#he's so sexyyyyy

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price as Waldo Trumbull

The Comedy of Terrors (1964) // dir. Jacques Tourneur

[inkykeiji]

Vox and electrical play I'm losing my mind

I KNOW he'd zap you when you get too close to cumming, a silent signal for you to stop nnnnnnnhhhjjhhhhh

OKAY YES YES YES holy shit anon this is an absolutely delicious idea and my brain totally short-circuited (lol) when i read it ooooh my gosh

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, electrical play, edging, implied mindbreak, overstimulation words: 428

he likes to use the electricity conducted in his claws—finds it more personal, more intimate that way—and will absolutely use it to edge you. he knows your body so well, has analyzed all of your mannerisms and micro-expressions right down to every twitch and quiver and whine, so he knows how to pull you apart and painstakingly put you back together. he knows that the trembling of your thighs means you’re teetering on the edge of ecstasy; that the scratching of your nails at his wrists, his shoulders, his chest means more, more, more, fuck me harder, faster, rougher; that the rolling of your eyes, whites framed by fluttering lashes, means your brain’s turned to a pleasant buzz of incoherent static.

as such, he knows exactly when to strike.

it’s so sweet to see the way you jolt with each zap—he swears it’s one of his favourite sights, the way your flesh ripples so prettily as the current surges through your veins. he swears he can almost see it, that bolt of teal electricity racing your blood, leaving sizzling sweat beading on your skin. 

it’s so precious, how a little too much will leave you stunned and stupid, body gone rigid for a few seconds before it mollifies beneath his touch again, shimmering cords of drool oozing from your mouth and crystalline tears embellishing your eyes, glittering as they catch on the jagged strikes of cyan lightning cracking around his form.

it’s so cute when you ask him for more even after his relentless assault, your body malleable and aching, fresh burns in the shape of his claws singed into your hips and thighs, your pleads heavy with pleasure and tangled in threads of spit. it makes him feel fucking incredible, invincible, how desperate you are for him, how devoted you are to him, even as he sears your mind to nothing but pretty blue cinders. it’s beautiful; you’re beautiful with him coursing through your body—his electricity crackling in your muscles, his love fizzing in your heart, his cock stuffing your cunt to the brim. 

but what he doesn’t expect is when his warning tases evoke the opposite of the intended effect—instead of halting your orgasm, it accelerates it, the sparks zipping through your veins coalescing in the pit of your tummy and forming one dense, pulsing ball of heat, furling tighter and tighter in on itself until it explodes, your cunt convulsing around him in the cutest spasms, gushing all over his cock. 

and, oh, he just learned some very valuable information. 

author’s note: alsooo i absolutely think vox has the ability to ‘store’ energy in his claws to save it up for more intense shocks, and i think he’s obsessive and methodical with the whole process, even as he’s fucking the life out of you, analyzing which type of shock he wants to use next; something big and stinging? something that’s just going to send tiny zaps of electricity shooting through your veins? which is best for the present situation? it’s all part of the fun to him ♡

[rapid-f1re]

This might sound crazy but hear me out…you’re in a room with both 2001 Axl AND 2006 Axl, then a THREESOME occurs. You’re sandwiched between the two of them and then they switch to fuck you again. I need this to happen to me so badly 😩

Thanks for the prompt I’ll be daydreaming ab this for like 2 months

[ratatatastic]

SASHA WHO REFUSED TO SHOOT THIS WHOLE DAMN GAME FINALLY SHOT AND ENDS IT IN OT FUNNY HOW THAT WORKS HUH SASHA ITS ALMOST LIKE YOU SHOULD SHOOT MORE

[wouteke]

of course theres a social climbing aspect as well but i DO find it very :woozy: that freddy is on record talking about how aesthetic is so important to him / his content and he wants to look good and make content that looks good. and half of his content is mathieu

[rafesthroatbaby]

daddy rafe loves to spoil me 💦

[batgeance]

hiiiii paul *twirls hair and kicks feet*

[iwaasfairy]

Flighty is the best fic ever written. Change my mind I dare u.

I wouldn’t bc I like that fic pHFJFJFJKFJG me every day waving around uncle Satoru flyers n putting them in your hands !!! come see come see !!! uncle satoru for everybody !!!

[saexy]

https://x.com/dizzy_7bit/status/1802998495911292955?t=AOX223WvAnjVD3_nsHE5Fw&s=19

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Bringing this back.

VINCENT PRICE introduces The Vincent Price collection of Fine Art for Sears and Roebuck (1962)

[inkykeiji]

oh, to be yakuza mikey’s sex slave…he’ll never let you let him…or his house

why on earth would you ever want to leave his mammoth, monstrous mansion in the middle of nowhere? it has everything you could ever need, and then some, he’s absolutely sure of it—tennis courts and skating rinks and indoor pools and bowling alleys and state of the art appliances + electronics and a multi-acre garden complete with a greenhouse—what more could you possibly ask for, honestly? and all for the low, low price of allowing him to use you whenever he pleases, however he pleases, and wherever he pleases, no questions asked? all for the downright menial cost of belonging to him, solely and completely; of being owned by him—which is to say, of being taken care of by him, all of your needs met and all of your decisions made for you, none of that pesky thinking required? that’s not too high a price to pay, is it? that’s not a bad trade off at all, right? he certainly doesn’t think so.

nevertheless, yakuza mikey understands that you’re ‘bored’ all alone here—he does work such long, taxing hours, and there are some times where he doesn’t get to see you for a full forty-eight hours or so (those instances are always the worst, in his opinion)—so he agrees to let you out every once in a while, provided that you agree to some slight ‘modifications’ on your cell phone. it’s nothing major, nothing huge, he promises you. they’re so inconsequential, he claims you won’t even notice anything has changed at all.

his adjustments to your device are security related, safety related, or so he tells you, sternly insisting that you don’t need to know any information beyond that, for your own good, he says. that’s because they aren’t for you, they’re for him; tracking devices that alert him of your every minor movement and full access to your camera and microphone, so he can keep you monitored wholly and completely, in all ways, at all times.

[odeliba]

before actually WATCHING any content with aaron in it i didn't understand why people were attracted to him and now i am and im like- holy shit

[emeraldbabygirl]

IWATA YOU SEXY MAN

[seiwas]

IRIS I AM LITERALLYABSJXNID XOMF 😭😭😭😭 i love him . thank u . i love him . i loooooooooove him . i ran out of tags iris but him asking for ur socials if numbery is uncomfy? the cherry on top he is literally the dream . the respectful boy to ever . and i need him . want him . NEOOOOOOOOOOOWWW

in a world of boys, he's a gentleman

summary: a creep walks up to the shake stand window. your favorite customer scares him off. (college au!iwaizumi x you)

wc: 1.9k

cw/tags: college!au iwaizumi, creepy dude but he gets scared off don't worry, buff iwa gets nervous around you

note: so there's a protein shake stand like right outside my school's gym and that's where the inspiration for this little brain fart came from. also this is wholeheartedly dedicated to @shotorus my favorite iwa simp. i really hope you like this, it's my first time writing for your man but it most definitely will not be the last :D

likes, replies, and reblogs are appreciated <3

You didn’t anticipate finding a gym crush outside of the student rec center. Yet, there he was, every day at 5:00 passing the stand and every day at 6:30 ordering his usual, strawberries and bananas with chocolate protein powder. It’s a wonder how strictly he stuck to his schedule and you made it a point to have his order queued up in the system by the time he got to the window. To your detriment, it seemed that your infatuation had become obvious enough to your usually-oblivious coworkers. 

“At this point, I think you took this job just to ogle him,” one of your friends points out as she runs a colander of fruit under the faucet. You give her a lighthearted glare and she flicks a few water droplets at you. “I’d guess you like seeing him more than the tips that other guys put in the jar. You really do so much for this company,” she says patronizingly and you roll your eyes. She had a point; you tended not to notice the phone numbers written on dirty napkins or social media handles hastily drawn on dollar bills. None of them interested you. None of them, except for the dude with a body like a Greek hero that made you want to get kidnapped by some mythological being. 

“I just think he has a nice physique; is that such a bad thing?” She shoots you a skeptical look and you turn away sheepishly to check the clock. Thirty seconds to 6:30. “He should be here in a little bit,” you say quietly to yourself, hoping she doesn’t hear. It’s a nice sentiment, but ultimately futile. 

“You’re counting down the seconds? Man, you’re worse than I thought.” She pats your shoulder sympathetically as she passes behind you and you lean your hands on the register counter. 

“As if you’ve never had a gym crush before,” you fire back. 

“You’re supposed to actually be inside the gym to have a gym crush,” she reminds you and you groan. “Why don’t you just switch your shift so you can see him while you workout?”

“I tutor before this, remember? Plus, I need to be able to charm the evening regulars so I can keep paying rent,” you admit. She nods in understanding and a glance at the clock shows ten seconds until 6:30. Your other usuals had come and gone for the day: the guy in the blue tank top that only seemed to work his forearms and biceps, the girl with the silly socks that had the most muscular calves you’d ever seen, the two frat bros with their backwards caps and arrogant voices. It hits 6:30, however, and your favorite regular isn’t behind the glass. He isn’t anywhere around, you realize. You can’t help the frown that draws the corner of your mouth down and, when you look to your coworker for support, she merely shrugs before grabbing a tub of powder from the top shelf. “It’s odd that he isn’t here yet.”

“Only you would think that,” she teases and you refocus on pulling up his usual order on the payment screen. “Maybe he got sick. There’s that frat flu going around right now.”

“Why would he be in a frat, though? And also, he’s definitely the type to wipe the hell out of every machine he uses.”

“If he uses machines; personally, he strikes me as a free weights-only kind of guy.” Before you can reply, a knock on the glass startles you back into customer-service mode. The man in front of you looked relatively normal, but the way his eyes looked you up and down several times made your stomach queasy. It wasn’t the first time creeps had checked you out through the window, but maybe you were feeling a little extra vulnerable waiting around for a regular who didn’t even know your name. Avoiding the man’s intrusive gaze, you shakily pull up his order, swipe his card for payment, and let him know that his shake would be ready soon. 

“I have a question,” he says slowly before you can run and hide in the back. “What time are you out of here?”

“I’m not done for a while,” you state vaguely, praying that he wouldn’t ask about the remaining two and a half hours of your shift. “I work until closing.”

“I can come back and get you when you close.” His voice makes your skin crawl and his eyes feel like knives on your body.

“Excuse me?”

“Let me take you out to dinner. A nice looking person like you shouldn’t be alone at night.” Your heart drops into your stomach and your feet remain rooted to the floor, terrified in place. Was he gonna try to do something after you were off?

“Look, I’m not interested in any–”

“Hey, man. Are you done ordering yet? You’re holding up the line,” intrudes a voice that feels like a warm blanket wrapping around your shoulders. Somewhere between his usual order time and the creep asking you out, your favorite little crush came to stand in line to pay. His shoulders seemed extra broad today and the muscle of his biceps flexed under his compression shirt as he crossed his arms over his chest, staring daggers down at the guy who was freaking you out. He’d never looked so handsome, all sharp jawline and flexed muscles and piercing eyes. The creep recoils and scurries away, allowing you to take a deep breath that helps relieve some of the tension in your forehead. By pure muscle memory and running on adrenaline, your fingers swipe over the tablet and pull up his usual order before he can even say hello. 

“Strawberry and banana with chocolate protein powder, right?”

“Yeah, that…that’s mine,” he says, slightly taken aback by the lingering expression of panic on your face. While he eyes you warily, you swipe his card and hand him his receipt, suddenly desperate to just disappear into the back for the rest of your shift. “Hey, are you okay?”

“What? No, yeah. I’m fine, totally fine,” you lie and give him a weak smile. His eyebrows furrow slightly and you can feel him try to analyze you, but not in the dehumanizing way as your previous customer. His eyes searched your expression worriedly and you caught him biting skin from his lip in concern. “It’s just that the guy before you was being a little weird.” Calling him “weird” was an understatement, but you didn’t want to inconvenience him more than you already have. “I’m fine, really.” He watches you for a moment more and then nods, murmuring a thank you under his breath and finding a spot to wait for his shake. 

“This fell on the floor by the trash can,” he says plainly when he walks up to the pickup window after you call out his drink. The creepy guy hadn’t left the area yet, so your fight or flight instincts were still going haywire. Your gym crush, however, momentarily takes your attention by subtly sliding a dirty piece of paper across the counter to you as he picks up his cup with the other hand. “Thanks; I’ll see you tomorrow.” Before you can blink, he’s gone, leaving you with a cryptic folded message that makes your head spin. You sputter out an awkward farewell and hastily unfold the piece of paper. 

I’ll be studying in the computer lab until the stand closes. If he’s still bothering you, come find me and I’ll walk you to your car or your dorm or wherever. -Iwaizumi Hajime 

A sturdy rectangle of plastic falls from the paper and you stare at it in disbelief. It was an ID card for the university’s after-hours patrol division with his picture, full name, and student number printed on it. Iwaizumi, you echo mentally, you’re too good to be true. And, true to his promise, he’s a respectful distance away and stands with his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants at 9:00 when you lock up the shake stand. You’d lost sight of the creep an hour after Iwaizumi picked up his drink, but the paranoia didn’t leave your body and you’re only able to relax when he approaches you. 

“This is yours,” you say, handing him his ID card with a small smile. “Thank you for looking out for me.”

“Of course. I’m sorry you had to deal with him,” he replies regretfully, uncomfortably adjusting his water bottle tucked into the crook of his elbow. “None of the guys at the gym like him. He’s always hitting on girls and giving them weird looks.” 

“Looks like he was forced to look outside the gym, then,” you laugh lightly, feeling the tension release from your shoulders as you walk next to Iwaizumi in the direction of the parking lot. “Did your drink still taste okay? Or did my nervousness make it taste funny?” When he chuckles, it sounds like sunshine. 

“It was just as tasty as it always is, thank you. You’ve really figured out how to make me the perfect drink every time.”

“Anything for my favorite customer,” you say without hesitation and your face feels like it’s been lit on fire. To your surprise, however, it seemed that Iwaizumi was just as flustered by your words. His eyes widen and his pretty mouth gapes a little bit, blinking rapidly to fix the short circuit in his brain. “I just hope he doesn’t come around here again. He makes my stomach churn.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he forces out and he’s silent for a while until your car is in sight. “Hey, sorry if this is super off-base, but do you wanna workout with me sometime? I can change the time I go but, if it means you don’t feel scared by that guy anymore, I’ll gladly rearrange my schedule.” 

“You want me to workout with you?”

“I’d like to meet you for lunch sometime, too, but I figured I’d start with baby steps,” he admits, running a hand nervously through his hair while you fish your keys from your bag. “If you don’t want to, that’s totally fine–”

“No, no, I’d love to,” you reassure him and he looks visibly relieved. “I’ll change up my shift so you can still go around the same time you usually do, and I can just meet you outside. I’ve been needing a new spotter since mine picked up extra shifts in the library.” 

“Great, yeah, awesome,” he says, a little dumbfounded by how eagerly you would give him a chance. If he was being honest, he’d wanted to ask you your name for months since you memorized his order, but he didn’t want to come off as pushy and ruin his chance with you. “Do you, uh, mind if I give you my number? Or I can give you a social media handle too if you’re not comfortable sharing your number.” God, he’s so good. He is so, so good. “Can you let me know you get home safe?”

“I will,” you promise. “Thank you for everything, Iwaizumi.”

“You can call me Hajime, if you want,” he offers softly and the fondness in his voice makes your heart flip. “Iwaizumi is fine too. Anything is fine.” 

“Right,” you smile. “Well, goodnight, Hajime. Get home safe.”

“You too. Talk soon, okay?”

“I can’t wait.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[reidsworld]

his best look🤤🤤

I’m actually going feral over him he’s so sexyyyyy

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wicked Games 10

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The tears strike like a flash food. Sudden and stormy and completely overwhelming. The world around you disappears behind the wall of your grief. 

When you float into a lull, your swollen eyes taken in the room. You lay in a bed, not your own, none of this is yours. It’s all him. It belongs to him. What about you? Do you belong to him now? Is that what this is? Or is this just about what that part of him inside of you? 

You hiccup and sniffle, rubbing your raw nose as your head pulses. A ripple flows up your back from an unexpected touch and you wince. You hug yourself and angle to see behind you. 

Steve slides his hand up to your shoulder and squeezes, “honey, can I get you anything?” 

You shake your head, the movement aching in your skull, and turn back to the face the room. He sighs and drags his hand down your back. Despite yourself, his touch is soothing. 

“You’re tense. That’s not good for the baby,” he says. 

“Please, not right now,” you plead. 

He’s silent. His fingers continue to rove around your back and walk along the curve of your side. “You’re not excited to be a mom?” He asks. 

You close your eyes as your lip poke out.  

“I’m excited,” he says. “To be a dad. I’ll be a good dad. And a good husband.” 

“Husband?” You his and lean forward so that your almost face down. You just want to stop feeling, to stop thinking, to stop being, and he won’t let you. 

“Yeah, we’ll get married. Make sure the kid grows up right. With both parents.” 

You laugh sardonically. The sort of brittle laugh that hurts. Nothing’s funny, in fact, it’s far from. 

“You don’t even ask me. You just tell me? Yes, Captain, whatever you want.” Your eyes well again, this time in futility. 

“I’m doing the right thing. I’m being a good man. I’ve seen this world. Thing’s aren’t what they used to be. Men like me, they don’t exist. They have no sense of tradition,” he says. 

Tradition? It’s a particular sort of code word that makes all the flags turn red. You suck in your breath and gather your strength. You sit up shakily and look over at him. You can barely keep your head up. 

“I don’t remember. You know that, right? That night is... nothing. It never happened. Not a single second. I woke up and I was blank. I didn’t know it was you, not until you found me, mocked me in that store,” you scoff and your vision rings in agony. “That’s how much it meant and this...” you look down at your stomach. “I guess that’s the consequence.” 

You hear his breath, feel him shift. He sits up, his torso naked. He stares forward as you drop your head and cradle it, bending your knees to support your elbows. He clucks and reaches over. He brings his phone over his lap. 

“Don’t remember.” He taps on the screen so hard you can hear it. 

He angles the screen to you and you reluctantly tilt your head to see. You know before you look. Of course, that’s why he didn’t forget. He has it right there. He recorded it all. 

“...you’re so sexyyyyy...” you slur towards the camera. Your voice, your expression, the way you sway, it’s plain to see your drunk beyond sense. “Come on, cap...” you shake your naked tits at him, “you said you could do this all day.” 

He snickers from behind the lens and approaches the bed. You turn over and show him your ass. You can see a glisten between your legs. It’s not the first time but you wish it could be the last. His hand enters the frame and he dips his fingers between your folds. You moan and wiggle against him. He pushes inside and you can hear how your cunt clings as he pulls out. 

“Stop,” you fling your arm over to shove the phone away. “I can’t watch that--” 

“You wanted it. You said you wanted me. That night was... magical.” 

“It was—I’m married and we’re strangers.” You insist. 

“Was. Were.” He snarls. “I told you I loved you and you said ‘if I weren’t married, Steve Rogers, I could love you too.’ You. You said that.” 

“I was drunk out of my mind,” you rub your temples as your stomach starts to churn. “I was stupid and angry. Well, I’m still stupid.” 

“No, you were unhappy. Your husband didn’t treat you right. We both know it. Everything that’s happened doesn’t change that,” he says. 

“Maybe not but...” 

“But what? You don’t have to slave away in some crappy apartment. I have a penthouse. We have a penthouse. It has lots of room and if you want more room for the kids--” 

“Kids? Plural?” You exclaim, so loud your ears ring. 

“One thing at a time, sure,” he says. “I’m telling you, you don’t have to do all of that with me. All I’m asking is for you. That’s all.” 

You look at him, your eyes dry and sleepy, your cheeks parched. “Maybe I want to be on my own,” you murmur. 

“That’s not what you told me,” he retorts and looks at his phone again. He drags his thumb over it and puts the screen up again. You see yourself. You watch the worst night of your life. 

“You love me, baby?” He asks as you slide up and down his dick. 

“Yes, yes, yes!” You grope your chest as you bounce. “I love you, Steve. I love you.” 

You cringe and shake your head. His fingers whiten as he grips the phone tighter. You slump, defeated. 

“You’re not going back to work. Once they see this, they won’t want you,” he blacks the screen. “But I want you, sweetheart. You and our baby.”