STEVE ROGERS never gets your references and takes you out for coffee dates too much, but what he can do is lay down some killer pipe. you weren’t sure about him at first, he seemed like the type to say he prefers friendship or he’s staying single to better himself - or whatever. you thought that he was too good to be true because of how reserved he was, but after you coaxed him out of his shell—and got him up to your room—you were pleasantly surprised. all that weight on you, every poised muscle dedicated to using those seven inches to their fullest, grunting out of his slack lips as he hovers his chest over yours n curls his hips in a way that rolls your eyes into the back of your head. he’s a little more quiet that you would’ve hoped, but you can learn to appreciate it, all your focus is on the way your core feels getting filled up. his brows furrow, a chuff escaping his nose as he raises himself up. big hands clamp onto your hips to bring you with him, sitting on his haunches while he lifts your tailbone, realigning, and returning to the pace he set. his biceps swell as he moves you, reminiscent of some toy, his abdomen n chest flex n the dull light catches on their curves. there’s sweat in his hair, hanging down into his eyes as they’re downcast - you’re not exactly sure what they’re looking at. you can’t even form a sentence, you just enjoy the ride.

i’ve been marathoning his spidey movies i actually haven’t seen the trailer for bnd but im excited to see the movie 🕺 he’s not rly my thing but there’s smthn ab this rewatch that has me perking up to the idea of him

you can’t type your consent fast enough, and you hear the familiar thwip outside your window, followed closely by the clambering of his crawl inside, and the hasty unbuckling of his belt. looks like he rushed over in civvies. he flashes a grins at you, “remember we gotta be fast.“ he flicks his shirt up n over his head, the web shooter on his wrist aims at your hip, “c’mere,” her jerks you over by the leash of his web and right into him.

yes!!!! ofc i am

omg wait ya optimus prime and nd-5

i’m interested don’t get me wrong but why is it that when i look up the cast it is 100% white ppl

like oh my god wait a second..

it’s something about the new suit… maybe it’s because he designed it himself, or the faux-fingerless gloves are really working for you, but you keep flirting with SPIDER-MAN trying to make him blush. you play with your lips n nibble at your fingernail, “lookin’ good, spidey.” is all you need to say before he’s stuttering n his fist slips when he tries to put them on his hips triumphantly. you play at the whole civilian thing, stride up to him to trace a nail down the emblem on his chest, “what’s your girlfriend think of it?” to his credit, he tries to keep up, muttering some cute line about how he doesn’t have a girlfriend - spider-man doesn’t have time for a girlfriend. n you swear you can feel him flush hard under his mask when you say, “oh, we can keep it casual then.” keeping it casual with peter looks a lot like taking advantage of the new suit for inappropriate purposes. lifting you up n down on his lap, handling all the weight for you, you just get to enjoy the ride, squelching down on your neighborhood hero’s inches. he chuffs out some whimper: “i don’t know how i feel about pretending you’re not my girlfriend…” but you know how he feels about it, you feel it yourself. the very tip of him seated deep inside you while your eyes roll into the back of your head.

that’s what i’m saying like 💀 remember when we thirsted ab mordecai. nanaue. rocket raccoon

if nothing else, colin ford’s getting his fingers between your legs. swapping spit and playing with your hair, that sweaty and tentative hand is slipping down, nails awkwardly catching on the folds of your clothes. his wrist twists on the way down to cup your mound, the heel of it pressing firmly into your clit under your jeans, swiping up your slit to push your denim seam into you. pads of his fingers clumsily roll over your bud, n you can feel a wet patch in your crotch. he’s humming with approval into your mouth when your tongue slides against his in that way he likes. recycling breath from your noses makes you dizzy n drunkenly lull with his movements. your knees spread subconsciously when his one hand comes to—somehow—unbutton your jeans all clumsy, pulling the zipper down shyly. he sighs through his nose when he raises his shoulder, straightening his elbow to leverage the plunge into your tight pants. flat hand wedging between the fabric and you so he can get at your bare sex, itching to taste that velvety tissue with the pads of his fingers, gravitating towards your slit in a boyish display of neglecting your clit bcos he’s just too excited to get to fingerbanging a hole.

i can’t wait to be 30 i’m gonna be 85 still writing on tumblr