bugg's zone

[cuddlebuggg]

sorry to bug you!

I mostly post personal art/writings/selfship/other aesthetic stuff on here. basically anything that I dont feel like posting on main at @buggjunction!

Im a sharing yume! I just refer to my blorbos as mine because its silly! Non-sharers feel free to block me ^__^

[bearforceone3]

doodle for the day

after vost on twt

[cuddlebuggg]

Kissing Lobo under the mistletoe. U3U

Christmas might be several months away…..But making out with that horrible horrible horrible man is year round ❤️

[pinniposting]

everyone knows what a baby harp seal looks like, but here’s an adult! this one’s tracker makes it look like a live bomb

photo: W.J. Grecian, SMRU

[littleguysdaily]

[sealsdaily]

Today's Seal Is: *Blows Up*

[pizzapartyplayhouse]

It's not a Pizza come back without a little Guy Gardner (or Guy Gardner's big chunky boots)

Closeups + OG below 👇

thank you to my awesome epic talented friend @astiedoodles for the idea muahaahahahaaaa GO FOLLOW HIM RIGHT NYEOW for your guy gardner needs.... he is The Guy guy

rendering the condensation on his beer was a major pain in the rear

[twentytomidnight]

Hiiii fren….can i get a match if its not too much trouble….

Uhhh hobbies include baking, making art, and playing video games!! I louve nature….i find immense joy in spotting/handling bugs and learning about them….i adore a good zoo/aquarium/museum trip and i take obnoxious amounts of pictures of mundane stuff every day!!

Personally wise i think im pretty chilled out and introverted and funny…..ugh i loooove hearing my friends laugh it brings me so much glee omg. I have RBF but i over exaggerate my expressions when i mask….i also get overstimulated in like 8 seconds and i suuuuck at making my own decisions….i like following clear directions with obvious logic behind them because it makes sense and i don’t want to have to have to think so much all the time lmfao

the crystal ball is calling to me.........it says that there are two men for you...

for dc, I'm setting you up with dick grayson

I think that Dick would be the perfect DC match for you because mans always has a love for life and a lust for knowledge; not only would bro love to get engaged with you in various activities, bro would absolutely enjoy hearing you infodump about nature and learning all of the wonderful bits of knowledge that you can share. AND you know that he would always be down for both an adventure and to make sure that he's doing his best to be his best personality complement to you while also being your anchor in odd, overstimulating or confusing times

for marvel, I'm setting you up with logan

I know for a fact that Logan would be the best designated ridealong with any exciting museum date or any frolic that you'd want him to tag along with in nature....and if it gets spicy? Well, there's no problem with that then, is there? I think that mans would also be the perfect personality complement because he's not going to force you to do anything that will make you go outside of your comfort zone but will also do his best to be straightforward and to the point in a manner that shows he's looking out for you. RBF buddy with you hehe 💛

[cuddlebuggg]

hehehehehehehe kicks feet blushes covers face starts beeping like an active landmine and detonates on the spot

[rosypinkprincess]

[cuddlebuggg]

"cookies and cream" and then it be hella cream and two cookies....we're executing you TOMORROW

[angel3j]

. ݁₊pink dividers . ݁₊

[pnglove]

[lobolovesfatbitches]

Summer jonat

[computer-rabbit-boy]

rewatched inside job again.... and i had to pull the guy whose the most sucks

[saltedume]

[lobolovesfatbitches]

Dooble

[twentytomidnight]

what are some random nsfw hc's you have of guy? i must know c:

NSFW/18+ HC:

BRO LOVES GETTING SLAPPED! Bro absolutely loves pain incorporated into sex and will jump on any opportunity to have it injected into sex. Will look at you glassy-eyed and with unabashed lust in his eyes as he works his coarse palm around his jaw, feeling up the way that you settled your hand into the meat of his cheek.

BRO LOVES GETTING STEPPED ON! Absolutely a fan of it (and also a big fan of feet, you CANNOT convince me otherwise), and wants to be able to feel the way that the heel of your foot feels on his face. On the caging of his ribs. On his cock (who said that)

BRO LOVES GETTING PEGGED! Absolutely salivates at the sight of you wearing the strap and wants nothing more than to be given the business by you. The harder and rougher the better.

BRO LOVES GOING DOWN ON YOU! I said it I said it but Guy is an EATER I KNOW IT IN MY HEART. Could spend forever in between your legs with a smile on his face.

BRO LOVES YOU THICK AND WITH EXTRA MEAT ON YOU! Loves being able to sink his hands into you while he fucks you, loves being able to appreciate all of you as he runs his tongue over

well. i shan't say. but I think that this more than answers your question.

adios......................

[twentytomidnight]

beach day (Guy Gardner/Reader)

‼️smut/18+only, public sex, ambiguous genitalia‼️

Yeah, baby,” Guy grunts as he snaps his hips against the full of your ass, his fingers clutching into your waist, “You like that, huh?”

You can’t really say anything—after all, you’re trying so hard to keep your moans muffled with the balled fist you have stuffed against your mouth. But it’s hard when he’s fucking into you like this, sinking his cock into you—letting your walls swallow him up.

With these electric jolts of pleasure that send shivers up your spine, it’s hard for your other hand to keep proper purchase on the slick bathroom wall—but you know it’s necessary.

You can hear the faint, ambient crush of waves from outside, see the shadows of moving people enjoying a day at the beach. They’re all blissfully unaware the two of you are committing such indecent, clandestine act in this stall. It’s obscene, it’s filthy—but when his cock sinks into you again you couldn’t care less.

“Don’t get shy on me now,” he grits through his teeth, and slaps a hand against your ass hard—before you can even react to the shock of pain that blossoms out, he seats you on him to the hilt. And this summons an involuntary whimper of pleasure that echoes off the cramped walls.

“Guy—”—You beg, but he’s pulling you flush against him, letting you feel the toned landscape of his stomach, his firm chest that radiates heat. His thrusts are shallow from this angle, but they still manage to sink into you with that plap-plap-plap of his skin on yours. And then you can’t really focus on anything else but the velvet glide of his cock as he fucks you.

“Oh, fuck—”—You gasp, and he chuckles. The hand that spanked you slinks up the column of your neck, keeping you in place as he keeps this same rhythm that has your toes curling against your flip-flops.

“Yeah,” he’s smug but you couldn’t care less, “Lessee how many times I can make ya come ‘fore we get caught.”

It sounds like he’s making it a challenge—but right now, with the way he’s fucking you—you could hardly give a fuck about the consequences.

hope this improves your day @sweetmourninglamb111

[twentytomidnight]

never trust a redhead

Guy Gardner/Reader, Wally West/Reader, Roy Harper/Reader, Matt Murdock/Reader, 2.1K

a/n: my partner is ginger i hold no ill will against gingers this is in good fun

cw: flirting, nudity (Matt's part), playful discrimination against gingers, gn!reader (no description of features/clothing)

masterlist ao3 requests

PREVIEW:

Too bad your man doesn't like your opinion. Guess it's up to him to change your mind. Guy Gardner/Reader, Wally West/Reader, Roy Harper/Reader, Matt Murdock/Reader

Guy Gardner:

"What?" Guy asks in abject, offended disbelief. "Who told you that?"

He doesn't seem to be enjoying the particulars of the statement that you just regaled him with—but that's okay. You didn't expect him to—after all, it's not his fault that he happens to be a ginger. Everything else, however, does happen to be his fault.

This is why you offer him nothing but idle smirk as you stand your ground opposite him on the kitchen island, folding your hands over each other. He leans a determined hip on the marble, scowling—though the manifestation of a smile at the challenge you're lobbying at him seems to be making quick headway.

"No one did." You reply back smartly, staunchly. Defiantly—the way his smile grows in size indicates just how much he likes it. "I just know because of interacting with you."

"Me?" His eyes widen, those thick eyebrows tick up his forehead, a wide hand splays over the span of that chest. "I'm a fuckin' paragon of virtue."

"Oh?" Your laugh comes immediately and unbidden at this blatant lie. "Big words, big guy."

His hackles rise, his shoulders spread, he takes a daring step forwards to you across the space that elapses between you both. He likes 'em with a little bit of fight in 'em. And the fact that you haven't provided verbal or physical retreat means he's happy to keep invading closer and closer.

"You know it—"—Guy rolls his head on his neck, in slow, languid swivel, "I got my education and everything."

You chuff in good cheer as he comes closer and you have to bid crane your neck up to him. "And they couldn't teach you any manners while they were there?"

He makes a scoff that clearly demonstrates his opinion on the subject. "Who needs manners when you're a classy fella like me?"

For good measure, he leans in closer to make sure that you're face-to-face with the broad span of his chest that is barely restrained by the tight green shirt he wears. God, it fits him so well. That smug look on his face as he watches you appraising the goods is also excellent complement as well.

You finally tear your eyes away from the appealing display, cocking up your brow. "What's your definition of class?"

Another step advanced, a smile that makes protracted growth. Oh, how happy he is to answer your question.

"Someone who makes sure to tell you how good you look." To provide example, his eyes take dedicated appraisal of your body, lingering on the parts he finds most visually interesting.

"Depends on how you say it, Guy." You say, your tone dry enough that he can't resist meeting the cant of your eyes.

"Never heard you complain." He offers in sly reply; another step that is made so that you are close enough to grasp. "Mebbe it's someone who's always tryin' to make sure they got your best interests at heart."

"Oh," You snort at this very elegant spin, "Is that what you call it?"

"Yeah," he agrees, his hand already taking familiar place upon the slope of your hips. Pulling you close into an embrace that you know very well.

"Someone who knows how to sweep ya off yer feet." Guy concludes, holding you with a significant stare—before he leans down to kiss you.

And it's wicked, the way that his teeth nip at your bottom lip so that he can summon the noises he likes from you—the way that his hands are already roaming around your body, trying to ensure that you are thoroughly flustered when you pull away.

And when you do, you're heaving for breath that you must take great instance to cycle through your body. He doesn't care—he's the cat who ate the canary, and intends to go back for seconds.

"Mmmm." You hum as you feel him pulling you back to again. "I guess you have a point."

Guy seems to be happy that you agree with the notion.

Wally West:

"Don't trust gingers?" Wally offended voice seems to be threatening octaves he hasn't attempted since prepubescence. You can't smother the smile that's already making tracks across your face as you watch him dart across the perimeter of the room to take closer audience to you.

"What did we do to you as a people?" He asks, stately representative on behalf of Derided Gingers International—and the glare that sparks across his face is clear that he's determined to have this out with you. Which, you already knew was going to happen the second you lobbied this statement at him.

You point an accusatory finger at him that he zeroes in on with disdainful regard.

"Sneaky. Mischievous." You arch a brow at him, daring him to say otherwise—his focus is riveted upon the next point of your argument. "Always have to have the last word."

He opens his mouth, decides that the profanity-laden first response will not suffice, and opts for something more diplomatic.

"That could describe anyone." He returns in rebuttal, holding his hands out to you at this crime that you've committed against him. This willful, hateful prejudice that attacks him to the core.

But you are unmoved. Even if those baby blues seem to be rife with a desperate need for appeasement. You won't succumb to them—yet.

"In my experience," You grin in dry fashion, "It describes you pretty well."

He makes a noise of appalled offense, and crosses his arms in stalwart manner across his chest. "I don't have to have the last word."

You can't resist your laugh as you gesture between you and Exhibit A. "Then what do you call this?"

"Call it—"—Wally searches the foreground of his thought for proper wording and comes away satisfied—"—Having a dedicated debate."

"Where you have to be the final speaker?" You ask with no small amount of amusement running undercurrent in your voice. Wally hems and haws for the span of a second, looking at the ground before giving you what he considers a winning smile. And damn him if it doesn't fit him oh-so-handsomely.

"And if there's a problem with that?" Wally asks with a cheeky smile, taking jaunty stride towards you.

"You're just proving my point." You reply. But the smile isn't chased away at this—he knows that he has a way to worm back into your good graces.

"But I do it so well, don't I?" He asks, and the look that he gives you is dashing, playful—most immoral indeed. But you don't stop him as he inches into the boundary of your space that you allow him to enter. After all, when he regales you with the pleasure of his presence, you know better than to turn him away.

"You do." You finally concede on his behalf as he drapes longing, needful arms around you. "But you didn't convince me."

"Maybe," His eyebrows wiggle in flirtatious manner, "I don't need to speak to do that."

"Oh, brother." You roll your eyes to the ceiling as he presses a slow, loitering kiss on the edge of your jaw.

"Don't you mean," He grins into the shell of your ear, "Oh, Wally?"

Roy Harper:

"You're right." Roy seems otherwise nonplussed at your assertion that you've supplied to him. "We're a superstitious, cowardly lot."

"Exactly." You find yourself relieved that he takes no opposition to what you've told him—so you decide to take further refuge in audacity. "And you don't clean up after yourselves."

"Yeah," Roy also agrees as he lounges in steep recline on the couch, "We indulge in that terrible sin of sloth."

"And wrath." You offer, recalling some rather intense moments of combat in patrols past. He also finds himself unmoved at the continual barrage you are providing to him.

"And greed." Roy says, and it's here that he begins to make significant movement across the couch to you.

Not that you would stop him, when he makes such impressive flex of those biceps across the cushions. When his thighs make such defined flex against those sweatpants—in addition to other…lower assets called into such mouthwatering definition as he shuffles closer to you.

But his statement does draw you up short in confusion.

"Greed?" You ask mildly as he continues to mosey on along your way. "Greed for what?"

"Greed for our partners—"—He drawls as he finishes crossing the meridian of the couch to you—"—And for their kisses."

"Oh?" You inquire as one of those great, muscular arms drapes across the back of the couch—and finds familiar settlement across the span of your shoulders. "Is that so?"

"And lust." He informs you. It's quite interesting how he seems to have energy in reserve for the way that he sidles up with impressive speed.

"Is that so?" You ask, and there's the ghost of restrained smile that is making passage on his face as he looks at you. As he seems to be making rather steadfast regard of the nuances of your mouth.

"Oh, lust." Roy agrees with your statement, letting you see the gleam of those teeth as he continues to admire you.

"Terrible, terrible lust for them." He continues. "And if it isn't sated—"—His hand encourages you to look at him, to see the hunger that is displayed in his eyes—"—Watch out."

You laugh across the terrain of his lips. "Thought you were slothful."

"Not with you. With you—"—He takes deep, circuitous breath to appreciate your scent, your proximity—you—"—Think I can engage in that sin of pride."

"Pride over what?" You tease, already knowing that you'll be most pleased with his answer.

Roy doesn't disappoint. "Pride I got such a babe in my arms."

And with the way that he pulls you to him in passionate kiss, you find that you're more swayed to his argument than you expected to be.

Matt Murdock:

"Frankly, I find the stereotype insulting." Matt says from where he lounges on the span of your bed, in state of delicious undress. Unfortunately, you can't appreciate it as much as you wish, for you've summoned the more litigious side of your naked lover.

And he seems to be on the good-humored warpath to discuss with you, so you prop yourself up on elbow as he begins cross-examination.

"To be judged for something I can't even see." He says, and there's a crooked smile that tells you it's all in good fun—if you play along.

"Unfortunately though," You return in retort to him, "You fit all the aspects."

Matt makes wry noise at the fact that you would commit such prejudiced statement against him—his eyes stare in your general, reproachful direction.

"Aspects that are based on slander and centuries of discriminatory practices?" He demands, and you chuckle at the heated note that bleeds into his voice.

"Aspects that you fit to a tee." You return, finding yourself instinctively moving across the diameter of the mattress to him. Trying to soothe that offended smile on his face into something more reconciliatory.

"Such as?" He asks, awaiting for you to provide proper thesis. But the smile seems to grow as he hears you approach, as he reaches out to find the incline of your arm and rub a calloused thumb into it.

"A need to be incorrigible." You provide to him, and he makes dubious laugh at this.

"Something that could be attributed to my lawyering." He replies without missing a beat. Still his arm continues to coax its way up your shoulder, making a shiver of goosebumps dart up you.

"The desire to find loopholes in any argument made." You incline your head to visually analyze him through the span of your lashes, though he can't see it.

He appears unmoved at this reasoning. "That could be my tenacity."

"The overarching desire to be morally just in any situation." You declare in progression of your argument.

"My personal code I abide by, perhaps?" He asks, his knuckle drifting over the pulse in your neck. How warm and welcome his hand is here.

"The lingering guilt—"—You proceed forward, and then pause in sudden realization—"—Wait."

"What?" Matt asks, his hand taking protracted analysis of your cheek. "Change of heart?"

"Yes—actually." You say—his eyebrows jump up in surprise, waiting to hear your hypothesis.

"It's not that you're ginger—"—You lean forward to him in conspiratorial manner so he can hear the smile in your inflection—"—It's that you're Catholic."

Matt laughs long, loud, and clear—and you can't resist joining him.

"Well," Matt closes in to find your mouth, "We can't all be perfect, can we?"

Perhaps not—though the way his mouth fits against yours certainly is.

dividers made by me :)

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