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#Anyways.... Happy pride month all!!!!
soldrawss · 11 months
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Nothing says pride like ice cream with the bestie 🍨💕🏳️‍🌈💚💛
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mahikoto · 11 months
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light is made up of lots of colors
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hoolay-boobs · 10 months
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I drew some stick figures
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blended-ice · 11 months
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Grandpa’s a little confused, but he’s got the spirit.
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rodolfoparras · 11 months
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Thinking about all the ways you can be intimate with Price that doesn’t involve having sex
One thing about Price is that he’s known for his love for hats. But very few people know the reason as to why he wears them in the first place.
Truth be told, more often than not, he will let his hair grow past the length that’s stated in haircut regulations. Curls will start forming at the back of his neck , unruly strands will stick to his temple as he sweats and if it’s a particularly windy day, wisps of hair will fall into his eyes and obscure his vision. So to cover up the fact that he’s clearly breaking regulations and to keep his hair in check, he’ll wear a hat on his head.
He always tells himself he’ll cut it short. Hell, he even goes out his way to take down the box of clippers from the shelf where they’ve been collecting dust for God knows how long. But every time he intends to cut it something comes up and he opts for wearing a hat instead.
However this time around, it’s a different story since inspection week is coming up and you’re the first to notice how long his hair has been getting lately.
As you lean in for a kiss, you feel the unruly strands of hair wrap around your fingers tips. You smile as you twirl them in your grasp, lips still kissing Price’s.
He pulls away, mirroring the smile on your face as he says “what are you smiling about?”
“Your hair’s been getting so long lately” you say as you run a hand through his hair, tugging lightly at the long strands as if to empathize your point.
His brows furrow, before a look of realization crosses his face “I guess it has, hasn’t it? I’ve been meaning to cut it, just haven’t gotten around to doing it,”
You nod as you continue to play with the hair at the back of his head, already aware of the box of clippers that’s been collecting dust on his desk “when’s inspection now again?”
“Next week. Cut it for me?”
The bathroom connected to his room is rather small, barely fits two people but you make it work as you sit down on the toilet seat while he sits down on the floor.
He sits so close you get a whiff of his cologne. The scent’s a familiar one, one you know not only by smell but also by name. It’s a cologne you’d spontaneously bought one day and had managed to use once or twice before it somehow ended up in Price’s hands. Now it’s a scent solely associated with him.
You can also smell the cigars he smokes. The scent is sickly sweet but also earthy- reminds you of mahogany much like the mahogany curls he's sporting at the moment.
You gently grab onto his shoulder, forcing him to shuffle closer. He’s now perfectly slotted between your legs, as you go to inspect his hair.
“Any special request ?” You ask as you card your fingers through his hair, carefully inspecting the length. The man lets out an appreciative sound at your gently touch before he shakes his head in response to your question.
“Just want it short?” You ask again, fingers still carding through his hair.
“Yes, please”
“What if I mess up ?” You joke as you continue to inspect the length.
“Don’t really care, I’ll wear a hat either way” he shrugs, and flashes you a smile over his shoulder.
“Alright” you say, before you reach down and gently grab onto the edge of his shirt “May I?” You ask, lips brushing his ear as you lean down to ask for permission.
He shivers at your touch, but nods his head at your question.
You gently pull the shirt off of him, leaving him in just the undershirt that he’s wearing. The sudden exposure to the chilly bathroom air has goosebumps raising on his skin and your hands quickly find his arms as you attempt to warm him up.
“Sorry” you say as you plant a kiss on his shoulder. He just smiles and shakes his head “it’s okay, not your fault yeah?”
You grab onto the box where his clippers lay and take out the one you needed for his hair. You quickly adjust the settings on it before bringing it to his head.
As you turn on the machine you feel the familiar buzz coursing through your fingertips. You try not to let your nerves get the best of you as you get ready to cut his hair for him. However, sweat still trickles down your spine, the clippers almost fall out of your hand and you have to take a deep breath and apologize beforehand in case this doesn’t go as planned.
You do the first swipe with the clipper and watch as strands of hair fall to his bare shoulders. You quickly take the brush that came with the kit and gently brush the hair away from his skin. He hums in content as he relaxes into your embrace
“Good?”
He nods with a giggle “tickles”
You chuckle at that as you continue to cut his hair, tufts of it steadily falling to the floor and sprinkling across his shoulder. You even see the loose strands of hair sprinkling onto the undershirt that he’s wearing. However Price doesn’t seem to mind it, seemingly relaxed as ever.
Nothing can be heard except for the steady buzz coming from the machine, along with the soft noises Price will give in response when you ask him something. He’s long given up on talking, mind and body too relaxed to bother with it.
Your hands are gentle as ever as they grab onto his chin, cheeks and temples, turning his head in whichever direction is needed at the moment. His eyes, although closed, flutter at the touch, as he chuckles at the ticklish feeling that comes from your hands.
However you still check up on him to make sure that you aren’t hurting him.
“Am I hurting you?” You ask as you bring the clipper a bit closer to his ears. “Is this okay” You ask again when you fear you’re holding too tightly onto him. You even drop a “you tell me if I’m doing anything to hurt you yeah?” when you notice the flush on his skin.
Sometimes Price responds with a hum, sometimes with a nod and sometimes with the shake of his head (You almost have the mind to scold him for his careless movements but you allow him to do so anyway)He even chuckles at the last sentence as if saying not you, never you and that’s all the reassurance you need to continue cutting his hair for him.
At some point he does talk - asks if he can go for a smoke and of course you allow him to do so. If you smoke he’ll let you take a couple of puffs of his cigar. However he’ll use this as an excuse to steal a kiss since every time you lean in to put the cigar between your lips, he’ll place a kiss on your lips. If you don’t smoke he’ll have you light his cigar for him. He’ll playfully pulls you closer by your wrist, as you go to light his cigar for him, callused thumb mindlessly stroking it while you light it for him.
He stays in your embrace while smoking his cigar, enjoying your presence and your gentle touch.
From the bathroom window you can see that the sun is starting to set and the clouds of smoke that whirl around in the air become more prominent.
Price hooks his arm around your leg and mindlessly drags his hand along your thigh while he smokes his cigar.
“Thank you for doing this for me, love” he says and despite the clouds of smoke that swirl around in the air, you can still see the grateful smile on his face.
“No need to thank me ” you chuckle as you continue to cut his hair for him.
Once it’s done, you hand him a small mirror so that he can take a look at his hair. He takes a brief look in the mirror before he turns to you with a big smile on his face.
“It looks great,”
Truth be told he barely looked at his hair, didn’t see the crooked line or the uneven patches around his head (not that he would mind if he were to notice it anyway). All he saw in that very moment was your reflection in the mirror, the way you nervously chewed your lip, and the hopeful look in your eyes as you waited for him to comment on his new haircut.
Once it’s inspection day you’re back in that very same bathroom with him. He’s looking at himself in the mirror while you’re standing behind him with a comb in hand. His hair is still short and will surely pass inspection but you still want to comb and style it for him, claiming he needs to look professional and well groomed, seeing as he’s the captain.
“There, all done” you say with a smile on your face, finally feeling satisfied with the look of his hair. All of sudden he turns around, hands gently grabbing onto your hips before he pulls you closer to him. You’re still looking at his hair, searching for any imperfections that need to be corrected while he’s watching you with an adoring gaze. Once you spot a strand out of place, you lick the pad of your thumb before gently slicking it back with the rest of his hair.
You go to pull your hand away but before you can do so he gently wraps his hand around your wrist and brings your hand closer to his lips before he kisses it.
“Thank you again, love”
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cyellolemon · 11 months
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Hiiii here is a collection of many Detective Conan (moslty with Rei let's be honest) shitpost i drew.. enjoy!!
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I have so much fun drawing these jhdsjsdsd i love the characters so much </33 the multiship is very real btw
I hope that this post will found 2-3 decto fans and that they're gonna find this funny!!!
(the Kazami and Yoko's comic can look really out of context if you haven't read Hannin no Hanzawa-san but in that spin off Kazami actually tell her and Hanzawa that he works with someone who is perfect..)
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ratstuckinamarble · 10 months
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If you're transphobic she'll slay you.
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glitchdollmemoria · 9 months
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do people who disregard photosensitivity realize that seizures can fucking kill or do they just not care. do people not realize that their "aesthetic" "cool" flashing lights that happen without SUFFICIENT warning... are fucking capable of killing people. i dont even care if i sound pissy right now because i am pissy, im sick of feeling like myself and others with epilepsy arent even afforded the right to be an afterthought to most people. im not even photosensitive but ffs this shit makes me so angry.
seizures themselves can be deadly if they go on too long, theyre essentially electrical overloads in the brain, you know, that organ that controls the entire rest of the body? and seizures can result in injuries or death from falls. from choking on our own vomit. from drowning in our own bathtubs, if we think we might be safe to bathe and then get proven wrong. maybe someone just wanted to watch a video or movie while they took a spa day.
did you know that epileptics are more likely to die younger than those without epilepsy, with all those risks and more? and have you heard of SUDEP? sudden unexpected death in epilepsy, death without a known cause, a rare but very real possibility for us. it kills approximately 1 in 1000 epileptics a year, if not more since it may not be accurately tracked. thats thousands of us dead a year. we do not need you to add to our death rates.
"all these things are known risks, epileptics just have to be more careful-" epileptic people should not have to be on constant fucking high alert. how about instead, people just learn to give a shit about life threatening disabilities? it takes so little effort to just offer a CLEAR and VERY OBVIOUS warning AHEAD OF TIME, for a SIGNIFICANT AMOUNT OF TIME, before your stupid flashing lights. or just dont add them at all. are they necessary? are they really necessary? would you really fucking rather photosensitive epileptics have to be constantly on guard, IMPOSSIBLY on guard, rather than you just considering their safety? nobody can anticipate every instance of unexpected flashing lights they might come across. but you, creators, are able to provide warnings, and if for any reason you arent, then hire someone else to edit the warnings in or just get rid of the fucking lights altogether.
again, my epilepsy is not photosensitive, but i will never stop being protective of my photosensitive siblings. my own life is scary enough with the form of epilepsy i have, i cannot imagine how terrifying it must be to have to maneuver through the world with photosensitivity, and i dont want careless assholes to go killing my fucking community because you dont give enough of a shit to worry epileptic people. i am pissed off and emotionally exhausted and the shit with elon musk having a flashing gif on his twitter account was the straw that broke my back today so youre getting a pissed off PSA. everyone better start doing a whole damn lot better.
link to the CDC page about SUDEP
link to the epilepsy foundation site page about seizure risks
people without epilepsy are encouraged to reblog but know that i am already angry and will not tolerate bullshit on this post. give a fuck about other peoples lives and safety or im blocking you.
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munadrawson · 11 months
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💓🐙🤏🦑
Click and Open images for HQ! [Commission OPEN] | [Cheap-bi Commission OPEN] | [Ko-fi] | [Twitter] | [Instagram]
The first comic is a response to how I drew that kiss. Supposed to be a stand-alone comic. The rest follow suit to the absurdity of the first one. ***Footnotes on cultural contexts are in the alt texts.
BONUS:
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dropthedemiurge · 11 months
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Claiming for your own convenience that people's lives are illegal and shouldn't be talked about in our days is such a terrible bs joke🙃
Be yourself no matter what. Happy Pride Month 🏳️‍🌈
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michinnyun · 2 years
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Fashion Choices
Pairing: Steven Grant x f!Reader, Marc Spector x f!Reader
Summary: You've been giving Steven a hard time about his wardrobe lately. It's not that you don't like when he wears a collared shirt on top of another collared shirt, you just want him to try new things. Then him and Marc decide to tease you about it. Big mistake. Huge. // Chapter 1 is only with Steven. Chapter 2 will be for Marcy-Marc
Tags: Sharing Clothes × Lingerie × Teasing × Established Relationship × Pure Smut × Sub Steven Grant (Marvel) × If You Squint × Dom/sub Undertones × Masturbation × p in v × Enthusiastic Consent × Breeding Kink × No use of y/n × Woman on Top × for the majority of it lol × Multiple Orgasms × Unprotected Sex × Rough Sex
Words: 2.8k
Ao3 link
Steven has a lot of collared shirts. Like, a lot of them.
“You dress like a lesbian,” you tell him one day, laughing when you see that he's layered one of his button ups on top of another collared shirt.
He scoffs. “I can’t believe you just said that to me during Pride month.”
He manages to dodge the book thrown at his head, but he isn't able to dodge your questions after that.
“Why did I find another collared shirt in your bag?” you ask, showing him the reusable bag he'd brought to the shop earlier that day.
He pouts. “That’s for Marc.”
You can’t help but smile at him. He’s adorable. “Nice try. Marc almost exclusively wears crew necks.”
He doesn't meet your eyes. “Jake, then.”
“Jake dresses like a newsie in 1920’s New York.”
Steven groans. “Would you deny me my comforts, woman?” He pulls you into his lap, peppering kisses to your face that make you scream and laugh, trying to escape.
“I just want you all to try branching out!”
His eyes roll back into his head, Marc staring back at you now, intense as always. “Why would we want to do that?” he asks, pressing searing hot kisses into your neck.
The sudden shift in persona and mood makes you dizzy. You don't know if you'll ever get used to them doing that.
You gasp softly, grabbing onto the crinkly-soft fabric of Steven-Marc's starchy shirt.
“Marc,” you murmur, letting him trail a hand down your side. You haven't seen him in a while, and he’s clearly happy to see you, based on the way he's insistently pressing himself into you.
“Baby,” he mumbles back, licking a line up your neck to your earlobe, a white hot spike of arousal shooting down to your clit. You arch against him, letting him lift you and press you into the table, his hand riding up your shirt and teasing a nipple. You can feel how wet he’s making you, the way only your boys can. He laces your fingers together and kisses the back of your hand, ducks down to kiss your neck again-
Then, he stills. “Anyway, lots of work to do today, love. Better hop to it!”
Steven pulls away from you and grabs his stuff, leaving you stunned and frustratingly horny as he heads towards the door.
“W-wh-” you stutter.
“Don’t question my fashion choices!” he shouts, letting the door shut behind him. You narrow your eyes, huffing.
Oh, he’s in for it now. __
Your boys aren't coming over until later. It’s been two days since the Steven-Marc situation, and you won’t even let them sext you. The moment anything remotely sexual starts up, you shut it down. They’re getting restless. Steven especially. He’s always been particularly needy.
The boutique owner had been terribly nice when you'd explained your situation (minus the “my boyfriends’s’s are a superhero/Avatar/legendary warrior with multiple personality disorder” detail). You’d picked out the prettiest piece together, a delicate lace thing with more modest coverings for your private areas. Something that would drive Steven perfectly crazy.
“If I’ve done my job right, this won't survive the night,” she promised.
You’re slightly fidgety. You've never worn something this complicated before. Nothing for the express purpose of getting fucked.
It doesn't matter, really. Your boys can't resist you. That’s what's going to make this so much fun.
One of Steven’s many button ups is covering your lingerie, which had taken twenty minutes of cursing for you to put on. It’s a soft, purple shirt, your personal favorite. He’d been wearing it the first time you met.
You’re reading a book, or trying. You’ve been skimming the same page over and over in nervous anticipation ever since you got the text he’s almost at your flat.
He knocks on the door, and you answer in nothing but his shirt, your hair done in the way you know he loves. He always makes a comment when you wear it like this, so you made sure it was perfect before he came over.
He kind of just stares at you for a minute, taking you in. Then, something happens, something you've only seen a few times before. They start fighting over the body.
“I don’t- she clearly. This is- Marc. Steven. You-Why d-I- Jake, if you don't- Why can’t I, guys-”
He’s saying this all softly, eyes closed in concentration. You don't want to touch him. You don't want him to have a panic attack, and then have your attempt at revenge/seduction turn into something traumatic.
Finally, he settles, and Steven looks at you with wide, wet eyes.
“Is this- for me?” He swallows hard, looking at the way the fabric drapes over your body, just a little too big for you. You nod sweetly, leading him to bed.
He lies back at your insistence, staring up at you in awe as you straddle him, smiling teasingly.
His hand starts to slide up your thigh, but you swat at it.
“No touching,” your murmur, starting to unbutton yourself for him. He nods, swallowing again.
As the beginnings of your surprise are revealed, you realize he might not be the only one who has a problem with this no touching rule.
They’re fighting over the body again.
“If you’d just- Steven, look at her, I can’t- Stop.” Steven says firmly. You quirk an eyebrow.
“Everything alright in there?”
He nods, looking slightly miffed. “Just- you look really, really good, love. Really good. Don’t feel like sharing right now.”
You blush, then wiggle a little. Steven hisses, clenching his hands into fists. Fuck, he's already hard.
He whines when you finish unbuttoning the shirt, letting the fabric pool at your elbows, letting him drink his fill of your new outfit.
He’s slack jawed, mindlessly moving his hips against you. “Fuck,” he whimpers, letting the word trail off into a growl that ends deep in his throat.
His hands are getting fidgety, so you take the opportunity while he’s distracted to grab onto his wrists and pin them next to his head.
“You’re right Steven,” you purr. “I do actually like your shirts. Maybe I’ll wear them more often.”
He throws his head back, groaning. “I knew that's what this was bloody about, you little minx.”
You laugh, grinding down again bodily and making him gasp.
“That’s what you get for being a fucking tease. You can touch when I’m done with your punishment.”
If Steven’s eyes weren't so dark, you're sure you'd be able to see how his pupils are blown wide with lust. He looks ravenous, depraved. You haven't even kissed him.
“Yes,” he murmurs, even as he struggles against your grip.
You let him go, and hum happily when his hands stay in place.
You unbutton his pants, licking your lips as you pull out his cock, hard and leaking for you. You smear a pearl of precome weeping from the tip, relishing the sounds he makes.
You lean down, letting the crotch of your lingerie grind over his hard length. “You’re so mean to me sometimes, Steven. Just wanted to be a little mean back. Give you a taste of your own medicine.”
He whimpers. “Not trying to be mean. Just-just-”
“Just?” you ask, slowing down until he gasps and his hands twitch.
“Just wanted to prove a point,” he finishes lamely, arching his back so he can press up into you. You tsk at him, but allow it.
“Wanna take this off, pretty boy?” you ask, running your hands over the lace covering your plush breasts.
He nods frantically, craning his neck up so he can see a little better, get a little closer. You push him down with one hand, increasing the friction on your clit while you press a chaste kiss to his mouth.
“Later. Good boys get to undress me,” you hum, grinding down and chasing the rush of him pressing against your most sensitive spot. His eyes flutter shut, finally surrendering to you.
“Steven,” you murmur, kissing the corner of his mouth, traveling down his neck and sucking marks into his skin.
He grunts a response, too far gone to really answer you. You leave your tongue over the salt-heat of him, listening to his rattling breaths and stuttering heartbeat.
“You’re doing so good,” you murmur against his neck. “My good boy.”
His hips jerk violently against you, and you stop moving completely. He freezes.
“I’m sorry,” he says frantically, but it's too late.
“Nope,” you say, popping the p. You spread your legs, hovering over him and moving your panties to the side so you can rub your clit.
Steven’s mouth hangs open, devastated yet unbelievably turned on.
“Now you get to watch me come,” you say, gathering some of the wetness leaking from his tip to soften the friction. “And you can't do anything about it.”
He whines, shutting his eyes closed and growling in frustration. You spread yourself wider, letting your legs rest on the tops of his thighs.
Steven loves making you come. With his mouth, his fingers, his cock. Masturbating in front of him is still hot, but it frustrates him more than anything that he’s not the one making you feel good. Little does he know, the sight of him all hot and bothered is usually what gets you there faster. Like right now.
You feel it starting to bubble up, a deliciously warm orgasm that you’ve been depriving yourself of for days since the shirt incident. It takes a little while, but you finally peak, your fingers bringing you to completion at the sight of Steven Grant, helpless and completely distraught underneath you.
You lean forward until you're burying your face in his neck again, your thigh muscles still contracting pleasantly.
Steven hesitates, his hands moving from where they're meant to be to gently hold your waist. You purr, nuzzling into him so he knows he has permission. You're much more agreeable now that you know he’s suffered sufficiently enough.
He kicks his pants off the rest of the way, still gentle, careful not to disturb you in your good mood. You move a little, unbuttoning his shirts until the smooth expanse of his chest is warm under your palm.
“We’re matching,” you murmur happily. He chuckles nervously, one hand moving to cup the lace covering your bottom.
“This for me?”
You nod. “Don’t question my fashion choices,” you say, nipping at his ear lobe.
“Of course not. Never,” he says, running a hand over your garter belt appreciatively.
He reaches behind to move your panties aside, dipping shaking fingers into the wetness you’ve made for him. “Fuck,” he whispers, practically throbbing against you.
“You can go ahead,” you tell him, yawning. “Want you to. Want you inside, Steven.”
“Fuck,” he says a little louder, grabbing his cock where it's trapped between your bodies and sliding it between your legs to bring it home.
He lets out a breath he's been holding in, and you bloom under his fingers, legs widening to accommodate his girth. You’ve had enough teasing, and it looks like Steven has too.
He fucks you at a brutal pace, whining and gasping into your hair while you press sloppy kisses into his jaw.
“So good,” you whisper, encouraging him. “So good. My Steven.”
“I- hah, love you. Fuck.” The easy glide of him inside you isn't enough to make you come again quite yet, but you give a valiant effort. You suck at the tender spot under his ear, the one you know drives him crazy, and his hips stutter.
“Pretty girl, wearing my clothes and putting on nice things. Don’t deserve you, do I? So good to me,” he murmurs into your ear, one arm holding you close while he uses his other hand to push down on your lower back, using you as his little cocksleeve.
“Steven,” you gasp, grinding down harder onto him until you feel blissfully over sensitive, the fabric of his shirts rubbing against your skin while he fucks you hard, the way he’s been waiting to for days.
He groans out your name before he bites down on your neck. You mewl, bearing down on him before you sit back so you can ride Steven properly. He hangs onto your thighs for dear life as you move in earnest, pulling off him fully before slamming back down onto the length of him.
He brings his hands up to cup at the intricate lace designs covering your breasts, snapping the strap of your bra before he thrusts into you so hard that you can feel him in your guts.
“Fuck, can’t get enough of this little pussy,” he says, watching himself disappear into your tight heat. He moves a hand down, pressing a thumb to your abused clit and making you black out a little.
“S-Steven,” you stutter, no longer able to conjure competent speech, not when he touches you like that.
“Yeah, you like it when I touch you? Should’ve let me earlier. Even if you were mad at me,” he rambles, rubbing tight circles that make pleasure travel up your spine.
“Wasn't mad,” you whine. “Just wanted r-revenge. And I-I-” You can’t think about anything other than Steven’s hands on you, bringing you to the precipice of another sorely needed orgasm.
“I know, love,” he coos. “You got what you wanted. Now let me get mine.”
Your head tips back a little before Steven pulls one of the cups of your bra down, sitting up and sucking a pert nipple into his mouth. Your chest is still criss-crossed by straps and covered in lace, and Steven is clearly frustrated by the extra covering which he had found so sexy earlier.
“Steven,” you say breathlessly. “Gonna come again, I-”
“It’s okay,” he mouths against your skin. “You can come. Come all over my cock, love. Wanna feel it.”
He flicks his tongue against your tight bud, and you’re overwhelmed by sensation. Just a little-
You reach your hand down to give your clit a little more attention, and finally your second orgasm of the night claims you.
You milk Steven, making him choke and moan against you as your head tilts back and you cry out into the empty apartment.
Then Steven does something that you didn’t expect. He rips your panties off of you.
“Steven,” you gasp, despite remembering what the boutique owner had said about your outfit not lasting the night. “Those were expensive.”
He flips you over, pulling out and rubbing his cock between your folds. “I'll buy you a new pair,” he says, melding his mouth to yours before he pushes in again.
If you thought he was giving it his all before, you were mistaken. Steven’s fucking you at a punishing, brutal pace, pulling at the straps of your lingerie until one by one they all snap off of you and you’re left bare in nothing but shredded lace and his button-up.
You whine, the result of two orgasms making Steven’s conquest an easy slide. Your eyes roll back into your head a little. He’s relentless, insatiable, biting the meat of your bottom lip and licking into your mouth, fucking you so well that you know you’re going to be thinking about it for weeks.
“Can’t get enough of you,” he stutters. “I’m never going to get enough of you. Fuck. Fuck. I-I’m gonna-”
“Come in me,” you beg. “Steven, Steven, come inside.”
He looks into your eyes. “You want me to come inside? Fill you up? B-breed you?”
You wrap your legs around his back and pull him closer into you, making the angle deeper. He groans, wet sloppy sounds accompanying his increasingly quickening thrusts.
“Come in me, Steven,” you kiss his cheek. “Come in me. Breed me. Please, please.”
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-”
He pulses inside you, coming hard like you've been daydreaming he would for the past few days. You kiss the side of his head while he buries his face into your shoulder. “Perfect,” you whisper. “Perfect boy.”
He whimpers, still not relenting in filling you. You’re a little surprised. This is the longest an orgasm has ever lasted for Steven. You must’ve taken a lot out of him.
When he’s finally finished, he lets out a big sigh. You rub his back, nuzzling into him and wrapping your arms around his neck, trying to stretch out the moment as much as you can.
“Will you leave me alone about my wardrobe now?” he says into your neck, slightly muffled. You laugh.
“Sure. Only if you promise to wear a t-shirt once in a while.”
He groans. “Deal.”
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harvestmoth · 11 months
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pokemon horizons trio :]
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hellionil · 11 months
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Hey uhhhhhhh?
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What?? The actual fuck???????
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JUST HAPPENED??????????????
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HEWWO???????????????
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eldrichfuck666 · 11 months
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Annabelle says GO LESBIANS GO!!
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subjxctseventeen · 11 months
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ac gays do we think abstergo would rainbowwash their logo for pride month yes or no
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sportabrite · 10 months
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WAIT SHIT I FORGOT TO POST MY PRIDE MEME
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💕Happy pride besties😘
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