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6 months ago

•• J

UU UU

I have no idea what I made but I love it


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2 years ago

Omg this is amazing! I love this fckin gammee!!! 💜💜

I need a hobby,,,


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2 years ago

study buddy

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Title: study buddy

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Mandatory summer-school is torture. Adding you into the mix, however, makes it the kind of torture Eddie can see himself enduring.

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, Public Sex, Breeding, Recreational Drug Use

A/N: i started a new drabble series 👀 i tried to resist Eddie, and i just couldn’t 😮‍💨. the content ahead is inappropriate for minors, so Minors, DNI! hope you all enjoy 😏

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How it started: 

That fucking skirt.

Eddie narrows his eyes at it, his tongue pressing against his teeth as he fights not to say anything. It’s practically obscene how short it is—if you lived with your parents, surely they never would have let you out of the house in that fuckin’ thing, right? The denim cups the curve of your ass perfectly, like it was made to do just that. The hem is dangerously high, one wrong move would expose everything, right here in the goddamn Hawkins Memorial Library.

Keep reading


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4 years ago

now this is what I call

A R T

Oops i sneezed, i'm so fucking sorry Idia

Oops I Sneezed, I'm So Fucking Sorry Idia
Oops I Sneezed, I'm So Fucking Sorry Idia

Idk why but i feel like idia has a little bit of hair underneath the fire but at the same time i feel like there's nothing


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4 years ago
Asfhkgj Please Tell Me No One Else Has Thought Of This Yet

asfhkgj please tell me no one else has thought of this yet


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6 years ago

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3 years ago

“I’m malfoy. Draco malfoy. No need to ask your name. Acute angles, at 76 degrees…. You must be an icsoles.

malachithefloof - Lil’ Evil Floof

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9 months ago
Orchestra AU: After Ten Years Apart, Rhaenyra Targaryen Re-enters Alicent's Life For A Set Of Solo Engagements

Orchestra AU: After ten years apart, Rhaenyra Targaryen re-enters Alicent's life for a set of solo engagements with her orchestra. Things go about as well as expected (not very). fic link by @mitchelljoni


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A Lil' Sth Because I Adore Jack ;-; | Sketch/redraw Of A Screenshot From One Of The Episodes ~

a lil' sth because I adore Jack ;-; | Sketch/redraw of a screenshot from one of the episodes ~


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3 years ago

Aim For The Heart | Chapter 14: Beyond My Control

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Pairing: hitman!jungkook x female reader

Genre: angst, fluff, romance, drama

WC: 8k

Warnings for this chapter: this chapter gets heavy guys! strong language, blood, minor character death, homicide, use of a gun, mentions of stalking, mentions of intended noncon, creeper being creepy af, insinuated past physical and emotional abuse, jungkook is a damned fool when it comes to feelings he is v confused give him a lil break tho 🥺, oc is too pure for this world, fluff that’ll kill you and bring you back to life simultaneously, Barbie slander 😤 jk has an epiphany

Tag list; @hopekookies @moonchild1 @barbellastyles98 @teresaisla @ggukkieland @mwitsmejk @scuzmunkie @jaebeomsblackgf @sugaslittlekookies @moon-asia @bangtannie7 @yoonchrisgull @njkbangtan @higashikatasgf @jksbbyfacebunny @kookiesxbananamilk @voidswan-recs @sadxaries @bts-junseagull @jinfused @taehyungiev13 @gaeguuliii @kimnamjoonluvbot @jungkooook @mutterseelenalleinn @surilirani @patpus @yukiehyukie @crypticsabbat @ohyeahjk @steffiiirose @the-falling-star @telepathytae @erenkook ​ 

summary; Jeon Jungkook is an infamous hitman, known for his inability to fail at whatever job is thrown his way. At least, up until now. Y/n, a kind-hearted and full of life teacher, is his newest target. Jeon isn’t sure who would put a hit on this seemingly innocent girl, but fortunately, that isn’t his problem. All he has to do is pull the trigger.

Previous > Next

Jungkook’s brain short-circuits when you wrap your arms around his waist and stuff your face into his shirt.

“Please-” You hiccup, “Please s-stay with m-me, Jungkook.”

He’s frozen, like a deer in the headlights.

You hug him tighter, rubbing your face into his t-shirt and wetting it with your tears.

Weiterlesen


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3 years ago

don’t know if we can be friends || jjk

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– summary: you fall in love with jeongguk, the boy who showed you the sun on a bleak, rainy day, but you weren’t sure if he wanted you. 

– genre: high school, best friends to strangers to lovers, post (friendship) break up au. fluff & angst – warning: mentions of drugs, drinking, lots of clichés, lots of pining, jeongguk acts like an idiot, small mention(s) of baseball and harry potter (which i do not own), attempts of being funny.

– word count: 15,068

Weiterlesen


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8 months ago

He literally scooped him up into that hug AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Mah bby got his happy ending !!!

Mah Bby Got His Happy Ending !!!
Mah Bby Got His Happy Ending !!!
Mah Bby Got His Happy Ending !!!
Mah Bby Got His Happy Ending !!!
Mah Bby Got His Happy Ending !!!
Mah Bby Got His Happy Ending !!!

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1 year ago
From My Sketchbook! It's A Week's Worth Of Doodles, When My Classes Are Boooring Hehe

from my sketchbook! it's a week's worth of doodles, when my classes are boooring hehe


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4 years ago

GELKQGHQLFH THIS IS SO GOOD IT'S UNREAL i'm sobbing wtf TT

Everyone is so goddam talented and Ozma is so good; and Ozpin and the little Oscar at the end aaaaa

"There are approximately 1,010,300 words in the English language, but I could never string enough words together to properly express how much I -" LOVE THIS BLBLBL

Two dozen lovely artists juggled lost files, broken tablets, exam seasons and more to bring you this labor of love - a multi-artist picture music video about Ozma’s lives so far. I hope you enjoy watching as much as we all did making it! 

@lutzsan / @grimmons / @whateverworkswithme / @kobatoo / @ ShadowDapple on Twitter / @starryeydsailor / @wowizard / @lesbianviolet / @blueinkjpeg / @th-xeno / @z-1-wolfe / @mynameisactuallyten / @mcmystery / @ sunbaby.art on Instagram / @dissonantharmony / @principally-ace / @phoenixgreen / @remnant-roses 

(These are the links to the artists’ tumblrs where available - preferred social medias will be linked in a separate reblog because Tumblr sucks.)


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1 month ago
A CINDERELLA STORY Dir. Mark Rosman (2004)
A CINDERELLA STORY Dir. Mark Rosman (2004)
A CINDERELLA STORY Dir. Mark Rosman (2004)
A CINDERELLA STORY Dir. Mark Rosman (2004)
A CINDERELLA STORY Dir. Mark Rosman (2004)
A CINDERELLA STORY Dir. Mark Rosman (2004)
A CINDERELLA STORY Dir. Mark Rosman (2004)
A CINDERELLA STORY Dir. Mark Rosman (2004)

A CINDERELLA STORY dir. Mark Rosman (2004)


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1 year ago

He grows tomatoes.

Well, he tries to. Crowley does not usually try to grow plants. He decides to grow them, and they obey. It's vendetta ad vengeance at once. But lately, nothing seems to obey his will. It's weak, that will, broken into smithereens just like his heart.

And he can't even take it out on his plants. That's because Crowley has mercy.

So he tries to grow tomatoes.

It's summer (the first summer without him) and he has lodged in an airbnb in the country, and behind an old ramshackle ram-shack he has made himself a little plot of land. Well - it's all God's stupidly green earth, isn't it. But this two by two piece of earth he claims for himself. He could have at least that, right? He looks up at the sky. Frowns.

Let me have at least that.

Aziraphale liked to do things the hard way. (He's still doing that, Crowley supposes, up there. Up there. He's not dead, but it feels like it. He's gone. Gone to Heaven. Not to a better place.) Aziraphale liked to do it properly, the human way, when it pleased him. Which was often, but not always. French. Nom de dieu de merde. Pardon his French.

Pardon his stupid everything.

Crowley inspects his tomato plants. He's trying to grow them the human way. Funny, that. He nurses them like he nurses his heart, and miracles won't do. He's tried.

I think I should not be encouraged to grow tomatoes, he thinks.

Raindrops fall on red and green: the plants and the vines and the tomatoes and his hair. It's August, it shouldn't be raining this much. It's been a shitty August. It's been a shitty year. Thirteen months and two weeks and one day, to be exact. Not like he's keeping count. Why bother?

There's a spot on one of the leaves, and Crowley's heart sinks beore it even had the chance to ever rise. It's only one tiny, dark, black spot, but he knows what it means. It means it's too late.

A horrible month. A horrible life. Not the right conditions to thrive. Disease, showing its ugly head, grinning. It's already too late. It's always too late. It would multiply and spread.

His soul is a tomato leaf.

Black as grief.

He's tended these seedlings, he's raised them, and planted them, too, and here they are before him tall and proud and still alive, and Crowley knows they are already dying. He can relate.

The sensible thing to do is to discard it all, be done with them. It's not worth the effort, technically, to keep them alive, but to Crowley it's worth it. It has to be. They are worh it. He is worth it. Stupid stubborn perseverance, stupid stubborn hopeful heart.

He isn't immune to foreshadowing. He looks up again. Angry, this time, bitter. A bit of surrender, too.

The rain drips and drops on his face.

He looks back down, snaps the sickly leaf off with expert fingers. Continues to tend to the plants, as he will until they inevitably die. He plucks a tiny tomato. It's so small, fragile, one of the first of a doomed harvest: but it tastes sweet.

Determined, Crowley continues his labor of love, patient as with all living things.

He is responsible for these vines.

Maybe, despite everything, just this once, he can nurture his heart back to health. (And maybe, just maybe, he is not human and does not do things the human way. When it pleases him. He's always been a rebel. Just a little miracle, a little bit of life-giving defiance. So small no one notices, not even us.) Crowley smiles.

He grows tomatoes.

.

This ficlet was inspired by Louise Glück's Vespers. May she rest in peace. "In your extended absence, you permit me use of earth, anticipating some return on investment. I must report failure in my assignment, principally regarding the tomato plants." read the full poem here


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2 years ago

You right — MM

AUTHOR: im exhausted but @mercedesjpg is my friend so here you go bby

SUMMARY: […] I got a man but I want you […]

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw content, cheating ig

You Right — MM

“Lost your boyfriend, darling?” Mason slips past you, his hands on your waist as he makes room for himself. You gulp, chugging down the alcohol in hopes the brit is leaving soon. You don’t trust yourself around him.

“He’s playing beer pong with the others.” For some reason you feel like you owe him any explanation and it shows a lot about the type of relationship you two share. Mason smirks behind his cup, nodding. He’s always thought there’s something between you two and— as ironic as it may seem— now that you’ve been dating one of his ex teammates there’s more tension than ever. Mason knows you’ll never admit it but things aren’t as great as you pretend them to be in your relationship.

“And what is a pretty girl like you doing in here? All alone?” He insists, even though his smirk speaks louder than his words. You have been trying to suppress whatever it is that you feel towards the Chelsea midfielder but it seems impossible now that he’s standing right in front of you, looking back at it you wish you hadn’t drunk at all.

“What do you want, Mase?” You ask, already tired of his mind games. He’s unbothered a d simply chuckles at your rudeness. He likes you like this: feisty, annoyed, irritated. Because he knows he has this power over you. The brit leans forward on his forearms, his head a few inches from yours. You can smell his scent and suddenly your knees grow weaker. Fuck.

“You.” He whispers, watching your eyes get lost for a second. You will never admit it but you want him, just as much as he wants you. But you both like the chase, the bickering, the fighting. But he knows. You know. The mask slips only for a second before you scoff at his words, rolling your eyes.

“Fuck off, will you?” You turn around, looking for a new cup to pour yourself water. You definitely need to sober up if you want to stop yourself from making any horrible mistake. Mason leans back and laughs again. He’s hit a nerve and you both know it. You should know Reece’s house by now— the amount of parties he’s hosted so far can’t be counted on two hands— nevertheless you’re suddenly lost. Mason notices and comes in your rescue. Classic.

“Need a hand, princess?” He loves the cringed expression you make every time he uses overly sweet pet names. You shake your head, but Mason has seen coming. In fact, he’s already reaching for the top shelf to grab the cup you’ve looking for. You glare at him as he shows it to you.

“You’re welcome.” He winks at you. Again you try to ignore his presence but it’s impossible for two main reasons: even just his existence irritates you and that scent of his is making you go crazy. The only thoughts running through your mind are definitely inappropriate and for a moment you’re scared that even just by locking eyes he might notice them.

“How are things going with him?” You find it funny that he refuses to mention his name most of the time. He’s never been your boyfriend’s biggest fan, not even when they played for the same team. You lean against the counter, in front of him. The space between you two should be enough to prevent you from doing anything regrettable.

“Great. How are things going with her?” Your sass is impeccable and it makes Mason smile. Ever since seeing him with some brunette at Ben’s birthday you can’t shake the feeling of uneasiness off you. Mason can see right through your jealousy though. The brit knows you a bit too well for your own good.

“Jealous? You know you’re my only one, darling?” He smiles and you want to punch him but suddenly remember you’re a civilized person with manners and punching people isn’t socially acceptable. So you simply sigh loudly, showing him your annoyance. Once again he’s hit a nerve. You hate how well he knows you. Because it turns you on, more than your boyfriend has ever been able to. But that’s another story.

“Of what? I could have you whenever, Mount.” You talk too much and the amused look on his face shows it. You’re already preparing yourself for one of his comebacks before you’ve even finished speaking.

“Really? Is that so, princess?” Mason smirks as he stands straight and starts getting closer. You know this game too well yet you fall for it most of the time. But right now you don’t know if you can find the strength within your own self to push him off.

“You’ve been trying to get in my pants for months, Mount.” You state the obvious. But Mason doesn’t falter. He simply looks at you, that stupid smirk still on his lips. He stares at you like he knows something that you don’t and it pisses you off how attractive you find him. With his stupid white t-shirt and black baggy jeans. You’ve found yourself staring at his arm tattoos for more than you should and it’s probably just a matter of time before the brit realizes that too. If he hasn’t already.

“You act like you aren’t dying to kiss me, princess.” He says with such nonchalance you almost forget the meaning behind his words. You gulp, trying to burn him with your gaze but he simply smiles back. Your interaction is silenced by the loud music coming from the other room, the door is closed and the kitchen is the last place people usually stumble across.

“I have a boyfriend.” The excuse is old and it makes no difference to Mason because it makes no difference to you. Your boyfriend is the last of your problems right now and you know you’ll feel more guilty in the morning but your brain isn’t functioning when Mason steps closer. The brit tilts his head to the side as he stares you down.

“I can give you a few good reasons why you should drop him, baby.” He mumbles, his fingers moving a strand of hair behind your ear. The world’s oldest trick. Yet you fall for it. Your heartbeat increases as you try to talk yourself out of this mess of a situation. But Mason has too much of a strong hold on you to prevent yourself from making any dumb decision.

“Go on, I wanna hear them.” You try to mask your nervousness behind a fake laughter. Mason licks his bottom lip, his eyes briefly falling to your mouth before meeting yours once again. You’re completely, utterly, beyond any repair lost.

“Actually I’m more of a shower than a talker.” He speaks with his usual smug. You don’t have it in you to answer his cockiness so you shush him with your lips on his. Your hands hold onto him as if afraid you’d fall but Mason keeps you close and still, not wanting to let go. You’re fucked.

Realization doesn’t hit you until you find yourself bent over the bathroom sink, undies in the brit’s back pocket. His cock is definitely as big as his ego and for once you aren’t complaining. Tears ruin your make up down your cheeks and Mason takes pride in observing such scene. You can’t tear your eye off him nor can he. Mason loves watching how well you can take him and listen to the unholy sounds that leave the lips he can’t wait to kiss again. All you can think about — besides how good he feels— is how you could have deprived yourself of such experience for so long. You should feel ashamed, guilty, disgusted but none of those feeling find space left in the room filled with filth and pleasure. Mason sees you struggling and slows down, but goes deeper. A strangled moan leaves your lips, you almost sob out of pleasure. He leans down, his face next to yours. Brown eyes have never looked so sexy in your whole life.

“Are these reasons good enough for you, darling?” He smirks and you’d find another sassy answer for him under other circumstances. So you simply let your moans speak for you. You don’t care if it boosts his ego any further, for once the dick is worth it. Mason chuckles lowly before kissing your cheek. His kisses move to your neck where he moves your hair out of the way and starts sucking on the skin. You want to tell him to not leave any mark but you can’t, you don’t want to.

“My good girl, aren’t you?” He mumbles in your ear, his hips not faltering once. You’re suddenly jealous of any girl who’s got to experience him before you. Because he’s addicting. You can never have enough. His words make you clench around his length and he notices, grunting against your ear as his high approaches just as fast as yours. Any other time you’d tell him to fuck off, but not right now. You simply nod frenetically, eager to reach your orgasm.

“Good girl.” He praises you before pecking your temple and wrapping his arm around you to slightly switch the angle. You lock eyes through the mirror: he’s nowhere done with you…


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