Guys, look. They finally made a baby stroller for wheelchair-bound mothers. This is so important.
I seem to hurt the people that care the most
Just like an animal I protect my pride when I’m too bruised to fight
And even when I’m wrong I tend to think I’m right
There’s nothing wrong with sex, people.
- Having sex every day.
- Saving sex for your wedding night.
- Never having sex.
- Having sex with different people.
- Having sex with one person.
- Having sex with a person of your same gender.
- Loving sex.
- Hating sex.
- Being loud.
- Being quiet.
The only thing wrong with sex?
When it’s not consensual.
Because that’s not sex. That’s rape.
Reblogging again because this post is so important.
One day Steve falls asleep while drawing in the workshop, face down and almost drooling into the couch. Tony goes over with a sharpie, pulls Steve's sweats down a little, and draws the Iron Man helmet on Steve's butt (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
Tony laughs and laughs when Steve finds it in the shower. He even laughs when Steve grabs the shower head attachment and turns it on its most forceful setting, dousing Tony as he stands at the sink, toothbrush still in mouth. He lets out an insane little giggle when Steve finally gets out of the shower and walks over to him, rolling his eyes but smiling, before giving him a long kiss and heading to their bedroom to get dressed.
Two weeks later when he stumbles back in after a tense business trip and Steve greets him with a crushing hug and roaming hands, he doesn’t laugh when he finally has Steve stripped naked and on his stomach on the bed.
He’s just confused.
Steve always catches Tony’s awkward silences and starts speaking before Tony can ask.
"Did you know there’s a little tattoo parlor up the block?"
"Steve," Tony says, his voice a mixture of awe and disbelief.
"They’re real nice bunch of people there. Different from what I expected."
"You didn’t," Tony says.
Tony swipes his tongue across his thumb and then rubs at the small, dark image on Steve’s rear. The skin reddens at the pressure, but the ink doesn’t smudge. The Iron Man helmet is as stark and prominent as it was a second before.
Steve hesitates, craning his neck to look over his back at where Tony is positioned between his legs. A crease forms between his brows, worried.
"I didn’t—I’m sorry I shouldn’t have presumed without—"
"Shut up. Just shut up. I don’t have enough blood left in my brain to pacify your insecurities. It’s perfect. It’s… it’s fucking hot is what it is."
Steve’s eyes darken, the crease disappearing. “Yeah?”
"Yeah." Tony softly caresses the mark with his thumb. "Is it permanent? I mean, with the serum?"
Steve shrugs as much as he can. “Dunno. We’ll find out I guess.”
"Yeah," Tony says breathlessly. "I guess we will."
What the hell? How big is Clark Gregg’s dick? ermergawd! And also look at those arms.
it’s fucking humungous