I'm Fucking Crhing Why Does He Say It Like That

jason eats you out like a man STARVED.

I’m talking straight after patrol, he’ll come back to your apartment through your window. The familiar thud of his boots on your wooden floor not unnoticed by you, and as soon as he gets a sight of you, the smell of you, he’s ready.

He wouldn’t even say ‘hello’ and you couldn’t even get out a ‘how was patrol?’ before he’s leaping onto you, grabbing you swiftly and hoisting you onto his lap as he walks over to your bedroom, throwing you onto the mattress with a thud.

It would all be a blur, the way he’d rip off your panties and glare up through his lashes with desperation, lust and desire. The way he’d lean down, position himself between your thighs and lay the sweetest open mouthed kisses on your skin onto to be replaced with harsh bites that leave marks for days due to his sharp teeth.

You would let out the most angelic, pornographic gasps and screams and he loves it. Call him sadistic for loving those little screams of pain and pleasure that escape your lips, hell just laugh in your face because you both know you love it.

He’d grab onto your thighs with his calloused hands, fingertips digging into your flesh whilst he licks a long stripe on your cunt. His tongue swiping through your folds, collecting and savouring the warm slick that’s been gathering all night. “—been thinking about me, baby?” his voice a low murmur, breathy and ready to devour you whole.

You can only nod, eyes closed and head leaned back against your pillows as he begins his feast. He’d literally make out with your pussy, wetness all over his chin. Lewd noises filling the four walls, your hands clasping down onto the sheets whilst your toes curl. You needed this. You needed him.

He’d lean in further, and you’d moan so loudly when his tongue dips into your hole, teasing your gummy walls before he retreats, and replaces his tongue with his two thick digits.

The sound that would escape your mouth would be heavenly, his fingers were so big, they stretch you out perfectly and the way he’d pumping in and out whilst his tongue flicks and sucks at your clit, nose occasionally bumping at your sensitive bud makes you see stars.

He knows when you’re close, when your cunt start squeezing him, never leaving him go, never letting him leave and he just coos. Your mouth gawping open and moaning, gasping, panting his name whilst his free hand would come to rest on your stomach lovingly, “.. don’t worry, baby, let it out..”

“Jason— ahh— fuck..! mmh—“ your gasps all hazy, fuzzy, you’d be literally grinding onto his face and nose chasing your high. And when it hit, you’d let out the most intense scream, juices seeping down onto his chin, all over his face and he’d get up like it was nothing. Sitting up between your thighs, looking all messy and gorgeous with pupils blown out.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his mouth, he’d prop himself up onto his elbows, “—think you can handle another ?”

He was truly a messy eater.

·.✧ ✦ ✧.·

a/n: jaybae don’t play about his girls pussy. periodt. also i wrote this half asleep.

the tariffs are making life is strange 80 dollars...

charles' fashion red flag being skinny jeans Max verstappen I'm going to hold your hand when i say this

Thinking about how Luke could cum just from eating you out. Like he’d be between your legs, sloppily sucking on your clit while grinding into the mattress, getting so worked up over just tasting you. He’d moan against you, gripping your thighs and looking up at you, wanting to know if he’s doing good, your moans only driving him further. His pants would be soaked with precum, his neglected cock painfully hard from being ignored for hours, but he wouldn’t care. He just wants to make you cum on his mouth one more time. Of course, that’s what he’s been saying for the past three orgasms.

You’ve had five orgasms, and your sixth is quickly approaching, and when he sticks his tongue inside your sopping cunt and finds that spongy spot that has you seeing stars, you moan and pull his hair, making him grind just a little bit too hard into the mattress, the sharp pain on his hair making him stiffen and whimper as he spills into his pants. And despite his sticky, softening cock and your sore overstimulated cunt, he still goes in for more, wanting to pull just one more orgasm out of you.

it literally wraps around earth

look at my team dawg...

the kings are up 2-0 in a playoff series for the first time since 2012 when they won the stanley cup.

shoot me

｡⋆𖦹.✧˚──

the tower isn’t what it used to be. no more clean metal shine. no more stark’s weird robot jazz echoing off the walls. now there’s throw blankets that don’t match, mismatched mugs in the kitchen sink, and half a pizza box abandoned on the coffee table under a forgotten tablet glowing faint blue. the new avengers are spread across the sectional like dropped laundry. yelena belova was upside down with her legs hanging off the top, scrolling on her phone like the fate of the universe depends on it. john walker's asleep with one arm tossed over his eyes, pretending not to be listening. and you, you’re tucked in next to bucky barnes cause it’s always been that way.

his arm’s around your waist, the metal one, heavy and cool through the thin fabric of your sleep shirt. your legs are half across his lap. there’s a blanket barely clinging to both of you. you lean in slowly, kissing the corner of his mouth first, he hums something. so you do it again, softer. your lips trail across the edge of his jaw, warm and lazy. and he finally looks at you, real slow, real tired.

“you tryin’ to distract me?” he says, voice rough with sleep or maybe something else.

“from what?” you whisper. “yelena's tiktok rabbit hole? pretty sure the world’ll keep turning.”

he chuckles, breath fogging warm against your temple. “you’re gonna get us kicked off the couch.”

“then we’ll take the beanbag. better view of the stars anyway.”

there’s a long pause, no one talking, just the low thrum of the tower’s power system and distant sirens down in the city, muffled by double pane glass and altitude. bucky doesn’t say much when he’s tired. doesn’t need to. his hand settles over yours, thumb dragging lazy circles over your skin.

your powers flicker under your skin when you’re this close. heat like static behind your ribs. reality bends easier around you when he touches you. he doesn’t flinch anymore when it happens. the way light bends a little around your fingertips. how your shadow twitches half a second slower than your body.

“you’re glowing again,” he mumbles.

“can’t help it.” you grin against his throat. “you make me all… photonic.”

“that a scientific term?”

“yup. real cutting edge. avengers approved.”

he turns toward you fully then, presses a slow kiss to your cheek, then your jaw, then your lips. it’s nothing hurried. like sunday mornings. like breath.

near you, yelena mutters, “jesus. get a room.”

you don’t look away. neither does bucky. just smirks against your mouth.

a/n: i actually hate this so much! but forgive me for i was puking my brains out yesterday when i wrote this.