#just a blurb idk

[rambamthxman]

"Stevie!"

Steve turned from where he was trying to unlock his car, trying to figure out who was calling his name at this god awful hour. He had to stay late to cover for Robin who was off being lame (on a hot chocolate date with Chrissy).

To his surprise and absolute pleasure, he found none other than Munson beaming at him with that big goofy grin of his.

Steve's momentarily awestruck at the way his friend looks, red cheeks and chin tucked away behind a handmade scarf (courtesy of Claudia).

He's also wearing the new jacket that Steve helped him pick out after much of the Munson belongings were lost. Big, thick, and warm. Comical looking on Eddie's lanky frame.

Eddie looks... adorable. Steve can't help the fond smile that spreads upon his face, giving the metalhead a little finger wave as he trudges over to him with the boots Eddie helped him pick out.

Steve's night is already a little bit better.

Happy Holidays one and all!

[heavenbarnes]

thinking about your older bf!simon that cannot cope with being far from you.

when you’re in the shower, he’s sat on the lid of the toilet on his phone (watching those rug cleaning videos) enjoying your faint singing under the stream of water, the smell of your body wash on the cloud of steam- ready to pass you a towel or get your back.

when you’re at your desk, working from home or studying, he’s just on the other side of it reading the paper with one outstretched leg tangled with both of yours. he’s dead quiet when you’re on a call, just happy to be around.

when you’re doing laundry, collecting the clothes in the hamper and crouching to stuff them into the washer- turning around and accidentally colliding with a thick wall of muscle.

“sorry, love”

he steps aside but you can hear his soft footfalls as he continues to follow you throughout your home.

when you’re both watching something on the couch, what starts as his pinky locked with yours turns into his arm around your waist. that turns into your head on his chest, which culminates with you falling asleep in his lap with his cheek on your head and soft snores emanating from his lips.

when you grocery shop, you push the trolley but his chest is to your back, arms either side of you and hands clasped over yours on the handle. you can thank his military training for his uncanny ability to tell exactly when you’ll stop walking.

when he wakes up in the middle of the night, on a rare occasion when you’ve managed to slip out of bed without him realising, he’s immediately in a panic calling your name.

“in here, my love”

as soon as his heart settles, he realises the bathroom light was probably a dead giveaway. you’re taking a wee, you’ll be back in a minute.

that doesn’t stop a sleepy simon from leaning in the doorframe, shielding his eyes from the big light as he waits for you to finish up.

even on the short walk back to bed, you can feel fingers twisted in the back of your shirt- almost like you’re leading the way.

minute you’re both on the mattress, you’re being wrapped up in his arms, slotting you perfectly into the curve of his front- almost like you’re made for him.

(and you are)

[loserboysandlithium]

18+ hoes

Eddie’s hand is clamped down on your mouth firmly as he pounds into your soaked pussy. Not only is Uncle Wayne home but his entire college D&D party is seated outside in the small living room waiting for Eddie to join them.

Eddie knew they were coming but he couldn’t stop. Not once the two of you had started. What was supposed to be a quickie before his campaign night was now coming up on an hour.

Your moans are muffled by his large hand as you struggle to keep your eyes open. You want to watch him. You love seeing his face as he loses himself completely. Fucking into you like an animal. His brown eyes half lidded, drunken mumbles of praise falling from his lips, the sound of your slick coating his cock every time he enters you.

“So fuckin good. Feels so fuckin good.” he murmurs, slowing down his thrusts. He looks down, watching as he pulls his long cock out, glistening with your cum. He pulls out almost completely before slamming back into you with a force so rough you scream into his hand.

Eddie chuckles darkly as nothing but a squeak escapes through his fingers. “Gotta be quiet, princess. We’ve got company.” he teases cruelly before he’s back at it. Shoving his cock deep inside, making your eyes roll. He loves every second of making you lose your mind beneath him.

You struggle to speak, mumbling a single word against his palm multiple times before he finally removes his hand.

“Harder.” you finally breathe out and Eddie’s eyes darken as a beautiful smirk appears on his lips.

“I fucking love you.” he moans before fucking into you with every ounce of strength he has.

[cowboylor]

gold-skinned eager baby

— the only thing that can bring charles down to earth after a race. charles leclerc x fem!reader (18+) oral (f. receiving), soft dom charles, (1) spank.

your sundress is hiked up to your waist before he sinks to his knees.

charles fists the floral pattern in his hand, snaking the other to hastily rub his fingers against you—quickly, without keeping rhythm in mind, anything to keep you whimpering into his neck.

“charles,” you’re saying between his rough kisses. “baby—”

you can't finish any thought when he gets like this. so stoic and eager to have his way with you that you can't help but abandon all words and let him spread your legs however he pleases.

when he finally trails past your navel and he's peering up at you from his knees, you're dry-mouthed and not sure where to put your hands.

“let me taste you,” he orders gruffly, using both hands to keep your dress above your panty line. your head falls back when you feel his breath waft over your clothed core. pressing his mouth against you, he murmurs, “open up for me, mon amour.”

you’re suppressing your moan through bitten lips, resisting the urge to press yourself deeper onto his face but trying to remain considerate.

“you—” you feel your eyelids involuntarily flutter when his nose nudges against your clit. “you don’t have to.”

your body shudders when you feel him chuckle against you, before moving to look you in the eye. you swallow roughly, staring back at his dark eyes that seem more blown out than usual.

“this,” his fingertips hook around the band of your underwear. “is for me.”

it becomes clear. pleasing you is always something charles has been able to control. something that he takes pride in—hearing the noise you make whenever he takes you over the edge is something he'll remember even after he forgets his own name. it's a constant. it can't be taken away by a bad qualifying session. and when would you ever deny him?

he’s quick with it; his calloused hands running up your thighs before gripping them tightly, pulling you against his mouth again. he presses a wet kiss against your swollen bud, murmuring incoherent praises into you until you’re whining and pulling his hair with nowhere to go but the wall behind you.

“charles,” you gasp his name like a prayer. “please.”

he hitches your leg over his shoulder, his mouth continuing to work against your cunt—drawing sloppy, figure eights with the tip of his tongue and glancing up at you for stolen looks at your fucked-out expression.

“right there,” you muse through bitten lips. “you’re good—you’re so good.”

your praise is met with a swift slap to the side of your thigh.

his muffled agreement against your cunt makes you stifle a smile and you have to resist the urge to tell him how good he is again. how good he is at everything he does and especially, how good he is at making you fall apart on his tongue.

“fucking—” he growls between sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. “—soaking.”

you’re mewling, arching against the wall and as he holds your thighs apart. you just about melt when he peers up at you again, eyebrows knitted in frustration from everything else and desire for you. your mouth runs dry. his face is smothered against you before you could remind him how much you love him.

“come for me,” he groans into you—the vibration sending shocks down your spine. “come all over my mouth.”

there are not enough oh god's left in you by the time the heat in your lower stomach coils and you're tugging on his hair harshly. when his nose presses harshly into your clit as he lapping at your core, your thighs begin to shake.

when he pulls your sundress back down, he’s turning you around just as quickly. pressing you against the wall from behind, you gasp as he moves to press himself into you.

“you can take more, can’t you, cherie?” he’s muttering on the cusp of your ear. your eyes roll back because yes, yes—you would take everything he gave you in this moment. “be a good girl and take more for me, yes?”

[cherrywade]

Pro basketball player Steve seeing a video of Rockstar Eddie at a concert. A song starts and the crowd is yelling and Eddie reaches down with his free hand, grabs himself, and screams "suck my dick!"

Half the crowd yells it with him, the other half just fucking yells. Steve watches the video like seven fucking times, his cheeks getting warmer and warmer each time until he decides to do something stupid.

Rockstar Eddie scrolling mindlessly and seeing a video of himself on stage, so he clicks it only to watch himself scream "suck my dick!" Followed by a video of steve spliced after it. It's just his face, his hair is a fucking mess, his cheeks all pretty and pink and he looks fucking distraught as he says "just give me one chance. One fucking chance." And then he covers his face with his hands and snorts into them, laughing as the video cuts off.

Eddie's heart flutters as he watches it a few more times. Pretty Basketball Boy Steve fucking Harrington just posted a fucking video practically begging to suck his dick. Eddie smirks at his phone. Who is he to deny a pretty boy begging so sweetly? He goes to Steve's profile and types out a message. Dropping his phone on his stomach as he laughs.

Steve opens the message with shakey hands to see:

Shoot your shot pretty boy. 🏀😉

It takes Steve half an hour, but he send back a restaurant name and a time. His palms sweating, cheeks hot.

Eddie answers immediately with:

It's a date. See you there sweetheart.

Steve falls face forward onto his bed, for once in his life thankful for his lack of impulse control.

[little-pondhead]

DP x DC Prompt

…

There are no more heroes.

Well, okay. Rewind a bit.

Danny has been doing the hero thing for a while now. He’s had a big reveal; everyone has accepted him (including his parents), the GIW disbanded, the Anti-Ecto acts repealed, and generally, everything is going great. Some of the A-Listers are even training as junior ghost hunters to help give him a break from his rogues! (Being Ghost King makes things hectic sometimes, and he just needs the extra help. Sue him!)

The point is, literally nothing is wrong with Danny Phantom’s afterlife.

And then Valerie Gray, the Red Huntress, disappears in front of his eyes.

Danny is baffled! She’s just…gone! Valerie just popped out of existence, like she was never there. But no matter how hard he searches in the Ghost Zone, he can’t find her soul anywhere. His core isn't broken in grief. So she’s not dead. Which is good. So then, where is she?

Some of the others come forward with ideas on how to find her. A few ghosts volunteer to go out into the mortal realm, an area Danny had declared off-limits, to see if she was out there. Danny approves it. He rounds up some of the friendlier (i.e., discreet) ghosts and Amity Parkers and demolishes the outside travel ban.

So everyone spreads out, looking for their dear frenemy and teammate. But it becomes apparent very quickly that something is wrong with the rest of the world.

There are no more heroes.

Every single living superhero on the face of the Earth has just…vanished. Villains are running amok; the countries are in chaos! Some aliens are invading Earth, mythical deities are trying to take over, and society is crumbling to the ground. Everything is on the brink of collapse.

Well, Danny was still there. And so were his people. They were pretty spread out, so could they just…take up the mantles? He also knew where to find the souls of dead heroes in the Zone; surely they wouldn't mind coming out of retirement for a little bit, especially if they couldn't die again. Oh! And that skeleton army leftover from Pariah Dark's reign might be useful in repelling those invading forces.

Honestly, there were more than enough hands to go around! And with the heroes gone, Danny didn't mind letting everyone out for a little break, as long as they followed his rules. They wouldn't stop the search for the other heroes, but hopefully, when they found them, the heroes wouldn't mind Danny's intervention too much. :)

In other words:

Someone fucks up, and all of Earth's living heroes are either wished out of existence or are whisked away to some far-off realm where Danny hasn't checked yet. In the attempt to figure out what's going on, Danny lets the dead run amok over the Earth as they search for clues. The skeleton army repels the invading armies, the souls of dead heroes deal with the world leaders, and his rogues and other Amity Parkers set up shop in place of famous heroes, trying to get the cities under control again.

Basically, they just do their best to keep everything from imploding until the Justice League and others are back.

(And why is it that Danny hasn't disappeared? Well, whatever caused everyone to go poof! only affected living heroes. Anyone heroes that were dead in the first place, or even just half-dead, stayed behind.)

[littlexdeaths]

going to the pumpkin patch with eddie to pick out the perfect pumpkin to carve later.

eddie ends up finding one that’s a little lopsided and was constantly being picked over amongst the rest of the pumpkins in the patch.

and when you ask him why he chose that one specifically, he responds by hugging the pumpkin a little tighter to his chest, the tips of his ears flushing a deep crimson.

“s’just something my mom and i always did…” he shrugged, before placing the gourd in the back of his van. “to look for the one that needed a home the most.”

[puckinghischier]

i just knowwww quinn has this streak of jealousy within him at all times.

like, even when you’re just joking around with jack and luke, you KNOW he’s giving them side eye the whole time, not appreciating how touchy jack is when the two of you are laughing at one of his bad jokes, or the way luke always seems to squeeze you extra tight during goodbye or hello hugs.

and it not that he’s doing it in a toxic way, really, he just always wants you all to himself. he loves the relationship you have with his brothers, truly, but you’re the one thing that he gets to have that they don’t. you were his friend first. you always wanted to come to the lake to spend time with him. you go to all of his games. live in his city. he’s had to share everything with his younger brothers growing up. the same hockey teams, the same coaches, luke following his footsteps and playing for michigan, jack being on team usa with him, their stats always being compared, and everything else about them.

which, he loves the fact that they all made it into the league and he loves experiencing all of this with his brothers, but sometimes it’s nice to just have something that’s yours.

and when you’re out at the bar with him? game over. if a man so much as looks in your direction with any sort of impure intentions, quinn is on you like glue. not that he doesn’t trust you. he trusts you infinitely, but he doesn’t trust everyone else. he makes sure your drink is always full so guys don’t try to buy one for you. he’s got a hand on you at all times, letting everyone know who you came there with. he’s always there to guide you to and from the bathroom, making sure you don’t get cornered by some drunk man looking for a good time.

at games, when he watches guys attempt to flirt with you in the stands, even though you’re wearing his name and number on your back, always gets him going, too. he knows you always turn them down, watching you flat out ignore their comments most of the time, but he can’t lie and say it doesn’t fuel him to play that much better, skating over to your section and making some big display of affection towards you after he scores, glaring at whatever man was trying to get your attention that night.

of course, you’re aware of his small jealousy problem, scolding him when he gets too pouty when you’re spending time with his brothers or chatting up his teammates while you wait on him to fulfill his captain duties after games. but you can’t lie and say the slight flare of his nostrils and grumpy furrow of his eyebrows doesn’t give you butterflies, sometimes. knowing he’s not really trying to control you, just wanting your attention, gives your ego a slight boost, if you’re honest.

despite his harsh demeanor and glares when the two of you are out in public, all it takes is one smile from you and he’s mush. he’d do anything you asked him to do (because let’s be honest, we all know he has a subby side), his number one priority always making sure you’re happy, even if he does have to clench his jaw to stop himself from yelling at jack when he plops down next you on the couch during movie night, leaving no room for quinn.

he knows you love him, and he know he loves you with everything in him, but sometimes he just wants to lock you up in his apartment so no one else gets the privilege of seeing your pretty face and hearing your sweet voice. because even though you decided quinn was the lucky one that gets to wake up next to you every morning, doesn’t mean everyone else has a right to experience your beauty and kindness all the time. sometimes he just wanted to be selfish, keep all of your good qualities to himself.

[bokutoko]

something about granny yumie giving kita her engagement ring to propose to you with…

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“now, shinsuke,” she pats his hand that now holds the ring, “you’ve got a good one, so you take care of her, okay?”

he nods, always so polite, so reserved. “yes ma’am.”

but granny yumie sees the pink that adorns kita’s cheeks and the tips of his ears when he talks about you, even when your name is merely mentioned in passing. she notices the sparkle in his eyes when he looks at you—a gaze so reverent—like you hung the moon and all the stars in the sky. she knows how he secretly loves returning home from a long, tiring day to be greeted with a homemade dinner and a soft “shin!♡” from you. she’s cooked dinner with you enough times (and raised him long enough) to realize just how predictable kita was. and she’s absolutely elated to see how easily you fit into his way of life.

so that pretty ring sitting in his hand is her blessing. because she wants kita to marry you. she’s no idiot; she can see when two people are so deeply in love, even someone as emotionally private as kita. she just knows you’re perfect for each other, and she knows he’ll take good care of you.

part one | part two

a/n: for @tetskuro to feed ur kita brainrot <33

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please do not copy, alter, or repost my work. ©bokutoko 2024.

[honeyglee]

hmmmm I’m thinking about Steve Harrington who’s always been a service dom by default. Who just wants to please his partners in any way he can. And as he explores his sexuality more he realizes he quite likes being a service sub as well. He flourishes under his dom’s directions and is endlessly thrilled by the praise he receives when he does a good job. And he always does a good job. But he never quite relaxes enough to stop being the one serving.

Until Eddie.

Eddie Munson with his deep voice and warm laugh and kind dark eyes. Eddie who sees right through him and understands that what Steve really needs is to be given the full pillow princess treatment. Eddie who makes it his mission to get the boy to melt under him no matter how long it takes.

And it doesn’t take long in the end. Steve breaks after just one full afternoon of slow grinding, soft kisses, and strong hands with practiced ringed fingers handling his body with so much care he could cry. Eddie has him pinned to his soft mattress but he’s not rushing for climax, just taking his sweet time and worshiping his body, showering him with praise in that delicious voice that makes Steve’s head go fuzzy.

“Thats it sweetheart, just let me take care of you. My good boy.”

Steve crumbles all at once, his pretty brown eyes all glossy with tears that collect on his lashes and finally spill over. He’s stuffed so full of love that it bursts out from him in heaving sobs. Dizzy and shattered from the feeling of being so cherished. Cherished, for once not for what he can do, but just for being him.

He whimpers as he comes down in between kisses, and he sniffles as Eddie sits behind him in the bath and gently washes his hair. And when he’s all wrapped up in Eddies strong arms and soft words and sweet kisses, nestled under warm clean sheets, he finally lets out a long shaky sigh before falling into the most restful sleep he’s had in a very long time.

[nezuscribe]

nsfw

gojo knows that he loves you. he knows the little things that make you smile and the foods that you despise. he knows the books you like the read and he knows that you love that one scene with mr. darcy's hand a little bit too much.

he spent his time observing what you like and don't like, and he loves knowing the things that make you tick. he's observant and not many people give him credit for it.

but something else he knows you love is how he knows your body better than anybody else.

"this good sweetheart?" he'd say, pounding into you as sweat trickles down his forehead, your tits moving with his every thrust as he holds onto your hips with a bruising strength.

"umph, y-yes!" you can barely talk, turning to putty in his hands. his eyes track your every move, a cheshire grin on his face at the way your face scrunches up so cutely.

he cock prods at that gummy spot deep within you, a place that no other guy could reach, and his veins drag along your clamping walls are sinfully euphoric.

"who fucks you this good, hm?" he teases, prodding at you as you turn your head to the side under his heated gaze, a flush traveling up your chest and to your cheeks as he angles his hips to reach deeper inside you. just as he knows you like it/

"you, fuck, you 'toru," you puff out, your hands fisting around his nape and tugging at his hair.

and his smile grows as his hips stop, your whines filling the room as he edges you for the third time that night. he adores hearing the way you plead with him, your lips pouting in that cute way that make him positively go feral.

and once again, a a slowly tantalizing pace, he starts.

just like he said, he loves knowing the things that make you tick.

[heavenbarnes]

have got it into my head older bf!simon that’s retired from active duty to become a bodyguard, specifically your bodyguard and he’s nothing if not loyal.

literally feels terror in the pit of his stomach when he doesn’t have his eyes on you. he’s made a habit of entering a room over your shoulder and now when he has a day off and has to do anything without you by his side? what’s the fucking point?

moves when you move, if you’re standing up so is he.

goes wherever you go, if you’re in the bathroom he’s outside the door (don’t ask him why his ear was pressed to it).

he’s your shadow, your bad loyal dog, your constant.

goes both ways, when he’s not around you don’t really want to think too hard about it but it’s definitely emptiness you can feel. you don’t think it can be loneliness, they’ve given you another guard, but- it’s not him.

when it is him, you don’t even have to look behind you to know he’s there. he’s quiet, he moves quietly but he’s always the presence. you can just start speaking and you know you’ll always get a response (even if it’s a grunt).

night shifts are unbearable. especially when your door is ajar and simon can see a direct line into your bedroom, the way your hand moves between your spread thighs. silent as he is, he can even hear the moans drifting off your lips.

it’s his job to keep his eyes on you, even when they’re roaming your naked body and he’s gripping his sidearm so he doesn’t grip himself through his trousers. it’s no use, his body will betray him- hands free.

he thinks of himself as some dirty old man, getting his kicks watching you like this. if his eyes weren’t between your thighs he’d know that yours were on him.

your shadow.

[stevenose]

i get what i want

steve harrington’s annual halloween party, 1991

contains: copious twin peaks references (you do not have to be familiar with the show to read!); audrey!reader; mean!reader; dumb puppy steve; tension; flirting; teasing; mentions of smut

note: i just think audrey and steve would be fun together… this is self-indulgent but i hope you enjoy! if you haven’t watched twin peaks, you MUST. you also should watch this tiny little clip to get the vibe of this fic <3

“Nice decorations.”

Steve turns, stomach twisting in a confusing, delicious way when he sets his eyes on you. Propped up on a bar stool in his kitchen, legs crossed under your wool tartan skirt, a foot kicking in your black and white oxfords. His eyes fall to your lips, painted cherry red. Your white teeth bite into them. You gesture towards the living room, juvenile decor strewn about.

“Audrey Horne,” he says, clocking your costume immediately.

You grin. “And you must be my Dale Cooper.”

He only dressed up like this because he had a suit and a similar tie and enough coffee mugs to sell it. “How’d you guess?” he quips.

You giggle, head turning to the side. You have her mannerisms down pat. “Isn’t that funny? What do you think it means, Stevie?”

“That Twin Peaks is a popular show.”

You tsk. “That’s no fun, is it? Maybe we’re all synced up.”

Your finger taps your temple. It registers now that you’re smoking a cigarette. He blinks at it. He opens his mouth to tell you to put it out, but you ash it onto the tile of his kitchen floor before he can speak.

“Put it out,” he says. Then adds, “Please.”

Your grin, playful and mean, makes him blush. “What are you worried about, Stevie? Your parents aren’t here.”

“Doesn’t mean I want you to make a mess.”

You hum. “You probably shouldn’t have big parties if you don’t want a mess, huh?”

You bring the cigarette back to your lips. You’re hypnotic, dragging Steve closer. He doesn’t know how to talk to you and he never has. You’re the only person he’s ever met that talks to him like that. Like he’s a nobody, like he’s pressed down underneath your shoe.

It’s so hard to admit to himself that he really likes it.

“I don’t remember inviting you,” he says. Tries real hard to keep up the cool guy act.

“No, but you invited my best friend.” You nod towards her, and Steve turns to look. He doesn’t remember inviting her, either, but at least she’s not ashing a cigarette onto his floor.

“What’s the problem, Special Agent?” You take a puff from your cig. Your head tilts to the side. “Do you want a taste?”

His heart skips, body growing hot, but then you’re handing over the nicotine.

And he really wishes you’d let him push up your skirt and eat your cunt out while you talk to him like that. So mean, teasing, hands pulling his hair so tight it hurts. Wants to shut you up when he pushes himself inside of you. Wants you to run your mouth when you find your voice again, talking down, degrading him so much he has to kiss you to make you stop. The revelation startles him, and your smile grows as if you can read his mind.

“I don’t remember Dale Cooper smoking,” he manages.

You roll your eyes. “Alright, Stevie,” you say, pulling back. You stare at him as you put it out on the countertop behind you. “There. No smoking.”

Your delicate hands suddenly reach out, nails manicured. You take his tie between your hands, studying the stripes of it. Then you tug on it, bringing his face down to yours. You smell like cherries and vanilla and a soft groan slips from his throat.

“How about a taste of something else?”

Steve blinks slow, stupid. Completely entranced. “Okay,” he whispers, cock hardening.

But you pull away and reach for the bowl of alcohol-soaked marichino cherries behind you, sitting pretty beside the jungle juice. You bring it to his lips, looking at him mischievously, teeth biting into your lip once again. “Open up.”

He doesn’t even think about it. His soft lips part and you hold the cherry by the stem, letting the bittersweet flesh of it catch between his teeth. He doesn’t pull away, so you do for him, snapping the stem off as you pull back.

He chews, delirious.

“Good boy,” you coo. “My Special Agent.”

And then you bring the stem up to your lips and it disappears between your teeth.

Steve’s cock aches. He watches your tongue roll in your mouth, a look of concentration bringing your arched brows together, before you pull it from your red lips in a perfect little knot.

He’s so dumbfounded. Wants you to kiss him so bad. He’d let you do anything you want to him.

You take one of his big hands, hanging heavy at his side. You place the stem in his palm and wrap his fingers around it, looking up at him so innocently. He thinks for a moment that you might actually like him, the way your eyes are all soft, your tongue swiping along your bottom lip.

“Something to remember me by,” you say.

You stare at each other for another long moment, and Steve’s eyes start to flutter shut, heart racing, stomach fluttering. But you never move, never press your crimson mouth to his.

“Your tie’s messed up,” you say instead, sitting upright. Your hands find the knot of it, and you push it upwards, making it sit snug around his bobbing throat. It restricts his air flow, making him feel even dizzier.

You smooth it, then drag your nails down his chest and tummy before dropping them so they gently brush against the zipper of his black slacks.

“You’re being a bad host,” you scold, getting down from the stool, squeezing yourself around him. “You better go mind your minions before they make a bigger mess than I did.”

Steve watches you disappear into the crowd, the world suddenly coming back again. The music’s too loud and he searches for Robin with lovestruck eyes. He finds her, watching him with her jaw dropped. She makes a face - what the hell was that? - and he decides his boner needs a little more attention than her prying.

[saintzweig]

patrick zweig who thinks its fun to rile you up and annoy you until it's not anymore. he's the type of person to constantly make fun of you even when you're not doing anything, making fun of the way you talk or just walking over to annoy the hell out of you. you try your best to avoid him but he shows up everywhere you are, and it doesn't help that you're in the same friend group. you hate the way he's so smug and insensitive towards you and he loves the way its so easy for him to get under your skin.

until one day, you're having a really shitty day and fall to floor, sobbing even when he's barely said a word. and he has no idea what to do except just hold you. you cry into his chest without saying anything and for the first time, he actually feels bad.

a few days later, you're back to avoiding him. and he hasn't tried to pick a fight with you since then, which felt weird because even if that was your dynamic, atleast you had something. now it's just uncomfortably awkward, you haven't even talked about what happened. he's no longer smirking at you whenever you enter the room, instead he looks at you with eyes filled with concern. heart filled with hesitance and longing?

[dromaeo-sauridae]

i think im getting artblocked again (in the middle of a big project too, awesome) have a pegasus

[inkdrinkerworld]

18+ only!!

having a logan thought and it’s basically:

you riding him but you’re not really doing any work cos logan’s got his hands cupping your face as he pounds up into you, smirking as he catches every facial reaction you make.

“feels good doesn’t it princess?” he mocks, watching your eyes roll back as his thrusts become sharper. “having a big cock in that tight little cunt?”

if his cock wasn’t doing it for you, his words were. you can’t help the way your body reacts to his actions, keen for more of his touch.

logan can sense it too, “oh you’re just desperate for it, ain’t ya sweet thing?” his voice is all mocking, not a single straightforward word leaving his lips yet you still can’t help but nod as best as you can with his hands holding your face.

he chuckles, lips finding yours in a sloppy and wet kiss. “don’t worry your pretty head, princess. i’ll take care of you.” and god does he