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mtsodie · 2 days
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sam and max species swap
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somehow i dont think much would change
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i think max is either a chihuahua or a white scottie . and sam is a flemish giant rabbit
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dolliremains · 2 days
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What’s your dirtiest secret?
probably running this account hehe :33 im a very stereo typical “good girl” irl i doubt anyone would suspect me doing this who knows me
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spiderversegf · 2 days
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hot showers are a terrible curse in disguise
i could not relate less and i hope that you can let true joy and bliss (the blessing of a hot shower) back into your heart someday soon.
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plipple · 5 months
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just think tumblr should see this error message i just got
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tonycamonte · 7 months
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you guys dont even know that the zootopia abortion comic takes place inside jerry seinfelds apartment
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neotrances · 1 year
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don’t you think it’s a little bizarre to promote drug usage to your underage fanbase
underage fanbase?
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bruisedboys · 1 year
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Eddie loves his shy girl so much, he’ll always call her “my girl” or “the wife” “the mrs” around others just to watch how red she gets 🥹🥹 but soon he finds that calling her the wife feels natural and right, he realizes she’s the only girl he ever wants
he totally does omg. bro def calls you his wife with absolutely no shame. thank u for the ask angel!!
summary: eddie calls shy!you a lot of names. all of them make you flustered beyond belief
shy!fem!reader 1k words
Steve’s invited you all to drinks to celebrate him and Robin finally copping a job that isn’t slinging ice cream or sitting behind a video store counter all day. Eddie’s helping you pick out an outfit. It’s taking longer than you’d expected. Something about posing for Eddie makes you so nervous you can barely walk.
“Are you done yet?” Eddie’s voice on the other side of the door is far from impatient, even though it should be by now.
You grumble something incoherent instead of answering. Eddie heard you and laughs.
“Y/N,” he says seriously. The effect is ruined because you can hear his smile in the way he says your name. “We’re gonna be late, baby. Come out and show me the dress. I bet this is the one.”
You stare at yourself in the mirror for a few seconds. It is a nice dress. It’s a good length and makes your chest look nice, the colour looks pretty on your skin. Still, you’re embarrassed. You don’t like dressing up. It feels attention-seeking.
You scrub your face with both hands and take a big breath. “Alright, fine.”
You turn away from the mirror before you can stop yourself and yank the bathroom door open. Eddie’s waiting for you on your bed, sitting pretty, if a little slouched. He has bad posture. But his back goes rigid when he sees you — he sits up straight and lets his jaw drop.
“Babe,” he half-whispers, totally in awe, his eyes blown wide. He’s definitely laying it on thick but you can sense the genuineness underneath it all. His eyes traverse a path down your body and back up again, leaving your skin burning. And he hasn’t even touched you yet. “Baby. Honey. Darling. You look amazing.”
You flush all over despite yourself. “Eddie,” you say, chiding.
Eddie pretends to look offended. “What?” He leaps off the bed and gets one hand around your waist, the fabric of your dress shushing under his touch. “I’m serious, Y/N. You’re a real stunner, you know that?”
His other hand finds your elbow and pushes all the way up to your bicep, his fingers pressing into your skin. You burn like a furnace where he touches you. You knew this part was coming.
“Thank you, Eddie,” you say, genuine underneath all the shyness.
Eddie looks like he’s about to say something more but you’re saved from his doting by the phone next to your bed ringing loudly. You make to get it but Eddie beats you to it.
“Hello?” He says into the phone, sounding half-annoyed. “Oh. Hi, Steve. Yeah, no, we’re coming. The Mrs is just getting ready.” A pause in which Eddie meets your eye and winks. You flush even worse than you already were. Eddie goes back to talking to Steve. “Uh-huh. Yeah, we’ll be there in ten. Bye, Harrington.”
Eddie puts the phone back and you try to compose yourself. The Mrs, he’d called you. You feel like you could die.
Meanwhile Eddie’s grabbing his jacket from the bedpost and shrugging it on. “He’s badgering us about being late,” he says, pushing his arms through the sleeves. “We better get going, dove.” He looks up at you, half in his jacket. “Do you need me to carry anything for you?”
My heart? You think. Then maybe your chest wouldn’t hurt so much. You shake your head.
“No, um. That’s okay.” You push your hair behind your ears and try not to show how much he’s undone you with his antics. “I’ll just grab my purse.”
Eddie smiles at you. “Okay. I’ll meet you in the car?”
You nod. “Yeah.”
Ten minutes later you’ve arrived at the bar and Eddie’s leading you inside with a hand at the small of your back. He smells good, like the cologne you’d bought him forever ago that he wears basically every day.
You step inside the semi-crowded bar and Eddie spots your friend group before you do.
“They’re over there, by the window,” he says, pointing. “C’mon.”
He takes your hand and pulls you in the direction of your friends. You let him guide you and he pleases, his hand a warm weight in yours. You stare at the back of his head until you arrive at the table. Steve, Robin, Nancy and Jonathan are all here.
“Munson!” Robin cheers. Your eyes zero in on the drink in her hand and you think she’s maybe already a bit tipsy. Then she spots you and beams. “Y/N!”
You smile back. “Hi, Robs. Hi, everyone, sorry we’re late.” You give a sheepish laugh and glance at Eddie. “My fault.”
“It was worth it though, right?” Eddie says enthusiastically, to the group at whole. He throws an arm around your shoulder and jostles you gently. “Doesn’t my girl look great?”
My girl. Your face burns. There’s a chorus of agreement from around the table — it makes you feel better but not better enough that you’re not still flushing furiously.
“Eddie,” you mumble, avoiding everyone’s eyes and staring at the tabletop instead. You elbow him in the side, too gentle for what you feel he deserves.
Eddie laughs loudly. “What?” He asks, even though he knows exactly what.
You huff and wish the floor would swallow you up. When it doesn’t, you let Eddie pull you into the booth next to Robin. It’s a tight squeeze and Eddie’s thigh presses into yours, his jeans warm and rough on your skin where your dress rides up your thighs.
You think Eddie notices this too because he lets his hand fall to your lap instead of his own, spreading his hand over your thigh, his fingers grazing your bare skin. He squeezes you and you try not to show how much he affects you.
“Drinks?” He asks you, like everything is completely normal and you’re not a nervous, flustered wreck right now.
“Okay,” you say, unable to get more than one word out.
Eddie grins wolfishly. You think he’s probably planning on being like this all night. You don’t mind as much as you should.
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“Okay,” you say, unable to get more than one word out.
Eddie grins wolfishly. You think he’s probably planning on being like this all night. You don’t mind as much as you should.
-
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donbrothers · 1 year
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o7
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mediaviewer · 8 months
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every time i get a “what you need to know about the womens world cup” article recommended
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vampyr3wife · 2 months
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Outfit of the day? (love your style so much TT💕)
thank u!! ฅ^_^
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abiiors · 3 months
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Do you have any plans to write smut ? 👀👀. I'm starving and begging for a crumb
.ೃ࿐ the jeweller's hands
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(wrote this on my phone and it’s not proofed, sorry!!!)
cw: cheating, mean matty
“keep it down or i’ll fucking stop,” matty growls in your ear the moment your back hits the wall. 
fifteen minutes. that’s how long you lasted before seeking him out in the crowd—a risky fucking business considering you’re attending this stupid little charity gala with your husband in the first place. 
regardless, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. 
not that you’re even thinking about him right now… the man you came here with is the absolute last thing on your mind. your thoughts wander—first to matty in a suit, to his sleeves straining over his biceps and the way he wears no tie to this formal event. his shirt collar is open too, tattoos peeking out surrounded by a fine dusting of hair that’s gone slightly grey now, just like the grey in his curls. 
he’s a vision. and now he’s here. inches away. trapping you between him and the wall and grinding his pelvis against yours in a way that makes it very clear what he’s here for. 
matty hand tightens on your hips. 
“here?”
“oh, don’t act coy with me now.”
his voice drops down to a harsh whisper, voice full of venom and lust but he only steps closer and the heat in your belly burns hotter. 
so what if this is wrong… 
“didn’t think about that when you were making fuck me eyes at me out there, did you?”
no. you didn’t. 
but he can chase you a bit more. 
“someone’s going to hear us,” you all but purr in his ear, niping at his earlobe. matty’s hold on you tightens and suddenly there’s not enough air in this fancy, marbled bathroom. 
“then you’re just going to have to shut up and take it like a good little slut, yeah?”
there’s no way you would ever let anyone else speak this way to you. but matty is older, matty knows what he’s doing. matty, with his calloused hands and a fallen angel face knows how to make your blood sing.
he is the only one that gets a pass. 
“strip,” he orders and takes a small step back. 
you can’t help the small choked sound of protest that leaves you but then there he is again, spinning you around and undoing the zip of your dress before you can make another sound. 
“can you step out of your dress on your own?” his mouth lowers to your ears, warm breath cascading down your cheeks, lips brushing against your skin ever so slightly. “it won’t be pretty if i have to do it, love. it might end up on the floor in tatters.”
you swallow harshly and nod just once. 
he’s on you the moment the dress pools around your feet and you stand there, back pressed to the wall in just a thong. you don’t miss the way his eyes hungrily take you in—the curve of your hips and up to your stomach. then to your tits. 
of course, his eyes linger there—on your peaked nippes and then up to your neck. you resist the urge to squirm under his gaze. 
“are you just gonna stand there and watch me?”
matty clicks his tongue. 
“you’ve gotten bold, haven’t you?”
“only because you’ve gone soft,” you taunt. it has the effect you want it to have. 
matty crashes his lips against yours before you’re even properly done speaking. it’s a furious kiss—teeth clashing together on impact, your lipstick smeared all over your mouth. this isn’t a soft kiss. it’s not a lovers’ kiss. 
this is a kiss that stings.
“that what you think?” he speaks when he takes a moment to breathe and your heart leaps in your throat. oh he sounds angry. the kind of anger that he’s about to take out on you… 
“we’ll have to change that won’t we…”
“we—fuck!”
you feel a sharp sting as matty pinches your nipple between his fingers, taking advantage of the piercing, digging the cold metal further into your skin until your legs start shaking. wildfire runs through your blood, burning away any sane thought in its way, leaving you with just desire and lust and complete abandon.
“what was that? couldn’t hear you that well…”
this time you don’t try. 
“please–shit! please, matty!” you whine, trying to clench your thighs together, but he pushes his knee between them, his body holding yours against the wall. 
the bathroom somehow seems smaller now, hotter than it was before. the only thing between you and someone else walking in is a flimsy locked door. 
anyone could knock. anyone could—
“you’re thinking,” he tuts. he’s right though. you are thinking…
good thing he’s right there to fuck you dumb. 
“good little sluts don’t overthink,” his fingers hook harshly into the waistband of your thong and you already know what’s coming next. 
a ripping sound echoes in the room and your thong falls to the floor, ripped to shreds. 
“gonna send you back to your husband with my cum dripping down your thighs, darling, that what you want? hmm?” his words swirl around your brain at a dizzying pace making you nod involuntarily. 
that is what you want… to feel him so deep inside you that you won’t forget it for days. to have your lungs full of his cologne. to have your fingers shoved so deep in your mouth that you’d gag around them. 
your heart pounds in your entire body as you help matty undo his belt with shaky fingers. he’s already so hard under your touch, groaning as you palm him first through his trousers and then through his boxers. 
fuck. for a moment you wonder what he would taste like. if he would let you if you just dropped to your knees right here. but the desperation to feel him inside, hitting the spot over and over again, has you drooling. 
“spread your legs,” he whispers roughly and his fingers find your clit. 
lazily, he swipes through your folds and collects some of the wetness making you hiss in pleasure. your eyes roll to the back of your head—this is what it should feel like always, no thoughts, just him and his hands and—
without warning you feel the tip of his cock entering you and you bite onto his shouder, desperate to keep the screams in. 
“matty—”
but his mouth is on yours once again, swallowing every moan and scream and hiss of pleasure as he pounds into you mercilessly. 
his hips slam into yours at a bruising pace; urgent and desperate, like he can’t get enough. it’s feverish even, almost as if you might slip away if he lets go even just a little. matty lets out a string of curses between each kiss. 
somewhere in the back of your mind, you know your lips will be swollen and red by the time you’re done. you know you’ll have to find some way to look put together before going out again. but right now you don’t care… not when your entire body is full of ecstacy. not when matty makes you feel so so good.
sooner or later it will end, your mind reminds you. it will end and you’ll have to gather yourself and go out and play good little wife to a man you barely care about. 
it will end and you will go your separate ways only to find each other again in some shady corner or some brightly lit bathroom at some pretentious event…
matty’s breath hitches when you clench around him. 
the feeling in your spine is overwhelming—the tingles, the little electric jolts, the bursts of pleasure that build and build until the knot inside your stomach tightens impossibly fast. 
“matty—gonna cum–please…”
“feel so good, darling,” he replies. a rare praise coming from him but it intensifies the dizziness, the bloodrush. “let me feel you,” he coaxes. this time, his voice comes out much softer, almost…tender. 
“cum for me,” he speaks and pulls your thighs higher over his hip. suddenly he’s reaching so much deeper, hitting the spot harder and the trembling in your body increases tenfold.
your legs spasm, barely holding you upright and a wave of pleasure crashes over you.
the next time you open your eyes, matty’s face is contorted with pleasure, eyes half-lidded, jaw slack, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows harshly and you feel the warmth of his cum dripping out of your cunt and down your thigh. exactly what he’d promised.
if you look down, you’ll find his hands imprinted on your hips—red marks in the shape of his fingers that will no doubt bruise in the next couple of days. something of his for you to hold on to, long after he leaves. a welcome sting.
he does look down when he opens his eyes—looks down at the way your bodies are joined together, how your legs part around him, how your body fits into the crevices of his so perfectly. he almost smiles then but shakes his head slightly.
you expect him to say something, anything that would fill in the silence.
you were good, darling.
you were amazing.
come home with me.
he says none of those things. silently, matty zips us his trousers and fixes his belt. then he brings his thumb to your chin, softly wiping away the lipstick stains, up to your thumb so he can do the same there.
his eyes remain trained to your lips but you suspect it’s more cowardice this time than lust.
“get dressed,” matty speaks and his voice comes out brittle, devoid of feelings. “don’t want your husband to come looking for you.”
and then he steps away, as if none of this ever really happened.
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mtsodie · 28 days
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Show me the pathetic wet man (Kallamar), pretty please? 🥺
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the slayer
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sexyandhedonistic · 7 months
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what is the differences between think of it and from it?
This is determined by the absence or presence of desire. In other words, whether or not you are conscious of being something.
Think of states as locations. You would like to be in the state of beauty, but you are not there so you cannot think as if you were there (from). You can only think of it. If you would like to be in that state, you must first select the state of beauty (via I AM), by declaring yourself to be, I AM beautiful. When you place yourself in that state, then you can think from it since you are already there.
In short, thinking of implies separation, thinking from implies unity (identity).
Thinking of: I would like to be beautiful Thinking from: I AM beautiful.
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plipple · 7 months
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this has some sort of fucking emotion to it and i dont know which one
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neotrances · 5 months
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not everyone has the same education experience as you, critical thinking about media is hard
when spongebob picks up his jelly fishing net and goes outside, what do u think he is about to do?
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bruisedboys · 1 year
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peter parker who always lets you hang off his arm. you’re always holding it to your chest when walking or just standing. letting him do the guiding because you just want to stick to his side. you wrap both your arms around his and just fiddle with his fingers and maybe tug on them when you need his attention. you rest your chin on his shoulder when he’s stopped to talk to someone or when you’ve both sat down. you just have to be near him tbh <3333 and he doesn’t care one bit, he actually hates it when you’re not as close.
aerial why would you do this to me!!! I want to be his clingy gf so bad. also this is really short sorry </3
Peter sometimes finds it hard to breathe when you cling to him like this. You’re so close and your warmth is seeping into him and your perfume smells like honey and flowers and hell, he’s so in love with you he could die.
One of your hands is slotted in his, your fingers having searched for his and found them the moment you’d stepped outside. Your other hand is curled around his elbow, clutching his arm to your chest. Peter thinks it’s cute, how close you want to be to him. How you don’t seem to want to let him go.
“Y/N, honey,” he says with a poorly contained grin. “You okay?”
You look up at him, pretty as ever. Peter’s chest burns at the sight of you.
“Fine,” you say, and you look it. Your smile is bruising.
The breeze has blown a strand of hair across your face. Peter lifts his free arm and pushes the stray lock behind your ear, his hand lingering on your jaw.
“Did you decide what you feel like eating?” He asks slowly. It’s hard to get the words out when his fondness and adoration for you is making his chest tight.
You don’t notice, and besides, you look like you’re feeling an equal amount of fondness for him. “I was thinking Thai,” you say thoughtfully. “But only if you want that too?”
Peter grins. He doesn’t care what he eats, as long as it’s with you. He presses his thumb to the corner of your mouth, then leans down to press a chaste kiss to your wind-bitten lips. “Thai it is.”
Peter and you walk the short distance to the Thai restaurant. You cling to Peter the entire way. He can’t stop smiling. He wants you this close forever, even if it means you’re so close he has to be extra careful not to step on your feet.
The Thai place is busy tonight. Neither of you mind. You stand in line, so close your shoes press up against each other. You fiddle with Peter’s fingers, trace the lines on his palm, the veins on the inside of his wrist. Peter is putty in your hands. His chest feels like it’s on fire, worse when you press into his side and let your head fall against his shoulder, your weight familiar and soft and warm all at once.
By the time the food comes out, hot and fresh and smelling delicious, Peter’s chest is already so full with fondness for you he’s not sure he can fit anything else in there. He tries his best.
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