#i need him so bad guys

[eustassslut]

Thinking about Sabo falling in love with a pretty noble. They're everything Sabo hates; rich, spoiled and unaware of their privilege, but he can't help the way his heart skips a beat every time he sees them in public or in the news. Of course it all ends up with him in their bed putting them in their place and punishing them for their spoiled attitude, even if he later gives into their pleas to let them cum.

[ily-cheetah]

studio series sentinel prime looks so cool omg. his design is so beautiful im genuinely nvr going to get over him

[lvrrgirlll]

And what if I said I was gonna take a bite out of him?? What then???

[batcavescolony]

Katniss is such an unreliable narrator. She says "Then something unexpected happens. At least, I don't expect it because I don't think of District 12 as a place that cares about me" girl you deliver strawberries to the Mayor, you hunt and trade for the district, when you fell at Prim being chosen someone caught you, when you went to Prim people parted for you, when you volunteered EVERYONE stopped. Idk how to tell you but I think you're a pillar of the community.

[lotus-pear]

charm stat at debonair ‼️‼️

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

do u think he has a shot

[nymphoniah]

another little thought i had about old man!logan :3

(content/warnings: nsfw, ddlg vibes, reader is in their 20’s)

when you’re walking around with logan, you wouldn’t hold him by the hand, but by his thumb. your hand is tiny enough to wrap around his thumb, and it drives him wild.

“c’mon doll, hold onto me while we cross the street,” logan commands softly, lending out his hand for you to grab.

the finger that leads you around, when you’re doing errands, grocery shopping, walking at the park is the same exact one that brings you weak to your knees.

the same finger that rubs rough circles against your clit, that you suck on when your mouth is feeling empty of his cock. the same finger that he uses to tease your cunt.

“fuckin’ hell,” he hisses out, parting the entrance of your cunt with both of his thumbs, “you’re this soaking wet for your old man, huh?”

he dips one of his thumbs inside, taking in how your cunt absolutely drowns the digit in your arousal. you whimper beneath him, wanting more.

he chuckles at the sight and brings his thumb to his lips cleaning up the mess you made. “my little girl’s so sweet, inside and out,” he coos, making you blush an intense shade of red.

logan dips his thumb one more time back into your cunt, “need you to have a taste, princess,” he whispers into the shell of your ear, “you’re too fuckin’ good for me…”

[littlecrittereli]

It's what they deserve....

Chris hates cuddling but somehow always ends up in the middle...

[theostrophywife]

thinking about theodore nott taking you on holiday at his family’s villa in italy, proudly introducing you to his family as his girlfriend, the love of his life, and his future wife, showing you all his favorite spots in town, taking you out on the boat, lathering you up with sun cream at the beach, feeding you with pasta and pizza and wine, stargazing with him under the night sky, but also bending you over the balcony with one hand clamped down over your mouth to keep you quiet and the other fisting your hair as he fucks you hard and fast, hitting that sweet spot that makes you cry out for more. “such pretty sounds, principessa. I love when you scream my name.” “I know, I know, bella. feels like fucking heaven for me, too.” “you’re taking me so well. such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

[astronnova]

doodles (as i avoid work) of the super awesome you wouldn't like me alive fic by @ectoplasmranch which i binge read in a 7 hour sitting yesterday

[callieisto]

Jason Todd who calls you ‘darling’ and ‘sweet thing’ when he’s mad and is fucking you into the mattress vs Jason Todd who calls you ‘mouse/mousie’ while he’s all up in your guts missionary and is kissing all over your exposed skin. Pick your fighter

[kentofic]

quick zayne x gn!reader makeout scene bc the trailer is making me FERAL. self indulgent and not proofread

Zayne is holding you, kissing you, touching you, consuming you. You can hardly breathe, but you don’t care. You just want more more more—more of this Zayne that’s unkempt, uninhibited, and so fucking hungry for you that it sets every nerve alight with need.

His mouth slots against yours, hot and demanding and urgent, each taste of you feeding the flame of desire that burns in his gut. You gasp out his name, and he swallows it down before licking into the warmth of your mouth, moaning softly like he can’t get enough because he can’t. He slips his tongue against yours, and you suck it in further, tasting peppermint and just him, sweeter than the candy he keeps stashed in his pockets.

Zayne’s grip on your hips tightens, each fingertip bruising into the soft flesh as you suck around the slick muscle of his tongue. The cold edge of his glasses digs into the soft swell of your cheek until he tilts his head, pulling back just slightly to find another angle.

You hear him huff out a desperate, debauched—but also frustrated—breath. You open your eyes to find him, eyes half-lidded and dazed, cheeks glowing with heat, glasses smudged and fogged up and askew on his nose. The glasses must be the great offender, because he rips them off—tossing them aside before drawing you back in, his lips pressing wet, messy kisses down your jaw and neck, until you cry out a “Wait!”

Zayne stops, his momentum only carrying a few more sloppy kisses across your heated skin before he grinds to a halt, panting into the crook of your neck.

“W-What? What’s wrong?” he murmurs, pulling back for a moment, and you feel bad now, seeing how ruined and needy he is—so unlike his usual polished self.

He looks down at you with pleading eyes, trying to be attentive and concerned, trying to hold back the beast that has clawed to the surface of him, but his expression screams: Please please please let me keep going, I need to keep going, I need you, I need you, I—

“Put em back on,” you say, breathless.

He blinks. “Huh?”

You turn and rummage around on his desk, then your hand emerges, triumphant, with the glasses he’d discarded.

You place them back on his nose, and you do a bad job. The glasses are still smudged and even more askew now, and Zayne just stares at you, dumbfounded.

You smile sheepishly, adjusting his glasses until they’re seated correctly.

“…What? I have a thing for the glasses.”

Another beat passes, then Zayne lets out a sound between a laugh and a scoff, pushing his glasses further up his nose.

“Pervert.”

“Wh—”

He silences your offended cry with a kiss. Then another. Then another, then another. He nips at the soft skin of your neck, his glasses scraping across your jaw, and you mewl, your fingers twisting in his hair.

Zayne groans, a gravelly, primal sound as he licks the salt from your skin. He bites down on your shoulder, grinning to himself as you whimper between his teeth. The beast has him now—and he’s all too happy to succumb to it.

—

a/n: i love it when this man goes feral!!! also what if.. the glasses stay on during freaky time 😳😳

[dipperscavern]

thinking about jon snow not knowing what to do when you admire him.

he’s sprawled on his stomach, bare chested & fast asleep, with the blankets covering his lower half. castle black stirs awake as the sun starts to rise, moving to start its ascension into the sky.

the ghost of your fingertips across his spine pull him to consciousness, goosebumps trailing his skin from your touch. he lightly stretches, opening his eyes as his muscles tense & relax once more.

he looks to see you sitting up, a glossed over look in your eyes as your gaze is fixated on his back — the hint of a smile playing on your lips. he’s never been looked at like that before. caressed, admired, as if he was something special.

he can feel the pads of your fingers as they run along his shoulderblades, tracing the ridges & muscles that map the expanse of his back. has he ever felt anything this gentle?

you stop your mapping of his body when you see that he’s awake. he’s not looking at you, though. his eyes are blank, fixated on a distant wall as he focuses on your touch, trying to commit the feeling to memory.

“you’re so pretty, jon.”

he feels his cheeks grow warm, no doubt starting to turn a pretty shade of pink. his entire body grows hot, nerves on fire with the sincerity of your words. jon knows you mean it — you’re no liar. suddenly your gaze is overwhelming, and he feels the need to squirm under it.

you’re evil, he thinks. the worst to ever live. can’t you see what you do to him?

he’s brought out from his thoughts when the warmth of your hand leaves his shoulders, coming to brush his hair out of his face. you tuck the strands behind his ears, the dark curls protesting being moved. jon swallows, looking up at you.

he can see the smile you’re trying to suppress, and he feels his heart swell at the fact the sight of him is enough to make you smile. the knuckle of your finger comes to trace the underside of his jaw, just the way your lips have done countless times before. the thought alone is enough to make him shiver.

you get to the front of his face, the pad of your thumb coming to run along his bottom lip. the same lips that have been all over your body are now at the mercy of your touch, and jon wouldn’t ruin this moment for anything… even if lord commander mormont had returned from the dead & knocked on the door.

jon had tried to be still, truly. he should’ve been given an award for how long he’s held out so far. he can’t help himself, lips moving to kiss the pad of your thumb. they start to descend, trailing down the slope of your hand. he presses a final kiss to the inside of your wrist, before his hand wraps around it and brings it to his cheek. he uses it as a pillow, laying his head down once more & sighing, eyes fluttering shut.

you let the smile break free now, eyes gazing down at your lover, in all his content. jon deserves it all. the gentleness, the warmth, anything that you have to give, you offer to him. he’s been through hell and back, the scars run deep. and you want nothing more than to kiss each and every one, to replace the once horrid memories with the feel of your touch.

you eventually pull away your hand, & jon’s eyes are quick to open. you can almost feel the disapproval radiating off of him, which is quickly replaced with a warm feeling deep in his chest when you reach for his right hand.

you bring it to your lap, eyes fixated on it. both of your hands cradle his larger, calloused one. you run your hands along his, feeling every vein & knuckle under your fingers. his fingers twitch with the need to curl into your smaller ones. jon’s so busy looking at your hands holding his, he at first doesn’t see the way your eyes are closed. you’re mapping him, every part of him with your hands — trying to bury the feeling in a deep part of your mind so you never forget. and once jon realizes that, he’s inclined to never let you go. just keep you here, wrapped in his arms forever. you wouldn’t mind, would you?

once you’re done, sure that you’ve traced every part of him that you can reach, you bring his hand to cradle your cheek, mirroring how jon had done with your own not so long ago. you lean into it, relaxing into his hand.

it’s jon’s turn to smile now. it tugs at the corner of his lips, curving them upwards as his tongue darts out to wet them. is this what love is like? jon thinks it must be. to simply exist & be cherished by someone, to be truly adored & held close.

jon can’t resist the urge anymore. its overwhelming at this point, clouding his mind. he uses the hand on your cheek to pull you closer as he simultaneously pulls himself up, connecting your lips with his. he kisses you long & soft, as he gently moves you to lay down on your back. you’re easy in your compliance, putty in his hands; the one still on your cheek, and the other pressing to your waist as your lips continue to dance with his.

he pulls away, trailing kisses down your neck. your hands find their way to his hair, not pulling, just slotting themselves amongst the curls. once he reaches the end of his descent, he moves to place once more kiss on the underside of your jaw, before laying his head down on your stomach. his arms wrap around your waist as your hands scratch at his scalp in a way that’s divine.

& in the comfort of your arms, jon understands why so little men join the nights watch of their own accord. what is honor compared to a woman's love? what is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms? he understands now, able to fully grasp the concept of never knowing the tenderness of your touch — and it’s not a very pleasant thought.

in the back of his mind he remembers the duties you both have to tend to, but they’ll be fine, he thinks. they can wait.

[monhiio]

Da-ge those look real heavy can I hold them for you??

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Laios's three Boy Best Friends. And yes, they hate him.

[glueoffline]

snap out of it!