#unoriginal title

[vkr-kayne]

(and to watch the anime trailer if u haven't yet)

[ghost-proofbaby]

my little scaredy cat

request: [anon] i would love to see watching horror movies with best friend!eddie and reader instinctively grabs his arm and hides herself against him and it leads to feelings and confessions haha

warnings: none! except it's unedited, which would be scary if that wasn't 90% of my writing on here lmao

pairing: eddie x fem!reader

wc: 3.1k+

i had a lot of fun busting this one out. it's just so cute and certainly how i wish i was spending my halloween! also, rest assured, i am also eyeing the other request you submitting anon. <3 happy haunting, my friends.

This was such a stupid idea. Such a stupid, stupid idea. 

You’ve always been a scaredy cat. Everyone in your friend group was well aware of it – you loved the idea of Halloween, but your poor heart just couldn’t take most of the frights that came with the eccentric holiday. 

It was fine, most of the time. If anyone had the urge to plan out a day at a pumpkin patch, you were eagerly accepting the invitation. If anyone wanted to bake any sort of sweet treats laced with pumpkin spice or caramel apple flavor profiles, you were already in your car and armed with the perfect recipe to help them. Someone wanted to peruse the decoration aisles of various stores? Wait no more, the perfect shopping buddy could be found in you. You, who could handle most of the trivial and sweet aspects of the holiday. You, who divulged in the more aesthetic side of it all rather than the scary side of it. 

Your distaste of being jumpscared or unnerved by gore and ghouls alike only really caused issues when it came to your best friend, Eddie Munson. 

His taste in experience of the frightful time of year was entirely the opposite of yours. It’s not that he didn’t like decorating caramel apples with you or that he didn’t find your choice in decorations cute, because he did. But he liked the terrifying aspect of it all – he liked the adrenaline rush of fictional danger. 

And friendship, in all its glory, is about give and take, is it not? 

Compromise. That’s what he called it when he’d begged and pleaded for you to join him in a movie night. Because the moment the suggestion fell from his lips, you both knew he had no intentions of watching one of your usual festive movies that only teased about the creatures that crept through the night. PG-13 films that didn’t really do it for him. No, Eddie Munson had insisted you join him for a movie night, and you both knew exactly what kind of movie he intended to play. 

You just hadn’t anticipated the scariest fucking movie you’d ever endured for the boy beside you on the couch. 

“Shit!” 

Your squeak is muffled over by the crescendo of creepy instrumental echoing from the small TV across the room. A cycle had quickly been found during this movie night; the movie would fall eerily silent as a tense scene arrived, you’d tense every single muscle so hard that Eddie could feel you shaking from the other side of the couch, and then once the jumpscare occurred and your small squeals were let out involuntarily, his own laughter would follow. 

“Oh, come on,” he coos a little, leaning closer to the middle of the couch, still a fair distance away from your figure bundled up in blankets that were being used more as shields than anything at this point, “That one wasn’t even that bad!” 

“To you!” you snap, yanking the fabric back down from your eyes only to glare at Eddie rather than look at whatever grotesque was plaguing the screen, “I’m a scaredy cat, remember?” 

And oh, remember he does. In all your years of friendship, Eddie had called you that nickname more times than either of you could count. He never meant it with ill will, but it was easier to tease you than to admit just how adorable he found your small reactions. 

Easier to tease than to admit just how badly he wishes you would seek protection or refuge from him during the scares he put you through. 

His face falls slightly, but he doesn’t let his small grin slip up, not wanting to give himself or his twinge of guilt away, “I’m sorry, kitty cat. C’mere – I can protect you from all the big bad monsters-”

Eddie’s opened arms are only met with one of the pillows you’d stolen off his bed to make the couch more comfortable. It smacks into the center of his chest with deadly aim and ferocious power, making him let out an exaggerated oomph. 

“Fuck you,” you grumble, adjusting the blanket around your shoulders now that the scare had passed. You almost tack on a comment about how he’s lucky you like him, because you would never endure this for anyone else.

Robin had tried. Steve had tried. Nancy had tried. They’d all tried to entice you in the scarier, classic Halloween experiences to no avail. Every offer of going to a haunted house, or attending the premiere of the newest horror movies at the local theater, were shot down before they even finished their sentences. 

Only one person could break your staunch demeanor on your limits. And right now, you sort of hated his guts. 

Eddie softens a bit, watching the way you pout and curl into yourself just a little tighter.

“Sweetheart,” he finally drops the cool guy demeanor, his voice gentle as he leans over with genuine concern, “We can turn it off, if you really want. Hell, if you want me to, I’ll put on something in your taste. Little Shop of Horrors, or maybe Beetlejuice? Those don’t usually scare you.” 

The offer is enticing. But you have a point to prove. 

“No,” you sit up a little straighter, square your shoulders with a little more defiance and faux bravery, “No, you wanted to watch…” 

You pause, and Eddie smiles softly as he supplies the title of his film of choice, “Poltergeist.” 

“Right, yes, Poltergeist. You wanted to watch it, so we’re gonna watch it.” 

Your stubbornness is admirable. 

Even when it falters. Even when another jumpscare has you ever so slightly scooching towards the center of the couch, no longer pressed to the opposite arm from Eddie in defiance. Even when Eddie spreads his legs casually, and you bump your knee into his thigh, the slightest touch bringing immense comfort.  

Once you discover that, it all seems downhill from there. 

A press of a knee against the side of his thigh turns into your side brushing his. Suddenly, the blanket you’d wielded like a weapon becomes shared. Moments where you try to hold up a barrier between your eyes and the screen cause slight disturbances in Eddie’s own vision. And then, it happens.

The thing he’d been diabolically planning for years. The one scenario he’d dreamt of every Halloween season, the one intention he’d held secretly every time he’d put your through endless scares. 

The one touch that could send him into cardiac arrest. 

He almost missed it, it happens so suddenly. One moment, you’re just curling up a little bit closer to him. The next, your arms fully wiggly their way around his bicep, capturing his arm in your grasp as your face buries into his shoulder. He can no longer smell the buttery popcorn or faint chocolate on his breath as you invade his space. It’s all sweet shampoo and subtle perfume that tickles his nose, skin against skin in a quick flush as he can hear the vibrations of your predictable scream against the fabric of his shirt. 

You hardly seem to notice the sudden entanglement of your bodies in all your fear — your knees practically in his lap and your torso clinging onto his forearm for dear life. You’re acting on instinct, seeking out humane comfort without considering what you were doing.

When you do notice, you don’t let go, only slacken your grip. 

“Oh, I-“ you stutter, pulling back slightly to look up at a stunned Eddie, “I’m sorry, that’s- I just- I was scared and-“ 

“It’s fine,” he cuts you off, eyes blown wide, “It’s… it’s fine.” 

It’s more than fine.

His heart races in a way no horror movie or haunted house could incite. Every nerve ending tingles, everywhere his body connects to yours burning in delicious warmth. He wants to spend an eternity like this — you, curled up to him, clinging to him like your holy savior. 

Years, and years, and years of wait pays off. Patience is surely virtue as those big eyes of yours look into his. 

After a couple awkward beats of silence, you whisper, “I don’t think I like Poltergeist.” 

Just like that, you have him laughing again. It’s slow and steady, a gentle chuckle that stirs from his chest in disbelief as he tries to thaw from his shock and yearning.

“You think?” he breathes out, tone not nearly teasing enough to cover up the shakiness. 

He swears he can feel your heart pounding against his shoulder. 

“Don’t be mean,” you start to scowl, slowly unfurling. But he stops you — angles his arm so you can’t slip your arms away as easily as before, tilting his head in closer.

“Mean? I could never be mean to you, my little scaredy cat.” 

“You’re literally being mean as we speak-“

And so, he decides to stop speaking. 

It’s impulsive and an even dumber idea than you enduring such a scary movie to be around him. But you look so fucking cute, his heart is tearing up his throat, and suddenly his lips are on yours in his largest spurt of bravery to date. Even more brave than the time he’d made himself a human shield between you and that dude with a chainsaw at the local haunted house, despite the way chainsaws actually kind of made him shit himself.

You don’t fully reciprocate at first. His lips are pressed hard against yours, tips of noses crushed and eyes fluttered shut, and he starts to believe he’s made a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake that just washed years of friendship down the drain. 

Until your hands tighten on his bicep. Until that soft squeeze comes, and it feels like he can breathe again despite sharing the air with you. 

He breaks away for just a second, “I-“

“Don’t be mean,” you repeat your earlier words with entirely new meaning now. He opens his eyes and finds yours already pleading up at his face, glossy and desperate, movie forgotten. 

Those hands once squeezing his bicep let go and move to the collar of his t-shirt. Normally, he’d make a comment about you stretching it out, deforming the perfect fit that took him ages to wear in, but he can’t be bothered to feel anything but delight when you’re tugging him back in for another kiss. 

And the last thing he wants to be is mean. So he kisses you kindly, kisses you with all the care in the world that he had buried beneath his skin since the day he met you. Kisses you like it could scare away all the monsters that wait in the shadows. Like he’d lay down his life to protect you from the very frights he’d been subjecting you to for far too long now. 

“Hey,” he mumbles, pulling back briefly, “Hey.”

This time, his forehead doesn’t leave yours as he pauses the kisses. 

“God, Munson, I’ve waited for this God knows how long, sat through so many fucking scary movies, and you’re really going to-“ 

“Hold on, what?”

He’s grinning so hard, it aches. In his cheeks, in his chest, in the back of his head. Your words sink in and he relishes each syllable, even in your frustration.

“I- Uh,” you pull back suddenly, fingers still loosely tangled in his t-shirt, “I-“

“Enlighten me, sweetheart,” he insists, eyes finally fluttering back open to catch the embarrassment painted plainly across your face. You wear a nearly painful expression that only tightens as you know he’s watching you, “Just how many scary movies have you sat through wanting me to kiss you?” 

“Fuck off,” you sigh out, shaking your head a little, “I mean it. Fuck right off-“

“Cause I could probably give a ballpark number for how many times I’ve wanted to kiss you during them,” he continues on quickly, “Actually, I bet I could count how many times I suggested watching these fuckin’ films just for this moment only to chicken out.” 

Your eyes are open again in an instant. Sparkling with hope and realization of what he was getting at. “Excuse me?”

“Do you really think I’m that mean?” he scoffs, finally reaching up for your hands, surprisingly calm despite the delightful storm wreaking havoc in his chest. He takes your knuckles in his and lets his thumb trail right over them, “No offense, but if I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t have-“

“You like me?” 

Your voice is sweet as honey, bright and drowning out the horror movie still playing. 

He smiles, boyish glint and all, as he confirms, “I like you.” 

You put the first real amount of distance between the two of you since you’d started to cling to him out of fear, almost as if signaling that bravery beginning to bubble over in your chest, “You actually like me?”

“Yes. Is that so hard to believe?”

“No, I- Well, maybe,” you bite your lip, and he’s suddenly dizzy with the need to capture it between his own teeth, “I just… I always thought you might like someone a little braver.”

His nose wrinkles, hands still twisting yours in his, “Excuse me? I think you’re plenty brave.” 

“Eddie, you’ve said it yourself, I’m a goddamn scaredy cat.”

“So?”

“So,” you persist, shuffling so that your legs fold beneath you and you gain some leverage over him, “You’re the exact opposite. You love scary things. Not even just during Halloween, but year round. And you’re telling me you like me even though I’m a scaredy cat.” 

“I like you because you’re a scaredy cat, thank you very much,” he corrects you immediately, “I love the way you always need me to protect you. I know, I know — not very feminist of me. I’m sorry. It’s just- it’s really fuckin’ cute, y’know?” now that his floodgates have opened, he’s pouring out all the words he’s held back for so long, “And besides, you’re more than just a scaredy cat. You’re also so smart, so beautiful, so funny. Yeah, you scare easily, but you’re also the same person who is the first to put me in my place when I’m being an absolute little shit. And don’t even get me started on all the cute faces you make when you’re talking about things you actually like, or when you’ve been baking with Nance and have flour all over your cheeks-“ 

“Okay, okay,” you stop his rambling before he can embarrass you any further. Any more affection, and your face might end up buried in his shoulder again, “I get it. You like me.” 

It’s quiet for a few moments. The two of you only stare, both smiling stupid, the screams of whatever climax occurring in the movie not even reaching your ears. All you can hear is the echo of his words, of his admission. And all he can hear is the pretty way your breath catches when he gives a small squeeze to your palm. 

It’s nice. It should be more anxiety inducing, it should be more dramatic. Eddie Munson should be absolutely losing his mind right now because he just kissed his best friend he’s been in love with for ages, but he isn’t. Actually, for the first time in a while, it feels as though he’s finally found it — he’s found his mind, he’s found his peace as he’s staring at your shy expression. It just feels right. Like a sigh of relief from the Universe. 

“I like you, too,” you break the silence, unable to meet his gaze, “I mean, you probably already got that, but-“

“Say it again.”

“Huh?”

“I did gather that, but my God, please say it again.” 

Your eyes meet him, and another piece clicks into place. 

Right. It’s so fucking right.

“I like you,” you repeat yourself, a smile beginning to dance on your lips. He can’t help himself — he leans forward and pecks the corner of your upturned mouth, “I like you,” the repetition is music to his ears as he plants a second kiss on your cheek, “I like you, Munson.” 

His peppered kisses mark every inch of skin available to him, making giggles begin to escape you. You even try to hide from his onslaught, but it’s no use. He’s quick to drop your hands and wrap his arms around you, tugging you in close and trapping you against him as each kiss grows more obnoxious. Loud smacking sounds, deliberately leaving spit behind that has you squealing. It’s nothing like the squeaks from when you were watching the movie; these small noises are filled with a little more joy, a little more happiness that only fuels Eddie.

“Eddie!” you try to scold, placing two hands on his solid chest, “Oh my God, stop it. You’re gross.” 

“You love it,” he mutters with his mouth fully pressed to your temple, nose buried in your hair. That sweet, sweet shampoo intoxicating him.

You like him. He didn’t fuck it up. 

You finally go slack in his touch, succumbing and letting him place you in his lap, curled up comfortably as you sigh, “Yeah. Okay, maybe I do. Whatever.” 

“Oh, don’t act all tough now, kitty cat.” 

Your hands are curled back in the fabric against his chest and you share the wonderful ache he had been feeling in his own cheeks and bones as you look down at him with playfully squinted eyes.

When he ducks down for another kiss, you stop him easily, “Nope. First, I have a request.” 

“Anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything. Name it, and it’s yours.” 

“Please turn off that goddamn movie.” 

He throws his head back in laughter that shoots straight for your heart. The kind of laughter that haunts a chilled autumn night as children prance the streets for candy, as teenagers get into mischief in distant bonfire parties, as elderly couples enjoy morning coffees over eerie fog. 

It kind of feels like home. It kind of feels like everything is as it should be, finally. 

“I suppose I can do that for you, my little scaredy cat,” he muses as his head tilts back forward, chest swelling with affection, “Besides, I think I know something we can do that’s a little more fun than watching the Poltergeist.” 

“Oh, yeah? And what would that be?”

His arms tighten around you as he suddenly throws the two of you to lay down on the couch, his body hovering over yours and pick necklace nipping at your chin while he reaches out to click off the TV. The weight of him between your hips feels even better than either of your wildest dreams.

Years. You couldn’t believe it had taken years for this, and neither could he. But patience is virtue, and he probably would have waited another thousand years for this feeling, truth be told. 

“This,” he says boldly once the TV buzzes in sudden silence, dipping down and continuing where the two of you left off. Two sets of lips fit together like the world’s easiest jigsaw puzzle.

It’s safe to say the rest of the night, any further squeaks and squeals you let out aren’t due to ghosts.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @gagasbee @d64d-n0t-sl66p1ng @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n

[fohatic]

Tony Stark / "Human"

a fill for square K5 of my @tonystarkbingo card: "weakness"

[semperama]

Come and Taste

I finally managed to write something for @summerofbuddie! Here's my contribution for smut week.

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Evan Buckley/Eddie Diaz Additional Tags: First Time, Multiple Orgasms, Come Eating, Snowballing, Pregnancy Kink, Barebacking, Overstimulation, Episode: s06e07 Cursed (9-1-1 TV), Fix-It, Porn with Feelings Words: 5400 Summary:

He lets go of Buck’s arm so he can turn toward him, finally, and Buck’s eyes are wide and round, his mouth shiny-wet like he’s been running his tongue over it. Eddie wants to press his thumb there, but he palms Buck’s hip instead, draws him closer. “Give it to me instead,” he says. It’s—an insane thing to say, but he doesn’t fucking care, his body and mind and mouth out of his control.

[deejadabbles]

Take a Ride (Rex x fem!Reader) Spice!

Summary: Rex had always had amazing thighs, but now there was only one fantasy you wanted to fulfill with them.

Fem reader, no mentions of physical description.

This is a 18+ content! Minors be gone!

A.N: So, after @littlemissmanga gave her analysis of Rex's armor in this post, I had way too many thots about how to abuse that armor. This is the result! Nothing but filth here folks. I sort of had a jedi reader in mind when writing this, but that's never explicitly stated, just has general "forbidden relationship" vibes.

Word Count: 3388

Warnings: Thigh riding, slightly dominant Rex, secret relationships, dirty talk, armor kink (sort of?), clothed male, praising, mutual masturbation, porn with minimal plot (riding Rex's thigh into the sunset. that's it. that's the plot)

Rex was a smart man. Observant, tactical, intuitive. And you were an open book to him.

Or at least, that’s how it felt whenever you locked eyes across the room. You didn’t have to spell out your desires to him, not now, not after so long of learning every inch of each other. He didn’t need you to bite your lip or bat your eyelashes, it was all there in the subtlety of your gaze, the rise of your chest, the clench of your fingers.

All he had to do was catch your gaze, and he knew what you wanted.

It was good, for so so many reasons, but paramount among them was the fact that you could hardly flirt so openly with him. The two of you had to learn to communicate with nothing more than the smallest of gestures, the shortest of glances. The only times you could truly call out to each other, beg for each other, demand each other, was in the stolen moments of a locked office or cheap hotel on Coruscant.

So really, it shouldn’t have come as a shock, that he could read your wants, when he caught you staring at something more specific than his whole (damn sexy) person.

No one could blame you. Rex always had amazing thighs, you loved biting them as you teased him mercilessly, loved gripping them when you had him moaning at your mouth, and you loved being tangled in them as he buried himself inside you. You had always loved his thighs, but this made something new flare in you, now that you had noticed a certain…detail in the new clone armor.

How had you never noticed it before? Every free moment you had near him was taken up with staring him up and down, knowing you’d never get your fill of him. You had memorized every inch of his body, gazed endlessly at the armor that kept him alive day after day.

So why had it only been when he pounded you from behind while in full armor that you noticed his tassets had ridges to them?

Your body throbbed at the memory, the way he had sought you out the moment he was back on the ship after weeks apart, the way he had ripped your clothes off with such desperate need, the way he took you hard and impatient.

It was only in that moment that you felt them digging in, the subtle little peaks cresting the full length of the armor piece. And now they were all you could think about. Rex had always had amazing thighs, but now there was only one fantasy you wanted to fulfill with them.

Rex was observant and tactical and intuitive. He knew all your subtle looks and gestures, so, it didn’t take him long to figure you out when you started staring at one part of him in particular.

The first time he caught you staring was during a briefing. To your credit, you were still listening to Anakin’s report, you were just also stealing glances because you were a skilled multitasker. You had been feigning contemplation, letting anyone who might look your way think that you were staring at nothing in particular, while you were actually focused on those little raised ridges. When you sensed you had been ‘gazing absently’ for too long, you made yourself look up- only to catch Rex’s eye.

He tilted his chin up just the slightest bit before looking away.

In the private language of your subtle gestures to one another, that might as well have been a knowing smirk. 

Of course, he knew you were thinking about him, but, he probably didn’t know exactly what you were thinking; besides general heat and need, right? Force, he probably assumed you were staring at his codpiece, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time. The knowledge of your exact fantasy was safe.

But that was an assurance that became harder to hope for the second time he caught you staring.

You were helping him run drills, stopwatch pulled up on your bracer, clocking every trooper who ran Rex’s course. At first, Rex had been pacing along the end of the track, hands behind his back in an authoritative stance as he watched his men work. Then he stood to the side, hands on hips as he barked orders. If both of those hadn’t been distracting enough, then he had propped his leg up on a crate as he called for them to keep going and live up to the 501st standards. 

That did you in.

The way his thigh was level, lined like the perfect seat, was too much. Your mind was racing with the most impure thoughts, the ideas of what the hard, angled plastoid might feel like made heat fill you almost instantly. It just might be the perfect shape, slotting perfectly against your clit, between your folds. And with Rex being the one under that armor piece? Maker, you knew he’d buck and roll you perfectly against it, make sure it moved just right for the friction you’d crave and-

Kriff!

You almost- almost didn’t stop your watch in time when Fives came darting past you.

You could already feel the mess pooling in your panties, just the thought of it all making you wet- that would be fun to deal with for the rest of the drills. Somehow, you managed to keep your voice mostly steady when you called out Fives’ time, but, when you met Rex’s eye again, you knew you were caught. He held your gaze firm, a silent knowing passing between you, that he had heard the barely there shake in your voice. The stare was practically a smug scolding, reminding you that it would be a long time before you could change out of the sopping underwear. He allowed his gaze to slide south, glancing over your core as they turned to Fives. Something no one but you would notice.

Considering all the other times you had stolen glances at his thighs, you had thought that he wouldn’t make the connection, having only caught you twice. But you should have known better, you should have known he’d figure you out.

Once the drills were done and everyone was making their way out of the simulator, you trailed far behind everyone else, trying to get your breathing under control. Keeping your mind out of the gutter for the rest of the training had not been easy and you were ready to change into clean undergarments.

Until you passed an adjacent corridor and felt hands grab you.

You gasped as they pulled you in, but the familiar feel of your captain filled your senses as your back hit the cold wall. Lips closed over yours before you could so much as blink up at him, gloved hands scrambling to find your wrist and pin them beside your head.

“You should know better than to look at me like that in public, mesh’la,” Rex growled against your mouth.

“You’re one to talk,” was your panted retort as you glanced down the empty, but still very open corridor. This was not like Rex, he never indulged in you in such an easy place to get caught. As appealing as the fantasy was, neither of you could stomach what would happen if you were caught.

He hummed in response, even as his legs started moving, “That look of yours worked me up too much,” one slotted itself between your thighs, shoving them apart as it pressed into you.

And you let out a shaking moan.

Rex only chuckled as you clamped your hand over your mouth, face hot as he pressed his armored limb against your throbbing center. “So, that is it,” he mused into your ear, “That’s what you’ve been thinking about. You think you're so sneaky, stealing looks at-”

He paused suddenly, going stiff as you heard it too: armored feet closing in. Rex flew off of you as fast as lighting, but you still barely had time to lower your hands into a dignified position before the troopers rounded the corner.

The men instantly saluted when they saw you two, but otherwise paid no mind as they marched by. Still, it was enough for both of you to come to your senses. Rex still looked at you out of the corner of his eye, breathing just a little ragged as you both waited for the group to be out of earshot.

When Rex spoke again, it was low and clear. “My office. Tonight,” the pupils of his eyes were still blown wide as he flicked them downward, to where he had likely felt how soaked you were. “And don’t change out of those.”

“Sir yes sir,” you hummed, because you knew it would make him just as wet as he made you. The shuddering breath he let out told you it took all his willpower not to pin you against that wall again.

The night couldn’t come fast enough.

It was only through years of self-discipline that you were able to get any work done at all, between your mind replaying that scene over and over again. Rex’s body holding you at his mercy, his hot mouth devouring yours, even the thrill of almost getting caught. Above all though, you ached at the brief preview of his thick tight bucking up against your core.

You were glad you hadn’t bothered with changing (as per his orders), because the clean pair of panties would have just been ruined as you turned the memory over in your head again and again. 

Getting through your daily reports was the worst part, Rex’s words coming back to you between each line of text you managed to type. Of course, it was almost a blessing, because when Skywalker came by to check on you, you still had a pile of work to groan about: the perfect cover. Everyone would think you were busy working all night, not sneaking off for a secret rendezvous.

And when you finally thought it was late enough to slip away unnoticed, you never flew through reports faster.

The corridors were empty save for the occasional trooper who saluted you, so there were no setbacks when you reached the door of his office. 

“Enter,” came his voice after a short pause when you knocked.

When the door slid open, you were greeted with the sight of him sitting at his desk, leaning back in his chair, legs spread wide, and chin resting on his fist. You sealed the door the moment it closed, not taking your eyes off him as it locked.

“Finally,” Rex hummed, a hint of a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. Then he beckoned you closer with the hand that wasn’t supporting his head, “Come here, cyare. I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice, you made your way across the room, shifting off your first, outer layer of clothing as you went. The garment fell to the floor as he slid his chair back, leaning forward to pull you between his legs. 

Rex’s hands were instantly pushing your shirt up, “Take this off, sweetheart, I want to have a nice view.”

A whimper at the combination of his words and hands left you, but you did as told, stripping your top half while he pulled at the belt of your pants. Fingers worked their way across your skin as he slid them down your legs. He had obviously regained his patients in your hours apart, because he took his time sliding his hands over the backs of your legs as he made his way up to your underwear.

Only then did he take his eyes off your body, lifting them to meet your own, right before his hand cupped your pussy. Your head fell back with a moan as he massaged you through the fabric and hummed with approval at the wet state of them.

“You’ve been like this all day, haven't you, mesh’la?”

“Yes,” you breathed, but managed to look back at him again, “that’s what you do to me, Rex, just thinking about you gets me wet.”

Once upon a time, Rex would have turned red at such filthy, bold words, so awkward and unsure of himself, but you two were well past that now. 

He proved it when he said, “Oh, I know what you’ve been thinking about, cyare.” 

Rex always struck fast when he had a plan in mind, and here with you was no different. He grasped your hips, those big hands of his able to move your body any way he wanted, and he wanted you against him. 

An ‘oh!’ of pleasured surprise rang through the room when he pulled you down to straddle his thigh. He didn’t say a word as he shifted you, lining you up perfectly with the ridge of his armor. However, when you tried to rock yourself against him, his hands gripped your hips in warning.

“No. Not yet,” he said and despite the firmness, his tone was gently patient, “You don’t move until I tell you, mesh’la.”

Your skin prickled at the soft command, you loved it when he got like this. “Anything for you, Captain,” you made sure your own voice was delicate, practically a moan of its own.

And oh, did Rex’s smile turn dangerous as he said, “Good girl.”

With that, he kept his eyes on where your still-clothed core met his armor, and started pulling you forward. Pleasure rippled up your body instantly, and he let out a pleased chuckle when you had to reach out to grip his shoulders for support.

“You’re already soaking my leg. Just thinking about this got you so worked up?” Rex let out a little mock of a disapproving noise, then started back in on the sentiment he wanted to say back in that hallway. “You thought you were so sneaky, stealing glances at me like that.” 

His hands gripped your hips harder, digging in just enough to leave a faint mark as he kept dragging you forward against the hard length of plastoid, sending pulses of pleasure through your core. 

"You don't think I notice, the way you look at my thighs? Is this what you were imagining? Were you thinking about how perfect it might feel, hard between your legs?" He finally looked up from the mess you were making of his armor, eyes locking with yours again, "Tell me how it feels, cyar'ika.”

The answer came out like a needy whimper, “Perfect!” The ridge got higher and more pronounced the further up you went, and it pressed so deliciously against your clit. “Maker, it feels perfect- you feel perfect, Rex!”

He hummed approvingly, then looked back down at his handiwork. Rex heard the sounds you let out as he pulled you higher and higher up his leg, and as always, he was a smart, intuitive man.

“Right here,” he whispered, seating you right at the point where the peak of the armor was highest, digging into your most sensitive spot delightfully. “There we go, perfect.” 

That’s when Rex started rocking you back and forth in short motions, making rapid bursts of pleasure coarse through you. He was testing the waters and loving the resulting cries you let out. 

“Just the right spot for you, and the perfect view for me,” Rex hummed in approval.

He wasn’t wrong, your bodies were close, but not so flush against each other that he couldn’t see you grinding against him. Unfortunately, that’s when he stopped his rocking motions and let go of your hips.

You didn’t bother hiding your whimper of disapproval, but he only cupped your face lovingly.

“You’ve been a good, patient girl, cyare. Now, I want you to get yourself off. Ride me until you come, understand?”

“Yes- yes, sir.” Your mind was so hazy with need, but, the desire to please your Captain broke through the blissful fog, “but what about you?”

“Me?” he chuckled again as he dropped his hands and leaned back, eyes drinking in your almost naked body, “I told you I wanted a view, and I’m going to enjoy it.”

In that case, you would give him more than a view, you’d give him a show.

Despite still feeling shaky, you managed to let go of his shoulders. Your half-lidded gaze stayed on his as you started trailing your fingertips across your collarbone. The way his tongue darted out to wet his lips as he watched made you smile. Then, just as you started moving your fingers between the valley of your breasts, you rocked your hips forward.

That pleasure burst through you again, making you throw your head back, not caring how graphic you sounded as you took what you had been craving, what you needed. 

“Oh no you don’t,” Rex scolded, “keep your eyes on me, mesh’la,” his hand reached down and cupped his codpiece, “want you to look at me while you have your fun.”

You obeyed, whimpering as you rocked back and forth and met his eyes again. Maker, the way he looked at you, hand rubbing himself down while his gaze took in your wandering hands and your thrusting hips, only to dart back up to your eyes again. Since the first night he saw you bare, and all the other heated moments, Rex always looked at you like that. He looked at you as if you were the most intoxicating sight in the galaxy.

That alone made you quiver, but the way your climax was already starting to build had you shaking. You knew your body and knew how to get your end, and as much as you wanted to relish the moment, you weren’t sure you could last long with his hungry gaze watching your every move.

As your lower body pulsed with every rub against his thigh, you cupped your breasts, biting your lip at the added sensation. Pleasure wracked through you on both ends now, and it was hard to keep eye contact with him as you moaned and gasped.

Rex let out a pleased noise at the show you were giving him, “By the force, you look so perfect like this, my perfect girl-” his breath hitched on the last word as his hand continued to work at his cover cock.

You were close now, climbing to the peak, spurred on by him getting off from nothing but the sight of you. Fingers pinched your nipples, as your own thighs clamped on either side of his. Somehow, as your rocking became fast and shallow, you still kept your eyes locked on him, that coil tightening and tight-

“Scream for me, cyar’ika,” Rex growled, “scream my name!”

That’s what did you in, and his name came out a ragged wail when your orgasm ripped through you. It was a whole-body kind of climax, the kind that sent numbing ripples of pleasure all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes.

Rex’s arms were around you in an instant, pulling you against the hard plate of his chest as you shook and heaved your ragged breaths. The armor was cool against your burning skin, and Rex rubbed his hands up and down your back with care.

“That’s my girl, doing as asked, keeping your eyes on me the whole time, making pretty sounds. Now look at you, so spent, you enjoy riding my thigh that much?”

Despite the fact that you knew it was a rhetorical question, you nodded your head against his chest, which made a chuckle vibrate under the armor.

“Well then, we’re going to have to do this again, aren’t we? I liked watching you get off like that, mesh’la. You were stunning.”

“Thank you,” you panted, sounding tired and half dazed, breath fogging up his armor, “thank you for always knowing what I want.”

Rex kissed your temple, then he was pulling your body into the position he wanted again, this time curled up in his lap as his hands wandered where they liked.

“You know giving you what you want, is what I want, cyare. Always.”

As soon as you were able to move without shaking, you were going to give this perfect man anything and everything else he may want.

Tag list: @blueink-bluesoul @dystopicjumpsuit @sinfulsalutations

@freesia-writes @wings-and-beskar (you two seemed interest so I hope you don't mind the tags lol)

[abhorrenttheorizer]

Some Sky titling nomenclatures or some shit

So a HC of mine I wanted to briefly mention is naming titles for Sky's people, and how children, adults, elders, and Megabird are addressed. I may expand on this later.

Firstly, Skids and child spirits (at the time they were alive) name themselves, as to their people, identity is very important, so parents will not name their children and instead leave them to choose when they're old enough. Sometimes the results are disastrous, and you'll have adults in esteemed positions named "Grass" or something.

Rythulian naming customs tend to keep to what is natural, visible, tangible, and so on. So names such as "Butterfly", "Cliff's Edge", "Dove", "Meteor", "Beetle", and so on are quite common. Symbolic or implicit names are less common, only found in those who have changed their name later in life, or didn't choose a name for themselves until they deemed themselves old enough to do so.

Lastly, is the usage of pronouns and gendered titles.

Idk if I should link an earlier post, but I hc that Sky's people and Rythulians in general, through all stages of their development, are physiologically hermaphrodic. When relating to gonochoric specimens, they will use separate nouns, but for themselves, pronouns are largely used for titles, and not for denoting any kind of gender.

"They" or "He" is used for children, adolescents, and adult Rythulians, and they may be used interchangeably. The elders are almost exclusively referred to as "He". "She" is almost exclusively reserved for Megabird.

Megabird is referred to as "she", because she is the only entity that brings the birth of new children, as adults of their species neither give birth nor lay eggs (I may briefly go into how I imagine these things reproduce, but that's a post for another time), instead relying on their unborn to be gestated in stars within the body of Megabird. Without her, new souls cannot be born and those who have died cannot be reborn.

Daleth, who shepherds newborn children down to the Isle, among other things relating to the guidance and guardianship of newborns to young children, may also be referred to as "she", thanks to his role in aiding the birth of new Rythulians. However Daleth is only referred to as "she" in the context of shepherding souls. In other contexts, he is 'he' along with the other elders.

Elders are referred to as "he" because they aren't explicitly joined within Megabird like the people they guard over are, and besides Daleth, have no role in facilitating or aiding the birth of new souls. Because of this, they are farther away from the connected existence descendant Rythulians have.

As for titling, it's fully dependent on the role that the descendants, ancestors, elders, and Megabird herself have.

Words like "king", "lord", and "god", to name a few have female counterparts such as "queen", "lady", and "goddess", since they are high esteeming titles that may be applied to Megabird.

However words like "prince", "sir", "mister", and so on only have their masculine counterparts with no feminine equivalents, since they are lesser esteemed titles that, if applied to Megabird, would be considered disrespectful.

[lostworldss]

Just something funny about how everyone just simply nicknamed MC as “The Hero of Whitetower/Morella” as if there’s never been a single other hero in Whitetower’s history.

The implication is crazy, like this kingdom has existed for decades and multiple generations of the royal family have taken the throne and yet the first/only Hero of it’s history worth naming is this random person from a town they haven’t even heard of. Either that, or there was a past Hero of Whitetower and they just snatched their title away to give it to MC.

[cealesti]

writing fic and preparing a oneshot DnD campaign for my DM debut isn't enough, no

i need to write a fictional campaign for a fic, too

[illfoandillfie]

Smile For the Camera (Kinktober Day 13: Filming)

Kinktober Masterlist | Regular Masterlist

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader

Words: 2,957

Warnings: hypnosis, bimbofication/intelligence play, oral sex (m receiving), spanking, fingering, some begging, a hint of crying

A/N: Part of the Future Management universe. Aaaaaages ago I got a comment on AO3 that suggested a storyline where Roger and Reader make a bimbo sex tape with the possibility of some angsty consequences and it's been in the back of my mind ever since. So when I put filming on the kinktober prompt list I thot it was the perfect chance to actually write the sex tape making lmao. 

“Is it working?” you hugged your knees tighter to your chest as you watched Roger fiddling with the new video camera he’d bought on a whim.   “Should be,” he nodded, closing the tape inside and repositioning it on the dresser. He turned to you when he was happy with its setup, “Are you sure you want to do this?”  “Yeah, I do.”  “Okay.” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “you remember the safe word?”  “Yes, I remember it. And we tested out the safe word trigger last time so we know it works and I’ll be able to tap out if I want to. I’m ready, let’s do it.”  “Alright love. I’m going to turn the camera on and then I’ll trance you like normal but we’re also going to try that spanking thing we talked about.”  “Mmhmm. And then you’ll play with me for a bit before you pick up the camera for some close-up shots.”  “Okay, okay, I get it, you’re ready.”  “We’ve been over it a hundred time. I know the plan and I trust you. Just do whatever feels right.”  Roger nodded and tilted your face up so he could give you a proper kiss, soft and sweet, before leaving you to turn the gadget on.  

When he came back he knelt behind you and stroked your hair as he started talking you down. It was hard for you to fully focus on his words at first, your attention constantly drifting to the camera, equal parts nervous and excited. But Roger was patient and gentle. He’d learnt a lot about talking you into your bimbo state and so was able to draw you back to his voice and eventually his words stuck. You found yourself feeling calm, relaxing back so you were leaning against Roger as you breathed deeply at his instruction. And then you felt yourself getting warmer, squirming in place as a sharp need for physical touch rose in you. And every second your desire grew, your thoughts diminished. Roger made you listen and then told you to stop thinking, that he would think enough for both of you, which just made you listen harder and so think less and less and less. By the time he was telling you to wake up you were already smiley and giggly and thinking only of his cock.   “Hi Doll,”  “Hi Sir,” you tilted your head back as far as you could so you could see Roger better, laughing about how he was sort of upside down.   He touched the tip of your nose, “You’re cute. But there’s someone else you need to say hi to.”  “Who?” you looked around excitedly but saw no one. Until Roger pointed the camera out. You scrambled to your knees and crawled to the end of the bed to get a closer look.   “I’m going to be filming you today,” Roger explained, “So that when I wake you up and you’re all smart again, you can watch yourself be my very good girl.”  You puzzled over the camera, confused by what Roger meant, “I don’t want to be smart.”  Roger tried not to laugh as he shuffled towards you, “You don’t have to be. Not right now. But are you okay with the video?”  “Mmhmm!” you didn’t really understand what he meant but you were happy for anyone to see you being a good girl.  “Well, why don’t you show the camera what you’re wearing then. Stand up and do a spin for us.”  You nodded eagerly and clambered off the bed, “ummm, I’m wearing my faaaaaavourite bra which is pink and Sir always says it makes my tits look sooooooo fuckable.” You giggled, “And thennnn this cute skirt which feels so nice, especially when Sir lets me ride him. And- can I have your cock Sir?”  “Not yet my silly slut, finish telling me about your outfit. What shoes have you got on?”  “These ones,” you kicked your leg up so he could see better. “They make me tall but they can be kind of hard to walk in. But that’s okay. I can just crawl instead.” You dropped to your hands and knees and crawled over to Roger, kneeling between his legs and looking up at him pleadingly, “Now can I have cock?”  “You can have all the cock you want. But you’ll have to wait a little bit first.”  You pouted but nodded. Roger said that you should be good for the other people watching, so you had to be good.   “You look very pretty though, it’s making me hard.”  “You mean it Sir?”  “Of course Doll. It’s a very slutty outfit. I think if you bent over I’d be able to see your pretty pussy all ready for me. Should we see?”  You nodded and got to your feet again, turning away from Roger and bending over so he’d have a good view. You stayed bent over as Roger stood up, as he grabbed your hips, as he adjusted your position. He explained that he had to show the camera how much of a slut you were, stroking his fingers along your pussy lips as he talked. You hummed at the contact, pleased that you’d pleased him.   “How come you picked this outfit Doll?” Roger asked as he pulled you to stand up again.  You thought about it and then shrugged.  “You don’t know?”  You shrugged again, “It makes me feel....ummm....”  “Makes you feel what? Take your time, love, I know it’s hard to know the words.”  “There's so many,”  “So many words”  You nodded and Roger laughed softly.   “Do you like it Sir?”  “I like it very very much.”  You couldn’t help but smile at that, feeling that if your Sir was happy then he’d have to let you lick his cock and taste his cum and bounce on his lap and oh god you wanted him so so much it was all you could think about.  “But you were saying it makes you feel something Doll, what do you feel?”  You giggled again, “I feeeeeel,” you ran your hands over your body, feeling your breasts and your hips and your thighs, “I feel horny and dumb!”  Roger had to laugh. You’d said it with such joy and enthusiasm it was impossible not to be completely charmed by it. He loved being able to tap into this side of you, loved that you loved being this way. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into him so he could kiss you.  

Roger had to carefully unhook your arms from around him when he pulled away. You’d pressed yourself against him and it had taken all his self-control not to fuck you then and there. But that wasn’t what you’d agreed on when you’d decided to film yourselves. Half the reason you’d been interested and okay with doing it was because you were curious to see yourself in your bimbo state. And he wanted to make sure he did it properly for you. So, he disentangled himself, ignoring your whine, and told you to kneel on the bed.   You eagerly got into position, hopeful that if you were good enough you’d get what you really wanted. Curiously, you watched as Roger walked over to the dresser and picked up the thing that had been watching you. If only you could remember what it was called. The word was lost in the depths of your hazy bimbo brain, but you didn’t have to puzzle over it for long.   “Smile for the camera Doll,”  You smiled, big and brainless. Your Sir always made you want to smile. He reminded you of cock and you were happy when you thought about cock.   “Now tell the camera what you are.”  “Ummmm, dumb?”  “And? Sir’s what?”  “Sir’s silly bimbo slut!”  “And what are you going to let Sir do to you?”  You giggled, amused by all the questions, “Whatever he wants!”  “You gonna suck his cock?”  “Mmmmhmmmm. I loooove his cock so much.”  Roger laughed from behind the camera, “How about if Sir spanks you? Or chokes you? Or edges your little whore pussy?”  You whined, not sure if you fully understood all the possibilities but overwhelmed by them all the same, “Yes please Sir.”  “You’re so polite,” Roger cooed, grabbing you by the chin, his thumb pressing against your lips until you parted them. ‘How about we start with your mouth and work our way down.   ‘Thir-” you said around his thumb, “Does ‘at ‘ean...”  He nodded, pulling his thumb free but keeping hold of your chin, “Yes Doll, you’re allowed to suck me off now. But. Mr Camera will be watching the whole time, and if he doesn’t think you’re doing a good enough job then Sir will have to punish you.”  “I’ll be good Sir, I promise. I’ll lick you’re cock so good and swallow alllllll your cum.”  “Go on then. Show us how much of a cockslut you are.”  As soon as he let you go you surged forward, mouthing at his cock through his jeans. You traced the outline of it with your lips and tongue, kissing his rapidly stiffening length. But it wasn’t right. You couldn’t taste it properly. You wanted him in your mouth, you wanted to feel him fill your throat, to taste him cum. The jeans were in the way, so you whined as you continued to try to wrap your lips around him through the fabric.   “You forgot something dummy.” Roger lightly batted you away so he could unzip his fly and push his pants down. He’d barely gotten his cock out and you were already moving closer, moaning as you put your lips on him for real.  Roger made sure he got it all on tape, keeping the camera trained on you as you enthusiastically sucked him off. If he didn’t know how brainless you were he’d have thought you were faking your interest. Your moans were comically frequent, made every time he so much as twitched under your attentions but especially when precum leaked from his tip. At one point you licked a saliva coated tongue along his length and then sat back giggling. And when he asked what was so funny you couldn’t respond except to say you loved cock. He could only imagine how you’d react when you saw just how stupidly cock obsessed you were. You’d be embarrassed probably, but he hoped you’d be turned on too. The camera lost you for a moment as he stopped paying attention to where it was pointing, too lost in thoughts about fucking you while making you watch your bimbo self, how hot it would be to make you cum to that. But as soon as he realised the focus had slipped he righted the machine, taking a better hold of it and pointing it at your face.   “Stop, dummy,” he grunted. It was a shame to halt your greedy attentions, but he had a particular image he wanted recorded.  “Sir?”  “Wank me off instead.”  You pouted but wrapped your hand around his length, poking your tongue between your teeth as you concentrated on stroking him.   Roger groaned and praised you as he got closer, which just made you smile more and more, happy with how happy you were making your Sir. When he came suddenly you let out a surprised “oh!” and then giggled and wiggled happily in place as his cum spurted over your face, making sure to milk every drop from him. Roger made sure he filmed you grinning as you greedily licked cum from your fingers, as if you’d just been given the best treat in the world.  

While you were enjoying the reward, Roger turned to put the camera back down.   “Where are you going Sir?” you pouted at his back.  “Nowhere baby, just putting Mr Camera on the dresser again.”  “What’s a dresser?”  He laughed a little but didn’t reply straight away, busy adjusting the focus and zoom, “Don’t worry baby, silly little bimbo sluts don’t need to worry about that.”  “Okay! Can I suck your cock?”  Roger looked directly into the camera as he rolled his eyes, “See how fucking dumb you are?” but his next words were directed at you on the bed, “You’ve just done that dummy.”  “Oops, I forgot.”  “Well maybe Sir needs to give you something you can’t forget. Turn around.”  You bit your lip, not sure what he meant but excited that he was going to give you something, and did as he asked.   Roger helped position you, grabbing your hips and pulling your arse into the air, pushing between your shoulders so you lowered your head and chest.  You giggled into the sheets as you felt him slowly stroke your arse cheek but then gasped as he gave you a light spank.   “How was that slut?”  “Feels good Sir.”  “Yeah? How about this?”  There was a crack and you whined as his palm met your flesh, much harder than the first.   “Now I want to test something Doll. A little magic I put in your bimbo brain.”  “Magic?”  “Mmhmm. I’m going to click my fingers and you’ll go to sleep, but only for a second. And when I wake you, the magic will be working. Okay?”  “Okay.”  If Roger hadn’t told you what was happening, you wouldn’t have even known you’d been asleep. He’d done most of the work when he’d first talked you down and so really only had to activate the trigger he’d set up before he snapped his fingers to wake you again.   “Hi again, dummy. You ready to test out the magic?”  You giggled, “Ummmm, yes?”  “Good girl. Now, look at me Doll, that’s right. You remember how I hit you before? You remember what it felt like?”  You rubbed over the spot where his hand had landed and nodded, whimpering softly as you remembered the sharp sting of it.   “Well, because of my magic, whenever I say a specific word, you’re going to feel it again, okay?”  “What?”   “Spank.”  “Ow!” You were shocked by the sudden, unexpected, smack. You’d had your eyes on your Sir and he hadn’t moved at all.  “Good, it works.” Roger smiled, rubbing your back softly, “So, whenever I say that word again, you’re going to feel like you’ve been smacked. But don’t worry, I’m going to make you feel so good too.”  You nodded, completely confused by how he’d spanked you without raising a hand but keen to take whatever he wanted to give you. And, seconds later, you learnt just how good he meant to make you feel.   “Did you get this wet from sucking cock, or are you always so drippy when your brain turns off?” Roger asked as he slid his fingers along your slit.  “Both?” you asked, not at all sure.  “Probably,” he agreed, rewarding you by pressing a finger into your hole. “Or maybe it was the spank.”  You squealed as you felt the power of his hand hitting you again.  

He kept it up for a while, gradually giving you more of his fingers, interspersing the word spank into his praise and encouragement. He kept up constant chatter, sometimes directed to you – telling you how good you were and how much he loved playing with your pussy and how he was going to have to fuck it later. He’d drop the word spank in casually, just part of the conversation, as if he barely remembered the power he’d given it. But then there were times where he was talking more to the camera, laughing about how much of a slut you were, how eagerly you were clenching on his fingers. And then he’d say spank like it was a challenge. Asking the camera if it would like to see you be spanked again, wondering aloud how many times he could say it before you cried. Usually, that’s when he’d speed his movement up, finger fuck you hard and fast as he said, “Spank. Spank. Spank.” so that you barely had time to register one hit before the next was coming. He would ocassionally give your clit a little touch, circle it once or twice before focusing back on your lips and your hole. He explained he wasn’t ready for you to cum just yet, but you were okay with that. You only wanted to do what he wanted you to do. So you gratefully accepted the spanks and his fingers, moaning and whining and whimpering in turns, depending on which sensation he gave you at any one time. After some time, Roger was ferociously hard. You’d long been wet enough to leak over his hand and were stifling little sobs in the blankets on the bed from the mixture of pain and pleasure.   You whined when he pulled his fingers free but, when you turned to try and find where he’d gone, were gratified to see him removing his pants properly.   “How do you feel Doll?”  “Soooooooooooooooo horny.”  Roger chuckled as he kicked his pants off his ankles, “not too sore?”  You shook your head, “Cock? Now?”  “So you want me to fuck you?”  “Pleeease Sir.”  “And which hole should I fuck?”  “Ummm....all of them?”  “Not sure I can manage that,” he laughed, “But I don’t think I can resist this slutty, drippy cunt. It’s so wet, just begging to be fucked.”  You whimpered as he notched his tip at your entrance and began begging for him.   “There you go,” he grunted as he slid inside, his words almost drowned by your moan, “Tell Mr Camera how much you love this.”  You turned your head to the camera and beamed, “I love Sir’s cock fucking me so so so so much.” 

[akaessi]

if I have to read another horror short story or something horror related about a fucking nisse/tomte, I’m gonna scream

Pick something else!! It’s boring! It’s contrived! And it doesn’t make sense!!

[themuseoftheviolets]

After having spent half a lifetime reciting spells and transforming one thing into another with a flick of her wand, Mary supposes she should not be surprised by what can exist right in front of her eyes anymore. Still, the sight of her girlfriend standing in the doorway six months after Mary had buried her had caused her to freeze in place and wonder if she was hallucinating from the lack of sleep.

the beginning of an emmary one shot based on 'cassandra after' by julia armfield

[simpystarrr]

My brain wants me to write a Samiya x SCP-049 fanfic called 'Love is the Best Medicine'

Help me

[deus-ex-mona]

Even Our Private Lives Are Great Too!: Chapter 1

i gave up on the title (true story)

next part (chapter 2)

Yujiro and Aizo, namely the members of the idol unit LIPxLIP, would hang out with the members of Full Throttle4, a dance-vocal unit, in private.

One day, upon YUI’s suggestion of “Let’s get some ramen together!”, several of them met up and…

Yujiro: (This is… where we’re supposed to meet up, right?)

Yujiro looked around at his surroundings, to find Aizo and IV standing together a short distance ahead of him.

Yujiro: Good morning, IV.

IV: Yeah. Good morning, Yujiro.

Aizo: Oh, you’re finally here, Yujiro.

Yujiro: “Finally”...? But it’s not like I’m late or anything, right?

Yujiro: Thank you for… inviting us out for ramen today.

Yujiro: So then… where’s YUI?

IV: He’s not here yet. Seriously, he’s so…

Everything started back when YUI and Aizo went out to eat super spicy tanmen together. Aizo had a hard time with handling the terribly hot spice levels of the tanmen, and, as Yujiro had been unable to make it, IV had to be called in his stead. 

As they seemed to be meeting up for normal ramen that day, Yujiro felt safe enough to tag along with them.

Aizo: I had a pretty rough time last time. Isn’t YUI’s spice tolerance way too high?

IV: You may be right about that… I heard that you were on the verge of fainting, Aizo.

Yujiro: I can’t believe that… you almost fainted because of spice.

Aizo: You idiot! Only those who have eaten it would be able to understand! That thing wasn’t on, like, regular levels of spice or anything!

Aizo: It was so spicy that it burned to extremes! It wiped out half of my memory, for reals.

Yujiro: You’re exaggerating.

Aizo: Am not! I’m telling the truth here!

IV: Haha, sorry, sorry. I did tell him not to take it too far, though.

IV: As a form of apology for that, we’ll be going for normal ramen today. So there’s no need to be on high alert, okay?

Yujiro: Thank you very much. But it’s kinda unexpected for you to accompany us for it, IV.

IV: Haha, well, I guess so.

Yujiro: (IV sure is a man of many mysteries… I wonder what he’s like in his private life.)

Yujiro: (YUI probably remains the same throughout, in both his private and public lives, but I can’t picture what IV is like in private at all…)

Yujiro: (I’m curious… about what kind of guy he really is.)

Yujiro reasoned that he would be able to learn something that he could apply in his future activities, if he could just catch a glimpse of IV’s true self. The reason why he had even decided to tag along that day had been to take advantage of this golden opportunity to find out more about FT4, after all.

Yujiro: (Alright…! I’ll be sure to uncover… the reasons behind their amazing performances today…!)

Yujiro cast a glance at Aizo, to see him grinning brightly, as though he was merely looking forward to the ramen that they were about to have.

Yujiro: (He’s so… oblivious… I’m so envious of his carefree personality.)

Looking away from Aizo in exasperation, Yujiro caught sight of a person making his way towards them from a distance.

YUI: Hey guys! Sorry for the wait!

IV: YUI… You’re late.

YUI: Ahaha. Sorry, sorry. I was so excited that I couldn’t fall asleep last night, yannow~?

IV: Just like a kid on the night before a field trip, no?

YUI: I’m not some brat! But, well, I guess I kinda felt like one though!

YUI: Oh right, thanks for coming today, Aizo and Yujiro!

Yujiro: No, rather, the pleasure is all mine. Thank you very much.

Aizo: We’ll be in your care for the day.

YUI: Yeah! Let’s head straight off then!

YUI: …IV, is it really okay for you to eat ramen, though?

IV: Yeah. I’ll be fine for today at least. I’ll tag along.

YUI: Awwright!

YUI: To be honest, I’m really happy that you’re coming along to get ramen, IV! But don’t overdo it, okay?!

Yujiro: (“Overdo it”...? Is IV trying to maintain his figure or something? As expected of Mr. Stoic over here—.)

[ohimsummer]

I start posting satoru drabbles but they’re titled like elementary school books

“Satoru and the dirty socks” “Satoru and the first kiss” I’m very tempted

[sanderscat]

I HATE SHOUNEN JUMP SO MUCH