#you filthy animal

[promisesbutnevertokeep]

merry christmas bitches.

I’m gonna go sleep now because it’s midnight.

[cherry-pop-elf]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY FAVORITE HEDGEHOG! @chemzee

[brodiedoesthings]

[itsalwayschristmastime]

[charliemwrites]

Part 2 of Neighbor!Johnny!

(Feeling a bit ✨naughty✨ this Christmas Eve so… here.)

After the fight with Ryan, you try to keep your distance from Johnny — keep the peace and all that. The more you think about the accusations your husband made… the more that guilty pit in your stomach grows.

It’s all been platonic, at least on your end. Sure, you let Johnny get away with a bit more than the average stranger, but he’s a good friend! Nothing you wouldn’t let one of your other friends do. (Even if you would find the lingering touches and general disregard for personal space a little strange from someone else.)

Sure, you have a suspicion every now and then that Johnny has more than platonic feelings for you… but they’re fleeting. Every time you worry that he’s about to cross a line, he always draws away from it. Evens out his smile, break his gaze, drops his hand. You’re close, that’s all.

But… if it’s bothering your husband. Well, you’re obligated to take that into account, aren’t you?

Even if you ache, missing your friend. Missing his silly little jokes, his cheeky grin. Miss his company while you do laundry, a helping hand in the yard, even just someone to chat with over podcasts and tv shows.

Hell, you miss hugs. Ryan’s never been big on… affection. Especially not in public.

(Barely in the house, either, really. You’ve tried talking to him about it. He swears he loves you, he just doesn’t show affection that way. You struggle to figure out why that’s so with you when he has no problem hugging his mother, sister, hell, even his secretary.

Actually… you struggle to figure out how he shows you affection. So you’ve stopped trying to figure it out at.)

But Johnny. Oh, Johnny is just so sweet to you. A hug when he greets you, a hug before he leaves. A kiss to your cheek when you hand him a drink or a snack. A hand on your hip when he leans past you to get things from high shelves. Nudges to your thighs during good parts of shows.

You miss it. Him. The friendship you’ve built in your too-quiet home, where the other neighbors seem to like your husband so much more than you.

“What’s goin’ on, hen?” Johnny asks one morning. You’ve been keeping coffee dates meetups on the porch. Which is almost worse, because it’s cold and you find yourself cuddling up to the heat he exudes like a furnace. “Hardly seen you in a month; miss my best girl.”

“Sorry, Johnny,” you sigh, rubbing at your face. Ryan’s been working late most days this week, comes in so late and wakes you up. “Just… Ryan, ya know.”

His jaw tightens, eyes flashing dangerously. You’re reminded suddenly, inexplicably, of just what Johnny does for a living. How often you’ve seen him just back home with blood still buried in his nail beds.

“Dinnae, hen,” he replies. “What about ‘im?”

You fidget, eyes on your half-empty mug. It feels wrong, admitting relationship quibbles to someone outside of family. You used to have a policy that marriage matters should stay within the marriage. But… it’s hard when it feels like you’re the only one working on the marriage. It’s a lot of work to do alone.

“He just… he doesn’t think it’s proper,” you admit, “how… how often you’re over. How close we are.”

“That so?”

You hunch your shoulders, feeling wrong. Feeling guilty for a whole new reason; for disappointing Johnny.

“Look at me, bonnie?”

He has to tip your chin up with his hand to get you to meet his eyes. His expression is softer than you expect.

“What about you, eh?”

“Me…?” You blink, peering up at him through your lashes.

“Yer feelings are all I care about, hen.”

“Johnny,” you sigh, trying to reprimand, but sound more pleading instead. He shakes your head a bit, gently; his own reprimand.

“Answer me, bonnie.”

“I like spending time with you,” you whisper.

The corners of his mouth twitch up as he hums.

“‘Course ye do,” he hums, “‘n I like spendin’ time with you. It’s not fair of ‘im, is it?”

You blink, brows pulling together in confusion. Johnny continues, the thumb on your chin gently stroking.

“Not fair of ‘im to keep you all cooped up here, come home so late, neglect ye when he is around,” he coos. “And now he’s tellin’ you to keep away from your best friend.”

He tsks, that dangerous glint in his eyes again.

“Wastin’ his tongue for bullshite when he should be usin’ it to lick your pretty pussy.”

Your mouth drops open, shock and heat flooding you hotly. “Johnny!” You gasp, scandalized.

He finally cracks a grin again. “Tell me I’m wrong, bonnie, ‘m not! When’s the last time he worked you over the way you deserve, huh? When’s the last time he made you squirt all over your sheets?”

You shove at him and then cover your burning face, trying not to squirm. Can’t answer because it would be proving him right and you don’t want to encourage his scandalous teasing.

“Bet he’d try to make you change ‘em even if he did,” Johnny grumbles, shaking his head. “Disgraceful. You ought to be put to sleep on a nice, thick cock.”

Whack!

“Oi! What was that fer?!”

“You’re being a creep, Johnny!” Your stern tone in undercut by your embarrassed laughter. “Quit talking about my shitty sex life.”

“So it is shitty!”

“Shut up!”

When a discreet box shows up at your door two days later, you know exactly who it’s from.

…that doesn’t stop you from using the (shockingly detailed and realistic) dildo inside the packaging.

[iswerebyit]

Bellow and bark as he may, perhaps even potently enough to bring her bangs to rock, Nat did not budge an inch. In fact, there was instead an odd sense of excitement that awoke from within the instant she heard something a little more monstrous try to claw its way out. Her smirk crooked a measure more.

"That's hot."

(Note: she didn't actually have blood on her face, but emotionally, it was surely there.)

Deviously, her fingers slithered around the wrist of a fidgeting hand, wrangling him into submission. In her grasp, its quivering musculature - minute as it was - was perceived. She brought it between them both, suspense marked by a sharp incline.

"But I have a better idea, if you give me a hand..." The line was accompanied by a wink.

With his meek fearsome little paw held firmly... Also, matching nail polish? Hella cute. Good taste in color. 🖤 ... She casually withdrew her free arm, reaching into a large pocket lining her leather-bound jacket. Said suspense only felt to grow. What was she doing?

From it, she retrieved a small, neatly wrapped... present.

🎁 🫴

Orienting his shaking hand appropriately, palm up and open - or as open as it could be through all the tension - it was placed neatly in his possession. It jittered and jostled, but it refused to fall nevertheless!

Suddenly, just like that, the predator was gone - out of sight, at least, but not out of mind. With lips now painted by a darling, yet off-putting grin, she let out a chuckle.

"Happy holidays, bud!"

kabedon

:: KABEDON :: accepting

He'd done a lot of chasing in his centuries of existence-- an apex predator who left no life unstolen, who had laid waste to cities, kingdoms, and even the netherrealms themselves.

So… was this, like, karma or something?

It made no sense-- the way this woman grinned at him like he was food. It made even less sense how she made him feel like he was food! No matter how hard he pressed against the wall behind him, it refused to oblige and swallow him whole.

"Don't you know who I am, girl!?" he barked, desperation sharpening his voice as he clawed at the stone for some escape, only managing to chip his nail polish. "I'm Kzinssie! KZINSSIE OF THE SEVEN HEROES!"

His voice cracked and then doubled over, slipping into the distorted, resonant tones of his true form, as though that might grant him the intimidation he so desperately needed. As though that might deter this leather-clad madwoman whose eyes burned with untamed glee.

"I'll SUCK THE VERY LIFE FROM YOUR VEINS!!!" he roared, his voice reverberating with a hollow, echoing menace. A thunderous bark lacking any bite, particularly when he was still scrabbling at the wall, his nails skittering uselessly as he tried-- and failed-- to scale it.

[sukunas-play-thing]

This photo of Sabo isn't talked about enough

Like, the black leather pants, the white tank top, showing off his scandalous tits and collar bones, the leather jacket. The smirk.

Mmm 🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣 fanning myself like a woman sweatin in church.

~~~~~~~

It's Like. Seeing a woman's ankles for the first time. Clutching my pearls. I'm pregnant now.

Oi Vei

🎵feels like the very first time🎵

🎶it feels like the very first time🎶

I'm done rambling.......................

Or am I?please don't read my tags

[arliganzey]

[flowerysubmissive]

Hey Darlings~<3! I’m not entirely back yet, but I will be soon! I hope you all are enjoying the Holidays, I know I am! 🤭💓🎄

Santa can’t be the only one giving out gifts, and I’ve been a very good girl this year! So spoil me a bit won’t ya? 💋: https://cash.app/$LilyInk

https://venmo.com/u/Liliana-Amanita

[lordoflightning]

gotouge was rly like, “here’s a nice kid!! now lets put him through the horrors”

[dipperscavern]

cregan stark NOT found oiled up naked angry and suspended underneath my christmas tree today. pissed as hell. merry fucking christmas i guess

[jedipoodoo]

Ruthlessness (Sergeant Hunter x fem!Reader)

"After everything you've done...how will you sleep at night?"

"Next to my wife."

Notes: Feral Hunter, above-average bloodshed and violence. Reader is implied to be a Jedi but it's never explicitly stated, inspired by that line from Epic: The Vengeance Saga.

Hunter tore through the base. He could smell your fear and terror, and he knew you were nearby. He didn't even need Tech's directions.

This is what he was made for.

He hadn't slept since he'd heard you'd been captured, and he wouldn't rest until you were safe in his arms.

He quickly dispatched the two TK Troopers at the door with blaster and knife. Before the first body could hit the floor, he snatched the key card from their belt. He could hear your heartbeat just beyond the door, sluggish and slow, along with one other heartbeat and the deadly hum of an interrogation droid.

The moment the door opened, Hunter found his target, launching his vibroblade at the droid.

The blaster shot took him by surprise. Hunter managed to dodge so that it grazed him just below the ribs, but it burned. Every nerve in his body screamed out in pain,but he had to keep moving forward Hunter dropped to his knee, holding his wound, and looked up at the blaster pointed at his face.

"Doctor Hemlock warned me you'd come after her," the Imperial officer said, his voice low and lethal. He sounded just like Hemlock and Rampart, a controlled calm with a storm seething beneath the surface.

Hunter had no use for control. Not when he saw you hanging limp in the officer's arm like the damsel in distress in some cheap holo novel.

"Let her go, and I might let you live." Hunter growled, pushing himself to his feet.

The blaster followed his every move, and the officer chuckled as if he hadn't just been threatened.

"That's not an option here. She's a traitor, as are you."

Hunter took a step forward, only to stumble against a table littered with surgical tools. The officer kept the blaster trained on him, smart man.

But not smart enough.

"You're a stubborn one, aren't you?" The officer chuckled, "You clones just don't know when to quit."

"Hun'red percent success rate," Hunter bragged through gritted teeth, forcing his legs to support him.

"And vain too," the officer scoffed.

Hunter turned his body just enough that the officer couldn't see him grab the scalpel, still trying to make his way to you. Your heartbeat was growing slower with each passing second. He had to get you out of here.

"And what do you call your Emperor, then? An empire that'll last a thousand years? The Republic's been around longer than that."

"The Republic is gone!" The officer snapped, "That is the difference between the Galactic Empire and your precious Republic!" He jabbed the barrel of his blaster against Hunter's chestplate, sealing his doom.

Hunter moved too fast for anyone but Crosshair to have really noticed. The scalpel met its target in the vein of the officer's wrist, and he dropped the blaster with a scream. Hunter grabbed the wound and twisted it, forcing the officer to drop your body. Hunter only took his eyes off the officer to make sure you were safe, but he recovered quickly. He reached for the blaster with his non-dominant hand, and Hunter kicked it out of reach. The officer went for Hunter's wound, digging his hand into the wound. The air was ripped from Hunter's lungs as he tried to focus his vision. He couldn't let you die here, not as a trophy for some fanatic Imperial sycophant.

He still gripped the scalpel in his hand, and as the officer grinned sadistically Hunter drew it across his face. Blood splattered everywhere, and the officer reeled back with his face in his hands. Hunter didn't let him recover. He stomped his booted foot on the officer's shin, shattering his bones. The officer writhed on the floor as he tried to crawl away, dark blood from his face and wrist staining his gray uniform and slicking the tile floor.

Hunter held his side and adjusted his hold on the scalpel for a firmer grip, standing above the insignificant worm of a sentient that had dared to lay a hand on his Cyare.

"You clones-" the officer spat, coughing on his own blood.

"Scraping by, betraying the glory of the Empire just to live hand to mouth..."

"How how do you live with yourself?

"How do you sleep at night?"

Hunter grabbed onto the officers hair, yanking his head back so that the last thing he ever saw was the clone who would kill him.

"Next to my wife."

He drove the scalpel into the monster's chest, over, and over, and over again, until he heard the silence of its heart.

Hunter heaved a deep breath, tasting the coppery tang of blood at the back of his throat. It took a moment, but Hunter knew it wasn't his own.

A shuddering breath echoed through the room, and Hunter turned to you, crouching in between you and the officer so that you wouldn't have to see him as you woke up.

"Cyare? Cyare, can you hear me?" He called your name, cradling your head in his lap.

You mumbled something unintelligible, eyelids twitching.

"Hun'er?"

"Easy, easy Cyare, you're safe. It's over," He said. He gently pressed his fingers to the spot below your jaw where he could feel your heartbeat. It was delicate, like the flutter of a bird's wing, but it was there all the same. He needed to get you to the ship.

Hunter lifted you into his arms and though you raised your arms to hang onto his neck, they weighed as much as a starcruiser.

"I've got you," He whispered, "You're gonna be alright."

Your knee hit the blaster wound in his side, and he winced.

"You're hurt," You gasped, still drugged but now worried about him.

He shook his head and straightened his shoulders, "Don't worry about me. You're safe now. That's all that matters."

@photogirl894 @meadow-of-daisies-and-lavender @emperor-palpaminty @clonethirstingisreal (I just thought y'all would enjoy ✌️)

[mrmeepsmadmind]

rewatching this over and over again.. mainly bcs tarn makes soundwave into a manlet but also bcs it's hilarious

[talesfrommedinastation]

Is Fandom Friday a thing?

Everyone's (rightfully) going ga-ga over Hunter and Wrecker getting the civvies hot treatment in the previews of the five-part Bad Batch comics that's coming out.

Someone on Discord mentioned that it would be great if Tech could be shown in civvies too...so I figured why not?

(I miiiiiiight do Crosshair too - but it's the end of the semester, and I've got NSF reviews, baking, gift-making, and various other Holiday nonsense to deal with! Can't promise)

The suggesters be all: @arctrooper69 @totallyunidentified @eyecandyeoz @deezlees @autistic-artistech

[carrymelikeimcute]

[grilledpook]

merry christmas, ive genderbent billy lenz. her name is bernadette "benni" lenz, and she's gonna beat the shit out of some frat bros