#i need to bite him

[angellayercake]

Just seeing his profile makes me actually insane but specifically this part

I cannot express the way his old man jaw and neck make me feel other than feral.

[in-som-niyah]

ok another floating thought:

Jason Todd does not tolerate bad eating habits.

Iced coffee for breakfast? Absolutely not.

6pm and you had not a single sip of water? Forget it.

Having a single slice of toast for lunch AND dinner? Naur babes.

You will be eating 3 square meals a day will allowance for snacks and 'happy foods' as he likes to call them.

As soon as you complain about a headache, stomachache, light-headedness, fatigue he will tell you to go fucking eat something with a glass of water, not coffee.

Its even worse if you live together like i strongly believe he would wake up early just to make you a balanced breakfast before you go about your day.

GOD BUT IF UR IN UNI??? babe be ready bc he will break into your dorm to bring u food that he cooked u himself. (he's a loverboy duh)

no time to cook or order? He's gotchu

too tired? already on the way

exam season with barely any time to take a breath? already on it babe he'll spoonfeed you while you revise your textbook

and plus, how else are you supposed to grow as big and strong as him when you're only eating half a meal a day?

I WANNA MUNCH ON HIS MOOSCLES SO BAD FUCKKKKK

[charmedcurse]

this picture of him makes me feral

[hungriestheidi]

george russell you slut

[sleepanonymous]

"Burst out of my chest and hide out in the vents"

When I catch you Vessel when I catch you I swear to god when I catch you

[rush-the-stars]

cw: reader is femme presenting in a skirt. and an actor bc im feeling self-indulgent. otherwise n/a. probs ooc for sae lol he’s maybe a lil too playful. but alas.

***

“your friend is trying to set us up.”

the night is damp and cold—biting enough that your fingers and tips of your ears ache with it as you stand outside this swanky, upscale speakeasy. its smoky and dark and smoldering in there, so the night air is a sharp balm, a rush of clarity.

especially after a drink or two had gone to your head.

you’d been dragged out by friends who mean well but are nosy, and desperately trying to get you to let loose. not focus on work—maybe find someone.

you roll your eyes and suck your teeth.

“she knows i don’t like athletes.”

“yeah, i don’t like actors, either.”

you finally let your gaze fall on itoshi sae; dressed smart in black slacks and some expensive, maroon turtleneck. looks maybe like cashmere, or some other soft, plush fabric that would feel a little too good to run your hands over—

his jacket is leather. rich and dark. it looks warm and supple.

and he is handsome. kind of ridiculously so, with his long lashes and artfully tousled hair. but he’s some friend of a friend they’d also dragged out tonight and he’s hardly said a word, hardly changed his facial expression. he’s not really your type, so you don’t really know what your friend is thinking—

“looks like it’s not meant to be then. too bad for her.” you reply with a shrug. you wrap your arms around yourself, trying to keep out more of the frigid wind as it whispers past.

but then you cock your head, consider him for a moment.

“wait. why don’t you like actors?”

there’s just the slightest, most horrible quirk upwards at the corner of his mouth.

there’s a little skip in the tempo of your heartbeat, too.

you bite back a shiver.

“why don’t you like athletes?” he returns easily. he shoves his hands into his pockets and your gaze flickers to them—big and long and lithe—before they disappear into his slacks.

“they’re cocky and smarmy.” you reply.

“funny. i don’t like actors for the same reason.”

“i’m not smarmy.” you snip.

“no, maybe not smarmy.” sae says, “but you’re cocky.”

“i’m confident.” you correct and you make the mistake of facing him and trying to peer up into his face with this little furrow on your brow. he’s half-lidded as he looks down at you, unbothered, except for the glint in his cold eyes—

“you’re vain.” he replies, and you think he’s trying to bite back a smile. “and spoiled. you’re used to getting what you want.”

you make a sound like a scoff, heat rushing to your face for reasons beyond you. it’s not enough to keep out the chill and when you move your hand to your hip, you have to keep your teeth from chattering to say, “because i do get what i want.”

“see?” he says, and you think it’s the most amused he’s been all night, “spoiled.”

it’s enough to irritate you, enough to make your eyes flash.

“i get what i want because i fight for it.” you snap back and now there’s more bite behind your words, crossing your arms across your chest again, “you don’t last long in this industry if you don’t, mr. fancy soccer player.”

you say soccer player with enough disdain that he laughs a little.

it’s the first time you’ve heard him laugh all night. you can’t help but stamp your foot a little;

“ugh! see, you are smarmy!”

“such a temper.” he sighs, “are you always like this?”

“are you always like this?” you bite back.

“cocky and smarmy?” he asks and this time, he smiles a little more—enough to disarm you. he’s got such a stupidly handsome smile. sly in the corners, bit crooked for all his perfection.

he’s so—

“yes!”

he shrugs. the wind rushes past and your teeth finally chatter and click together as you shiver hard.

and then, with his usual apathy, he says, “we should get you back inside. it’s cold out.”

and now he looks over you, holding your arms around your middle and trying to keep warm, shivering in your tights and little skirt. you hadn’t grabbed your jacket on the way out, thinking you’d just get a moment of air. you hadn’t anticipated him to follow you or—

“i’m fine.” you sniff, “i wanted air.”

there’s a moment of silence, before he suddenly moves. he shrugs off his leather jacket and drops it over your shoulders.

you stare up at him in shock as he fixes it to you—and its still warm from his body heat, enveloping you like a physical touch. it smells like cologne, too; black tea and sandalwood, surprisingly warm, before there’s a little bite of musk. maybe leather, from the jacket.

you try to recover, “why are you giving me this?”

“because you’re cold.” he says dryly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“what is my friend gonna think when i walk in wearing your jacket?” you ask now, looking up at him through your lashes. he finally lets his hands fall from the lapels of it, standing there in front of you.

“that you asked for my jacket because you were cold.”

“i didn’t ask!” you huff and again, a flicker of a smile darts across his face; there and gone like a shooting star.

“that’s not how i remember it—you asked and pleaded for it because you were just so cold.” he says in that dry way he has. but his eyes are bright, dancing with amusement.

you push him away a little, and you hear what might be a huff of laughter, “i did not! do not go telling people that!”

“—and well, you always get what you want, don’t you?” he asks, “so i had to give you my jacket.”

“i don’t want your jacket!” you snap, even as you hold it around yourself, cling to its warmth.

he shrugs, apathetic again, “i don’t care what she thinks.” and then he says, “don’t stay out here too long.”

“i’ll do what i want.” you sniff, as he starts to turn away, back inside. you fist your hands on the inside of his jacket and pull it tighter to you, trying to drown yourself in the warmth that’s still lingering from him and—

you call out to him before he makes it to the door, “i thought you don’t like actors?”

and he looks over his shoulder, small smile a flash across his face, there and gone so quick you start to doubt you even caught it;

“i don’t.”

[iimperiial]

Giggling, twirling my hair, and kicking my feet bcs of this boy

cr: @r0n1_edit on Tiktok

[stargirlrchive]

simon loves to lay his head between your thighs, loves to bite them too. they’re so soft and he feels so comfortable. wrapping his arm around your leg as he nuzzles closer to you. mumbling something about how soft you are, how good you feel.

[spaciebabie]

oh no. his shirt is too tight. whatever shall we do.

[isacksteban]

missing fernandos magic tricks rn

[preciouslittle-bhaalbabe]

Not to be lewd but BARK BARK GRRRRRRR RGRGRGGRGGRRGG

[sidsolos]

thinking about the little sliver of han's back we get to see in this scene i'm no better than a victorian man seeing ankles for the first time

[theothots]

[olisgifs]

Demetri + being just A Little Guy in 4x04

[merobunns]

the creature

[nexadarling]

No cause I can't believe Wolfwood is the type to add a little embellishment under his signature. And the little lines through it too???? God I love him so fucking much

And look at his cute little cursive!!!! I just know he's one of those ppl that bears down on the pen, look how dark his writing is!

And he tries to be all tough and shit. Look at the curl on the D. Ugh, what a dork