#I'm simply stating facts

[my-drama-heart2406]

Why is no one talking about how In-ha is such a textbook sub:

Bratty✅

Attention Seeking✅

Daddy Issues✅✅✅

Constantly looks at his dom Tae-oh with horny eyes✅☑️✔️✅☑️✔️✅

[wonder-worker]

Is it true that Elizabeth of York birth celebrated like she was a son? I have seen some historians say this.

Hi! Yes, Edward IV did celebrate his daughter’s birth as though she was a male heir (“a prince”).

While we have no contemporary reports at the time of Elizabeth of York's birth, we know that Luchino Dallaghiexia reported that the birth of Edward and Elizabeth's third child, Cecily of York, "rejoiced the king and all the nobles exceedingly*, though they would have preferred a son'. Wanting a son (ie: an heir) was typical for their time period, likely enhanced by Edward and Elizabeth's unprecedentedly controversial marriage, her very unsuitable origins and his own status as a usurper. The fact that he was described as being "exceedingly" delighted at the birth of his third daughter in a row regardless does support the claim that he would have gone over-the-top to celebrate the birth of his first legitimate** child.

Hope this helps!

*Bizarrely, I have seen several historians and blogs using Dallaghiexia's letter to claim that he was bitterly disappointed at Cecily of York's birth. I don't understand how historical reading comprehension can be so poor that "rejoiced the king exceedingly" has somehow been rewritten as the...exact opposite of that. With no self-awareness whatsoever. **His illegitimate daughter Margaret (known as Elizabeth for some reason) was almost definitely born before his marriage. We don't know the birth dates of his other two illegitimate children: I think the likeliest conception date for Arthur was in early 1470, but it's unverified; and we know nothing about Grace (which was in fact her surname, not her name) other than the fact that Elizabeth Woodville seems to have been very attached to her.

[lakesbian]

Amy is white. That is not what "coded" means. You are bad at this. Read more.

you are disproportionately & somewhat comically angry about a relatively minor and straightforward opinion on the text--why?

[taylorftparamore]

"harris husband is a zionist" see, i can't find any source for that but we DO know her husband is jewish and also... OH WOW. the grandson of holocaust refugees. and criticized the rise of antisemitism in the usa. so uh. surprise! you're being antisemitic by assuming a random american jewish person is in favor of genocide. like. you cannot claim every single american jewish person is a "zionist genocide support" that is literally an antisemitic claim. you also cannot call random jewsish people zionists for denouncing antisemitism. what the hell is wrong with y'all. oh yeah. some of y'all are antisemitic.

[mwolf0epsilon]

"Star Wars isn't dead y'all are just haters" "Disney saved Star Wars" "It's the Woke Agenda that ruined Star Wars"

My mans, Disney single-handedly destroyed the Sequel Trilogy despite the Force Awakens being the gateway to something potentially fantastic; MCU'd the Mandalorian (a story which originally had nothing to do with the Prequel and OG Trilogy aside from sharing a universe and exploring a sect of a completely different culture/ideology); ego-boosted both Filoni and Favreau to the point where their OC Verse is not only canon but openly disregarding the Star Wars Universe Bible/Lore; gave us a snippet of what an extremely misunderstood indigenous culture is actually like (instead of portraying them as the savages one of the white leads mislabeled as animals that deserved to be slaughtered) only to then wipe out the tribe we got to know for no reason other than shock value thus alienating indigenous/poc viewers in the most disrespectful way possible; completely threw away the entire message of TCW (that being a clone does not make you incapable of being your own person who has their own thoughts, ideals, moral compass and overall identity) by making TBB (a show that does have it's strong points in set design, soundtrack orchestration and overall sound design, but is extremely weak on both characterization and storytelling because they either make the meaningful plot points stretch too thin or focus on the wrong character completely) their go to show marketed for kids instead of the actual kids programming that people shit on for being for, surprise, kids; constantly disregards valid critique from their consumers (to the point where infighting in the Fandom has gotten extremely ugly) that people either give up on interacting completely or simply vanish and take all their things with them (because no one seems to understand where these critiques come from, or how being unable to admit your special little show is imperfect is actually not a good thing for both you and others).

This isn't even accounting for the fact the Fandom seems to have doubled in it's overall toxicity since Disney took over. Which is par for the course when a mega corporation takes hold of something that started out extremely political in nature anyway. The Cash Cow machine needs feeding after all...

[suffercerebral]

me having gone to bed at 6 am every day for the past week and generally spiraling mentally while rotting in bed waking up this morning: a 4 mile hike in the heat is a really good idea right now, and while we're at it let's start like 3 art projects

[thunderberryart]

I don't know about you guys, but Doug's status as the only bachelor who is story locked until Act 3 doesn't give me "endgame romance" vibes, but "tragic love interest who cares greatly for the protagonist, but ultimately keeps quiet about their feelings until it's too late and ends up watching their crush get together with someone else" kind of vibes.

I mean something I noticed in terms of the bachelors' dialogue (which I'm assuming applies to the bachelorettes as well when playing as Lest) is that most of them start making it apparent that they have a thing for Frey once you get their LP to 7 hearts. Doug's dialogue, however stays relatively platonic even once his LP is no longer locked to 3, and while he starts talking more openly about stuff like how grateful he is to have started his life over in Selphia, I can't name any instance in his regular day-to-day dialogue where he gets flustered or drops hints he does genuinely like Frey as more than a friend, even after he's crossed that 7 LP threshold. There are a handful of exceptions, but it's mostly tied to dialogue that only occurs under specific circumstances, not just by talking to him daily.

...Which makes sense! His LP being hardlocked to 3 is because of the whole "Sechs spy" thing in the main plot, so obviously he's got to bottle up his feelings because of that; even after the truth comes to light and he switches sides, he chooses to keep his distance from the protagonist due to guilt and wanting to make up for being deceived. The other marriage candidates, meanwhile, don't have their LP locked for any plot-related reason, and so while the protagonist is getting closer and closer to everyone else, Doug is effectively being left behind because he's punishing himself for his actions. By the time Act 3 rolls around and he FINALLY allows himself to open up to Frey more, there is a very good chance that Frey is already dating/married to someone else, and so he has to keep quiet about his feelings for the sake of her happiness (unless the player has no interest in dating any of the other bachelors and is that hellbent on marrying Doug, in which case he always had a chance LMAO.)

It's also probably worth noting that while Act 3 is the point in the game where the player can finally romance Doug, Doug doesn't show up in any major cutscenes during the Memories event that allows the player to access the Rune Prana; previously, he was pretty consistent about his story appearances, but now he's just Not There. In other words, his role in the plot is done, and so anything that happens between him and the protagonist at that point is entirely up to player choice rather than because the plot said so. (Which, at least to me, really makes it feel like being able to date him is a reward for completing Act 2, and an optional one at that.)

[aquareegia]

*pacing around in my room because i'm pissed off and need to rant but have no one who cares about those things*

[maaaahri]

I think the worst thing about the perception of health, both mental and physical, and being disabled in either regard, is that the need for extra support is often viewed, institutionally and therefore culturally, as a dehumanizing element rather than a simple fact of the human experience. No man is an island, and yet, when it comes to needing anything from an IEP to a caretaker, these things are used to subvert one's rights and create the expectation of failure and that's a little ableist innit.

[m4niackkyun]

Hi. (Announcement in the tags)

[comediakaidanovsky]

getting dragged to a full day board meeting tomorrow, where they haven't prepped anyone from production, so they're very much ambushing us. also the executive who i'd normally be loyal to started the week strong by being an unforgivable asshole to me, so i'll be heading to this off-site in the rich part of town with literally no ally in the room. very excited to spend the day trying to ensure that everyone on my team keeps their job. great stress-free start to the year

[carnasnow]

Looking through analyses/takes that some people did with a book (not gonna tag it cause I didn't read it yet so I don't want to argue with anyone) and like. Hm. It's just interesting to look at both sides.

Like there's two groups with different takes on a character and the way some of them keep accusing each other of 'not having read the book correctly' or 'did we even read the same book??' or just getting angry at the other group for choosing to see things a certain way. Idk if that makes sense but I'm just there like ???

Like. Maybe, just maybe, it's possible to interpret things differently? It's okay to view things a certain way. I'll admit I've 'taken a side' but that still doesn't mean I can't respect the other group for viewing things differently? Idk i just hate internet discourse sometimes I guess

If only we could all discuss respectfully. I mean I do see that sometimes and it always makes me super happy and honestly, much more willing to try and understand an opinion I don't really agree with. And sometimes, even convince me

[jankwritten]

vent post time pardners

part of my issues with the way I experience time is that one day to everybody else can feel like literal WEEKS for me. It's not every day, but some days, especially when I spend most of it writing or inside, not interacting with people, I feel as if I've gone multiple days/weeks without talking to anybody.

this then exacerbates my issues/fears that if somebody doesn't talk to me much for a day, they suddenly hate me. so if I'm perceiving one day wherein I don't talk to people much as more like 10-11 days, all of a sudden I'm panicking that everyone hates me and never wants to talk to me again because I've only said maybe 2-3 things to them over the course of what is, IRL, only one day. because I'm perceiving that to be ten times longer instead of the actual span of time that it is.

does this make literally any sense. is this like, a common occurrence for other people? i would like for it to stop pls, because it really fuckin tanks my mental health and i'm So Tired of that happening.

(more vent in the tags)

[curseofdelos]

Last line challenge!

Rules: In a new post, show the last line you wrote or drew and tag some people.

Tagged by @solisaureus <3

So the actual last line I wrote is the last line from this cabin 7 fic I posted yesterday:

“Yeah,” she said as the truck disappeared into the horizon, “but I think I’ll be okay.” 

But I feel like the spirit of the challenge is to post something from a wip, not a published fic you can read right now lol, so here's the last line I wrote in one of the longer fics I like to work on for fun in between oneshots:

“Nico is the child of the prophecy.” 

:)

I tag whoever wants to do this! If you haven't been tagged yet but want to participate, then do it and tag me lol I want to see what you all are writing 👀

[morethanthedarkness]

How It Begins // ZERITH

tw; for transformation from drider to drow once more

It had been agony all over again, excruciating in a way he would never be able to articulate. Perhaps there are no words for such a feeling as to be twisted and broken into a form of horror and nightmare… or to be returned to what once had been…

Yet, the demigoddess of Eilistraee had been so careful with him… soothing… at least, as much as she could be with what needed to be done.

She had held him in her arms as though he were some dear, precious thing rather than a monster. She had worked her magic and all the while murmured soft reassurances to him in the gentlest voice he had ever heard and he had anchored to that even through his agony and his screams that no doubt drew the shadows nearer, the suffering of another such keen temptation to their appetites.

He clung to her and he listened to the tone of her words, even as he screamed himself hoarse, even through the feeling of flesh and muscle and bone being set back into place, reformed to its original shape.

His original shape.

Kar'niss the Drider no longer, but instead… Zerith, the [ former ] paladin who had denounced the Dark Mother and been punished for it, who had been ensnared within the web of the Absolute and made her cleric…

When all was said and done and he was himself once more, the demigoddess—Halisstra—had taken her own cloak from around her shoulders and wrapped it about his bare and trembling form, still holding him to her.

[ There now. You are past the worst and now need only afford yourself the time to heal. How brave and strong you have been to endure as you have. Breathe. All will be well now. All will be well. ]

It was only then that he had realized he had been sobbing, whether from pain or relief or the total overwhelm or maybe all of it and more. He had turned to hide his face against her, one trembling hand clenched into the material of her tunic.

She had not pushed him away. Had not cursed the display of weakness. Had not said that she clearly had wasted her time on one so useless. She had simply held him closer, wrapped in her cloak, and rubbed his back, pet his hair, reassured him again and again that he is safe now and there is nothing to fear, no further torment he must suffer.

He had closed his eyes and listened to the steady beat of her heart and the soft hum of her voice as she had addressed the others.

[ You should make camp. He is in no state to travel even a few steps this night. ]

It had been agreed amongst the other travelers and, even as she continued her efforts to calm and to soothe, the camp had been set up around them…

Only once one of the others had retrieved spare clothes and a bedroll for him had she at last released him that she might see to the others, though not before first pressing the softest of kisses to his temple.

He does not understand.

Sitting now—so near to the campfire with his [ borrowed ] bedroll itself wrapped around him and yet still feeling as though he freezes—he watches them all, strange pink-tinted eyes shifting from one to the next, only to snap back to another when they move too quickly.

What game are they playing? More importantly, when will it turn against him?

[ And why does that stupid little voice in the back of his mind try to convince him that it is not so? ]

If he could only get his [ overwrought and still healing ] mind to clear, if he could only pick up all the fractured and shattered pieces and bring them once more to a whole… surely he would be able to figure it out. He could plan and prepare for whatever the next step might be in this twisted game, but it all keeps slipping through his fingers…

[shotmrmiller]

pornstar au

f!reader x simon 'ghost' riley

3.7k words (sorry)

tw: teacher-student relationship but it's just a scene for porn. explicit. horrifyingly so.

You burst into the classroom and stride purposefully towards your professor, who is seated in his leather chair, engrossed in his work. Impatiently tapping your foot, you waited for him to finish marking essays. However, after 5 minutes, your patience with this unbearable man ran out.

"Professor."

He hums, a deep sound coming from the back of his throat yet doesn't look up from what he's doing. A real piece of work, he is. How fucking aggravating.

"Professor Riley," your voice takes an irreverent tone.

The hand that had been writing non-stop comes to a sudden pause, and he finally directs his attention to you. Meeting your gaze, his dark eyes are hooded, his lips set in a firm line. His job is to literally deal with students, yet he dares to look annoyed.

"Are you gonna tell me what's wrong 'r am I gonna have to learn how to read minds?" he states.

Taking in a calming breath, you clench the crumpled essay in your hand. "Can you explain to me why you failed me on this? I did exactly as you asked!"

He must know precisely what you're talking about because he simply turns back to the papers on his desk.

"Tha's your problem. You did exactly as I asked, with no thought behind it. Just wrote the bare minimum, if you can even call it writin'. It's copy-paste," Professor Riley sets the pen down and leans back in the chair.

"I need ya to use tha' head o' yours when in this class. Otherwise, you'll fail the rest o' your classes too."

Fucking hell.

Professor Riley shifts in his seat, seemingly done with the conversation, and finishes, "If tha's all."

Shit. Your pause is too long, and the director calls it. Fuck.

"I'm really sorry, Ghost, I didn't mean-" Your words of apology dissolve into thin air as his strong hand finds its place on your hip— giving it a gentle, but firm squeeze.

"S'all righ', love. Mistakes happen. Matter fact," his eyes drift from you to behind you to beckon someone with two fingers. "C'mere, you."

It's the set assistant, and he's brought the script with him. Ghost swiftly stops him from handing it to you, instead pushing it onto the assistant's chest. "Won't be needin' tha', thanks. Tell the director tha' we'll be ad-libin'. Now sod off."

The assistant follows his command in haste, scurrying off to follow Ghost's instructions.

"Hey," he murmurs. Your eyes meet his, feeling the intensity of it quickens your heartbeat. "Say whatever you like, just remember to follow the storyline, alright?"

Follow the storyline. In porn. The irony isn't lost on you, but you bite the side of your gummy cheek to keep from laughing. "Yes, sir."

He drops his hand from where he held you slowly, seemingly almost reluctant to let go. "Ready?" Ghost's thin lips curl into a smirk when you nod at his question. "Good girl."

Your fingers tightly grip the flimsy material of your uniform skirt at his praise, and warmth pools in your lower belly.

His good girl.

A high-pitched voice cuts through your thoughts, signaling the restart of the shooting. You exhale a long breath, unclenching your hands in the process.

Action.

"If tha' all." Ghost reaches for his pen when you frantically grab onto his Oxford sleeve.

"Wait, Professor, please! I can't," you stammer, "I cannot fail this class! My parents would kill me if I studied abroad only to flunk. The tuition—"

His tone is authoritative as he abruptly cuts off your lengthy excuse. "Enough. Nothing can change the mark I've given you."

Your ears pricked up at his wording, and the corners of your lips pulled up into a roguish smile. "No?" Ghost stills before turning to face you, countenance blank. "Nothing at all, Professor?" With a coy tilt of your head, your wide, doe-like eyes meet his as your fingertips trace an alluring path from his forearm down to his knuckles.

"I really can't convince you in any way to change that grade for me?" You lean on the edge of his wooden desk— skirt so short it doesn't even graze the surface of it— and lightly curl your hand around his pointer finger. "It can be our little secret, Professor Riley," you purr.

Ghost lifts a single brow, and settles back into his seat, arms crossed over his barrel chest as his eyes travel from your feet to your exposed cleavage, fixating on the soft skin peeking out from your uniform top.

"Please?" his hushed voice reverberates inside your skull. "I promise to be a good girl."

That catches his attention, eyes flashing to yours, the fire behind them hot— you hope it burns you.

"'Sat, right? Tha' changes things now, doesn't it?" Ghost rolls his chair back, away from his desk, and spreads his thick legs apart in invitation, arms resting on the rests— the dictionary definition of casual. "Convince me then, pet."

"Yes, sir." Sauntering to stand in between his legs, you swallow thickly— the bulge in his groin was quite frankly, intimidating. You've had large, but this was in a league of its own.

"You gonna do it from up there? I know I'm bigger than average but not tha' big." A huff escapes from your lips. A whole comedian.

Knees pressed into the cold, tile floor, you expertly undo the button of his trousers and with his help, pulled them down along with his pants— just enough for his cock to spring free.

Bloody fucking hell.

His cock is monstrous. It rested against his belly, heavy and thick. The pink tip slightly peeking from under his foreskin. There was a groomed thatch of coarse hair at the base, and his balls were also heavy— one hanging lower than the other.

Ghost leans forward and cradles the underside of your jaw with one large hand, fingers gently caressing the delicate skin of your cheek, while the other pumps his rigid cock in anticipation. "Not scared, are ya?" His grin was wicked. "I promise it don't bite."

Grabbing his wrist, you maneuver his hand so that his thumb now rests on your soft lips. "Might not, but I do, Professor." And catch the tip of his finger between your blunt teeth, the subtle sting of it making him hiss.

"Perfect, pretty girl," he says, almost inaudible. His words of praise are for you alone— not for the scene, nor the camera. You peer up at him through your lashes, mewling softly at the expression on his face.

His brow was set, hooded eyes sultry, a rosy hue across his cheeks and nose, and lips parted as he panted quietly.

Delicious.

Ghost then pushes his thumb further into your slick mouth and hooks it behind your bottom teeth, delicately pulling you closer to him as he tips his head down— taking his thumb out with a pop. His warm breath fans across your face as he moves closer until his lips connect with yours. He slid his tongue into your mouth, tasting of frosty mint and his own unique taste.

Your hands come up, fingers digging into the meat of his thighs when he grasps your wrist and moves it to the focal point of his desire— his breath hitching when you give his cock a firm squeeze. Ghost bites your bottom lip before breaking away, a guttural noise escaping him when you begin to stroke him. "Tighten your hand around—" he breaks off, moaning against your kiss-swollen lips when you comply.

He threads his fingers through your hair that sits at the base of your skull, curling them into a fist and tugging back— craning your neck, hair pulled taut.

"So obedient. Jus' f'me, love?" you hum cheekily, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.

"Would you hold it against me if I said no?" he chuckles under his breath, the grip on your hair tightening marginally.

"I'd say tha' you're lyin'." He sucks in a breath when you press down lightly onto his slit with your thumb. "Cheeky."

He loosens the hold he has on you, feeling your scalp prickle with tender relief, and relaxes back into the chair. "All yours, sweetheart."

That light wasn't getting any greener, so with a grunt, you shifted your weight, ignoring your aching knees, and wrapped your lips around his cock.

Barely.

The salty bite of his arousal and musk spread on your tongue as you took him in deep, stilling once he hit the back of your throat.

"Fuck, look at me."

Slightly tipping your head back, you do as he says, your throat closing around him as he slips in even further.

"Fuckfuckfuck," a hiss, "such a hot little mouth, just swallowin' me righ' up." Your lungs burn with the lack of oxygen, forcing you to pull back to gasp for air. Ghost squeezes himself at the base and taps your cheek with his saliva-coated length.

"A dirty slag like you, jus' takin' me like a professional. Tha' what you are? A professional cock sucker, love?" he taunts. Your pussy clenches when he calls you a slag, pressing your thighs together in the hope of some friction; Something to alleviate the throbbing ache in between your legs.

Ghost with eyes as keen as ever, notices. Damn.

"Oh? Little harlot likes to get degraded, does she? Reminded of her place? How I'd love to teach you exactly where you belong, but tha' wouldn't be you convincin' me to change your bad grade, now would it?"

His cock taps on your swollen lips. "Another time, hm? Now open. Make me see reason."

Ghost's wish is your command. With enthusiasm, you take him in your mouth, slowly bobbing your head, place a hand right under your lips, and twist with every push and pull.

It's sloppy, spit covering your hand, dripping down to his balls. Your jaw aches, a burning pressure a little under your ear, but what gives you the strength to continue is the loud moans coming from Ghost. He holds nothing back, his hand engulfing the crown of your head while he gently pushes you down. A performer down to his very bones.

You were about to pause the recording, the pain in your mandible and knees almost becoming too much when he suddenly pulled you off of him.

"Wha—?" Ghost seizes you by the upper arms, forcibly bringing you to your feet, disregarding your pained whimper, and places you on the sturdy desk.

He's curling his fingers into the waistband of your frilly knickers, slipping them down your legs and pocketing them. There's a quiet popping sound when he bends his knees, going eye level with your bare cunt.

In a hushed tone, you say, "This isn't part of the scene." Ghost drags his eyes from your glistening slit to your face, gaze suffocating, smothering the very air in your lungs.

"Just a taste, love." He curls one hand under your thigh, lifting it to perch it on the edge of the desk, the other he throws over his strong shoulder. The only sound in the room is your soft moans as he expertly slides his warm tongue through your slick folds, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

By god does he eat pussy like it's his job. Peering down at him, you can't stop the sounds that spill from your mouth when his tongue visibly splits your pussy lips open, flicking at your clit, lapping up your arousal like it is honey. You take hold of his short hair, tugging at the strands as each swirl of his talented tongue pushes you closer to your peak.

His eyes cut to yours when he presses a thick finger into you, drinking in your desperate expression as you keen, begging for more, blabbering about it being so good, yet not enough, please god more.

Ghost curls his finger, only taking a second to find your sweet spot, and pushes— bursts of light flashing in your peripheral vision. You begin to rock your hips unconsciously, chasing your ecstasy, and Ghost simply flattens his tongue, letting you grind against it.

You teeter on the edge of bliss, a tightening in your stomach, right under where his finger is. Shaky exhales leave you, the leg that's on the desk visibly trembling from the tension that threatens to snap you in half.

He presses a kiss to your sodden pussy, and croons, "Gonna come f'me?" You jerkily nod.

"Yes fuck yes, I'm gonna come for you, just for you, Professor Riley pleaseee—" your blathering turns into a high-pitched squeal as he lightly sucks on your pearl, hips lifting off the desk as a blinding orgasm crashes into you, pleasure bursting through your very core, cunt pulsating with every wave of ecstasy around Ghost's finger.

He wastes no time in rising to his feet and slotting his mouth over yours, the taste of your slick strong, potent on his tongue. Ghost breaks away, his breath smelling of your desire. "Exquisite, like ambrosia. Addicting."

Ghost's hand cups your sensitive quim and whispers, "Think you can take me? Tha' orgasm took a lot outta ya."

Silly question. "I'm a big girl, Ghost. I can take it."

He licks the front of his teeth and glances down to where his hand rests. "Course you can, love. Turn around f'me."

Your movements are sluggish as you turn over onto your stomach, rising to the tip of your toes as you present yourself to him.

Ghost grabs the sides of your waist, and flips your skirt up, tucking the edge into the waistband of it. His hands palm your cheeks, thumbs digging into the meat of your ass to spread you open, completely exposed to him.

"Fuck me if tha' isn't the prettiest sight I've ever had the pleasure of seein'." He doesn't acknowledge your scoff as he spreads your hands out, placing them flat on the table— enveloping your hand with his own, intertwining his fingers with yours.

His leans over your semi-prone body, cock gently prodding at your entrance, gliding easily through your folds. "Ready?"

Arching your back, his tip slips inside, just barely. That's your answer.

You can hear the smarmy grin that spreads on his face, and wanted to snark back but you're rendered mute when he pushes in. Your eyes cross at the stretch of his cock, a feeling so sublime you know that no one will ever be able to duplicate. Your fingers tighten around his as you mewl when he bottoms out, hips flush against your arse.

Ghost sucks in a breath through his teeth when you shift your weight, and whatever you did has him sliding in deeper— turning his hiss into a guttural groan. "Fuck, you have no fuckin' idea how good you feel."

Probably not, but you have every idea how good he feels.

"You okay, love? Took me so well like you were made jus' f'me. So warm and soft, tight like a vice around my cock. Pretty pussy split wide open, stuffed full of me." He speaks unfettered filth to you, dripping over your ears like molasses, thick and syrupy. Your head feels heavy on your shoulders— dizzy, drunk on his scent, his cock that's got you tearing at the seams.

Then he begins to move, pulling out until an inch remains inside, and pushing in until he's nudging the plug of your womb, feeling a deep pinch under your navel.

This is what it's like to get fucked by Ghost. The one everyone covets after, hoping he drags down the very heavens with his bare hands and lays it at their feet. And here he is, fucking you. A newbie, a fresh face no one knows yet, a name that'll probably never grace the front page.

You doubt his motives are altruistic, but goddamn does it not matter; Not with the way he's carving a space inside of you that only he will ever fit in, or the way he's curling his free hand around your neck, thumb pressed right over your racing pulse.

He lowers himself until his strong chest is to your back, his teeth nipping the tip of your ear. "The moment I saw you gettin' fucked by Johnny, I knew I had t'have ya." Your walls clamp down on him involuntarily, wrenching a pained noise from him. "Fuckin' hell, I knew this pussy would be magical."

Ghost's lips skim over the shell of your ear before pressing a chaste kiss on it. "Lemme hear how good I make ya feel, pet. Don't hold back on me now." He grinds into your arse, going in so deep that it feels like he's trying to push past the entrance of your womb. "S'alrigh'. I'll jus' have t'pull 'em outta ya."

He releases you, placing both hands flat on the desk, on either side of your shoulders. "Take em for myself, make 'em mine." Straightening all the way, he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your waist.

"What a view. Perfection." He rolls his hips, rhythm languid, loud squelching noises coming from where he fills you. "Drippin' cream all over my cock, pet. Can't tell me this isn't 'cause of me."

How the fuck can he still talk? How is he coherent? Why isn't his brain turned into mush like yours is?

"Fuckin' ya speechless, am I? Oh, sweetheart, but I'm barely gettin' started." Ghost slowly pulls out, and curls his hand around your shoulder, nudging you to turn over. "On your back, now."

You lazily flip over, hair sticking to your sweat-slick skin, and he hooks his arms underneath your legs and drags you to the edge until your arse hangs from it. "I wanna see that pretty face when you come." He wastes no time in sheathing himself back inside your swollen channel, walls fluttering at the invasion.

Ghost hooks one leg over his shoulder to lean forward, pinning you to the desk with his upper body, and maneuvers your other to wrap around his wide waist. "That cock drunk look on your face makes my balls tighten, what a fuckin' expression you've got, christ," he growls. "Knowin' I put it there makes it all the better."

He gives you a chaste kiss on the lips and gives you a smile that is all teeth. "Now let's make you sing."

Grunting, he straightens. plants his feet firmly, stance wide, and begins to fuck you. The videos of the famed Ghost you saw are nothing, nothing, in comparison to real life. His full weight is behind every spine-jarring thrust, it makes your teeth clack, it rattles your brain inside your skull. He does it so perfectly because at no point do you feel any discomfort, not even a twinge. It's all a pleasure that blazes, an all-encompassing heat that threatens to swallow you whole, burn you from the inside out.

His cock punches the breath out of your lungs, wails clawing out of your throat, and it's so good, so fucking good— god, maybe he is god, you don't know, everything is so blurry, hazy—

All senses focus on the sudden touch between your legs, an expert thumb drawing tight circles on your slippery clit and there's no way you're going to survive this—

"There she is, the girl I saw in the video. Tha's an expression I see in myfuckin' sleep. Give me what's mine, pet. Let me feel you, cream all over my cock."

He's relentless in his pursuit of your climax, a wave of pleasure so intense, it just might drag you out to sea, drowning you.

Ghost, the fucking god of sex, stops his ministrations to spit on your pussy. Spit. From his full height, a glob of warm saliva drops to your mons, and he smears it with his fingers over your pussy lips before rubbing your clit. His thrusts slow in pace, turning into a firm snap of his hips, making sure you feel every ridge of his cock, and in less than a minute, your spine arches off the desk.

Your mouth opens into a silent scream, lids snapping shut as you break underneath him, warmth gushing from where he's continuously sinking into you, a steady, slow rhythm that never ends.

"Came all over me, didn't ya? Bet you didn't know you could even do tha'."

You didn't.

"Jus' for tha', I'm gonna give you somethin' in return, yeah? A little reward for bein' so good," he praises.

Your tongue is heavy in your mouth, swollen and thick, and unconsciousness creeps at the very edges of your mind.

All you can do is lie there and take it, his sloppy thrusts, his harsh panting until he moans, "'m close, so fuckin' close," and with whatever remnants of strength you have left, you use to squeeze him tightly— unwilling to let go because his come is yours now, you've earned it.

"Come in me, Ghost," you whimper.

That does it. He slams his hands on either side of your head and borderline roars out his release, cock twitching inside of your used cunt, filling you with his spend.

Cut.

Ghost's breathing is labored, a harsh pant that fans over your overheated skin, damp with sweat.

His brows are furrowed, his eyes squeezed shut, gulping in air and shivering in the aftershock of his climax.

To be fucked by Ghost is to see the Garden of Eden behind your eyelids.

Now you understand. You understand why he has no equal. He is unparalleled.

Jesus Christ, you're fucked. So, so fucked.

He slowly opens his eyes and peers down at you with a wolfish grin.

"Perfection."

--

A week later, your video with Ghost is the most viewed on the entire website. Not one other video even scratches the bottom of where your video sits.

Ghost truly is the king.

Curiously enough, your friend is the one who lets you know that Mr. life-altering cock himself never kisses during work. Not once in any video of his has he ever kissed, apart from a short pressing of lips to skin.

Your heart traitorously flutters at the thought of it meaning something more. Catching feelings when you get fucked for a living is not the move. But there's no stopping it from misbehaving, especially when you receive another script, to make another video with Ghost.

Another. one.

Fuck. Fuck!!

You cannot wait.

@mishaglass