#feeling pouty :

[misty1111]

I’m feeling annoyed because my head mates want to rest and take a nap but I’m tired of resting and want to play Far Cry: Primal. I’m going to respect their wishes and rest but it’s times like this where sharing a body is very frustrating.

They just assured me that we’ll play Far Cry after we get up.

I guess that’s alright.

Still feeling pouty about it.

[zuzu-draws]

King of Pouts and Grumps, Ladies and Gentlemen! /(.^.)\ ~ <3

[musubiki]

its been a while since my last summer mochi 🌺🏖️

[buttahpie]

stupid fucking paul always has to be out serving them like ???? girl why are you treating this like ANTM and not a school portrait you dramatic little freak?

[mouthfxllofwhiteliess]

✨✨✨✨Just a pixie in the dark ✨✨✨✨

[danandfuckingjonlmao]

“awww watching them drinking boba together was so 🥰🥹😍🤗” no stfu i’m so mad bc why would they make me watch them drink boba when i don’t have any. who would do something so despicable to a poor little homosexual like me. do they not care that i suffer at their hands?? i thought they loved lesbians?? must they really sit in the phouse that i help fund and sip on their boba while i sit here, boba-less and full of envy?? it’s like that bible verse that goes “thou shan’t drink boba in front of your army of lesbians unless you buy some for every single one of them as well you fucking whores” i think it was in the book of sappho or sommit

[souenkun]

Roughly-done manga and anime comparison for yorishima's debut! ✨️

[chewytran]

“don’t worry, i’ll keep you warm!”

happy holidays everyone! ❄️❤️✨🌲

[trappedinafantasy37]

Minthara: If you annoy me, I will scratch out your eyes. If you ever think of hurting me, I will pluck the thought out of your mind. I will not hesitate to rip your heart out of your ribcage. If you ever dare share your bed with another, eh heh heh, I will cut you where it hurts and ensure you can never experience pleasure again.

Also Minthara:

[paracosm-draw]

My friend (or what I thought was my friend) told me Anakin is ugly 😐

Reminder that we talk about this angel face

My darling boy is not ugly 😔

[raikirikiri]

pathetic tboy kakashi who is so horny every time obito is around that he can barely stop himself from humping obito’s leg like a dog and obito who is all cool, confident, and demeaning when it comes to horny kakashi in his head is actually screaming “YIPPEE YIPPEE! KAKASHI LIKE LIKES ME” despite kakashi literally having no other setting other than wanting obito carnally and loving it when obito is mean to him.

[hotluncheddie]

omg I didn't realize you wanted chubby steddie asks 🙈

as much as we love the babygirlification of Steve Harrington..... I'm obsessed with boyish manly Steve who is chubby and Eddie is obsessed with him!!!! I'm thinking about your one fic with the sweaty tank top!!!!! do you have more thoughts on this??

yesssssss!!! anon yes yesssssssss!!!!!

not me being like 'yeah! sweaty task top fic nice nice' then realising i have like three different posts that have Steve in a sweaty tank top lol

thankfully @scoops-aboy86 came in clutch with a new tank top sciario <3 (and held my hand thru writing the end lmao ty pal)

but i just love an ex jock trope, i love bulk under muscle and i think big beefy hairy guys are hot - and Steve harrington deserves to be all of that, and more

and also, importantly, eddie munson deserves to have all of that too, in and around him, all the time, in the form of Steve Harrington.

-

Eddie had come to accept the wealth of things he could be into, the actual buffet of people and scenarios that could get his dick hard. He's had more than his fair share of knuckle biting orgasms over the ex chief of police Jim Hopper. Before and, maybe worse, after getting to know him.

So he knew what it was to have something of a shame wank. To enjoy a moustache or two and a paunch at a middle.

But nothing, no deep seated daddy issues or fantasy of being held down, could ever prepare him for Steve Harrington.

Post upside down, post eventual college and transition to work. Post two bed apartment with Robin, then two bed apartment with Robin and Eddie. Then actual full blow house with Eddie, and more often than not weekend guest Robin. Dating Steve for as long as has was one thing, loving Steve with everything he had was another, and being loved by Steve was something he still had nights of panic about - silent tears as fear and self doubt gripped his throat, nightmares about it all being an elaborate prank that sneak their way in even with Steves arms wrapped tight around his middle.

but Eddie had him.

Was allowed to love him, and worship Steve for all that he was worth. It was wonderful. Eddie knew that.

But it had its challenges. Nothing past Eddie could've done would help current Eddie for what he was in for.

Like how Steve had bulked up over the years, settled and filled out in a way that made those visions of Hopper, and guys from bars he really shouldn't have been at, all come surging back.

Steve was thick, and strong and still so achingly beautiful. Boyish in his actions at times but also protective and capable in a way that made Eddie swoon. Honest to god. Made him feel like a main character in one of those bodice ripper books he had seen (taken out and read) at the library.

And then Steve made it worse.

So so so much worse.

Because Steve went and got a tattoo.

Well, another tattoo. He added roses to go along with the robin and branch on his arm, adding to its greenery with red petals and thorns that Eddie knew were secretly for him. He’d said, offhandedly, that they were his favourite and he knows, because he knows Steve, that thats something he'd listen to and remember.

He’s a die hard romantic.

And now Eddie is going to die, hard.

Soon, if Steve doesn't put a proper fucking shirt on.

Steves been wearing his stupid, old, cropped, white tank top since the appointment. He's "letting the tattoo breathe", "doesn't like the feeling of the healing skin against the fabric", "wants to do it properly". "hates Eddie and wants him to die of hard dick, big-fat-ball disease."

He glares at Steve from the other end of the couch, and maybe only three of those things are something Steve's actually said, but, he thought them. All of them. Must have.

Because Steve's tank is so old it's nearly see through, the peak of his pink nipple evident and distracting. The cropped end keeps rolling up and exposing his wider bellybutton and soft sides. And, as always, with any tank top, with any tank top on Steve, hit tits are there - hairy and lovely and out.

'Steve, please.' Eddie whines, he doesn't think he can take much more.

Steve just raises his eyebrows, taking a swig of beer and not looking away from the tv. 'If I sweat too much, it'll mess with the healing.' He says.

Eddie just crosses his arms, sinks lower into the couch. ‘Can you put on a normal shirt at least? For my sanity, for that alone, please?' Not wanting to sound desperate, but he is desperate.

Steve sighs, muting the TV. 'C'mere.' He holds his arms out and Eddie crawls into his lap. Still sulking, arms still crossed. ‘Eddie, you’re the one who gave me the tattoo. I’m following your instructions.’ Steve says gently.

‘M’firing Robin for getting you to sign the info form.’ He grumbles.

Steve smiles at him, tucking some hair behind his ears. ‘You can’t fire her for doing her job baby.’

‘Maybe not’ Eddie sniffs. ‘But I’m not sharing my baby blue ink with her next time she gets one of her slutty little lady sailor pin ups booked in.’ He mumbles to himself.

Steve pulls Eddie in closer, hands on his waist as he leans in to whisper in Eddies ear. 'Aren't I being so good though? Following what you said, no strenuous activity for two days right?' His voice a little breathy, soft.

And that makes Eddie pause, makes his insides churn and his heart rate increase. 'Ye-yeah.' He rasps, eyes wide. 'So good Stevie.'

'So we have to wait until tomorrow, like you said, yeah?' Steve asks, eyes all big and sweet, lips in a little pouty.

Fuck. He's right. Eddie dug his own grave.

'Yeah.' He sighs. He can do it, for Steve.

Steve smiles sweetly at him, tapping Eddie on the ass and shifting him closer so Steve can unmute the tv and keep watching his game. 'Good boy.' Steve says, kissing Eddies temple.

…Wait. Eddie scrunches his eyebrows, half hard and confused.

But Steve just holds him closer. Eddie buries his head in Steve's neck, and whines.

[karlyboyyy]

Halloween party! 🎃👻🖤

[wormholy]

going nowhere and everywhere

[subtle-as-an-earthquake]

don't mind me i'm just going completely insane over this

[djarinova]

written on your upper thigh — rafayel

˗ˏ✎ synopsis: - what is he painting on your leg... and are you going to have the patience to wait him to finish when he's planting kisses on your skin and touching you oh so delicately?

˗ˏcontent - gn (reader wears a skirt), painting, kissing, making out, reader is blindfolded, reader has freckles + small scars on their leg - divider by @/saradika

˗ˏwc - 1860

“C’mon, Raf, it's been like 20 minutes, can I please take this blindfold off now?”

You hear him scoff, “I can't believe that after all this time you still think it's possible to rush me towards completion with a deadline.”

Underneath the blindfold—which is a dark, and suspiciously well looked after, piece of silk material—you roll your eyes. There's a soft clink in the background and you hear water splash against the side of the cup that sits on the table next to you.

“Are you seriously cleaning your brush again?” You huff. “How many colours are you using? Promise me you haven't painted an entire landscape on the side of my leg…”

Rafayel laughs, a soft sound that flows between the two of you and settles somewhere deep in your chest. The fingers of his free hand dance delicately across the bare flesh of your thigh—he had insisted that you needed to be clothes free below the waist for this particular activity, but you'd persuaded him against that choice with a flutter of your eyelashes and the reminder that there are other people (namely Thomas) that may appear in his home without any notice. The short lilac skirt you were wearing also helped your case a little…

“I promise.”

“...Yes?” You urge him to continue.

He suspends his hand palm down in the air, as if making an oath. “I promise I have not painted an entire landscape on the side of your leg.” He repeats, in a solemn voice.

You nod your head, satisfied.

“Will you just tell me what you're doing already! I'm getting anxious.” You whine.

The brush tickles your skin and a small giggle escapes your lips. You try not to shift too much in your seat, lest Rafayel scold you again.

“It's like you don't trust me at all.” He pouts, he exaggerates his point by sticking his bottom lip out, somehow forgetting that you can't see him. “If you missed seeing my face that much then you could just say so out right, there's no need to beat around the bush this much.”

The urge to roll your eyes resurfaces and you're about to speak out in your defense when the brush comes into contact with your skin again. You yelp in surprise, the water droplets from the bristles are cold, and Rafayel chastises you absentmindedly.

“And if you missed kissing me that much then maybe you should hurry up and finish painting me already.” You tease in return, the double meaning of your words not even crossing your mind.

Rafayel says nothing, but you hear him scoff quietly as if he disagrees with your words. His brush strokes tell a different story though, they seem to gain momentum rather suddenly and he begins to work much quicker than he was only a few moments ago.

You feel his breath fan against your leg and your cheeks heat up when he presses a gentle kiss upon your skin. Even knowing that he isn't looking at your face doesn't help to quell the thoughts that churn through your mind. Knowing that he's been working on you for the best part of an hour now, the thrill of being unable to see when or where he's going to be touching you next with the paintbrush… It makes you giddy. He's so meticulous with how he works on his art, you never get bored of the sight, but this secretiveness is far more exciting than you had expected when he suggested it.

He kisses your thigh again, slightly higher than before, and you have to swallow a whine that threatens to escape you. His lips are feather-light on your skin, almost tickling you with how delicate they are. Your brain is foggy with want and you feel your leg bounce minutely, like it's itching to move closer to him.

The noise of your thumping heart is all you can hear, you're so distracted that you fail to notice the shifting of Rafayel’s movements until he's pressed against your side on the sofa.

“Are you ready?” He whispers, his breath is warm on the shell of your ear. It makes your stomach flip.

You gulp, nodding slowly as shivers run down your spine. You think he might not have seen your reply and you're about to speak when you feel his hands fiddling with the knot at the back of your head. One end of the material flutters down over your chest, the other is held securely in Rafayel's hand.

You waste no time trying to adjust to the light that now floods your vision, instead your eyes flit wildly around the scene in front of you, trying to find the lips that you long to feel against your own. You get impatient with yourself before even 2 seconds have passed. The sunlight almost blinds you as you turn your head to the left. Rafayel's hands perched on his lap pass by you in a blur as you spin towards him. You screw your eyes shut and blindly make a move towards where you think his head is, too desperate, too eager, too hungry to bother looking properly. No thoughts cross your mind apart from the need to have his lips on yours. You're so caught up in your actions that you somehow completely forget about–

“Hey! Careful of my work! You almost smudged it off without even looking at it first!” Rafayel cries.

You freeze in your tracks and slowly open your eyes. You're halfway between sitting and straddling Rafayel's lap, your hands are balled into fists and they hold tightly onto his shirt material. The fabric is soft between your fingers.

“I–uh… Well–” You hesitate, before slowly moving away from Rafayel's sturdy thighs and planting yourself back on the sofa. Heat floods your cheeks, pressing a hand towards your face to hide your embarrassment you quickly turn your head away from his prying eyes and look down at the painting that has been keeping you still for so long.

“It's–”

“Beautiful, I know.”

You roll your eyes, but don't disagree. It is beautiful.

On your thigh, no bigger than a finger's length, sits an elegantly painted letter ‘R’. Its ends are curved and, as if following lazy brush strokes, they flick upwards ever so slightly. The circular part of the letter is so precise in how it curves along your skin, the movements of the letter outline seem to line perfectly with the freckles and small scars from hunting that adorn your skin. It's golden in colour, but the longer you look at it the more your eyes are able to pick up all of the hints of the other hues. There's small traces of orange hidden beneath the gold, with blue highlights along the curve and specks of lavender dotted around the edges like stars in the night sky.

You swallow your emotions, tears threaten to fall from your eyes and as you spin in your seat you feel the droplets pooling along your lashes. Before you have a chance to think about what to say Rafayel is pressing his lips against yours. He hums against you and you feel his hands slide around your waist before they sneak under your shirt and settle on the hem of your skirt. There's something different about the way he's kissing you, it's hungry and fast and he's deepening the kiss hurriedly in an effort to keep you close to him. Your hands knot in his hair, the soft strands tickle your skin. Something digs into your upper thigh, and you're about to open your eyes to check what it is when you feel Rafayel’s hands gripping the flesh of your ass. Your eyes fly open as he flips you onto your back and your hands search the air looking for purchase on his shirt. As you hum against his lips once more there is a faint ‘click’ noise in the background and before you have the chance to register the sound the front door is flung open.

“Hello?” Thomas whisper-shouts in the entryway.

Rafayel groans as your hands push against his chest haphazardly.

“C’mon—Rafayel—we have to—seriously—we have to move, quickly! C'mon, baby!” You mumble against his lips.

He sighs, but relents to your pushing. You manage to sit up and straighten your clothes just as Thomas enters the living room. You hope you don't look as thrown about as you feel.

“I was just coming over because I was certain that you'd forget–Oh!” His cheeks flood with warmth, and he stops dead in his tracks once he notices your embarrassed state and the air of Rafayel's oh-so-nonchalant attitude (and if he sees the mismatched buttons of Rafayel's shirt, and the dishevelled mess of your hair, he's polite enough not to draw any attention to it).

“Oh, right. You wanted to–”

“You promised me the week off and I was just coming over to remind you that today is Friday.” Thomas interrupts, “That means for the next seven days I will be unreachable to you, okay?” He directs his next question to you. “Please, please, please can you watch over him this week? You know how his schedule is and the only way for me to get any peace of mind is if I know you won't let him ignore his responsibilities this week.”

You nod confidently, if there's one thing Thomas can rely on you for, it's keeping Rafayel in check.

You smile widely. “Have a lovely and restful time, Thomas. See you next week.”

He waves to the two of you, Rafayel just huffs and crosses his arms in his seat as you promise to make him behave this week.

The door clicks once again and you hear the sound of Thomas's car pulling out of the drive. You sigh, somehow getting interrupted by Thomas has you feeling like a school kid who got caught cheating on a test. Your cheeks are hot and your pulse is quickened—and it's not for the same reason as it was before…

“You're really going to make me go to all those events and meetings that Thomas promised I would attend this week?” Rafayel pouts.

You turn to look at him. “Of course I am! I gave him my word. And don't even think about trying to run away, I know where all your hiding spots are.”

Rafayel huffs, his eyebrows furrowed together as if deep in thought.

“You think you know where all my hiding spots are…” He whispers.

You fake a shocked gasp, and shove his side lightly while laughing.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night.” You tease.

Now it's his turn to gasp. He turns his head away from you dramatically and crosses his legs so his entire body is angled away from you, leaving just enough room for you to slide yourself behind him and wrap your legs around his waist.

“Your painting really is beautiful, you know.” You whisper against his ear and you feel him shudder against you.

“Thank you.” He whispers in return. His hands now preoccupied with tracing the outline of the ‘R’ that sits entrancingly on your thigh.