Sid is smitten. He was smitten from the start, he thinks. The first time he saw Zhenya's dark eyes and hair and smooth skin. The way his cheeks flush the same color as his mouth with exertion, or passion. Sid knows that people make comments about his own mouth, the way it would be more suited on a childbearing male, but he thinks that they can’t possibly have seen Zhenya's. The perfect, sweet cupid's bow of his upper lip and the plush, fat pout of the bottom one.

Jordan’s always been kind of jealous of people with dynamics, like Taylor.

Brady only realizes how sore he is when Kevin slaps his chest, both of them coming off the ice after practice.

c: i agree, the natural progression of auston getting injured is for him to start lactating and get milked by matt martin in a car park (“Oh, kid. You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”)

“God! Fine. I’m out of eggs, dude.” Cale feels a blush rising to his cheeks and knows there’s no way it isn’t staining his face bright red now. But he soldiers on anyway, giving Nate as unimpressed of a look as he possibly can. “Okay, so? Go to a grocery store or something. Don’t bother me about it at 6am.” Nate scrunches his nose, eyes briefly flicking down and up and Cale shudders, minutely. Nate seems to pick up on it, based on the way Nate smiles a little. Smirks. “Yeah, but yours are always the freshest.”

If someone had asked him a day ago what he thought it would be like to be held prisoner by a dragon, Sid never would have guessed it would be this boring.

EDDIE. “Yeah?” STOP TALKING. A buzz of dangerous excitement lights up Eddie’s nervous system like a whole damn Christmas tree, like the hum of a neon sign in the quiet rain, the fear of a lightning strike eclipsed by awe for the subliminal, earthly tremor of thunder’s echo. He smirks, lazy. “Make me.” When Venom purrs, the vibration radiates through his veins, his muscles and bones, his pores, the chambers of his heart, as if a satisfied lion were not merely sitting on his chest but residing in his ribcage.   OR: Venom thinks "me time" is "we time." OR: Does it count as masturbation when your symbiote gets you off? OR: Teaching sex ed to your symbiote.

“Facing me or on your knees, commander?” His Jedi asked, sounding a bit breathless. A hot bolt of arousal lanced through Wolffe at the gravelly words. He swallowed. It would probably be more comfortable for the general to remain on his back for the duration of their…activities. (Or Commander Wolffe helps his general with a problem.)

“Baby, you have no idea how this is going to play out,” Tim murmurs, voice a low rumble that makes Jason shiver with arousal. He casts Tim a dark, challenging look, and growls back, “Try me.”