Ten Manga I Think They’d Enjoy

If you're struggling to write sex, write food. if you're struggling to write food, write gore. if you're struggling to write gore, write sex. They're all variations on the same themes.

i don't think i can thug this shit out anymore

Folks, friends, y’all…. esk*mo is a slur. I understand a lot of people don’t know that, I don’t want to be a dick about it, but I’ve been seeing it in fics. Wanna write “esk*mo kisses”? Just say “nuzzled noses” or something.

I’m not here to call anybody out, it’s been in multiple fics, I’m not vague posting. This is just a psa. 👍🏻

I still love how when the switch came out Nintendo was like “I know! We will make the switch games taste bad so kids won’t eat them!”

And all of humanity collectively said: “Okay but how bad does it taste?” And licked their switch cartridges.

Philosophers and anthropologists have debated it for years. “The defining trait of humanity is our intelligence/compassion/creativity/curiosity, etc.”

No no. All of that is wrong.

The defining trait of humanity is that we are weird as shit.

Jeff the killer general smut headcanons:

Jeff is definitely into knife play. I mean... I firmly believe that he would carve some stupid drawings on his act partner.

He's into bondage. Jeff tries to convince at least himself that he's strong enough and he's in control, due to the fact of his physical weakness and megalomania.

Jeff's also into self harm! Killer will fuck the brains out of himself until he'll shot blanks and have a biggest headache.

He has some bugs in his asshole. Due to being scared of Jane getting to him at night, he oftentimes sleeps outside the Slendermansion, wandering around.

Due to being generally unhygienic, as part of self-harm, he scratches his ulcers frequently and openly and likes them scratched by an act partner as well, especially if they're trying to fight him away.

He's also a junkie, and that makes his urge to scratch even more.

Jeff is a KILLER after all, so i guess his into a little chase, but because of his control complex he never goes to far. He already had a "bad" experience, his pray got away and he had to migrate. That was a lot of pain in his ass and Jeff's also lazy so he made a word for himself to control his "inner animalistic nature".

He likes to get high during or after the act, and it can cause him to do werider crap. For example, Jeff is hungry often, since he hasn't much money due to being an addict, so he might start to bite the act partner.

For Jeff, if there's a hole there's a goal: he doesn't have a preference for a partner's gender. However, keeping his past with male bullies in mind, he will probably be much more violent with male victims.

Deadlifted 405. 3 reps 8 sets.

kinktober - day 08 - cockwarming

ghost x gn!reader | 1k words cw: cockwarming (duh), blowjob/face-fucking, spit summary: simon asks so little of you. be still, be good. banner by @/cafekitsune | kinktober list

You’re drooling. He doesn’t seem to mind.

Perching atop Simon, you’re a living statue. Dedicated to restraint. Despite the thrum reverberating through your body, emanating from the deep seat of his cock, you remain still. Every scrap of willpower spent on not clenching around him mindlessly, not milking him dry, not granting a single, subtle movement.

You balance on the cusp of self-control, yours and his.

He asks so little of you. 

Don’t think about how good it feels. How right it feels. That would be selfish. He needs this.

Be still. Be good.

The mantra loops in your head with each breath. Your eyes flutter open, eyelashes kissing his skin where your head rests. Slumped against your boyfriend, his cock buried to the hilt inside you, you feel as though you could fall asleep. Akin to the whir of a tattoo gun or the drone of an engine, the pulse of his cock is rhythmic. Soothing.

Right where you belong.

This isn’t just about his relaxation, but your own. (You figured that out after the first time he asked you to do it.)

When Simon leaves, he knows he’s not the only one anxious over his safety and return. This—along with several rounds of near bed-breaking sex—is how the both of you calm down. Work it out of your systems.

The melting ice in his drink clinks as it shifts in the glass. You blearily stare, measuring time in amber. Oh. Huh. You must’ve dozed off already.

Simon shifts. Tiny shocks dance across your skin and burst like fireworks in your belly. A small test. He strokes the length of your thigh, then squeezes and pulls a cheek.

“Back in the land of the livin’?”

“Mm, yeah,” you murmur sleepily. “Can I wipe my mouth?”

He adjusts beneath you, driving a quiet moan out of you. He chuckles, and his knuckles sweep up your back. “If ya want. I’d like to read for a bit.”

Stars dance at the edge of your vision at the unspoken command. Invitation, really. You don’t wipe your mouth but blot his bare shoulder and chest with your shirt and let him kiss you once on the way down. The extra saliva does help with this particular stretch.

You taste yourself intermixed with him, musk and sweat. His bodywash, faintly, from a shower break some hours ago. Your lips stretch around his cock and seal around it, tongue snug beneath its weight and teeth tucked. He nudges further into your mouth and throat every ten seconds. He keeps count, but you do, too.

Thanks to the frequency of your sessions, it’s hardly a struggle once he’s comfortably resting in your mouth. Breathe in, breathe out.

Drool gradually gathers and drips from your mouth. Beads and puddles form on your naked thighs. You negotiate a posture, folding your arms to rest your head against a knee. Simon’s hand gently pats your head so as to not muss or disturb your hair, and then he settles in with a book.

With the sound of turning pages and the occasional sip, you drift back into that pleasant headspace. The world softens at its edges like slipping underwater or a warm blanket drying under the afternoon sun. Becomes a distant and vague thing, where Simon’s your anchor. A weightless haze where you don’t need to be anything other than this.

You’d kneel for hours if you could. In reality, it’s so much shorter than that. Your knees and his cock are impatient things, for very different reasons.

Simon gives you a five-second warning by dropping his book before his hands settle over the back of your skull. The time for relaxation is over.

With all the spit and your fairly lax muscles, it’s obscene how quick he goes. Hips rolling, retracting, and plunging back in with loud, squelching noises. You gag hard but swiftly force yourself to adapt, becoming pliant under his grip as he pushes your head to meet his cock. You blindly reach up, one hand resting on his thigh and the other pushing under his shirt to thread into his happy trail. He groans loud enough to wake the neighbors when you tug a little.

It’s a struggle to open your eyes, let alone roll them straight up. Your gazes meet over the landscape of his body, the pudge of his stomach, and rippling muscle. He’s gorgeous like this, taking what he needs from you at his leisure. Those blinking eyelashes that seem almost out of place on a man like him, shading the black coals of his eyes. Your chest tightens, knowing they burn for you.

He slows a bit to speak.

“I’m gonna come—can you take it?”

You demonstrate your ‘yes’, swallowing around his cock and sneaking a burning drag of air, then hook your fingers over the loosened waistband of his jeans. Hanging on for dear life as he resumes his pistoning into your mouth. It isn’t long until his hips stutter.

“That’s it, fuck, swallow—don’t waste a drop.”

Hot cum bursts into your mouth in thick ropes. The majority shoots down your throat, but what’s left, you taste. A salt and bitterness, a touch of sweetness. It splashes over your tongue, and you swallow, the act a whole negotiation with your mouth still stuffed.

Your throat works as he slows to a deep roll of his hips. He withdraws and grips the base of his cock, holding it still for you to lick clean. Red-pink and shiny, you kiss its head and let him help you up with a groan. You automatically stick out your tongue, which he pinches gently with a thumb and forefinger, inspecting like you’re hiding any.

“Did so well for me. Didn’t complain once. You alright, sweet’eart?” 

You hum, nuzzling into his other, completely drool-free shoulder, and nod. “Mhmm. Am requesting a break for my mouth, though.” 

He brushes his lips to your temple, and you feel him smirk. “S’pose I’ll allow it.”

Lifting some, you start to try and nudge him into lying down. You drag your legs off him and meet his amused eye. He complies after a minute of poking and prodding.

“What’re you doin’?”

You warm at the sight of him on his back, then stand to figure out the best approach.

“Your nose looks cold, Simon,” you remark softly. “Should I sit there, too?”

Said it a year ago and I’ll say it again.

Pirate all your favorite shows, movies and games while you still have the chance.

Oh, and never stop supporting physical media.