#i’m sorry :(

[jingyi-ma-boi]

Now I’m thinking that not only is this their ‘oh’ moment, but also that in this exact instant, everything that could have been, the life they could have had passes in front of their eyes. Which is only more painful for them because they both know that alternate universes exist. Sadly, they won’t ever get to see what that would look like. All they have is their own imagined alternate reality for just one fleeting second

when you’ve a panic attack cause you found out & realised that your partner has been in love with you all this time

[justabatfamnerd]

Okay so obviously there’s that whole trope where Tim was like… super traumatized by the titans tower attack and it was sooo terrible blah blah blah but if I can provide a counter point

What if Jason feels like super bad and embarrassed about it (like cmon man you really beat up a 16 yr old while dressed in a dollar store version of his costume?? Dude.) so he keeps trying to make it up to Tim, he gets him lunch, tries to hang out, etc

And Tim just like. Doesn’t remember it happening and is so confused as to why his murderous big brother is being abnormally nice cause let’s be fr the titans tower attack is not even on the list of top 10 worst things that has happened to him

I imagine it going like this:

Jason, holding a gift basket or something: Tim, I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did that, I know that it’ll be hard to make this up to you-

Tim, who’s having his weekly fight with Ra’s and just took fifteen suspicious medications due to his missing spleen: wahg

[averagechickenenjoyer]

The “Wheres my wife” duo

[pepsicolacurtiss]

this is canon cuz i said so

[broken-stars11]

Nobody could string the bow, guys.

Nobody.

[timetravelsong]

𝐈𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐈’𝐦 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭. 𝐈’𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞.

excerpts from a book I’ll never write

[hannaxjo]

This is probably the best fanart I’ve seen of these two, holy shit. The style is so nice and expressive, and the colors are so warm. Even the line art looks so graceful and beautiful. This is like cozying up on a cold winter night. Toothless looks so nice, and so does Hiccup. They’re look so alive. This whole piece looks like Jónsi’s Sticks and Stones makes me feel. Full of life and love.

stay close to me

[saiiibaki]

fast sketch for manwhore au by @anniflamma because it’s hilarious

[brainrotworks]

“Well, I can always count on you for a warm welcome…”

is this too much?

[pisscentral]

uh oh

UH OH

[flowersandbirdsflyingfree]

[messylustt]

the hottest thing a man can do is tilt his head and say ‘yeah?’ —like no need to be a slut, calm down.

[comatosebunny09]

Slow lovemaking in the morning with Sylus.

He’s settling in for bed while you’re waking up. He doesn’t want you to go. Not when you feel so warm and right, curled up against him like this. He abhors the sun. But he won’t deny how it works in your favor, golden sunbeams peering through the curtains to swath you in its ethereal glow.

You get up for a shower, but he won’t have that. He hauls you back into bed by your waist. Tickles you, and you giggle so bewitchingly while you squirm, he’s laughing with you. Two lovers rolling around in the sheets, wishing the moment could last for eons.

You’re too beautiful not to savor. To let go. So, he kisses you. On your temple first, then your cheek, nose. He saves the best for last, diving in for a taste of your lips, and you’re as sweet as sugar here.

He’s addicted. Drags your hips back to notch your pelvis against his, and he groans hoarsely into your mouth at the contact. Grows hard against the cleft of your ass as you languidly grind against him. You know what you’re doing. He’s sleepy, and you’re taking advantage of his weakened defenses. But he’ll bite.

He holds you by the hip, his other set of fingers molded to your jaw, angling your head back so he can watch you—the pretty way your lips purse, how your lashes bow when he slides his cock between your full thighs. They’re still moist from your earlier escapades. From the naughty dreams you must’ve had, and he bites his lip when you moan so pretty for him as the ridge of his cock head bumps your clit. He shudders. God, you’re addicting.

Finally, he sinks into you. And the union is devastating. So much so, he ducks to place his forehead in the hollow of your shoulder. You always feel so good, swallowing him to the hilt like that. So good for him, the shape of you molding to accommodate him and no-one else.

He’s panting. Trying his damnedest to stay still while you adjust to the intrusion. You ruin him. Utter destruction on legs, but he’ll never tell you that aloud. You roll your hips when you’re ready for him. He moves without a second thought.

The sticky glide of your cunt. The obscene squelching sounds it makes when he sluggishly ruts into you. It’s all so much, and yet not enough. His grip on your waist is crucial. He’s holding you in place while he fucks into you from behind, your cute whimpering spurring him on.

Limber fingers wrap around your neck. Apply enough pressure not to cut off wind, but just enough to bring your pulse pounding against his palm. He breathes, hot and ragged, against your hinged-open mouth. The rhythm of his hips quickens. You feel so good. He could die, buried inside you.

He drags his teeth over the space behind your ear. Fucks into you like he’ll never see you again, the clop of skin on skin saturating the air. He eases a hand down the curve of your stomach to find your clit. Rubs it in meticulous circles, chanting obscenities into your ear. Wants you to cum with him, a fizzy feeling pooling in his stomach. You take him so well. Treat him so good. He’d give you the moon and the stars in a hand-basket if he could.

He doesn’t know how long you’ve been at this, fucking like two lazy beasts in heat. Doesn’t care because you’re suddenly quaking around him. Shuddering, his name the sweetest supplication on your lips. He keeps your legs spread, thrusting into you, helping you ride over the cresting waves of your orgasm with a finger in your clit.

You drag him into the whirlpool with you. Over that slurry edge of pleasure, his teeth grit as he floods the warm channel of your sex with gooey globs of white. He pushes into you until he’s too sensitive to move. Doesn’t pull out, even as his cum scorches down the inner cut of your thigh to saturate the sheets.

He wraps virile arms around your waist when you both come down. Moors you to him, nuzzling into the dip of your shoulder with a content smile to his lips.

“Sy,” you laugh, reaching back to drag comforting fingers over his scalp. “I have to get up for work.”

He hums something raspy. Something sleepy, something satisfied. Holds you tighter, murmuring against your ear, sleep toddling in.

“Just five more minutes.”

And, of course, five minutes turn into ten, then twenty. And you’re calling in sick an hour later, because you don’t want to leave the safety of his arms, either.

[lord-vermin]

I made some god awful tramp stamps, I apologise in advance and hope you can forgive me

[sketching-shark]

@bonkalore

chat was this a monsterfucker movie I can't recall