Bird Scientists Are Simply Horny.

It looks like sully and mike fucked and this was their kid, but like, more boring

why does there need to be a monsters inc series. and why does the new character look so boring

this is not a monster. this is just some guy

Cry why don’t you. Weep those NFT tears.

Sport

You: Loki, do you play any sports?

Loki: I run away from my feelings.

Prompt: "Do you plan on kissing me, or just staring at my lips like they're your dinner?"

Summary: just the gay mutant road trip. This is mostly a Drabble.

Charles lay sprawled out on the couch, headache buzzing at the back of his mind. Recruitment today was...well, a 'shit show' in no uncertain terms. Charles had been in the city for most of the day, which (for a telepath), meant a killer headache. Once the pain had finally subsided enough to form coherent thought, he'd realized what little food he actually had today, finally noticing the festering hunger by the pit of his stomach. Erik had just entered from the bathroom.

"Erik," Charles beckoned from the couch.

"Yes?" Erik turned to see Charles splayed out on the couch. He wore only a robe—motel issued, of course—and white briefs. Erik put massive amounts of effort into not looking at Charle's dick, which you could vaguely see the outline of.

"I'm hungry."

"And?" Erik raised a brow, now standing in front of Charles.

"Food. I want it." Erik smirked a little at the way Charles was acting. 'Cute' was the word bouncing around in his mind; he would never admit it though. Erik could see the desperation in Charles' eyes, almost a pout. He promptly decided that it was a matter of national importance to annoy the ever-loving shit out of Charles.

"What's the magic word?" Charles shifted to lying on the couch now, head propped up by one hand.

"Erik you're amazing, wonderful, handsome, and I love you?" Charles looked up to see a visibly nervous, startled, bumbling, blushing, Erik.

Okay, maybe it's a matter of local importance?

In reaction, Charles' mouth slightly opened, eyes wide, eyebrows raised for only a fraction of a second. Because, fuck, that's hot, but also, he can't know that.

Still flushed, Erik coughed and said "that will suffice." Erik then grabbed the hotel phone, calling down room service—while also, actively paying no mind to Charles. About a minute later, Charles piped up.

"I can flirt too, you know." Erik raised a brow and snapped to Charles' eyes.

"Yes, I've seen it in action. I often watch it with abject horror."

"You weren't staring at my ass in abject horror," Charles mumbled, breaking eye contact with Erik (who is, once again, a mess).

"No, I was staring at your ass with uncertain lust. Your ass isn't you flirting though, Charles. Your flirting is 'oh, hello attractive person, may I unzip your genes?" This time, Charles went red in the face, and let out a scoff.

"Erik, I purposefully shake my ass in front of you. I bite on the tip of my pen, I walk around half naked more often then normal, I leave the door open when I shower."

"I... I thought that was just you."

"It is, it's me when I'm around you"

Suddenly, a knock on the door breaks the trance both men were looped into. Erik shuffles around to open the door and mumbles a "thanks" to the worker. Charles loses himself in thought and Erik sifts through the food. He brings Charles his lava cake on the couch, where he sits down next to him with his coffee. Erik has to push around Charles' legs to make room. Once settled, Charles just places his legs on top of Erik's—both men sitting on opposite ends of the sofa, facing towards each other. Charles finally begins to dig into his lava cake, making aggressive eye contact with Erik. After a while, he shifts his fork around on the empty plate, still staring at Erik. Charles’ eyes landed on Erik’s lips; a shot of anticipation went up his spine. He’d thought about this many times before, and his thoughts began to spiral, replaying old fantasies. I don’t know where I want his lips first. Maybe we’d make out a bit first, then he’d kiss down my neck. Maybe he’d find that spot right behind my ear. Maybe I’d get to see his lips wrapped around my-

"Charles, are you still hungry?" Both men now sat 'pretzel style' still facing each other, when they got there remains a mystery. Charles now met Erik’s eyes, blood rushing up to his cheeks.

"No, I'm plenty full, why?" Charles leaned in slightly

"Okay, then do you plan on kissing me or just staring at my lips like they're your desert?"

Charles' eyes go dark with lust; his body stills. He nearly throws the plate down, muttering something along the lines of "bastard," and surges forward to meet Erik. Erik's hands frame the sides of Charles' face; Charles' hands grasp the older man's hair. Their noses were touching, breath burning each other's skin, mere inches away from kissing. Charles' eyes frantically searched Erik's, as if attempting to commit the moment to memory.

"Do you always play with your food, Charles?" Erik asked, and Charles could feel the question against his mouth. Charles let out a soft "fuck you" before finally closing the distance. As their lips met, they began to slowly devour one another. Their kiss was surprisingly... non-aggressive; sweet, even. Still full of passion, lust, and desire, but it was clear that neither of them were in a rush. Both men savored their (now) lover's taste. Erik let out a breathy laugh, and Charles did the same. Words left unsaid, declarations of love, and pure adoration were confessed against each other's lips.

Charles tugged against Erik's hair, and Erik groaned. Erik, in retaliation, shifted his hands down to Charles' ass, making him yelp. He lifted Charles closer, placing him atop his own lap. The couple broke apart for air, now panting in to each other's mouths. Erik's hands found Charles' face again, thumbs stroking softly.

“You taste like chocolate," Erik rasped, because honestly, he has no clue what to say. Charles placed a chaste kiss on the corner of Erik's mouth. He responded, in a similar tone, with "you taste like bastard."

Erik laughed, and oh god, that's one of Charles' favorite sounds.

"And, pray tell, what does bastard taste like, Charles?" Oh fuck, he's never said my name like that before.

"It tastes like the idiot who agreed to travel with me." Both men leaned back slightly, now looking into one another's eyes. "Tell me more about this idiot," Erik purred, one hand now roaming across Charles' neck. Charles released Erik's hair, and instead, wrapped his hands around Erik's arms.

"Well, he's stubborn," Charles began, Erik contenting with a mhm. Charles contemplated his next words, before trying again.

"He's stubborn, handsome… probably my best friend, and has these piercing, stormy eyes. He speaks five languages, and I swoon every time he speaks his native tongue. To be fair, I swoon every time he speaks period. His laugh is one of my favorite sounds in the world, and he's the only person I enjoy arguing with. He's a beautiful masterpiece of passion, even though he can't see it. Sometimes it scares me—how honest I am with him. He's very vocal about mutant rights, he's a wonderful addition to my life, and I think I might be a little bit in love with him." Erik's thumb stopped moving, and his body stilled.

"I think that idiot is a little bit in love with you too."

Please send me requests if you have any! I do !x reader’s too, I just haven’t had a good idea for one.

please stop trying to make more money off of this site it’s not going to work people are already desensitized to the ads or have adblock

Hey, thanks for the feedback!

We’re exploring more ways of making Tumblr financially sustainable, so we can keep this weird ship afloat. You don’t have to buy into it if you don’t want, but like Matt, current interim Tumblr CEO, said in a recent post:

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Love,

—Cyle (Tumblr Engineering)

EYO, I GOT SOME QUESTIONS TO ASK YOU

Hello friends,

I’m curious about something—and I love collecting empirical data (maybe it’s the autism/j 🤔). I wanted to do something about it,

So, I have some questions:

1. How many languages do you speak? (You can include ones you’re not fluent in, but please specify)

2. What are they?

Follow up: how many of your friends speak the same language(s)?

3. Where did you grow up (Country, state, province or whatever)?

Follow up: Describe your neighborhood to me, was it nice, bad, expensive, cheap, etc.

4. How financially well off were you as a child?

Follow up: If you feel comfortable sharing, what was the income your parent(s) made?

5. What ethnicity are you?

6. What job do you have now?

Follow up: And if you feel comfortable sharing, how much money do you make? (Also, please add if your pay is salaried or hourly)

Finally, what are some interesting facts about your language?

This is for a little project of my own that I’m doing. I know there are some issues in the school system (I’m an American, what do I expect) and I got curious. I want to see how many factors play in to the amount of languages someone speaks.

Most of the time, education is expensive—at least in the U.S it is (our public school system is shit). Yet, languages seem to be an outlier. The prissy rich white kids that can barely speak English, let alone a lick of Spanish, present an exception to the rule (education is expensive).

Also, a lot of my friends speak more than one language, but the American school system requires them to learn two while *in school*. Also, a lot of them speak languages that aren’t taught at my school— like Tagalog, Hindi, Gujarati, German, Russian, etc.— and I’m wondering if there’s a pattern to it.

Bíodh lá maith agat a chairde agus Que tengan buen día amigos

@wildefire Here it is! c: /i kinda imagine a college Steve for this one idk why :D:D/

2. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on you again for taking advantage of my compassionate and forgiving nature! HOw dare you.  + 3. Me? Overreacting? Probably.

—

Today was the day. Finally you had the day off for yourself and after the mission you told everybody you’ll see them around later and you sprinted to your room. You took off your clothes and wrapped your body in a nice fluffy towel, then grabbed the little pink bag from the shelf and entered your bathroom.

You closed the door and filled the bath tub with hot, steaming water and added your favourite scent to it. You were really excited, because this was your first free day in three weeks and all you wanted to do was to sit in that bath tub until you grew gills.

You lighted some candles, their delicate aroma was simply heavenly. But the best was yet to come! Yes, the little pink bag - you opened it and unwrapped the colourful bath bombs. “Finally I get to see what’s all the fuss about” - you said to yourself excitedly as you bit your bottom lip and dropped the rosy-lime one in the water. Just watching it turn the transparency into a nice pinky colour was so satisfying, you couldn’t wait to get in this tub and enjoy the afternoon.

Candles, flowers, some chocolates, everything was perfect. Your muscles were so tensed and your body craved relaxation. You closed your eyes and tilted your head back, a sigh of pleasure escaping your lips, when suddenly you felt a gush of cold air hitting you. And then a loud dropping sound.

This made your eyes open right away. You looked aroud - the door was closed, but what the hell was that on the floor. It looked like a little box, but it was… Ticking?

You opened the door just as the smoke alarm buzzed , just so you could stand face to face with the Devil himself, who stood at your door, biting on an apple, while blue smoke was coming out of the bathroom.

You grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pushed him against the opposite wall. “You! You little cheeky bastard! How dare you ruin my only free day?!” - yelling at his face seemed to do nothing, so you grabbed his apple and tossed it at the wall. “First you turned my hair green, then you shrank my clothes so they can only fit a fucking ant, then you came in my room naked in the middle of the night and scared the crap out of me. It’s not funny! I fucking thought I was getting kidnapped! And now this?! ” - by this point he was trying really hard not to laugh, so he just bit his lip, but his eyes were almost watering from the laughter he was holding in.

“It’s not fucking funny Rogers!” - you pulled him again and this time he laughed and leaned over the door frame. He was desperately trying to say something between the gasps for air “Your… Your face is blue” - he laughed, hitting the door frame with one hand. You started clapping slowly, in a sarcastic manner “Aren’t you the most observing person in the world! No, no, you know what fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on you again for taking advantage of my compassionate and forgiving nature! HOw dare you?  ”

You poked his chest with one finger and then crossed your arms, still glaring at him. Your hair messy, your face blue with some darker patches of blue on your shoulders, your body covered with the towel. You were mad at the moment, but in reality you looked beautiful to him, even in your crazy states.

You bent down a bit, holding your towel with one hand - “This is war, Rogers and you’ll get it!” - he looked at you with a cheeky smile and then got up, pulling you closer by your waist, so he can clean some of the blue from your face. “Aren’t you overreacting a little bit?” - he asked childishly, his smile only growing bigger, his brows raised as if he was so amused from your overraction.

You waved a finger in front of his face “Me? Overreacting?? Probably! But that doesn’t stop me from getting my revenge on you!”

~~ You planned your revenge for a few days and a couple of days later it was time to get your plan going.

You tried to seam calm and collected during the weak, as if you had forgotten everything, but in reality you were just looking for the right opportunity. And so the day came.

Steve was in the kitchen, just a towel wrapped around his waist, his body glistening with some fine drops of water. He was cooking something, when you tip toed to him and wrapped your hands around him and placed a kiss on his bare back. You felt his muscles tense and his skin heat up. He turned around and as he did you placed another kiss on his neck. His hands just barely resting on your waist.

Your relationship with him was complicated, but not complicated enough for you not to notice his constant flirting with you and so you knew this would have his mind running thousand miles per hour.

His head moved to the side involuntarily and you kisses his ear, but tried to stay calm. As much as you liked the game, turning your face blue for two days straight was no fun. You had to move fast because very soon he’d realise what was happening, so in one quick motion you handcuffed him to the fridge and unwrapped the towel from his waist.

He had no time to protest because the next thing you did was ripping the flour packet he had prepared all over him and pulled a camera from behind your back. “That’s what you get for messing with me, Rogers” - you said teasingly as you snapped just one photo of him and then put the keys on the far end of the table. You spared him once last look before you exited the room, you winked and then stuck your tongue out at him when he said with a smile “I’ll get you for that!”

No bc you know something's wrong when EVEN this mf would be a better Captain America than John Walker

Y'ALL KNOW I'M RIGHT