#... but leak culture still sucks ass

[msviolacea]

The biggest issue with leak culture is how much fun it takes out of speculating and theorizing. Like, the new Genshin trailer looks absolutely nuts and I want to be hyped about it, but I also know that the entire story has leaked now and it's only a matter of time before I get spoiled, and/or that half of the people who give a shit will already know what happens so speculation is pretty much pointless. I hate this feeling of starting to get excited for the feeling of "oooh, who is that? what just happened? I wonder if ..." only to remember "nope, lots of people already know the real answer, why bother?"

I'm old and cranky, I know. But I did just have a thought that maybe this is one of the many reasons TTRPGs have become so popular - it's a form of storytelling that literally cannot be spoiled, that can't be leaked for social media clout or experienced out of order in context-free details that let people form wild and incorrect assumptions, that actually requires you to experience the story as it unfolds.

Don't mind me, it's been A Week and my hormones are screaming their last gasp of youthful relevancy, I'm fighting the urge to disappoint my D&D group and hide in a blanket alone all weekend, and I just want something to make it all feel better. But instead I have to corral my hormones and depression long enough to be a vaguely professional human being for 8-ish hours. So I'm being pissy on Tumblr to cope. Apologies.

[teeth-cable]

Heres an issue I've been thinking on that I don't see anyone talking about in them critical space. I wrote a long ass ask to another blog about how Vivziepop sucks at portraying ethnic groups but its was and since your on the topic of Vivziepop FUCKING up basic religions I want to send something more organized and specific. I have an issue as an ethnically Jewish person with Rosie.

I will preface this by stating I am disconnected with my culture but I am trying to reconnect and I am not practicing. I actually would welcome people more connected than me or practitioners to add to this or correct me.

So we know Rosie is supposed to resemble a Jewish mother... I feel gross with that phrasing because there's a lot. Like again I'm disconnected but why did Vivziepop have to specify Jewish Mother? Like this almost feels like a stereotype and the best faith things I could guess is Vivziepop just thinks jews are a religious group or is just ignorant in general. The thing about our religion is that it's mostly closed... Like typically as far as I'm aware you can only practice if you are ethnically Jewish. So she wrote this in an official document highlighting a character specifically being jewish in a way that feels gross.

Another thing is you literally can't have a setting set in hell with Jewish characters because Hell doesn't exist in the Torah (the holy book) like all that stuff that Jesus said contradicts what was already written which is why Jews don't worship or see Jesus as the Messiah. I'm unsure if he is viewed as a prophet or not. I know in Islam he is seen that way.

I forget the name of the afterlife but basically when bad people die they only suffer for a year and everyone goes to the same place.

Also Rosie possibly being Jewish makes no logical sense because to be Jewish your mom has to be and her mother before her. It's a matriarchal aspect though there are a few places that accept patriarchal descent that is a recent thing. Rosie is Hellborn last I checked and sinners can't reproduce with Hellborns so.... How the fuck is she Jewish?

Then her being a cannibal is very off-putting because a lot of people who barely know anything about Judaism know that Jews usually have a specific diet practice. Now not everyone knows the name of it but it's called Kosher. And yes not everyone practices it is still widely known we aren't supposed to like eat stuff that comes from pigs. It's a bit fucked that the only Jewish character is a cannibal... That probably is connected to some anti semitic stereotype somewhere that I'm unaware of since there's a fuck ton.

Also Vivziepop wants an ethinically accurate cast but instead of specifically asking for a jewish actress she mentioned someone who sounds like a jewish mother... What does that even mean?

Like unlike the goblins from the series that must not be named, this reeks of ignorance instead of malice. Especially, since we know Vivziepop absolutely refuses to do research for her shows that require literally more than a 10 minute google search.

Like you can't fully separate an ethnically Jewish character from the religion itself unlike uh a character from Spain can be separated from Christianity. Like our blood and religion are deeply tied together especially as we are being prosecuted throughout history and still managing to survive it all because of it.

Like if you absolutely want a jewish character in Hazbin your gonna need a sensitivity reader and have to make them a sinner.

The character I see get talk about most about antisemitism in Hazbin Hotel is Mimzy and Rosie is just an "Ah-Ha!" moment for critics because her leak bio directly confirmed it. While there can a discussion if Mimzy can technically count as an Jewish stereotype because we don't know if she's Jewish or not, I found Rosie to be more egregious because Viv used the line, "Rosie has a strong presence and confident energy as a Jewish mother." First what is that even supposed to mean? And second by this description Viv see Rosie as a Jewish character and will code her as such.

I think the critics forget Rosie will be a recurring side character in the show which is why we haven't seen many discussions yet about what it means for Rosie's character to be Jewish coded.

I will said Viv's ignorance is getting to a point of malice to me since she very aware of the criticism she gets for characters like Velvette and Alastor and her not doing research and purposely spreading misinformation because of it is icky. Like this woman has to know eventually she can't just keep making up information of POC groups and religions out of nowhere and has to hire someone from those groups to help her. If Viv really did care about researching about these group for good rep she would have consulted with them first. If Viv hired a Jewish person to help her write Rosie, she would have learned about the problems you addressed with Rosie being a Hellborn who is jewish and the weird implications she added like making the only Jewish character into a cannibal. Viv has claimed Hell is supposed to take inspiration from different religions and cultures but that's just not true because Viv's hell is clearly christian inspired with a hint of demonology elements.

I'm unsure how she would even make the idea work in the first place if Christianity's hell is supposed to be the main setting in Hazbin Hotel and Helluva because different religions have different rules and interpretations of Hell, Heaven, and the characters, heck some religions don't even have Heaven and Hell like what we discuss here.

[eradicatetehnormal]

Just Watched Do Revenge For the First Time

Movie's about two girls who get back at the people who've wronged them. One because she was outed as queer and treated as a predator (Eleanor), and the other because she had a risque video leaked of her (Drea).

Something I liked about the movie is that there isn't really a good guy. Everyone's a horrible person, the main character, Drea especially. Weirdly enough though, the movie gets you to sympathize with her even if it's for a few seconds. We've all heard stories about that teen girl who was ruined because of her crappy boyfriend or someone who crushes on her, violating her privacy, and as someone who was obsessed with success the first couple years of high school, I could understand Drea's upset about ||losing her opportunity to go to Yale||. That being said, aside from the leaked pictures, she deserves everything else that happens to her in the movie. I appreciate the writers for not just making her a sympathetic victim while still making her the mean girl archetype.

Drea's situation reminds me of one that happened a few years back where a high school girl got nude pictures of her leaked, and the school turned on the leaker! Good, right? But then there was this dumb article trying to sympathize with him saying that he doesn't deserve to be ostracized. YES HE DOES! That brings me to my next point, which is this movie has great commentary. Throughout the movie, Drea's ex-boyfriend faces little to no repercussions for his actions despite being just as bad as our main lead. He does so by pretending to be a feminist as well as a polyamorous man. I think that's what makes this movie stand out a bit from other movies like it. The lens is gendered, but it doesn't treat the need for social security and the cutthroat nature of that as a feminine thing. It's an everyone thing, unfortunately. May I just say that the school forgiving the ex-boyfriend just because he said he was poly felt like BS? If you sleep with a bunch of people and then try to cover your ass by saying you're poly, people are going to think you're a dick. Because you are. Especially to CiShEt, PaTrIaRcHaL, MoNoGaMoUs, society. You can't tell me that most of the female students wouldn't chew him out for that. People would see right through it if that many women dated him and didn't know about the others. W on Drea and Eleanor's parts for skipping graduation. The only good thing about it is seeing your family and getting pictures. Otherwise, it sucks and is way too expensive. L on the movie for giving them love interests that weren't each other! Both of their partners were boring and there were implications, I'm not the only one who saw it, right? Them cuddling in the bed together? Drea thinking about Eleanor while having oral favors done on her? The whole "Do you have a jealous boyfriend who works on cars" and Drea responding "Something like that," Like, come on! One of the characters is already outwardly queer. (side note, but I wish Eleanor could've had more butch clothing even if I prefer more feminine styles) Overall, not a game changer, a solid 7/10. I'll happily accept it or The Duff as my generation's defining teen movie even if we didn't get cultural shifting one like millennials and the generation before us did with Clueless and Mean Girls.

[umbrabilis-orchis]

Head in my hands rn. Head in my hands.

There are a lot of issues here that I'm sure have been talked to death but I'm going to lay out my two cents anyway.

1. People are right, why tf is Sumeru a conglomeration of cultures rather than taking inspiration from one country or group specifically, like the rest of the regions we have so far? Grouping the entire Middle East with the entirety of Southeast Asia for some... mishmash aesthetic looks dumb and is just really doing a disservice to every culture you're trying to take inspiration from. It would've been much better to pick a specific area and stick with that.

2. I'd ask why Genshin designers are afraid of making characters with dark skin, but I know the answer is because dark skinned characters don't make money in their view. Genshin Impact is first and foremost a waifu/husbando simulator and unfortunately, colorism is rampant not only across the main CN and JP markets, but the rest of the world too. Pale skin is seen as a very desirable trait while anything darker than a light tan is not. Hence, it is safer for Hoyoverse to make light skinned characters because they know that's what the beauty standard is. Obviously this sucks major ass and is not right at all, but since when have companies really cared about anything other than profit? Especially gacha games, who are designed to suck the most money out of you as possible?

3. Everyone doing redesigns of the current Sumeru characters are doing the Lord's work. It is clear to me and hopefully anyone else with eyes that a lot of these characters would look much better if they had darker skin and outfits that weren't just... vague amalgamations of... some kind of culture. Looking at the leaked designs, it is really hard to tell what real world cultural designs and motifs most of them are supposed to be referencing. (Again, see point 1). And for some, like Dori, they're just straight up stereotypes, which is arguably worse.

4. AFAIK, there are more dark skinned characters in the works, and hopefully that balances the Sumeru cast out more, but that still doesn't excuse all of this nonsense. I'm really worried about the trend this is setting... Natlan is supposed to be based off of Mesoamerica, but with the way things are going with Sumeru, I wouldn't be surprised if we end up with even more light skinned people instead of dark skinned ones. I also don't really trust Hoyo to handle Natlan with any kind of tact; having a region based on Central America be themed after violence and war is already playing pretty dangerously into stereotype territory. My expectations are already 6 feet under and I'm sure I'll still be disappointed.

5. I'll be honest, I have no idea what to do about any of this. Obviously the players are right to be mad and should voice their concerns to the rest of the playerbase and Hoyoverse themselves, but I think we're all aware at this point that Hoyo doesn't give a damn about the surveys and replies to emails with just bot answers. It seems highly unlikely to me that they will do anything about this, unless they feel like they're going to lose a significant amount of money because of it. I mean, they caved when everyone got on them about the anniversary rewards, and arguably this is much more important than that! But really, who knows. I guess just make your opinion known to Hoyoverse and if push comes to shove be ready to pack up and leave unless the criticism is acknowledged. You have to be serious about not giving them any money, or else they won't listen. They have to know it is more profitable to listen and respond to criticism than it is to ignore it and be ignorant.

I think that about covers my opinion on all of this. Remember to think critically about what you see and hear, and to do your own research before coming up with answers to your questions. I, and no one else in the tag, or on Twitter or Reddit or anywhere else, is a 100% expert on any of these issues, and it behooves you as a consumer to gather information from all sides of an issue before coming to a conclusion.

[mellowswriting]

Mando N*S*F*W Alphabet

**I had to delete and reupload this because tumblr hates me lmao

A - Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Mando is exhausted. Sex is always drains every bit of energy from the both of you because Mando is intense. Whether he’s giving it to you slow and deep or he’s fucking you hard over any available surface, every bit of strength is sapped from his usually strong and capable body. 

That doesn’t mean he skimps on the aftercare, though. He likes to rub his palms over your heated skin - your arms, your thighs, your belly. Doesn’t matter to him, he just wants to touch. 

He whispers his thanks into the air like he’s in confession, his words hushed as he tells you how good you are for him, how lucky he feels. How much he loves you. 

Din loves to fall asleep with his cock still buried in you, overstimulated and twitching every now and then, even if he knows he’ll likely wake up with a sore back from the awkward position. 

B - Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Din didn’t really think about his own body that much, positively or negatively - until he met you of course. His body was just that. His body. But when you told him little things you loved about him, he couldn’t help but start to take notice. 

His hands are his favorite, he supposes. They’re strong, capable. Watching his fingers disappear into your mouth or twitch over your neck where he holds you in place as he fucks you fast and hard… it really gets him going. He can’t help but love his hands with the way you talk about them, too. The first time you told him it turned you on to watch how expertly he could disassemble his blaster to clean it made him look at them in a new light, and now he can never turn back. 

Din loves every single part of your body, but he’s partial to those hips. He can settle his hand on your hip while you’re standing next to him and easily stake his claim that way. Everyone around knows who you belong to like that. They’re his favorite place to grab while he fucks you, with your neck in a close second place. Whether you’re riding him, on your hands and knees, or laid out on your back, your hips sport bruises constantly from how hard his grip is when he uses them to hold you firm for him. 

Din also loves your mouth, but we’ll talk about that soon...

C - Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Holy shit does Din love seeing his cum on you, in you, anyway possible. It’s a primal thing that makes his spent cock twitch every time he sees it. It feels like he’s marking you, claiming you as his in the most base way possible. 

His absolute favorite place to finish is inside of you, obviously. The idea of it taking hold and watching your belly swell with his child? Fuck. His brain short circuits at the very thought. He shoves his cum back into you when it dares leak out, his fingers slick with both of your cum. He loves the feeling of your exhausted cunt spasming around his thick fingers. 

Din will cum all over your face if you assure him that you want it. It feels degrading in the most delicious way, and he would never want to make you feel like he genuinely sees you that way. Both those wide, pretty eyes staring up at him from where you’re kneeling on the floor, his cum all over your face is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He scoops it all up with his fingers and lets you suck them clean, and fuck, he’s hard again.

If you let him finish anywhere else, on your thighs or belly or ass, he’s rubbing it into your skin. Yet another way for him to lay his claim to you. 

D - Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Din wants to try consensual non-consent - specifically hunting you down like you’re some bounty. He wants to fuck you like he hates you, like you’re just a hole he paid to fuck in some sleezey brothel, not like you’re his precious, sweet little thing. Of course he would treat you like an angel afterwards, but in the moment? He wants to tie you up, haul you over his shoulder, and smack your ass when you beg him not to fuck you. 

E - Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Specifically with sex? Din is experienced. It’s canon that he fucks, okay. It was a utilitarian act, the periodical release of stress so he wouldn’t explode with pressure. Din makes sure his partner gets theirs and he gets his, and then he goes on his way.

Until you. Suddenly there’s this option to explore, broaden his horizons and try new things. Din discovers he loves missionary. He can grip your jaw and angle your face however he wants to get a good look at those kiss-swollen lips and glazed eyes. 

Intimacy during and after is the new part that he’s inexperienced with, and it takes him a minute to get used to it. The first time you tangle your fingers with his and just… hold his hand while he’s viciously railing you, Din’s pace stutters because… wow, this is somehow so soft and loving while he’s rearranging your guts and yeah, he loves it. And you. 

F - Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Din has a few, he can’t pick just one. 

Missionary is one of the top ones. He loves being able to look into your eyes and watch your face as you slowly lose your mind with pleasure. Watching your breasts bounce with each thrust is a plus, too. 

Face down, ass up, and you’ve got one very happy Mandalorian on your hands. It feels filthy, primal even, to fuck you like this. Like he’s got ownership of your body as he lords over you, gathers your hair in one hand, and pulls to get that beautiful arch to your spine. 

If you’re both exhausted but still needy, he’ll pull your back against his chest, tuck your leg over his hip, and slide into you nice and slow. It’s intimate and slow, the way he rocks into your body until you’re both sated. 

G - Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Din is a serious guy and that definitely includes during sex. 

I mean, he’ll chuckle if you knock heads, but that’s about it. 

He takes your pleasure seriously. He doesn’t just want you to feel good, he fucking needs it like he needs air. 

H - Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Din has a curly thatch of dark hair above his cock. He doesn’t let it grow out of control, but he doesn’t like shaving himself completely bare. The man already has to deal with layer upon layer of cloth and armor, he doesn't need the added discomfort of ingrown hairs and itchiness. So he keeps it neatly trimmed. 

Plus he has a small happy trail, just a thin wispy bit of hair reaching towards his belly button. 

I - Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Din murmurs how much he loves you, how lucky he is that he has you. In the moment when he’s so close to breaking, so close to filling you with his cum, his words are choked off and barely understandable. 

It becomes clearer once he’s come down from his high and his heart rate has gone back to normal. He murmurs between kisses to your face, shoulders, chest, anywhere he can reach. 

After so many years of impersonal sex, Din relishes in the intimacy he experiences with you. Just holding your body close to his gives him such a rush, he feels like a lovesick teenager. Somehow the way you gently run your fingers down his sternum makes him blush harder than the sight of you on your knees with his cock in your mouth. 

J - Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He used to masturbate regularly. It’s an easy way to ease some of his tension and help clear his mind. It doesn’t happen as often now - when he gets the urge, he goes to you for that release. 

If you aren’t around or busy or otherwise not in the mood, he has no problem taking care of himself if the ache is too much to ignore. 

K - Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise, giving and receiving. He loves the way you shiver underneath him when he calls you his good girl, tells you how pretty you look underneath him. He loves the desperate glint in your eyes because he just knows you want more of that addictive praise and that you’d do practically anything for it. But it’s the tremble in your voice when you tell him how fucking big he is, how amazing he feels splitting you open, how good he makes you feel that makes him lose his absolute mind. Din feels powerful and godly in the way that he can make you tremble beneath him, but beyond that - he feels loved. Appreciated. 

Degradation. A bit contrary to the praise kink, but hey. Din will growl out that you’re his cockdrunk little slut and shudder at your response of drawing his fingers into your mouth to suck on while he fucks you even harder. 

Breeding & Lactation kink. His entire culture is based upon raising and caring for children, so of course Din wants to see you swollen with his child. Even if it’s just a fantasy and you don’t want kids or can’t have them, he loves filling you with his seed and imagining. The very idea of wrapping his lips around your perky nipple and drinking the milk your body made to feed his child makes Din work a thousand times harder to breed you. 

Overstimulation. Those big, begging eyes you give him as he circles your clit, after already making you cum a few times lights something dark and primal inside Din. 

Primal play. Again, the idea of hunting you down and fucking you wherever he finds you has him harder than his beskar in a second flat.

Cockwarming. It’s intimate and teasing at the same damn time. What is there not to love about that?  

L - Location (favorite places to do the do)

His favorite place is his bunk. He doesn’t have to worry about anyone seeing him. He can strip completely bare, feel your skin against his own, listen to your cry out his name when he buries his teeth in your neck. 

That doesn’t mean he won’t drag you into a dark alleyway to fuck you against the bricks. He makes sure to cover your mouth with his gloved hand so no one hears you moaning on his cock like a desperate little slut. 

The cockpit. Holy shit, the cockpit. Din loves having you on his dick while he pilots. He doesn’t even have to be actively fucking you. If he’s got you in his lap with his dick buried in your cunt, then he’s rubbing your thighs and ass with those huge, warm hands while you curl up against his chest. If he’s got you on your knees for him with your mouth around his cock, you can expect him to settle his hand at the crown of your head to hold you close. Plus he even got you a little pillow after the first time you rose to your feet with sore and bruised knees

M - Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Watching you change clothes. There’s just something about the way you pause and smile so brightly when you see him looking at you, half dressed and offering him a kiss. It’s intimate, almost domestic. He’s got you tossed onto the bed so he can rip the rest of your clothes off before you can blink. 

Din loves when you beg. Your voice gets so desperate, so needy for him. 

Seeing you reject someone. Weird, I know, but hear me out. You’re fucking hot, so it’s bound to happen that someone will hit on you while you’re out and about, especially in cantinas and especially if Din has stepped away to take care of business. Without that imposing wall of beskar hovering behind you, some people are bold enough to approach and flirt with you. Most have no issue bowing out at your rejection, but there’s always the inevitable asshole who decides that you just need some more convincing. Din loves the way you eye them and then laugh in their face. It just cements the fact that you’re his. 

N - No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

No actual breathplay. Din will let his hands clamp over the sides of your neck to restrict your blood flow and give you that heady, hazy feeling, but refuses to actually press down on your windpipe. It’s too fucking dangerous. 

Nothing that would cause you actual harm or scar you. Knife play is a solid maybe, but he isn’t going to cut you or anything like that. The idea of causing you pain that isn’t also pleasurable makes his stomach turn. 

O - Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Din has a thing for your mouth, okay. He fucking loves everything about it, those soft lips, your talented tongue, the sharp bite of your teeth. You use it so well; your words are vivid and at times, poetic. Your kisses are all-encompassing. Din could lose himself in the flow of your lips against his. The marks you leave on his neck and chest make him shiver. 

So the image of you on your knees with his cock in your mouth??? HELLO, this man is hard and ready to go. He feels like you’re going to suck his entire soul out of him, and he’s totally okay with that too. 

Din never actually gave anyone else oral until you because of his Creed. He was too in his head about whoever he was with not respecting his religion and its importance, so he never gave in to the curiosity of pleasuring someone with his tongue. But don’t worry, Din is a fast learner. He listens to your instruction on what you like and pays rapt attention to the different ways your body responds to his touch, to what motions draws out those pretty little gasps and makes your hips jerk to grind against his face. 

Din learns that he doesn’t just love receiving oral, but giving as well. He would spend hours between your thighs if you’d let him

P - Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Both? Both. Both are good. 

It always ends with Din going fast and rough. More often than not, it starts with slow and soft grinding and gasping against each other. The more that tension builds, though? Din’s hands grow rougher as he wraps a hand in your hair to hold you steady in whatever position he wants to keep you in. His kisses become more teeth than tongue, his gasps and moans become harsh groans and growls that make tingles dance along your skin. 

After you both get yours though? He’s right back to being slow and soft and sensual. Such a precious man. 

Q - Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Hey, sometimes you just gotta fuck and there’s not enough time to draw it out and completely exhaust your bodies. Din understands that better than anyone. So he has no problem bending you over the console in the cockpit when you grin at him with that sly fucking look on your face and say, “Ten minutes or less?” 

Honestly, I see Din as the type to have a quickie a day. No lie, he loves the fast and desperate rush of it all. Besides, it’s just the preface to the way he’ll break you down to an unintelligible, fucked out mess later before going to sleep. 

R - Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

God, yes. Please. Please experiment with this man. 

Din wants to learn. He’s certain there are things he likes that he just has never thought about before. So Din will 100% sit you down and have a long talk about your hard and soft limits, what you want to try and what he wants to try. Is his dick hard the entire time he listens to you stutter out your fantasies? Absolutely. 

Din jumps at the chance to try new things, but again - he won’t risk genuinely harming you. Ever. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself. 

S - Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Din can go for hours. What better is there to do in the endless, boring hours of flying through hyperspace? In the time it takes for him to get hard again, Din is between your thighs and pulling those heavenly sounds from you, stringing you along in the tortuous space between pleasure and overstimulation. 

Din can and will edge himself just to see how many times he can make you cum on his cock. So he can last hours, if he really applies his long-honed self control. 

T - Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

When you bring up toys for the first time, Din is immediately worried that he isn’t pleasing you enough, but once you reassure him that that isn’t the case at all, he’s game to try. And the first time he sees you trembling with a vibe against your clit, he’s hooked. 

Din doesn’t really care for toys he would use on himself. He’d much rather bury himself in you than some silicone. 

U - Unfair (how much they like to tease)

King of Mandalore? More like the King of Teasing. 

Din loves edging you, over and over again, until you’ve flown past begging and landed directly on frustrated and demanding. He loves seeing the hard edge of annoyance fall from your face into absolute bliss when he finally, finally lets you cum. 

V - Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Din mostly gives these low grunts and groans. They’re all rumbly and have molten pleasure pooling in your belly. 

The closer he gets to finishing, the more Din is gasping against your skin. Every sound he makes becomes breathier, lighter. Din cums with a strangled gasp, usually right in your ear because he knows how much you love it. 

W - Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Din is an absolutely cocky little shit. He loves showing you off. He leaves marks in highly visible places just so that everyone knows you’re his. Honestly, he can’t help it. You’re just so pretty, he doesn’t want anyone who looks at you to think they have a chance. 

He sits in booths in cantinas with his thighs spread like the drama king he is and pats his thigh for you to sit on. You always roll your eyes, but indulge him anyway. 

X - X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Din’s dick is a work of art and I refuse to believe otherwise. Uncut, eight inches long, and thick. Slightly curved upwards, perfect for grinding against your g-spot as he fucks the life out of you. 

His shoulders are broad, his chest strong and toned. There’s a slight pudge to his belly that he used to be kind of insecure about until he saw how much you love it. 

Y - Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Din is a once a day at least kinda guy. Usually before bed because it helps both of you sleep and he loves the feeling of you cuddling up to him and slowly drifting off into a blissed out, peaceful sleep.

His max is three, though. He isn’t twenty anymore, his dick doesn’t get hard at the slightest change in the wind like it used to. But he will use his mouth and fingers on you literally whenever you want.  

Z - Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Within fifteen minutes, Din is out. He gives you all of his attention for as long as he can, even when his eyes are drooping and he’s snuggling into you. 

Unless you need him of course. If you need to talk about something, anything, he’s sitting up so he can be entirely sure he’s awake and listening.

[uchihashisuii]

Pls more of bottom shisui ;)

I see you are a simp of culture as well 😩👌

NSFW ahead

reader's gender is kept unspecified

content warning for fingering, anal, light dom/sub + a wee bit of dirty talk and spit kink

requests are open!

Shisui is a tease, a flirt; a wonderfully outgoing thorn in your side. He loves to use his words and his touch to get a rise out of you, especially in front of all your friends. But when you get home -

sometimes, it's been a long day. Shisui's been teasing you all damn day; running his fingers down your spine, palm curving over your hip. his mouth pressed close to your ear, whispering the things he wants to do to you

"bet we could sneak away without anyone noticing. I'll get on my knees for you, sweetheart."

sometimes, you want to cut your outing with friends short

he wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. your hand moves down his back, fingers dipping just below the waistline of his pants to tease at the curve of his ass

he knows without asking -he's always been frighteningly good at deciphering your desire just from eye contact alone- that you want him, eager and begging below you

sometimes, you just need to sink your teeth into him

you barely make it inside before you're on him. his hand fists in your hair, making you hiss against his mouth. you can feel his cock, hard and weeping already, pressing against you

"bed," is all you say, and shisui can do nothing but nod

-

he lays on his back, watching you through lidded eyes dark with desire

kneeling between his legs, you offer nothing but a smile as you work his shaft with clever fingers

he's losing ground, has been since you started touching him. his thighs flex, swallowing thickly. he's still smirking, though you can see the clench of his stomach every time you tighten your fist around him

that just won't do

"show me," you breathe, tone low enough that his cock stiffens further in your hand. "show me how bad you want it."

he licks his lips, sparing a single thought before he's planting his feet on the bed. knees bent, thighs spread. his face heats in a blush, but still his hands move to his ass, spreading himself open so you can see his eager hole

you hum, pleased, and finally take his cock into your mouth. and you make it messy, just the way he likes it; soaking his cock with your spit, using your hand to spread it down his shaft. drool leaking from your lips, dripping down his balls and gliding down to his ass

shisui groans your name, hips bucking forward and hands clenching on his cheeks

he's thick and heavy on your tongue, a part of you wanting to have him finish down your throat. but there's a pulse deep in your core, desire threatening to burn you from the inside

your hand is still slick from your messy blowjob, the tip of a finger sliding easily through the cleft of his ass and catching on his hole

his back arches nearly off the bed, gasping your name in a way that makes you grin

he's ready for it, so fucking desperate for you to ruin him. you tease him mercilessly, swirling your finger and licking up his shaft

you watch his face -his eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched so hard it must be painful- until the exact moment you know he's about to break. his mouth opens, and whether he's about to speak your name or a plea you'll never know

your wet finger slides inside him, and all his sense is lost

he's begging already, poor thing. "I need you inside me, sweetheart. need more, need you -"

you work him open eagerly, fucking him with two fingers as you suck on the head of his cock. he parts for you so easily that you're almost dizzy; your own arousal at how bad he wants you combined with the breathless moans he offers is a heady combination

your fingers scissor inside him as you pull your mouth off his cock. "that's it," you whisper, "relax for me, open up, just like that -"

he bucks his hips at your encouragement, mouth dropped open. your smile turns wicked. "good boy."

he's panting out your name, ass clenching around your fingers. he starts to beg for it, in broken moans that makes you bite your lip, and you finally pull away to give him what you both want

impatient, you hurriedly lube yourself up before pressing against his fluttering hole. Shisui catches your eye just as you grasp his shaft, working your fist up and down

he nods his assent, and you push yourself inside him just as your palm tightens around the head of his cock

he practically keens, throwing his head back and jolting his hips forward. he's beautiful in his submission, hair falling messily across his forehead and mouth open in a silent cry

by the time you're bottomed out inside him, you're both a panting mess. a part of you wants to take it slow, see how long you can drag this out

but fuck, he's been teasing you all day. you need to give him payback for that

you pull out of him gently, testing the glide, before slamming yourself back into him. he meets your every thrust, lip caught between his teeth as your fist tightens around his cock, jerking him to the same rhythm

leaning over him, you press a kiss to his sweat-dampened forehead. "You're such a good boy, taking me so well."

he stutters out your name at the praise, catching your eye as your thrusts increase. his hands move to grasp you by the hips, pulling you as close as he can

you know he's on the edge when his sharingan spins to life, capturing the look on your face and the way your hand moves lightning-quick between your bodies, working his cock

you offer a final smirk as you rub the pad of your thumb over the leaking slit of his cock, arching your back just so so that you easily brush over that sweet spot inside him, making him cry out

you can see his abdomen clench, see the way his muscles tense and know he's moments away. you brush your mouth over his in a soft kiss, and whisper against his lips -

"come for me, love."

shisui tenses beneath you, before he suddenly melts into the bed. his hips stutter forward, chasing sensation and friction and the feel of you buried deep inside him, as he spills himself over your fingers

his breath comes in gasps, face flushed red. he is utterly debauched, and you can't suppress the feeling of power; you did this, you make him desperate, you make him come. no one else.

you keep thrusting into him, slower this time, until he's writhing and begging and staring up at you with glazed eyes and a desperate expression

maybe next time he won't tease you quite so much

[spongebob-connoisseur]

What are your thoughts on the Birthday special?

I had to rewrite this because tumblr deleted my answer like 3 times. I hate this shit app but here we go aaaagain.

I really adored it because it introduced us to Slappy my beloved💗🌸💗🌸💗🌷💗🌷💕💖🌸💗🌷🌷🌸💗💕💗🌸🌷💗🌷💕💗💕🌷🌸

My heart beats for youuuuu✨

Jk jk but I do remember my initial reaction to him was basically "tf is that thing" oh how times have changed.

Spongebob's Big Birthday Blowout is easily the superior anniversary special. Truth or square kinda sucked ass (no offense to the people who enjoyed it tho) When Patchy said he hoped to see us again for the 20th anniversary special, my 9 year old self was like "you better because WHAT WAS THAT"

anyways they well delivered with this special.

I really enjoyed this episode, it was amazing because you don't see SB and friends interact wirh the human world. Yeah they've been to the human world surface for the SB movies but often times just for a mission. They never had a chance to really interact and explore with the human world which is what makes this special so enticing. The bikini bottom is a reclusive world with no contact with the outside so its their first time encountering human culture and contact. Like aliens in a way.

Its also really amusing that they're getting wrong information from the tour guide since it shows how fish folk makes sense of things they don't quite understand about the surface world. It's just guesses, even though those guesses are very wrong.

Also I've really grown to like Rube. He's AMAZING✨

It was also very cute how the tour bus trip is just Sponge and Patrick. We need more episodes of their friendship!!

I also think it takes place from the fishes's POV and the human world isn't that weird. There probably isn't a gorilla mask office meeting😔

That's just how they make sense of the hustle and bustle of the human world. Which is a bit obvious enough. Either that or this is an alternate reality where the weirdness properties of random land leaked into the human world as well.

Anyways shout out to can-o beans. A true icon.

Oh also this episode raises the morality question of if its ethical to own fish. Probably as a joke but it was unusual. I actually wanted to talk about it! In the episode Feral Friends, Neptune's moon turns the fish folk of the bikini bottom into less evolved versions of themselves which is pretty much the realistic versions of fish in the wild. In SB's Big Birthday Blowout, they end up at a place that sells pet fish, those fish also look really realistic. Which was basically like encountering a horror show for the fish in the tour bus. They recognize the fish in the tanks as their own people. Despite looking different. Patrick even has a crush on one of them. How does that work??? I have a lot of questions about that scene. I'll dig into it another time.

The Trusty Slab is the best part of the episode. They are exactly the SB characters. Tom Kenny really embodies Spongebob (which is obvious since he's been playing this character since before I was born) This is the most acceptable Humanbob out there. Nothing can top this. The energy is unmatched.

Same goes for all the characters. It's kinda funny how the voice actors all kinda look like their characters. Rodger Bumpass looks like Squidward. it's too funny to unsee.

Also Charlton (human Plankton) is adorable and the icing on the cake! Trying to rob the Trusty Slab but failing. This wouldn't be complete without Plankton. Though I wish Karen could have been there too :(

Though how would human Karen work? Why am I imagining one of those AI gf app thingies. That's a terrifying thought.

B plot for this episode is where a lot of the flaws come in. It falls pretty flat because it's just Sandy dealing with people fighting and causing a mess for the party which gets old fast. I liked seeing everyone's different ideas for the party and certainly they'd disagree but often times it feels like it's only Sandy holding this party together and dragging everyone around since they're so nonfunctional. Sandy deserved better.

I did enjoy the fact that they brought back old characters whether nonverbal or whatever. The guy from rock bottom, the whale from ripped pamts. Even princess Mindy! I wish they brought back Stanley though. There was a lot of guest stars in this episode too! Though unlike Truth or Square, they don't take much of a huge focus of the story. If you notice them then its just a fun thing to see. If you don't then you didn't really miss anything.

Spongebob's parents also wondered about Spange's huge array of friends. They barely know their own son lol

Regardless of the B plot, the episode was still really enjoyable. When spongebob came back from the trip and the end of the episode where they sing happy birthday to him was so so adorable!! They even redid the theme song just for his birthday! I love it!

Oh also! It was so satisfying to see Patchy meet spongebob. I've waited my whole life for this. But it does raise a question. Patchy is a spongebob (the tv show) super fan. Patchy actually got to visit spongebob (the character) so in universe there's both a show and the real character existing at the same time? I feel like this would fit into skin theory 🤔

This episode was such a joy to watch. They didn't reveal spongebob's age but we know it since his birthday was revealed on his drivers license. He's getting old. this episode actually aired the day before SB's actual birthday. Mainly to avoid it conflating with Bastille Day for international releases. But that also means this episode aired on Tom Kenny's birthday. Think of it as a birthday present to the irl spange. I think that's just a neat fact to share.

I'd love to hear your thoughts on the special too!

[khizuo]

I’ve always seen fandom spaces as a sort of escapism and ccs as solely entertainers it kinda confuses me the internet culture of like expecting these people to do activism when they’re job is to be entertaining and makes us laugh I mean we’re supposed to enjoy their content and that’s it so it’s rather strange to me that we expect them to address very serious real world issues when their content is like joking around with their friends while playing Minecraft

I’m really sorry I’m not saying that the way the fandom treats poc ccs shouldn’t be address or that it doesn’t matter it’s just that I don’t think we have the right to demand activism out of ccs when their job as entertainers is so far removed from real world issues

Fandom spaces are absolutely escapism, but I think we still can and should be critical of them because media is still absolutely a deeply entrenched part of our real world and mcyt even more so than traditional media. I’m still watching white boys as escapism! And y’all can too. 

The last thing I want from the white cc’s is performative activism in order to look good. Their little tweets about BLM last year? Textbook performative activism. Not a fan of that. But I do want them and the fandom to stop being complicit in their white privilege — primarily through thoroughly recognizing their privilege and educating themselves. My posts were more about how poc are constantly ignored in the community, both creators of color and fans of color. I deleted the parts where I said that the creators should “support poc” (although I know they are still circulating unfortunately) because I felt that that could have connotations of white saviourism. As you said — I want conversation. I want change on a wider scale.

And while I don’t expect the cc’s to ‘do activism’ I think that if they educated themselves it would leak out in their content anyways. Like. Imagine if the cc’s educated themselves on anti-Semitism and the alt-right pipeline and stopped praising P*wdiepie. Imagine if they stopped just letting Schlatt run around making all his racist jokes. Imagine if they stopped trying to suck up to Mr. Beast’s wealth. Imagine if the cc’s took a hard stance against alt-right circles in the gaming community. Remember that time when Wilbur was all like, “I don’t think there should be billionaires and also we should stop hating teenage girls for everything they do”? Imagine if more cc’s had that energy. Wilbur is far, far from revolutionary but at least he’s not terrified by the concept of politics and educating himself. The bar is on the floor here. (Also mans is center-left imagine if we radicalized him haha) Imagine if we educated cc’s on mutual aid funds instead of charity lollll these pipe dreams of mine are getting wild

The cc’s can be entertainers, but I’m personally of the opinion that they would be better entertainers if they educated themselves on these issues because they’re not entertainers that exist in a vacuum. I’m not going all ‘cancel culture’ on them but I’m also saying that the cc’s are not divorced from the real world. I don’t want them to go performative activism on our asses but I want them to genuinely educate themselves and I think that starts with conversation in the fandom.

[mxndoscyarika]

Red Sunsets (Javier Peña x Chinese!reader) | Chapter 6: Igualdad

Author’s note: It’s finally here! Sorry this took waaaaay longer than normal, it’s not even very long either 😭 But I hope you like it! This is a filler chapter to transition towards the good stuff, if you know what I mean 😏

Summary: Family fights, grudges, and determination. Those three things defined your journey as you navigated through the workings of the DEA. Getting in was hard, and catching Escobar was even harder. You joined Javier Peña and Steve Murphy in the hunt for Escobar, forming bonds and life lessons along the way.

Like my writing? Here’s my masterlist.

Red Sunsets masterlist 

Warning(s): smoking, gun violence, explosions, swearing, smut (fingering, penetration)

“Do you see anything yet?” you asked, fingers playing with the edge of the map. Messina refused to let you join in on the mission, so you worked with what you had. Sitting in a darkened room listening to incoming messages on a headset wasn’t exactly invigorating or productive, but it was enough to keep you focused on what mattered. Javier and a few of Carrillo’s men were heading into a neighborhood reported to house several of Escobar’s men. Centra Spike had gathered enough intel to pinpoint a block or two with high activity, and the accounts given supported the data, so the mission was green-lit.

Steve sat beside you with his own headset, a cigarette balanced between his fingers. Whether he was paying attention or not, you didn’t know. All you knew was that you didn’t need two agents monitoring calls.

“Not yet,” Javi responded, his deep voice crackling from the static. “Relax, hermosa, there’s barely anyone out in the street.”

You frowned. “Cariño, that’s a bad s-”

The sound of gunfire cut you off, the sounds of bullets raining down on the street roaring in your ears like torrential rainfall. Shouts between Carrillo’s men and Javi were drowned out by the barrage of bullets.

“Shit!” Javi hissed, his voice clearer. “It’s a trap! We need backup, they’re on the rooftop-”

Something nearby exploded, metal screeching against the pavement. A car? It was loud, far too loud to be safe for your partner. You flung off the headset, ears ringing. “I’m going in.”

“Oh no you’re not,” Steve said, grabbing your arm. “We can’t risk any more of us going out there. I’ll call for backup so we can get them out.” He pointed to the headset. “Stay here and stay updated on their status. Peña listens to you; make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

Gritting your teeth, you nodded and stalked back to the desk. The chair creaked under your weight when you practically threw yourself onto it  and snatched up the headset. “Javi, are you there? Javi, do you copy?”

The seconds that ticked by felt like hours, but then you heard his voice. “I’m here,” he rasped, breathing heavily. “One of the sicarios is out. I’m in pursuit.”

Your eyes widened. “Javi no-”

The steady crackling of the radio stopped. You sighed and tossed the headset back onto the desk. He was on his own.

Rubbing your hands over your face, you leaned back in the chair and kept listening for any signal from Javi. You considered going back to your desk and continuing on with the reports, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave the room. What if Javi called for help and no one was there to answer?

Hours passed since the radio went dead. Or had it only been a few minutes? You weren’t sure. When Carrillo called in to announce that they were arriving at the station, you forced yourself to leave the headset behind and greet them. Maybe Javi wasn’t responding because he was with Carrillo.

You winced as you walked out the front doors, the sun much too bright for someone who’d just spent at least an hour in a dark room. Blinking to adjust to the light, you jogged over to where the cars were parked.

“Dónde está Peña?” you asked, your heart vibrating in your chest. Your eyes scanned the vehicles for his familiar sunglasses, mustache, lips, anything. If he wasn’t with Carrillo, then where was he? Dragged behind a trash can on some random street? Collapsed on the roof of a comuna? In the hospital, just like you were only a couple months prior?

“Está con los otros, él capturó un sicario y vuelvan ahora,” the colonel replied smoothly, taking out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He smirked at you. “Are you worried about him?”

Uncrossing your arms, you give him one last glance before turning around and returning to the office. You heard him scoff behind you.

You shot up from your seat when Javi entered your shared office, heat blooming in your chest. He stopped as you approached him, a hand resting on his hip. Ignoring how his gaze followed you, you raised your hand and turned his head to the side. There was a scrape on his cheek, probably from when the explosion occurred. Thankfully, it seemed shallow and wasn’t bleeding. “Doesn’t look too bad. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, hermosa-”

“What were you thinking?” you scolded, hands searching for any other injuries. While he didn’t get hurt often, you wanted to make sure he wasn’t hiding anything. You’d learned that the hard way a few weeks prior when he’d hit his head and got a concussion. “You need to think before you act, Javi. You can’t just run off on your own.”

“Pretty bold of you to say that as the one who got shot because she went after La Quica,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“That’s different,” you retorted, brushing your thumb over a scratch on the back of his hand. Specks of dirt were still embedded in his skin. You’d find some ointment for him to help it heal faster.

His voice was rough as he questioned, “How is it different? Why should I hold back for you when you won’t do the same for me?”

“You know why,” you replied, looking him in the eyes. There was a tightness in your chest as you tried to take a breath, like someone had a hand around your heart. In a way, there was.

“Enlighten me, agent L/N.”

The sound of your title passing through his lips nearly made you flinch. You couldn’t recall the last time you’d heard him call you by your last name. Or ‘agent,’ for that matter. It was always something like hermosa, or princesa, or cariño. You weren’t sure when it started, but it felt more natural than anything else.

You wanted to tell him. To tell him that you would miss him, that he was the only person who truly respected you. That he was the only person you’d ever met who embraced your culture with open arms and understood it was an asset, not a weakness. That he’d become a part of your life you didn’t want to lose. That he was more than just a DEA agent.

But it wasn’t the right time nor place for that.

Clenching your jaw shut, you tore your eyes away from his and dropped his hands from yours. Placing your hands on your hips, you forced your voice to be level. “You’re important to this mission. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

“So that’s it?” he asked, grabbing your arm before you could go beyond his reach. Even then, his touch was gentle. “I get killed and the entire operation collapses, but if you die then we just keep moving along?”

You shrugged. “Sounds about right. Be careful out there, agent Peña.”

With that, you shook off his hand and stalked off to find Carrillo.

Steve took a long drag from his cigarette as he watched the exchange, as he watched Javier’s shoulders sag when you walked away. They were fools. Such fools.

---

You weren’t sure how you found him, or why you chose him. All you knew was that you needed him more than ever.

The feeling of a man’s fingers inside you made you moan loudly. Your back arched against the bed. His fingers were thick and strong, much like Javier’s. A shiver ran down your spine as your partner’s name ran through your thoughts. If only it were him instead of the man you’d brought home.

The man groaned as you clenched tightly around him, Javi’s beautiful face painted on the inside of your eyelids. You wanted to feel his mustache brush against your thighs as he kissed his way closer to your aching pussy. You wanted to feel his soft lips suck on your wet folds and lap against your swollen clit. You wanted him. All of him. Since arriving in Colombia, you’d spent countless nights imagining his touch, sending yourself over the edge until your fingers pruned up and your mind was filled with girlish fantasies of your partner.

“Yes, yes, right there,” you cried, hips bucking up in time with his fingers. Cream leaked from your lips as you approached your orgasm. Deeper, deeper, you begged. “Más. Más! Jódeme!”

His finger sped up, curing  against the spongy region inside you fast and hard. The pressure became too much, and you smiled as you imagined Javi’s deep brown eyes watching you intently. You tightened around the man’s digits as you reached your release, your juices gushing onto his hand. “Javi!”

On the other side of the city, the man of your dreams parked his car outside a brothel. He could still see the way you glared at him, how your brows furrowed and your beautiful lips turned down. You rarely got angry, and normally it wasn’t directed at him. So why did you?

Javi shook his head and entered the building, his soft brown locks falling into his face. He needed to get you out of his head before he did anything stupid.

You deserved a good man. Someone better than him, someone less reckless and damaged.

As he pounded into the woman below him, he closed his eyes and imagined your face, your lips. He’d only seen glimpses of your body, but just the image of you in the red slip was enough. He could see the peaks of your nipples straining against weak fabric, sensitive and begging to be touched. He imagined how beautiful you’d sound as you reached your peak, arching against him and pulling him deeper into you.

It was enough.

You were enough.

“Fuck, Y/N!” he gasped, his hips stuttering as he came. The woman—María?—moaned languidly beneath him, her cunt pulsing around him as he continued thrusting into her. His hand made contact with her ass, the supple flesh bouncing when he smacked it. Her pussy tightened around him, milking him dry. Javi wondered if you would do the same, if you’d ride  him until he was covered in a pool of his and your cum. The thought of you cumming around his cock sent him over the edge again.

Translations:

“Dónde está Peña?” Where is Peña?

“Está con los otros, él capturó un sicario y vuelvan ahora” He’s with the others, he caught the sicario and they’re returning now.

“Más. Más! Jódeme!” More! More! Fuck me!

Tagging:

Permanent taglist: @cinewhore​ @randomness501​ @pedropascalisadilf​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ @catfishingmorales​ @halfwaythereroyal​ @fioccodineveautunnale​ @talesfromtheguild​ @tortles​ @ladamari68​ @theokatcov @snivellusim​ @starryluce​ @inked-poet​ @this-cat-is-dea​ @shewritesandplants​ @chews-erotically​ @thefandomimagines​ @emesispo​ @mindless--ramblings​

Red Sunsets taglist: @engineeredfiction​ @reylo-hope​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @geistbuster​ @far-too-tired-to-exist​ @faiinal​ @promiscuoussatan​ @thewaythisis​ @earl-01​

Let me know if you’d like to be added to either of the lists!

[dark-wicked-marvel-fics]

Pushing His Luck

Bucky X Reader! 

WARNINGS! Extreme Non-Con, Violence, Roofies, Kidnapping, Dark Bucky, Somnophilia. This is a really dark fic so please don’t read if that isn’t your kind of thing. 

“You had no idea that Bucky Barnes wanted you, you had no idea about the thoughts he had about you, the dirty fantasies you starred in. But you were about to make them come true anyway.”

Chapter One

“Hey doll, could you look at this for me?” Bucky asked with a hopeful expression, holding his phone out.

 You smiled kindly and leaned across your desk to look at the nonsense article on the screen. It was some pop culture stuff he pretended not to understand and while your eyes skimmed the article, his eyes drank in the spectacular view of your cleavage.

“It’s about this movie everyone loves, The Princess Bride. It’s full of memorable quotes that people use all the time. You should watch it, it’s really good.” You told him.

 “Thanks sweetheart, I know I’ve been out of the ice a while but I can’t seem to catch up with everything.” He said, ducking his head and laughing at himself.

 “You’ll get there Sarge.” You encouraged him.

 “Yeah, thanks Doll.”

  It had started out innocently enough, this obsession he had with you. When he had first met you, he was still a bit reserved and hadn’t been able to talk to you much so he would just watch you from afar. Over time his confidence grew, as did his obsession. He could chat away with you easily now, but there was something satisfying about you not knowing about his crush, his lingering looks. You mistook his little touches as accidental brushes and it sent a thrill through him every time.

 He would reach for something on the self above you in the kitchen while you were cooking and press his crotch into you ass for just a second and you’d blush so prettily and pretend it didn’t happen and he’d spent the next hour in his room with his fist wrapped around his cock. You had such a gorgeous ass, he loved thinking about smacking it till it was all pink and then he’d want to cum all over the marked globes.

 One he reached for something at the dinner table, looking straight ahead you wouldn’t know he’d brushed your breast by accident. Your breath had hitched but you had ignored it, ducking your head and concentrating on your food. That night he’d spent close to an hour in the shower jerking himself off, wondering what it would feel like to squeeze them together with his cock wedged between them. When he came on the shower tile with a groan, his eyes were closed and he was imagining shooting his load all over your tits.

 And the time he’d ‘playfully’ wrestled you for the remote control, the way you’d wriggled and struggled underneath him was so fucking hot he’d had to let you win before you felt how hard he was getting. Not that you hadn’t felt how hard he was before. He’d managed to step forward at just the right moment once while you were reaching for something behind you and your palm had brushed across his fully erect cock beneath his jeans. He’d stammered and apologised, saying it just happened sometimes and you’d been bright red. You’d apologised for days and he’d loved it.

  He decided he needed to do something a little riskier than look today, he was hard as a rock and needed something to get him off. He wandered around the compound looking for you, thinking about what he was going to do when he found you… Maybe he’d pretend to have a clumsy moment and trip into you. If he angled it right he could probably get his face near those gorgeous breasts you kept covered under your blouses. But fate was for once, smiling down on him because when he found you, you were fast asleep in the common room.

 Tony let you have a room on site because you worked such long hours and you must have wandered in here to watch a movie but passed out halfway through. You were alone but there were camera’s everywhere and he wanted to play it safe anyway. Scooping you up in his arms he carried you bridal style back to your room. You stirred but didn’t wake, you must be tired and he had made sure not to jostle you too much.

 You were so soft and warm and you smelled amazing. As he kicked your door open he noticed something that had his heart beating erratically in his chest. Beneath the soft material of your t-shirt he could see two stiff peaks. You weren’t wearing a bra, just a loose fitting top. He set you down on your bed very gently and waited a few moments to make sure your breathing didn’t change.

 He used his well honed assassin skills to quickly snoop around your room while he waited to make sure you were sleeping deeply, his engorged cock rubbing uncomfortably against his boxers in his jeans. He opened the top drawer of your dresser, correctly deducing it was your underwear drawer. He bit his lip to stifle a moan when he saw the collection of lace and silk. He hadn’t pictured you wearing such scandalous underwear but he very much approved. He picked up a pair of black lace French briefs and pressed to soft material to his face, rubbing it across his lips. They were perfect. He stuffed them into his pocket and turned back to you.

  Something interesting caught his eye and he realized you’d laid out your outfit for tomorrow across the back of a chair. Including your underwear, a simple pair and baby pink silk briefs. He carefully picked them up and shoved them down the front of his jeans, rubbing the material across the swollen head of his cock before he put them back on the pile.

 Now for the main event… Your breathing was even and deep and you didn’t even stir as he knelt on the bed next to you. His fingers carefully lifted the shirt and dragged it upwards, exposing your stomach inch by inch until the curve of the bottom of your breasts peeked out from under the material. He forced himself to remain calm as he pulled the top up to your collarbone, almost cuming at the sight of your rosy nipples. He salivated as they were exposed and before he could think about what he was doing he leant down and pressed a chaste kiss to bud of your right nipple.

 You barely stirred and he flicked his tongue out, tasting the tender flesh. Your breath hitched a little but you still didn’t wake and feeling braver than ever and wild with desire he closed his mouth around the peak and sucked on it. His could feel the pre-cum staining his boxers as you moaned softly in your sleep and stirred. He regretfully released you and sat back. You settled down again and he silently pulled his phone out of his pocket and making sure the flash and shutter were off, took a beautiful picture of your exposed tits, one nipple still damp with his spit.

 He had hit the jackpot and didn’t want to push his luck any further so he sadly pulled your top back down and slipped out of the room.

 As soon as he shut his own door behind himself he was unzipping his jeans and had his cock in his hand before he even sat down in the nearest chair. He wrapped his fist around his shaft and used his other hand to prop the phone on the coffee table, the high resolution image of your boobs glowing on the screen. He pumped furiously with one hand, pulling your stolen panties out of his pocket with the other. He used his thumb to rub pre-cum around his red, swollen, leaking tip while he gleefully though of you pulling your pink panties on in the morning.

 It didn’t take long for him to reach the peak of his orgasm, thinking of how your nipple had felt under his tongue and he shot thick, ropey spurts of semen onto your pilfered panties with a loud groan.

 He was spent and satisfied for now but he couldn’t help but think. He’d gotten away with so much tonight… How much more could he get away with?

[wri0thesley]

we’ve been talking about hatesex recently in my self-ship server and i op, my finger slipped--

Subterfuge - Fem Reader x Prosciutto

warnings: not sfw, unsafe sex, hate sex, slurs. an unhealthy relationship, though that’s a given! afab reader, fem pronouns. 3k.

Your lip twists in frustration as Prosciutto looms over you, his own features contorted in anger, one of his hands slapping hard on the wall above where he’s gotten you pinned. There’s a fleck of blood on his forehead, above his eyebrow, but you’re not going to point that out - not when his mouth is spitting vitriol at you and there’s a vein his throat pulsing in time to the angry cadence of his words. You jut your chin out defiantly.

“--So stupid! Could have gotten us both killed, you’re always running into danger instead of stepping back and assessing the situation like you’re supposed to, if I hadn’t been here you’d be fucking mincemeat, idiota--”

“Well, if you’d act on impulse for once in your life instead of standing back and trying to do your bullshit analysing, maybe he wouldn’t have gotten away from us--” You hiss back, frustration bubbling in your chest, your entire body hot with righteous indignation. Prosciutto is absolutely always on your ass; pulling you up about silly things like improper handling of your gun and your stand not being quite precise enough and the way you speak to Risotto (that one always gets him; mafia culture is ingrained into his very fabric of being, and the fact that some of his team members are so casual with the capo of La Squadra di Esecuzioni seems to cause him physical pain). He will not leave you alone!

It’s not in the same way that he won’t leave Pesci alone - to Pesci, he’s encouraging but stern. To you, he’s just a pain in the rear end. Pesci gets told ‘good job!’ and ‘I knew you’d be fine!’ and ‘I know you can do it’ - you get told ‘idiota’ and ‘you’re a disgrace’ and, often: ‘you’d have been killed where you stood if I wasn’t here to bail you out like always!’

It’s bullshit he gets to be so nice to look at when everything that spills out of his mouth is awful to the highest degree. You’ll sometimes catch a glance of him out of the corner of your eye; adjusting his ascot, running his fingers through his hair, biting his lip so his overbite is even more prominent as he works - and your heart will do a funny little flutter. Then, of course, he’ll say something utterly heinous and your blood will boil and you think that you’d be better off if you never had to see him again in your life. 

“We don’t get where we are by acting on impulse!” He slams his other hand against the wall in punctuation of his words, caging you between his arms. His eyebrows are furrowed and his lips are pursed and his eyes are burning hot and bright in the dim light of the alleyway. “If you can’t learn the art of patience and subterfuge, stupida puttana, maybe you’re not cut out for this line of work!”

“Maybe you should try telling that to Risotto!” You snap back. “He clearly thinks I’m cut out for it, despite the fact you’re out here telling him I’m a liability at every turn--”

“You’re infuriating!” He hisses, bending his head so that his face is closer to yours. Your body goes hot, your face flushing - and you hope that Prosciutto thinks it’s from incandescent rage instead of anything more flattering to his already massive ego. 

“Says you!” You spit back, which isn’t exactly the most witty of comebacks - but, of course, you’re not quite in the right frame of mind to think of anything that’s actually droll. Not when your breath is coming out in short pants, your chest rising and falling, and you can feel Prosciutto’s own chest pressed aggravatingly close against you. 

“I should have let you be killed,” he says, but his eyes are on your mouth instead of on your gaze. “That would have taught you a lesson.”

“A-and missed the chance to gloat to Risotto about how you saved my skin?” You say, breathlessly. “You’re never able to turn down a chance to massage your ego, Prosh--”

The nickname falls mocking from your lips, and something in Prosciutto snaps. His mouth bares teeth, a noise like a growl as he moves one of the hands caging you to roughly jerk your chin up. His eyes glitter bright and dangerous, his body close enough that you can scent his woodsy aftershave on the air and you can see that there are shadows beneath his eyes, a tiredness not hidden by ruthlessly sharp cheekbones and immaculate hair. 

“You need to learn to shut up, troia--” He says - and then he’s kissing you. 

You two get back to the hideout - a shitty little hotel room with two single beds and a leaking roof - in what seems like minutes, the heat of what Prosciutto had done radiating off of you both, the unspoken promise of what’s to come hanging in the air. He’s no gentler with you on the way back than he ever is - barking out commands, grabbing your wrists and pulling you to get you to move quicker, glaring at you when you stumble (his legs are longer than yours and you’re slow) - but he’s heated, desperate, the weight of what’s going to happen rolling off him in waves. 

When he’s locked the door behind you, you’re barely given a moment to breathe before you’re knocked against the wall again, your cheek pressing into yellowed wallpaper. One of Prosciutto’s hands presses against your hip, the rest of him pressing against your back - and a hardness digging into the softness of your ass as he grinds into you with a sibilant hiss of;

“Don’t think me doing this means I like you.”

“I wouldn’t want to think that,” you gasp back, your body prickling with heat, as the hand on your hip travels over you, your thigh and your ass and then his other hand is moving and squeezes your breast roughly through the thin material of the neat blouse you’re wearing. Prosciutto’s touch is heated but practised - and when he pulls on your hair, you’re helpless to do anything but let him bare your throat with breathless anticipation. 

“Pathetic,” he sneers, but lips and teeth worry into your bared throat even so, and before you know it you’re being pulled away from the wall so that he can get you out of your clothes. His hands are clearly used to the buttons and hooks and zippers of a woman’s outfit; he wastes no time in ripping your blouse from you, discarding it on the floor like trash. He wastes no time in tugging off your skirt. He wastes no time in caging your body beneath him on one of the shitty single beds, bed springs poking into your back. You can’t think of the bed springs and the creaking mattress, though - not when Prosciutto is rearing up onto his knees and his clever fingers are tugging at his ascot, pulling it off and tossing it aside, careful to make sure it lands on the other bed and not the filthy floor. . 

“You might be desperate for me,” he sneers down at you, “But I’ve still got a modicum of class. Who knows. The dirt might improve your outfit.”

“That’s rich coming from the man who couldn’t wait to get them off me,” you bite back at him, and you rear up from underneath him to tear at the buttons of his shirts and finely tailored jacket. 

He growls in the back of his throat again, and before you know it you’re both tussling, the clothes slipping off Prosciutto’s lithe but muscled shoulders - he’s littered with scars, but as you run your fingers through the neatly combed hair to dishevel it and you drag your nails down his back hard enough to make him hiss through his teeth, you’re not thinking about that. You’re thinking about how fucking gorgeous he is when he’s been mussed up a bit, and how it really is unfair that he’s such a goddamn asshole. 

“Whore,” he hisses, ripping at your bra as he bares your breasts.

“Bastard!” You reply, tugging on his hair so that you can worry your teeth into the pulse point at the side of his neck, sucking and biting a blooming purple bruise into his skin. 

“Slut--” he says, as he shoves his knee in between your thighs and rips at your underwear, uncaring of the sound of delicate lace tearing. “You’re wet for me, puttana--”

“You’re hard for me--” You retort, as you feel stiffness press against your full thigh, radiating heat. You can’t resist taunting him, as you swallow around dryness in your throat and the realisation that the persistent ache of heat low in your body is all for him. “What, you’ve been thinking about how much you want to fuck me even as you’ve been telling me I’m a worthless disgrace? It’s shameful how quickly you got me underneath you. Anyone would think that you wanted this all along.”

He grabs a hank of your hair, sliding backwards at the same time as he yanks you up, his face contorting into something both mean and lovely in its ferocious intensity. 

“I should shut your smart mouth up,” he growls, pulling on your hair to get you to move your head towards his cock, freed from expensive looking silken underwear. He’s painfully hard, the tip of his cock ruddy in his hand and beading with pre-come. 

(His cock is just as pretty as he is; not too thick, but not too thin. A slight upward curve. It makes you sick with both disgust and want.)

“What’s wrong?” He jeers. “Intimidated?”

“By that?” You ask, your eyes flashing, and you open your mouth defiantly and drag your tongue against the slit, lapping up the hot salty taste of him and taking a kind of bitter pleasure in the hiss that you win from Prosciutto’s mouth. Evidently, he wasn’t expecting you to go at it with much gusto - but you are fired up, the heat inside you getting to a boiling point, and you are nothing if not a petty person. So you use your tongue on him, swirling over the head, sucking on the shaft, your cheeks hollowed out and your tongue lathing the length of him. His hips move against your ministrations almost of their own volition, seeking the tight warmth of your mouth. 

His hand in your hair tightens, pulling on you, trying to make you choke on the span of his cock as he pistons his hips - but instead of choking, you relax your throat and let him fuck into it willingly. He groans at the feeling of the tight opening of your throat snugly accepting his cock, and then his face contorts in frustration at the fact he let you see him enjoying himself. 

He’s gorgeous from this angle too; those prominent front teeth digging into plush lips, that sharp jawline, the way his unbound hair is falling over his forehead in soft waves. 

He lets go of your hair, pushing you back onto the bed, desperately grappling for control of the situation. Neither of you are really in control, now - both of you have pupils blown wide with lust and aches of heat and need deep inside of you, growing stronger and more needful as every moment passes. 

“Couldn’t even make me come with your useless mouth, huh?” He says, but his tone has lost a bit of its venom, wobbling as he tries to regain his dominance. “You’re not even good for that. Who knows why we keep you around.”

“Maybe I’m nicer to look at than you,” you snap, but your hands go to tangle in his hair and pull him down and he lets you draw him into a hungry, angry kiss with no more than token resistance. His own grip goes to your hips, fingers digging into the space where you curve out, your thighs pressing hot and needy and slick with your own want either side of his waist. 

“This is the only position any of us really want to see you in,” he growls. “This is the only one you’re probably any good at, and definitely the only one you’re good for--”

The tip of his cock nudges your clit, silky and searing, the slick glide of your arousal and your saliva from earlier and his own pre-come making the glide effortless against you. You hiss and pant, nails digging into his scalp, mind racing for a witty retort to what Prosciutto has just said--

But then, he’s sinking inside of you, inch by slow, aching inch, and your entire mind goes blank in favour of the way he fills you up clouding every thought you’ve ever had. Prosciutto has gone quiet too, laboured breathing as he enters you, lost in the sensation for a moment of how snugly and tightly and perfectly you and he fit together--

But neither of you are capable of being civil for long, and his hips and aching to drive into you until you’re a babbling mess apologising for everything you’ve ever said to him and telling him you’re good for nothing but taking his cock like this, warm and open and inviting and desperate. And your own body is aching to fight back; to thrust your hips against his in tandem, raking nails down his back and pulling his hair and biting at that porcelain skin until he’s marked all over with the fact that he couldn’t resist fucking the same person he’s been telling for the past few months is utterly useless.

Both of you clash, hips and teeth and tongue and words dropping from heated mouths, lost in the fact that neither of you can finish a syllable without your voices breaking and broken moans and needy whimpers dropping from your lips. You do indeed drag nails down his back and bare your teeth and hiss, your hips returning every one of his thrusts with a sharper one - and, he, too, succeeds in some ways. Your words and sentences are broken, needy things - driven by your desire to have him fuck you so hard you can’t feel your legs, something in which he’s absolutely succeeding. 

The silky glide of his cock inside you. The way his body hits yours at the perfect angle to sink deep inside you and grind against your clit with every deep, needful thrust. The way that his chest feels pressed against your bared breasts. The way your hands tug on his hair while his hands squeeze and knead at your breasts, so hard you know that he’ll leave bruises there tomorrow.

“Ahh--”

“Hhn--”

“Fu-fuck--”

“God--”

Every syllable and broken word and whimpered mess of a moan is nothing but an invitation for him to go faster, rougher, harder - and for you to give back as good as you get. You pull back at one point to see that Prosciutto’s eyes are brighter and more alive than you’ve ever seen them, his cheeks pink, his lips bitten to redness. You know you’re all undone too - your eyes glimmering and your face flushed and your chest heaving. You can see that there’ll be bruises covering his skin tomorrow in the same way there’ll be marks of this night all over you - and the thought of marking him in this way leaves you feeling oddly fulfilled. The knowledge that you can leave a lasting impression of yourself on this arrogant, puffed up, self-important--

He grinds his cock, spearing himself entirely inside of you, against you and you’re brought back to earth with a moan. 

His thrusts seem to be hitting you deeper now, more needily. He plunges himself in the slick depths of your channel, your walls pulsing widely around him, your body making a conscious effort to keep him there and suck him further in and fill you up so well you can’t move - and Prosciutto clearly has enough experience to know what it’s leading up to. One hand sneaks between you both, delving between your silky folds, to find the swollen nub of your clit--

You whimper, hot sparks of pleasure emanating from your core. Your face goes hot. 

“You going to come for me?” He snarls, “After everything you said, you’re going to just come for me like a desperate little bitch?”

You don’t know what he’s doing with his fingers - how the patterns he’s drawing over you and the way his cock is rocking inside of you are mixing together so perfectly that you’re unable to hold on, but all you can do is clench your legs around his waist and your fingers in his hair and wail as your orgasm washes over you in heart-pounding pulses. You might have called out his name, garbled in a mess of ‘fuck’ and ‘yes’ and ‘God--”, but that’s a secret both of you will take to your graves as the fluttering clenching of your walls claims Prosciutto’s attempt to remain dignified and he rocks his hips a final few times without you in a frenzy. You can’t even bring yourself to care that he came inside without checking - it’s fine, but what an asshole, it’s just like him - as you feel hot ropes of his come spill deep into you with every needy flex of his hips. He groans your name as he comes--

But that’s your secret.

He stays inside you, breathing heavy, as both of your orgasms subside, his breathing slowing and some of his flush subsiding. He looks down at you as he pulls out (you wince at the feel of the gush sticky wetness that accompanies that), his face unreadable. You look up at him, too, your chest surging with every gasp. 

“I need a cigarette.” He says, rolling off the bed, and fumbling for the silver cigarette case in his jacket pocket. He hunches over, elbows on knees, as you pull yourself up and look at him. 

He, as you’re sure you do, bears the scars of the tussle you’d had. His hair is in disarray, hanging all over his face and shoulders. Red marks from the scratch of your nails mar his back, as do purple-red bruises where you’d bitten and sucked love bites into his skin. 

“Let’s never talk about this.” You say, after a beat. Prosciutto pauses, before he turns his head, one perfect eyebrow raised and the corner of his mouth curled into a smirk.

“Ah.” He says. “You’re finally learning subterfuge.”

You really hope he didn’t teach Pesci in the same way. 

[bearded-shepherd]

Let’s Talk About The Last of Us Part II Leaks (No Spoilers Just First Game Spoilers)...

So yea, I was extremely pissed seeing TLOU2 get leaked and fuk the leaker for doing so (talk about that later)… HOWEVER, peeps are blowing the plot out of proportion. I read it and I watched some clips and…OK, I expected such but I'm not surprised tho.

But lemme tell you this, I FUKIN LOVE the first game (got me through HS). But any person can see that the first game’s plot was bland, generic, and predictable to all heavens for a post-apocalyptic game.

If you worded TLOU the same way TLOU2 leak was, there would’ve been similar reactions (just not as much cause new IP during that time).

I still enjoyed the first game because of the journey and because of the characters; the plot was a second thought to me.

We all remember that the ending of TLOU sparked a lot of controversies about whether or not Joel did the right thing about not finding a vaccine cause he grew attached with Ellie… I didn’t see what the problem/controversy was.

Was it selfish of him? Of course, but he’s human and Neil Druckman tries to based this whole game on realistic reasoning and story telling. Cause humans are weird ass creatures and when shit hits the fan, we lose all our rational sense out the window.

You can still think the plot is bad, that’s completely fine. And to those who spew malice, homophobia, and transphobia beacuse of an “SjW AGeNDA”/s  can fuk off. I dont have time for those braindead bitch babies..

As for the leaker, there are rumors that they were a disgruntled ex-employee who wasn’t paid during Crunch Time (IDK). If so,that fukin sucks and I condemn the Crunch Culture. It sucks that most (if not all) Gaming companies, animation, or entertainment in general have some sort of Crunch Culture and we should really change that. However, leaking a game where others alike, devs, artists, etc worked hard on it (FOR YEARS) is not going to do anything good. This crab in a bucket action will only put strain in the workplace conditions. Instead of filing a legal lawsuit and sue ND with other ex-employees as alibis, they only fuked up their career, their future career, and will possible get sued or jail time by ND and Sony.

Anyways, disappointed about everything and everyone, still looking forward to playing the game on June 19. Going to be quite an experience, cant wait. Imma stock up on some tissues now. Stay strong y'all!

[hellhoundsprey]

professor castiel likes his freshman student sam uncomfortably amount

By the time I realized how dark I could have gone with this I was already headed to fluff-town, so have some wholesome idiots ❤.

warnings: age difference, teacher student relationship, drunk sex

includes: college!au, professor!castiel, student!sam, mutual pining, error 404: no stereotypical top/bottom dynamics found, blow jobs, deep throating, face fucking, hair pulling, cas is a domestic soft old man, stanford era

 ~

  “Wait, so—not ever?”

“Not ever.”

“That—wow.” Sam frowns adorably. Measures Cas with his eyes, and Cas hopes he’ll accredit the blush with the unholy small amount of vanilla coke in this cup of vodka.

“Is, is that—so weird? Am I weird?” he blabbers, the fool, and startles together with Sam as someone tackles the beer pong table behind them with the exact outcome you’d expect.

“It’s—I dunno, uncommon?” tries Sam, always so polite, even when obviously intoxicated. Could converse with pretty much everyone except his boring old professor; the pretty blonde making bedroom eyes at him since Cas can remember Sam sitting down with him, for example.

Cas shrugs, pointedly ‘cool’. “It’s just not my cup of tea.”

Sam considers, “Huh,” and takes another deep drink from his red cup. (Sam’s a freshman but Cas wouldn’t still get invited to his students’ house parties if he had any sort of problem with underage drinking.)

“It’s just,” Sam tries again, so puzzled that he cannot let the thought go, and Cas dream-sighs on the inside, chin in his hand and elbow on his knee, now. “Like—how can you not have watched a single one of them? Like, zero? Niente?”

“Pop culture just doesn’t sit well with me,” and Sam smiles—surrendering and pitying but it’s a smile, and Cas will take that without complaint.

“But it’s…Marvel, sir. That’s like—Disney.”

Cas takes another sip from his drink.

Sam’s eyes narrow in suspicion.

“I—have watched Disney movies,” assures Castiel, hopeless idiot and academic, three doctorates. “The one with the—the dogs? I watched that one.”

Sam gives him the look that spells out how he doesn’t want to accuse Cas of lying but that Cas is making it pretty hard on him.

Sam lives on campus. Was supposed to be the designated driver tonight but his friends vanished early on, and he told Cas how difficult things are at the moment with his family and his scholarships and the new environment and so on and so on. Cas has heard it many times before. It’s a shame he can’t do much more than listen and give smart-assed advice from his privilege-built ivy tower.

Except for, y’know, “You can crash at my place. It’s safer than hitching an Iber at this hour.”

“Uber,” corrects Sam, and, “is, uh—I mean, are you sure? Is that okay?”

“Why, yes.” Cas frowns, confused. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Oh, vodka. The devil’s juice.

It takes another five minutes of persuasion until Sam finally gives in.

As said: the devil’s juice.

Cas doesn’t have much family left to turn up their noses at his ‘undignified housing situation’. It’s a house and the roof barely leaks, so it clearly does its job (and he’ll get the roof fixed this fall, promise). It has a bathtub and an adorable built-in kitchen from the sixties. Castiel fell in love with it the second he found the listing.

He informs, “Here we are,” uselessly because it’s obvious, they’re taking their shoes off and everything. “Just put it with the others,” he helps upon Sam’s hesitant posture with his sneakers in his too-big hands.

God, they’re big hands, aren’t they?

Anyhow. “Are you hungry? I could go for a snack.”

Castiel is already at the fridge, grabbing whatever is nearest, as Sam catches up. “That’s—I’m okay, you really don’t have to…”

“Oh, be my guest. They pay me well, I can get more groceries if I want. Another fridge, if I want.” He closes the fridge door with a swivel of his hips and unloads the content in his arms over the kitchen counter. “Take a seat, why don’t you. There’s wine, too, if you want.”

Sam assures, “I’m good,” and plants himself at Castiel’s kitchen table.

Cas turns towards him, knife in hand. “Crust on or crust off?”

“Off,” mumbles the kid, and Cas can’t help but smile along with him.

The sandwiches are successfully put together and diminished within minutes. Sam definitely eats like someone who hasn’t had a decent meal in a while, and Cas has to hold back very hard not to urge him into seconds (or thirds).

As he already plucks the too-many pillows from his couch, Cas inquires, “Is this okay with you?” and Sam, of course, nods rapidly.

“Of course, yeah. Thank you, sir.”

“It’s ‘Cas’,” offers Cas, who doesn’t need to be reminded of his age or status this frequently.

If he wasn’t Sam’s professor…God.

Things could be different.

If he had become a librarian, maybe. He can’t think of many other places or occasions to otherwise run into Sam. Always studying, cramming; such a hard-working student. Cas sees himself—burying himself in books and thoughts. Everyone has their ways of escaping real life.

Cas doesn’t leave him without a spare toothbrush before he makes his way upstairs. Takes care of his bedtime hygiene (or, the shortened, drunken version of that) and falls into bed. Worms out of his pants, somehow, but that’s as far as things will go, and that’s okay. Not that he has a say in that.

Castiel falls asleep as soon as he closes his eyes.

~

“Mr. Novak.”

“Hm.”

“… Mr. Novak?”

Cas smacks his lips, turns his head to face the wall.

“… Cas?” and again, louder, “Cas?”

“Yes? I? Oh, lord.” Cas groans, rubs at his face. “What time is it?”

“Don’t know,” murmurs Sam, and Cas realizes it’s still night. “I’m sorry for waking you…”

Cas blabbers, “Is everything okay?” and, yeah, definitely still fucking drunk. Jesus.

Sam begins with, “I,” but can’t seem to find the rest of the sentence.

Cas’ eyes adjust to the spinning room, to the shadow-y figure of Sam Winchester sitting hunched over on the floor, right next to Cas’ bed. He looks upset, to say the least.

“Did something happen?”

“Just, a—a nightmare.” Pale, Sam tries a thin-lipped smile.

“Oh. Well—”

“I tipped the—the lamp? By the couch? It broke.”

Castiel supplies, “Ah,” and tries to remember what fucking lamp Sam means. Did he put a lamp there? He might have put a lamp there.

“I couldn’t find a dustpan or nothin’. There’s shards all over the carpet and—”

“Oh my, did you hurt yourself?”

“Just a—no,” corrects Sam, and not-so-subtly as his own intoxicated brain might be telling him he’s doing it pulls the too-long sleeve of his hoodie further over his hand.

It’s not a thought, it just happens. “Let me see,” and a reach, a grab—Sam’s hand, rough skin, the warmth of it.

Castiel holds on harder just because he does not (cannot) admit his foolish embarrassment.

Studies the (truly minor) cuts with a frown and decides, overly fatalistic: “Bathroom. Iodine. Bandaids.”

“It’s really nothing, sir…”

“Sam, do I have to drag you? Because I will.”

Sam’s mouth closes, presses thin in defeat.

The kid trots after Cas, who has yet to let go of that hand, and doesn’t take note of said fact until they’re already in the bathroom and he raises that treasure up to his eyes for medical purposes.

Huge hands indeed.

Beautiful, beautiful hands.

Cas clears his throat. It doesn’t help.

Sam stands awkward. Pulled his jeans back on or never took them off? Barefoot. Cas is still in socks.

And boxers.

Cas clears his throat again.

“You do this a lot?”

Cas contributes, “Huh?” and his eyes flicker from where he’s applying iodine up to those magnificent, now-hooded eyes—tired and swimming and god he’s probably so soft. Clearly huggable.

“You’re good at that,” adds Sam, the angel, the puppy, with his tiny mouth trying for another smile.

“I—well, I.” Have a messed-up family? Too many clumsy siblings? Helper syndrome? “Yes.”

The tiniest of chuckles. Cas’ stomach does things that probably would feel great if he hadn’t poisoned himself with this much vigor.

Sam tells him, “You’re great,” and Cas feels heat rising to his face.

The intense stench of iodine doesn’t help. “I’m just…a guy. Who owns too many books and knows too many things.”

“Exactly: great.”

Cas scoffs, helpless, eyes on his task at hand because otherwise he’d stare into Sam’s face until they inevitably make out for the next consecutive twenty-four hours. “I’m, I, there are much greater people out there. I’m just a—”

“Professor.”

Cas looks up, which is a mistake. Right into those eyes, which are too kind, too close. Wait, when did they get so close?

Cas manages a coarse, “Correct,” before Sam’s mouth overcomes the last (miniscule) distance.

Castiel hadn’t thought about how long it has been since he’d last been close with someone like this; the last time someone kissed him, the last time he kissed someone.

That someone’s hand cupped his face, or his hand touched someone else’s face. Held on, maybe breathing, maybe not.

Castiel presses their foreheads together; tips of noses squished as well and Sam makes the smallest of noises. Relief, maybe. God, he’s tall.

Cas hears, “I’m sorry,” before he kisses the kid again. And again.

It takes a while for him to be present enough to toss the tweezers and iodine-soaked cotton ball into the sink, and only does that because he requires two hands to get a hold of the kid like he needs to.

He’s somehow got Sam with his back to the door, breathing at least as heavy as him and his hair is too-soft, it shouldn’t be this soft, this easy to bury his fingers in and hold onto.

Sam sucks his own lip behind his teeth once Cas gives them a break and Cas is painfully, suddenly aware of what is happening, and what is going to happen, if Sam doesn’t—

“Tell me to stop.”

Cas is panting, horrified.

He repeats, “Tell me to stop, Samuel,” and Sam uses that opportunity to dive back for Cas’ mouth.

Cas has got a not-his-own hand down his boxers before he can even vocalize his request for the bedroom.

Feels so fucking out of it, surreal with that over-strong hand just holding on, twisting, so capable. He can barely walk.

They get Sam’s jeans off easy enough; the hoodie is more of a challenge and Cas makes a deep-stomach happy noise for the musk, the worn-out band tee hiding underneath—faded and thin and Sam’s very visibly hard nipples that he has to work his thumbs over, if only for the sliver of arousal in Sam’s face.

The fucking hunger. “Can I suck you off?”

“Uhm, whu—?” is all Cas gets to say, because Sam’s already dropped to his knees, already yanked Cas’ boxers down mid-thigh. More accurate, “Jesus Christ,” and hands back into that mop of hair and Sam’s already swallowed him down to the fucking base.

Holy mother of—

“God,” stammers Cas, knees dangerously weak and oh lord that throat, the fucking precision and casual perfection and he doesn’t have a say in how his hands force Sam’s head despite the obvious willingness; allow him to pull him in and grind deep.

It’s a mistake again to open his eyes and look down because Sam’s right there to meet him, eyes tearing up now but he doesn’t even gag; moves despite Cas’ brutal hold on him and tears at his own hair to bob his mouth up and down the length of Cas’ cock—cheeks sucked in, no teeth, not a hint of ’em.

“Oh God, Sam, wait, wait—”

And Sam does. Pulls off, hand wrung tight around the now-wet base of Cas’ dick and sounding a different kind of drunk; breathless, dark. “You okay?”

Cas half-laughs, “Better than okay,” and Sam’s perfect mouth pulls into a tiny, mean smirk.

“Gonna blow?”

“Yes, give me a second.”

���I can fuck your face if you want.”

“I—a-absolutely,” and Cas didn’t know they were so close to the bed that one harsh push of Sam’s arm would send him on it back-first.

The springs inside his mattress creak with the unfamiliar stab of Sam Winchester’s knees.

Above Castiel, the kid rids himself of his wonderful-smelling t-shirt, tosses it god-knows-where, and Cas already feels breathless.

Kinda accepts that this is reality, somehow, when Sam holds him down with the weight of his eyes alone, the practiced tug on his underwear that gets his dick out; strokes it once, twice.

Cas can hear how wet he is.

“Sorry,” ponders Sam, kneeing his way further up to straddle Cas’ face right, “It’s kinda big.”

Cas would say something along the lines of ‘oh, that’s fine’ or ‘you’re fine’ or ‘please, God, get it in me’, if he wasn’t so busy getting his mouth on that fucking beautiful cock.

Cut and huge and Cas’ jaw won’t open as far as it probably should, but judging by the way Sam groans and makes himself comfortable halfway down Cas’ fucking gullet, he doesn’t seem to mind it much.

Cas’ throat gets pounded all strict nearly immediately, and he can’t do much more than scramble his hands to hold onto Sam’s ass and figure out how to acquire any oxygen. Any, at all.

“Fuck, your throat,” and that shouldn’t sound loving, dreamy; not that rough around the edges, hissed through gritted teeth and there’s balls slapping Cas’ chin and it’s—so—good.

Cas has to spank Sam’s ass pretty hard for him to notice and give him a breather (literally). Lets him cough up and swallow back down the worst, make a slut-sound before Sam laughs, angles back in.

“You like it?”

Cas groans something resembling a, “Uh-huh,” around too many miles of cock, eyes closed and Sam’s nails digging into his scalp, tipping and tilting him like he needs, wants.

“Fucking love it, don’t you?”

Cas would nod. Somehow, he’s sure Sam gets it either way.

Cas’ forgotten dick drools over his happy trail. Still so fucking hard and Sam’s spit has dried all the way now and Cas wouldn’t dream to get a hand on himself if he can keep them on Sam’s tight little ass instead.

“Wanna come on your face.”

Cas makes a heart-broken noise.

“Yeah? You want it?”

Cas gets a chance to rasp his, “Yes,” and misses the fucking violence of that cock immediately, waits patiently and gulping for air for Sam to finish himself off.

Just a few strokes and there it goes; they both groan.

Cas feels more discomfort over how much he doesn’t care that it gets into his lashes, his nose, than the fact itself.

“Fuck, your eyes. Sorry.”

“First drawer,” and Cas is barely done saying that by the time there’s already a tissue wiping over his face.

Sam kisses him. Lets Cas lick the taste of his own cock over his tongue and growl-laughs.

“Where do you want it?”

“Want what?” chuckles Cas, halfway into cuddle mode with Sam’s comfortable lightweight on top of him, the gentle attention to his hair.

Sam fixes him with his drunk-dark gaze. Edges his thumbnail along Cas’ cheek, the corner of his mouth.

“My mouth?” and, Jesus Christ, “My ass?”

“Jesus—Christ, I—”

Sam inquires, “Condoms?” before Cas can shut him up with his mouth on Sam’s.

Can rake his fingers through the now-mess of all that hair, dwell in the light of all of this kid’s post-orgasmic bliss.

Sam laughs, “What?”

“You’re beautiful. Do you know that?”

Sam laughs more.

“You’d really let me…?”

“Hell yeah. But no pressure.”

“I really liked what you did before.”

“Mouth, then?” and Cas smiles, nods, and Sam licks another wet kiss into his mouth before he crawls down the sweaty, crumpled mess that is Castiel still in today’s white dress-shirt.

“You do that a lot?” asks Cas, softly petting through that hair while Sam takes good care of him—mouths along the length, now, and it’s even better/worse than the spectacular deep-throating from earlier. Just tender and teasing.

It’s not gonna take a whole lot to get Cas there anyway, at this point.

“What, suck cock? I dunno.” A broad lap of tongue, a casual puckered suck on the frenulum. “Not lately, no.”

“You are magnificent. At it and in general,” and that earns him another humbled noise.

The pillow talk dies off in favor of Sam wrapping his lips around the crown of Cas’ cock. Of him swallowing the entire length, again, working him with muscles Cas is very sure couldn’t have been placed without this exact use in mind.

Cas’ hands hold on, don’t want or need to direct anymore. His hips counter-work him inside that wet-tight clutch and Sam doesn’t pull off once Cas warns him.

Just takes him and Cas has no other choice than emptying down that darling throat, groans and hitches his hips and eventually has to push at that forehead to dislodge the kid.

Explains, “Sensitive,” groggy and slurred and Sam just crawls back up and smothers him in kisses. Blankets him and Cas gets to put his arms around him, finally—the muscled, skinny width of that back, sweat-slick and rising-falling with his slowly calming breath.

Cas sighs, beyond contented.

He wakes to an elbow in his face, the hiss of his own pain.

Curses, “Jesus,” and Sam blinks awake to that, scrambles like he’s terrified until he apparently remembers where he is, who Cas is.

Rushes, “Shit,” and, “Sorry, you okay?” and yeah it hurts but the idea of a black eye doesn’t exactly faze Cas.

He’s had worse. “’M fine,” he promises, but lets Sam get up on one elbow, examine him for damage.

The focused, guilty frown. The precision of his fingers, searching, feathering over Cas’s skin.

Cas feels himself breaking into a smile. Sam scoffs, “What?” and allows to be nudged down for a kiss.

Gonna be day outside, soon. Birds begin to chirp. The dog collar of Mrs. Smith’ Pomeranian jingling from down the street.

Sam lies back down so they can cuddle up right. Lets Cas pet through his hair, try (and fail) to tuck it behind one of those darling, secret ears.

Inquires, with Cas’ pinkie learning the shapes of the beauty marks on the right corner of his chin, “You do this a lot?”

“Elaborate,” hums Cas, harboring desires to not leave this bed until either his kidneys fail or he has to go to work again on Monday. And how he might convince Sam to bear him company.

“Fuck your students?” and Cas laughs.

“’Not lately, no’,” he teases, but ultimately assures how, “No, Samuel. I don’t.”

“It’s pretty illegal,” muses Sam. “We’d get into so much trouble.”

Cas raises an eyebrow, all conspiracy. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Sam laughs in a tone of comfort that helps Cas forming the thought of how things are probably gonna be alright.

[rawiswhore]

Brian Pillman x Fem Reader- “Wet Ass Pussy”

You knew I had to title a fanfic this pretty soon.

I almost titled the fanfic where Brian Pillman or Dean Ambrose eats your pussy with his tongue “Wet Ass Pussy”...

________________________________________________________________

Brian Pillman would be one of the few wrestlers to help proceed and initiate the WWF's Attitude era: the era that would end up having higher ratings than the WWF in the 80's, be the highest rated show on television, beat WCW in the late 90's Monday Night Wars, and be a pro wrestling era so popular, it would cross over into popular culture and have wrestlers appear and guest star on late night talk shows and sitcoms.

Brian has such a beautiful body under his shirt, especially at the beginning of 1996 when he was still in WCW dressed during that match where he wore red tights and carried a cane.

He might not have abs like say the Ultimate Warrior or John Morrison, but he had such sexy abs during that moment.

Such a beautiful body, that one night in 1996 (or 1997, whatever you want), you and Brian were in a hotel room together, you were completely naked straddling his abdomen while he laid shirtless on a bed in that hotel.

Brian was busy furiously rubbing your clit up and down with his index finger, trying to make you cum.

He isn't much different from his ticking timebomb he plays in the WWF.

The tip of his finger is tickling your clit when he rubs it, causing friction and heating your clit up, burying into your clitoral hood.

Your pussy feels like it wants to release something through your vaginal flaps, like something wet will seep in the pores of your twat.

When he's rubbing your clit, your head is arching and leaning back, he's giving you an orgasm that you're not faking while he rubs you the right way.

Even though you don't mind him rubbing your clit, you'd rather have him do other things to help make you cum.

Your pussy is pressing on his stomach and abs, that way you'll cum on his abdomen.

"Brian!!" you cried out, lifting your head up and straightening your head up, tapping your hand on his chest. "Play with my nipples!"

Even though one of his hands is busy rubbing your clit, he lifted his other hand and put it on one of your bare breasts, where he put your nipple in between the pads of his index finger and thumb.

He proceeded to tweak and twist your nipple like it was a radio dial.

You could feel tingles through your nipple when he tweaked it that felt so good.

"OmiGod Brian!" you squealed, your voice high pitched. "Just rub me a bit more!"

"Your what?" Brian asked. "Nipple or clit?"

"Both!" you replied.

He rubbed your clitoris even faster after he heard that, his muscle feeling more sore and numb from rubbing your clit for quite a long time.

He's probably giving his arm a workout from rubbing your clit and building a bit of muscle mass!

Brian, however, had his signature shit eating grin spread ear-to-ear across his face while he was tweaking your nipple and rubbing your clit.

He'd love it if you were riding up and down his erection, that way he'll see your tits bouncing, but he doesn't mind what you've planned on doing with him tonight.

He's even glad you're doing this to him.

"Hey Brian!" you called out and cried. "Could you try to suck my nipple?"

You pointed to your other nipple he isn't tweaking.

He lifted himself up from the mattress, leaning his face into your other breast, where he wrapped his mouth around your nipple, proceeding to suck on it like

He managed to suck your nipple while he tweaks your other nipple and while he's rubbing your clit, now that's talent.

"Lick my nipple!" you ordered him. "My areola!"

The tip of his tongue furiously ran around in circles on your areola, as well as licked up and down your nipple.

When he was sucking on one of your nipples, your hand was behind his head, your fingers laced and buried through his thick blond hair.

Your hand pulled his head and face into your breast he's currently sucking on.

"Yesssss, Brian!!!" you moaned breathily. "Make me cum!!"

Though, you're a bit worried you won't be able to cum on his abs since the top of his body is bent so he can suck your nipple, just to make you cream.

He's been playing with your nipple for quite a long time, but you want him to do other things to your body to make you cum.

"Caress my body!" you ordered him to do "My skin!"

You wrapped your fingers around his wrist and moved his hand on your other breast to your stomach, where you want him to rub your body.

His hand proceeded to caress your skin, tingles being felt as his hand traveled and roamed all over your naked body.

"Yesss, Brian!!!" you moaned. "I'm gonna cum!!!"

And lo and behold, your twat hole leaked some salty white cum out of your twat and onto his stomach, your clit pounding like a heartbeat after you had creamed on his stomach.

He could feel a little something dripping on his stomach, that something is obviously your cum.

Now that you've came, he can stop rubbing your clit now as well as sucking your nipple.

"You can stop sucking my nipple now" you told him, you lifting your head and opening your eyes, your voice no longer sounding like you're having an orgasm. "And rubbing my clit"

He then laid his head back down on the mattress, his lips no longer around your nipple, and he let his hand slip out from in between your legs.

"Does that mean I can stop rubbing your body now?" he asked.

You nodded your head, though you don't mind him caressing your skin.

You wish your pussy came and gushed like a fire hydrant bursting, getting your cum all over his abs.

You sat and straddled his abs for a while, letting your cum get on his abs.

When you were straddling his abs, your pussy was above his navel so you won't cum in his belly button.

You actually had your twat positioned over his navel all this time he rubbed your clit and sucked your tit so you won't cream in his belly button.

When you felt like your twat had seeped and poured your cum out enough, you moved yourself back onto his lap, straddling his crotch.

He was luckily wearing boxers, you don't want his dick to enter your pussy now.

You saw your cum on his abs, and you put your hand where that cum was, spreading that cum all over his abs.

Brian, meanwhile, looked down at you rubbing and smearing your cum all over his abs.

"Brian" you said to him "I wanna cum on your pecs one day"

He does have rather big, sexy pecs, you may as well rub your cum on his pecs as well.

He smiled hearing that, enjoying what you said.

Sometimes, you buried your hand in your pussy until your hand and fingers were drenched in your cum, only to pull that hand out and rub more of your cum all over his stomach.

"You've got such a beautiful body" you confessed to him as you caressed your cum on his tummy "You should be shirtless more"

"I used to be shirtless all the time" he admitted.

He did, back in his WCW days when he was Flyin' Brian Pillman.

Though, he had that unflattering mullet back then.

"Y'want me to rub my cum on your pecs?" you asked him.

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Whatever you want" he suggested.

It would be even better if you creamed on his chest and rubbed that cum on both of his pecs afterwards.

You'll do that in the future, maybe even tomorrow.

You wish you could be a man with a penis, that way you can really cum on Brian's abs.

Later on that evening, he ate your wet ass pussy out, tasting your salty, slippery twat, cleaning

________________________________________________________________

My inspiration for this fanfic was when someone said they wanted to cum on John Morrison's abs on the sexualwweconfessions blog on tumblr.

You guys can also imagine you're cumming on someone like say, Val Venis, Billy Gunn or John Morrison's abs, they have/had hot abs as well.

Some of you males can imagine you're cumming on Brian's abs as well.

[x-reader-theater]

Happy Birthday

Relationship: Ben Hardy x Gender Neutral!Reader

Summary: It is your boyfriend, Ben Hardy’s birthday today! And you have a special surprise, just for him... 

Warnings: Smut... Again... 

Word Count: 1,066

A/N: Hello again. I know I just posted smut, but in honor of Ben’s birthday, I thought I would write a birthday themed smutty imagine. I promise, this is the last one for a little bit. But yes, it is Ben’s birthday. That’s gonna date this. Anyways, here’s to Ben, and here’s to hoping you stay culturally relevant for the next few years. 

“Happy Birthday!” You exclaim, walking into your shared apartment with Ben. You see him leaning against the counter in your kitchen, smiling at you. You set the cupcakes and your keys, wallet, and phone on the dining table, and walk over to Ben. He pulls you in, and kisses you, pushing you up against the counter. “No, no,” you say, pushing him off you.

“Oh. Do you not want to today?” He asks, a little sad, but he understands.

Your eyes widen. “No! That's not it at all!” You exclaim, and he tilts his head, confused. “No, it's just, today's your birthday, and I want to do something for you…”

You look away, a little embarrassed, but Ben tilts your head so you're looking at him. “What is it?” He asks, softly, and you place a hand on his chest.

“Do you trust me?” You ask, and he nods. “No, I need you to say it.”

“Yes, yes, I trust you.”

“Good.”

You grab him by the hand, and drag him into the bedroom, where you push him down onto the bed. He sprawls out for you, his legs and arms splayed around him, and you immediately undo his belt. You rip it off him and throw it across the room where it his the wall and falls with a thunk to the floor. You slide his pants off him and throw those as well, not even waiting for them to hit the ground before you take his shirt off him as well.

You sit back and admire how beautiful he looks in just his underwear, and place your hands on his abdomen, running them up and down the planes of his chest, and the muscles on his stomach. You lean forwards, and gently kiss him, and when he leans up for more, you push him back down.

“Not yet,” you say, and he looks at you shocked, but you don't wait for an answer. You reach down and grab his already half hard cock, and stroke it, once, twice. Ben's back arches, and you smile, letting out a breathy laugh as he whines for more.

“More?” You ask, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, yes,” he breathes out, and you move your hand away from his cock.

You throw off his boxer briefs, and his cock hits his stomach grotesquely. You lick your lips and go down to his cock. You kiss around his, sucking on the skin right next to it, leaving slightly red marks in its wake. You knew it it bruise, you wanted it to bruise. You wanted him to know he was yours.

His hips buck up, and his cock jumps, hitting his stomach as his ass hits the bed. You click your tongue and say, “Do you want more? Do you want me to run my tongue up you?”

“Yes, please God, yes,” Ben begs.

Hearing his pretty voice, you have to oblige, licking a stripe up the side of his cock, before grabbing it, and wrapping your lips around the head.

“Fuck yes,” he grits out from behind his teeth.

You lick the head of his dick, before taking it in your lips again, and going down in one motion, taking it all in one go. His hips buck up again, and you gag slightly, but you push his hips back down, making sure he didn't do it again. You can feel the tears prick in the corners of your eyes as you come back up.

You pant slightly, and look at Ben pointedly. He gives you a look of 'sorry’, but throws his head back as you grab his cock again in one hand.

“Look at me,” you say, and he does, moving his head back to see what you're going to do next.

You grab the lube sitting out on the bedside table, and pour a little out on your fingers. You rub them together to make it just a little warmer, but that didn't usually work. You knew first hand. You press your finger's to Ben's hole, and trace around it. His cock jumps against his stomach, and you laugh slightly at him.

“Come on, just-” He cuts himself off with a loud moan as you insert your fingers inside him, and starts scissoring him open. You push into him again, and he gasps. You just sit there for a moment, your fingers resting inside him, and he rolls his hips. “Please, please I want- I need more!”

You comply, pushing a third finger inside of him, and stretching him further. You make sure not to go too fast, you don't want anything to break, but just enough where it just feels so good. For both of you.

You feel yourself brush against something, and Ben's back arches off the bed, his cock springing up as he lets out a loud moan. He flops back down panting, and you touch it again. You gives out another pretty moan, and you lean forwards, pressing your lips to his while you're still inside him.

“Does that feel good?” You ask against his soft lips.

“Yes, yes, yes!” He says, bucking his hips up to feel that same feeling again.

“Do you want to come?” You ask, and he nods. You grab his cock and he gasps, screwing his eyes shut.

“Yes! Yes! Fuck!”

You start moving your hand at the same time as you pump his dick, and you kiss him again, pulling on his lip as he just pants into your mouth. You feel him muttering curse words against your lips, and you smile, kissing him to silence him.

You brush against his prostate one last time, and you feel his body tense for just a moment, before he lets out a loud scream, and his body goes slack. You feel his cum on your hand, and on his stomach as you pull your fingers out of him. You kiss him again, slowly this time, and get off, looking at your handiwork.

You realize you love seeing him unraveled, laying on the bed, his own cum mixing with his sweat on his stomach. You look down and see his hole leaking lube, staining the bed sheets below it.

You fall back onto the bed and kiss Ben's shoulder, and laugh at his shocked, and totally blissed out expression. You kiss his bare arm and whisper against it, “Happy Birthday.”

[alo-piss-trancy]

What would be some Grell omorashi headcanons?

Quick Note: I tend to use she/her for Gr/ell and hc her as a tra/ns wo/man, but I also understand between canon sources, non-canon char interviews, author intentions, dif cultural views, The time period the canon takes place in vs. The year the media was published vs. Our current time now changing views/terms, it's ALL a giant clustertruck question mark blob. So feel free to hc Gre/ll differently, be that a very feminine ga/y man or b/i or nonb/inary or whatever, I genuinely don't mind how anyone hcs characters and fan content does not affect my enjoyment of canon in any way. I'm never gonna pick fights and claim somebody's playing with their imaginary Barbie wrong lmao, kindergarteners know better than that

Now to the actual ask:

ANON I LOVE YOU!!! Gr/ell is one of my fav chars EVER but I never get to talk about her hhhhh ❤❤❤

I've had 8 dang years to think about this so enjoy a varied selection 😼 I'm sorry in advance bc half of these are very lemony oops

General:

* Reapers have stronger bladders than humans (in terms of capacity/general strength), but they're still much weaker than a demon's (goes for all bodily functions tbh. Demons don't really have any, the only reason they would need to go is if they chose to partake in occasional food/drink, and could easily hold it for weeks or even months at a time). A reaper can probably hang in there with a full bladder for a day or two if very determined, less if they've had any strong diuretics/alcohol (I imagine the humans' stuff is p weak tho and barely gets them buzzed).

* Gr/ell's bladder is stronger than a newbie like Ro/nald's, but weaker than someone like W/ill's. Mostly bc she's frequently drinking unhealthy stuff and has no problem up and ditching to pee as soon as she's tired of waiting.

* Not bladdershy in the slightest, and not dysp/horic either. (While she wants a womb/too look more womanly, she also seems fairly content with her body and even takes pride in it in several scenes.) The only time I could see her getting nervous/locking up is if she had a really bad day or felt extra self-conscious, and it wouldn't be a very severe condition.

* She doesn't like going in weird/gross places because she is a Beautiful Lady With Standards, thank you very much. If she has absolutely no choice she'll suck it up and pee in an alley like the commoner humans, but she will complain about it for the next few years at every opportunity.

* That being said she's also a huge hypocrite, and if the situation was reversed would immediately snap at someone like W/ill or Ro/nald to just go in the alley already instead of failing to hide their desperation on the job. You bunch of damn babies, grow a pair.

* If she needs to be serious/doesn't want ppl to know, she can hide desperation fairly well (a little clumsy/flushed and sweaty, but that could be mistaken as her normal goofy behavior), masking how bad it really is until she's a minute from wetting herself.

* If she doesn't care and wants to complain though, she's obvious af. Whines and gripes the whole time, full-blown potty dance to garner sympathy, legs crossed and bouncing, everything. By the time she gets to the suspiciously e/rotic moans ppl usually hurry to find her a bathroom/yell at her to leave lol

* There have definitely been times when Gre/ll used going to the bathroom as an excuse to ditch work for a LONG time or took many frequent smaller breaks to do her nails/read magazines/flirt with Seb, etc. Needless to say, this backfires terribly the one time she actually does have to go because W/illiam definitely isn't putting up with her bs no matter how much she begs or squirms. He's even madder at her when he realizes he'll have to clean the floor. If she wasn't so mad/embarrassed herself, she'd have taken joy in his karma and gladly told him to suck her d/ick.

* That's def not the first time W/ill's seen her desperate or piss herself. As young stud reapers in training I guarantee G/rell got shitfaced at company parties on more than one occasion (or just went out drinking the night before work on a weekday lol). Frequently showed up for field work having to pee every other hour and driving him nuts c':

* She and Ma/dame Red definitely fooled around a couple of times (she's the only woman Gr/ell's ever been attracted to) . Maybe Gr/ell already had the kink and brought it up, or maybe Red saw Gr/ell squirming and asked (insisted) she let her watch until she lost control, but either way things got dirty real quick lmao. Red slapped a demon's ass in the same room as her nephew, she's dom AF (and inappropriate lmao). G/rell's a giant masochist/sadist combo. Do the math 👀👌💯

* I personally love the concept of her ending up desperate after inviting herself along and crashing one of C/iel and Seb/astian's missions and just being miserable the whole time trying to hide it. Because she def can't embarrass herself in front of B/assy, but even worse she will NOT prove she has to take a potty break before some human kid. Naturally, C/iel being the complete brat and posessive bitch he is, immediately picks up on her predicament and torments her the whole time/makes a fool of her without letting Seb know the real issue. She can't lay a finger on him because she'd be Dead and she can't whine for B/assy to get him to stop bc that would mean explaining her problem so it just keeps escalating in comedic fashion. (This isn't even an omo hc really sorry lol, I just love any plot with those two bickering like petty babies as rivals for Seb's attention, even better if Ci/el consistently pulls one over on her and is the more mature one. You killed my aunt and then tried to steal my butler, Get Rekt Bitch )

* In any aus where she isn't hooking up with Red or trying to get Seb, I ship her hard with Un/dertaker (they're my otp actually don't judge me). In those he's actually the one with a massive piss kink and she's weirded tf out at first, but I mean if ur bf already eats dog biscuits and sleeps in a coffin u can probs learn to live with it. She indulges him periodically and he spoils her rotten afterwards. (I actually had several fic ideas for those two back in the day. One day maybe I'll finally get around to it).

* No matter what she draws a hard line at drinking it. No thank you. Golden showers are a maybe but they better have some gr8 shampoo to scrub her luxurious hair with afterwards.

* Wetting herself in that too small choir outfit from s1 that basically made short shorts and a crop top? P l e a s e

Dom G/rell:

* Has totally tried to pin Seb down/trap him somewhere and use his increasing desperation as leverage to get what she wants since he's too proper to wet himself. It probably doesn't work bc he's crafty and also could just throw her across the room, but u know. Points for trying.

* When someone lets her dom them willingly she's an absolutely sadistic fiend. W/ill completely torment them until they're begging and broken, and they have to pleasure her first before she'll show any mercy and allow them to let go. That said, she's got an almost sweet tone to anything she says and is very affectionate the whole time. It's a dichotomy that leaves any subs an absolute wreck. Her absolute fav part is watching ppl squirm and start to leak, it's cute.

* She also likes doing the whole fake sympathy play, where everything nice she says makes it 20x worse for the sub. Poor babies ❤

* Making out so they can't say anything no matter how desperate they are, just writhing underneath her with their whimpers muffled in her mouth? Perfection.

* Slowly pressing her boot into someone's abdomen is her signature move.

Sub Gr/ell:

* Loves the whole humiliation aspect and being all squirmy and nervous in front of (S/EBASTIAN) people, struggling to hide her problems and act casual but knowing her face is flushed red.

* When it gets really bad she gets super whiny and submissive, whimpering and moaning and really playing up the vulnerable aspect. Look how pitiful she is, it would be oh so easy for them to have their way with her~ (and then she bats her eyelashes and they just glare ajdkgk stop fucking around G/rell this is a Serious Scene we talked about this before we started)

* Sometimes she does public holds or gets desperate before a mission/visit just so she can see how long she can get away with it before she has to cave/people get suspicious. It's k/inky, exh/ibitionist, and oh so delicious~

* Lives for (S/EBASTIAN) the dom to get mad and disappointed in her, verbally berating her for not being more composed and embarrassing them in public, manhandling her as she's dragged somewhere more secluded to get ahold of herself, being teased and poked and prodded all while they're sneering in her ear. She wants to feel like the dirtiest, most ashamed and nervous person alive for such a simple need, knowing it's going to come out eventually no matter how hard she tries to be Good, having to beg and plead with teary eyes only to be denied access to the bathroom and told to suck it up and hold it.

* She really liked her original disguise/persona from the Ma/dame Red Days for this exact reason. Could be as shy and stuttery as possible and really play it up, got bossed around/teased by everyone, it was great. Totally got desperate once or twice so 'he' could beg Seb/astian to use the manor bathroom and get pitied. If he 'tripped' and just so happened to lose control and start crying, well, that couldn't be helped...