ddejavvu
light a flame in your heart
mei/daisy ; 20 ; requests open for the marauders/star wars/top gun/criminal minds/stranger things ; theme by soyeonz
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I鈥檓 going to sleep now please stuff my inbox nice and full with top gun maverick requests (particularly hangman) 馃洂
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pairing: han solo x reader
summary: you get a little distracted while giving han a blowjob // based on a message from my friend who i do not wish to expose by name, about "licking Harrison fords space body"
this post is 18+, minors dni.
Maybe it's that this time you're on your knees recreationally, not driven by a vapid pit of lust below the gut of the man standing before you. When you have the time to be thoughtful about sex, you typically prefer penetration, but today you'd felt like occupying your mouth, and Han had been happy to oblige.
"Well get after it, killer," He drawls, confused by your sudden hesitance. You've never wasted this much time before sucking his cock into your mouth before, and he's not sure why you're doing it now.
Your eyes are trained on his hips, broad, tan stretches of skin and muscle and bone that lead into his thick, sturdy thighs. You've heard a similar build be referred to as a tree trunk thigh, and you cant say you disagree with the description; they're strong and firm, something you'd definitely like to climb.
You've squeezed his thighs before, flung your arms around his waist when he'd tried easing you off of his cock before you were ready to let go to anchor yourself to him. You've touched them, you've sat on them, you've ogled them, but you've never fully appreciated them like you want to do now.
"Come on," He urges, voice taking on an exasperated bite, "What're you doing down there, meditating? Get in there."
He braces a hand at the back of your head and pushes it forwards into his hips, his hard cock running into your face. You scramble to open your mouth and suck it between your lips where it had been smearing sticky precum against your cheek, a stain of it left across your chin, too. He gives you a moment to get settled but you're still distracted, and Han can tell in the way that you're only absentmindedly suckling at the head of his cock.
His mouth ticks down in a disgruntled frown and he reverses his grip on your head, pulling instead of pushing. Your scalp burns where he tugs at your hair but it's only enough force to get you off of his cock, and you lick across your sticky bottom lip while staring up at him, waiting for an explanation.
"What's with you today, crazy?" He asks, eyes narrowed as he thumbs at your chin, "You got somethin' on your mind?"
"Your thighs," You admit, voice already a tad raw from sucking his cock, no matter how casually you'd been doing it, "They look really good."
"My- thighs?" He confirms, brows furrowed, "You had my dick in your mouth, and you were thinking about my legs?"
"They're sexy," You breathe, reaching up to ghost your fingers against one of his thighs, feeling its warmth beneath your touch, "Han, can- can I please...?"
"What?" Now he's thoroughly exasperated, "Spit it out."
You do quite the opposite, and attach your mouth to his thigh.
You're sure that the warm, wet swipe of your tongue over his hip is strange, and you wonder if you'll ever hear his breath catch again so sharply, so weakly. It's a sound he's drawn out of you countless times, but never have you managed to catch him off guard enough for it to come out of him. His muscles tense under your tongue and you turn to teeth, gnawing gently on the firm mass of tanned flesh between your jaw.
"-the fuck do you think you're doing?" He demands to know, even more alarmed when your tongue wets the outermost undercurve of his ass - barely teasing at the skin there but enough to send him into a daze.
"Your hips are so sexy," You breathe, words fanning hot over his side as you bite down on his hipbone once more. There's something deliciously taboo about them, typically covered if only for the modesty of another body part; chaste in design but sinful in association, "Han, please- please just let me stay here for a minute."
He's persuaded by the way that you dip your tongue into the crease between his thigh and his cock, lapping at the sweat-tacky skin there and ignoring the way that his balls nudge against your face. His hand flies to his cock, stroking it before he even realizes he's moved it, words uncharacteristically strained as you press a parting kiss to his balls before snaking your tongue downwards in a slimy trail.
"Fine. Fine, shit," He hisses, feeling the burn of your fingernails into his skin as you wrap your arms around his thigh. You hear obscene squelching sounds as Han strokes himself off, vigorously thanks to your efforts in soaking his thigh with your drool, although he pretends not to enjoy it, "Y'know, something's wrong with you. Gave you my cock and you're over here chewing on my leg instead."
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PASTA MAN HAS A MUSCLE CAR?
he's getting one specifically because i told him that they were my favorite
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Val Kilmer as Iceman in Top Gun, 1986 requested by anonymous
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writing coruscant guard fanfiction, telling my boyfriend i want him to tongue me in his muscle car, and answering my science professor's questions correctly all at the same time
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On your Spencer Reid master list there鈥檚 a fix called passive aggressive but it doesn鈥檛 have a link, is that upcoming or an error?
Nah I鈥檓 p sure I was just too lazy to link it at the time. Here it is
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love how your pasta bf didn't care about the fact that you write smut online but that you are not writing about him LMAOO
he's a little attention whore
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I confess... I have a crush on aaron hotchner 馃様
i just sent 3 consequtive thirst trap edits to my science lab group bc i was talking about hotch last night and i felt as though my peers needed to see his beauty in real life
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My boyfriend calls me Gizmo
Because in his words: Gizmo from Gremlins is the cutest thing he has ever seen 馃拃
his mind is more advanced than all of ours
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i was walking to breakfast with pasta man today and we passed a sign that warns people of coyotes in the area and he said damn there's coyotes here? and i said yeah and he said well shit i'm glad i've got a cougar with me 馃拃 I'M ONLY 5 MONTHS OLDER THAN HIM
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pairing: anakin skywalker x reader:
summary: anakin fucks people that remind him of you
warnings: smut, minors dni. intense obsession (it's anakin), dubious fantasies, he doesn't treat his hookups very well
for @hanasnx who i have left waiting for far too long for this.
anakin fucks people that remind him of you.
he's hopelessly, obsessively in love with you. that much has been true since he'd met you. but you're with someone else, and no matter how much he tries willing your relationship to end; no matter how long he spends in some devilish imitation of prayer to the only god he knows, the Force, you're happy with another.
eventually, squeezing his eyes shut and picturing your face isn't enough to get him to shoot a load all over his stomach. he does it too many times, he rubs his cock raw and the novelty fades.
he makes it a point to inhale when he's near you, especially if you grace him with a hug. he commits the smell of your body spray to memory, and scours every care shop he can find until he picks up a bottle that matches your scent. he screams his throat raw into the pillow that he's sprayed with your smell as he fucks his fist. this works for a bit, but like the addiction you are, it fades again. he needs more.
he doesn't go out looking for someone like you, but when he spots a familiar haircut across the dingy lower-level bar that makes his cock twitch, he goes after them. it's not you, their face is less defined and rounder at the forehead, but he gets a terrible, awful, evil idea and he coaxes them to the back corner for a quick fuck. he squeezes his eyes shut and when they try kissing him and it doesn't bring with it a rush of your scent, he pushes them away and keeps them pinned to the wall while he jackhammers into them.
it gets worse, spiraling, spiraling, spiraling until he's fixating on a stranger with your cheekbones, a passerby whose voice sounds like yours. he lets them display their similar traits; cheekbones gets the privilege of his nose buried against their face and singsong gets to moan. if cheekbones dares moan though- it's not your voice, and he steals the breath from their lungs for just long enough to fuck it out between their hips and hike his pants back up.
the more he fucks, the worse he gets. he doesn't know he's moaning your name until someone has the gall to correct him, a breathy, "No, no, I'm- I'm Raya.'
Anakin kicks up a panicked, grunting wail as your face shatters and falls from his mind, the sound guttural and angry as he pins Raya's wrists beside their head. they're touching him but not like you would, so they're not allowed to touch him anymore. and they said their name was not yours, so they're not allowed to talk anymore. and they're ruining his fantasy, so would they just shut up so he can finish already? His raging cry covers the most part of their name but doesn't erase it; anakin has to muzzle them with his large hand to get enough of his fantasy back to where he's able to spill into your warm, wet hole, and he doesn't offer them so much as a courtesy kiss on the way out.
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KITTY IN MY LAP
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I don鈥檛 want to change my blog theme to a clone theme. But the parasites in me want to change my blog theme to a clone theme
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honestly if an ick is enough to make you (you as in general people not you specifically) break up with someone, you never really like them that much in the first place. My ex would give me the ick all the time but it was never something that made me go "ew i'm gonna break up with him"
^^^^^ when you like someone enough you throw up at their horrendous behaviors and then go about your day
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https://www.tumblr.com/ddejavvu/748340597543354368?source=share
mei i hope you know im foaming at the mouth rn
good <3
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this is a bit random but do you watch f1?
nope i do not
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the force is strong with him
pairing: darth vader x reader
summary: various ways vader manipulates the force around you
cw: smut - minors dni, toxic relationship (it's literally darth vader), improper use of the force, sensory deprivation/overstimulation, manhandling, don't like, don't read.
happy indy day @hanasnx !!! okay i know i'm a bit late (for your time zone, at least) but uhhh. i was watching indiana jones and building legos okay i promise i was thinking about you the whole day. anyways vader is sexing you soooo hard for your birthday. so so hard and mean.
You are so much more, so much different than a partner to Vader. You're allowed autonomy, of course- what you eat, drink, wear, read, watch is up to you- provided the outfits are selected out of the closet he stocks for you, and the meals are taken at his right hand. But in the desolate grey walls of your lover's in-progress battle station, nothing but vacuous emptiness beyond its walls, your autonomy has merged with his own complicated being, and more often than not you find yourself being directed by the invisible Force that guides his life.
He strides a half-step ahead of you down the halls, but a tight ring of pressure still encompasses your bicep - he's got you in his grasp, even if there's a disconnect between the bruising force around your arm and his curled, leather-clad fingers. He makes elegant, sweeping turns, and you do the same only because he makes you- he's still holding tight to your arm with the Force. If you tried to keep going straight, or turn the other direction, your arm would be separated from its socket.
You obey; the joint stays in tact.
He is particularly fond of nudging you aside with the Force. He doesn't need to - he could wait for you to catch on that he's trying to move past you, or he could simply shoulder you out of the way with his broad frame. But instead an invisible wall bumps into your left side, and you stumble to the right as it prods you sideways, making enough room for the black-clad figure to sweep by.
It doesn't matter if you huff and puff at him, 'I could have moved myself, y'know!' or if you stutter out apology after apology, 'sorry-!', he answers it the same each time. A silent, head-on stare from a menacing mask with no eyes.
Being regarded by your lover is as terrifying as feeling the Force suck the air out of your lungs, and you endure both. A thrill shoots up your spine whenever you hold eye contact with the mask, and Vader is more than happy to stare at you for as long as you'll be stared at. Blinking does not shift his attention; it is a staring contest that cannot be won. Only continued, prolonged, dragged out until your eyes flit elsewhere, and his remain fixed on your figure, watching, always watching.
He doesn't often need to restrain you- who would dare make that mistake twice? - but he does catch you once, only once with his lightsaber.
It had been set carefully aside for your lover's stint in the bacta tank, and you'd stolen it away to your chambers to inspect it. You've always seen it at his side- never out of its holster unless it rested in his black leather grip, and it's been intriguing to you since the day you'd seen it. You'd never gathered the courage to touch it before, though, not until you were confident you could squirrel it away while Vader was unconscious.
The hilt is heavy and cold in your hand- so heavy, so cold. You know the blade inside vibrates with plasma as hot as the fire that had warped your lover's skin, but it feels so soul-suckingly frigid that you're amazed it's ever been used. It's the weight of a thousand kills, the crimson of gallons of spilt blood, and it rests heavily in your hands.
You're only aware of the footsteps steadily pounding towards you after you're frozen in place, limbs suddenly locked- tied with zipties that can't be cut by your mortal hand.
Vader doesn't lecture you- not right away, at least. Instead he thumbs the triggerplate of the saber in your hands with one finger of the invisible hand that's holding you still, and the red blade hums to life mere centimeters from your face. The heat stings at your skin like a swarm of wasps, itchy, tight, hot stinging. It paralyses you only further, and your eyes yearn to widen where you're being held as a statue.
"That is what a lightsaber feels like when it is an inch from taking your life." Vader rasps, his voice mechanic and bone-chilling, "I urge you not to find out what happens when that inch disappears. I will take it away myself if you dare handle my weapon again."
He snatches it away from your grasp, but your hand is still trapped in his cosmic grip, molded perfectly around the hilt of his blade.
"See to it that you do not make me kill you." He speaks plainly, robotic voice inherently devoid of emotion as he towers over your frozen form, "I would not like to spend time replacing you."
Vader's insertion of the Force into your life is present even in sex. Sex with Vader is convoluted, something he enjoys very rarely in its traditional sense. But to reward you for your unfailing loyalty and obedience, you're pleasured quite often, and Vader revels in manipulating the Force around your body.
Sometimes it is merely that invisible hand prying your thighs apart, dipping into the wet warmth of your cunt and spreading you open for him to see. You're sure it's an obscene view, your cunt bared and open and hollow for him to watch as it expands and contracts around a girth that isn't there.
Other times, however, it is darkness, it is the absence of sound, it is the emptiness of floating in a void of your lover's creation. He steals your senses, takes your sight, your sound, your touch. He isolates you in your own body, you can no longer feel the sheets beneath you or hear the rustle of them in your fingers. All he lets you hear is the raspy rhythm of his respirator, not even your own sounds.
He does it because the less you can hear of yourself, the louder you become. You're sheepish to scream when your own ears pick up the sound, but when he blocks it from your senses, your shouts reverberate around the desolate grey walls of your chambers and each one fills up a meter of satisfaction inside of him that he didn't know was still active.
All he lets you hear his him, all he lets you feel is him.
Sometimes he leaves you in the void- all sound and sight and touch absent - for minutes. Sometimes it is an hour, until the surface of your skin beads with sweat and your brain itches desperately for sensation. Then a finger that isn't really there- that's just an extension of the leather-covered one that your lover is holding out beyond the inky blackness of your consciousness - plunges into your cunt, and the only sense you can feel is the penetration. After minutes- hours of feeling nothing, that single thick finger dips past your slit and shorts out the neurons in your brain. It is everything, it is something after nothing and it is Vader watching intently with that permanent stare that you can never escape.
It is touches far too few in quantity that make you squirt and writhe like you've been fucked within an inch of your life. It is something mysteriously disembodied tweaking at your perked nipples, something phantom putting pressure against your clit.
It is Vader, and it is the way he merges his autonomy with yours as a reward for your unfailing loyalty and obedience. You serve him and now you are granted a space within his person- budge over there below his mechanized lungs, settle into the weary cage of his ribs, stay a while.
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