#the guys doin guy things

[eemiejab]

sorry for my absence

[parkercore-69]

yo guys i think it’s pretty sweet when Troy smiles at the camera when Abed’s filming ☹️

[fluffyartbl0g]

Holy crap this is like world record breaking pace guys

Speedrun/Time Travel AU masterlist

[astrovoyagrr]

literally eating this up

THE FUNKIEST ART EVER !!!

more beatle ponies.... more...!!!!! *throws these at you*

[hungharrington]

ok this is filth adjacent but would u ever write a lil blurb or fic about Steve with a gf whose super insecure about her stretch marks and body? And May be she doesn't want to disappoint Steve bc his exes seem prettier

would i ever! i love these type of requests i love ppl getting a little bit of respite and comfort through fic esp in smut! i hope this makes u feel even a little bit hotter babe <3 1.6k, afab!reader, and just filth adjacent sry! MDNI this entire blog is 18+

Steve's mouth is on your neck, his tongue hot where it teases against your skin, and his hands are searching your body with a lustful fervor.

Your head tips back. It's so easy to let him in, let him slide his body closer to yours, to get more of whatever he's giving. The hot press of his mouth on your neck feels damn good enough to make your blood sing—and heat travel between your thighs, wetness beginning to pool.

You want to rub your thighs together, if only for a little relief. Steve's toned thigh between them prevents it. You scrunch his polo between your hands instead, trying to wrestle the courage to slip your hands beneath it.

You're lying back on his bed, propped up lightly by the pile of pillows the two of you had stacked when the evening had begun. The television at the end of the bed runs a film idly in the background, completely unnoticed by this point.

"How we doin'?" Steve's voice rumbles out, barely parting his lips from your skin before he's swooping back in to nip at it again. The bastard.

Your hands flex again, finally mustering the nerve to dive beneath the fabric of his shirt. Steve's warm. You feel the muscles of his tummy shudder as you skim your fingers across it, a pleasurable shiver running down your spine at the trail of hair you can feel leading into his pants. Steve's breath hitches, close to your ear.

He nudges your jaw with his nose lovingly, planting another row of sloppy, wet kisses down the expanse of your neck.

"Hmm," He hums, questioningly. "Still doing good?"

You realise you hadn't exactly answered him and something glows in your chest at his insistent checks. Extremely reluctantly, you manage to drag your hands away from his torso, shifting them up to subtly nudge his face out the curve of your neck.

Steve's eyes dart up to your face as he pulls himself back, his expression turning dopey the moment your hands cup his jaw. His cheeks are flushed ruby and his hair has been mussed in all his steamy motions. He looks fucking delicious.

You kiss him — surging up to connect your mouths, warmth exploding in your chest and trickling down, down when Steve responds with a revere hunger. His plush lips scrape against yours filthily, his tongue always so perfectly teasing. You're gasping for air when you pull away.

"So good," You say breathily, finally answering the question.

Steve takes a moment longer to register what you've said—but that dopey look crosses his face the moment he does.

He plants his hands on the bed and shifts his weight back, sitting back on his heels. His thigh is still situated right between yours and you have to shove down the lustful urge to grind against it, lazy pleasure still pooling low in your gut. Though you're pretty sure Steve wouldn't oppose the idea.

Chest heaving lightly, you watch as Steve reaches for the edges of his polo and tugs upwards. It comes off in one smooth motion and you're rewarded with a fine sight. You're pretty sure your mouth actually waters in response. Tan chest, scattered moles, the smattering of hair. Oh god, you want to lick him.

Something in your face must give away your train of thought because Steve laughs. He leans back down, one hand moving to your waist, and nuzzles his nose against yours. He steals a kiss from your lips.

"See somethin' you like?" He says, the smirk evident in his tone. You feel like you might vibrate out of your skin.

"Shut up," You aim for fiesty and fall far, far short. You sound on the verge of a whine when you say, "You know I do."

Steve grins wider. His hand on your waist tucks under your shirt seamlessly, his thumb drawing maddening circles into the skin. Your breath catches, even as your arousal hikes.

"What about you?" He whispers the question between his kisses as he mouths along your jaw again, finding that same damn spot on your neck again. It'll be violet coloured by the morning. "Do I get to see something I'll like?"

He's asking permission. It takes a long moment to realise that—too distracted between the touch of his fingertips skating across your skin and the addicting feel of his lips against your pulse.

You nod without thinking.

Steve pulls your shirt up no more than a few inches before your brain catches back up. Your hand moves abruptly, grabbing his hand and yanking it and your shirt back down in a split second.

Steve's halting in an instant, pulling back from working lovebites on your neck to see what he's done wrong. There's a string of spit connecting his lips to your neck.

Steve frowns in concern, shifting his hand up wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, as he makes an effort to put a little distance between you.

"You okay?" He asks. You're still holding his wrist, which is still holding the edge of your shirt. "What happened?"

Your mouth opens uselessly and closes. You know precisely why you had stopped him and now you're facing up with the fact you have to tell him, lest Steve believe you're actually having second thoughts over being with him.

It's just... you've probably spent far too many hours in the mirror. You've seen it from every angle. Seen it in every lighting. You can't quite ever seem to make your body look good.

You don't look like any of the girls Steve's been with in the past.

Comparison is killer, you're aware of this, but infuriatingly you just can't seem to stop. You think of what Steve will see the moment he gets your shirt off, what he'll realise, and your hand tightens around his wrist subconsciously. Your throat tightens up too.

Steve's face melts into a softer expression, eyes big. "Hey, hey, it's totally fine if you said one thing and- and you realise that you didn't mean it, it's okay."

Words continue to evade you and humiliatingly, it feels more likely that tears will escape you before any explanation will. He's being so nice.

"But..." Steve continues, his tone wary as if aware he's treading on uneven ground. "You seemed like you were into it. Like, comfortable, I mean. Then it was like a flip switched and you froze."

"I-" You finally find your voice. You clear your throat as you try to find the right words, breaking Steve's intense gaze to study the ceiling.

This is worse. This has got to be worse that just Steve taking your shirt off and being disappointed because— because you're goddamn building up to it. Your eyes screw shut and you decide it's better to rip the band-aid off.

"I'm just," You can't quite keep the quiver out of your voice. "I'm not like- like girls you've dated before."

Steve makes a noise of confusion and it's enough to force your eyes open. You glance down, taking in Steve's adorably furrowed brow.

"Okay...?" He says, clearly still a bit confused.

"I mean, Steve," You say, voice a little steadier. Your hand around his wrist finally remembers to relax.

You release the hold on him and tuck your hand under your shirt discretely, covering the skin of your stomach you know is warped with stretch marks. "I don't look like the girls you've dated before. My- my body is different."

The wrinkle between Steve's brow shifts, moving from confused to something a little harsher.

"So?"

You blink. Of all the possibilities that you had run, not one of them had ended with Steve saying that.

"So?" You echo meekly. "So... so you might be like, I don't know, disappointed or think—mfh"

The words get smushed beneath Steve's fervent kiss, stealing one kiss off your lips and all your words with it. You blink up at him again, all your endless arguments of why Steve would be so disappointed suddenly silenced.

Steve grins, evidently pleased with his reaction.

Tentatively, moving slowly so you could intervene if you wished, he drags his hand along the sheets and onto your hip again. This time, however, he pushes the fabric of your shirt up and doesn't pause til it's bunched up, most of your torso on show.

Your nerves gather, gnawing at the edges of your chest. You can't bring yourself to move the hand that's trying to hide part of you, even if a dozen other stretch marks are visible now.

Then Steve leans down and he kisses your skin, right in the middle of your tummy.

"I think," He says, lips dragging across your skin and setting it aflame. He's looking up at your through his lashes, your gazes locked, his eyes dark. Another kiss, this time longer, with just a flash of tongue. "You're hot shit."

Instinct makes you want to scoff. But Steve says it so seriously that you almost believe him off the bat. Believe that he believes that.

He lowers himself onto his elbows, letting both of his large hands settle onto your waist, fingers pressing into the skin lightly. You shiver at the feeling and start to consider the possibility that he actually does think that.

"And I will gladly," He punctuates the word with another kiss, this one evolving into a soft, sensual lick up towards your breasts which peak lustfully in response. Your breath hitches. "Spend all the time needed if you need some convincing of that."

His hands move, sliding down til he's gently knocking yours aside, big warms hands spread across your hips. His thumbs are moving, drawing soft motions down, you realise, towards your waistband. Your pulse jumps between your legs, the heat in your body uncaring about the brief interruption.

Steve kisses your tummy again, further down this time. You acutely realise you've got Steve Harrington between your thighs, looking up at you with darkened eyes and promising filthy things with his fingers. Or mouth. Both if you're lucky.

"So," Steve murmurs, voice raspy and low. His thumbs slip beneath your waistband, just an inch. "You gonna let me convince you?"

You're feeling pretty damn lucky.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

gukgak specifically from my typing (man w/ three jobs & a creeping sense of dread)

[dulioon]

is he even slayin.... ....

[front-facing-pokemon]

[midbyte]

have u ever seen a man so beautiful u started crying

[clownsuu]

Can either of your Wallys--Human or puppet, sense if someone is afraid? 'Cause I'm terrified...of them both, I mean.

I'm 5'0", only two feet taller; and feel like they could still dropkick my dumbass. Gonna have to jump onto Howdy's shoulders like a scared cat to get out of range. (I love your art btw!)

I like to believe that Wally can just s m e l l fear, absolutely thrives in power knowing that nobody can really do anything about it as he basically plays them all in ruses of complete ignorance- although he too is a victim, he cannot help toying amongst the prey

I say as I draw him also being completely “no thoughts head literally empty” HDHDHDJDJ

[wishjacked]

HEY GUYS! just wanted to shout out the @spiderforestcomics anthology that's currently on Kickstarter!! Here's the link. The prompt for this one is "immortal", all the comics in it center on that theme somehow. :)

It literally only has HOURS left and it's still rather far from the goal! I've backed these anthologies in the past and they're so fun, they've been a good way for me to introduce some of my friends to short comics and webcomics. Here's a couple of comic previews...

The Silence at the End of the Universe by Phineas An immortal being realizes that the universe around them is dying.

~

He Got Better�� by Jacki Crabbng Bon can't die. How is he sure? (that Dumb Ways to Die song starts playing really aggressively in the background)

~

Little Light by Toby The sun makes a friend. This comic is set during the prehistory of Toby's webcomic, which has a kind of DnD inspired setting, and I think it's such a fun idea to mash prehistoric and fantasy settings together!!

~

Good Luck Cat by Kaija Harrison A musician realizes her shockingly long-lived cat will likely outlive her and asks for help in finding her a new home.

~

Also, if you end up wanting to grab one of the tiers that includes their previous anthologies, I super recommend the Haunted anthology, that's my favorite one that I've read so far!! (Here's one of the comics from that anthology, so you can see the kinds of comics that their anthologies often have :D)

[misssclumsy]

*people are using chat gpt for creating poetries*

*39873 poets jump out of the window*

[raineandsky]

Hi (if you are okay with writing this)

What about a hero (who’s a trans man) captured by the villain and the villain finds his top surgery scars and is surprised of the fact but not judgy or disgusted like the hero thought they’d be

Love ❤️ your writing,thanks

i hope you enjoy - thank you for the request!

“We don’t want to ruin this lovely suit the agency put together for you,” the villain purrs as they run a hand over the seams of the hero’s shirt. “Let’s get you into something more comfortable, hm?”

“Oh, uh, no,” the hero refutes weakly, “you can ruin it.”

The villain looks entirely unimpressed. “We have to wear unflattering uniforms when you catch villains. It’s only fair you do the same.”

“No, no, [Villain],” the hero tries, which the villain is pointedly ignoring in favour of moving too close, with too much purpose, “you don’t get it, I can’t—”

The hero’s protests are in vain. The villain’s hands are already on the hem of his shirt, and with a hefty pull they yank it directly over the hero’s head.

The hero can feel their stare burning into his chest. He directs his eyes to the ground to avoid seeing whatever disgust is inevitably on the villain’s face. Then, after a moment that’s painfully long, the villain says, “what kind of fight did you get in?”

The hero accidentally glances up at them in surprise. It’s not disgust on their face—it’s confusion. Not a look that the hero is unfamiliar with; the disgust will come once he explains.

“Fought a doctor and lost,” he says with a short laugh. “They’re, uh… it’s from top surgery.”

The villain’s face is blank. “Huh.”

Here comes the disgust. The hero sucks in a deep breath, crossing his arms over his chest without thinking. “Do you have something I’m meant to be putting on?”

“Oh, yeah, ‘course.” The villain grabs a shirt and throws it at the hero, waiting patiently while he hurriedly puts it on. “So you’re, y’know…”

“Trans,” the hero finishes awkwardly. “Yeah.”

“Cool.” The villain turns to gesture to a door across the room. “Alright, through there, please. Let’s get this torturing on the road.”

The hero’s the one that’s staring blankly this time. “What?”

“What did you think you’re here for?” The villain’s scoffs. “I’ve caught you, and now I’m going to torture you about it.”

“No, I get that, I just, uh…” The hero glances around the room idly, like something will give him the confidence he direly needs for this interaction. He waves his hands vaguely at his chest. “Don’t you, like, have anything to say?”

The villain’s face contorts into a confused frown. “… I accept you?”

“I thought you’d be more…” The hero grapples for an appropriate word. “Judgy.”

“I’m a villain, [Hero], not an asshole,” the villain says with a tired sigh. “Being a guy or not doesn’t change the fact that you’re a hero and I hate you. If anyone does have a problem with it, though, send them my way. Always fancied myself a bit of an anti-hero.”

The hero can’t help the relieved smile pulling at his lips. “I’ll make sure to do that.”

“Thanks.” The villain waves impatiently at the door again. “Now, are we doing this or not?”

The hero nods plainly, some of his usual heroic confidence back. “Only If you don’t mind me breaking out in a few days.”

“Ugh, if you have to.”

But the villain smiles, the friendly kind, and the hero decides that maybe his nemesis could be his ally too.

[micamicster]

Everybody gon respect the shooter

Money Trees by Kendrick Lamar vs The Wire (2002-2008)

[noxturnals-void]

Big boi selfie

[sunnysideray]

Finally made a ref for the little shit (affectionate) in all my SDJ posts!

Notes incase my hand writing is truly ass [top to bottom]:

- “Gets Spring/Summer freckles”

- “He always tucks in his shirt cuz he’s a freak”

- “Has had this thing forever + won’t let it go”

- “bad British habit he started in ELM.S [elementary school] (it’s the pinky thing)”

- “weird ‘techwear’ obsession”

- “always wears LONG SOCKS. hates every other sock ever.”

- “Wears his ‘comfy shoes’ 99% of time”

Ray is just a funny lil guy that likes to play his drums and not use his degrees for better jobs :)

Wait… who’s this?

(i forgot to add it on there, but he’s around 5’11”, aka taller than lilshit lmao)