#i’ll write
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koitarou · 1 year ago
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he brings sort of a ‘i can’t be fixed’ energy that my ‘i can fix him’ energy highly fucks with
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bigolemantiddies · 1 year ago
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Send me a billy headcannon and I’ll write you smth
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ker0senebunny · 1 year ago
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ok new hunger games so epic
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lokust · 2 years ago
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can u do lee!ed and ler! anyone where ed is being annoying on purpose and they tickle him as revenge? no worries if u don’t want to, thanks!!
IS THIS LEE!ED AS IN OFMD?? AS IN PIRATE ED? BECAUSE OH MY GOD ANON YOU JUST MADE MY WHOLE DAY I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR AN OFMD REQUEST FOR FUCKING EVER AND I WOULD LOVE TO WRITE THIS
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elodieunderglass · 1 year ago
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changes and trends in horror-genre films are linked to the anxieties of the culture in its time and place. Vampires are the manifestation of grappling with sexuality; aliens, of foreign influence. Horror from the Cold War is about apathy and annihilation; classic Japanese horror is characterised by “nature’s revenge”; psychological horror plays with anxieties that absorbed its audience, like pregnancy/abortion, mental illness, femininity. Some horror presses on the bruise of being trapped in a situation with upsetting tasks to complete, especially ones that compromise you as a person - reflecting the horrors and anxieties of capitalism etc etc etc. Cosmic horror is slightly out of fashion because our culture is more comfortable with, even wistful for, “the unknown.” Monster horror now has to be aware of itself, as a contingent of people now live in the freedom and comfort of saying “I would willingly, gladly, even preferentially fuck that monster.” But I don’t know much about films or genres: that ground has been covered by cleverer people.
I don’t actually like horror or movies. What interests me at the moment is how horror of the 2020s has an element of perception and paying attention.
Multiple movies in one year discussed monsters that killed you if you perceived them. There are monsters you can’t look at; monsters that kill you instantly if you get their attention. Monsters where you have to be silent, look down, hold still: pray that they pass over you. M Zombies have changed from a hand-waved virus that covers extras in splashy gore, to insidious spores. A disaster film is called Don’t Look Up, a horror film is called Nope. Even trashy nun horror sets up strange premises of keeping your eyes fixed on something as the devil GETS you.
No idea if this is anything. (I haven’t seen any of these things because, unfortunately, I hate them.) Someone who understands better than me could say something clever here, and I hope they do.
But the thing I’m thinking about is what this will look like to the future, as the Victorian sex vampires and Cold War anxieties look to us. I think they’ll have a little sympathy, but they probably won’t. You poor little prey animals, the kids will say, you were awfully afraid of facing up to things, weren’t you?
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blanc-ci · 1 month ago
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Captain!! Saying stuff like that only enforces that mindset!!!
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greykolla-art · 7 months ago
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I was rereading Skulduggery Pleasant and realised it was a goldmine for cute Alastor & Charlie moments.👌
I’m gonna project genuine friendship onto these fuckers and you can’t stop me!
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chocum · 4 months ago
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ughhh boob obsessed choso 😵‍💫
“babbyyy” he's whining, pout stretching his pink lips as he tugs at the hem of your top, fingers toying with the clothy fabric, “let me— please. just for a little”
“it’s never just for a little”
he tilts his head up to look at you from between your boobs— eyes squinting, before dipping down to lick your nipples through your shirt, a light gasp getting caught in your throat. “please” he muffles against you, for the thousandth time, "pleeasee"
you finallllyyyy break (one can only take so much begging), rolling your eyes (choso frowned at that but the smirk playing at your lips gives you away) before peeling your shirt off for him to suck on your pretty tits.
he perks up, letting his tongue lay flat against your right boob, his hand moving to flick and toy with the left one.
your hand moves to card through his soft hair, fingers dragging across his scalp.
“thank you” he gargles mouth full making you giggle.
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roseworth · 1 year ago
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i wish you guys lived inside my head the fics in here go crazy
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heartswithinreach · 3 months ago
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Sitting on LaDS lap
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Xavier
Physical contact is nothing new for you two. You trust Xavier with your life on the battlefield and when you're fighting the evening commute.
The train is packed on your way home after fighting Wanderers all day but Xavier doesn't notice until he sits down and realizes the person sitting next to him isn't his partner.
But before he can give up his seat for you, you're sitting across his lap and resting your head on his shoulder. He watches you settle, amused and flustered by your boldness to do something like this in public.
"I don't think this is allowed for safety." He says gently, not wanting to wake you. "But if you're that tired..."
Xavier holds you close, making sure you don't fall off his lap from the movement of the train, and peacefully dozes with you until you're home.
Rafayel
“You’re supposed to be my bodyguard — why aren’t I sitting on your lap?”
Rafayel pouts mostly for show and so he doesn’t come across as too eager. He’s barely holding back from squeezing you in a tight hug, he didn’t expect you to be so soft.
But he also didn’t expect what he said would make you self conscious. Rafayel quickly pulls you back down when you try to get off of him, wrapping his arms around your middle, making sure you stay put.
“Relax, cutie. I was just joking. You can stay for as long as you want.”
But he will expect you to return the favor whenever he wants in the future. Especially if it’s at an event and he wants to rub your relationship in other peoples’ faces.
Zayne
His reaction depends on where you are and what the situation is.
If you sit on his lap while waiting to be seated at a restaurant, he’ll be unimpressed by the PDA but allow it so you’re both not sore from standing.
In the privacy of his or your apartment, you’re welcome to do whatever you like.
Every time you come near him in the early evening while he’s reading a book, he secretly hopes you’ll curl up on his lap. Your warmth is just the balm he needs after his shift at the hospital.
Zayne always worries about his evol in the back of his mind. What if his body temperature is too low and being so close is unpleasant for you? The only thing that’ll stop him from fretting and relax is if you play with his hair.
Sylus
Your ass hasn’t touched an actual chair in this man’s presence since you made your relationship official.
The first time you tried, he stopped reading his intel to ask, “What are you doing all the way over there, sweetie?” and patted his thigh. It couldn’t have been more obvious what he wanted.
Won’t stand for any “I’m too heavy” nonsense. He’s genuinely offended when you say that. Have you seen his physique? He waits until you’ve decided to give it a shot and then he's manhandling you onto his lap.
Pavlov dogs you into this routine until one day you just sit on his lap, completely unprompted, and he gives you the most infuriating, self-satisfied grin when you realize what you’ve done.
He’s won this small victory and he won’t let you forget it.
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teaposee · 4 months ago
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This will be fun ^^
1 / 2 / 3
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laracrofted · 4 months ago
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let me drown
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you meet qimir for a morning swim (qimir x fem!reader)... because i couldn't be normal about that scene.
warnings: 18+, minors and ageless blogs dni, an ode to manny jacinto's collarbones and also his shoulders and arms, slightly painful sex (but like... in a hot and consensual way), possessiveness, pwp basically (wc: 800+)
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Droplets of water pool in the hollow of his collarbone, running down his broad shoulders in rivulets, shimmering in the morning sun like jewels, as Qimir cuts through the water. His muscled arms effortlessly slice into the still surface, sending ripples in every direction.
He looks ethereal, swimming in the cerulean pool. A long forgotten sea god, waiting to hook you by the ankle and drag you below the surface, drown you and breathe new life into you at the bottom of the sea.
It's beautiful and frightening in equal measures.
You wait on the shore, seawater lapping at your ankles and bare feet, arms around your knees, ignoring the puddling water that's soaking through your bottoms.
You wait for him to notice you there.
He doesn't keep you waiting – or maybe, Qimir sensed your presence from the moment you'd stepped onto the shore, from the moment your eyes had opened in the cave and looked for him, finding him gone.
A suspicion that's confirmed when Qimir lifts his gaze, unsurprised, sweeping escaping strands of damp hair from his face, and calls out softly, "Aren't you going to join me?"
His voice. You love his voice, as smooth as the surface of the water lapping at his strong shoulders, as the salt-licked rocks on the shore and the cliffs, as the weather-beaten pebbles that dig into your soles as you stand.
You undo the robe in a smooth motion and let it fall from your shoulders, baring yourself to him in the morning light, and Qimir doesn't look away.
He catches his lip between his teeth, dragging his gaze down your naked form, drinking you in with a kind of possessiveness that feels heretical; coveting you without so much as laying a finger on you, owning you with his dark eyes.
You wade in, and Qimir drifts toward you, moving silently and swiftly, predator-like.
An uneven rock catches on your foot under the surface, sending you forward. You tumble into him with a soft curse, and Qimir catches your arms with wet hands, steadying you, guiding your hands to his shoulders.
Flexing your fingers is almost an instinct, searching for a hold, like scaling a cliff, digging in to the muscles, and Qimir shudders, long lashes brushes against his cheeks, inclining his head to meet your gaze.
"Careful," Qimir cautions, soft and honeyed, a kind of music, and you don't know if Qimir means to be careful with the rocks or with your wandering hands.
You gamble on the former and let them wander further, moving over him, mapping him like an uncharted planet. One of your arms slips around his neck, giving him your weight, and Qimir's hand slips under your knee to catch you.
His hand is rough, guiding your leg around his hip, finding a balance.
He is pressed up against you now, cock hardening against your stomach. An involuntary gasp escapes from your mouth, and Qimir nips at the sound, sucking at your lip, beads of seawater dripping from his mouth into yours.
"Careful," Qimir repeats, only this time, it sounds like a question.
Should I be careful? Do you want me to be?
You shake your head slowly, a fine mist of salt water blowing in from the sea, coating your lashes, and Qimir's lips part in a half smile, pleased.
He's not careful. Careful is gentle caresses and the press of his mouth between your legs, warming you from the inside out, drinking from you like a nectar.
This isn't careful.
He doesn't get you ready, doesn't warm your cunt with his fingers, doesn't press you open in increments. He invites your legs around his hips, grasping at your ass with one hand for leverage, and pushes into you in one long and interrupted stroke that knocks the breath from your lungs, knocks your bones from your body.
You press your face into his shoulder, biting down with a whimper, probably leaving marks. That's okay. He likes marks, likes the feeling of your nails dragged down his back.
You're at war with yourself, split in the same way that Qimir is splitting you in half with his cock; a need to squirm away from the overpowering sensation; a need to invite him deeper, harder, faster.
He makes a soothing– borderline mocking – sound against your cheek and strokes your hair back from your wet cheeks; and holds you there, pinned open for him, fluttering and adjusting to the size of his cock.
"Oh? How does it feel?" Qimir asks, still stroking your cheeks.
"Good."
He smiles and lifts your chin with his knuckles and drinks a salt water kiss from your lips. "Good. You're ready for more."
It's not a question.
Seawater runs down your stinging cheeks, sensitive from the stubble on his carved jawline, mixing with the moisture that streams from the corners of your eyes as Qimir finally moves inside of you, dragging his cock out and pushing back in with a sweet and lethal slowness that borders on painful, so controlled; reaching inside and unraveling you from a place so deep that no one else could ever hope to uncover it; no one but him.
He likes it that way. Just him.
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tearsofastraeax · 10 months ago
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simon is the type of guy to come up behind you while you're standing in the kitchen, his hands traveling over your hips right to your ass, his hands grabbing your cheeks and giving them a squeeze
"hmmmm, that ass," he sighs into your neck.
"simon....", you chastise him, clearly busy, your hands full, the water nearly overcooking, and the heat from the stove making you sweat.
you notice him step away a bit, but his hands don't leave your ass, giving it a little jiggle instead.
you hear his breathy laugh behind you, "sorry, babe, but these cheeks were calling to me, they miss me"
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waltricia · 6 months ago
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3x02 — How Bright the Moon
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blumineck · 7 months ago
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Bows vs Guns: when does it make sense for modern/ sci-fi characters to use guns?
This is just one example! For a longer breakdown (with some bonus history!), check out my YouTube channel.
And don’t forget there are art reference packs now up on Patreon!
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wonderthor · 9 months ago
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being whiny and needy with choso
you were the one that woke up extremely horny and touched starved (this time), but being the sweetie pie that he is he let you ride him until you come.
but you can’t.
you’re whining and whimpering because you just can’t get there yet. speeding up, slowing down, moving your hips in so many different ways. none of it is working, but you need to come so bad!
“baby”, he calls out to you, and you look at him with a hint of frustrated tears in your eyes.
“baby, shh just relax for me okay? i got you, let me take care of it, yeah?”, he whispers as he cradles your cheek in his hand.
as soon as you nod, he grips your hips and lifts you up and down on his cock, rolling your hips back and forth in a way that instantly makes your mouth open wide and your head fall back. you brace yourself on his pecs and he momentarily takes one of his hands off of your hips, his other holding a tighter grip to compensate. you look down at him and see that he uses his free hand to pick up one of yours, kissing your palm with his eyes locked on you. then, he holds your hand as he picks up his pace.
your mind was empty as your eyes stayed on his, knowing nothing else but him. you barely were able to think about how strong he was to be able to pick you up and down over and over with only one hand. your orgasm had crept up on you without you even paying attention.
“cho, i’m…it-”
“i know baby, i know. give it to me, please?”
he kisses your knuckles before putting his hand back on your hip, fucking up into you and he pulls you up and down against him. you arch your back and burrow your nails into his chest, holding on tight. your eyes leaving his trance and going back into your skull.
“ohhh fuck!”
he lets one of his thumbs trail over to your clit, rubbing hard and fast.
“that’s it, that’s it baby. please, please give it to me. give it to me, give it to me,” he growled out through clenched teeth.
just that quickly, the coil snapped and you came all over his dick with a loud moan. the intensity of your orgasm spurred his and he came right behind you, filling you up. when you were tired of holding yourself up, he pulled you down to lay on his chest, rubbing your back as your breaths slowly calmed down in harmony.
it was just like that how you both fell asleep.
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