#god i want him so bad

[mm-slashing-boy]

I see no difference. Why are you showing the same picture twice? 💛💛

same picture

[hxltic]

Bakugou, whose stamina is unbeatable. Who has just finished fucking you in any place necessary of the bedroom—the bed, the mini-couch, the floor—and still can’t keep his hands off you.

After laying on the bed for rejuvenating moments (at least for him), his large hand slides up your shoulder with a few coaxing kisses.

“Shower,” is all he says, his gruff voice strained and warm breath perceptible against your neck. You just nod weakly and attempt to ignore the mess between your legs.

In fact, he has to carry you to the bathroom. When you’re both in the shower, he still acts as support: your back is to his chest so he bears most of your weight, and his fingers span your lower stomach while you attempt to wash yourself.

You can barely keep your eyes open, so relaxed by the water, but he can see all of you just by where his chin rests on your shoulder. The water and soap sliding past the peaks of your breasts, the souvenirs that you not-so-sternly asked him not to leave on your skin.

Where you rest in front of him, he can’t help but feel aroused all over again, especially rubbing his hands over your supple skin that he couldn’t appreciate the first few rounds, clouded by the roughness you love.

Unable to just watch, he gently spins you around. Your eyes are half-closed, so you pay it no mind. You just continue your slow, leisure washing, completely unaware of the fact that he’s completely hard again, even if you wouldn’t be surprised.

Your eyes open back to reality when he gently takes the loofah from you and hangs it up on the little hook. His muscles casually ripple when he does literally anything, and if you weren’t so attracted to it, you’d be jealous.

“C’mere,” he orders, his voice in that soft tone reserved for you. His hands follow, crossing at your lower back and pulling you toward him even more. The atmosphere is hot and slow with the exhaustion settled into both of you.

You do something of a hum in question, but don’t resist when he leans down and slowly captures your lips in his. Your longing for each other is evident simply in the sigh that follows when you connect.

There’s water dripping everywhere, mostly on you, but the kiss is everything Bakugou usually isn’t: patient, slow, and needy. Actually, no. He was always pretty needy.

“Kat,” you whisper, and he groans in response, stretching his hands up your wet skin until he crosses your ribs, his thumbs move past the side of your breasts, and your arms are naturally guided to his neck.

You weren’t entirely sure what you were asking, to be honest, but you didn’t care. Not when you could feel the length of him pressed against your stomach.

Bakugou moves a few strands of drenched hair back behind your ear, and then strokes the rest at your nape to keep your head up to him. It was admirable, really, how he could be literally twitching in arousal, and still move like it doesn’t bother him at all.

Although, he is getting closer at hinting to it, because somewhere in the heat, your right leg is being lifted to his hip. When you find an escape from his kiss (he doesn’t allow you many), you glance down to what he’s doing.

He interprets your brows slightly furrowing and the low, tired droop of your eyes, already knowing what you’re going to say.

Voice still soft and practically gone even in distress, you begin, “I can’t go another round. There’s no way I’ll—”

“Shh,” he places a kiss on your forehead, then another at your temple. His head dips to lick and kiss in the crook of your neck, and your fingers either run through his wet, blonde hair or span the muscles of his back. He’s completely gone.

The left hand that upholds your leg starts to massage your thigh and inch up to your ass. “I talk to this pretty pussy almost every night, and you don’t think I know what you can handle?”

A whimper leaves your mouth and your hold tightens around him. Despite your lower body being completely stretched and at ease, he can still feel the tension elsewhere.

He continues, his voice dripping with reassurance, “Slide it in yourself. Then you tell me how it feels.”

And after a few moments and a sigh, you carefully reach down and wrap your fingers around him the best you can. You can feel him react to the movement alone, and with a prayer, you guide his head right to your entrance so you can sink when you’re ready.

When you descend, an immediate whine feels the air. He still fit perfectly from earlier and the sensitivity had tripled.

“Fuck,” you curse, wrapping yourself around him again. He holds you close.

“Feel good?”

You nod, and he throbs inside at the same time. He kisses you again, making sure to uphold you through your fatigue. Helping those in need was his job after all.

His right hand that covers your lower back loosens so that your weight inches backwards, then it pulls you right back in until you’re pressed against each other.

He groans with pleasure. The vibrations move to your lips that kiss him like he’s the last man on Earth.

And then he does it again, and again, until your head is simply resting on your own shoulder with your arms encircling his neck, water rushing down your hair and back. Your eyes are completely closed as he cradles you, erotic whines, whimpers, and moans falling from your lips into his ear.

Your slick walls drag up and down his skin. He moves so easily in and out that he can feel the outline of where his head usually reaches—the little space left. He was nowhere near as deep right now, but he is sure with the slight bend of his knees, he could have you screaming how you were for the hours before this.

And funnily enough, he doesn’t want you screaming at the moment. It’s something previous Bakugou would never say; not rock hard and needing to be balls deep in you quick Bakugou, at least.

You were worn out and tired, your body unable to take his usual pace. He’s almost 90% sure if he lifted you off the ground, you’d comply and hold on tighter, but he’s not going to push you that far. Not when he’s content like this, caressing your beautiful, dripping figure as you cry his name.

“Mmghn, that feels s-so good.” You speak, just above a whisper. And somehow, he can still hear you over the water and small splash of you both meeting in the middle. It’s like his brain is wired. No matter what, he’ll always be able to hear you.

He nods and kisses the side of your head again, keeping stable and consistently moving with minimal effort. The underside of your right knee is now resting in his elbow, so his hand can hold your waist and pull most of your weight that way instead of trying to push your whole body with just your thigh. At some point, you began helping him out.

“Keep moving your hips just like that, I got you.”

You groan at the instruction, and he chuckles heartily. Love poured from him and into you, making you feel more safe and secure than ever.

It didn’t take long until warmth gathered in your core with your clit dragging back and forth along his cock. He occasionally grunts and has to fix position to keep himself from spilling inside, not before you do first.

He can’t explain the relief he has when you insist that you’re gonna come soon in the form of a warning. It builds with each “thrust” and being so close to him as he carries you to climax.

“I’mna come,” you say again, more rushed this time, but muffled by his shoulder.

“I can feel it.” He responds, keeping pace. “Do you know what it feels like having you pulsing around me? Knowing you’re going straight into your sleep after?”

You shake your head.

“Hell, baby. Hell.”

And he wouldn’t have it any other way: the only option you have on sleepless nights being him. When you tap his shoulder or rub yourself against him, knowing he’ll never say no. Hope could he? He takes great pride in being your melatonin.

And, without fail, you fall into a perfect deep sleep, his cum still dripping into or out of you. It’s never there in the morning, and he loves that the only way it will happen is if he wears you out.

“Kattt…” You toss your head back, a low rumble in your throat that you only make when you’re on the verge of completely losing it. He attacks your neck again, letting your body naturally bounce off him and come back.

“Let yourself feel it. Let me take you there,” he encourages gruffly, nipping at your ear.

“Agh, fuck,” you nearly sob, digging yourself further into him somehow.

His eyes shut, a wave of clarity rushing over him. It’s you, his woman, his everything, needing him. He thought he knew what he wanted early in life. He knew he wanted to be desired by others in multiple ways, the best at everything. God, how wrong he was.

Now he wants to be the best at everything for you. Because you deserve nothing less. He doesn’t want to be desired by anyone else but you, because you carry all the validation he could possibly gain dopamine from. Nothing compares to you being completely and utterly dependent on him, clinging to him for dear life.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he spouts, not bothering to stop or care about being sappy. He loves to hear you whine in response, only to finally come up with a few words. Clearly you got the cheesy feeling too.

“L-Love you, Kats.”

He bushels the hair at the bottom of your head with a grunt, tilting your nose up to him. He lets his lips kiss you passionately first, then he pulls away, but obviously not too far since you’re still nose to nose. Your eyebrows are upturned in that sensual expression he loves.

His deep, crimson eyes flicker to your puffy lips, a sign of the night, and land on your pretty damp eyelashes. He was breathless and stern.

“Don’t look away. Keep your eyes on me, or I’ll stop.”

You blink, registering his words with the shake of your head. “Don’t stop,” you plead.

He calls your name, and it’s enough to know he’s being dead serious. Both his grips tighten, mainly the one in your hair, and you don’t know if it’s water dripping down your cheeks or a tear or two.

You can feel your bottom leg beginning to shake, and the heat get to your head.

You shut your eyes instinctively, “K—”

“I’ve got you, don’t even think about it. Look at me.”

Your eyes shoot open in remembrance of his words as he leaves and reenters you again with increased speed, the sound when you slap together even louder. He holds your head in place. “I love you more, baby. More than you can ever dream.”

You watch his eyes and they say everything you can’t, everything he can’t, and that alone is enough to send you over the edge.

Your jaw drops and you literally begin shaking, not caring that all the strength you had left went into your orgasm. Your head pounds with the stream of the shower and fatigue, and your hands begin to slip at his neck, but you don’t even care. You know he’s got you. He said it himself.

“Shit,” he hisses, your orgasm expected, but the power of it not. He almost missed the fact that you were gushing around him by mistaking it as the water, the countless times you’d done this before catching up to you. He keeps thrusting his hips forward and whispering you praises. “Atta fuckin’ girl.”

You are sobbing now, real tears as he stills and twitches inside. He holds the promise he made to you since you did the same. He keeps his eyes focused on you, even as white spurts paint your insides, and puts his swollen lips on yours. Through your gasps, you couldn’t kiss him back, so he bites your bottom one instead.

It isn’t until you lose your footing and go limp against him that he bends to pick you up and lower your leg gently. You’re still jerking slightly, your muscles overworked, and the last of his release lands somewhere on your thighs as your back is arched away from him.

Before you can say anything or even think about it, he holds you upright and bends down to kiss you with all he has left, now that you’re somewhat here. When it’s over, you fall against him completely.

The rest is a blur, and the next time you know what’s happening, you’re tangled together in the unused guest bedroom.

©️ hxltic

[itssofuckingover]

love that he wears the question marks because hes doctor who and that’s the name of the show and ooo wee ooo or whatever but like. Obviously. this implies that for some reason he does internally refer to himself as doctor who and the question marks are his stupid reference to something he made up in his head. like a dork.

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

One of my favorite scenes of any of his films...

Vincent Price - Diary of a Madman (1963)

[lucifers-mourning]

John Doe sketch, for the soul

[parkjammys]

always thinking about nick robles version of Jason Todd

[elexaria]

thinking abt simon riley’s big slutty thighs and calves just being OUT whenever he walks around the house in his boxers. all stocky and thick with hair omfg. and YES he has bunda for days LOL, hes packing a whole bakery for an ass.

and the MAN TITS oh lord, he’s got his dog tags nestled in the small patch of blonde chest hair that spreads out across the valley between his chest muscles. sometimes the ball chain catches on some hair and it makes him jolt and hiss, and everyone around him is like ?? so he’ll say something like “soz, got a … cramp”

he���s not insecure about the scars below the right side of his rib cage, they’re silver and thick but his chest muscles are in the way so its kinda out of sight out of mind unless he stares at himself in the mirror. which he doesnt do, he doesn’t really care all too much about eye fucking himself unlike some people (ahem ahem johnny)

[corrodedaffairs]

Why is nobody talking about Fred Hechinger being a camp counselor in a SLASHER movie. I saw that stupid smile and his dorky little camp counselor outfit and I was a goner.

[aerivina]

HELP? EXCUSE ME? oh i shall help you unbutton your clothes good sir🤭🤭🤭 (He's like a tired dad who's taking care of mephistus lol)

[onthr-dream]

Character: Zayne x fem!reader, a daughter named D/n

Tw: none

Notes: I was thinking so hard about Zayne's daughter

Your daughter, D/n, has been a little fussy since her dad decided to leave her alone (read: gone to work). And you've been trying your best to calm her down, whether bribing her with foods or toys or some extra TV time. Your last straw was when she decided to wail even harder after seeing your phone lockscreen. It was a photo of Zayne holding baby D/n on his arms and he's gazing at her so lovingly.

Well then, let's just visit him, he won't mind, right? If you're not wrong, he doesn't have any surgery today, but he might if he has any emergency... well, it'd be worth a shot. You send a message to Dr. Greyson to ask him about Zayne, and he said that he's free right now, so let's go!

"Hey, D/n, wanna visit dada at work?" I ask D/n, kneeling down near her. "You miss him, huh? Mommy miss him too, and I'm sure dada missed you too. So, let's meet him?"

D/n's sobs stops and she looks at you, eyes swollen and pouty lips, nodding at your word before asking to be picked up. You quickly picked her up and went to her bedroom to get her ready to meet her dad.

You and D/n arrived at Akso Hospital and ask the receptionist about Zayne. Luckily, they know you already and allowed you to go to Zayne's office. You took off D/n's little bucket hat and walked down the corridor with a few people greeting you here and there, knowing you're Dr. Zayne's wife.

Arriving in front of Zayne's office, you knocked on the door and no answer was heard. You knocked again. Instead, you hear an answer with a familiar voice from behind you, it's him!

"Hello, love, what do I owe you for this lovely visit?" Zayne gazes lovingly at you before redirecting his gaze into your daughter and holding her tiny hand. "Well, this little princess here misses you. Been crying since you left and I think I'll just take her to you. Say hi to papa" I touched her chubby cheek. She let out a cute little hi with a toothless smile that I swear nearly killed Zayne on the spot. "Come inside then, my princesses" Zayne said as he opened the door for you both.

You and D/n spent a little more time inside eating lunch and played together. Until she let out a little yawn that alarmed you and Zayne for a nap time for the baby. Zayne gently picked her up and rock her to sleep while telling his wife to rest up a little. But the sight in front of you is so endearing to the point that you have to sneak a little photo with your phone and set it as your homescreen photo.

[machveil]

Let me cook

Konig that loves contact but in unconventional ways

Hugs are nice, sure. But he'll take being pressed fully against his liebling any day, no matter how much they complain they can't breath.

Sitting on his lap? Sure, but also overwhelming. He's just as happy to sling your legs over his thighs and hold one of your calves like carrying a sniper rifle.

You do wake up curled with him, but he's also eating your hair.

So one day you hold out your hand, expecting him to hold hands. Only to find he brings it under his shroud and leans his face into it. You can see the fabric puffing and feel the warm breaths as he huffs in your smell. he likes it bc it grounds him, bringing your presence and scent underneath his mask - in his own comfort zone - without having to remove it.

So it becomes tradition.

You can even distract him from things bc the second you lift your hand high enough that he realizes it's face height he just has to follow through. Thems the rules. He might even continue his conversation without a hitch, all the while rubbing his scratchy cheeks into your palm

(wouldn't actually occur bc pda, but let's imagine:) New recruits watch the colonel that they're kind of sure is half yeti storm across the room and pity the poor person at the end of his wrath, only to watch as he immediately halts before running you over and leans into your already outstretched hand like a dog

I can’t even add on to this because you’ve blue screened my brain

the way I laughed so hard at him eating your hair— I don’t think I could even be mad at him. AND PRETENDING YOUR LEG IS A RIFLE???? OUGH, I need him [sobbing] he’s so lame, god, give me ten (10)

[maleposting]

(artist is @/idonotexist_222 on twitter)

[hxltic]

Matsukawa has the nastiest deepstroke and nobody can tell me otherwise. Especially front. He curls his hips just right to make that fat tip hit the perfect bundle of nerves inside you. He whispers to you in missionary, one large hand hooked under your leg and the other rubbing your forehead and holding his weight. He makes you look at him, which would be so funny with how lovey dovey he gets when the squelch of your pussy echos in the background, and you’d laugh if all your energy wasn’t clenching your toes. It’s a slow pace, speeding up to about a medium every now and then, but it’s so constant it feels like it’ll never stop. Though you are in heaven and the only thing you can see is the blur of his face.

When you can’t look at him, if holding your head up is too much, he’ll grab your hair and tip your head back to tilt your chin up to him. He may let closing your eyes for a bit slide.

The moment is still in all the world—just you and his words as you let him drag you through your orgasm. Faint yes’s and head nods tell him you can still somewhat function.

“That feel good?”

“Yeah? I know how to take care of this pretty pussy.”

“Fuuuck. You just gonna clamp down on me like that?”

“Pussy’s a mess. So fucking wet.”

He doesn’t even need to roll your clit like he usually does. Him hitting the spot repeatedly is enough to get you to squirt. Proven the last time you came.

Mattsun says he has to take care of his girls.

[mel-tallica-022]

I'm down SO BAD for this man in ALL of his eras

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price and Gene Tierney //

Laura (1944)

[angelicrosee]

These close ups r going to make me explode