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sttoru · 2 days

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i wanna make a clan leader/head!satoru fic… w/ an arranged marriage.. you being scared of intimacy n all that bcs you’re inexperienced and the marriage was unexpected.. satoru being patient and gentle, not forcing you into anything unlike the others in his clan.. him protecting you when the other clan members shame you for not doing enough wifely duties.. bonus if you’re clumsy and can’t really do household chores 🙂‍↕️

#sttoru chats.#but then again i have too many drafts #RAHHGGGG #my brain needs to stop coming up w fic ideas #these 60+ drafts are notgonna finish themselves

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princessbrunette · 3 days

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dbf!john b who whispers “gooood girl” “doing so well for daddy” very quietly while while you sink down on his dick and covers your mouth with his big ass hands bc your dad is in the next room and you keep squealing

i’m squealing just reading this tbh …… having u split open on his lap with one hand cupping the back of your head and the other clamped over your mouth, looking at you with those wide desperate eyes, nodding and whispering “gooood job, baby. good girl. taking me real nice.” when you finally sink down to the hilt 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

#anon #dbf!johnb #john b prompt

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fawnchives · 15 hours

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a very warm hug from all three of the sturniolo triplets will solve, like, all of my problems i’m not even joking right now

#─ 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒂 rambles. 𝜗𝜚 #10 minutes for each problem i have so technically that would be an everlasting hug #& i’m very much okay with that ! 🙂‍↕️#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo

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hogwartsraccoon · 2 days

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Grab the back of Snape's cape and lift him up 🦇

Dangling dingling 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↔️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↔️

#severus snape #snape fanart #harry potter #professor snape

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geramiahvstheworld · 1 day

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More YaSammy Ponyo Fanart because today was so great for the crew! 💃🏼💃🏼💃🏼🙂‍↕️ Excited for all of the fans!

#jurassic world chaos theory #jwcc #jwct #jurassic world #yasammy #yasmina fadoula #sammy gutierrez #ponyo fanart #ponyo ghibli #studio ghibli #ghibli movie

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ywnzn · 3 days

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boy next door ᡣ𐭩 cute or wtv

ᡣ𐭩 song eunseok x fem!reader

ᡣ𐭩 synopsis. in which yn keeps texting a random number life updates, that turns out to be the boy next door.

₊ ⊹ prev | next ⊹ ₊

ᡣ𐭩 notes. time skip? kind of,, these are two months worth of content 🙂‍↕️ ignore the popcorn emoji in sungchan’s text.. idk where that came from 😭😭😭

ᡣ𐭩 taglist. [closed] @deobriize @starwonb1n @teddywook @seunghancore @molensworld @ahnneyong @lecheugo @eternalgyu @rksbae @hakkkuu @wonychu @nakam00t @totheseok @ilovechanhee @strawbaemi @miyawakiblossoms @kgyam4 @sseastar-main @rosesfortaro @dodot04lover @daegale @b-riize @snoopyana @lipsbyive @bludzk1llzyuzu @keilovr @ksywoo @bambisnc @poollabug @rllymark @jinanangel @bunni @drinktaro @wonbinsvlle @lcvehee @snowyseungs @miyawwn @nujeskz @https-yeonjun @esther-kpopstan

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elizakai · 2 days

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I don't need permission, with that said.... why don't you join us? We got room~

-Idiot anon

@swiftmitsu may be easy to fluster, oh innocent anon

ha.

you’ll have to try harder then that. 🙄🫸

#asks #anon #/joking around #it’s not easy having as many bitches as me #shimmy shimmy yay shimmy yah🙂‍↕️💔

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treedaddymcpuffpuff · 2 days

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Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine

TW: little bit of nsfw, BDSM mention, angst

You shouldn’t be googling ‘how to tell a guy no in a nice way’ at the nurse’s station, but something has to be done. You thought after you left Julian’s place that there would be a mutual understanding of “this isn’t going to work out, we’re too incompatible”, but he didn’t seem to get that memo.

The gifts just keep coming:

A pretty black silk dress in your exact size by Prada. Two crescent thin golden bangles for each wrist from Tiffany & Co that come in a robin’s egg blue box wrapped in a white satin ribbon. Upon close examination, you make out that they are subtly engraved in slanting script, JM. Really? His initials? You almost chuck them out the window just for that.

An expensive lunch from the fancy bistro that you can never afford, though you would have preferred a gourmet sandwich to an artisan salad.

A bouquet of fifty fucking red roses for Christ’s sake. They take up so much room at the nurse’s station that they’re a nuisance. They’re addressed to you, not signed—but you know exactly who they’re from. Then you have to field all the annoying questions about who’s your secret admirer? You hear Karen grumble that it must be that Officer Romeo and didn’t know cops got paid that good.

If only they knew. It would serve Julian right, if you just ratted him out to everyone.

This has to stop.

“Julian?”

He looks up from his mountain of paperwork. “Hey, look who it is. Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine. How are you?” Yeah, great, egg this on a little bit more instead of getting to the point. When will you learn?

“I’m spectacular,” he says. “I was wondering if you were alright because you called off for the first time yesterday?”

Yeah, so I didn’t have to face you after receiving the expensive ass jewelry…

Your smile feels forced enough to induce a migraine, but at least it gives you an idea for an excuse. “Yeah, I had a really bad migraine.”

“Oh, that’s not good. Do you get them frequently?”

“Yes.” It’s not exactly a lie, although these migraines you’re admitting to are actually just mild caffeine withdrawal headaches when you don’t have enough time to drink your coffee.

“Have you talked to your primary care provider about it?” He asks, standing up to flash his penlight in your eyes and dilate your pupils. He grips your chin and turns your head to check lateral eye movement, but you stop him.

“Julian, I’m fine. I didn’t have a stroke.”

“Don’t tell me you’re fine if you’re not fine,” he orders. “I can see there’s something wrong. You're pale and clammy.” He pulls out his big leather chair and guides you to sit in it. “Tell me what I can do to help.”

You look up at him, at this kind eyed, two sided man, and can’t do it. You can’t tell him to stop sending you gifts or buying you food, because you don’t want to be an asshole and you don’t want to hurt his feelings. Your nerves die along with your resolve.

“There, see, you look like you’re feeling better already. I’ll go buy you some water.”

“No, you don’t-“ he’s already gone halfway down the hall with those mile long legs.

You decide to take all the expensive gifts and shove them in the bottom of your closet to avoid feeling guilty when looking at them. But that doesn’t change the fact that you still have to look at Dr. Mercer and endure his caring, golden retriever persona.

This is what happens when you lie to yourself. You swear off relationships, move to a different part of the country, and then decide to go on a date—idiot—and these are the consequences for it. You feel like you have absolutely betrayed that girl that packed up her whole life to come to LA for a fresh start, and you’re sure she’s not forgiving you this time.

“No more,” you say to yourself, pushing the gift boxes to the back of the cobwebby closet. “No more dates, no more men. No more heartbreak. You stupid bitch. Yes, that includes Tom Ludlow. Shut up. I said. No. Tom. Ludlow.”

You end up screaming into a pillow, then calling your sister. She doesn’t answer, which is typical—probably on the road or using again or even dead in a ditch for all you know.

“Hey, Aggie, it’s me, gimme a call.” You play the voicemail back and then decide to delete it and hang up. You’re not exactly on speaking terms, but that ebbs and flows from one year to the next, so you’re not sure what she’ll think or do when she sees your name on her phone screen.

Your friend, Sheila, doesn’t answer either; she’s probably at work.

It sucks. You could really use some reassurance and comfort that you’re not alone or unwanted in this fucked up little world. Maybe that’s why you end up with your finger hovering over Tom Ludlow’s number while you sit on the floor of your bedroom. You stare at those digits for a long time, then tuck your phone away and cry.

You only get a chance to dive a little bit into this self pity session before your phone rings from your pocket. It’s not Aggie, nor Sheila, but a number you’ve unintentionally memorized nonetheless.

Now, you really have to fight with every piece of yourself not to answer Tom Ludlow. The lecture you just monologued becomes irrelevant next to the burning, awful fucking desire to hear him talk. You almost pick it up. Almost.

Watching your phone ring and ring, his name emblazoned on the screen, without answering feels like cutting out your heart and crushing it under your heel.

It goes to voicemail, but he hangs up before leaving a message.

A part of you that you didn’t even know that you need dies.

Good. Good riddance. Your heart only gets you into huge fucking trouble anyway.

You wait for your inner strength to return over the days that go by afterwards. Tom continues to call. You keep declining to answer. For some reason, you feel worse and worse every time the phone ceases to ring.

Where is you fucking girl power now?

All you really feel, is empty, and that is the vulnerable state Julian finds you in one late night at the nurses station.

“Y/n,” he greets you, leaning on the counter, looking down at you with a glimmer of something dangerous in his dark eyes. It’s a look he almost never lets out of the box while at the hospital, and suddenly your heart is in your throat.

“Doctor.”

For some reason this causes him to smile down at you, a slight curl of lips that unleashes a handful of fluttering butterflies in your belly.

“I’ve been thinking about you.”

You recall the massive bouquet of pure white lilies he had sent to your door yesterday, and believe him.

“Julian…”

He comes around the counter, smooth as a dark lake, reminding you of when he jumped over the couch and chased you like he was a wolf rather than a golden retriever. Your pussy gives a timid little throb at this, almost as if she’s asking for permission to come out after days of being punished, locked away in her gilded cage while you dealt with other, more pressing emotions, like the one that stabs you repeatedly in the chest while you let Tom Ludlow’s number go to voicemail.

“I can’t stop-“ he clears his throat, chin up as if he’s trying not to be nervous, and brushes some wispy, rogue hair off your neck. “I can’t stop thinking about you.” You can tell by the black matte of his eyes he means more than just platonically.

Every hair on your body stands at attention for that hungry, eat you alive look on the handsome Doctor’s face. Part of you, and it’s a bigger part than you’d like to admit, wants to have a gag stuffed down your throat and a tight slip knot holding it in place so that he can do whatever he wants without you ruining things with your fat mouth again.

“We’re just. We’re really not—Fuck.” You slap your forehead into your hands, and he takes it out, ever so gently with a big, shiver-inducing palm at the back of your neck, gripped softly in your hair, not exactly pulling, but lifting your face up to look at him nonetheless.

“Please, just hear me out.” It doesn’t sound like he’s used that first word very often—maybe not ever, or at least not for a very long time. Dr. Mercer’s picture is in the dictionary under the word ‘Polite’, but he practically runs this hospital, and with that responsibility comes a certain authoritative entitlement.

“Julian, we’re at work.” You don’t know how he manages to get you on the desk without alerting anyone around. The way he can just lift you easy and gentle has a familiar desire bubbling hot in your hips, and you can’t decide if you’re glad that you chose to chart in a more secluded area of the floor tonight or not.

“I can’t help it.” It sounds like he’s honest about that, voice splintering and needy as he presses his hard torso between your soft thighs. “I know that I fucked up, but if I don’t get a second chance to at least try and rectify this…” He’s not usually a man that doesn’t know what he wants to say.

This whole swearing off men thing? How is it supposed to fucking work if the men look and act like Julian? How are you supposed to do the whole proverbial keep it in your pants bit when a sexy, tall, beautiful doctor wants—desperately—to string you up to his bed and do horrible things to your body?

You can’t believe these words are coming out of your traitor's mouth as you bend under his will: “what kind of a second chance?”

He kisses you in response, long and slow, tongue slipping teasingly against the sensitive inner sanctum of your mouth. It leaves your toes curling, your chest rising quick and rapid, your white knuckles clutching the polished counter. He’s not exactly nice about it, pressing you back into the lip of the granite, holding the entire side of your face in his hard grip, turning your mouth red and swollen.

You’re going to have to bleach wipe this desk after all of this is done, because the insistent need of his mouth is making your comfy cotton underwear damp and warm like a humid summer night back at home.

“Let me take you to the club. Let me show you…let me help you understand.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Isn’t that the fucking understatement of the century? It sounds like a terrible idea. But, you were the one that wanted to understand him better. “When?”

The thrill seeker, she’ll never die. She needs blood, she’s thirsty, she doesn’t want a boring life of reading and watching the news. She wants to go to a BDSM club in Venice with a fine ass doctor and probably ruin your—her life in the process.

“When are you off next?” The grin on Julian’s face is all Mr. Hyde.

#Julian Mercer x Reader #tom ludlow x reader #tom ludlow #street kings #keanuverse fic #keanuverse #something’s gotta give #Sorry spooky more Julian 🙂‍↕️

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echoes-lighthouse · 2 days

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I’ve been playing the infinite craft app recently which is an app where you start with the 4 elements and then combine them to form Basically Anything so I wanted to share some of my favourite things I’ve made so far

Also then I really started zeroing in on fandom content, and then cursed fandom content, and now I’m just cackling and feeling like I’m torturing this game by making it try and combine terrible ships but it’s the best time I’ve had in a while

#ask to tag #infinite craft #hark I say nothing #their homestuck section is immaculate #it has so many inside jokes???#I can only imagine the other fandoms are similar but I haven’t deep dived #it took me a couple days to get to homestuck #my partner wants me to get to onceler-cest 🙂‍↕️#I shall try

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sturniolo-swift · 2 days

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hi i’m just kindly asking could someone PLEASE make a fic about this. I am going insane just watching this edit so reading would be even better.

thank you🙂‍↕️

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets

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suguru-getos · 1 day

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Waking up next go Satoru is exquisite because he treats you like his silly liddul plush toy, beefy forearms wrapped around you snug, face buried in the crook of your neck and his soft, rested breaths calming you throughout. You’re so used to it whenever he’s out abroad on missions you start malfunctioning. 🙂‍↕️

#gojo satoru #gojo fluff #jjk #Jujutsu kaisen #jjk fluff

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lottiecrabie · 2 days

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itll be you and me and this idea forever babe.. we might be alone but we Understand🤞

what if it wasn’t just us… 😌🙂‍↕️ and it entered the world through the miraculous art form that is writing by tumblr dot com user lottiecrabie 😌🙂‍↕️😏 (even just a crumblet)

for you my psychic linked sister. a little Crumb🫶

the saxophones and trumpets ring through the ballroom. the repetitive steps and roaring laughs mix through, skisloping off the kicks and twists of the t-strap shoes. the champagne flows out into a series of coupes and you grab one, spilling it on the side. you down a mouthful with a grin, still light and happy from the spinning dance you just twirled out of.

sweat sticks your headache band to your forehead. you fix up the feather. you fish a cigarette out of the emerald elephant dispenser, placing it between your ruby red lips. your eyes scan for a lighter next.

‘enjoying yourself?’ your ears perk up at the sound of his husky voice. you smirk, turning around to find detective healy.

with his modest trench coat and permanently gloomy predilection, he sticks out like a sore thumb amidst the decadent decor. it’s always a little funny to see him around such open fun, like he’s meant to exist in dark, cold alleys, frowning over a body. still, he looks handsome, dark and broody, with his sober eyes and his wild flowing hair.

you pull the cigarette from your lips with a smile. you shrug, crooning, ‘why, it’s a lovely night.’ healy searches the inside of his trench coat. ‘what about you? not too joyful for mr. grumps?’

he shakes his head, though a grin still teases his lips. he draws a lighter out. you lean closer to him, hanging the cigarette off your lips again. he flicks once, lighting up the tip. you exhale out the smoke, but stay near him. he smells like cedar and whiskey, like nights toasting after murders successfully solved.

healy gives you a look, shoving his lighter back in his trench coat. ‘what are you doing here, trouble?’

‘can’t a woman enjoy a soirée? my, if i was like you, i’d be locked up in my house all year round.’

‘you’d be safer for it.’

you smile, mischievous. ‘and your life much, much less fun.’ healy gives you a onceover, trailing on your uncovered legs. you take a sip of your champagne, drawing attention to your lips next. you give him a faux-innocent look, singsonging, ‘you know, mister briggs is an excellent charleston dancer.’

healy groans, rubbing his eyebrows. ‘tell me you didn’t dance with a murder suspect.’

you up your nose. ‘well, if you don’t want to know, then i guess i won’t share what he said.’ you whip around, taking two steps before a strong hand wraps around your arm.

you don’t even bother hiding your smirk before turning around. healy gives you a somber look, demanding, ‘spill.’ the tone of his voice sizzles down your spine.

‘is this a shakedown?’ his jaw ticks. a crystalline voice spills from your lips. ‘you’re cute when you’re annoyed.’

‘then i must be ravishing every time i’m in your company.’

your eyes spark. ‘oh, yes, you are, detective.’ healy swallows thickly, dropping his hand from your hand as if burned. you cock your head, tension still fizzling. ‘promise me a dance and i’ll tell you.’

‘a dance?’

‘oh, you do know a foxtrot, don’t you, detective healy?’

his stare burns. ‘fine.’

you hum, turning to look at the roaring party. ‘mister briggs has a lovely summer home in brighton. he loves to entertain his most favorite guests there. why, he just invited me,’ you catch briggs chatting up a young lady, brushing the pearl on her ear. you sigh regrettably, ‘but i’m afraid the cold sea air doesn’t agree with my predilection.’

‘brighton. where francesca would visit every month.’

‘oh yes,’ you throw him a look. your shoulders up excitedly. ‘francesca and mister briggs were having an affair. how scandalous.’

he grins and, oh, this might be your favorite look of his. rare but dazzling, shining over his face. he says, ‘that’s motive.’

you tsk. ‘and you didn’t even want me to dance.’ he opens his mouth to protest, but you’re too quick. your throw your coupe on the table, discarding your smoke on the elephant head. you grab his hand, cutting him off, tugging him to the dancefloor. ‘come on, you owe me one.’

‘there’s a murder suspect at large.’

‘oh, please,’ you halt in the middle of the floor; your hand on his shoulder, his finding home on your waist— no matter his protests. the touch is electric, burning through your dress. you feel wired. ‘he’s not going anywhere. this is the soirée of month, after all.’

matty sighs resignedly. languid jazz plays. he takes a first step, gliding across the floor. his moves are certain and precise. you follow his rhythm, pushing and pulling at his guidance. detective healy is a good dancer. what an interesting new morsel of information.

in the crook of your ear, healy whispers, ‘one day, all this frolicking with trouble will really get you in deep waters, darling.’

you lean back enough to meet his eyes. ‘then it’s lucky you’ll be there to save me, isn’t it, detective?’

#i fear this will still be just us but Oh what a fun idea still #blurb #detective!au #matty healy fic #matty healy x reader #ask

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toniiswrld · 1 day

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The feminine urge to give Anton head😔

giving anton head would be so good, he’d turn red and his whole body would heat up. he’d keep his hands by his side gripping whatever surface was under him while he tried not to thrust too hard into your mouth. when he’s close he turns becomes a mess, he’s whimpering and begging you to let him cum while your mouth is wrapped around his tip sucking harshly.

i’m a believer of anton being a head pusher but he doesn’t do it on purpose. when he runs a hand through your hair he gets too lost in the feeling and accidentally pushes your head down making you choke around him, and then he’s cumming down your throat with his hand still pushing your head down.

confession i actually refuse to give head… but for anton ill let it slide🙂‍↕️

#toniiswrld 💌#toniiswrld☆hard hours #riize hard hours #anton hard hours

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