#ughhhhhh!!

[vagabond-umlaut]

YOU LOVE GOJO SM…. WHATS HIS ONE HABIT YOU’d trade A LIFETIME FOR TO GET RID OFFFF 💀

SATORU SLEEPS WITH HIS MOUTH OPEN. LIKE, THE BASTARD JUST DOESN'T BREATHE THROUGH HIS NOSE WHEN WE'RE SLEEPING. HE HAS TO KEEP HIS MOUTH OPEN, MAKING ALL THOSE WHOOSH-WHOOSH NOISE NEAR MY EAR. AND I'M LIKE, "'TORU, DARLING, KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT BEFORE I FUCKING SMOTHER U WITH MY PILLOW." 💀💀

[magpie-to-the-morning]

I don’t WANT a career. I want to cuddle and sleep and eat and read and create and love and be loved.

[angel-in-your-basement]

Dry humping turns me on so much. Just the feeling of someone rutting against me with only a few layers of fabric between us. Them bending me over and showing me how it would feel to have them thrusting into me. Letting me grind on their lap, guiding my hips up and down like I’m riding them. The tease of it, the desperation of trying to get just a little more friction, the feeling of being so close, but not close enough. Holy fuck it gets to me.

[loveindefinitely]

task force 141 with a controversially young civilian girlfriend.

-> mentions of large age-gaps, referenced sexual content, alcohol use. afab!fem!reader. minor dubcon (everyone's drunk.)

thinking that you're studying in uni. working on the side to try and afford rent and, if you're lucky, some noodles every other night. you don't really get seen compared to your friends, who go out clubbing and spend their spare time on dating apps.

one time, your friend drags you to a bar. not usually your scene, considering its clientele is more for tradies, and military-type men. not like the stuck-up blue collar boys at your uni.

cue you getting drunk off your ass, barely even standing, when you bump into one johhny mactavish.

he holds your elbows, your chest crashing into his. gentle with it, too -- kind and sweet and grounding.

"y'alright, lass?" he asks, a small smirk on his face, eyes darting across your frame greedily. he, in all fairness, looks nearly as drunk as you. he stumbles a little with your weight.

you giggle, tilting your head to look at him. say something stupid like, "you don't look like a student."

his brows raise, his dimples deepen. "aye, very smart, hen."

you preen with the compliment, a cheesy grin stuck to your face. you make no move to stand up and leave. you think your friend just left with a guy anyways.

johnny moves you, muscled arm around your waist as he takes you to a booth.

three other men sit in it, only one looking somewhere in a ten-year age bracket to you. they're all impossibly large, filling out the space with ease. your stomach swoops, but you easily blame the alcohol.

manoeuvring you so you sit in his lap, johnny's hand is a comforting weight on your waist. he huffs a laugh.

"didn't realise we were goin' for jailbait, soap," the youngest one chimes, dark features shining in the pub's dim light. his eyes trail your frame silkily.

you can't stop the roll of your eyes -- your inhibitions have made you senseless. "'m not, 'm completely," you drag out the syllables, "legal."

a hand on your thigh makes you jolt, and when you look over, a blonde man with a black medical mask raises an unimpressed brow. "got a problem, kid?"

you shoot him a weak glare. "not a kid. weirdo."

the arm around your waist tightens, as does the weirdo's hand encompassing your thigh.

"not scared of anythin', are you darl'?" the final man in the booth asks, hands folded together where they rest at the table. he looks at least double your age, and that simple fact along with his drawling words has your core tightening.

"what's there to be scared of?" you ask, stupidly. your head tilts to the side, unknowingly moving to rest on johnny's shoulder. he doesn't comment.

"miss bein' young and drunk," gaz sighs, hand softly gripping the gin sat on the table in front of him.

"you look young," your brows furrow, not understanding. how old could he really be, to act so nostalgic of your current predicament? "how old are you guys?"

it's an embarrassing question -- makes you feel like a child all over again. but your interest is quickly peaking, and your need for answers overpowers your need for decorum.

johnny's the one to answer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers.

"gaz, the pretty one over there, he's twenty-eight," he murmurs, heat stirring low in your gut as you nod mindlessly, meeting gaz's eyes.

johnny stokes his thumb over the skin of your hip, and you curl into him further -- stranger be damned.

"i'm thirty," he hums, and god, he sounds so fucking sensual you're about to melt into his arms. if you aren't already.

"the guy in the mask?" said man's hand tightens impossibly against your skin, fingers just shy of grazing your aching pussy, "he's thirty-seven. got a lot of experience, aye?"

you shudder.

"what about you?" you end up voicing, shyly meeting the last man's gaze. he takes a slow sip of his whiskey.

he leans back into the cushion, eyeing you carefully.

"forty-three."

your thighs squeeze together, and fuck, if that's not a turn-on. no matter how unsafe you should feel, surrounded by four military-grade, older men, it only manages to have you wet beyond belief.

all you can manage is one question.

"take me home?"

[cultofdarkwood]

thinking about how narinder only remembers the versions of his siblings that he didn't maul. there's a pretty popular (with evidence, one could argue) theory/headcanon that the bishops had their crowns mask over/aid them with their disabilities. but in the lamb's cult, they wouldn't have their crowns anymore, and they'd have to learn how to deal with their disabilities the way mortals do.

im specifically thinking of narinder seeing leshy bumping into things, heket struggling to speak, kallamar needing to learn sign language, and shamura unable to remember most things at any given time, and realizing. "I did that. That's my fault. That's what I did that to them all that time ago."

and then, on the other end, each one of the siblings seeing/realizing that the way narinder's arms and hands shake, why he has "bad pain days", the reason why he can't really do any fine tuned detailed work with his hands the way the lamb's followers can, is because they did that to him. "We did that to him. He's in pain because of us."

all of them realizing, "I hurt you and you hurt me and nothing will ever be the same. But despite everything, I still love you."

and all of them are too scared to ask, "do you still love me?"

[certifiedfreec]

i feel like there would be some subtle signs that ghost took an interest in you…

- one time you were showing him something on the computer, and he took that massive 6’4” body of his and leaned it right over your shoulder to read the screen. as if that wasn’t close enough, he rested one of his big ‘ol calloused hands on the desk beside you, effectively caging you into your seat. you could practically feel the warmth that radiated off of him when he did that. (he really likes the smell of your shampoo, by the way.)

- he watched you make your coffee one morning, memorizing your order down to the number of sugar packets you used. after that, you’d head down to make your morning cup and all the exact ingredients would mysteriously be laid out on the counter for you. he’d pick on you later about drinking coffee instead of tea, though. maybe he’ll make you a cup for you to try- back in his own office, of course ;)

- everyone in tf141 knows you’re a perfectly capable soldier, so they think it’s odd that ghost always finds ways to provide extra backup for you during missions. guarding you from danger, making sure your area is clear of threats…he can’t help but want to protect and take care of his fellow teammate, though he has a list of other ways he’d like to take care of you :’)

i feel like there would be some subtle signs that keegan took an interest in you…

- he saw your phone screen after training one day, immediately zeroing in on the artist you were listening to. later that evening he casually brings up the exact same band/person, because he’s coincidentally one of their biggest fans! maybe he’ll ask you to go to one of their shows when you’re off duty… looks like you’ve found yourself a concert buddy ;)

- he bullies you, but it’s with the best intentions. it’s more like him relentlessly nagging at you until you match his snarky energy and give him some sass back, which he loves to provoke from you. you always have the best comebacks when he uses his dry humor on you, and he thinks it’s adorable. he definitely likes to push your buttons, but he’d like to undo them even more <3

- ever since he revealed your “shared love” for your favorite artist, he sends you music recommendations for you to listen to (that will hopefully make you think of him whenever you hear them!). pay attention to the lyrics, because he might be trying to tell you something with them… :))

i feel like there would be some subtle signs that graves took an interest in you…

- if you have any snacks or candy on you, he’s nonchalantly stepping right beside you and doing that “underhand-behind-the-back” gesture for you to shake some into his palm. (sometimes he imagines that’s what your lips taste like- omg who said that???)

- he let you wear his jacket during an operation where you were in the freezing cold outside for an extensive amount of time. he watched you shiver through your orders, trying your best to be a good soldier for him :( he walked up to you and draped his shadow company jacket over your shoulders (which smelled deliciously like him) and flashed you that toothy grin. “you look like you’re ‘bout to get frostbite, soldier. take this.” (he was definitely thinking of some other ways that he could warm you up…)

- he took his time when he read through your file, and wow, it looks like your city’s professional football team rivals his. it’s the perfect way to initiate banter with you. he’ll be giving you a hard time about it for sure, and maybe he’ll make some interesting bets with you depending on how well the season’s going ;)

[mossytrashcan]

Have you seen my son? Have you seen my beautiful boy?

bonus close up

[hualian]

Good morning to Hualian holding each other's minidolls 😭🦋

[vorpx]

some narilamb yea

[alinkthroughtheages]

Prologue pt. 2

Previous page / next page

[bookholichany]

Photographed by Marc Brenner

All hail, Macbeth! Hail to thee, Thane of Glamis! All hail, Macbeth! Hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor! All hail, Macbeth, that shalt be king hereafter!

[saintpoems]

“at least curse me a little” hits horrendous after its revealed that yuta basically cursed rika to be by his side bc he loved her too much to let her go. like.

[iszapizza]

happy pride to them

[tired-biscuit]

Logan, Logan, the man you are

I can imagine him not wanting to finish inside without a condom (would he use those?), knowing that he can get you pregnant easily (I think he'd be unwilling to do that even when you're on a pill). It's not like there was any talk about kids, either...

I wonder what his stance would be on having kids. How would the talks go? How hard would it be to convince one of you to give up or to compromise?

he’s kind of had lousy experiences when it comes to having kids (cough, daken, cough cough) so i feel like he’d be a bit on the fence about it because he’s scared to settle down again and open up and start a family.

as for the sexual aspect of it, i think he has a breeding kink that doesn’t necessarily involve the actual breeding part…? like, he loves fucking you raw and tormenting you with the idea that he’ll give you babies because it secretly drives you both crazy, but then the very last second, he always pulls out and finishes on your tummy or chest or wherever even if every cell within his body is screaming at him not to, to stay in, to finish what he’s started.

also, i feel like it’d take you ages to convince him to actually spill his load inside you even if you’re on the pill, because he’s positive that the birth control couldn’t possibly overtake his mutant swimmers.

he wants children, he’s just… careful. burned one too many times, you know?

[sweet-shut-eye]

No Second Chances

[yeyinde]

i'm on a virgin reader kick which somehow led me to coupling that w former chief conservation officer/retired alpha John Price. so. you know. shoot me. or something.

It's an accident, of course. 

An unfortunate combination of poor timing and human error. 

But this accident culminates in Price folding his body over you—mating press, you note a touch hysterically; you'd have expected him to be all tradition: presenting to an alpha on your hands and knees, cunt bare for the taking, waiting to be claimed. And while it might not be traditional, Price will claim you tonight. Bully his cock into your drenched cunt, split you wide on the thick of him, on his knot (fuck, fuck, fuck—), and keep you plugged up around him until the unexpected heat passes. 

And really. What's an old, grizzled alpha like him supposed to do when an untouched, unclaimed omega like you—so sweet, so desperate—is thrown headfirst into a vicious, blistering heat. It's not like either of you really have a choice, after all. It's agony. It's want. Primal, instinctual. You need him. Ache with it. The urge, the desperation, to be filled. Claimed. Conquered. Owned.

As he presses bluntly against your drenching slit, notching heavy and insistent into your fluttering, aching hole, spilling slick in thick rivulets down your thighs, over the engorged head of his cock, you can't help but to wonder how could you be so stupid?