#you guys are THE best

[cchrss]

waiter waiter!! more riddler fanart!!!

[dr-spectre]

WE DID IT!!!!

GREAT JOB EVERYONE!!!!! It's so amazing to see everyone collaborate together and reach this giant ass total. If we can reach a BILLION EGGS before it wraps up, I'll be so damn happy.

[comfyhome]

there are So many of us . not an insane amount but a lot more than you’d think

for every extreme cuddling blog you find on tumblr, there are like 10 other people who are too afraid to even make one. there are also 10 other people who don’t even know this community exists yet and just think they’re weird. YES, YOUR INTEREST IS A LITTLE UNCONVENTIONAL!!! BUT YOU ARE NOT ALONE IN IT!!!!!

for being able to talk about it and express yourself, you are brave!! even just for acknowledging that it’s a part of you, you are brave!!!! and I love you!!!!!!!!!!! you are not hurting anybody by finding comfort in the unusual!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[bibbumblebee]

I know we’ll probably never get any information on Phoenix’s parents, but I refuse to believe his mom is named anything other than Miranda.

Miranda Wright.

[spikedfearn]

I Said Just a Little Bit, Then I Got a Taste of It

Chapter IV

bjorn x fem!reader

summary: After being transferred to another sector of Jackson's Star you reluctantly befriend a ragtag group of people with the exception of one cocky asshole who knows just how to get under your skin.

On the surface, you hate each other, but after experiencing a particularly harrowing event together, the two of you grow closer than anyone else could ever imagine.

a/n: alright, the moment you've all been waiting for, it's nothing but smut from start to finish!! I took a mini-break to write something else but I plan on getting chapter v, maybe even vi out before I post part ii of let's make love!! this fic is gonna be around 8-9 chapters if I follow the outline I have laid out so we're at the halfway point now (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) also—always remember to wrap it up girlies!!

warnings: secret friends with benefits, enemies to lovers, angst, alcohol/drug use, nsfw, non-linear narrative, trauma bonding, resolved sexual tension, praise kink (both ways), oral (giving), loss of virginity, dirty talk

tags: @asvtrials @urfavhanna @orangebeauty @3arthtoeden @barnes70stark (comment if you wanna be notified when a new chapter drops)

wc: 2.8k

Masterlist Next Chapter

If this really is the end, maybe this isn't such a bad way to go out—making out with someone as hot as Bjorn. 

It's been awhile since you've kissed anyone, more than a little out of practice, not that Bjorn seems to mind, slipping his tongue in your mouth, overwhelming it. 

Your fingers thread through the sweaty tangle of his hair, dislodging some of the loose sediment and debris that had showered you both earlier, your other palm sliding up the side of his neck to cradle him just below the jaw, the slick, wet noise of your tongues meeting echoing through the limited space. 

This is the last thing you ever expected to happen, apart from the cave-in, swapping spit with your sworn enemy while you await your inevitable demise. Always assumed if anything were to go down between you two it would be homicide, with you in cuffs and Bjorn six feet under. 

In reality you are much, much further down below LV-410's surface, spending your last few moments alive with the last person you wanted to spend them with. At least, that's how you felt prior to you and Bjorn's little heart-to-heart, able to come to an understanding that whittled the strain down to almost nothing.  

Bjorn's hand drifts from where it's cradling your cheek down and over your grimy t-shirt, yanking the hem free from the cinched waistband of your standard-issued cargo pants it's tucked into. Slips it underneath the ratty fabric to touch your bare skin, skimming the flat of his calloused palm over your stomach up to the underwire of your bra, flirting along the edge. 

He slips his hand under that too, cupping the entirety of your breast, the dry rub of his thumb over your nipple hurting just right. 

“Bjorn,” you whine, watching him pull back, a string of saliva stretching between your lips, the lighting casting orange shadows to dance across his face, eyes heavy-lidded and narrow, “please.”

Immediately obliging, he rucks your cotton tee and bra up and over your collarbones so your tits are out, arms coming up to cover yourself on reflex when he stops you, pinning your wrists in the dirt above your head with one hand. 

“Don’t go shy on me now, princess, we've only jus’ started," except—it’s Bjorn's turn to go shy, cheeks turning an uncharacteristic shade of pink as he looks down and away, voice a little insecure when he whispers, “jus’—tell me if it feels good or not.” 

Then he's diving forward to close the distance between your body and his, the broad stroke of his tongue over your nipple making you writhe beneath him. 

What he lacks in experience he makes up for in enthusiasm, sucking with a fervor that has you feeling hot all over before he's switching to the other side, replacing his mouth with his hand to fondle your heaving, wet breast at the same time. There's a saying that passion is an extension of hatred.

“Oh—fuck,” you whimper, almost having forgotten how euphoric it feels to have someone else touch you so intimately, “so good. You sure you've never done this before?”

That seems to spur him on, gaining more confidence as he continues working over your chest, blowing warm air over the cool wetness of your nipples, starting to soak through your underwear as a result and you haven't even gone that far. Yet. 

“God if only ya’ could see urself right now,” Bjorn groans, low and breathy, “Lookin’ like a propa’ wet dream.” 

Bjorn lets your wrists go to rip both of your shirts off, pulling him down into another filthy, wet kiss, lifting your shoulders off the ground long enough to unhook your bra for you, swallowing each other's moans. 

You're aware that you're running on borrowed time, the shaky rumble of the tunnel you're hooking up in providing a morbid reminder. Breaking the kiss, you lightly push back against his naked chest when he tries to chase after you, sharing winded breaths between your barely separated lips. 

“Easy now,” you chuckle, tucking a sweaty curl behind his ear, over the little frowny face he has tattooed there,“you still wanna lose your v-card, don't you?” 

The nod he offers you is quick, eager—definitely virginal, turning you on more than you thought it would. There's just something insanely hot knowing you're the first to touch him like this, the only one so far to witness him desperate for more. 

“On your back,” you tell him, naturally taking charge, cutting him off right before he can interject, “now be a good boy and listen. Can you do that for me?” 

You watch the rapid flutter of his lashes at the pet name, the whites of his eyes showing as his pupils roll back into his head like he just came from that alone. Well—who would've figured Bjorn to have a praise kink; deciding to file that away, planning on weaponizing it to your complete advantage.

“Oh—did you like that? Me calling you a good boy,” you purr, reveling in the breathy moan he gives back in response, feeling a little powerful as he follows your instruction, sprawling out without any push back. “There you go, just like that. Look at you taking direction so well.”

Kissing down his chest and over the thin happy trail disappearing into his pants, you feel him shiver in anticipation. You pull the metal prong on his belt, unfastening the leather until the strap is lying on either side of his hips, hands a little shaky. 

You're just as nervous as he is, wanting it to be good for his first—and last—time, opening his zipper, the gold teeth revealing the tented fabric of his briefs as you yank it all the way down, damp from pre-come. He's looking forward to this just as much as you are. 

“I’m gonna go down on you,” you explain, Bjorn drawing a ragged intake of breath into his lungs hearing that, assuming neither of you have lube on you, “need you nice and wet, then you're gonna get me nice and wet if we're gonna make this happen. Okay?” 

A smirk stretches across his lips as his chin raises, a fraction of that familiar cockiness returning, finding it more attractive than you normally would, “Oh? Gonna gag on it, princess?” 

“I can't believe I'm seriously about to put your dick in my mouth,” you grumble, choosing to keep up the illusion of irritation, if only to slightly detach yourself from the situation you've found yourself in, from the exceedingly foreign flicker of your heart.  

You unsheath his cock from the unbuttoned fly of his underwear, eyes going wide when you finally lay eyes on him. Fuck. He's big. Of course he is, his grossly misplaced confidence making a lot more sense now. 

“Droolin’ already, love?” He laughs, loosely steepling his fingers together behind his head, face rearranging into something incredibly smug. 

Rather than saying anything you let a fat glob of spit fall from your mouth to make the slide easier, working your way up from base to tip, mixing your saliva with his pre-come, fueled by the continuous stream of moans he's feeding you. 

Your mouth closes around him, the few strands of hair that had come loose from your ponytail framing your face, hollowing your cheeks to pay special attention to his head, the bitter taste of salt spreading out across your tongue.

Bjorn's sensitive, you can immediately tell, judging by how responsive he is to everything you're doing, swearing a litany of curses under his breath as your tongue massages the underside of his cock, swirling around it, babbling things like, “fuck—jus’ like tha,’ ur a fuckin’ pro a’this, holy shit” and, “m’ gonna come if ya’ keep this up, princess.” 

You pull off with an audible wet pop, shushing Bjorn when he starts to whine at the loss, “now, now. Can't have you coming too soon, can we? Not when we haven't even gotten to the best part.”

He gets the hint to sit up after tugging on his wrist, chest heaving and flushed down to his navel like he just ran a marathon. You didn't think it was possible for Bjorn to look this devastatingly attractive but he's once again proven you wrong, not that you mind at all in this case.   

“Alright,” you say, getting on your knees to rip your pants and underwear down and off your legs, shuddering under the weight of his lustfully heedy gaze, staring at your soaking wet core as he licks his lips nice and slow. “My turn.”

Drawing his wrist to your mouth, you wrap your tongue around two of his dirty fingers up to the last knuckle so you can suck them clean, get them ready, “gonna teach you how to open me up, get me nice and stretched for your cock. Would you like that?” You check, words a bit muffled with your mouth preoccupied.  

Bjorn groans watching you, hastily nodding his approval, following the path your tongue takes as you curl it around and splice between, finding satisfaction in how much he's enjoying your little show. Which is brand new for you, never having gotten this turned on by giving your bed partner pleasure. 

Once you've deemed them sufficiently wet enough you lead his fingers down between your thighs, sliding between your folds, lashes fluttering at the contact, “ur fuckin’ drippin,’ princess. Allat’ jus’ fo’ me?” 

You don't even have it in you to deny it, whimpering “yes,” as the first finger goes in with ease, pushing and pulling his wrist to steadily fuck it in and out of you, twisting and telling him to curl it upward, hitting your g-spot dead on. 

“God that's—you're doing so good, such a good boy,” Bjorn diving forward and shoving his tongue down your throat in another desperate, filthy kiss, pumping his finger faster, repeatedly brushing over the same spot you told him about that has your thighs trembling and your eyes rolling. He's certainly a quick learner. 

His second finger joins the first upon your instruction, scissoring them apart to stretch you wide open, foreheads leaning against each other while you both watch them disappear inside you, fragmented breathing and occasional moans punctuating the shared air between you. 

It doesn't take long before you're pulling his fingers out, licking them clean to get him even more riled up, jaw getting tight as he grits his teeth, looking like he wants to devour you whole, causing heat to coil through you. Fuck, you've never wanted anyone more. 

“So howdya’ wanna do this?” He asks, reclining back, keeping himself propped up on his elbows so he can stare up at you appreciatively. 

Your answer is immediate, having already thought about it earlier, crawling over his body to straddle his hips and hover just above him, “gonna ride you.” 

You figure it'll be the best position to do it in, will give you complete control, being able to set the pace and angle while Bjorn can just lie there and reap all the benefits.  

He smirks hearing your answer, cocking his head sideways as his eyebrows raise, arches disappearing underneath his bangs, “fuckin’ knew ya’ wanted ta’ sit on it.” 

“Bjorn,” you scold, pushing squarely against the abdominal muscle in his solar plexus until he's lying flat on his back again, “be a good boy and shut up.”

That does the trick, moaning a “kay” as you get ready to sink down, feeling the blunt pressure of his head against your entrance when you realize something important—he isn't wearing any protection.  How did you almost overlook something like that? The arousal must be clouding whatever critical thinking skills you're still working with.

Wait,” you pause, grabbing his attention, listening to him whine in annoyance at you to “not be a fuckin’ cocktease,” lightly slapping his chest in retaliation, “do you have any condoms on you?” 

“Huh?” He blinks, moony-eyed, mirroring your dumbfounded expression, clearly also thinking with the wrong head, “nah, why would I?” 

“Damn it,” you groan, considering backing out of the whole thing, not sure if you really want to let him hit it raw. You've never let anyone fuck you without one, the only contraceptive Jackson's Star has to offer—is even willing to offer, their attempt to force a baby boom with how incredibly low the colony’s population currently is. “Why not?” 

“Well sorry ta’ say I don't jus’ carry rubbas’ on me babes, neva’ saw tha’ point since I wasn't gettin’ none ‘nyway. Besides—da’ we even really need one?”

“You're joking, right?” You give him an incredulous look, thighs starting to tremble from how long you've been holding yourself up, “I don't want a UTI, fucking in a mineshaft is already reckless enough.”

That and you're definitely not looking to get knocked up, especially by Bjorn of all people, preferably by no one at all. You just can't imagine subjecting a baby to such a miserably hopeless situation like the one you're doomed to die in. 

“Well tha’ won't really matta’ when we're squashed like a coupla’ bugs, now willit?’” he challenges, feeling your resolve waver, hating to admit that Bjorn’s been making solid points throughout the night. 

He's right. It won't matter, none of it does, not in the long run when your bodies are inevitably being dug out from under the rocks and support beams waiting to topple over onto you. 

So—you make up your mind and sink all the way down, only stopping once you're fully seated in his lap, listening to the drawn out groan that escapes him when he's bottomed out. 

“Shit,” he whines, eyes momentarily closing while he adjusts to the tight, wet heat hugging his cock, “ya’ feel fuckin' incredible princess.” 

You place both hands on his chest to keep you stable as you start to move, lifting all the way up to the tip before dropping back down, your shared moans echoing off the walls around you. 

His hands come up to squeeze your thighs hard enough to bruise, aiding you in the slick slide with his shirt balled up and pillowed beneath his head. You don't remember it ever feeling this good—this mind-blowing, your bodies molding together like they were made for each other. 

The wet slap of skin fills the air, angling your hips to repeatedly hit your g-spot again, your orgasm building quick, reaching down to massage your clit in time with your bouncing. 

Bjorn plants both feet on the dirt to fuck up into you harder, head falling back as your eyes close, slapping your hand out of the way to replace it with his own, “fuck. This is betta’ than I coulda imagined, takin’ ma' cock so well. Gonna come soon.”  

His arm circles your waist then, pulling you on top of him, taking the reins to thrust inside of you at his own erratic pace, moaning filthy shit into your ear like, “love tha’ way ya’ moan fo’ me,” and “ur such a plesha’ ta’ use.”

He sucks a hickey into your neck, your chest sliding up and down his from the force of his hips, signaling he's about to bust with a low grunt, offering to pull out and aim it at you somewhere instead. 

But it doesn't matter, right? Hearing an ominous grinding coming from the rubble behind you, blocking off the path leading to the tunnel’s entryway—the final collapse. 

So you shake your head no, begging him to come inside you, to consummate your relationship and make you his just before the end. And he does, sliding in deep as he moans your name and releases everything he has to offer, milking you into an orgasm of your own, sucking a matching hickey into his clavicle. 

Listening to the thump of his rabbiting heartbeat as your breathing starts returning to normal, you feel him press a kiss to your temple in a silent thank you. You want him to hold you, to keep you close and give you the illusion of safety as everything unavoidably collapses around you. 

Except—nothing ends up collapsing,  realizing the grinding you heard is the sound of drilling, excavating through the rock and splintered wood to get to you, sharing a bewildered look with Bjorn when you both recognize it. You're not dying like you both thought, you're being saved. 

Both of you barely manage to get dressed just as a sudden stream of headlamps flood through the hole that's been made, just big enough to accomodate one body at a time, your pupils going small under the bright white lights.

A small group of miners are crouched there, instructing both of you to quickly crawl to the other side towards them before everything ultimately comes down, rendering their little rescue mission futile.

You let Bjorn go first, still rooted to the spot, completely shell shocked as you watch him squeeze his way through with the help of some hands being extended out to him, not once glancing back your way.

You're gonna live to see another day. You just had unprotected sex with Bjorn and now you have no choice but to deal with the aftermath that tomorrow will inevitably bring.

[honnelander]

asdfghjkl I love your writing. Your Sanji & reader have my heart forreal 🫶🏼✨ keep up the great work 😘

Suggestion: reader having a niche hobby (like knitting/crocheting, or collecting shells, anything really LOL 😆 your choice) and Sanji’s reaction to that

you are soooo sweet thank you!! this request/suggestion was so cute, i loved it.

when i read "collecting shells" i immediately knew what i wanted to write for it and this is how i think go fish!Sanji would react to reader collecting sea shells as a niche hobby:

masterlist

When you had started collecting shells, it didn't start out as a hobby, far from it in fact. You didn't even know collecting sea shells was considered a hobby until Luffy pointed it out to you.

"Oh, wow! You collect shells y/n? How cool!" Luffy gushed with his signature bright smile that lit up his face. That's one of the things you loved about Luffy, he had the ability to make any rudimentary task seem like the most special thing ever. "What a cool hobby!"

And that was when your shell-collecting hobby was born. At first, you had just wanted a souvenir of some sort, just wanting a small piece of each island you visited so you could look back at your collection one day and remember all of the places you've ever been to.

It was something very special to you. So imagine how you felt when you nearly forgot to grab a shell one day, during a routine island pit stop to restock the ship's supplies, when the weather suddenly took a turn for the worst just as the straw-hat crew was making their way towards the ship.

You liked to grab a shell right before you left. Usually, you had your routine: you would go to the closest beach to where the Going Merry was docked at, take a moment to survey the assortment of shells scattered along the beach, and pick out the shell that most reflected your either long or short time on the island. You loved it.

But during that particular trip, your shell-collecting routine didn't go as planned and you nearly had a heart attack at the thought of missing a shell.

The weather had suddenly turned for the worst as you and the crew were walking back towards the Merry. All of a sudden, it started to downpour so everyone decided to run back to the ship as fast as they could before all of the ship's supplies got ruined (well, everyone except for Zoro, who was already back on the ship with his stuff, not wanting to stick around on any island longer than he had to).

As you all were running up the plank to board the ship one by one, Luffy suddenly called out to you from the dock as you tailed behind Nami with Sanji right behind you.

"Wait! Y/n!" he called out and you stopped at the top of the plank to look back at him through the rain. "What about your sea shell? Don't forget to go and grab one!"

You gasped and your eyes widened. Your heart nearly dropped at the thought of forgetting to grab a shell and in turn, forgetting all about your visit to this island. "My shell!"

"Your what?" Sanji asked loudly over the rain, next to you.

You quickly dropped your crate of supplies on the ship's deck, not caring anymore if they got wet or not. "I have to go get my sea shell!" you replied quickly, running past him and back to the dock.

"Don't worry, y/n, we will be waiting right here for you!" Luffy reassured with a nod. "Now go get your shell!" he yelled and raised his fist in the air.

You gave him a grateful smile as you dashed towards the nearest beach, Sanji watching you go with a curious look in his eye before bringing your supply crate inside and out of the rain.

That night, as Sanji was cleaning up the kitchen, you were still at the table finishing up the warm soup he had made that night for dinner (he loved that you were a slow eater, it meant that most nights he got to spend a little bit of extra alone time with you in his favorite place), he asked you about your niche hobby.

"Feeling better now?" Sanji asked, breaking the comfortable silence as he cleaned off one of his knives with a rag, sneaking a look at you with a small smile. "All warmed up from being out in the rain too long?"

You hummed in agreement. "Absolutely," you nearly purred in delight (Sanji felt his heartbeat stutter for a second at your tone. He's never heard you like that before). You looked at the chef with gratitude. "Your food always hits the spot Sanji, but the soup you made tonight just hit differently. It warmed me right up."

"Ok good," Sanji laughed softly, looking at you for a few seconds through his blonde hair, and flicked it to the side slightly. "I can't have you getting sick on me now." He finished cleaning off the one knife, setting it down on the counter, picking up another to clean before he asked with a raised brow, "So, uh, why did you go back today? Something about a sea shell?"

And that's how he learned about your niche hobby.

You told him all about it; about how you wanted a small token from everywhere you've ever been, how long you've been doing it, described some of your favorite sea shells you've found so far, and how you couldn't wait to show your collection to your kids and grandkids someday and in turn, telling them all about your adventures with the straw hat pirates.

As Sanji listened to you explain your hobby to him, he couldn't help but smile to himself, stealing glances at you every so often. He loved listening to you talk about the things you were passionate about. He loved the way your face lit up and your eyes sparkled.

And for something as unique and special as this? He loved it even more because he knew that this little hobby of yours went way beyond just collecting shells, it was your own way of physically manifesting your hopes and dreams. Each shell you acquired was another story you would tell your future kids about. You were sharing a part of your soul with him, and Sanji was completely enamored.

From that night forward, Sanji had decided that he too would start a sea shell collection of his own, without you knowing, so that someday in the future, he could surprise you and your kids with it, with the beautiful sea shells he had secretly collected right alongside you, his future wife, the whole time.

He couldn't wait to see the look on your face someday.

taglist: @mischiefmanaged71 @smolracoon25 @smol-book-nerd @shuujin @amanda08319 @nimtano @your-platonic-gay-lover @lovelymrvl @whiskeypowder

[dcxdpdabbles]

You're one of the best. Top ten writers.

I'm so happy you enjoy my writing. It always makes my day to see these types of messages. Love you too!

[depressionmeal]

btw thank you to my awesome followers for this warm welcome back after an unexpected 4.5 year hiatus I am on track to empty the submission box in 200 days or less at which point we will replenish it again

[lousydrawingsforgoodpeople]

v. proud of us

[cchrss]

HERE'S THE GUY AND HE ORDERED A SLICE OF PUMPKIN PIE!

[moreworldliness]

[ NERVES ] (2/6) - FIRST || NEXT

"Nah, it ain't nothin', it's just... a memory of mine, I think. Don't remember much of it."

the lighting is a little. screebly deebly on this one but !! overall, still like it !!

[the-raven-lady]

I'm so glad that the universe said, "Give these individuals an insatiable breeding kink but make most of them not want children," and made us all WH40k fanfic authors and artists.

[brozonelovergirl]

My very first Trolls fanfic story on Wattpad, Trolls: BroZone Camping Trip, has reached 40K READS!!! 🥳 🥳 🥳 I want to thank you all for supporting and reading this story!! I remember the time when I doubted about this story because I feared that nobody would like it, but looking how far I went with this story, I'm so proud that it made it this far! It's all thanks to you all!

[rottenzombrainz]

shout out to tkdb roleplay accounts

I love tkdb roleplay accounts!!!

[adam-trademark]

21 years old.

Thank you so very much to everyone who likes all of my posts here on Tumblr! You are all the best and I appreciate each and every one of you!

[occudo]

THANK YOU SO MUCH! You guys are the best!!