welcome to my blog! you can call me holly. it's been like a year since i've used tumblr 'n i thought i'd give myself a fresh start with a new blog! lookin' for moots and cool ppl. ૮ • ﻌ - ა
i write for everybody. fem!reader, masc!reader, gender neutral!reader and everything in between. if you're looking for something specific like disabled!reader or neurodivergent!reader then i'd be happy to write that! this is a safe space for everyone ♡
(side note: i am a veryyyy slow writer so i apologise greatly if you send an ask or request something and i don’t respond i swear im working on it 😖)
✮⋆˙ interests: call of duty, gilmore girls, obx, the evil within, the callisto protocol, katsuki bakugou & mha, corridor (roblox), red dead redemption 2, the sims 4, minecraft, bones, criminal minds, 9-1-1, prison break, 'n many more!
.˚✿˖° dni: basic dni (homophobes, transphobes/terfs, racists, zionists, etc.) rude ppl, creeps n weirdos, fandom/fanfic police.
Ok like. Imagine life without ads. You wake up, check your messages across a variety of apps, no ads. You get up and put on the tv while you prep your breakfast, no ads. Maybe you drive somewhere and switch on the radio, no ads. Maybe you drive a long distance, yet somehow, not a single billboard on your path. You pick up a newspaper or magazine to pass the time, no advertisements only articles. You turn on your game console, the home screen is just about your games, no ads to buy more. You open a streaming app, you don't pay extra for no ads, there's just no ads ever.
Think about how much of your time is spent looking at ads. "Download ublock" yeah I know, I have. But that doesn't change that the world is covered with endless advertising. Imagine never seeing that again. How much better our lives would be.
“i can't believe you put all of my shirts in the wash,” katsuki’s voice is a bit muffled as he steps out of the bathroom.
your head perks up from the bed at the sound. “yeah, sorry about that,” you say, though your voice trails off a bit.
you watch him, completely mesmerized, analyzing the way his muscles shift with every single movement as he walks towards the bed. his blonde hair is still a bit wet from the shower, looking as messy and spiky as ever, while a few drops of water slowly roll down the defined ridges of his abs.
“this is the last time i'm letting you do any chore,” he grumbles, his voice thick with annoyance.
his tone forces you to quickly snap out of the trance he’s got you in. “i’m sorry,” you say, though it comes out almost robotic because your eyes are still helplessly glued to his big, squishy chest.
he lets out a scoff. the second he gets close to where you are sitting on the bed, he reaches out and flicks your forehead with his finger.
“at least look in my eyes, you damn pervert,” he grumbles, kicking off his slippers and climbing onto the mattress right next to you.
“who, me?” you fake, putting on your best innocent face as you rub the spot he just flicked on your forehead.
“yeah! you!”
you let out a dramatic sigh. “look, it was just a coincidence that i put aaallll your shirts in the washer at the same time, and now you just happen to have to walk around shirtless.” you pause, shrugging as if it wasn’t a big deal.
“that sounds stupid once you say it out loud, and you know it.”
he just shakes his head, giving you an exasperated look.
“now i feel bad, kats. really, really bad,” you assure him, sliding closer to him. you don't hesitate as you climb right onto his lap, your palms quickly finding his pecs and giving them a soft squeeze.
a sudden silence falls over the room as you just keep squeezing his chest, completely unfazed by the utterly baffled expression spreading across his face. he stares down at you, totally speechless for a second.
“is this helping?” you ask, looking up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.
“hah?! how the fuck would this help me?!” he demands, his voice rising in annoyance — though you notice he doesn't actually push you off.
“well, i’m offering you support? it really looks like you need it,” you say with a bright smile, your palms still comfortably cupping his firm chest.
katsuki doesn’t need much of a fuse to explode, and that cheeky comment is the final straw.
“fuck off, i’m going to get one of your shirts to wear!” he yells, finally pushing you off his lap.
you roll over the mattress with a loud laugh, clutching your stomach.
“kats, no! wait! please!” you scream after him, trying to catch your breath.
“what now?!” he whips around to face you, his shoulders tense and his nerves already completely shot.
there is a brief, tense moment of silence. you look him up and down.
then—
“did you know your chest jiggles when you move around?”
his face flushes red. “that’s it! i’m taking your favorite shirt!”
“not the blue one!!” you shriek, sitting up in a panic.
“yes, the blue one!!!” he roars back, stomping off towards your closet.
The single most useful edit you can do before you send anything to anyone: Read it out loud. The whole thing. Every sentence. You will hear every place the rhythm breaks, every word that doesn't belong, every line of dialogue that no human being would actually say. Your eye skips over problems because it already knows what you meant to write. Your ear doesn't lie. It catches everything. It is embarrassing how much a single read-aloud will fix. Do it alone. Do it in a weird voice if it helps. just do it.
Hello beautiful ppl. My efforts to return to gooning may have to wait till the end of the year. But I drew this Sukuna. I will be at SMASH CON 4i.05 and this will be available as a print
ᝰ.ᐟ studying anatomy is hard, but lucky you, your boyfriend satoru is jacked
the textbook was a weapon, and it was currently winning.
you stared blankly at a diagram of a human torso, the labels blurring into a dizzying soup of latin words. your upper body anatomy quiz was tomorrow morning, and true to form, you were cramming the night before. you hadn't even been at it for an hour, but your brain was already completely fried.
"okay, wait," you muttered to yourself, rubbing your temples. "does the bicep sit higher than the tricep? or is the tricep on top? no that's… wait, where is the brachialis again?"
it was hopeless. you'd look at a muscle, repeat its name five times, look away, and immediately erase it from your memory. with a dramatic groan, you collapsed backward onto your bed, letting the heavy textbook rest precariously on your stomach. you were officially doomed.
the mattress dipped.
a flash of white hair entered your peripheral vision as satoru crawled onto the bed, shifting smoothly until he was hovering over you like a giant, ridiculously attractive cat.
"look at you, absolutely suffering," satoru teased, a sharp, playful grin tugging at his lips. "i can practically hear your brain short-circuiting from over here, babe."
you opened your eyes to glare at him, but the retort died in your throat. because, of course, satoru had decided to wear that shirt tonight. it was a long-sleeved, black compression top that clung to every single line of his frame, highlighting a ridiculously broad chest and sculpted shoulders.
he was just a criminally handsome guy who clearly spent way too much time at the gym. it was completely unfair how he could look that good just from lifting weights while you were drowning in textbooks.
"go away," you wheezed, weakly lifting a hand to push at his face. "you’re a distraction. a highly illegal distraction."
"me? a distraction?" satoru gasped in mock offense. he shifted his weight, dropping down to lie on his stomach next to you. he propped his chin up with his hands, a movement that caused the fabric of his shirt to tauten over the heavy definition of his upper back and shoulders.
your eyes tracked the movement. you blinked once. twice.
wait.
you looked from the textbook diagram of the deltoids and pectorals, then right back to satoru’s very real, very defined body. a sudden, brilliant spark of desperation ignited in your fried brain.
"toru," you said, your tone suddenly dead serious. "take your shirt off."
satoru froze, his smirk faltering into a look of genuine, rare bewilderment. his beautiful blue eyes blinked in confusion. "wh—now? i mean, i love the enthusiasm, babe, but i thought you were failing a class?"
"just do it. for science. for my gpa."
muttering something about how you were terrifying when stressed, satoru crossed his arms and pulled the compression shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor. he sat cross-legged on the bed, presenting a perfect, shirtless canvas of lean muscle.
"alright, i'm naked—well, half-naked. what's the plan, professor?"
you didn’t answer. instead, you lunged off the bed, grabbed a neon green washable expo marker from your desk, and crawled back over to him with a manic look in your eye.
satoru eyed the marker warily. "uh, what is that for?"
"hold still," you commanded, uncapping the marker with your teeth.
you leaned in close, your left hand resting gently on his shoulder for balance while your right hand brought the marker to his skin. satoru tensed for a fraction of a second at the cool, damp touch of the felt tip, but quickly relaxed, watching you with an amused, fond expression as you began to draw.
"okay," you murmured, tracing a neat box right over his chest. "these are the pectoralis major. big chest muscles. easy." you wrote pec major in bold green letters right across his right pectoral.
"wow, using my body as a cheat sheet. i feel objectified. do it more," satoru chuckled, his chest vibrating under your hand.
"shh! i'm concentrating," you chided, moving your marker up to his shoulder. you traced the rounded muscle cap. "deltoid. anterior, lateral, posterior. it's like a shoulder pad." you carefully scribbled deltoid on his shoulder, giving it a little pat.
"and what about these?" satoru asked, flexing his arm slightly, a proud grin on his face.
you stared at his arm, the marker hovering. "ah! the age-old question. bicep is on the front, tricep is on the back. bicep pulls the arm in, tricep extends it." to cement it in your memory, you drew a giant arrow on his inner arm pointing up labeled bicep, and a matching one on the back labeled tricep.
for the next thirty minutes, satoru’s bedroom turned into a live-action, neon-green anatomy lab. you moved around him like a mad scientist, labeling his serratus anterior (the "rib muscles," as you initially called them), his trapezius, and even trying to map out his abs, though you kept getting distracted because his stomach kept twitching from being tickled by the marker.
"stop laughing, toru, i'm trying to find your external obliques!"
"i can't help it! your hands are cold and that marker is tickling the life out of me!" he gasped, squirming away from the green tip.
finally, you stepped back to admire your handiwork. satoru was covered from the waist up in bright green boxes, arrows, and messy anatomical terms. he looked absolutely ridiculous, completely contrasting his runway-model face.
satoru looked down at himself, then glanced in the vanity mirror across the room. he burst out laughing. "i look like a radioactive paint-by-numbers project."
"you look like an a-plus," you corrected proudly, capping the marker. "i actually remember them now. visual learning is a powerful tool."
satoru smiled, leaning forward and wrapping his green-labeled arms around your waist to pull you into his lap. "glad i could be of service to your education. but you know this stuff washes off, right? what are you going to do during the actual quiz tomorrow when you can't look at my chest?"
you hummed, resting your hands against his (now labeled) pectorals. "i'll just close my eyes and visualize my very hot, very heavily graffitied boyfriend."
"perfect," satoru beamed, kissing your forehead. "but if you get a hundred, you owe me a real date. one where you don't use me as school supplies."
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