful and groggy when he kissed you awake, still cozied up in bed when he left early as the sky turned blue after sunrise. You were fine. You were fine, and then he left, and suddenly you weren’t.

The fluorescent lights make him nauseous. They’re too bright, and a disgusting color, and too different from all the gentle lighting you insisted upon at home. Made the place homey, you said, and he agreed. The nurses at the station must think he’s out of his mind, all wide-eyed and asking for you.

“What’s your name?” the one asks him.

“Carmen, I’m her fiancé, I was—I was just on the phone with her—”

“Okay,” she nods, softening. “She’s doin’ alright now, she was askin’ for you, though. Still gotta get her wrapped up, but you’ll be outta here soon.”

He’s too busy wondering What the fuck does that mean? to properly answer.

When he’s finally brought to your room, his nerves subside—only a little. There’s no blood, no bland hospital gown to say you’re headed off to the operating room. Just a pillow over your tummy, with your arm—your swollen, bruised arm—resting on top of it.

“Hey, hon,” he says, coming to your bedside and smoothing a hand over your forehead to press his lips to your temple. “You alright? What happened?”

“They—” you sniffle when you look up at him, lip quivering— “They had to take my ring off, Carmy—” he nods along to your rambling with a concerned brow— “I-I told them not to, but they said my hand was too swollen—that-that it was gonna mess up my finger—. . .”

“What’s that, baby?” He smiles into your hair and exhales through his nose. So typical of you to get upset about something cute like that, he knows you’ll be okay. “Your arm’s all black ‘n blue, and you’re worried about your ring—?”

“But it’s special—”

“Shhhhh . . . I know, I know . . . ‘m just askin’ you to ease up.” Another kiss lands on your forehead before he asks, “Where’s it at, baby? I’ll fix it for you.”

You pout and look somewhere behind him. “On the table, but you’re not gonna be able to—”

“Just take a breath ‘n relax f’me, yeah? I got it.”

He stands upright again, turning to check that the ring is there—that beautiful, beautiful big diamond for his precious girl, before reaching toward the nape of his neck to unclasp his chain. Carefully, he threads it through the ring, silently urges you to sit up so he can hook it around your neck, icy-cool on your smooth skin, admiring the way it sparkles like your eyes.

You’re still pouting when he’s done, and he kisses your soft lips anyway while he wipes away stray tears. “Better?”

“. . . yeah,” you admit through a murmur.

“Good,” he huffs, pulling the visitor’s chair right next to your bed. With your good arm, you reach for him, just any part of him, and he holds your hand as he kisses your dry knuckles. “You gonna tell me what happened now? What’s got you all banged up?”

And you groan and roll your eyes, insisting that it’s too embarrassing to tell, and he lets you drag it out just because he thinks it’s cute when you’re stubborn. The doctor comes in with the x-rays to confirm that, yes, indeed, you’ve got yourself a broken arm, and after you’re splinted and discharged and given a sling and the next day’s protocol, Carmen holds your good hand on the way out the door.

“Oh,” you start, pausing before he opens the car door for you, “I forgot to tell you.”

“Hm?”

“I drove here.”

“You what?”

“I told you, I was embarrassed, Carm—”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, baby,” he grunts, laughing and shaking his head with fingers running through his hair as he helps you into the passenger’s seat. “You’re killin’ me today, y’know that?”

And it’s not the last time. When he unlocks the front door and sees the laundry spilled all the way down the stairs, with a basket flipped upside down at the bottom, he can put the pieces together. He kisses you softly, doesn’t say a word about it, takes you to the bedroom, and tucks you into bed to let you rest now that your adrenaline is wearing off and the pain meds are making you sleepy.

He fixes up the mess without a second thought, and once he’s done he slips right under the covers next to you, thanking whatever God there is that you’re okay, and that he’s got you back in his arms.

(And tomorrow, when he takes you into the doctor’s office for a proper cast, he has Natalie and Pete pick up your car. He still hounds on you about it weeks later, how you drove yourself to the hospital with a broken arm. You insist it makes for a good story, and to that he can’t deny.)