#thank you so much for asking darling!!

[blindmagdalena]

i'm thinking about john killing someone in front of his s/o, but that was about to kill them so his violent is seem a protectiveness. to be seem bloody and not be feared....

18+ 2.7k homelander x reader, established relationship, gore, blood, morally grey reader? shower sex, fingering, praise kink, breast play, dirty talk, rough sex, count down, needy/possessive/yandere HL, reader is nondescript with f!anatomy.

Homelander is breathing shallowly, eyes wide—wild—blood dripping from his chin and from the stray strands of hair that fell forward when he lunged. He's elbow deep in a man's sternum, and his other hand is wrapped tight around his broken neck, the bones like fragments of glass poking out from beneath rapidly cooling skin.

It all happened in an instant. One second, the man currently in his hands was grabbing you by the hair, a knife swinging wildly towards your throat, and the next he was dangling from Homelander's grasp, heart slowing against his knuckles.

He laughs through his teeth, licking his lips reflexively. The blood is sour, contaminated with god knows what, but that hardly takes away from the thrill of the moment.

It's been a while since he held the gaze of someone whose life he just claimed. Long enough that he forgets where he is, and who he's with.

He drops the man to the ground like a wet sack of potatoes, innards spilling out from the hole his arm leaves behind. In the man's hand, Homelander sees something that sets his teeth on fucking edge: strands of your hair ripped from your scalp in that limp, dead palm.

"You stupid motherfucker," he growls through a crooked sickly smile, lifting his boot to crush the hand like it were nothing more than an insect. The man's heart has long since stopped, but the rapid pound of another is still loud in his ears.

Yours.

Slowly, he turns around to look at you. You're cradling your skull where you'd been grabbed, tears gathering in your wide glassy eyes, the shock of it all catching up to you. You're staring intently at the corpse, watching blood pooling out from beneath it.

You've never looked at him with fear in your eyes before, but that's precisely what he sees when your eyes meet his. It makes him bristle internally. What was he supposed to do? You were in danger, and the way you screamed will follow him into his nightmares.

He could have lost you just now. You could be the one soaking in a puddle of your own blood, losing your life to the press of nothing more than a flimsy metal blade. While Homelander has always been logically aware of your humanity and the tender vulnerability that entails, nothing has ever put it so viscerally in the forefront of his mind as a freak incident coming so close to erasing you from his life.

He did what he had to. You'll understand. You have to understand.

"Hey," he says, hands raised to you placatingly, as if coaxing a spooked wild animal. The blood just makes his crimson gloves look glossy. He blocks your view of the body. "Hey, it's alright."

Your terror is palpable in the race of your heart and the sour smell of adrenaline coursing through you.

He reaches for you with the hand that isn't drenched in viscera, but before he can take hold, you beat him to the punch, throwing yourself into his arms, your own wrapping tight around his middle, hands clasping together beneath his cape.

Caught off guard, Homelander's arms hover awkwardly for a beat before he returns your embrace. He'd been certain that he was the source of your fear after a display like that.

"He just-he tried to kill me," you rasp, tears overflowing, spilling down your cheeks, wetting his suit further. "Yeah, yeah he sure did. S'alright, he's not gonna hurt you again," he coos, stroking your back with one bloodied hand, the other cupping the back of your neck. He kisses the top of your head as you cry, working the shock and fear from your system. "Ssshhh, shhshh."

Looking over his shoulder once, he lifts you up into his arms and takes off gently into the night sky, keeping you gathered close as he flies, carrying you far away from the mess spilled all over the pavement.

Not his problem. His focus is you.

With your face buried in the crook of his neck, he can feel your tears rolling down into the collar of his suit, can smell the sea salt sweetness of them. He's never let you see that side of him before. When the shock wears off, will you see the moment for what it was?

Will you realize how much he enjoyed it?

Landing on his balcony, your arms are still tight around his neck. Neither of you have said a word since take off. He's not sure where your head is, other than the fact your racing heart has slowed to a more natural—albeit still nervous—patter.

Inside, he sets you down gently on your feet. Your balance wavers, and he settles you with his hands on your hips, staining your clothing with smears of dark blood.

He's almost afraid of breaking the tenuous quiet, but he needs to know where your head is. When you glance away, are you looking towards the door, planning your escape?

His hands tighten reflexively on your hips, and your eyes spring back up to meet his.

"You okay?" He asks quietly, warily.

"Yeah," you say, though it's hardly convincing.

"You're in shock," he says, touching the side of your face. Enough of the blood has been wiped on your clothes that it doesn't transfer much to your skin. "You remember what happened?"

Maybe your distress will leave you malleable enough for him to shape the incident just right. Make sure that you remember first and foremost that- "You saved me," you say, cutting his thoughts short. "That man was trying to hurt me, and you... you saved me."

His brows lift, surprised to hear you say it first. "Yeah. Course I did."

"You were so..." You trail off, gaze moving along his features.

Apprehension prickles from his spine all the way up to the back of his neck. He's accustomed to being scolded for his brutality by Madelyn, or looked on with thinly veiled disgust by Maeve.

They're both long gone from his life now, yet he finds himself waiting with bated breath for your response, his throat tight under the gripping hands of the ghosts of his past.

"Amazing," you exhale, banishing his specters with the sweeping wind of your breath. "God, I've never been that scared in my life, but you reacted so fast. No one has ever protected me like you do," you say, cupping his blood spattered face in your palms, smearing it into thin pink swaths across his skin with your thumbs.

He breaks into a slow, pleased smile. "Well, you've never been with anyone like me before."

"No," you agree. He can still feel a slight tremor in your hands, your body still coming down from the adrenaline high. "And I never will."

That strokes his ego deliciously. He likes the finality in your voice, the dreamy way you're looking at him, even as the smell of blood hangs heavily in the air. He almost kisses you before he remembers he's got the blood of some random thug all over his face.

"I need a shower," he says, lips close enough that his breath teases yours.

"Me too. Guess we'll have to share," you say, feigning resignation.

He grins. "Uh oh."

In the bathroom, Homelander makes quick work of undressing, but you're faster. You're already in the large shower, steaming water pouring down from above. He steps in with you, letting the water wash over you both. The water turns pink as it carries the blood away, and then sudsy as you both soap and shampoo the mess of the day from you bodies.

Once he's rinsed, he slips in behind you, wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling into the crook of your neck. "I love you," he says at your ear, trailing kisses down to the lobe, to your neck. He loves the feel of goosebumps rising against his lips.

"I love you, too," you respond as you have a thousand times before. Maybe more. He stopped counting when he was sure you'd never stop.

"How much?" He prompts, hungry for more. Your praise and assurance after a moment of such uncertainty has only made him desperate for more. He wants to wring more pretty words of admiration from you, hear more of just how good he is to you.

He can't help but color your answer with a slip of his hand between your thighs, toying with your clit.

The touch earns a shivering sigh from you. "So much. More than I can stand sometimes," you say, leaning your head back against his shoulder.

"I thought you'd be scared of me after seeing what you saw... What I'm capable of," he murmurs, pillowing the reminder with deft, wet fingers. "Are you?"

You shake your head. "No, m'not, mmm... You'd never hurt me," you say, breath hitching as his fingers slip in further, fingertips stroking the lips of your pussy.

"Never," he echoes, his other hand slotting over your throat just to feel each noise you make. He pulls you back flush to his body, presses his hardening cock to the curve of your ass with his a shaky groan. "I liked it," you admit quieter, moaning when he slides his middle finger inside you. The confession stirs something primal in him, makes him growl out a rough little noise against your skin, grinding his cock into you.

"I wanted to rip his fucking guts out for touching you," he says, working another finger into you, savoring the slick, velvet feel of you around them. "For trying to take you from me." His words make your cunt quiver. He can't help himself, has to pull them from you just to taste you, sucking the nectarine sweet flavor from his fingers, rolling his tongue between them, hungry for every ounce of it.

He moans around his own fingers when you reach back and take his cock firmly in your hand, jerking him slowly. "I want you inside me," you say, your legs spreading slightly, back arching into him. "Touch me until yours is the only one I remember."

Fuck. Yes, that he can do.

You let go of his cock, and he wraps an arm around your waist, guiding himself between your wet, soft thighs. You close your legs, earning a breathy noise from him as he rocks between them, the warm, wet heat of your cunt a tease along the top of his cock.

"Take me," he murmurs fervently at your ear. "Wanna be in you, feel you, fuck you, make your pussy mine."

Shuddering against him, you reach down between your legs. Pressing your fingers to the underside of his cock, you push it up as he moves forward, the thick head of it catching on your entrance and splitting you open in one long, slow thrust.

Christ, you're so fucking tight. He can feel your muscles contracting, flexing, pulling him deeper. Your cunt feels made for him.

No one will ever take you away from him.

His right hand goes across your chest, cupping your left breast and rolling your nipple between his thumb and index finger while he braces you tighter to him. He rolls his hips slowly at first, relishing the tight, slippery pull of your cunt before he begins to pick up a proper pace.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" He grits out, the slap of naked skin against skin loud in the shower. "Tell me how good it feels."

"Feels like being fucked by the fucking sun," you moan, gripping his arms, useless for anything other than taking his cock when he holds you like this. "Hot, you're so hot inside me, and I can feel... I can feel you holding back, it's like you're vibrating," you say, voice catching with every solid thrust. "It's like... it's like getting as much as I can take from something so much bigger than me."

He doesn't know what he expected to hear, but it isn't that. The idea that you can feel the true gravity of his power behind each restrained thrust drives him wild, makes him want to give you more, but he knows he can't. Not without breaking you. Sweet, frail, human thing that you are.

If he could, he would break you apart, fuck you until you fall to pieces in his hands, and then he would put every single fragment back where it belongs, but he can't. If he breaks you, he will lose you.

He needs you to survive him.

"Fuck, fuck," he rasps, holding you that slight bit tighter, lifting you nearly off your feet as he arches his back, lifting and dropping you onto every thrust of his hips. "M'gonna come," he says, voice reedy. "Come with me, let me feel you. I know you're close, can fuckin' feel it. Touch yourself for me, sweetheart."

Immediately, you drop a hand to your clit, the tips of your fingers brushing where he's pounding into you. The touch must be electric because you jolt against him. "I am, I am," you whine, rubbing yourself, the pleasure making you squirm.

"M'gonna count us down, alright? And you, mmmgh, you're gonna come with me," he says, already fighting to hold himself back. Your cunt is only getting tighter the closer to release you get, making it hard for him to stay focused.

"Five... four," he manages to say, desperately holding onto his final tethers of control. You're beyond speech now, reduced to nothing more than desperate, needy noises as you finger your clit, not even bothering to try and hold yourself up while Homelander mercilessly bounces you on his cock,

"Three... two..." His words are strained, balls drawn up tight, cock throbbing in the slick grip of your cunt. He needs to come so bad it makes his toes curl, but he won't let go until he feels you coming undone.

"One..."

One, two, three more thrusts, and you're screaming his name, knees curling up, your whole body tightening like a vice. The spasm of your orgasm rips his clean out of him, has him gasping into the crook of your neck.

He comes so hard his vision goes white, every movement halting, his focus purely on the ardent pounds of his cock emptying deep inside you, flooding you so thoroughly that the excess spill back down his shaft, his balls, mingling with the hot water and making him shiver from head to toe.

When he can, he takes in a deep, shuddering breath, easing his hold on you, though not by much. You're all but limp in his arms, panting, head lolled back against his shoulder. He lets the water run on the two of you a little while longer, savoring the aftershocks of your release before gingerly slipping out of you.

Carefully, he rubs the water between your thighs, tenderly cleaning you, kissing your neck, your shoulder.

"That was..." You trail off, words half slurred, and then you just laugh softly, the marvel clear in your voice.

He laughs, too, his own voice frayed. "Sure was."

The two of you put as much effort as it takes to get dry before making your way to bed, slipping beneath the cool sheets and rapidly warming them with your bodies, Homelander's in particular. He's always run hot, and you seem extra appreciative for it tonight, wrapping your arms around his waist and snuggling into his arms.

"I love you," you mumble sweetly.

Homelander draws the covers up over your shoulders before slipping his arm around you, drawing you into the warm, safe circle of his arms. "And I love you," he purrs, gently rolling his knuckles up and down your back.

You look peaceful, he thinks, watching as you begin to drift to sleep. He's sure it helps that he wore you out so thoroughly, but still, he'd anticipated that the shock of the evening would still have you worked up. It could be that you're still processing, that the trauma will return in nightmares that follow you into the night.

Maybe the threat of a rat simply makes less of an impact when you're cradled in the jaws of a lion.

Regardless, should you sleep fitfully or peacefully, he will be here.

No force in this would can keep him from you.

[greykolla-art]

We need more of the werewolf girlfriend. (Pretty please?)

Oh no, Don’t ask about my foster oc’s I can’t be normal about them!😱❤️

Her name is Mús (mouse) and I’m still trying to nail down her design!😂

Here she is with her tiny bastard boyfriend ,Vespríus.👇

My author friend created them so they are just my foster children, but I love them so much!

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

got a little carried away with this one... outfit sent by @chocolategothwolfhorse <3

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I have greatly enjoyed your comics ever since i saw them and have been quietly Iurking as ya do- thought youd want to know that i played hollow knight based on how enthusiastic u were and how fuckin cool youre art of hk/mdzs is. OH and watched dungeon meshi. Your influence is vast and i have been enriched. Keep on keepin on 🫡

You have bestowed the highest honour upon me.

[sillystringpony]

I love your art so much. Oh my god your art is beautiful. I would read an 100 page long comic in your style. I would watch an 1000 episode long series in your style. I want to eat your art dear gosh. This is not ok. Why would you do this? Why would you make such good art and allow me to bare witness to it? I'm gonna be obsessed with your art now. Good job.

Couldn't find an oc of yours so I drew silly smothering wally darling because somebody needed to get hugged after I read your kind words 😭😭😭😭

[shrimparts-blog888]

Me: Yayy a dappling user :D

My head:

(P.s nice art style💕)

(Also thank youuu 😭💖)

[sugarsnappeases]

kara i wanna know allllll about your reg. tell me EVERYTHING <3

so obvs canonically pretty much the only thing we know about reg is his betrayal of voldemort and the cause etc etc so i like to centre that in most of my thoughts about him……

he joins the death eaters bc he’s a loser w a freakish voldemort obsession who has like three friends and bc he’s lonely and he hates sirius and he wants to spite him by joining the group to which he’s so opposed. he wants to prove sirius wrong and prove himself right and i believe wholeheartedly that, even if he was influenced somewhat by the way he was raised and by the circles he runs in, he joined the death eaters completely of his own volition!!! i’m passionate about this!!! i think it destroys the nuance of his character to say that he was forced to join or that he joined w the intention to betray them all along or whatever . to me, he was fucking gagging to be a death eater and he’s so smug when he’s allowed in. i picture him ranting to barty and evan about ‘the great honour that has been bestowed upon him’ whilst lovingly stroking his dark mark

anyway, then he gets scared. he’s just a boy!!! and he realises he’s in too deep when it’s far too late… to me he just can’t stand the violence of the death eaters. like he’s a blood purist and further than that thinks he personally is superior to pretty much everyone else, on account of his black blood, but he hates that he has to get his hands dirty in order to see his idealised vision of the world (sans mudbloods and blood-traitors) realised…. he’s soft and weak and squeamish and lonely and always so so miserable at all times as a rule. he also tries to hide how scared he is by being a massive bitch. classic.

then he realises that tom has a horcrux (and imo he would figure this out fairly easily after the kreacher thing, bc he’s smart but also bc tom read about them in a book in the HOGWARTS LIBRARY!! so it’s not much of a stretch to say that the same book and probs further, more detailed books would be in the library at grimmauld, likewise in most of the darker pureblood family libraries…. this is another thing i’m passionate about. horcruxes aren’t this big secret. nobody makes them bc nobody’s a fucking idiot like tom is. they’re also warned off properly by their rents. tom doesn’t have this…. ANYWAY) he realises tom has a horcrux and that the guy he’s idolised and basically sold his soul to is fucking bonkers (shameless self promo - i write a bit about this realisation in the regulus letter in my fic ‘where can i put it down?’…. makes me crazy) and he’s scared and alone and he wants out and he does the one brave thing of his life in dying…..

and he doesn’t think it’s a brave thing. he tells himself that sirius was a coward for running away and betraying them and specifically him. he tells himself he’s being brave, braver and better than sirius, when he’s like sticking it out, joining the death eaters, following the role prescribed to him, so when he decides he’s gonna go to the cave it’s like giving up, it’s being a coward, its admitting to himself that he’s never been better than sirius no matter how much he want or tries to be, it’s betraying the cause and everything he’s stood for but he HAS to do it. for sirius and for kreacher and for himself and for the chance that maybe he’s not past saving. he spends his whole life trying to be good but in the sense of behaving and then his death, his first (and last) real rebellion, is the only time that he actively attempts to be good in terms of a moral act even if it has nothing to do w a renouncement of blood purity. and i don’t think he fully realises that when he does it bc it’s all so tangled up in other things. and i’m not saying that he’s like morally reprehensible the rest of the time (he’s just a boyyyy) but the majority of his active choices have been kinda bad ones up to this point even if he’s been like . passively good . and also literally just a child. an angsty teen if you will

his life is marked by inaction and bad decisions and his final act is kinda the antithesis of this and it’s tragic bc he’s not ever going to survive it. and sirius is never gonna know. it makes me miserable. does any of this even make sense lmaooo basically he’s a loser and he misses his brother and he’s so lonely and he loves sirius so much even as he hates him and he’s quiet and he wants so desperately to be a good death eater bc this is everything he’s ever wanted but he just can’t in the end!!! he’s just a boy!!! a boy who would nurse birds with broken wings back to health and cry when they flew away, a boy who would hold his brother’s hand and hang on every word he says and exist almost entirely in sirius’ shadow until said shadow is suddenly gone and he’s left reeling, a boy who’s so so soft and gentle but who hides it all behind layers of barbs and cold remarks, a boy who is desperately desperately sad and scared and GOD I LOVE HIM……

[reinbouxsworld]

🐰For the ask game

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection? For Yuno x Leona💖💖💖💖

(THANKS FOR SENDING THE ASK HONEY<3)

7. Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

Since I see Yuno as a big touchstarved bug, I can definitely say it's physical affection for her. Just being close with Leona honestly makes her feel better if anything, and I don't think he will complain about having a exclusive weight blanket 🫢🫣

But Leona (even if I die on the hill that this man is the biggest on quality time), I just KNOW he gets flustered at words of affirmation when he's in a relationship, even more if someones pretty bold like Yuno, who doesn't actually thinks too much before speaking her mind out loud. So he pretty much prefers verbal affection. Bonus points if it is alone so he doesn't have to pretend that it didn't affect him.

She's so supportive that sometimes he just can't.

[blindmagdalena]

outnumbered twin girls dadlander is the best i can't stop thinking of him experiencing the toddler unconditional love and affection like those choppy selfmade postcards on father's day and and them running to him after the daycare and babbling how their day went and 😭😭 him hosting a barbecue in one of those "good looking is cooking" aprons and his silly face expression everytime he looks at his (chubby) wife in awe because she gave this family to him and jfnfnfnfn

also one of the girls hiccuping and accidentally shooting lasers through the wall and maybe even killing somebody and he's just in awe and love and maybe crying because she's so him

the toddlers with superpowers is the best part of this because i keep thinking about him having to catch stray laser beams or move his wife out of the way when one of the girls sneeze because there is just a constant risk of them exploding or vaporizing something 😂

[darlingillustrations]

💃 Join 💃 My 💃 Patreon 💃

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[inklessletter]

dOnT you DaRe RePoSt My ArT oR fEeD iT tO AI.... babes, your art isn't good enough for people to take the time to do that. You're safe. And threatening to DMCA a bunch of TUMBLR USERS for "stealing" your mediocre fan art? Classic uppity self-important Tumblr tard that starts drama everywhere but demands nO aRt CrItIcIsM and a safe space. You know that Tumblr won't do jack shit, you just like pot-stirring. It's always the painfully mid artists that kick up such a fuss. What a joke.

here, your moment of glory dear anon 😘

[wally-news-12-official]

I drawded you Home :3

📡: "Oh my!! I look absolutely dashing, dear viewer!! I shall hang this up in...well, myself, HAHA!"

[sparklyslug]

hi! if you are still looking for prompts, steve/eddie, one of them cooking or otherwise preparing food for the other one. if you are not still looking for prompts, totally ok! either way, hope things are looking up for you.

Ask Steve a year ago what his favorite food was, he’d probably struggle with the question a little, internally. Say something simple like, a burger. Steak. Pizza. Just because he knows that’s like, what foods people like. Those are the Favorite Food Groups. And he likes them too, likes them plenty. Has just felt kind of food-neutral, honestly, for most of his life. He’s eaten fancy catering at his parents lavish dinner parties, buckets of KFC at modest kitchen tables, and his own simple chicken and broccoli standing up at the counter alone at the house. And felt kind of the same about all of it. Food was food, generally. Favorite didn’t really make sense, as a concept to apply to it. 

That was then, though. He gets it. He has a favorite food now. 

Eddie has tied his hair back with one of his banadas, shoulders on display and almost irresistible in one of the cutoff tanks he likes in the summer, this one an old Hawkins Basketball shirt of Steve’s that also has a hole right over the nipple (why he had initially stopped wearing it, and why Eddie had quickly claimed it before lopping the arms and a good four inches off the bottom of it, because he thinks shit like that is hilarious). The whole look is pretty well calculated to drive Steve out of his mind, a goal Eddie had made short work of just about an hour ago. 

He’d finally pulled himself up off Steve’s chest, face red and glowing, and shook his hair out of his eyes before saying “shit, I could eat. Grilled cheese sound good?”

It did sound good. Sounded fantastic. Sounded like Steve’s favorite food, is what it sounded like. 

So shirt’s back on and hair’s tied back, but Steve is keeping his hands to himself, just sitting back and watching Eddie at work. Head mercifully clear and nicely floaty, body feeling heavy and warm and right, and yeah, definitely ready for some food. 

He’s watched Eddie make his grilled cheese a hundred times or whatever, and he doesn’t get how it turns out so fucking good. It’s not a complicated process. Getting the pan warmed up, buttering both sides of a couple of creamy-white slices of bread. Four slices of plastic-wrapped cheese per sandwich, always, Eddie carefully tearing some of them in half to create even layers, not too much cheese stacked in the middle or at the ends. 

The butter smells amazing at the bottom of the pan. Smells fantastic when the bread hits it with a little pop, a tiny sizzle. 

Eddie’s gorgeous doe eyes are narrowed in concentration as he works, pressing the flat of a spatula down on the top of each sandwich. This is the stage at which Steve is least likely to catch an elbow, while Eddie is just watching the pan and waiting for the universe or some kitchen god to send him a signal that it’s time for the Almighty Flip. 

“Got a gig tomorrow, mmm?” Steve asks, sliding his arms around Eddie’s waist, and tucking his chin over one shoulder. 

“Eddie Munson, unplugged,” Eddie confirms. “Jesus I really have to try and find a band soon.”

“I’ll keep looking in the papers,” Steve promises, with a grin. 

“Send me on another synth-pop goose chase and I will absolutely shave you bald in your sleep,” Eddie swears, brandishing the spatula into the empty space in front of him, since he can’t reach Steve to swat him with it. Small victories. 

“Never again, I promise,” Steve lies. “Think that one’s ready.”

“It’s not,” Eddie says. “I’m nervous about playing acoustic, man.”

Steve knows he is, he’s been jittery about it ever since he confirmed with the organizer that he’d be playing the open mic. “You’ll kill it,” Steve says. Squeezes him a little tighter, enjoying Eddie’s little bitchy oof of protest. “You don’t need an amp to blow the roof off the place.”

Eddie ducks his head a little, shy and pleased. Steve presses his lips against the top notch of his spine, nosing Eddie’s hair out of the way to get to skin. 

Enjoys the way Eddie shivers a little, the skin at the back of his neck maybe extra sensitive because of how it’s covered all the time. It’s a theory Steve is happy to keep exploring for a good, long while. 

“Okay,” Eddie says, softly. “Now this one is ready.”

Steve peers over his shoulder. “I have no idea how you can tell that.”

Eddie shrugs, and Steve knows his face has got to be fucking smug as hell without even being able to fully see it. “What can I say,” he says. “I’m a man of many talents.”

Well, that’s just a fact, and Steve starts listing them in an undertone directly into Eddie’s ear, until Eddie is shifting a little in his arms, and laughing, and elbowing him out of the way just when Steve feels his breath catch, the shift in his hips– “sit the fuck down, you animal,” Eddie says, twisting enough to sink a hand in Steve’s hair and reel him in for a quick, sweet kiss. “Food first, seduction later.”

“You’re too good to me,” Steve says. It doesn’t… ah, fuck. It doesn’t come out even remotely like a joke. 

Eddie though, Eddie’s eyes just go soft. His full, gorgeous lips twist into a small smile. “Feeling’s mutual, sweetheart. Now. Plates and napkins, please.”

Steve obeys, though they don’t even really need them– Eddie slices the finished sandwiches into neat triangles on the cutting board, and hands one right off to Steve, still loitering and half-draped over him. The cheese is perfectly melted and gooey in the middle, the bread crisped just right and saturated with golden melted butter. The noise he makes at the first bite is genuine bliss, eyes closing to savor the taste. When he opens them again, Eddie’s holding the other half of the sandwich in his hands, eyes on Steve, mouth a little open like he’d lost track of what they were doing here. 

The noise Steve makes at the second bite, okay, that’s for show. And Eddie knows it, kicking a bare foot at his shin with a laugh. 

They polish off the sandwiches in no time at all. You want to savor something that perfect, Steve thinks, but it’s hard to take it slow when you know how good every bite will be. And when you know there’s a bed waiting for you at the end of it, a bed with Eddie Munson in it, and a whole afternoon stretched blissfully ahead of you both. 

Yeah. Favorite food. Grilled Cheese By Eddie Munson. No question.

[thetarttfuldickhead]

Jamie + food

Jamie isn’t terribly concerned about food. It’s not like he’d disparage a good meal or anything, but he’s not too bothered if food is just fuel rather than a taste sensation, you know? This might be the result of getting signed young and growing up used to eating whatever he’s told to eat – for most of his life, food has been a means to an end, turning him into the best footballer he could possibly be. If it tastes nice, that’s lovely, but that’s not his main concern, yeah?

That said, if someone (let’s say Roy, just a completely random example), were to cook him a meal that's consistent with his meal plan and fucking delicious… Well. Maybe Jamie would die. Just completely melt into a gooey puddle and then die. Not so much because the food itself, yeah, but because someone went to the trouble of doing that for him. He’d be nothing but hearteyes and Roy would be like eat your fucking whatever before it gets cold and Jamie would just keep staring at him, all adoring, and Roy would scowl and turn away and mutter last fucking time I cook for you but in his heart he’s already thinking of all the other things he might make Jamie.

[wikitpowers]

Hii

I've been listening to All This Time by Only The Poets for a few weeks and I just. can't shake the Kit vibes. Because you're the KitTy expert 😌:

Do you see the vision? Am I just so obsessed that I see them everywhere?

By the way, I looovee your Kit content, it makes waiting two years for twp more bearable : )

PS: here's the link to the song

AYO HOLD UP THIS SONG FUCKING SLAPS!!! ik ‘one more night’ by only the poets and i love it, but i didn’t listen to more of their stuff but ig i gotta start now??!?! this song is so cool and the lyrics??! fire.

avoidin’ the mirror, cause i can’t face that i gave you up - no bc that’s literally kit and ty when they’re apart this is messing up my heart 💔

i’ve run out of reasons to justify leavin’ - stop bc this is literally kit, like i bet he stays up at night and hates himself for leaving ty all the time and he questions whether he did the right thing :(

don’t you know that lately i’ve been dreamin’ of you and i - EXCUSE ME WHILE I CRY????? IK THEY DREAM ABOUT EACH OTHER AND FANTASIZE ABOUT BEING TOGETHER IM SOBBING

her arms round my body don’t do nothin’ for me - it’s giving kit and hazel noooo :(

i wanna call you, tell you, even after all this time - three years separated kitty vibes????? i wanna cry so badly, don’t mind me. it’s okay. i’m fine. totally.

thank u so much for introducing me to this song and calling me a kitty expert (ur so sweet i’m blushing) and i’m really glad you’re enjoying my kit posts🫶🏻

[httpiastri]

paul aron is the type of boyfriend to want to experience life to its absolute fullest with you. random late night drives windows down screaming your favorite songs, riding motorcycles in italy, seeing every piece of art in paris, DATES ON THE EIFFEL TOWER, water balloon/water gun fights on lake/beach days, BOAT DAYS, that go karting thing in tokyo where you can drive thru the streets as mario kart characters, midnight convenience store runs in japan, mukbang food trips in singapore, island hopping in the philippines, taking pottery classes, arcade dates, scuba diving, snorkeling in the keys, TRAVELING AND EXPLORING THE WHOLE WORLD TGT, literally “i’d do anything and go anywhere as long as i’m with you” 🥺🫶🏼 ugh paul aron you have no idea how much ily

ALSO he’d definitely let you pick out a movie on planes and then has to be absolutely sure that both your screens start at the same time so you can watch it together.

-🧸

aaaAAAA OKAY. idk how much of this i can say without frEAKING OUT. but you're soooo right…. i think paul is actually SUCH a sweet boyfriend, and he loves exploring stuff and… just living life with you, yk? like i feel like he radiates kind of the vibes of a low-key boyfriend who doesn't really care, he acts like nothing is really a big deal, and at first that kinda intimidates you because you think that's how he actually is…. but when you get to know him and realize that that's just the exterior/front he puts up?? wow you'll see what a cute and energetic boyfriend he is 🥺

and god he takes you on such fun dates…. all of the stuff you said and just like… you think he might not be enjoying the art galleries in paris, but then he squeezes your hand, pulls you closer and just whispers "you're more beautiful than all of these combined" like ?!?!?!?!?!!!!! out of nowhere 🫠🫠

god you wrote so many good examples, im so 😭 travelling with paul would be so so much fun and just….. god i wish i was able to experience it 💔 and i feel like he definitely insists on you coming with him when he travels for race weekends? like no matter where in the world, he's just like "i booked you a ticket" without even asking 🥺

AND NOOO NOT THE AIRPLANE MOVIES???? god now i cant stop thinking about flying with him… just like….. resting your head on his shoulder when you wanna nap, holding hands and him brushing his thumb along the back of your hand to help you stay calm, giving you little kisses to your forehead/top of your head…… and sharing headphones while listening to music, or him getting the stuff in your inflight meal that you don't like and vice versa, and playing little games against each other…… idk i just feel like since he's so used to flying, he'll do his best to just make sure you're having an alright time :(((