im so thirsty

And so the press begins for Spiderman: Far From Home. 😭😭😭 Bring it on.

“average writer publishes about 1 book a decade” factoid actualy just statistical error. average writer publishes several books per decade. Westeros Georg, who lives in a new mexico and only publishes when the stars are aligned , is an outlier adn should not have been counted

👭👩‍❤️‍👩💖🏳️‍🌈💞💕🏳️‍🌈👩‍❤️‍👩💖💗🏳️‍🌈 H hHhH hH rebwog and uwu will gewt a giwlfwiend sowon HHH H hH 👭👩‍❤️‍👩💖🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈💗💗💞💕🏳️‍🌈👩‍❤️‍👩

[Do Not Repost or Remove Captions]{Click image for better quality}

“Oh no, you caught me!!” God I love drawing him. Anyways, posting this here since it’s more suggestive, and not a full on nude. Sorry for the All Might thirst!

I just noticed Atlas is wearing a zipped up mock turtle neck under his jacket

Imagine, theres something up with the air conditioning and it gets really hot, so Atlas takes off his jacket…. but its still warm, so he just unzips the mock turtle and MC can see his neck, his adam’s apple and the base of his neck.

She just stares at it while they work on the Promise, not noticing that Atlas has been trying to get her attention for like two minutes ‘cuz a bead of sweat had rolled down his neck.


flirting while handing Tobin a water bottle in 2015 vs….. flirting while handing Tobin a water bottle in 2018

potter-art  asked:

In honor of our coffee debate, if you feel up to it, could you write me some Drarry with Coffee Snob Vs. Coffee Heathen? Or just something involving the sacred morning coffee?? Just... Drarry and Coffee.

Among the long list of things Draco had not expected — including Potter ending up in his bed last night — was waking up to find the other side of the bed empty

Potter, instead of being where he belonged next to Draco, was puttering silently around his kitchen as if he’d been there a million times — which Draco supposed he had, just never like this — wearing nothing but a pair of dark green boxers and Draco’s white shirt. Potter spun on his heels, reaching up into the topmost cupboard to pull down two mugs and Draco could see where two buttons were missing off the top of the shirt from the moment Potter had grown impatient last night and quite literally ripped the shirt open. The normally crisp cotton was wrinkled, giving Potter a rumpled just fucked looked that made Draco’s chest ache with a sort of intimate familiarity. Draco shivered at the memory of the shirt hanging off his shoulders as Potter had dropped to his knees to undo his trousers.

“Do you want some?” Potter asked.

“How did you know I was here?” Draco asked, crossing the room to move behind Potter. He wanted to rest his chin on his shoulder, wrap his arms around him and breathe him in  — wanted to memorize him  — but he held back still unsure. Whatever this was between them felt somehow solid and fragile all at once, and Draco found himself terrified of fucking it up.

“Do you want the long answer or the short answer?” Potter asked, and when he finally turned around it was with two steaming mugs of coffee in his hands. 

“The honest one,” Draco answered as he took the proffered mug, peering into it and smiling  — the cup was nearly white, more milk than coffee, the only way Draco liked it. 

Potter took a long, slow sip of his own coffee before setting the mug down on the counter. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Somehow the confession felt weighted as if Potter meant more than just this morning. Draco thought of years spent working together as partners, of hours spent in each other’s company eating takeaway and listening to the wireless long after their cases were done. After Potter’s confessions last night Draco had been in no doubt that Potter had wanted him physically, but it occurred to Draco now that when Potter had whispered I want everything before pressing Draco back into the cool sheets he had not just meant sexually.

“I’m here now,” Draco said, his voice resounding in the stillness of the morning.

Potter’s mouth curled up in the corner as he plucked the mug from Draco’s hand to deposit it beside his own, moving his hands to Draco’s waist and pulling him flush against his chest. Draco hummed into the kiss, Potter’s chest was warm and solid against his own, his body bracketed between Potter’s spread legs as he kissed Draco.

Potter’s entire body relaxed into the kiss as he opened his mouth to let Draco in and Draco tightened his hold on him, intoxicated by the bitter taste of coffee on Potter’s tongue.

When he pulled out of the kiss Potter’s eyes were bright, his lips were kiss swollen and he had the same smile on his face that he got when they closed a case  — victorious, contented, happy. Draco leaned forward, dropping his forehead against Harry’s as his own lips curled up into a smile.

Potter had stayed the night. Potter had made him coffee. 

Potter was here, and as Draco pressed his lips against Potter’s once more, he knew he wasn’t going anywhere.