#Thinking thots today

[pennyserenade]

more headcanons about jonathan crane:

he has no interest in a breeding kink unless it’s in direct relation to fear. being someone’s father is not interesting to him. he thinks there’s better ways to show you possess someone than that

he’s a lingerie guy—intricate, lacy designs and high heels and those bras that push your tits up to your chin. he likes it especially when you wrap your body in something modest and prim too, but doesn’t especially care how you dress enough to tell you that

he kinda likes being made jealous. though he finds it on the whole to be an unproductive emotion, he takes joy in experimenting on those fools who dare flirt with you, and he finds fucking you more…satisfying when he feels you’ve slighted him in some way. he doesn’t want to be cheated on, though. you’ll die.

he eats pussy better than any person could account for, given the self-interest he displays on any given day. though his attitude screams selfish lover, he’s actually rather attentive. not entirely out of sentiment, of course, but more self interest. eating pussy is a great way to get someone to trust you and when someone trusts you, they’re malleable. he doesn’t always do it to bend and shape, though. you’ve just got to exercise caution and have uncertainty, which he likes.

he’s not exactly the reigning champion of women’s rights, but he likes a woman with a strong, clever brain. a fool’s no good to him, as they come dime a dozen. if he wanted that, he’d stay in a lab and experiment on rats. the more intelligent you are, the better. he likes challenges and puzzles and the thrill of breaking a good mind apart.

he’ll let you experiment on him, but it’s not necessarily a complete relinquishment of his power when he does. it’s because he wants to know the limits of his own body and what fear does to him. for example, because he has no interest in a breeding kink or children, he’ll bite when you threaten to make him a father. it makes him sweat. same as when you choke him to the point of almost blacking out. he doesn’t particularly like that, but he’ll do anything for a good experiment. the only stipulation is that you must tell him you’re going to do something before you start having sex. you don’t have to tell him what, but he must be informed that something is going to happen

he likes when you’re fully naked and he’s fully dressed for obvious power reasons but also because he enjoys when you make a mess of his suits. it isn’t something he thought he’d enjoy, being as cleanly and as clinical as he is, but he’s only a man and he knows sexual desire has little to do with reason or logic.

he fucking loves period sex. you’re more wet and warm, and he finds the sight of red on his cock to be brilliant. better yet, he loves when you both make a terrible fucking mess of it. if it looks like someone was murdered when you’re finished, he’s definitely had a good orgasm and so have you—probably many times

he’s for corporal punishment in the bedroom and a bright red ass is a pretty sight to him

[becca-e-barnes]

“Daydreams” by We Three has me thinking the most delightful thoughts about that lovely, big, strong man letting his girl take care of him and I can’t clear my head.

Just the thought of Bucky losing it slightly when you’re on top, groaning into the crook of your neck. The glide of his cock into your soft, slick heat is mind numbingly wonderful for both of you but he’s really showing it.

His fingertips are digging into your thighs, trying to keep you close, desperate for you to either slow down or speed up but he’s not entirely sure what he needs more.

“You like that?” You tease, kissing his forehead and basking in a moan from him that verges on pathetic.

What a silly fucking question. He’s not sure he’s ever liked anything more. He’s getting a chance to appreciate the way you feel around him without needing to do anything more than just sit there and enjoy you.

“Love it. Love how you feel.” He’s a little lost as his hands stray up your body to hold and squeeze your breasts.

“Good.” You hum before his mouth latches on to one of your nipples, teasing the sensitive bud with his teeth and tongue.

He’s so beautiful like this. Your fingernails scratch soothingly against his scalp, encouraging to keep up his good work while you continue to let your body rise and fall on his cock.

“Fuck.” He groans, not releasing his mouth from your breast. He wants this to last forever but he’s entirely conscious it’s not going to.

“Don’t you dare.” You warn, pausing your methodical grind, giving him a second to make sure he doesn’t finish too quickly. You reach over, pulling out a pair of fluffy handcuffs you’d tucked behind a pillow earlier. “We haven’t even got to the really fun part yet.”

[reveluving]

wanting more ; miguel o'hara x reader

a/n: I did it!! Heavily debated on posting this or the fluff I had in mind but this plagued my mind like crazy. S/O TO MY PRECIOUS @kirbyskisses-main FOR HELPING ME WITH THE SPANISH BIT. I wouldn't dare making this without their help 🤧💗

warnings: implied s~mut (minors DNI!), possessive!Miguel, dirty talking, one (1) spank

» fancy reading something new? check out my m.list!

Melting at the thought of Miguel holding you by the waist, your back against his chest as you both face the wide bedroom mirror. He has his face in your neck.

Your intoxicating scent, a whiff like no other, giving him an adrenaline rush thanks to his advanced sense of smell.

"Tú eres preciosa." He cooed, peppering kisses on your shoulder.

You want to shy away, but his groans would turn into growls the second he knows you're even thinking about looking away from this wonderful sight of debauchery.

Away from his intense red eyes as he expressed his insatiable hunger for you.

The best thing you could do was look back through half-lidded eyes.

He wants you to look at him in the eye, watch him savour your body but he'll let you off the hook.

For now.

It's hard to believe you were the villainess who never once failed instilling fear in the hearts of citizens, now a part of the Spider Society and one of the few members without Spider powers.

Yet, here you were, nothing more than a sweet whimpering mess in the arms of what had to be the most hard-bitten head of the society, now letting you know how much he loves you, how much he yearns for you...

How much he needs you.

His white sweater looked enormous on you, the turtleneck only looked like a wide collar, letting Miguel have a peek of what was underneath—what was essentially his.

The self-consciousness you have over your body be damned, if your legs are out, he is done for. It is on sight.

"Show me," He groaned in your ear, nipping and lightly scraping your neck with his fangs, "Show me what's mine."

You had a feeling of what he was referring to and reached for the collar, pulling them down to your cleavage with a shaky hand and revealing the hickies and lovebites he had left this morning.

Just before he let you leave for a mission.

He hummed in approval, raising one of his hands to your collarbone to trace the marks he unabashedly left on you. He would've done more, he would've killed for a couple more minutes just to feel your tight hole milking his cock or even clenching on his thick fingers, but no.

Duty had to call him.

But it didn't matter, not anymore, not when you were right here at his mercy. His other hand ran up your side slowly, squeezing the flesh of your thighs before sliding the hem of his sweater up over your breasts.

"I want you leave this sweater on when you ride my cock, cariño," He rasped, his voice going deeper than you thought was possible before drawing a whine out of you as he bucked his hips against your ass, "I want you to hold it up, let me watch your tits bounce everytime time your force me in."

You shuddered at the very though of his girth.

The hand he had tracing your collarbone suddenly shot up to hold your chin, squeezing your cheeks a little as he continued. You could see the slight upturn of his lips as you arched your back.

"And if you ever let it drop, even just a little over your nipples," There was a dangerous lilt in his tone, only to draw out a high-pitched scream as he suddenly slapped your left ass cheek. The unmistakable 'smack!' echoing off the walls of your bedroom. He chuckled.

"Well, you'll see."

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

[dickpuncher420]

i read the phrase “i access my femininity through my masculinity” once (in the context of butchness) and it’s stuck w me ever since. now that i feel like i’ve grown into myself as a butch i find myself able to enjoy more stereotypically “feminine” things that i tended to reject when i was younger and still figuring myself out. things like makeup, jewelry, nail polish, colourful clothes, cutesy aesthetics, heels…they no longer feel stifling to me. my relationship to them has changed because i no longer feel like i’m obligated to perform femininity. rather, i can pick and choose which parts of it enjoy, and simply leave the rest behind. and i’m secure enough in my identity as a masculine person to know that enjoying these things doesn’t detract from my masculinity—in fact, i can use them to construct and further my own masculinity in a way that feels genuine to who i am.

[varpusvaras]

Seventeen has always hated waking up after something has happened.

It doesn't matter what it had been. Not if it had been Seventeen getting his bones reset or if he had been in bacta for weeks on end. It doesn't matter. Waking up from anything that has even remotely something to do with his body being unwell in any capacity has always been, and still is, one of the things he really, truly hates.

It always includes feeling heavy, tired and confused. Even if the injury had not been on his head, whatever medicine he had been pumped full would do the trick of making his memory spotty and his thoughts slow. Even if he had been asleep for hours, days or weeks, he would still always feel like he had not rested ever in his entire life. He would always feel weak, his body having seemingly forgotten how to move or how to regulate his temperature, as he would always be trembling and shivering.

He feels all of those now too. The way his eyelids feel too heavy to open in the first place. The way some stray draught makes his entire body feel like it's freezing. The way none of his limbs or even his fingers want to do what he wants them to do. The way his head feels like it has been stuffed full of something soft to insulate any and every cavity there is on the inside of his skull.

The way he has no idea what has even happened.

Still, he forces his eyes to open and to stay open. Seventeen stares at the ceiling and countes to ten. It's not the ceiling of any of the rooms in his house. He countes to twenty. No, it looks a lot like all the ceilings in every single medbay he has ever been in. Safe to assume that he's not home, then.

He counts to thirty, and then forces his head to turn.

Arell is sitting there, right beside the bed Seventeen is laying on. He is sleeping, with his arms crossed and a deep furrow on his face.

Flashes start to come back to Seventeen then, as he watches Arell sleep there on a hard medbay chair. Flashes of the floor. How he had ended up there in the first place. Of his legs just giving up from underneath him. Of how he had been unable to move, unable to get up, because his whole body had turned into one single point of scorching pain.

Flashes of him being peeled off from the floor, of the backseat of the speeder. Of- Seventeen pauses.

Flashes of him thinking why Arell is there, when he shouldn't have been home from work yet. Of his commlink ringing, ringing, ringin and ringing, somewhere that had been unreachable for Seventeen as he had laid on the floor, paralyzed by the pain.

Seventeen stares at Arell, sleeping on the uncomfortable medbay chair, right next to Seventeen's bed, and the thought that Arell had come home after Seventeen had not picked up, just to make sure that he is okay enters his brain like a searing wound.

Something slams against the inside of Seventeen's chest. He isn't sure if it was actually there or if he is just imagining it.

He doesn't have the time to think about it. He is too busy trying to make his sluggish mind to comprehend the thought Arell had come for him, and that for some reason, Seventeen likes that thought.

There's another slam. No, Seventeen is definitely feeling it.

His heart had not slammed itself against his insides even when there had been a lightsaber cutting through his body. Not like this.

Seventeen stares at Arell, sleeping on the uncomfortable medbay chair, right next to Seventeen's bed, and he wonders how the hell he has gotten here.

Seventeen sighs, too tired to put any of his frustrations to it yet.

Damn it.

[steve-s-slut]

The sluttiest lil waist of them all

[jrueships]

im going into my new work tomorrow, first time ever😐

[boxwinebaddie]

this is so niche and sorry for weebing on main but

i think a style soul eater fanfic would EAT

[kuroosdarling]

kuroo loves kissing you but during your make out sessions he loves pulling away for a second. just so he can look at you softly, an easy smile stretching across his face. he’ll always brush his thumb against your swollen lips before trailing it across your cheek all the way down to your neck. his fingers lightly wrap around it, pulling you in for a searing kiss that almost gives you whiplash.

[inconmess]

It is currently 4:30 am and I am listening and crying to Orym and FCG's playlist instead of studying for the exam comin up at 10. Help.

ANd in a funny turn of events, I just posted a post about Orym and grieving and Now I am studying the five stages of death -_- Sleep, please consume me and wake me up in time for exam.

[becca-e-barnes]

I reallyyyy want to talk about how much fun it would be to jerk a really submissive Bucky off with a pair of soaked panties 🙈

I feel like submissive Bucky is so vocal too and I love that thought. He trusts you completely with his body and he's not ashamed to make as much noise as he wants to.

He knows what his little whines and moans do to you. You get off on his desperation and he absolutely knows it. You can't help but melt when he looks up at you from his knees, his eyes wide and expectant, whispering "please, mommy" when all he wants is permission to kiss from your ankle to your knee.

He's learned that being well mannered is the only way to get what he wants so you don't mind rewarding his good behaviour. His plump lips begin to trail eagerly from the ankle strap of your heel, up the side of your calf until he reaches the joint at your knee. Your fingers tangle in his hair, warning him not to go any further and the groan he elicits is heavenly.

"Please let me kiss you." He practically sounds like he's panting. Frustration has settled into his features, his eyes trained on the cherry red lace that shields your sex from his hungry gaze.

He knows you're already wet and he knows that if he's just able to kiss a little bit higher, your self control might waver enough that you'll allow him to lap up your arousal and that's really all he's dreaming of.

"You're so selfless, aren't you?" Your sarcasm isn't lost on him. He wants to taste you because he wants to taste you, not so much for your pleasure. "No, let's try something different."

You slip your panties down your legs but he's smart enough to know you aren't going to give him exactly what he wants.

You kneel down beside him, lining your hand with the slick lace before wrapping your fingers around his stiff cock that's been begging for attention for far too long now.

"O-oh my God." The first stroke of your hand makes him crumble. Despite being slick, the lace offers so much friction and he's far too sensitive for that.

Your hand pumps quickly, watching his face while he begins to slip. "Good boy, that's it. Take it. Fuck, you're so pretty, do you know that? You're doing so well for me."

" 's too much. Please. Don't stop." His head falls forwards onto your shoulder, groaning pathetically into the crook of your neck.

"Do you want to cum, sweetheart? Are you going to be a filthy slut and cum in my panties? Do you even realise how fucked up that is?" Your soft voice makes him melt up until your hand on his cock speeds up.

"Y-yes. Oh God yes, please let me cum." He didn't think it'd be this easy but when you give him permission, he knows to take the opportunity while he's getting it.

In just a few more minutes, his thighs are trembling as he shoots a thick load into the already saturated lace lining your hand. The release of each gush of his seed feels more euphoric than the last and he's whining pathetically, up until he's fucked himself empty into your fist.

"Good boy." You whisper, kissing his damp forehead while he catches his breath. "I'm so proud of you."

You unfold the lace, admiring just how much of his cum he's managed to splatter over just your underwear. "Now. I want you to put these on and wait in the bedroom."

[sprinklersart]

Old clown movie sketches that never got to far

[howdidthisevenhappenanyway]

*taps microphone* so i’d just like to talk about all the little kids in coruscant who would absolutely be out of their mind with love and awe for the corrie guard, and their fire engine red painted armour

these kids

these kids would wait at their windows to watch them drive past their window on a scheduled patrol. they’d be so thrilled to see them in the market. or when Fox is standing next to Palpatine in the press in his extra red paint

their parent will be like ‘want to talk to them?’ and the kids will get all shy.

they might even draw pictures of them to give to them

because no matter what the adults think, abiut flesh droids or military police being given more and more responsibility (that theybwould see as power) as the war went on, but little kids know what’s up. they know how cool garbage men are, and fire men (with the shiny red paint), and other civil servants that adults don’t think are awesome but kids know

and you know, you just know that Sergeant Hound, with his cute mastiff and awesome bucket paint would be the absolute pinnacle of coolness to an eight year old coruscanti child

[angellurgy2]

baaaaaarf or whatever

[malhare-archive]

Inside of me are two wolves, one wants to study and dissect evil Fallout characters and talk about how their role in the story plays into the overarching themes and the other one is like "SADISTIC BIG MAN AWOOGA"

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

I was super inspired yesterday and wrote ALL of the end of the UD au. Unfortunately, like three or four parts that come Before All That remain unwritten! Lol