#also masturbate

[yukkuriyakumo]

Happy 1450th birthday Toyosatomimi no Miko 🏳️‍⚧️

I'm on team buddhist but her swag is unparalleled 🔥🔥

[qwantzfeed]

ceci n'est pas une pipe?  more like ceci n'est pas une intellectual property crime in just a few months and honestly, i hate to wait

[houseswife]

you guys remember when house wanted to move into wilson’s spare bedroom (amber shrine) and the way he chose to communicate this was by jerking off on his couch when he knew wilson would catch him. i’m seriously asking. are they normal about anything

[kerryweaverlesbian]

This can't be a fic it has to use cinnamon toraphy to achieve my dream but if I was writing a deancas body swap episode I'd have them both in their respective new bodies in their own rooms really sheepish in front of the mirror. Split screen. Saying (or trying to get out, and only managing once, in Dean's case) "I love you" in their best approximation of the other's voice and then getting SO embarrassed that they have to hide from their own mirrors. And both interrupted by whoever their respective b-plot partner is (who's going 🤨)

[meadowlarkx]

one day ppl online are gonna have to learn that there's no way to cordon off "male" sexuality as uniquely bad and gross without just ending up saying sexuality is bad and gross on the whole (conservative, reactionary, dangerous, tired)

[crinkle-eyed-boo]

I'll Still Feel the Same Around You by crinkle-eyed-boo (2.4K, E)

He finds himself wishing that the bedsheet would slip down a few more inches so he could get a good look at Harry’s perfectly pert– Louis’ breath hitches as his cock stirs, suddenly very interested in this train of thought.  Oh.  Oh.  The answer to all of Louis’ troubles is so fucking obvious he can’t believe he didn’t think of it until now.  Nothing puts him to sleep like a good orgasm. 

Louis finds the cure for his insomnia in the form of his husband.

A @wankersday fic

[themoonunderstoodmydadjokes]

….

[wokedragon]

The council scene was hilarious but also so sad. Alicent unsubtly demands help from Larys, the first real ally she made in King's Landing, the only one to tell her the truth (Rhaenyra mention 1). A man who also assaults her for a little power thrill on a semi-regular basis, but still, he was on her side. Yes, he bragged about killing people to her face knowing how much she hated it, but he was killing people for her. Now he’s denying her in front of the whole council, demeaning her almost, making her look like an irrational woman who just doesn’t understand the politics of men. And of course, he takes the opportunity to bounce the question right back to Criston!

Criston Cole, someone with whom Alicent, until recent events, shared something most akin to a real friendship. Their relationship started with him divulging the truth about his sex life (Rhaenyra mention 2), and it ended when she began to take part in said sex life. But still, there was for a moment some camaraderie left. He was the father who stepped up even though he should have definitely stepped down to her unwanted kids. He helped her convince Aegon that one time, and ok, it might not be much, but it’s honest work! Still, he was her sworn knight, her guard dog, and now he’s abandoning her too! Her evil goblin boys who have been doing evil things in her name, are now fighting her for custody of her two sons, and she’s losing Badly.

[chilewithcarnage]

im not at all for policing people's bodies and privacy, but like sumn I noticed when it comes to these public sex/masturbation posts is that white queers have kinda this sense of entitlement paired with a victim complex that can only be ascertained with being a person with white privilege on an axis of oppression. that any actions they engage in don't require critique or nuance. like I can see the disparity between the opinions of white ppl vs non black ppl vs black ppl on these types of topics. I saw this a lot as well when people kept ramping up those 'if you're pro gay and pro kink you have to be okay with ALL kinks' type posts. some people just have a sense decorum when it comes to these things and i don't think that automatically means they're playing into respectability politics or are 'puritans' or got internalized homophobia/transphobia.

[mimi-ya]

thinking about when my friend’s mom had a stroke and she suddenly became responsible for all of the medical decisions of both her mom and grandma, had to quit her job, and pack up her entire childhood home to sell it and literally had no other family to help her…

and her boyfriend would really give her shit for her legs and pussy not being shaved consistently…

men really have the audacity sometimes

[isaut]

𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒖𝒅𝒆— f!reader x captain rex. 1.2k. ao3

rex is back on the fleet ship. he's completely on task, like he always is... previous. masterlist.

The fleet ship hums around Rex. He sits in one of the deck chairs, eyes trained on the datapad in front of him. It's the report from the last mission, he really needs to be focusing on this, this needs to be done tonight… Instead, his mind cannot stay focused. He needs to take a cold shower, with the images that keep flashing through his mind. 

Espresso. Sweet cookies. Sweetness. Warmth. The images aren’t even stale, he can still feel your hand wrapped around him, separated by the thin of a condom. 

“Hey.” 

Rex still hasn’t forgotten the tightness, the squeeze right before the climax. The wetness all over him. Gods, the wetness all over him. The mournful way he’d cleaned himself up in the bathroom.

“Hey.” 

The second interruption is accompanied by a pair of hands landing on his shoulders. Rex startles, which is very unlike him. He looks over his shoulder and is met with General Skywalker’s familiar face. 

Immediately, he snaps to attention. Stands up, still holding the datapad. “General, I didn’t notice you.” 

“I figured.” Anakin waves his hand and Rex relaxes his stance. “I have two things. One, do you have the reports done? Plo is asking for them.” 

“Almost done, sir.” Shit. 

“And two, you’re thinking really loud.” Anakin bites down on the inside of his cheek to hide the smile forming on his face. “Like really loud.” 

Embarrassment courses through Rex’s body. Suddenly, his suit is a thousand degrees. Jedi and their sensitivity. This time he doesn’t have the cover of his brothers and the exhaustion of battle to keep from the prodding. 

“Glad you had fun on Naboo,” Anakin says, his grin escaping from his teeth. “Again.”

Rex clears his throat. “I should really get back to the report.” 

“Sure,” Anakin says. He turns to leave, then stands in front of the doorway. “Hey, better me than Plo, right?” 

“Yessir,” Rex replies, feeling even warmer. 

Anakin places his hand over his heart. “They’re something else. Your secret’s safe with me.” 

Anakin’s words rattle in his brain: women from Naboo are something else. Rex swallows. And “Thank you, sir.” 

Anakin gives him a lazy salute. The doors slide open, and leaves Rex alone in the room. With a long exhale, Rex looks out to the endless darkness of the galaxy. He rubs his hand over his hair, collapsing back into his seat. 

With his exhaustion, Rex treats himself to a warm shower. The fourth shower stall on the second hall of the captain’s area in the barracks is the best one. It has the best shower pressure, has the purple shampoo, and the cucumber body wash. Rex likes his showers in the middle of the night to ensure that there’s no one else using it. Out of over fifty showers, he doesn’t think it gets used often. 

The sound of the water coming from the faucet, combined with the sound of shower shoes on tile, is the only noise in the area. The pitter patter is almost meditative. Rex’s mind wanders, floating about as he stares at the white tiles. You have nice tiles, a creative mosaic in your bathroom. Everything on Naboo seems artisanal, down to the way you live. The way you talk. The way you touch. 

Rex’s hand hovers over the shower knob. He should go to bed. There’s an uncomfortable hardness brewing between his legs. He should blast himself with cold water and go to bed. Cold water is good for his hair. 

But the water is warm. It’s adding a red hue to his skin. He’s comfortable. It’s cold on the ship. It’ll be cold in his room. It’s– 

Rex’s hand slides down his pelvis, until the conjuncture of his thumb and first finger meets the base of his cock. He hesitates for a moment, looking down his chest. Water slips past him, over his head and down the sides of his face. 

He thinks about your shower. He thinks about you in your shower. He pumps himself to the thought of all your exposed skin, warmed by the steady stream of warm water. He imagines that you take hot showers, scalding hot showers, just like him. He imagines that you’d be impressed that he indulges in hot showers. 

A sigh leaves his lips as his fist travels towards his head then back down. He inhales, deep, as he presses his free hand against the wall and leans forward. Another shaky breath as he passes his thumb over the head of his cock, spreading a speck of precome over the growing head. 

Rex swallows. His hand is no way comparable to yours, it’s too broad, too rough. There’s no softness. There’s a gentleness that he simply cannot match. 

He replays a common memory for him now. You, straddling him. Hand between your thighs, reaching for his cock. The feeling of his fingers bumping up against yours. The warmth as you sunk down on him. The look on your face, the pinched brows, the open mouth, the little moan from the back of your throat. 

Rex almost mimics it, but it comes out as a heavy sigh. 

Then there’s all your skin flashing through his mind. The vanilla, the rose, the shea butter. The taste of coffee on your tongue. Your tongue. Soft and moving against his– Rex twists his wrist. Another shaky breath escapes his lips. 

Truly, Rex doesn’t know how he lasted so long. His short timeframe had been a blessing, had been able to hide that he easily could have come just from sinking into you, from the feeling of your walls pulsing around him from the–

Rex’s jaw hinges open. His eyes squeeze shut. He rests his forehead against the hand pressing against the wall. Milky white spills from the head of his cock. Rex’s thigh shakes. 

He pumps himself as he comes, pumps himself after he’s finished, until he’s a hair tender. Only because he imagines you would do the same thing, with a breathy smile on your lips and a glimmer in your eye. 

Rex stands under the scalding spray, watching the water wash away his release. He takes gulps of steamy air. Unhooks his washcloth and pumps body wash onto the cloth. 

He washes his legs again, and while the cloth rubs over his thighs, he tries not to think of your lips there, of your tongue there, doing what his cloth is doing currently. He tries not to think of you doing exactly what he’s doing, cleaning himself off. He thinks, instead, of cleaning you up. Of the cloth against your thighs, of the essence he had to swipe away. 

He should have used his tongue. 

Rex shuts the water off. 

It’s silent, in the shower hall. He towels himself off in the stall, and changes in the open. With his towel slung over his shoulder, he walks back to his room. 

It’s small. Just a bed on metal and a little counter, a little mirror. Rex hangs up his towel and comes over to his neatly made bed. He reaches a hand under the mattress and pulls out the little sticky note with your frequency on it. 

(17) 21-54-9875-6720

Rex has stared at it for a long time. Has dragged his thumb over the penned in numbers. The 9875-6720 stares out at him. Calls out to him. 75-67. 

Rex tucks the paper back under his mattress. He turns out the light. Flops onto his back. Stares up at the ceiling, at the blinking, red light there. It could go off any second, calling him into action. 

The Force works in mysterious ways. Rex rolls over to his stomach. Wraps an arm around his pillow. Closes his eyes. Sleep finds him, and dreams cradle him against her warm chest.

[lil-gingerbread-queen]

So-called Christians still whining about the Olympic opening ceremony supposedly "insulting Christianity", but none of them gave a fuck about Israel bombing the oldest Church in Gaza months ago.