#and I’m so fucking drunk

[freckleslikestars]

We talk about how flirty Mulder is in season one, but we don’t ever talk about how culpable Scully is.

[kurooh]

i’m drooling over hawks so bad its not funny.

god just imagine him pressing you into the bed, fucking you so hard your legs tremble in his grip as he holds them open. he’s got a small gold chain on his neck that bounces with his thrusts, sparkles when it catches some of the morning sunlight through the curtains.

the way his large hands move across your skin, his right hand moving to grab at the slight softness at your hips. and he’s so vocal, making the most gorgeous sounds as he pounds you into the bed.

you rub your clit furiously, back arching off the bed, jaw dropping. “baby, fuckin’ cum for me, please.” he sounds so unbelievably desperate, hands alternating so he can spread your legs impossibly wider. his hips keep their strong pace, faltering only when you start to clench down around him.

his wings beat wildly behind him, the curtains holding onto their rods for dear life. “oh, fuuuck,” he groans deeply, “you feel so good, dove. so tight.”

“keigo, i’m gonna cum,” you whine loudly, pussy fluttering on his cock as your head falls back. “wan’ you to cum with me!”

“of course, dove, i’m so close—” he gasps, chest heaving, hips thrusting with much less control than before. keigo’s deep inside you, his body burning with the need to cum, the need to fill you up. the sound of his wings grows louder, the feathers cutting through the air as though it were butter.

you let out a loud, lengthy moan as your orgasm hits you and you clench down on his cock. heat sparks through you as your hole spasms uncontrollably.

“ohhh, i’m cumming baby—” keigo’s head falls back and his eyes squeeze shut, his whole body going still as he cums deep inside you. his wings have stilled completely too, spread out behind him majestically.

when he finishes riding out his high with a few shallow thrusts, he leans forward to lift you up and against him, hugging you tightly and kissing your neck. he turns to lay on his back, his wings finally at rest.

[ao3-crack]

(x)

[sendpseuds]

Prompt: Anakin plays Fuck, Marry, Kill with the Clones or someone else when his Master comes in.

“Fuck, marry, kill: Ventress, Dooku, Greivous.”

“Oh screw you,” Rex groans, his head falling back, eyes squeezed shut like he can erase the question from his mind if he tries hard enough, “That’s horrible.”

“That is the point of the game, Captain.”

Anakin and the handful of clones around the table chuckle mischievously at the horrified look of obvious annoyance on Rex’s face, prodding him with playful elbows and a teasing stream of “Come on, who’s it gonna be? You have to answer!”

Laughter flows easily tonight, still a few days travel away from their next engagement, enjoying the calm comfort of companionship and Waxer’s homebrew [well, Anakin is not entirely certain it could reasonably be described as enjoyable but it certainly is potent.]

“Kill Greivous,” Rex says with an almost sober certainty, “That spider freak gives me the creeps.”

There’s a general hum of agreement around the table before Rex continues.

“I guess marry Dooku? Hope the old man croaks immediately after the wedding?”

“So you’re fucking the witch?”

“Guess so,” Rex shrugs as a few other clones mutter that they wouldn’t exactly mind taking the sith assassin for a ride.

“Your turn, General” someone announces, a chorus of “Ooooo”s sounding from all around him.

“Alright,” Anakin replies coolly, folding his arms over his chest and sitting back in his chair, “Hit me with it.”

Rex hums consideringly, drawing out the prompting question of “Fuck, marry, kill,” like he’s trying to come up with the most horrifying combination possible and Anakin only narrows his gaze.

“Master Yoda—“

“You bastard,” Anakin scoffs before the grand master’s entire name has even leaves his captain's mouth.

“Master Jocasta Nu—“

“I could have you demoted, you know.”

“And—“

The word seems to stretch on forever as Rex’s eyes dart around the room, trying to decide on the final name in his torturous trilogy. Then his eyes brows shoot up, his eyes widening over Anakin’s shoulder.

“General Kenobi!”

Anakin’s heart lurches, a hot twisting in his gut at the mere suggestion that he could ever kill Obi-Wan. Then at the thought of fucking him. Marrying him.

“Okay, hold on, I need some clarification,” Anakin blurts out, the brew in his blood loosening his lips, “If you marry someone, you can fuck them whenever you want, right?”

Rex doesn’t seem to understand the question, or maybe he’s had one glass too many, his eyes glazed and face gone a bit ashen.

“Like, it doesn’t have to be a sexless marriage, does it?”

“Uh, sir— General Kenobi is—“

“Amazing? Yeah, I know. He’d be the perfect husband but if I had to wake up every morning to that man in my bed and couldn’t fuck him—“

Behind him, someone clears their throat and suddenly Anakin realizes not a single clone is looking at him.

“Well, I’m glad to hear you wouldn’t kill me.”

[1][2][3][4]

[sugadolly]

it’s so unfair how i’m never going to be able to kiss his little dimple </3

[kingofthecotas]

ivy

post-aragón, vale & pecco & the ever-present spectre of marc | ~900 words

hi hello i write things sometimes

———

Valentino doesn’t call until Monday, when the heat of anger has faded and the dust has been washed from his hair, seven hours behind and six hours spent on track—one of Marc’s tracks, irony of ironies.

(Sometimes he wonders if he can ever extricate himself from this, from them, from the noxious tendrils that have wound themselves into the sport’s neurones and synapses, an incurable infection of the central nervous system.)

Pecco almost hesitates to answer—still afraid of disappointing him, even after all this time—but his shoulder throbs when he reaches out to pick up his phone and he suddenly wants the sound of Valentino’s voice, even if it carries judgment.

“Hello?” he says, cautious.

“Are you okay?”

“Sore. Will bruise, but fine. I’ll be okay for Misano.”

Valentino hums. “Good.”

Pecco searches for something, anything, that doesn’t remind him of gravel crunching, his head snapping forwards as one hundred and fifty kilos of aluminium and rubber collided with the back of his helmet. “Sorry about your race. It was going well.”

“It was. It was fun.” He can almost see Vale waving his hand. “I have already complained to Maro. I want to make sure you are okay.”

“Fine.”

There’s a pause, silence loaded with something Pecco can’t quite identify. “And Álex?”

Ah. “Fine as well. We both got checked over.” Pecco swallows. “I, ah, spoke to him. Or—he asked to speak to me, in private, so we did. I—I am still pissed off, but it was not deliberate. I know that now.”

Valentino hums again. “But you said it.”

So this is what he really called to talk about.

“I was pissed off. Martín—”

“I know,” Valentino says, and there’s something there, not quite the disappointment Pecco feared but something like it. “Be—just be careful, Pecco, yes? If you are going to start this, be ready for where it might take you.”

“I am not starting anything.”

Again, it’s, “I know.” Then, “I know it is hard when you are hurt and angry, and there are points slipping through your fingers. But think about what you are saying.”

“Yeah.” Pecco would be more annoyed if this wasn’t coming from experience.

“Ah, maybe you do not need my advice anymore—”

“Of course I do,” Pecco interrupts, chest fluttering at the mere idea of Valentino ever becoming superfluous to him.

“Get into it with Marc all you want. He is expecting this. The team are expecting this. He will give it back to you, and somehow, he will be ready to forgive.” Valentino pauses. “Do not make his brother part of it. That—that is where there was no coming back for us, truly.”

Pecco’s breath catches, because Vale sounds—unsettled. Sad, even. “I—”

“Do you understand?”

He does. “Fucking—the week before Misano, as well. It will be messy.”

“Not too messy. Not yet.” Still fixable, is what Vale doesn’t say, but they both know anyway. “But—you can handle it. You will do better than I did.”

Quietly, Pecco thinks there couldn’t have been many worse ways to handle it all. There are certainly better ones. He can’t remember when that thought first came to him: maybe when he’d won, that first time, Aragón of all places, the king of Marc’s castle, and Marc had been—disappointed, yes, but still there with a smile and a congratulatory word. Not what Pecco had been expecting, from everything Vale had said. Maybe Vale had been wrong.

Marc has done many things to Pecco since then, but that first doubt, the first fallacy of his god, was the most earth-shattering.

“I should speak to Marc—”

“Don’t make it about him.”

“I already have.” It’s like pulling a barbed thread out through his throat, admitting that, reminding himself what he said to the cameras and microphones when he was aching and exhausted and too hot with it all to think about the consequences. “They already have, because if it is me and Álex then it is you and him.”

The silence is long this time, presses in, a storm cloud rolling over before the heavens open and lightning shatters the sky. Pecco almost stutters out an apology, except Valentino must know, because he was the one who wanted to talk about it in the first place.

When Valentino sighs, it hisses in Pecco’s ear. “It will always be about us somehow, Pecco. You will have to hold it.”

And here is what Vale did not tell them when they vowed to carry his legacy, unmistakable yellow in their young faithful hands: it would always be entwined with the ivy-choke of Marc.

Us, Valentino still says, not me and him. If he has still not managed to free himself, what hope does Pecco have?

(He knows the answer. He never will. But he can hold it, can hold the vine-twisted history alongside the bright yellow heritage.)

There’s a lot he could say. He swallows it down, sits on it all. “Are you coming on Wednesday?”

“Of course.”

“See you then. Put the weekend behind us.”

“Get ready for Misano,” Vale agrees. “One of your favourites, and you have raced there already this year. Maybe you do not even need to train, hm?” A laugh, so Pecco knows he’s only joking. So Pecco knows Valentino believes in him. “Ah, they are calling for the plane. I will speak to you soon.”

Pecco doesn’t say so you still think he is forgiving. You still think he can forgive you. He doesn’t say he’ll be in a good mood today, if you called. He closes his eyes, says, “Safe flight. See you on Wednesday.”

[lukesaprince]

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

[whumpy-wyrms]

genuinely need to be kidnapped and locked in someone’s basement that would literally heal me

[whereismyhat5678]

I had a clear vision with this one.

I did NOT need to spend that much time on this BUT DAMN IT IT’S FUNNY-

Context: Peppino was annoying the fuck outta’ him and it got so bad he wanted to take him home.

He was done with his bullshit- 💀

[rennyrose]

Be on the look out for some art for you bro. It spicy so I can't send it in asks

Oh hells yeah brother

[rosieleej]

BillFord, If you think about it, was what they believed to be an ego thing

Stanford “When else I’m going to have a chance to investigate so closely bidimensional individuals interpersonal dynamics” and “it’s in the name of science” Pines and Bill “wanting to be worshipped by the one he considered the smartest human in his century, hence subduing the whole human race” Cipher

Your honor they’re gay. Gay, drunk and oblivious.

[rigginsstreet]

More fics need to focus on billy getting absolutely shitfaced at parties but like in a angsty character study way

I need that bug under a microscope ASAP

[jester-step]

watching justin learn how dming works is so fucking hysterical

justin, in character: it’s like a bakery if you got a little dough you’re welcome to come right in

griffin, half in character: that is not how a bakery works,,

justin, realising he’s the one painting the word picture and he can do whatever he wants: YES IT IS

[merakiui]

RAAA STEP BRO CATER 👹👹👹 he would ask his step sibling to do suggestive things and assures them it’s just an innocent trend :33

-🌧️

YES YES OMG MANY THOUGHTS!!!!

(cw: yandere, nsfw, stepcest, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, stalking, non-consensual photography, obsession, cater’s so creepy and gross >_<)

Sb!Cater who’s the first to swoop in when you’re brought into the family, if only to get to you before his sisters do. He doesn’t want you to become yet another sibling of his who he dreads seeing when he must return home from NRC. You take to him immediately, warming up to his friendly, “cute” personality. Of course his sisters also adore you, seeing so much potential to ruin you—or that’s how Cater views it. His sisters shower you in clothes they think you’ll love, and each outfit must be cuter than the last. Cater would feel sorry for you, but he just can’t when you seem so genuine in your gratefulness. Are you really okay with his sisters shaping you into something you might not be?

Most days, you spend your time being shown around the town by Cater. He introduces you to all of his favorite, most photogenic locations. He even takes a few selfies with you to commemorate your arrival! This is the most excited he’s been for anything. Maybe it’s because you’re interested in his photography. Or maybe it’s because you actually listen to him and treat him like a person rather than some dress-up doll. At first he sort of hated the idea of getting another sibling (especially if you’re a girl; that would mean yet another sister). He can hardly handle the two he has now, so the fact that you’re much more of a relief compared to his sisters is like the biggest blessing ever.

Cater finds he’s restless on the days his sisters take you out. What are they showing you? What are they telling you? Do they talk about him? He wants to be the one to share things at his own leisure. He’s supposed to be the cool brother! That image will be ruined if you come back knowing his life’s story. >:( when you aren’t home, Cater finds himself poking through your room. It was mainly curiosity at first, but then he’s opening your drawers to look at your belongings and to see just what kind of clothes you wear. It’s nothing bad, he thinks while he’s running his own internal assessments. Your clothes are cute, but are they really you? Do you like this sort of stuff, or is it just the influence of his sisters?

He mainly snoops. That’s all he really does aside from scrolling through his phone to look back on all of the photos he’s taken. The two of you went swimming last week, and he zooms in to look at all of the skin that’s not covered by a swimsuit. It’s silly to think this, but you really are cute. He spends the hour compiling an album of photos with you, cropping the ones that include other people. He’ll add more to this album soon.

The next time Cater’s in your room, it’s to steal your underwear. You won’t miss it; and even if you do his sisters will overhear and insist they take you shopping. So he gets to be greedy and pick from the selection. Grossly enough, he fishes through your dirty laundry instead of the drawer filled with clean pairs. He’s gone before you come back from the kitchen, and you’re wearing that pair of short shorts he likes so much. Maybe his sisters’ influence isn’t so bad this time…

Cater’s added more photos to his collection. Some taken of you when you fell asleep on the sofa watching a movie. Some taken of your silhouette against the shower curtain. Some taken of you as you’re getting ready, your back turned when he stuck his phone through the small crack in your door after it was left slightly open. He’s gotten daring with each photo, straying too close to being caught. It’s dangerous and wrong. You’re supposed to be his step-sibling. He shouldn’t have these thoughts about someone who’s meant to be family. But he thinks you’d be even cuter if he had a chance to ruin you. You don’t need his sisters’ influence. You need big brother Cay’s influence (sure, he’s only older by a month or two, but that still makes him your big brother)! :D

He’ll teach you all about the pretty parts of your body you rarely touch. And he’d know because he’s watched you for months and snooped through your things in search of sex toys. It’s a little exciting to wonder and theorize. Have you even used your fingers yet? Are you truly textbook virgin (like his friend Riddle. Oh, if that’s the case he must introduce the two of you!)? Have you even taken a cock before, whether silicone or not? It would be super cute if he was your first time! There’s a floor-length mirror in his room. He can spread you open when he slides you down on his cock to show you just how widely you’ll stretch to accommodate him. And of course he must record it! Good memories should be captured in permanence, right?

[killerqueenhetfield]

I’d do anything

[hitrone]