Oct 28, 2025
glasses
Loading...
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Iraq
seen from Brazil
seen from Brazil
seen from Yemen
seen from South Africa
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Philippines
seen from Sweden
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Philippines
seen from Sweden
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from Guinea
glasses
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Eddie and Steve were shooting hoops. Steve knew it wasn't what Eddie had in mind when he'd invited him to hang out that night, but they were always hanging out in Eddie's comfort zone. Steve had watched Corroded Coffin perform at the hideout more times than he could count, and Eddie had gotten into the habit of hosting Hellfire's D&D sessions at his place. This time, the ball was in Steve's court.
He chose to take Eddie to an old outdoor basketball court on the edge of town he and Tommy would frequent what seemed like a lifetime ago. They'd smoked on the edge of the court and talked about nothing until the air turned icy then Steve had the bright idea to play HORSE.
Eddie was horrible. Worse than Steve expected, and honestly, Steve hadn't expected much. They'd been shooting hoops for the better part of an hour, and Eddie had yet to get one in. However, he was having fun creating more elaborate handicaps to give to Steve after each layup or swish he nailed.
Hop on one foot, Steve. Turn around five times, Steve. Close your eyes, Steve.
Yes, Eddie sucked, but he seemed to be having fun. Steve definitely was.
"You really are bad at this game, Munson." Steve chuckled as Eddie missed yet another shot.
"Dude, it's not my fault. Gays can't do sports, it's a fact of nature," Eddie huffed, sweat shining off his brow.
Eddie had come out to Steve a month beforehand, and it appeared he was finally finished walking on eggshells around Steve, no longer worried the former jock was lying about how perfectly okay he was having a gay friend.
"That's bullshit, dude. For one, 'Sports' is like a whole subgenre of lesbian," Steve argued, sounding genuinely offended. Robin was great at soccer. She was a closeted jock if Steve had ever seen one.
"And how does Steve Harrington know so much about gays anyway?" Eddie teased, wiggling his brow suggestively as he lined up another shot at the hoop.
Steve panicked. Eddie had come out to Steve, but he had no clue if Robin had come out to Eddie. Oh, Christ, had Steve outed Robin? He couldn't tell Eddie he'd heard about it from a friend. Steve had one friend, besides Eddie, who wasn't a kid, and that was Robin.
"Because I'm queer," Steve responded before he could come up with another excuse. Which solved one problem and created about twenty more.
Needless to say, Eddie missed his next shot and promptly began choking on air.
Flambae gets publically shamed into helping Waterboy with a useless task: the comic!
inspired by this post https://www.tumblr.com/queenorigami/809314811528855552 I love that 1. Flambae hit Waterboy with his car and 2. Waterboy tanked it like an absolute champ. I think Herman should use this event to his advantage.
💬 0 🔁 5 ❤️ 13 · thisq is basically all i do on peach whenever i talk about those two good fucking lord
Worth | Sanji
Sanji x fem!reader
You like Sanji and you show it, but despite all the effort your feelings seem to be one sided or so you thought.
masterlist || for request || ko-fi
words: 3.8k
Batman and Superman get stuck in solitary confinement for months on end
Pros: Get to spend more time doing stupid shit around each other :D
Cons: everything else about solitary confinement
They were caught as spies by the aliens and imprisoned. One a planet where almost every material is a derivative of blue kryptonite, a fact they did not know before selecting Clark for the mission.
They're locked in the same cell, and just wait. The Justice League will come for them eventually, and they're treated well enough, even if any aliens that come by do so only when they're unconscioud, refusing them the privilege of company other than each other. The downside if that time passes a lot quicker in this galaxy than the Milky Way, and they will be imprisoned for a long while before the League realises they're missing.
Clark holds Bruce through flare ups he can no longer medicate through, Bruce lets Clark bury his face in his chest and listen to his heart when he descends into a panic because he's understimulated, and feels disgustingly unlike himself, but Bruce's heart is a relic of before, and even if it's more muffled now it calms him the same way.
Bruce has to teach Clark how to maintain his physique now he's human. Clark has no stamina and Bruce laughs his ass off while Clark whinges and moans about every exercise. Clark howls with laughter as Bruce lies on their bed and confesses he misses his thread count.
They have to sleep together, because there is only one bed,a and neither have any desire to mess their backs up on the cold stone floor. They think nothing of it becaude they've had to do it before for missions. A week in they're not facing away anymore. Two weeks and Bruce wakes up being spooned. Three weeks and they give up and just cuddle each other to sleep.
Both end up severely vitD deficient and neither mention each other's pasty complexions. Their meals aren't enough and both lose massive amounts of muscle mass. Their prisoner uniforms hang off them hauntingly.
When Clark pisses Bruce off he climbs up to the ceiling and sits there irritated to ignore him. Clark can't figure out how to suspend himself between the walls and sulks below unable to get to him. When Bruce annoys him Clark kicks him off the bed.
They realise after two months they are essentially pseudo-psychics for one another and can read each other's thought and needs effortlessly. They immediately use it to do the dumbest shit immediately available to them."
Clark hold Bruce as he cries and cries about his kids. Bruce holds Clark as he cries and misses his own family. Both of them get sick several times, bodies adjusting to the alien cuisine. The orther holds them through it, then drags them back to bed and covers them with their measly blankert.
It takes five months for the Justice League to finalise negotiations for their release. They don't quite manage to hide the horror on their faces when Bruce and Clark are brought out in their shackles that barely fit their thin wrists anymore.
It takes another 'month' to get back to Earth. Hal takes Clark and throws him at the sun, collecting him when he falls back out all fixed up. Zatanna is waiting at the Watchtower, and heals Bruce, and politely ignores his shivers when someone that isn't Clark touches him for the first time in months.
They stumble back together as soon as they can, clinging tightly. Bruce tucks his head into Clark's shoulder and Clark bows over him, larger than life once more. The best part is, they're both warm.
The other Leaguers look on happily, slightly sadly that it took them so long. Six months for the two of them. Six weeks for Earth.
They go their separate ways. Clark flies to Kansas, Bruce goes back to Gotham. Both are wrapped up in hugs and tight embraces and both hate it. Martha Kent finds herself abruptly in Wayne Manor and looks across to find Clark yanking Bruce into a hug. The rest of the room looks on sadly, watching the shivers that wrack their loved ones, and keep a distance, promising the two of them it's okay. They'll figure it out. They'll reintroduce human contact slowly. Touch slower.
They keep sharing a bed. Bruce melts into the mattress and Clark makes a crack about the thread count. Breakfast the next morning is like being exhibitions at the zoo as everyone stares at the way the two of them are creepily in tune, not even needing words anymore.
A month in, Bruce applies make up on both of them to make them look like they did before their rescue, and they go to the Daily Planet before any journalists get to work. Perry startles seeing them in his office, and pulls Clark into a gruff hug. The lie is that Clark took a chance to interview Bruce Wayne, and wrong place wrong time, was still there when Bruce was kidnapped and was took too.
"You got back a month ago?" Clark nods. "Take longer, Kent. Bloody hell. Work remote until you can let go of your boyfriend here."
Clark and Bruce go back to the Manor. They separate for the first time, and seclude themselves.
Boyfriend...
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
@zukkaweek 2025 Day 5: Language Barrier
In japanese, the phrase Sokka says can be seen as a romantic confession, but he doesn't know that
“We need to defrost the freezer,” Steve tells Eddie when he walks out carrying a tub of ice cream.
Eddie sighs, head resting on his hands while he overlooks the empty shop. “I wish someone would defrost my will to live.”
Steve finds it funny. In a guilty snort sort of way, because Eddie’s jokes are kinda dark and he isn’t sure if he’s supposed to laugh. But yeah, working at Scoops is a drag at times, and Steve understands it at some level.
It escalates from there.
Steve will tell Eddie they’re out of hazelnut ice cream, and Eddie will get a look on his face that doesn’t promise anything good.
“I’ll hazel your nuts.” Eddie cocks his head, staring at him in that ridiculous sailor uniform with mischief painted on his face.
“What the hell does that even mean?”
Steve tries to pretend he’s weirded out, but when Eddie laughs at him like that, Steve can’t help but crack up as well.
But that’s the normal stuff — because sometimes Eddie’s comments are hard to play off, and Steve doesn’t really know whether he’s joking at all.
“Morrison really fucked us over with the new schedule.” Steve frowns at the paper on the wall because they got like four evening shifts that week, including Friday and Saturday, and it’s messing with his dating life — even though that’s barely hanging on by a thread right now.
“I wish you’d fuck me over,” Eddie says as he cleans the glass display window with lazy motions.
It makes Steve stop in his tracks; makes his mouth run dry and his heart rate pick up. But Eddie just stares at him, same smile as always, waiting for Steve to shoot something back.
“Maybe I should.” The words are out before he knows it and Steve feels a little mortified by how much he meant it. When he looks over at Eddie, his lips are slightly parted, cheeks a little red, and the hand cleaning the window has stopped in its tracks.
Steve thinks that maybe Eddie meant his words as well.
Okay, prompt, uhhh... How about: Mav stays for the rest of the volleyball game?
Thank you for the prompt! I wanted to get this out before I go ‘off grid’ for a week 😛
(Quality disclaimer: this is the first thing I’ve written in two fucking months, bear with me)
“Good game.” Ice grinned as he shook Goose’s hand.
“Yeah, yeah.” Goose rolled his eyes. “Drinks on you, right?”
“If it makes your crushing loss easier to swallow.”
The sun was just beginning to dip behind the ocean blue horizon, last light vivid orange and fading fast. The sticky humidity of a Miramar summer day had conceded to the marginally less sticky humidity of early evening. Ice relished the sea breeze blowing in from the west, cooling his skin beneath its sheen of sweat and sand.
A heavy arm settled around Ice’s neck, crushing him against a familiar chest in a grip two degrees shy of a headlock.
“Mocking the man while he’s down, Ice?” Slider simpered. “I’ve taught you well.”
Ice drove a sharp elbow into Slider’s ribs, his choked wheeze ringing like sweet music.
“Did I hear drinks on Ice?” Hollywood said loudly as he and Wolf joined them at the edge of the volleyball court.
Ice clicked his tongue. “Do you often have auditory hallucinations, Wood? You should get that checked out.”
The responding protest was rowdy and over the top, and Ice found himself slipping into an easy smile as he let himself fade to the edge of the conversation, content to simply observe the good natured posturing.
He took a small step back when Slider made a telegraphed swing at Wolf for his smart mouth.
For the first time since arriving at Top Gun, Ice felt the looming shadow of competition slide away. It felt like the first breath of salty air after a long patrol over a neverending sea, the relief found in small moments of reprieve. The light warmth in his chest betrayed a fast growing fondness for the men he’d spent the last month sharing the sky with.
His eyes jumped from face to face, cataloguing bright eyes and smile lines.
He hadn’t realised he was looking for one in particular until he found it absent.
Ice’s brow furrowed when he didn’t immediately spot Maverick hovering at Goose’s elbow like a package deal. He cast his gaze beyond the boundary of their little group, scanning the bleachers either side of the court.
A head of spiky black hair popped through the collar of a white tee by the picnic tables on the far side.
Before he could overthink it, Ice slipped away from the conversation unnoticed and crossed the stretch of cooling sand.
Maverick was in the middle of what looked to be a desperate struggle with his ludicrous cowboy boots when Ice reached him.
“Where are you going?” Ice said sharper than he’d intended. He didn’t wince, but it was a near thing.
Maverick startled, head snapping up, eyes lit with the same burning intensity Ice had met unflinching that first morning in the classroom. It was as much of a challenge now as it had been then.
“I don’t see how it’s any of your business, Kazansky.” Maverick’s words were clipped, syllables bitten sharp by his crooked teeth.
“You-” Ice began but cut himself off quickly, breathing in through his nose and consciously forcing the tension from his shoulders. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he tried again, tone even, not dissimilar to the voice one might use to coax some feral woodland creature out of the garden shed. He stuck out his hand. “Good game.”
Maverick blinked at him in owlish surprise, as though Ice’s sudden congeniality had single handedly shattered his entire perception of reality. He accepted the handshake with the hesitancy of a bomb squad new recruit.
“Good game,” he echoed haltingly.
They maintained contact for a socially acceptable three seconds. Up, down, up, down, release. Ice half expected Maverick to immediately wipe his palm off on his jeans.
Ice stuffed his hands into the tragically sandy pockets of his sweat pants. “We’re getting drinks. You should come.”
Maverick nodded slowly. “Okay.”
“Okay. Cool.”
“Cool.”
They stared at each other for a long moment. Then another.
Ice cleared his throat before it became too awkward for even him to bear. He jerked his head towards their classmates, the volume of their shenanigans having increased exponentially since his departure.
“C’mon,” he said, “drinks on me.”