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heslovable-layouts · 23 days

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harry summer layouts

∴∵∴ ୨୧ ∴∵∴ ୨୧ ∴∵∴ ୨୧ ∴∵∴

• like if you save

• (୨୧•͈ᴗ•͈)◞ᵗʱᵃᵑᵏઽ*♡

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despair-edits · 2 years

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Makoto, Kyoko, Byakuya, Toko, Aoi and Yasuhiro (DR1): Pinterest Header in Red and Black

For: Anon

Free to use

- Mod Peko

#mod peko #danganronpa #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #makoto naegi #kyoko kirigiri #byakuya togami #aoi asahina #toko fukawa #yasuhiro hagakure #dr thh #dr1 #danganronpa edit #danganronpa headers #pinterest header #edits #red aesthetic #black aesthetic #red headers #black headers

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lilac-dreamxxz · 7 months

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• ˓ 🫐 ̼ ׁ ׅ ୨୧ ⊹ ࣪ 神

• ☆ ͡ ݂ ⩇:⩇ ' ۫ 🪻 ࣪ 𓈒

• ֹ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ꔫ ‎ ࣭ 🍇 ◞ ✿ .⠀ 술

[ ☂️ : header ctto ]

@ lilac on Pinterest <3

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thwreco95 · 7 months

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random bios meme !!

eu não qro sair da cama mim quer ficar quietinho

estou completamente jururu & borocochô

amor diculpa por ser chato mim tim ama

ei mim espera nao vai embora pufavo mim eh pequenininho nao consegue tim alcança

ei vose esqueceu d mim responder di novokkk

me vê 2 kilos d carinho e amor

eu quero sair eu quero sair pra bebe alguem mim leva

amigos perdao estou me esforçando para ser minha melhor versao

eu vou rachar meu crânio de propósito

like or reblog pls

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gigittamic · 3 months

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͏͏𝓝oughts & ͏͏ 𝓒rosses , jimin style. ❤︎ ໋𓈒

𖹭⠀࣭⠀ㅤㅤ⋆ 🐈‍⬛ ˒ ༉ @f-loqweres

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fic-over-cannon · 4 months

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Strawberry Pie

jason todd x gn!reader

summary: you spend a lazy morning finishing baking the pie that Jason started

tags: kissing, fluff, domestic jason todd

rated teen | wc: 1.1k

a/n: a loosely inspired song fic. can be read as a future scene from A Soft Touch or as a standalone. just wanted something light and fluffy and was possessed with the urge for pie so here it is.

It’s warm this morning, but there’s a cool cross-breeze coming in through the open window. It’s not late enough in the spring to start turning on the AC yet, the breeze currently lifting the sheer curtains enough to keep the apartment fresh. You reach over to the empty side of the bed, let your hand bunch up into a fist before pushing yourself upright and out of bed. Jason had told you, between parting kisses, that he’d be late coming home, the planned stakeout likely to go on until noon. You’d expected this, unworried by his absence but still secretly hoping he’d have returned safe to you.

You make yourself a cup of tea and drink it leaning against the countertop, the Formica countertop digging into the small of your back, the thin cotton of your tank top barely blunting the edge. Feeling hungry, you go looking for breakfast ingredients in the fridge. There’s a note from Jason, stuck to the top of the strawberries you’d bought at the farmer’s market yesterday. For pie, do not eat! signed off with a little heart and smiley face. A few shelves down is the pie dough, covered in plastic wrap and exactly where Jason had left it, in a hurry to follow up on the lead his lieutenant had called in.

It’s a lazy Saturday morning, time stretching out in front of you. You pull out the dough and berries, set them onto the counter. Go rummaging through Jason’s box of recipe cards, one of his last keepsakes from his mother and added to by Alfred, until you can find the one for strawberry pie. The recipe is easy enough, Jason having done all the hard work of making the dough.

You start by turning on the radio, an old analogue thing that Jason had been determined to fix by himself, and setting the oven to preheat. The strawberries go into a colander, washed and ready for slicing. You pop one into your mouth and it just about bursts on your tongue, bright and sweet like sunshine. They’re smaller than the kind you can buy at the grocery store, seeds more prominent and scent stronger. It’s a shame that these wild strawberries are only available a few months of the year but it makes them that much sweeter. Humming, you slice through the quart of berries, juice staining your fingertips. Put them in a bowl with cornstarch and sugar, a dash of lemon juice to finish.

Turning to the dough, you start rolling half out onto the floured countertop. It fits into the pie dish Jason had brought back from one of his missions almost perfectly, only a few hanging edges in need of trimming. Feeling adventurous, you decide to braid some of the lattice work for the top. It comes out a little lopsided, but it’s a good first attempt. Fingers pinching, the fluted edge of the pie takes shape. A light hand with the egg wash and a sprinkle of Demerara sugar later and it’s done. You step back to admire your work. It makes a pretty picture, the pie on the marbled countertop, white tulips in a vase from your one foray into pottery, mid-morning sun bright and white through the kitchen windows.

The pie goes into the oven, and you start cleaning up the evidence of your morning’s activities. The dishes go into the washer, the countertop wiped clean, leftover berries into your stomach. So engrossed in your tasks, you don’t hear the door open or the duffel bag hit the floor of the entryway. Arms circle around you, pick you up and spin you in a circle. Jason sets you down, buries his face in your neck.

“Something smells good,” he murmurs into your hair. And it does, the air filled with the scent of golden pastry and roasting strawberries.

“It should. I’ve been working away on that pie all morning.”

“Thought that was my job.” He tries to pout, but you swat at his hip with the dish towel. The timer on the oven goes off, interrupting the moment.

“Well that,” and you gesture at the oven, “can be your job now.”

He accepts his new job with minimal pouting, scooping up the bee-patterned oven mitts and taking out the pie. It’s perfect, golden with rich red juice bubbling through the lattice work. Steam rises off the top in a way that’s got both of your mouths watering. Jason reaches out to pinch off a piece of crust with his bare hand, but you swat his hands away before he can burn his fingers.

“Not yet! It’s got to cool first Jay.” Looking him over, you finally catch on that he’s still got his jacket on and fully zipped up, despite the warm day. He only ever does that when his shirt’s got bloodstains on it. “Go on, take a shower. By the time you’re done the pie’ll be ready and you can have some for breakfast.”

Jokingly holding his hands up in surrender, he starts heading for the bathroom. “Okay, okay, I’m going!”

“Oh and don’t forget to throw anything bloody into the washer, not the laundry basket! I want to run the next load before the stain really sets in this time,” you call over your shoulder. Last time Jason had left it too long, had ended up having to throw away a previous favourite shirt when neither of your combined efforts had gotten the dried blood spatter out.

He makes a noise of assent and you get busy unloading the dishwasher as you can hear the spray of the shower turn on, leaving out two small plates beside the pie. Some forks, a large knife, and an ice cream scoop join them on the counter. You’re just getting the ice cream out of the freezer, the expensive kind with real vanilla beans that Jason splurges on, when he walks back into the kitchen. He hasn’t dried his hair properly, a habit you haven’t gotten him to break in all the time you’ve known each other and grown to just accept.

You hand the knife over to him with a careful kiss, let him carve up slices for the both of you, hands sure and steady. You’re struggling with the ice cream, frozen solid and unwilling to be scooped. Jason notices, gently nudges you out of the way with his hip and takes over, depositing two perfect spheres of ice cream on top of each slice of pie.

Picking up a fork, you feed him the first bite, hand cupped below it to catch any droplets of ice cream. He closes his eyes, goes silent for a moment. You start to get worried that somehow you’ve messed it up, maybe mixed up the salt with the sugar but you were sure it had tasted just fine when you’d licked the filling syrup off of your wrist.

“So? What do you think?”

He smiles before opening his eyes. “I think it tastes like home.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x gender neutral reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagine #jason todd fic #red hood x you #red hood x reader #jason todd #Spotify #header images from pinterest #header by benkeibear

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zack-agere · 2 months

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◡ 𖦹 Coloured Headers !! 〰 ﹒⟢

f2u, reblog to save and / or use !

don't repost, and tell me if you want more ! ♡

note : if you see a pink line on the side, it's a weird glitch, the headers don't have it !

edit : I've made some more !

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kiochisato · 5 months

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♡　＃　𓂃　Yaoyao & Pompompurin tumblr Layouts ! ❥　.　➶　 requested by @serenitiiy. enjoy !

( if someone else asks me to do genshin characters x sanrio im gonna throw my phone out the window ... /hj i enjoy making these sometimes )

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spookyrea · 11 days

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Left Your Mark

Loki lets you put lipstick on him so you can kiss if off right after.

~900 words, heavy petting-ish?, no use of y/n

A quick drabble drafted up in my carpool home last night. We love coworkers who enable you :)

“Stop squirming," you chastised.

Loki glared up at you. You hovered over his chest, balanced with your hands on his shoulders. His waist was bracketed by your knees on the comforter, your thighs spread wide to accommodate his body under you.

The game you were playing was balanced on a precarious edge; you were never quite sure when Loki's mood could snap, but you loved to test him to find out. Both of you knew that he could overpower you if he wanted. Today, despite the flicker of annoyance in his light eyes, he seemed particularly docile; beneath you he glowered, but continued to play the part of your domesticated little villain as long as it meant he could worm his hands under your ass, his long fingers spread wide to palm the backs of your thighs. He squeezed for good measure, fingertips edging dangerously close to the hem of your shorts. A petulant sound withered in his throat as he flopped, dejectedly, back against the pillows.

You leaned across him and rummaged around inside your bag on the bedside table. You returned triumphant a moment later, a shiny black tube of lipstick in your hand.

“Is this really necessary?” Loki grumbled, watching you uncap the offending thing.

“You said I could do whatever I wanted to you,” you replied breezily. “This is what I want.”

“When I promised you anything you wanted, I had expected you to be sitting a bit higher than my chest, darling.” His expression twisted; the pout on his face betrayed his centuries of being waited on hand and foot, a petulance so cleverly honed to get him whatever he wanted from courtiers and kitchen staff alike. Luckily for you, the gallows weren’t an option if you denied him, so you could ignore his moodiness and enjoy the simple pleasure of watching him squirm.

(Though there was undoubtedly a punishment waiting for you after this - you hoped, anyway.)

“Maybe later, if you’re a good boy.” You raised the tube of lipstick and steadied his face with one hand. “Now stop talking.”

You traced the shape of his cupid’s bow carefully, watching the way his skin yielded under the slightest pressure before bouncing back. You filled in his narrow pout with a bright swipe of cherry red, the finish not quite matte, just shiny enough to catch the light in an alluring way. Despite his earlier complaints, Loki went willingly when you pulled on his chin, parting his mouth slightly for better access. The bullet tugged on his bottom lip just slightly, the malleable flesh rolling before coming away with a dark flush of colour.

You wiped away a smudge just under the fullest part of his bottom lip. With one hand under his jaw, you tilted his face up just a hair to look at you. “You’re so pretty, baby.”

His hands tightened around the backs of your thighs, urging you just a breath higher up his body. The bed shifted; with the windows closed, the room was stifling in its silence, so quiet you could hear the sound of the blankets rustling as his shoulders flexed. The cap of the lipstick tube snapped into place. You tossed it over your shoulder, where it disappeared with a muffled thump on the carpet. Loki’s eyes lingered on your mouth, pupils blown wide to soak in every detail of your expression.

You leaned your weight on one hand beside his head and pressed your mouth to his. A sigh escaped him, punched out through his nose when you rocked forward slightly to get a better angle. One of his hands shot out from under you and closed around the back of your neck like a vice, fingertips heavy against the soft hairs at your nape.

You squeaked when his hips rearranged, lifting you up from the bed momentarily. Taking advantage of your surprise, Loki pushed down on the small of your back, encouraging you to lay your full weight on top of him. He tilted his head to the other side, closing his lips around your bottom one; you felt the sticky drag of fresh lipstick under the swell of it, smearing across your chin with purpose. His mouth opened just slightly, plying yours apart to swipe his tongue teasingly across yours, and his top lip brushed the corner where your cheek and upper lip joined.

You pulled away with a slick sound. Loki followed you with a whine, half-lidded eyes still fixed on your bottom lip. The hand on your neck managed to wrestle you back to him, though he missed your mouth by a heartbeat, smearing more lipstick on the corner of your mouth before he managed to slot against your top lip. The faint taste of vanilla, powdery and a little chemically, lingered on your tongue when you licked into his mouth.

“Loki,” you murmured against his mouth. Then, with a sigh as his hand slid back down to palm your ass, “Loki.”

He let you pull away, but not without a great sound of discontent. His chest heaved under yours. His fingers flexed against the meat of your thigh while his thumb dug meanly into the crook of your hip, massaging in circles.

Both his hands rose to close over your cheeks. His thumbs traced the ring of red around your mouth, lingering with a hunger you knew well. His voice, broken, breathless, rumbled through the quiet space. “Pretty.”

His darkened eyes flickered up to meet yours. Something smoldered behind them, a well of want so deep you felt as though you could drown in it. He drew you down until your mouths were just touching, the barest pressure of skin on skin, so your breaths mingled in that tiny space. He pressed the softest of kisses to your upper lip. “Let’s see what else we can stain, shall we?”

#loki fanfic #loki x female reader #loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki x you #for the record the header is a painting of mine from like a year ago because I was too lazy to surf Pinterest #based off of that one photo of MGG. you know the one.#reader insert #x reader

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ddaluberry · 8 months

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