#ily !!!!

[clownngrl]

happy new year 🫶🏻

[lilsilly1]

Daily Luigi!

Today it ain't my drawing but my bestie's! @sanoux ! She drew it for ma borthday and didn't mind if I posted it so there ya go :0!

I exploded when she gave it to me, I was so hapi! and I still am HEHE <3

ILY POOKIE!

456 days left before Mario movie

[ikarus-im-weltall]

post fallout

[doppy-enjo]

Like to charge, reblog to cast

[tommyssupercoolblog]

:0000 🥺😻😍✨ wowoaaOwssw thank u

㋡🥀

[mynxiez]

are u worthy?

[t4t4ever]

@queerpunk-kitten

Scary dom girls deserve to be the little spoon

[foxy-alien]

Mercymorn wip

[damicxyy]

nagi is literally ice bear!

[morbidpaintz]

yeah they gay keep strolling

Sable and Mikaela has been rotting a small part of my brain lately and i welcome it

[wavesofyears]

DOMESTIC ZAUNDADS, SAVE US!!!

a comic on how they got together in good au. hc that coparenting started after vi’s death and this takes place many years down the line on a random day around 1-2 years before ep7

[ervotica]

i just saw someone talk about pornstar!patrick and my third eye opened up

shut up i’ll die actually

warnings; smut, 18+, fem!reader, pornstar!patrick, p in v sex, allusions to reader being eaten out, patrick is hot <3

a/n; i’m insane for this actually. pls send more pornstar!patrick asks i’ll beg for them 🥹

this is him <3

thinking of a self made pornstar!patrick, started off making solo videos of him jerking off in the dirty backseat of his car. utterly surprised when viewers couldn’t get enough of him and he earned enough money to make a living off of making porn of himself.

he starts inviting other men, women - anyone who shows interest in him and his videos - to shoot with him, and soon he has a plethora of people lining up for a chance to fuck him, even if it’s on camera.

he bypasses the entire queue when he catches wind of you, a soft little thing with a mean streak he so desperately wants to explore, and he’s running straight to your messages to set a date.

he pays for your transport and your stay — a five star hotel that is far more expensive than anywhere you’ve been in your entire life.

it doesn’t feel orchestrated when the camera starts filming. it doesn’t feel like an act as he works you up with his hot breath over your cunt and two thick fingers that sink into your weeping hole. it doesn’t feel fake when you bury your fingers into his hair and tug, relishing in the way he moans and ruts his hips into the plush bed beneath you.

and it certainly doesn’t feel fake when he makes you cum harder than you ever have before.

his viewers all envy you, want to be you, when he folds your legs to your chest and feeds you his cock inch by inch. it’s a tight fit, that’s for sure, but you’ve never felt more full, more stretched in your life, and you fucking love it.

the way the head of his cock, a visceral red, notches against your entrance as he sinks in in in, further than you thought possible until the weeping slit burrows against your cervix, the way you keen and clutch at his shoulders as he murmurs praises because you’re being so good, baby, just a little more now.

he’s barely one thrust in before you’re cumming around him with a shudder and a cry, and it’s stronger than anything you’ve ever felt in your life, so easy the way he takes you apart because he’s already memorised your cunt, already knows how to fuck it.

and he’s hooking his arms beneath the dip of your spine, dragging you up to meet his hot mouth in a greedy kiss, all tongues and teeth and fire and passion, and that paired with the way he’s fucking you - the filthy roll of his hips that never slows, never stops - is enough to have you cumming round him again.

he fucks like he’s in love with you and he hates you all at once, spears you open on his cock and keeps you spread out beneath him, teases and taunts until you growl with frustration and claw at him. it makes him laugh, a low, gravelly sound against your lips as he concedes and pistons his hips into you with more fervour than before.

once you’re well and truly fucked out, you crawl between his legs and wrap your mouth around him, and he’s sure he meets god.

and then the camera comes off, and a switch flips in him as he watches you laying on the bed, breathing heavily, eyes closed, a sleepy smile on your face.

patrick zweig might just be in love.

the video skyrockets in views and profits, climbing straight to the most popular he’s ever made. viewers beg him to keep you as a permanent fixture within his channel. and, well, who would he be if he didn’t give the people what they want?

-

challengers taglist; @diorrfairy @igotmajordaddyissues @xotwod-jade @imbabycowboy @cloudnitee @hobocatton

[cupidscrule]

[meru90]

head full of kaveh <3

[theysaywhatasadsight]

Wow ari getting so autobiographical are we

cold hands in warm hands + hand kisses with my beloved bucky

Warnings: swearing, snow??

A/N: I see that you all like those grumpy x grumpy assholes. well here have some more of them

All it takes is one bad decision, and now the two of you are stuck in what has to be a walk-in freezer. Or maybe Siberia. Either way, it’s cold enough to regret every choice you’ve made today.

"You're not getting my jacket."

"Don't need it."

"Glasses are mine too."

"Don't need that either "

"Not givi--"

"I don't need your stuff," Bucky interrupts, rubbing a hand over his face. "I'm fine."

You’re too cold to argue, so instead, you stomp off to the corner of the freezer to rummage through empty boxes, hoping to find something remotely helpful. Nothing. Just the sound of Bucky’s boots crunching in the snow behind you, breathing down your neck like some clingy demon.

"You’re really looking for gloves?" he deadpans.

"Some of us don’t come with central heating."

He leans against the wall, arms crossed, looking like he’s impervious to the cold. Like this whole thing is a minor inconvenience and not, you know, a potential frostbite situation.

You don't respond, pulling out tins and empty boxes but nothing that can help warm your freezing fingers.

"Give me your hands," he mumbles.

"Get your own."

"You're gonna get frostbite."

"Promise?"

His eye twitches.

Half an hour later, you've turned away from him to hide the fact that you're blowing into your hands for any semblance of warmth.

"Just give me your hands," he sighs, clearly at the end of his patience.

"I’m fine," you grit out.

"You’re an idiot," he says instantly.

You send him the middle finger.

"Gonna be hard to flip me off once your fingers snap off."

You glare at him as he thrusts his flesh hand toward you, clearly daring you to refuse.

Reluctantly, you slap your hands into his, grumbling under your breath the whole time.

"Christ, your hands are fuckin' ice."

"Who's asking you to hold onto them," you snap, trying to tug them away.

"Quit movin'," he mumbles, tightening his grip. "I just said they were cold, nothing else."

Bucky's a space heater in human form. His hand radiates heat, almost immediately warming your fingers. You hate how good it feels. The additional heat the annoyance he provides you with also helps.

"Where'd the metal one go?"

"It's metal," he replies, tone flat. "What d'you think happens to metal in the cold?"

You narrow your eyes at him. "Pipe down, Mr Science. You're so fuckin' bitchy."

"Shut up," he groans, "Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking for."

Still, he stays where he is. The warmth from his hand is enough to have you regain feeling in your fingers, the sting of thawing making you wince.

"Give it," you demand after a moment.

"What."

You pry one hand loose of his, holding it out expectantly, sending an eyebrow at his metal hand that hung loose over his knee.

"What, one's not enough for you?" he evades.

"It's only fair," you argue.

"Fair? You think this is a democracy?"

"It's called paying it forward, asshole," you retort. "I'm not gonna let your one hand stay cold."

"No."

"It's so funny that you say that, because I don't remember asking."

"You’re cold enough as it is. It’d freeze your hands solid in seconds."

"Good to know you’re selectively useful," you mutter, but your voice is quieter now.

The two of you stare at each other, deadlocked, frost gathering in the air between you.

You pull your hands back.

"Christ alive, what are you? Six?"

"Either both hands are getting warm or neither are," you declare. "Cry about it. You've got both hands free to wipe your tears."

He sighs irritatedly.

You both sit in the cold, arms crossed over your chests.

"Give me your hands," he says, voice low.

"You first."

Finally, with a muttered curse, Bucky thrusts his metal hand at you. "Happy now?"

You clasp both his hands, and the two of you sit in sulky silence as the warmth slowly spreads.

You glance at him after a moment. "We look like we’re auditioning for Les Misérables."

He huffs a laugh, his breath freezing in the air.

Bucky lifts the arm holding his metal hand, and presses a kiss to your open palm, lingering for a second, before letting it down again.

"You argue too damn much," he mumbles.

The tips of your ears feel warm, and you don't think it's from the cold.

You roll your eyes, "You're the one who threw a hissy fit."

Either way, you shuffle closer to him as you wait for someone to come pick you both up.