#idk what came over me sorry

[ervotica]

pathetic alpha!art and mouthy beta!patrick sharing omega!reader😵‍💫 patrick with his bravado, mouthing off to everyone as a show of power, of arrogance, until you make him watch as you sink yourself down onto art's fat alpha knot, wet and slick and squelching with every grind and rut of his hips. the bulge in your tummy when art curls his fingers round your ribcage and gasps, when he begs you to ride him harder, faster. fills you up so much that it floods out round his cock, collects and runs in thick rivulets over his heavy sack, knot still clinging to your womb. poor, neglected patrick, only allowed to sit in the corner and try to get himself off, hand flying over his flushed, swollen cock, begging for just a taste, begging to get his face under your ass and lick art's balls clean of your shared slick.

[gayalanwake]

life update: fred figglehorn videos have really good b&bh animatic potential. also I hc his mom’s voice as butt-head’s mom

[voidwolf]

FORTNITE FRIDAY LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOOO

Fellas it’s that time of day again

[needycatboy]

fuck being pinned on your stomach, face and chest pressed into the sheets, wrists pinned together behind your back, your lover using your arms as leverage to lean their bodyweight on, thrusting slowly and precisely into your boycunt. your mouth full of your duvet to keep quiet. coming accidentally from the intensity and hearing them laugh quietly and coo at you for your mistake before speeding up their thrusts.

[macksartblock]

weird timing but s1 dads and their bastard fathers (and frank)

[little-pondhead]

DP x DC Prompt

…

There are no more heroes.

Well, okay. Rewind a bit.

Danny has been doing the hero thing for a while now. He’s had a big reveal; everyone has accepted him (including his parents), the GIW disbanded, the Anti-Ecto acts repealed, and generally, everything is going great. Some of the A-Listers are even training as junior ghost hunters to help give him a break from his rogues! (Being Ghost King makes things hectic sometimes, and he just needs the extra help. Sue him!)

The point is, literally nothing is wrong with Danny Phantom’s afterlife.

And then Valerie Gray, the Red Huntress, disappears in front of his eyes.

Danny is baffled! She’s just…gone! Valerie just popped out of existence, like she was never there. But no matter how hard he searches in the Ghost Zone, he can’t find her soul anywhere. His core isn't broken in grief. So she’s not dead. Which is good. So then, where is she?

Some of the others come forward with ideas on how to find her. A few ghosts volunteer to go out into the mortal realm, an area Danny had declared off-limits, to see if she was out there. Danny approves it. He rounds up some of the friendlier (i.e., discreet) ghosts and Amity Parkers and demolishes the outside travel ban.

So everyone spreads out, looking for their dear frenemy and teammate. But it becomes apparent very quickly that something is wrong with the rest of the world.

There are no more heroes.

Every single living superhero on the face of the Earth has just…vanished. Villains are running amok; the countries are in chaos! Some aliens are invading Earth, mythical deities are trying to take over, and society is crumbling to the ground. Everything is on the brink of collapse.

Well, Danny was still there. And so were his people. They were pretty spread out, so could they just…take up the mantles? He also knew where to find the souls of dead heroes in the Zone; surely they wouldn't mind coming out of retirement for a little bit, especially if they couldn't die again. Oh! And that skeleton army leftover from Pariah Dark's reign might be useful in repelling those invading forces.

Honestly, there were more than enough hands to go around! And with the heroes gone, Danny didn't mind letting everyone out for a little break, as long as they followed his rules. They wouldn't stop the search for the other heroes, but hopefully, when they found them, the heroes wouldn't mind Danny's intervention too much. :)

In other words:

Someone fucks up, and all of Earth's living heroes are either wished out of existence or are whisked away to some far-off realm where Danny hasn't checked yet. In the attempt to figure out what's going on, Danny lets the dead run amok over the Earth as they search for clues. The skeleton army repels the invading armies, the souls of dead heroes deal with the world leaders, and his rogues and other Amity Parkers set up shop in place of famous heroes, trying to get the cities under control again.

Basically, they just do their best to keep everything from imploding until the Justice League and others are back.

(And why is it that Danny hasn't disappeared? Well, whatever caused everyone to go poof! only affected living heroes. Anyone heroes that were dead in the first place, or even just half-dead, stayed behind.)

[usedtobecooler]

steve harrington lays you out in the back of the beemer and eats you out until you’re gushing wet into his mouth — thighs trembling and squeezing his head tight tight tight as you reach your peak harder than you ever could’ve imagined, vision whiting as your eyes clench shut. fingers grasping desperately in his honey highlighted tresses and pulling.

he takes it, groans and grunts into your pussy as he laps at you like a man starved, the flat of his tongue on your folds and sucking at your clit whilst you whine and gasp above him — shaking and overstimulated as he greedily buries his face in further, large hands grasping your thighs and spreading them wider.

his own hips roll, jerky movements into the seat below him just to give him some kind of relief, rock hard and desperate, pressed up against his zipper and throbbing. he mouths at you like his life depends on it, eyes rolling into the back of his head as the taste of you floods his tastebuds, your desperate begs of ‘steve, oh my god’ spurring him on even more.

your nails bite into his scalp, hips rocking into his face as you orgasm again, crying and moaning, tears running down your temples and into your hair because it’s just so fucking good and he’s gone — grunting heavily into your sex as he ruts into the leather of the seat and floods his jeans.

[crocuta1]

More....more calf1sh self indulgent posting....

[chloesimaginationthings]

The Spot after figuring out his holes

[angel-fruitcake]

scrap the final ep of season 15. imagine Cas is saved from the empty and reunites with Dean, they have a sickeningly sweet emotional moment where Dean reveals that's he's also in love with Cas. cue a desperate frantic steamy needy softcore sex scene of 10+ years of pent up sexual tension finally being resolved. i'm talking cinematic shots of Dean pressing Cas against a wall picking him up while he sucks on his neck i'm talking Cas spreading Dean out on a table while they make out so sloppy and wet i'm talking those guys falling into a bed just all over each other shedding clothes like they'll die if they don't feel skin on skin right fucking now

this is a requirement for spn season 16 thanks

[itadorey]

gojo “just the tip” satoru

geto “take it all” suguru

[a-ikuoliver]

HELLO LOVER

for your wittle event i am asking for hanky panky with… shinsou 😔 (also i love u bye)

HELLO LOVER!!!!!! thank u so much and im so so so sorry, i wrote this with my dick i can't even lie i don't remember half of this tw: toxic relationship + fingering (f!receiving) birthday bash intro + rules + menu | event masterlist

fuck. fuck. fuck. “fuuuck,”

you ignore his chuckle when he shushes you, pressing a chaste kiss to the red mark at the side of your throat, his tongue already gliding over your skin before you can even fumble with the lock on the cubicle door. desperately, you clutch at his shoulders, blunt nails bruising the skin beneath his dark shirt when he nipped beneath your jaw again, sucking at the skin beneath your ear just to hear you suck in a hiss, revelling in how it hadn’t changed; he could still drive you crazy, could still cloud your mind with a single well-placed kiss.

fuck. you’d been so good; his number was blocked, you finally deleted that burner account you used to stalk his socials two months ago, you avoided the smoke shop on the corner near your place even though they had the cutest lighters and trinkets, you dyed your hair without worrying what he’d think about it. all of that, and still you end up here.

your lips are already swollen, tender from being sucked and bitten, shinso pulling you into the bathroom before it had even been an hour since you arrived, the taste of your cocktail still on your lips when he first kissed you. dizzy, you tug at his hips, breaking the kiss to breathlessly murmur his name, your heart jumping at the taste of it on your tongue after so long.

“shh, baby, i know,” his voice is so low and so gravelly when he whispers, his warm breath against your neck sending a shiver down your spine. you’re sure you’re soaking when he pops the button of your pants, sliding his hand down your abdomen into your underwear. he shudders feeling your soft skin, taking his time to drive you insane with his slow, electric touches to your drooling cunt; every touch deliberate, avoiding where you needed him until your hips were jolting, searching for him, until it was no argument how much you needed him.

his dark eyes sent a shock of lightning into your stomach when you finally felt the tip of his fingers at your clit, your body jumping into his touch the more he teased you. always obsessed with this push and pull, he wanted you to seek his touch, his body heat, his approval, he wanted you to seek him. if your eyes weren’t squeezed shut, you’d see the way his violet eyes glimmered watching your hips chase him.

you never should have tried to avoid him; you should’ve religiously checked his posts, zooming into every detail of the picture he posted smoking in the alleyway behind the bar, you’d have seen the logo printed on his chest if you had just stalked him. you’d know he dyed his hair darker (the exact deep indigo shade you loved on him), you’d know he changed his labret to a silver ring instead of the spiked post, you would’ve known how fucking good he looked. you would’ve touched yourself looking at the pictures of him instead of this, cum on your fingers again and again until it felt as good as he did.

you could have avoided this if you didn’t try to avoid him. if you hadn’t been so good.

you can’t help the whine that leaves you when he finally gives in, sinking his fingers into your needy cunt, infuriatingly slowly, like he’s savouring the way you pulse at every knuckle. shinso’s amethyst eyes are glued to your bitten lips, admiring the way your features changes when you grind your hips into his hand, how needy you look before he’s even moved. he’s still staring at you when he curls his fingers, dragging two fingers inside you just enough to have your jaw falling slack, to get your chest heaving, to get your cunt clenching around him like it always did; to make sure nothing had changed.

“god, i missed you,” you respond with a garbled version of his name, more of a broken moan than anything, unable to spit out anything else when he started fucking you with his fingers, pressing every button he knew would wind you up, working you closer to cumming before his break was over. he knew he could, he knew you inside and out, hatred or not, he could unravel you.

“you missed me, hm?” he nudges your jaw with his nose, smiling against your skin when your eyelashes flutter against your cheek, your breath catching in your throat, “i know your pussy did.”

i hate you, i hate you, i hate you, i hate you, every time your lips part to tell him as much, you can only moan instead, spouting gratitude, begging him not to stop, your anger from every argument melting from you the more your cunt drooled, the resentment deep inside you from every argument, every break up, swirling into something else the longer he fucked his fingers into you. did they even really matter when he had your cunt pulsing? when he could make you cum with one swipe of his thumb over your clit if he wanted to. he could probably make you squirt if you weren’t cramped in this cubicle with him. he decides he will when you come home with him, decides he’s going to taste you before the inevitable argument in the morning.

“fuck, you’re so hot when you act like you don’t need me.”

you can’t entirely tell if he’s being condescending, or if he wholeheartedly thinks every break up was foreplay. if he really thought you didn’t hate him for everything he did. for everything he didn’t do. for it always ending up like this. for every single ‘never again’.

“‘s always better when you’ve been avoiding me,” you still come undone, sticky cum coating his fingers when he talks down to you, that fucking face staring back at you when you meet his eyes again.

“but you always come back, don’t you?”

[oh-katsuki]

i love putting characters through hurt and im thinking right now about the "one that got away" trope, particularly in the context of the katy perry song....

katsuki sitting alone in his kitchen. it's well lit, beautiful really. everything a successful pro-hero could ever hope to have, but he can't help but think about the person he'd originally intended to share it with.

all those years ago on his shitty couch in his shitty apartment, you tucked under his arm with a glass of shitty chardonnay that sloshes every time you laugh with your belly. fantasizing about having the type of open living room that would let you see into the kitchen. about an archway with crown-molding, peering into a warmly lit kitchen. no more renting. talking with you about the type of furniture you'd fill the space with. warm dark wood, an antique dining table, bookshelves and not needing to worry about just how much space they take up.

he can't help but think about how he'd decorated it the way you'd talked about. it was unconsciously done, of course and he only really notices it on late nights like these. when he's alone with a cup of steaming tea and takes a moment to remember where he is. katsuki can't help but feel that you'd like the way he decorated his house. like somehow, on some level, he'd done it for you.

of course, that was years ago. 10 maybe? yeah, 10 sounds right. it may be longer, but if it is, katsuki doesn't really want to think about it. just more wasted time.

he tries to be positive about it, about his good standing in life. fame, wealth, power even. he tries to be grateful for the blessings, for the job he loves, the home he finds beautiful, the friends who pulled him out when you left. katsuki tries to move on, to continue forward. but nights like these make the wound fresh. they cut him open a little bit.

it could have been really good, he thinks. if he'd been a little smarter or a little wiser. if he'd ponied up his courage to... be more. pride's a bitch though and it really only leaves you when what matters most already has. but it could have been good. this house could have been good. you could have sat with him, worried about him. he could have taken care of you.

there have been other people. katsuki has tried, he really has. but he's still a bit too stubborn. it only gets worse with age. everyone has a little bit of you in them. something that reminds him of the way things could have been. snippets of someone too far away to reach. yeah, they all have a little bit of you, but they're not you. that's where katuski thinks he's gone wrong.

he has people that never really leave him. that's just who he is. you're one of them, he supposes. in another life, you wouldn't be the one that got away. he'd look in the mirror at his premature gray hairs and instead of being alone, you'd come up next to him and tell him that you've always liked a silver fox. yeah, that sounds about right, like something you would say.

you're probably married now. katsuki can't really bring himself to check, doesn't really want to. no point in mulling it over, he thinks. his tea's getting cold.

[flyingbuddiies]

i hope taco permadies in the finale. i hope she’s a victim of circumstance. i hope she dies convincing herself its for the better. that it’s her final punishment. that there was no other ending than this. that if her attempts to apologize for all the hurt she’s done didn’t work, she’s fully irredeemable. that there is no other fate best-suited for her other than death, and that in life there is no further point for her. i hope she dies believing she deserves it.

i hope she never gets the chance to tell microphone she loves her. i hope microphone is eternally left in the dark. i hope she never discovers the true extent of tacos remorse. her guilt. i hope she is left in silence to only ponder about how taco felt, hoping and praying that she meant anything to her. even a tiny bit. clinging onto any fraction of hope that taco could possibly feel the same way she does.

i hope microphone never finds out she’s dead. i hope she is led to believe that taco moved on from her. that she never meant anything to her. that she wasn’t enough again.

[megumiluvv]

Yu Haibara is gone. The first of people Shoko knew to die. Suguru Geto is gone. Satoru killed him. Kento Nanami is gone. Special grade curse in Shibuya got him. Satoru Gojo is gone. He was sealed in Shibuya and then killed by Sukuna. Even her teacher, Yaga, is gone.

Shoko walks the once loud halls of the school. She peeks into an empty classroom and can see herself, Satoru, and Suguru getting reprimanded for forgetting a barrier. It was Satoru’s fault. She moves down the hall and sees Haibara and Nanami, drinking a soda and talking about something she couldn’t care to remember. She sits in the teacher’s lounge, sees Yaga printing grades.

Shoko stands outside. Lights a cigarette. Smokes. The smoke dances in the air. She feels the bitter winter air and sees her classmates, throwing snowballs at the underclassmen. Ijichi on the ground covered by snow, Nanami brushing the ice off his cheek, Haibara laughing happily. Satoru and Suguru snickering behind her.

She heads back inside. To the room she’s always in, the scent of antiseptic and cleaners filling her nostrils as she breathes in. She breathes out smoke. She looks at the autopsy table, blinks, sees Haibara. Cold and lifeless, gash along his left side. She blinks again, he’s gone.

She thinks back to Shinjuku. Satoru was cut in half. She had to heal that body and sew his student’s brain into it. She replays the scene in her head as she looks at the operating table.

Shoko walks over to the dorms, Satoru and Suguru are in front of her room, arguing over a stuffed animal. She used to think they were childish, now she’d give anything to hear their banter again. Nanami pokes his head out of his dorm, shouts at them to shut up. She chuckles and walks to the vending machine.

Her heels echo through the empty space, vending machines still selling the same sodas from when she was in high school, rebranded, but the same old drinks. She buys an old favorite, sees Nanami buy one for him and Haibara, Suguru comes by to get some for him and Satoru. He smiles at Shoko. Disappears.

She’s alone again, in the empty school as the current students are all busy. She puts out her cigarette, leans against the window, watches the snow fall. In the background she can hear footsteps and Haibara cheering. She feels a tap and sees Suguru.

“Come on, it’s the first snow of the season!” Satoru shouts from the door.

“You comin’ Shoko?” Suguru smiles.

Shoko knows he’s not really there. None of them are, but she’ll lay in the snow and make angels for all of them.

“Yeah, gimme a sec.”

Masterlist

[midnightrealness]

SECOND THOUGHT: sofia is the type of person to want all her friends to also be friends... of course, that also extends to her adult friends

(we were so robbed of cedric and miss nettle interacting again after both of their redemption arcs...)

I PUT SO MUCH EFFORT INTO THIS,,,, IDK WHY