#Ehhh?

[bisexual-horror-fan]

BEX I’M SO EXCITED TO REQUEST SOMETHING FROM YOU!!! It’s nothing fancy, but may I request something where New Nightmare Freddy just mercilessly eats out an AFAB reader? Like, he’s just totally nasty and messy and keeps going until Reader’s a sobbing overstimulated mess? I have a major need. Please and thank you Bex, you’re the best <3

Ahhh! ACE! So I know this took me a minute but I am so happy with how it came out! Just some filthy fucking nasty pussy eating! What more do you need! Got this in under the wire but happy Valentines day, eh? I agree we need more NN! Freddy, he is the best and I hope to do more of him this year! Let’s not waste time, let’s go!

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 2.5K. NN!Freddy X AFAB! GN! Reader. No Pronouns Specified. Warnings. Use Of Bitch. Degradation. Dirty Talk. Dub-Con. Forced Orgasm. Cunnlingus. Fingering. Face Sitting. Knife Play. Pain Play. Fear Play. Blood Play. Chase. Cum Play. Freddy Just Being Gross. Crying. Overstimulation. Nipple Play. Rimming.

—

“We’re Done When I Say Were Done.”

—

He hasn’t needed to eat in years. 

His body isn’t sustained by regular food. And yet still needs something to maintain himself, just what he gets energy from is different now. He gets power and life from taking it away from others, from making them utterly helpless and terrified and ultimately killing them, consuming their soul, stealing the very life force that made them, them. That is what he truly needs nowadays. He was more than capable of taking it, in fact the build up and the execution of it were far too fun for him, he loved drawing out the experience, “playing” with his food. 

There are so many ways to toy with one’s food, and so, so many ways to feed one’s self, and currently we find him, between your spread thighs, eating you in such a fashion that while it doesn’t physically nourish him, it does satisfy him in a different sense.

You however were still trying to contend with the sheer speed with which he had snuck up on you, struck up a chase, and had managed to catch you. Seemed no matter which way you turned he was always right fucking there.

He did it with such ease there was no cloying or taunting variation of the oh so original, “Caught ya.” Because it wasn’t necessary. You filled in the blank for him in your mind and he could hear it, I mean this all technically did take place in your head didn’t it? You didn’t like to think about the mechanics, it could make your head hurt and you had a much more serious life and death situation to focus on at the moment.  

When you were below him and he raised that sickening hand that was a mish-mash of exposed muscle and bone and blades, your eyes squeezed shut and you waited for the killing blow. 

But it never came.

He didn’t end you like you might have thought, his hand fell, he did slash, but the razors only caught your shirt, your eyes flying open in surprise, and from the mild jolt of pain from the few thin cuts that grazed your stomach. He fed his fingers through the slits he made into your shirt with ease, he curled his fingers and he pulls, hard.

The fabric gives way and you jerk in fear as your torso is exposed, the remnants tossed aside, he finally acknowledges you, a sneer as he asks, “Scared?”

He leaves no time for you to respond as next the poor excuse for bottoms you wore to bed that night were torn away to join the same fate as your shirt. He was so strong, it took him no effort to strip you totally bare except for the sweat that had built up on your body from the chase through this blistering hell hole of steam and pipes and cracked concrete. 

His monstrous hand came down, blades teased featherlight over your chest, cold metal brushed over your nipples and you inhaled harshly, sucking down a deep and shuddering breath as the sensitive skin stiffened into hardened peaks. The expression he wore was sadistic, the smirk twisted, his fingers closed on one and he pinched, he pulled and turned, rolling it in his grasp and making you let out a small and strained sound in response. 

“I think you can do better than that, right?” 

He tugged hard and you let out a yelp and he almost praised you but the tone and expression undercut it, making it fall just shy, “Better. But still pathetic.”

You feel the smoothness of cool leather against your thigh and the unmistakable hardness below it and the feeling of that forced upon you simultaneously turns your stomach and makes your clit throb. 

Again there was no time to pour over or process because he rocked against your thigh as his bladed hand abandoned your chest, drags lower, fingers spreading the small amount of blood that had welled up from the tiny cuts he gave you earlier. He didn’t stop until two of his fingers were bordering either side of your clit, a small squeeze and your breath catches, eyes slightly unfocused and he was watching your face the whole time. You could almost hear the pleased purr at the reaction he got from the smallest touch, he could feel the confusing mix and mess inside of you. The fear and the slight nausea, the confusion and of course the shameful, guilty arousal. It was totally delicious, almost as good as it could get without killing you. 

But not quite, there is still something better to partake in and he was intending to soon after a little more playing with you.

Your breathing was ragged, the fear was close to outweighing every other feeling because of how close the blades were on his fingers, the dangerous position. How one small slip up could fucking ruin and utterly destroy such a sensitive and intimate part of you. He didn’t stop his small probing and manipulation and how you had no clue what to do, to pull away or hump embarrassingly into his touch to get more of what you clearly craved. His fingers left you and your body went slack, relaxing until he laid down a firm and solid hit right where he had been touching previously. Your body bowed from the intense jerk of pain to your system along with a choked off moan. He let out a laugh that was somewhere between amused and malicious. “Hurts, hmm?”

A shaky nod and he repeated the action, harder and you whined from the abuse he brought to your clitoris. He tsk’d and a few more smacks hit strong and true, each one causing you to release another all too amusing sound and while you were still reeling from the last hit he took the opportunity to do what he really wanted. 

He could smell your cunt, you were more than ready and he was simply dying to satiate that other lingering hunger he had. His hands on your hips he jerks you up and you inhale harshly, you were staring up at him, wondering his next move as he ground the smooth leather against you. The slick from you spread over the clothed bulge of his erection as he moved and he said in the most mocking way possible, “I’m sorry.”

He leaned down closer, “I’ll make it up to you.”

A harsh swallow before you asked, “How?”

He started to slip down, hands moving as he went, more thin cuts along your hip and down your outer thigh as he went, you hissed at the hurt and he hummed out as he found his place between your thighs, resting on his stomach as he provided the answer to you. He leaned in, unnaturally long tongue slipping out of his mouth before licking a strip up the middle of you from hole to above your clit making you cry out and arch before he told you, “I’ll kiss it better.” 

You think if anyone else but him said that you would cringe and roll away but the heat behind it made you melt even more so than the heat in here already was. 

Any lingering want to push him away or for this to stop has been put to bed when his mouth is back on you. 

How could one ever begin to describe the taste of you in this state?

Describing how a person tastes might be difficult for some, trying to nail down and put words to the flavour of an individual, but he isn’t regular, is he? No, he isn’t human at all, he is so, so much more than that. He himself is like a collection of words, a living, breathing, idea, a story currently in motion and as such he has more than ample ability to describe what your needy and soaked cunt tastes like. 

The unique cocktail that made up you was nothing short of delectable. A hot, heady, silky mixture, salt and a particular tang to it that was immensely pleasing to the palette. They say what you eat affects how you taste but again he isn’t mortal, he can glean so much more from the taste you provide, he swears that he can in fact, “-taste how desperate you are.”

He barely lifted his head or broke contact with his mouth to share that lovely little fact with you and dove back in between your thighs tongue first before you could even begin to conjure an adequate response, or a response period. You tasted like just what he knew you would and just what he needed, pure, unfiltered, barely contained fucking whore. It was just below the surface and he could bring it out to play with a few well placed licks.

He seriously wondered how long you had been deprived of anything like this, it felt like it had been ages from how you were responding. And speaking of, right now you were very tense, breathing shallow and thighs threatening to almost suffocate him, (well if he actually needed to breathe of course-), from how hard they held his head. His hands took care of that. Spread you wide and force your legs apart and flat to the surface of the bed to truly allow himself to do what he needed. You were gasping for air in short order as his tongue delved inside your parted lips, into your soaked and clenching hole, curving up and upon touching a particular spot you made the best sound you had so far tonight. 

Back to you though and how you were handling all this. Your mind was a soupy mess of pleasure and scattered thoughts, trying to cling to anything as he ate you out in a way that felt like the one series of letters and syllables that could fit it was ferocious. How could he do this? Move his tongue inside you with such ease and simultaneously so much force? Your end was speeding towards you at a blinding pace. 

His mouth seems too large. His tongue is still inside you, moving, sliding in and out, curling and working but also you could feel the wet heat of the rest of his mouth covering your clit, as if he managed to encompass your whole vulva with his horrible maw. Legs twitching underneath his hands, the string inside you threatening to snap, eyes squeezed shut and there was nothing you could have done to stop the impending orgasm, it overtook beautifully. A deep inhale in while you were on the edge and when you exhaled you were cumming. 

You moaned, deep and genuine, voice wavering from the strength of it and your voice wasn’t the only sound. Eating someone out the way he was, it isn’t a quiet affair, it sounds lewd and obscene and wet, but more than that too, he also let out a moan against you upon the peak of sensation. The moan sent vibrations that made your body try to jerk against him, increasing it all even further. 

He loved this part, feeling you clenching rhythmically around his tongue, undeniable evidence of what he forced from you. What made it even more delicious was the lingering reluctance, the wish that you weren’t so fucking into it and cumming so hard from the mouth of a literal monster. 

His hunger was far from satisfied. 

He didn’t slow even when your orgasm subsided. He kept going. The attempts at thrashing were ignored as was the beginnings of your pleas for him to, “Stop! Fuck, please-It’s too ahhhn, too much!” 

Of course it was too much, it was all by design, it was the entire point. 

You tasted better after cumming, he wasn’t sure how but you just did and of course, you were wetter even though some of it had to be from him. Long tongue slid out, he pulled back and in that deep, unnatural voice he told you, mockingly, “Scream all you want, I’m not stopping because you want me to, this isn’t about you.”

Confusion painting your features, “I-it’s not?”

A laugh, a sickening sound that made you clench around nothing and also made your hair stand on end before he tells you, “No it’s not. This is about me feeding myself from this-” His hand between your legs, his thumb stroking up and down your clit, dipping into your soaked hole, you hissed slightly from the overstimulation, “-sweet cunt. It is the best thing you have to offer me, addictive taste and I am going to eat it until I am done, no sooner.”

And then a funny little thing happened, him saying that, the look in his eyes, his hands on you, the fear you had felt totally melted away. True to his word, he didn’t stop, didn’t relent, more probing of his tongue, harsh sucks of sensitive flesh, nips of sharp teeth and cuts from his bladed fingers on your hips and thighs. The pleasure and pain intermingles in this scarily intense blend that makes you feel like you might lose your mind. He talks and what is odd is that when he does at points he doesn’t break away, you still feel the moves of his mouth but hear the sounds of his voice reverberating on the walls around you, he asks humiliating questions, makes impossible requests, expects you to keep track of the times you fall apart because of him and how could you ever do that? He forces you into many a degrading position, dragging you easily into whatever configuration he wishes, making you grind on his face as he holds you so hard you bruise. He leaves no part of you below the waist free from his mouth, clit and both holes are delved inside and abused till you gape and have wetness rolling down your shaking legs all while he orders you to- “Ride my tongue you desperate bitch.”

You are so far gone your body moves on it’s own, pace is uneven but you do as he wishes.

You genuinely lose count, you have moments of the briefest lucidity but they don’t last, you are lost to feeling and to the all consuming nature of him. He presses on the fresh cuts, makes blood spill and intermingle with slick and spit and sweat, he tastes all of you, everything you have to offer. When it all becomes way too much, when you have cum more than you think you ever have or maybe ever will again, too tender to have another wrung from you, the tears fall and you feel him break away only to be back on top of you. His tongue is back on you, tasting the salt laden streaks pouring down your cheeks and then he finally seems satiated, having tasted every single fluid he wanted from you. The last thing you remember before waking up was him nearly cooing about how you were a, “-perfect midnight meal.”

[bagog]

Fat Cat (The Deist)

I am dead Three years, now. And the cat who outlived me (thank God) Sleeps on my spot on the couch As if it were still warm, As if I had only just stood up, And do not intend to return.

[dancingisdangerouss]

Hear me out if you will… Kit Harington as young Al? 👀 I can see it.

Hmm. I see your young Al, and I raise you this:

Kit Harington as a young Max?

[chowtrolls]

Hey, Dia. They brought Twitch back.

Your message to Jodiah is received in the form of a text message. The number is unknown, simply appearing at the numbers '108' and as such, he doesn't open it. He instead returns to sweeping. Assisting his rustblooded friend in cleaning up his old barn has been keeping Dia sane lately. Staying busy helps him not focus on what bothers him.

He finally opens the message during a much needed break. Sitting on the hood of that rusted muscle car, the words don't quite process to him. He blinks a few times, uncertain if he truly read them correctly.

Of course they did. He knew this was coming. He glanced up at Festur, who was in the process of moving a bucket of metal scraps aside. He never expected this to happen so quickly- Festur had told him the Ghoulkeeper worked for weeks to revive him. It was near impossible to revive someone without a body. They had to find the right surrogate- how could Daseos have possibly known all of this? How could any of them? His pusher was racing, bringing forth a familiar sharp pain in his chest. His mask beeped softly to alert him of the possible cardiac episode.

What if they picked the wrong surrogate, and she died again? How could Daseos possibly be a better necromancer than an ancestor who spent his whole life perfecting the art? Why didn't he help? He could've been there- he chose to pretend not to hear. Anger rose in bubbles, then guilt for being angry, guilt for being disappointed. Anxiety, urgency, lightheadedness as his chest ached, the smell of ozone. The feeling of eyes boring into him- of time slowing down as the Festur tried to dig into his memories.

The rust's eyes were clouded over as he reached into Dia's mind, as he grasped for what upset him. Because of such, he couldn't see the dustpan aimed right for his head. The impact severed the mental connection, making him stagger back in confusion and pain. By the time Festur shook off the remaining fog, regaining his footing, the lime was long gone.

[arczism]

hunt or be hunted 🌆

[itgr]

Compilation of foreshadowing from early season 1 (pt 1)

[Aka one autistic guy re read season one instead of going to season two and compiled sussy moments. SPOILERS AHEAD]

LITERALLY IN THE PROLOGUE KY SAYS THIS

Ep 2. the "we both know I'm not here to make friends" is deranged

Ep 5. I find it cool how attentions brought to the wings without being too obvious

Ep 11. It's not much but i just find his expression here to be pretty calculating and in hindsight, it's like. Yeahhhhh

Ep 13. STARES. 👁👁 (it's also interesting how he's interrupted again)

Ep 18. "I'm here for a reason"....

Ep 21. This might be a stretch but his expression here reminds me of his expressions later on when he's more himself. And also the way his eyes widen when Del walks away and calls him out on interrogating him for info. Idk

Ep 27. It's the way Ky chokes on his food when Ree brings up the idea of Scra being a spy for the government-

[emziess]

Challengers dir. Luca Guadagnino (2024)

[cheese-ception]

please, the cheese! @mllorei​ ilysm, lmao this was so needed @venulus​ would you perhaps do me the honor of getting rained upon by this humble offering of my unending grate-titude?  if that’s not too cheesy to ask that, obviously 

last night I had a dream that there was a tumblr update and the only thing it changed was that for two minutes straight you could sprinkle shredded cheese on other blogs and their posts, and everyone's dashboard was just pandemonium as everyone cheesed each other. two minutes of abominable amounts of shredded cheese raining from the dash. tumblr at its finest. get cheesed

[rystiel]

i keep seeing people say the doctor shouldn’t have feelings for rogue because he’s married to river…? river song… who has also married multiple people… one of the most polyamorous characters in the show…?

[nopeferatu]

ugh.. going on the wranglers lj drives me crazy. there's sooo many of these supposed great lost fics, but honestly...of all the ones i've been sent, 271horses' have been the only ones that lived up to the hype. and they have comparatively less hype surrounding them than other ones :/

[hyolks]

nina's a little bit older here but she's still very much a little sister to them!!

[grimark]

got distracted while going through my ds9 screencaps and had to draw this contemplative and sensitive sisko slay

bonus sketch version because i like him

[ynnu-64]

Kind of photo redraw

[fulgurbugs]

Luffy fan server

[lavendermaster]

blake redesign i love drawing her chunky

this isnt a year old project what are you talking about

[bi-writes]

ok i have this idea for alpha!ghost and omega!reader. this is a very, very rough draft and is not even close to anything with real meat, but i would like to get some early feedback about this idea i have.

"I'm not here as a friend," she says softly, and you frown a little.

"Aren't...haven't we always been friends?" You ask, and Kate lets out a shaky sigh, nodding her head behind her.

"We need to talk. C'mon."

You retrieve the gun and holster it, fastening it around your thigh holster before you follow her. She has a car waiting outside, a big, black SUV with the door already open for her. When you get inside, she knocks on the divider, and the car immediately starts moving. You brace yourself against the side of the car as it speeds off, reaching for a seatbelt.

"Jesus, Kate, what's going on? I-I have training later, I can't--"

"You're not...going back to base," she says evenly. You frown a little, leaning back in your seat, and you put your hands in your lap as you try and get a read on her. Even exhausted, Kate is hard to decipher. She has a stone-cold expression, calm and unbothered, and you curse her CIA training for making her impossible to understand, to even get a glimpse of what she might say next.

"Okay," you scoff a little. "Then where am I going?"

Kate sniffs a little, crossing her arms over her chest. She doesn't break eye contact with you when she says, "Wheels up in 30. I have an assignment for you." She reaches under the seat, pulling out a manila folder, setting it down beside you. When you pick it up and flip it open, you narrow your eyes.

"I'm..." You shrug your shoulders, "I'm not CIA. You don't give me orders."

"As of one hour ago, you're mine. And this...this is your duty."

Your eyes blur as you skim the text on the pages. You flip through the papers flimsily, getting more and more irritated until you throw it at her, your chest rising and falling fast as you pant, barely able to see her through your tears.

"Kate, don't do this," you beg her softly. "Please don't do this. Please. You fucking promised me, you promised--"

"You need to understand that I don't have a lot of fucking choices," she says sharply.

"Kate, I'll do anything, please," you gasp. You reach over and grab her hands, tugging her towards you. "You know. You know what...w-what I've been through, what this all is, you know...please. Please..."

"I can't--"

"I'll be yours," you try, squeezing her palms. "Just claim me yourself, a-and...and we don't have to do this, w-we can...I-I can go back to--"

Her face contorts, offended, disgusted. You try and swallow down the sting of her rejection, but you cannot help yourself. You would do anything to not be subjected to this fate, to the fate she promised she'd save you from. The only alpha you have ever trusted, and she's pulling away from you, bit by bit.

"I could never do that to you," she interrupts, shaking her head. "I couldn't."

"But you'll do this instead?"

"It's the lesser evil," she says finally, pushing your hands back. "And in my world, that is the best I can hope for."

"It's punishment!" You cry, and she reaches over, cupping your cheeks, pulling you close. "A-And for what? For being something that I can't change?!"

"It's mercy," she whispers. "I can't protect you anymore, do you understand? They don't want you there. Even taking meds, even spraying yourself to shit, they don't want you, and I can't protect you if they send you away, do you understand me?" You start to cry, closing your eyes, and you hear the familiar voice in your head sing. She's desperate, slipping through the cracks, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you try and force her backwards. "I have to get you out of there, and this is the only way."

"Please..."

"I can't protect you," she says gently. "But he can. And he'll be good to you. I promise, this...this I can promise."