#they are fucking Filth incarnate

[grassbreads]

Up way late at night due to reasons and killed a bug in my kitchen that was either an extremely small cockroach or an upsettingly roachlike moth and it’s fucking haunting me

[sugurufic]

Ride Me, Pretty Please!

(Geto x F!Reader)

Summary: You dom Geto for the first time and he loses his mind

Warnings: smut, unprotected piv (use protection irl), riding, sub!geto, dom!reader, teasing (i love me domming a usually dom man)

Word Count: 1.6k of filth

masterlist

“I didn’t realise you were so sensitive like this,” you grin, body hot from the high sitting on your boyfriend’s pretty face has brought you. Geto had pleaded, begged even, for you to sit on his face, promising to do anything for you in return. And you took up that offer - choosing to dom him after, something he never lets you do.

And now you are straddling him, hands on his chest scratching his flushed skin and flicking his sensitive nipples as you hover over him, teasing his achingly hard cock with a brush of your cunt. “Is this why you never -”

“Shut - aanh - up!” he says, gasping when you rub your slick walls over his cock, squeezing around nothing to tease him.

“So you don’t want me to ride you, okay then,” you taunt, getting away from him. Geto’s large hands grab your hips and pull you back down and you’re sitting on his stomach, his dark happy trail scruffing against your slick cunt. 

“No-o! Don’t go,” your boyfriend pants, his face turning redder by the moment.

“You’re forgetting your manners, Sugu,” you coo with a strict face.

“Don’t go, please,” He says, his already fucked out face tempting you. Has he gotten his fucked out just by me sitting on his face? His messy hair only adds to his charm, tied up to keep it away from being pulled by your knees on either side of his head.

“Aw, I don’t know, ” you pull his hair out of the messy bun, playing with it as you pretend to think. “You hadn’t been the most welcoming of this.”

“You promise-” You flick his nipple, and his words turn into a quiet gasp. You love the sound of his voice, especially now that he is so needy. You wonder if he knew you’d like this too much, which is why he wasn’t letting you top him - until now. “My love, please,”

“Do you really want it that bad, baby?” you tease. “I can’t hear you clearly.”

“Please, please, please,” he pleads, a pout on his face and pretty eyes staring right up at you. “My love, please.”

“Please what, Suguru?” you say, seeing why Suguru enjoys topping you so much. It’s so hot to see him begging you to give him relief, to see him looked fucked out because of you - it’s turning you on even more than you already were. Hearing him beg for you to sit on his face had been great, but this was better.

“Please ride me, my love,” he begs, a crease forming between his usually relaxed brows. He looks so beautiful like this - hair messy and flushed face looking fucked out - his nose, and chin glisten from your slick, lips swollen from how he had been making out with your cunt. “Please, use me for you pleasure,”

“Aw, do you really want me so bad?” You tease, and he nods furiously with the adorable pout on his face. Was he afraid of how much he’d enjoy this?

You finally put his suffering to an end, taking his cock and pushing it into your wet cunt, gasping at the full feeling even just the tip of his pretty cock brought. Even with your orgasm not so long ago, you have to be slow in sinking down, giving yourself time to adjust to his size. You force your eyes to stay open, watching how Suguru’s pretty face looks with his mouth hung open in a silent oh and eyes squeezed shut in bliss. The rise and fall of his chest is temptation incarnate - you pinch his nipple in one hand and nibble on the other, and the moan you receive in response is one that you will never forget.

You’re still for a while, and the flushed Suguru finally opens his pretty eyes to look at you, sitting prettily on his cock, a feline grin on your face. You lean down, breasts brushing against his chest as you plant kisses on his neck and jaw, nipping here and there. “Aww, you pretty baby,” you coo, enjoying teasing him. His grip on your hips tighten - you wonder how long he will hold himself back from all of your teasing. You grind your hips in a back and forth motion, and his groan goes right from your ear to your cunt, clenching around him deliciously.

“Stop teasing me,” he whimpers, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

“Oh, poor baby,” you tease, “Is it not fun to be teased?”

He pouts, whimpering again when you clench around him, slick and pre gathering at the base of his cock. His pretty eyes fly between your eyes and your cunt swallowing him whole, unable to decide where to look at. Suguru looks so cute - you can’t help but kiss him, a kiss which he fervently returns. You tangle your fingers in his hair and tug at it just the way he likes it. With your other hand, you move his hands to your ass, loving the way he plays with your flesh.

Suguru lets out a sound - downright a growl as you give him the freedom to knead your ass, and he does - he plays with it so good you almost let up your control.

“Mo-oove, please,” he pleads, neck and face a lovely shade of red. 

“Pretty please?,” you tease, 

“Pretty please, my love,” he relents, giving you puppy eyes that you didn’t know he was capable of. The sight of it is so beautiful you involuntarily give in, and start finding your pace on top of him. Your head falls back once you find the right pace and rhythm, feeling his mushroom tip hit against your sweet spot just the right way, still sensitive from your previous high. It’s mind numbing, but you force yourself to look down at your boyfriend, giving him your best sultry eyes.

He’s lost in his own world, gasping and whimpering at your pace, which bullies his cock just right, your weight on him as you use him to your pleasure, the way your delicious body moves against him, the wet squelch coming from where the two of you were connected, it’s all too much, and the only thing holding him back is the flesh of your ass in his big hands.

His brain short circuits when you move your hands to this throat from his chest, squeezing his neck just enough to make breathing a little difficult, the way your cunt presses against his pubic bone, swallowing him whole - it’s electrifying, setting his nerves on fire, and he can’t help but plead, “please, please, please” he don’t know what he is pleading for, but you do - and when your movement quickens, and your left hand leaves his neck to play with your tits.

He knew it would be too much for him, too much for him to see you lose your mind while riding him, using him as nothing but a means of your pleasure. It’s dizzying, but he forces his eyes to stay open, to drink in the sight of you, but all that does is make the knot in his stomach tighten. You’re like a goddess of the heavens blessing a mere earthling like him with your magnificent body. The pace of your hips stutters a bit and you clench around him - both his dick and the hand on his neck squeezing it tighter.

“I’m close,” he whimpers, the knot in his stomach threatening to snap.

“Cum baby, come for me,” you look down at him, hair messy, lips bitten raw and red, eyes ready to combust him on the spot.

As if on cue, the knot in his stomach snaps, and he releases inside of your snug walls, your slick and his cum slipping out as you don’t relent on your pace, continuing to use him to chase your second high. He nearly curls onto himself as the overstimulation kicks in, your walls gripping his sensitive cock like a vice and your hands on his chest, playing with his very sensitive nipples.

You continue the sweet torture through his pleas and gasps, not stopping till you reach your own second high, walls getting impossibly tighter around his cock, his whimpers push you over the edge, and you have no thoughts in your head save for calls of his name. You back arches, pushing your clit just right against his pubic bone, you cry out his name as you slow down the motion of your hips, thoroughly exhausted and ready to drop.

“You did so good for me, baby,” you force yourself to remain sitting, gently cradling a twitching Suguru’s head in your hand. You run your hands through his silky hair and kiss him on the forehead, waiting for his overstimulation to die down before getting off him.

You drop next to him on the bed, and he is quick to pull you into his embrace, still sounding out of breath as he says, “I think you killed me a little, pretty girl.”

You giggle, kissing the tip of his nose, and he returns the affection, kissing all over your face and barely letting you speak. “And I am unable to feel my legs,”

“I’ll clean you up in a bit,” he promises, snuggling closer to you, nose buried in your neck. “You know what, we should do this more often,”

“Of course,” you say, giggling. “You were the one who was so adamantly  against it, not me!”

“And you’ve taught me my lesson, pretty girl,” he relents, purring in your ear. “I’d let you use me anytime,”

“Stop saying things like that, I’m enjoying this way too much,” you giggle, caressing his back. Both your hair is a mess, but you are too exhausted to do anything but sleep. You’ll worry about your sweaty hair later.

“Love you so much, pretty girl,” his smooth voice whispers. “You’re so perfect,”

“Love you too, baby,” you whisper to him, already feeling the embrace of sleep.

A/N: Second time writing smut, and ofc its for my babygirl mother of two daughters

[skylarsblue]

✦I have more C.o.D Quotes✦

Gaz: How’s your head? Y/N: Well, I haven’t had any complaints yet. Gaz: …excuse me? Y/N: Oh uh, I think I’ll live-

-- (Somewhere in Greece with a fuck ton of cats) Ghost, watching Price sneeze every five seconds: What a catastrophe. Gaz: No. Y/N: PFFT- Soap: Stop, no, don’t encourage him. Y/N: Ahem! Right, right. Not funny. Ghost: I am purrfectly capable of being funny. Y/N: *struggling* Gaz: Sometimes I wish you didn’t have a mouth.

-- Just a scene of Y/N taking out a bottle of whiskey, unscrewing they cap, then putting one of those lid caps on. (Like the ones you have on those fancy Gatorades) Taking a huge swig and closing the cap on it as Soap watches in amusement, & Price in fear.

-- Ghost: Quit messing with my hand. Soap: Quit messing with my hair! Y/N: Quit being gay. Gaz: PFFFT Y/N: Both problems solved.

-- Y/N, on the comms: You have thirteen seconds before the building fucking explodes you hot topic wannabe- Ghost: … Y/N: And you green gumball son of a bitch. Gaz: Wha-?! Soap: *WHEEZE* Y/N: You have done nothing but ruin my life; I hope you both die.

-- Soap, Gaz, & Y/N: *cackling* Laswell, losing at poker: I miss my wife, Price. Price: *places down cards* Laswell: I miss my wife.

-- Ghost, overstimulated & a lil drunk: AHHHHHH MY BONES Y/N: *frantically getting headphones* Soap, drunk: *wheeze* Gaz: Ah. I know I should’ve- *dies coughing* Soap: *more wheezing*

-- Graves *kicks in door* WHO POSTED MY NUDES ON TWITTER DOT COM?! Y/N: SUCK IT, BITCH BOY!! Alejandro: *aggressively slapping his leg while silently laughing* Rudy: *pointing and laughing* Valeria, in handcuffs: Ha, dumbass.

-- Graves: Bitch, you are gonna get in this car or I’m popping between ya eyes! Valeria: Hey, I know you. I saw your dick on Twitter! Graves: NOOOOOO Y/N: AHAHA!

-- Graves: C’mon Johnn- Y/N: *chucks a rock at Graves’ head* Graves: OW, WHY?! Y/N: NO JOHNNY FOR YOU! He goes by Soap and we respect that! Graves: Ghost calls him that! Y/N: CAUSE GHOST HAS PERMISSION, you EARN the right to Johnny! And I will be damned if anyone else earns the right before me. I been working my ass off to get the Johnny privilege and you will NOT get it for free! Soap, who’s just been standing there the whole time: *leans to Gaz* Have they actually been taking it that seriously? Gaz: Yeah. They’ve also been working real hard to try and get the right to call Captain “John”. Shoulda seen their face when I said they can call me Kyle. Soap: That’s…really sweet, I’ll give’em permission later. Gaz: Why not now? Soap: I wanna see that bastard get chewed out some more.

-- Y/N, perched on Price’s desk: Captain. Price: *sigh* Y/N: Captain I crave violence.

-- Ghost: Your family line deserves to die with you, only shame it didn’t end before you. Graves: ….I just sat down!

-- Y/N: You’re like…the human incarnation of crumbs in the bed. Graves: Oh c’MON THAT’S REAL MEAN Ghost: It’s true though. Y/N: The kinda crumbs that you keep swiping away but somehow they never leave- Graves: Alright! You know what- Soap: Like getting in bed after going to the beach. Gaz: Sand in the bed, yeah. Feels like that when he talks. Graves: I’M JUST GONNA FUCKIN LEAVE! Y/N: *watches him go* Annnd now the sheets have been changed. Ghost: Clean from filth. Alejandro: You all are so cruel and it’s perhaps the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.

-- Gaz: Things Gucci with you? Y/N: It’s Goodwill at best, my guy. Price: I don’t know what this means but I feel like I should be concerned.

-- (Mild NSFW Jokie Time) Gaz: You alright? You been zoned out. Y/N: Hm? Nah I’m good, just having depraved thoughts. Gaz: Depraved, you say? Soap: Oh do tell. Y/N: You just…you ever see someone and think “they have pretty eyes”. And that’s normal. But then the little devil in the back of ya skull goes “yeah they’d look good rolled back”. Or am I just a whore? Gaz: That is depraved. Soap: Got a good point though.

-- Y/N: Ooo! Look! Old pictures of Captain, this one’s dated. You would’ve been…19 in this one. Lemme s-…… Gaz: Lemme see! ….. Price: What? Y/N: …..you were a whore, weren’t you captain? Gaz: That’s the face of an arrogant bastard who fucks regularly. Price: I…might’ve been a bit of a playboy. Y/N: And I would’ve fallen for it you god damn bastard, no ones fACE SHOULD BE THAT NICE!

-- Valeria, painting her nails: I might kill my ex, not the best idea. His new girlfriend’s next- Alejandro: ….. Rudy: ….should I be worried? Alejandro: Move away quietly and pray.

-- Ghost: For the record this is self destructive. Soap, chugging his 5th energy drink in the past hour: For the record, I’m aware of that.

-- MILF!Y/N: Boys. Bed, now. I wanna talk to your captain. Price: No, boys stay. Please stay- Y/N: Go. Price: Stay. The boys: *concern, panic, perhaps a bit of fear* Y/N: Go! Price: Stay! Y/N: You go! Soap: *speed walking* Price: Soap, stay! Y/N: NOW! Gaz: *slowly backing away* Price: Gaz, don’t move! Y/N: YOU GO! Price: SIMON- Ghost: *leaving*

-- Ghost: What was Plan A? Soap: …don’t fuck up. Ghost: And what was Plan B? Gaz: Don’t fuck up Plan A. Ghost: And what did you do? Y/N: …fucked up plan a- Ghost: YOU FUCKED UP PLAN A-

-- Ghost: What’s rule number one? Soap, with dynamite: Party! Ghost: NO! No, not party! No!

-- Graves: How about after this, we get a drink? Y/N: …I would rather gouge out my eyes and blindly navigate a way to turn them into earrings than ever be anywhere alone with you. Soap, grinning: Ooooo brutal! Ghost: Karma.

-- Ghost: Wait…Johnny’s into me? Like…he LIKES me?? Gaz: Oh Si…you poor, sad, dense mother fucker.

-- Ghost: At least nothing of importance was lost. Laswell: …Graves was kidnapped. Ghost: I know. I said what I said. Y/N: Nothing of value was lost but we did shed off some trash! Ghost: Precisely.

-- Ghost: These lights make me wanna pull my eyes out and eat them. Medic!Y/N: *turns lights off in favor of a lamp* …alright, so you’re autistic, good to know.

-- Ghost: Should I get my reading glasses? Y/N: Oh no no, this isn’t an eye test. It’s a GAY test. Now tell me, *holds up picture of Farah & Graves; Price being 1* Number one, or number two? Ghost: Number one?… Y/N: Interesting. *holds up Farah & Soap, Soap being 2* Okay now number one, or number two? Ghost: *gasp* Y/N: Number two, right? Ghost: Maybe I am gay?

-- Waitress: So, I’ve gotta ask, I’m really curious. 141: ? Waitress: Have any of you ever used like…the military language in bed? Soap: Naaaah. Y/N: No, I don’t- PFFFT, I- *wheeze* I’m sorry I’m imagining it- Gaz: *biting back laughs* Y/N: “You gonna come?” Affirmative. *laughs* Soap: *WHEEZE* Gaz: *cackling* Price: Oh lord- Gaz, snickering: Picking up speed. Y/N: COPY- *Laughter x100* The entire team: *giggling like hyenas* Ghost: Uh, that’s a no. I don’t think we’ve done that.

-- Price: *smiles at Soap & Gaz being stupid* Y/N: I like when you smile. Price: …huh? Y/N: Your smile, I like it. Makes your eyes crinkle up and your beard makes you look like a cuddly bear. You should smile more. Price, internally on the verge of tears: *fond sigh* Get back to drills, soldier. Y/N: Yes sir!

-- Ghost: *minding his fucking business* Y/N: You have pretty eyes. Ghost: *chokes on air* Pardon? Y/N: You have pretty eyes. Ghost: No I-…they’re just brown. Y/N: So? Your eyes don’t have to be blue or green to be pretty. They’re pretty because they’re expressive, and when the sun hits them they look like syrup. I like’em best when we’re all at a bar. They get brighter then. Ghost: Ghost: …stop talking, sergeant. Y/N: Copy that, L.T! <3

-- Gaz: *laughing at something on his phone* Y/N: You have a great laugh. Gaz: Hm? Oh…really? Y/N: Mhm. It’s cute, comes from your chest. I’ve never heard you laugh in anyway that’s not genuine. Really fills the room with joy. Gaz: Dude, you’re gonna make me all soft with words like that. Y/N: All according to plan!

-- Soap: *rambling about something* Y/N: *listening intently* Soap: Then-…ah, I been talkin’ at you this whole time, eh? Should probably quiet down. Y/N: No no, I like your voice! Soap: Eh? Y/N: It’s super energetic and loud, and when you tell a joke or talk about something you love, it’s like you can hear your smile. It’s really fun to listen to. I like when you talk! Soap: *inhale* You’re gonna make me cry- Y/N: I have tissues!

-- König: *fidgeting* Y/N: *takes his hands* You have beautiful hands. König: Wh- Huh?? No they are not. Y/N: They are too! König: Nien, they’re rough and calloused, they break a lot of things… Y/N: They also pet stray cats, make the best coffee on base, and create crotchet works of art. They also mend wounds pretty well. Yeah they fire guns but that doesn’t make them less beautiful. König: *he’s actually crying* …Danke. Y/N: Don’t mention it!

-- Rudy: *rolling his shoulder* Y/N: Anyone ever tell you that you have great shoulders? Rudy: Hm? Oh uh…no, I don’t believe so. Y/N: Well you do! Rudy: Ah, gracias. When I was younger I wanted them to be broader, sometimes now I wish they were more narrow. Can never really be happy with’em, you know? Y/N: Well I think you should be. They’re strong! *gently pats his shoulders* They hold a lot of weight, metaphorically and physically. And even when they’re weighed down, you shoulder it and keep moving. You’re real good at that! I like your shoulders. Rudy, prepared to die for them: …gracias. Y/N: No problem! Now c’mon, the guys are waitin’ for us!

-- Y/N: You have good collarbones. Alejandro: What was that? Y/N: Sorry, I know that’s real specific, but I think your collarbones are pretty. It’s like…the rest of you is bulky and strong, rugged. Then you have these delicate bones. I’m probably being too poetic but it’s like a subtle nod to your gentler side, just, built into your body. Alejandro: …you have a lovely way with words, camarada. Y/N: Thank you! I appreciate that!!

[lolishdes]

“Beauty and Pleasure Incarnate” Diluc x Reader

✧A/N: Just some Diluc Headcanons I have, be warned these are all nsfw, so just keep scrolling down if uninterested! Also if this blows up then I might make a part 2 since I still got some headcanons in mind hehe

I made reader as neutral as I can for the ladies, all of you deserve love from our gorgeous man. But reader can also be anyone you want! Never specified that reader is a cis woman so 👀

✧Warning/s: This is all pure filth let me tell you! Best to keep it a surprise and just read if for yourselves ;3 

Minors kindly don't interact!

Diluc is definitely a gentle and passionate lover, once he loves you there's nothing he won't do for you. And when it comes to your alone times in the evenings, he makes sure to give everything you desire. 

Diluc doesn't enjoy degrading you, bullying you a little? Sure. But he would much prefer to give you sweet compliments and praises –– praises that he knows that will rile you up. He has way too much respect for you to even degrade you, especially in an activity such as this. And when it comes to calling you names he loves calling you traditional pet names like beloved, sweetheart, my love, gorgeous, beautiful, and all that sappy stuff. If he's feeling a little more dirty he loves calling you his little minx or vixen. 

When it comes to sex he isn't in favor of outdoor or quickies, he wants a proper place for you two to explore one another's bodies. He thinks that it's only proper to do so, since such an intimate act should only be shared in a setting with absolute privacy. He lives for foreplay, in fact it's his favorite part. He wants to worship every single part of your body. Your beautiful body just does things to him, it's obvious considering the bulge forming down his pants.

Diluc knows you're weak to kisses, and those kisses vary from your lips, to your chest, or even on that swollen clit of yours. He’ll make sure to kiss every part you want him to, just use your words, okay? He’s pretty verbal too when making love to you, quite the opposite with how he usually acts. But you suppose it's because in such a moment both of you feel so vulnerable and connected that he doesn't mind letting his mind and mouth do some extra work. 

His dynamic is definitely the giver, or more specifically a service Dom. Acts of service is his love language and that still applies in the bedroom.

Eating you out makes him heat up until the tips of his toes, it's just so filthy with the sound of squelching and your hands roughly pulling on his red locks. But he doesn't mind, in fact it just turns him on even more, your desperation is so sexy to him and he wants nothing more than to make you feel good. To hell with his aching cock, your swollen cunny needs some loving! Also while eating you out he definitely palms himself through his boxers, just to ease some of that tension building up.

He finds that both of you enjoy a deep but slow pacing when it comes to thrusting. The action is just so overwhelming and less energy consuming really. 

Since this is such an intimate act, Diluc wants to see every single facial expression you make,  to see the beautiful lady that he has fallen in love with. Naturally he chooses missionary as his favorite position, but sometimes he wants to spice things up and fucks you in a mating press instead!

When finally putting it in he makes sure to rub himself on your clit first, just to stimulate you a little bit more. He goes slow while his hands are gripping your thighs. “Oh archons beloved– you feel so warm.” On the other hand you're gripping the sheets and breathless. “Luc please–” “Shh shh i've got you, come here.” He silences you with a deep kiss while his hips slowly thrust forward. 

Definitely loves to overstimulate you, to see tears of pure euphoric feeling of coming and the absolute torture as he starts thrusting inside you again. But he is not doing this to bully you, he just wants to make you feel so good!

After he gives you your last orgasm he expects to see your legs shaking, your form breathless and pure satisfaction. He swipes some strands of hair to your ear so that they won't tickle your face too much and after doing so he flops down beside you. He gives you a warm hug and press kisses on your shoulders.

Due to too much pleasure you try to move away from him, but you know better than to run, and he knows his beautiful lady is just a little overwhelmed! Don't worry, he’ll pin you back down with one hand on your waist and another above your hand, see now there's no way to escape!

“My dear are you alright? Oh don't come running off now, come back here, that's it, I just want to make you feel better.”  He presses a tender kiss on cheek as he looks at you lovingly. You on the other hand was completely disheveled, your hair was a mess, eyes completely cloudy and head all fuzzy. Without warning he thrusts slowly but deeply inside of you, a whine escapes as your back arches. 

“Look how beautiful you look right now, absolutely breathtaking. You don't mind if I break you a little more do you, my love?” He sounds so sweet, as if he isn't completely making your legs all shaky and weak. You try to use words however your mind was too consumed with pleasure, but thats okay! Diluc knows this and would gladly help you with your words.

“Don’t worry I’ll take care of you, just lay there and feel good alright?” He is so reassuring with his sweet words, makes you feel safe and loved and you adore that about him.

“You’re perfect.” 

[silverzoomies]

Cunning Linguist

pietro maximoff x reader smut

warnings: cunnilingus, porn with (slight) plot, blow jobs, dissociative identity disorder, dissociation, existential crisis, smut, shameless smut, halloween, canon divergence

word count: 3,990

a/n: i meant to finish this ages ago. but i always overthink shit. i rewrote this several times, and it still doesn't feel worth posting. oh well !! just meaningless filth - same old story, different clothing. i wanted to play with the concept of pietro as an alter in ralph's head. again. lol

he's a little ooc here. but i'm blaming the brain fog. i'm running on three hours of sleep every night. fuck it, we ball. also, not including a tag list because tumblr's system kinda sucks for it. sorry !!

Pietro recalled the moment his consciousness came to light.

Agnes waved her spooky hands in his face, as though she were taunting him. She muttered incantations under her breath. The words of which Pietro didn’t recognize as English. After implanting sentimental memories in his mind - based on stories of Wanda’s childhood - she sent him off on his own. Like letting a dog loose, free to roam. 

Pietro’s mission? Find Wanda, have a gabfest or two, extract information. Or something along those lines. Pietro hadn’t paid much attention while Agnes yapped about it. Why focus on that, when the mystery of his own sentience piqued his interest instead?

He was given an easy enough job to do. No problem-o. Pietro had a talent for pestering people til’ they cracked. That’s what Agnes told him, anyway. He wasn’t too sure why she wanted him to play undercover rat. It had something to do with magic. Pietro knew that much. There was some kinda witch-on-witch rivalry in the works. But unfortunately for Agnes - and maybe fortunately for Wanda - she might have to take a raincheck on her duel of the sorceresses.  

Pietro could be a bit of a dipshit. Was he stupid? Not so much. He had brains where it counted. He could be crafty. Even sneaky. But his expert level slyness didn’t make him any less of an idiot. Pietro couldn’t refute that factoid about himself. Around Wanda, he forgot how to function like a normal person. Which he blamed on the fact that he wasn’t a normal person. Being brutally honest with himself; Pietro technically wasn’t even a person at all.

More like a conceptual incarnation of human sentience, really. Simple enough.

No ifs, ands, or buts about it, though - Pietro carried the irksome flaws of a human. Often, he acted thoughtless when he didn’t mean to. Without filtering himself first, Pietro unapologetically spoke his mind. He’d drop fourth-wall breaking quips here or there. Sometimes, his careless habits made for entertaining slip ups. Perfect for sitcom shenanigans. Other times, his blunders resulted in pain. Lotsa pain.

Halloween night, Pietro found himself whisked away by a forceful wave. Conjured by Wanda’s potent magic. The same power Agnes wanted her wiggly witch fingers on. After going aerial in a wild whoosh, Pietro got up close and friendly with some Halloween decorations. But, hey, what’re a few broken bones between pseudo siblings, eh?

Wanda sure had a helluva temper. She quickly banished Pietro from ever setting foot in her house again. Talk about a major bummer. Pietro suffered a huge loss on that front. One part because he’d have no choice but to crash with Agnes again. Ninety nine parts because he’d miss his troublemaking nephews. Those fun, lil scamps.

Tough luck, Quickie. Try and do better next time.

Honestly, he’d prefer if there wasn’t a next time.  If Agnes wanted to make small talk so bad, she could do it on her own. Calling it quits for the night, Pietro wandered off to a Westview bar. To his surprise, he found the place still in operation. And despite Pietro’s memories - vague imagery of Busch beer cans crushed under his fist - he hadn’t had a beer since his consciousness manifested. Shit. Did he even like beer? Whether he cared for it or not, a subconscious instinct drew him to it.

He assumed that instinct was none other than Ralph himself. The poor dude wanted to drown his terror in alcohol. And after all the twisted shit Agnes put Ralph through; who was Pietro to deny him one of life's simplest pleasures?

The mellow atmosphere of the bar oozed Halloween spirit. Kinda unnecessary, in retrospect. Considering Wanda never stopped by for a drink. Why bother sprucing the place up with her wispy magic, if it never saw any use?

The bartender’s clever quips reminded Pietro of Cheers. Another totally bonkers concept. Pietro had memories of watching Cheers, sure. But he couldn’t decipher if they were Ralph’s or not. For all Pietro knew, they might be a part of the ‘dead brother’ package deal. False memories, meant to give Wanda someone to relate to. Making him liable to tear down her defenses when she least expected it. 

But why did Pietro get the sense he was more of a Frasier guy anyway?

Sitting at the bar on a rickety stool, Pietro spun around to satiate his boredom. He cradled a beer, inhaling all of it in a single beat. Superspeed really did have its ups and downs. Consider quick consumption a positive. As far as negatives go…well…inebriation was completely unattainable. Sucks for Ralph. As Pietro flagged down the bartender for another beer, he tuned his ears to a radio broadcast. On a shelf amidst dollar store Halloween decor; a radio droned old fashioned tales of wicked witches. Subtle.

Outside interference interrupted the broadcast. Voices intermingled between buzzes of static. Whispering soft, but panicked mantras of 'Wanda? Wanda, are you there?' Pietro narrowed his beady eyes. His ignorance of the world outside Westview should’ve stayed intact. But whatever the reason, he knew exactly where those voices came from. Why he carried such knowledge was anyone’s guess. Maybe Agnes let too much her own insight slip into his psyche. Whoopsies. Oh well. Shrugging, Pietro flagged down the bartender for another beer. Deja vu.

Bored outta his mind, his thoughts explored elsewhere.

Pietro dreamt of something a little more down to earth. He remembered a cutie-pie neighbor new to Westview. A ‘next door’ kinda type, with a quirky sorta charm. They had no idea why they were in the city to begin with. Pietro knew these details, only because he gathered the what’s what on just about every person in town. It took him all of two seconds to do so. Zip around. Observe. Make mental notes. Report back to Agnes. Spill the deets.

Anyway, about you…

Call it a crush, loneliness, or even instinctive lust; whatever the case, Pietro thought you were cute as could be. You didn’t remember how you got to Westview, or where you even came from. One day, you woke up in town, and found yourself wearing unfamiliar clothes. Threads evocative of decades long past. But hey, it happens to the best of us. Pietro was well-acquainted with feelings of confusion and alienation. That mingled sense of being both lost, and born anew.

For crying out loud, he was the very materialization of sapient awareness itself. Agnes forbade him from that knowledge as well. But again, Pietro credited his oopsies and ding-dongs to her shoddy miracle work.

Whenever you questioned the reality around you, the world only stifled you into silence. The everyday citizens of Westview seemed so content with life as it was. Acting as if you had nothing to worry about. Wanda’s sitcom setup was nothing beyond sunshine, rainbows, and television tropes. But Pietro could see the unspoken terror hidden deep in their eyes. The truth Wanda kept hush hush.

Just thinking about it was enough to give Pietro the heebie jeebies. And if his intuition was anything to go by - it never proved him wrong yet - you had a bad feeling about Westview too. Way to go! You caught on even quicker than he did. Which was kinda nuts, if he thought about it. Wasn’t he supposed to be the fastest at everything? ‘Cuz speed was his middle name or something. Or…well, it wasn’t. But it could be. Who’s to stop him from seizing his own destiny at this point?

Pietro Speed Maximoff.

Eh, maybe not.

In Westview, you had no friends or family. And much like Pietro, on Halloween night; you found yourself at the bar. He caught your curious gaze from down the counter. You were dolled up in a scanty, witch's dress, leaving Pietro to wonder why witches were such a recurring theme in his life. Looking too much like a manchild goober, he spun around a few more times in his seat. His sneakers kicked against the stool’s railing. No matter what, he couldn’t sit still. He thought he might be embarrassing himself. But his antics appeared to make you smile even brighter.

Tilting your head, you shot him a look of familiarity.

You weren’t familiar with him, though. But there was a chance you saw him appearing and disappearing around town. During his impromptu stake outs, more than likely.

Bringing your drink to the seam of your lips, you stifled a playful giggle. It was obvious you were gawking at his costume. Arching a brow, Pietro grinned into the rim of his beer bottle. To be fair, he looked supremely ridiculous. The blue tights under his cut-off jean shorts rode up in the crotch a little too much. He dipped his head, staring at the frayed edges of his shorts. Yeah. It was clear he did the job cutting them himself. A hasty one too. Since he was too eager to pull pranks with his nephews.

Damn. Pietro missed those kids like hell already.

The dirty blond hair/ear-things atop his head bounced every time he knocked his neck back. As Pietro downed yet another beer, he lost track of how many he drank. A dribble of it plummeted into silver. Creating a sheen against the lightning bolt duct taped diagonally down his shirt. Pietro sighed and pursed his lips. 

His outfit was an all blue ensemble. Garnished with a spritz of silver here or there. Quicksilver. His hero name, apparently. Pietro knew he’d never live up to it.

A bit of friendly conversation later, and the air between the two of you shifted. Your playful look morphed into something a little wanton, the more Pietro acted in silly ways. Holy shit. Seriously? He hoped he wasn't misreading your signals. Because really, your attraction was too good to be true. If you honestly wanted him, where should he proceed from here? How much freedom had Agnes even allowed him? And furthermore - if Wanda’s happy, dream town ran on a curated schedule; what if credits rolled just as the two of you finally got handsy?

Maybe sitcom rules didn’t apply to conscious manifestations of witch hocus pocus? Wishful thinking on his part.

Outside the bar - in an alleyway too uncannily clean, like a set straight out of Hollywood - Pietro beckoned you in with kisses. Technically, he played the role of Agnes’s deadbeat husband. And if that were the case, did kissing you count as cheating? Shit…was Pietro committing adultery right now?? In the midst of macking on your sweet lips, he pressed a palm to the wall next to your head. Pietro pretended to do so for balance, as he devoured you with his mouth and tongue. 

But unbeknownst to you, he cracked an eye open. Just to double check for a wedding band.

Nothing there to prove he ever got hitched. Go figure.

You giggled coyly into his lips, letting a soft moan ease through your teeth. Bringing your hands up to the hair/ear-things on his head, you toyed with them. Your pretty voice teased him, as you played with his hair in gentle strokes of your thumbs.

“Ooooh…such a good boy, huh? Fast too.” You cooed, the same way one might praise a puppy.

Oh. Fuck yeah. To hell with sitcom tropes and bogus wives. Agnes scared the ever-loving shit out of Pietro anyway. He had no semblance of a domestic connection to her. Not that she gave much of a damn herself. With how often she threw insults his way. Agnes always used Ralph as her little punching bag, before hijacking his body for her own gain.

No wonder your simple praises got his proverbial tail wagging.

A chuckle hummed in the back of his throat, as Pietro purred into your lips, “Speed’s kinda my middle name, y’know?”

You snorted one of the dorkiest laughs he’d heard since cognisant birth. And with a sudden spark of primal urgency; Pietro felt something else spring into transcendence down below. 

Sifting through Ralph’s sidelined psyche, Pietro came to realize how much of a recluse he was. The guy never seemed to get out much. In fact, Agnes might’ve even been his first partner. If one could classify her as such. So, really, Pietro was doing him a major favor. If Ralph knew he planned on using their body for some frisky fun - on an otherwise lonely Hallow’s eve - surely, he’d give his brain roomie some thanks.

Pietro’s hands were vascular like a wired-up machine, clad in arm-warmer paws. Grabbing hard onto your curvy hips with them, he pulled you in closer. He sought the friction of your crotch against his. And after some seriously sloppy making out, Pietro dropped you an invite to his place.

Or…Agnes’s place.

Uh…or…was it technically Ralph’s? Shit, this sitcom roleplay sure gave way to some mental gymnastics.

You didn’t expect Pietro to zip you off at superspeed. Moving abruptly fast, he brought you straight to his disaster of a man cave. Laying you back on the futon, he gave you little time to adjust over the blankets. The wrinkled fabrics reeked of pot, in desperate need of a wash. You got as comfy as you could on the skunky sheets. Blinking your needy gaze up at him, you tugged his white belt, pulling the band undone. Pietro grinned lazily, colliding his swollen lips into yours. His primal instincts left him wreckless with want. 

Burying his tongue in the cavern of your mouth, he brought with him the flavor of cheap booze. As you tasted him, you moaned, shucking his dumb jorts down his hips. A sizable swelling twitched in his tights, squirming under muted blue. Your eyes bulged in their sockets, cartoonishly wide. The way you whirled your tongue across your lip gave off a vibe of animalistic hunger. As though you were eager for an all dick dinner. With Pietro as the appetizer.

And the main course. And the dessert. He hoped you'd rate him five stars.

Restaurant metaphors aside; this was the very first test of his capabilities as a lover, after all. If he couldn’t live up to his superhero name, maybe he could make a name for himself in other ways.

Pietro Speed Maximoff. Quicksilver. Cunning Linguist.

But first…he really should satiate your hunger.

One, generous tug downward, and Pietro’s - or Ralph’s - slightly above average length sprang out. Bouncing in your face in mesmerizing oscillation, his cock appeared pulsating and roused. Thick veins weaved like threads through his shaft, akin to his vascular hands. His balls bulged in his tights, his jorts hanging halfway down his thighs. Pietro took his blistering cock in hand. Aching for the kind of stimulation Ralph never got, his desire painted him so flush and ruby red. 

Since you looked so delighted at the sight before you; Pietro gave his cock a few strokes. He played with himself for your viewing pleasure. And as his firm grip tugged his shaft, the world pulled suddenly back. It was as though Pietro viewed life through a third person perspective. Metaphorical cameras fixed their lenses on the two of you, in an all too human position of closeness. 

The weight of a cock in Pietro’s hand felt both familiar, yet weirdly foreign. Combine that with the sight of another living, breathing body below him; and his nerves buzzed uncomfortably. Frenzied in such a way that matched the quick pulsing of his heart. Focusing instead on your fluttering eyes, Pietro weaned himself out of dissociation. Your hands braced his hips, thumbs circling the fabric of his tights. The gentle gesture brought chills throughout his body. Inching forward, you teased his bobbing cock with a flick of your tongue.

Wet heat grounded him in reality. Upon racing to the forefront of his own mind; Pietro’s breath hitched with a husky groan. He held your head, massaging his fingers in your soft hair. Cute mewls spilled from your lips as you flitted your eyes shut. Swirling your tongue over his cock’s puffy head, you lapped any tearful pearls of precum. His thickness sank between your plush lips, and Pietro’s own lips parted for breath.

Of all things to happen on Halloween night, getting his dick sucked wasn’t on the docket.

Not that Pietro had any reason to complain. This? Wicked awesome. Ralph was really missing out.

You drew lazily back just to lap his balls over his tights, staining fabric with slick saliva. Rolling the tip of your tongue up the underside of his dick, you giggled in that dorkish way again. Pietro’s teeth pulled his lip as he tilted his head back. His dick twitched, throbbing while the heat of your mouth embraced him fully. He moaned, smiling wide enough to show off his dimples. You pumped his cock at the base, teasing his veins with your tongue.

Pietro’s brows turned inward. You suckled his head like you longed to guzzle anything he could give. He sank his fingers deeper through your hair, holding on tightly as he rutted his hips. With each slam of his weeping tip into your throat; he hoarsely grunted. You really did try your best, just for him. Even as tears spilled down your cheeks and your lips began to swell. Plush and puffy, circling his slick length. Pietro kicked up the speed at which he rutted.

Fighting his instincts, he was cautious enough not to choke you. Or, he wanted to be cautious. He braced his hands on both sides of your tear stained face, his arm warmer paws soft against your cheeks. Sinking his dick even deeper between your lips, he accidentally went balls deep. The wet fabric of his tights smothered your chin. You sputtered on his cock, which made your throat wring him so tight. As your tongue curled, sliding under the thrum of his veins; Pietro cursed. Playful chuckles and shameful apologies fell from his lips.

Bitter heat coated your tongue in sweltering jets, thick and explosive down your throat. Pietro’s groin twisted in a blossoming surge of pleasure. And as he ruptured your esophagus with his sticky load, he found himself that much more grounded. As if such a bombastic nut somehow tethered him to reality - securing Pietro from any further derealization. 

Righteous. His first big O since Agnes blessed him with the gift of consciousness. Significantly more electrifying than any sad, jerk sesh Ralph had in the past. And since you so humbly took him like a champ - giving Pietro a most euphoric experience; he saw it fit to return the favor ASAP.

Neither Pietro - nor Ralph, it seemed - had any experience toying around with partners. But he did have a vague knowledge of how to do so. Thanks to the backlog of not-so-safe-for-work memories deep in his subconscious. Raunchy porn, mostly. Magazines. Tapes. Jesus, Ralph…why’s there so much dirty stuff in there, huh? Lots and lots of it. Pietro would have to do his own research later.

He gave you no time to prep for his oncoming nose dive. Perched on your knees, coughing and clearing your throat - you found yourself abruptly resting on your elbows. Your upper back pressed into the futon. Pietro lifted your hips, using his strength to hike your thighs over his broad shoulders. As you parted your swollen lips to protest, blinking your reddened eyes; Pietro pulled your panties to the side. He kept the soaked lace pinned under a thick thumb. Burying his lips in your cunt, he lapped up your honeyed heat.

A sudden addiction, triggered by something carnal, overtook him instantly. Pietro became hooked on your fragrant flavor, swirling your cute bud in high-speed circles. He worked your stiff clit like a microscopic joystick, flicking wet heat in a spastic whirlwind. Alternating between drawing patterns, and sucking your precious pearl hard. Pietro so easily made you squeal - even without any prior experience - until you scratched your fingernails deep into Ralph’s sheets. Kissing your cunt, he let his thirst take over, and dove deeper.

The tune of his name melting through your moans made him wish the night would last forever. A small fraction of him hoped Ralph would never take over again. If consciousness offered rewards this scrumptious, Pietro wanted to stay sentient into eternity. Not to be selfish or whatever, but he almost considered playing minion for Agnes again - if only to secure the lifespan of his psyche.

Your supple, pussy lips parted as he wormed his tongue through your slick walls. Smooth, bumpy heat squeezed the fuzzy ridges of his tongue. In milliseconds, your fluttery love gushed over his taste buds and leaked down his chin. Tears teased the edges of your eyes. You cried whines of sugary bliss. Pietro’s thumb kept your panties pinned, his other hand locked around your thigh.

He smirked into your pussy, deep chuckles burning hot on your mound. And since the position wasn’t exactly the most comfortable; he allowed you some reprieve. Pushing you past your breaking point at light speed, Pietro bashed the sopping slickness of his tongue into your clit. You trembled, shuddering through powerful waves of orgasmic intensity. White-hot flashes of light flooded your vision. Under Pietro’s zippy tongue, your sweet pussy quivered.

Totes mcgoats. If he learned anything tonight - aside from the obvious lessons in subtlety; Pietro now understood why the everyday man lost his doggone marbles over puss.

After your first release, he eased your tired body into the futon. Your back met cozy blankets, engulfed in that skunk weed scent. Before you relaxed, he edged you even longer, drawing out your pleasurable suffering. Pietro sank his fingers deep into your heat, pumping the length of them inside you. His digits curled perfectly, finding every spongy spot that made your core burst with a desire to cum again. His tongue teased your swollen nub until you grabbed at his hair. You mussed the funny looking ear things atop his head, pressing your palm into his forehead to try and push him back.

You begged him to stop. Pleading in disoriented whimpers, your noises went straight to his limp dick. A few more hot, wrathful waves of pleasure later - he finally stopped. Only after your cunt erupted in one more, wet burst. You leaked like a fountain into his lips, soaking his chin, even making a mess of his makeshift costume. More than worth it. Pietro sat up on the futon, admiring his handiwork. He wiped his mouth with one of his arm warmer paws. Your mouth fell agape as your lungs begged for air. More tears sparkled on your flushed cheeks, mirroring the twinkle of your pussy. Pretty as a rose in a rainshower.

With your sluggish arms, you gestured for Pietro to climb over you. And once he did, you pulled him into a lazy kiss without a single care. You paid no mind to the taste of your sweetness on his lips, or the scent of your musk on his chin. Sleepily blinking, you bravely asked if you could stay the night. Too tuckered out to even consider a long walk back home.

Pietro could just as easily speed you over to your place. But even at the risk of his not-wife catching him in bed with someone else - he felt too adverse to loneliness. Besides...your company brought him more delight than he ever expected of anyone. Settling into the futon, he popped on Ralph’s old TV set.

Cheers was on. Pietro snickered to himself, rolling his dark eyes.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, snuggled up against Pietro’s strong form. He’d changed clothes at some point in the night, finally foregoing the tights. Oh, and he lended you one of Ralph’s shirts too. A Grateful Dead t-shirt, of which you were very grateful. Hah, “You don’t like Cheers?”

Pietro shrugged, sipping a beer. A Busch beer. He scowled at the taste, curling his lip.

“Eh. More of a Frasier kinda guy.”

[gingerlurk]

RAW

Joel Miller x f!Reader x EzraProspect

Out of universe. Out of character. Out of my damn mind. 

Rating: 18+ explicit MDNI – mfm, no-outbreak!Joel Miller, menace!EzraProspect, established relationship (with Joel), pair of consent kings, porn without plot, cuckholding (not really), ass slapping, tit grabbing, a touch of breath play, ass play, rimming, unprotected piv x 2 (be safe), self-pleasuring (reader & Joel), spitting x 2, a little hair pulling (only description of reader is having hair to be pulled and caressed), biting, cmnf (both men stay mostly clothed while you are naked), creampie, we’ve got a cock-drunk reader I think, maybe even a squinty breeding kink (I surprised myself there), aftercare, it’s implied Ezra is your ex (you’re cool though), he has both arms, he also has a variety of weird nicknames for you I dunno, Joel just calls you baby, Joel carries you but he’s just so strong, you know? Appearances from Frankie Morales, Javier Peña and Din Djarin. 

Look it’s just… look. Let me know if I should add any others, cheers!

Word count: 4.6k

AN: Interrupting my own Mandalorian-obsessed programming to share this self-indulgent, pure unadulterated filth. I don’t know what this is. It came to me as I was lost in an acute migraine haze and it just feels like it needs to be out of my head to bring me any kind of peace.

Honestly just a way to get me through the holiday sads at this point.

These are standalone characters, and I have thots for the other three PP boys mentioned at the start. So we’ll see how tortured I am by those/how this one goes and they may turn into follow-ups. Enjoy?!

--

He's not your first choice. He's not even your third.

But fuck, Joel wants this and you're seeing your options get shot down one after the other.

Frankie is an outright no – positive Joel is just gonna kill him the moment he lays hands on your body. Unwilling to listen to your assurances, your assertions that it wasn’t even your idea to begin with, he doesn’t relent from his refusal. 

Lifting his cap to run fidgety fingers through his hair, the gorgeous pilot turns you down with regret in his dark, sweet eyes.

Javier Peña, the sex siren incarnate, also shakes his head.

‘Don't get me wrong, hermosa,’ he croons, leaning in close. ‘I'd fuck you three different ways on three different days, no question.’ He lifts a brow, pouts. ‘But not with another man present.’

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, he says, ‘If I can have you all to myself, you call me.’

All breathy as he saunters away, you file that for later. Maybe once Joel has had his fill of this little venture, he'll be feeling generous to such a request.

And Din. Well, the mysterious perennial traveller is off overseas somewhere and no one knows when he'll show up next. Bust there. 

So it is with a little apprehension in your chest that you text the man that, as you know all too well from your wild days at uni, is up for just about anything.

The message has barely landed on read when he calls.

‘You crave defilement as your beasty man watches, do you?’ Ezra snarls into the line. ‘Want me to do it? Raw? Want him to bear witness to the things I know I can get you to do and scream?’ His voice buzzes in your ears and makes your belly thrum.

‘That's quite the prospect.’

With some brief explanations he barely even pretends to need, a date is set and you hang up with a shaky thumb to your screen.

It’s shaking again along with the rest of you as you tug the door open on the tap-tap-tap Ezra places to the glass. His half side smile turns to a lascivious grin as he sees you, eyes tracking over you – head to toe. They flick to Joel, who stands at the base of the stairs with arms crossed and jaw locked.

‘Evenin’,’ your guest greets as you wave him inside. ‘We ready for this arrangement of ours to commence?’

In answer, Joel turns and climbs the steps. Ezra looks at you with a smirk.

‘Not a talker, is he?’

‘You know he isn’t,’ you reply.

Nothin’ to say to that so you gesture and he follows. Up the stairs and into the bedroom, where Joel has already taken his position – seated in a dining chair dragged up from the kitchen, facing the far side of the bed.

Your heart flutters at the sight. At what you’re about to do.

Ezra steps up to stand beside you, where you’ve come to a stop on the opposite edge of the double-queen. 

He hisses in a breath. ‘Now, we discussed this on the phone but I am keen to confirm, with all parties here and present, that – in your words – no act, motion or gesture is strictly off the table tonight. Is that right? No glarin’ slips? In this moment, right here?’ 

‘There is the one rule,’ you say. ‘It’s a firm one.’

Ezra turns to you, raises his arms and skates a palm across each of your shoulders. It makes a sizzling path on your skin.

‘Now that small detail has not left my awareness, dear,’ he says, melty pools of want in his gaze. ‘Be most assured. Anything else?’

‘We have the safe word,’ you say, getting antsy. 

‘Mmhm, I remember that too, don’t worry,’ he replies. ‘But,’ a nod to Joel, face serious, ‘with those taken wholly and – may I add, justly – into account. To confirm?’

Joel’s jaw ticks. He looks to you for a moment. As you nod, so does he – shifting his gaze back to the man standing next to you.

‘Excellent,’ Ezra turns and gives you a thorough leer, a Cheshire grin. Eyes seizing your insides with the intent behind them. ‘Then, I would say that the next pertinent steps are for you to remove every single stitch of clothin’ adorned to your body and get on that there bed.’

You do as you’re told, shucking off top and skirt but pausing with a little trepidation at bra and panties. Ezra has to make a little ‘go on’ motion before you shed those too and – fighting the butterflies erupting in your belly – climb across the quilt.

On hands and knees, you look up and lock eyes with Joel. He’s bent forward, elbows on his own knees spread wide, gaze intent. You feel Ezra behind and a covetous grip on your thighs tugs you closer to his side of the bed.

‘So,’ Ezra murmurs. A hand lands on the small of your back, warm and large and calloused. ‘I admit I hold a curiosity that cannot be helped. And I must ask.’

The hand raises and lands with a firm smack on an ass cheek. You gasp a little and the momentum of the slap has you leaning toward Joel, whose teeth have bared just a little. He doesn’t move. The fingers behind you dig into your flesh, urge you back toward Ezra’s edge again.

‘It is a simple curiosity,’ he goes on. ‘It is only this: why?’

Another slap and, at your pained yelp, he carries on, ‘Why allow me this? This beauty who I imagine has known only your hands for the longest time? Why let me have her now…’ His palm soothes the burn of his flagellation. He waits.

Joel gives in to the slightest shrug.

‘Guess I’m curious too,’ he drawls. ‘I’ve explored every single part of this sweet thing. In’erested to see what another man’ll do with her.’

The low whistle over your shoulder is filled with relish. You hear Ezra suck in air between clenched teeth. Holding you firm, he rocks against your exposed rear, lets you feel the erection straining against his pants.

‘Every part of her, huh?’ he queries. Without warning, a huge arm wraps across your middle and slings you up. In a heartbeat, you find yourself pressed flush to his front, the rough fabric of his shirt no barrier to the heat radiating off his torso. He holds you so tight to himself, you can feel the thud thud thud of his heart between your shoulder blades.

The movement also causes your legs to twitch and you feel it. The start of your arousal leaking between your thighs. Another look at Joel, and his intense focus has you slippery and throbbing.

You breathe deep and wait, eyes now closed and listening only to two men breathing hard as well.

Ezra’s other arm moves onto you.

‘So I am given to be assured you’ve amply taken in these pretties,’ Ez growls. Both hands cup and massage your tits, bring the nipples to a standing attention. He waits. ‘Well?’

‘What d’ya think?’ Joel spits with a small head tilt.

‘Mm,’ Ez hums, nods into your shoulder. ‘Mmhm.’

Fingers move up, up, across a collarbone and to the base of your throat.

‘And here?’ he asks. ‘Have you known her here? Gifted her the dizzying sensations of restricted breath? Held her life, both gentle and savage, amidst the pressure of your digits?’

At that, he presses his middle and index fingers into the soft skin under your jaw and you feel it, just a little. Just the beginnings of light and airy pleasure pulsing in your head. His thumb strokes by your other ear.

Joel's own hands are clenched into tight fists, resting on his knees as he has straightened up. Almost primed. Like an animal ready to pounce.

‘Have you?’ The man with his hand around your neck presses.

With eyes growing hungrier, Joel nods.

That elicits a surprised little sound from Ezra.

‘Well,’ he turns his head and addresses you. The thumb engages and pushes down, in. Now you’re feeling it. Feeling it thrum from the crown of your head through your body and down to your cunt, which is decidedly dripping. ‘This bird may have flown my nest, but you took a little something learned with you, huh?’

You can’t move, can’t speak. Might just cum. Might just fucking cum and he hasn’t even touched you yet. So you just let your eyes roll back and hope Joel can see how much you love it. The choke stays light, your possessor seemingly interested only in taunting and testing. 

A tiny whine escapes your throat. Ezra lets go and you gasp a little, let your chest rise and fall as you suck in oxygen. 

Look to Joel again, feel an undeniable rush as you see he’s staring at the apex of your thighs. His shoulders rising and falling too, almost in sync with you. He can see it. You know he can.

Ezra is still holding you tight as your head lolls with abandon, falls onto his shoulder. 

Finally, finally, the hand that had been around your neck moves down. Down. 

God yes, please…

But he only barely cups your mound, doesn’t go anywhere near where you need it. 

‘And this?’ he questions unnecessarily. ‘And of course, you will have intimate carnal knowledge of this right here? Please assure me you know every single blessed millimetre of this holiest of shrines. I would be aggrieved were it not so.’ 

‘Yes,’ Joel rasps in a voice filled with fury and lust.

You can’t help yourself. You start to beg, ‘Pl- Please.’ Try to buck into his hand, for the contact, for just a little bit of friction to where you’re humming like a charged wire. But it backfires. He leaves your core and covers your mouth instead. Leans into your ear.

‘Ssh, my bird,’ he murmurs. ‘Ssh, do not fret. I’m going to take care of you.’

With a little shove, he lets you flop forwards, where you catch yourself on your forearms and bury your head between them, burning up.

With your ass still high, cool air only has a moment to make itself known before he’s drawn you close, presses himself against your thighs.

‘You impress me, Joel,’ he grits. ‘Joel, I have to say that you have indeed impressed me. And with now a… slight doubt in my conviction, I am keen to make the case there is a space within her you have yet to take solace.’

A large thumb lands between your shoulders and starts a path down your spine. It takes its time, feeling each vertebrae and letting you arch against the touch. Slipping over the sweat that beads on your skin. It comes to rest against the crease at the top of your ass cheeks. Oh god. He’s gonna--

‘So Joel, what of this?’ The snarl behind you is feral, frightening. ‘Have you made an expedition of—’

He doesn’t finish the sentence as his thumb swipes down and connects with your tight ring of muscle, presses firm there but doesn’t yet go further. 

‘Oh fuck,’ you twist your head to look back. He’s not looking down at you but up and over your head, staring at Joel.

‘Have you?’ he snarls again, making you clench.

You can’t hear or see Joel's response, but Ezra’s reaction is a look of pure delight.

‘Mmmm,’ he groans and moves his thumb just long enough to spit there before it’s back and massaging your entrance. Hot want coils in your belly as he teases and teases. God, you should have known he would really draw it out.

‘Please.’ Another plea escapes you, hitched and breathy. ‘Please.’

‘Who are you talking to, my pet?’ he asks, pressing just a little harder and leaning himself against you. You can feel his hard cock digging into your ass again. ‘To whom do you make this entreaty?’

‘You,’ you cry out. ‘You. Please, Ezra. Please, pl—’

He drops to his knees behind you and, without preamble, lays his open mouth over your asshole. Pressing hard before setting a furious pattern of licking and sucking – turning away only to bite and nip at the flesh on either side. 

The man works like he is trying to devour the universe. His tongue circles a few times before pushing inside you.

It’s unreal – a sublimity to get lost in. You let yourself sink into it. Keen and cry and buck back into him as he sets each and every nerve ending on fire.

He pushes your knees apart so you sink deeper and reach wider for him. Hands are gripping your ass to hold you open and it doesn’t seem like he’s planning to move on anytime soon, working lips and tongue and teeth across your seam and every inch he can reach.

You just can’t stand it anymore.

‘Can I touch myself?’ you gasp. ‘Can I—’

He withdraws his tongue from you with a chuckle. ‘Mmmm, what do you say?’

With a frustrated groan, ‘Please, Ezra.’

‘You do whatever it is your heart desires, sweet one,’ he grunts against you, going back to his ruminations. ‘I am quite content here.’

You’d had your face pressed into the linens of your bed, but you arch your head up to look at Joel while reaching between your thighs, stretching your shoulder to give yourself the space.

As you move, so does he. In time with desperate movement onto yourself, he leans back, undoes his belt and pulls his cock free, stroking its firm length as your fingers connect with your clit.

It’s an instant jolt of mind-numbing pleasure. The hungry bundle of nerves ready to blow. Your scream of ecstasy, echoing in the room, is responded to with a pair of deep, guttural groans. Ezra’s shoots through your body as it vibrates behind you. Joel’s rings in your ears.

The man in front of you nods, encouraging you on as you circle and work yourself. Watching his own pace, you match it and it’s not long before your mouth is locked open in an ‘O’ of bliss and you’re cumming. The wet suctioning sensation on your rear drives your orgasm along a straight and narrow rush that shoots through you so hard you’re screaming into the sheets.

As you start to be able to hear again, Joel is murmuring praises.

Huffing and heaving on the remnants of your comedown, you look up. He’s furiously fisting his cock, bent so far forward you could reach out and touch him. You don’t though, just stare with mouth-watering want, desperate to have him on your tongue and pressing down your throat.

With that thought, you rub and rub and rub. Push back, back, back on the mouth working you with a tireless appetite.

Reading your face, watching your every twitch and pulse – Joel waits for the perfect moment and-

‘Another,’ he grits out.

‘Fuh—hah!'

It comes for you with a ferocious force, taking over every muscle in your body and making you shudder with its savage intensity. Both men pause as you spasm and let a dozen tortured little ‘Ah’s escape you.

Barely able to lift your head, you twist it just enough to see the possessed demon that was once Joel – dark eyes ablaze and tendons taunt and straining on his neck. 

‘Fuck her,’ he commands. Pre-cum glistens on your view of the underside of his shaft. ‘Fuck her, now.’

Ezra pulls away from you with a slick gasp.

‘Okay, Joel,’ he says – his outer calm contrasted with Joel’s madness somehow the hottest thing happening right now. 

Ez stands, replacing his tongue with his thumb, which he pushes in to the first knuckle. At your pitched moan, he holds you there. Doesn’t seem at all bothered by your hand still working your clit as you feel the pressure of his cock’s head at your entrance. It slides through your folds and he uses his grip on your ass to guide you to back up onto him.

‘I’m going to fuck her now, Joel,’ he says, all hushed and lowly.

The motion of your hips moving back right as he – fierce and swift – bucks his cock hard into you punches the air from your lungs. The slap of his hips meeting your ass fills the room. 

So full and stretching. The emptiness replaced by shards of excruciating pleasure. It’s too much. It’s just enough.

The space is quiet for a moment and you look round, see Ezra through your blurry, tear-stained vision. He seems paralysed, head tilted a little and mouth locked open. The only movement is the hollow of his throat dipping and peaking fast – the man’s practically hyperventilating. Sweat at his temples and eyes glassy and staring at nothing.

On your knees, split open by his cock, you wait and watch. After a moment--

‘Ez?’ you question.

His eyes clench shut, as do his teeth, and he takes several deep, dragging breaths.

‘A queen’s…’ he rasps out. ‘A queen’s cunt. That is what you have. Fucking… queen of cunt.’

And at last, he fucks you. One single draw back almost to leave you, then he’s slamming into you, making sure you feel every single thrust hit your ass and thighs. Convulsing your clit every time. 

He reaches forward and grabs a fistful of your hair, using the purchase to lift your head so Joel sees your face twisted with bliss. Your tits bouncing with each smack of flesh behind you.

You can tell he’s enjoying the view, rewarding your efforts with a gaze so hot and crackling, the sight might just make you c—

The penetration in your ass leaves you and you gasp as you’re hauled up and locked against Ezra’s chest again. So that Joel has a perfect view of his cock disappearing into you. Over and over. A perfect view of your pussy being abused by him.

The man fucking you senseless grabs hold of your wrist, lifts the fingers that you’d been pleasuring yourself with and sucks on them. He moans at your taste, appreciative and reverent, like you’re a pure miracle. Pushes your hand deep so he can cram his tongue into the webbing.

‘Mm,’ he mumbles, letting your fingers go with a wet suck. He spits over your shoulder so it dribbles between your breasts. ‘But you are divine, do you know that? Does he tell you? Makes sure you know?’

All hissed into your ear as he pumps and pumps. Fucking up into you with a freakish stamina you hadn’t remembered before now but is coming back to your pleasure-buzzed mind. 

‘Allowing me to take this perfect body apart, as I see fit?’ he goes on. ‘You are divine.’

It’s just a little annoying. How coherent he still is. So – tightening your belly and bearing down – you clench your cunt around him as hard as you can and are rewarded with a pained gasp.

You don’t think he intends to, but he bolts forwards and collapses the two of you onto the bed, sprawling out over you. There’s just enough time for you to grab a pillow and shove it underneath, tipping your pelvis into him. And it doesn’t slow him at all. Flat out on your stomach, he adjusts and takes the new angle inside you with glee, hips rocking into you so hard you jolt and slide back and forth.

He ruts your pussy like the deranged animal that he is. His belly presses into the small of your back where he drives himself down into you. Teeth collect a chunk of flesh by your shoulder and bite down. Fingers tangle and lock into hair to hold your head still, so that you can’t move and can only take it.

He finds your sweet spot, connecting the huge head of his cock with it over and over. He fucks you so hard that your clit is forced down onto a run of stitching in the cushion, and it rubs the tight bundle in perfect sync with the stimulation being exacted deep within you.

It’s intoxicating. A rhythm of ecstasy. A crescendo that is near unendurable. You fight it for as long as you can, wanting the sensations to last, but your body has ideas of its own.

Ezra moans.

‘She’s clenching up, Joel,’ he says with desperation. Babbling. ‘I can feel it. Joel. Can feel. I can feel her. I’m going to feel her- cum on my cock, uhhhnnn.’

It’s so intense you just moan and whine into the bed, twitching and writhing as fireworks erupt inside you.

Joel literally growls. It’s echoed by the man on top of you, who’s draining the sound right into your ear. You twist your head to see Ez. He’s looking up, face to Joel with an ecstatic rictus of an expression locked on his features as you flutter and clench around him.

‘Oh, fuh- fuck,’ Ezra, finally incoherent. ‘Fuc- cum—gonna c—’

‘Rule,’ you gasp. ‘The rule, Ez!’

In a heartbeat he withdraws from you, pushes himself up and you feel the hot ropes of his spend land on your back, your shoulders – maybe a little in your hair.

‘Fuck,’ he repeats, panting. ‘Uhhh.’

From where you’re sprawled, limp and fucked out on the mattress, two strong hands loop around your upper arms and pull.

You give a yelp of surprise as you whole bodily slide out from under Ezra, across the bed, off of it entirely, and you’re manhandled into Joel’s lap. He’s so strong and you’re so boneless, you’ve got legs either side of him and are being guided onto his cock in a matter of moments.

‘My turn,’ he rumbles, so impossibly low and wrecked.

Your spent pussy lets him slide home in one swift thrust. Hands glide across the cum spread on your back, push it back and forth for a moment before he’s holding your hips and lifting and slamming you onto himself. You grip his shoulders for dear life, the place inside you that Ezra had just been abusing roaring back to set a blaze in your entire body.

Hands falling off his shoulders with his force, you fist the front of his flannel instead as he pumps his thick shaft with you, uses you on himself. 

Thinking he’s going to just go and go until he cums, he surprises you. Changing his thrust, he pulls you closer and starts to buck up his own hips into you. One arm holds you to his chest and the other reaches around.

Oh my g—

‘So you really like this, huh?’ A thick finger finds your puffy, messy hole – opened up by Ezra’s attentions – and pushes in. Joel’s eyes roll back at the resistance. ‘God, it’s so… tight,’ he drawls, huffing into your mouth. 

He works the finger in and out, specifically seeming to enjoy the sensation of that initial breach. It’s different, and physically heady. You’re not long for it, and with a groan from Ez, still behind you – a muttered, ‘you see, Joel? Do you see?’ – you’re screaming loud again as you anoint Joel’s cock with your climax. 

And now he’s getting close.

‘Whose cock do you want?’ he demands, not relenting his pace for a single moment.

‘Yours,’ you say.

‘Who else’s?’ 

‘His,’ you whine, tilting a bliss-filled head back over your shoulder.

‘Mmhm, good girl,’ he affirms. ‘Whose pussy is this though? Who is the only one who gets to cum in this pussy.’

The finger slips out as he grips you hard for purchase, driving himself to his release.

‘Who? Tell me.’

‘You!’ you cry. ‘Joel, you. The rule is– hah- uh- Only you can. Only y– Joel.’

With the tiniest bit of muscle control left in your body, you grind your hips deep into him. The sweat and release coating both your skin lets you slide and push. So that when he meets his cliff’s edge and falls over it, the head of his cock is firm against your cervix and his cum soaks your walls. Both strong arms lock around your back and his face is buried in your neck, mouthing and devouring as he groans and groans.

It settles into grunts and gasps as his high rides itself out.

With weak, sloppy movements, you grasp either side of his head and bring it up to yours so you can kiss him, slide your lips and tongue and teeth together for a moment while he comes back to himself. As you part, you’re greeted with the most beatific smile.

Ezra appears by your side, pants zipped up but a fresh erection clearly tightening them again. You take this in then tip your head back to him with a hazy smile.

‘Thanks, Ez,’ you slur. 

‘My unequivocal pleasure, dove,’ he says, lifting the thumb that had not been buried inside you and swiping it over your lower lip. ‘Know that I’d ask to kiss you right now, but well…’ A lopsided grin and a lick at his own lips.

‘Yeah, nah,’ you say, mumbling whatever nonsense slips into your mind. ‘Next time, maybe.’

‘Mm,’ he groans. He looks at Joel as you flop forwards into that broad chest and feel arms tighten round you again. ‘Indeed. If you do feel your compersion arise again and wish to seek out my participation once more, I will respond with an enthusiasm most prompt.’

‘Thanks,’ Joel murmurs. ‘Can ya let yer’self out? Got some lookin’ after t’do.’

His attentiveness has you feeling all warm as you listen to Ezra’s footsteps move out of the room, down the stairs, and the front door open and close.

Joel sifts fingers through your hair. Nuzzles your ear. ‘Did so well fer me, baby,’ he whispers. ‘So well. Looked s’fuckin’ good.’

All you manage is an affirmative ‘mmmmm’.

‘You want a shower?’ he asks. ‘Can ya stand?’

You nod to the first question and shake your head to the second, tucked into his neck. He sighs with content and braces your legs against his sides, stands up with you firmly locked in his embrace. Carries you to the bathroom where he only sets you down, cock slipping out, when you can lean against the cool tiles. Stumbling a little, you use the toilet as he gets the water up to temp and undresses.

In the warm cocoon of steam, he cleans you from head to toe, washing away Ezra’s spit on your chest and cum on your back. The sweat and the tears. The mess on your thighs. Hands soothe across bite marks and finger grazes. Each one he checks, ‘this okay?’, ‘this one?’, ‘okay, baby?’. You nod and hum and get lost in this unique feeling.

After, he guides you back to the bed where he’d watched another man take you to pieces, settles you under the covers.

‘Hungry?’ he asks. ‘Thirsty?’

‘Thirsty,’ you mumble. ‘And tired.’

‘Okay, one sec.’ His warmth and shadow vanish for a little bit, and you’re fighting sleep as he returns with two glasses of water. Makes you drink the first and sets the second by your bedside before climbing in and cradling you against his chest – by which point you are dead to the world.

--

Uh, so yeah. Go about your day…

[changelingsandothernonsense]

Wip Whenevers!

Got tagged by @throughtrialbyfire for wip Wednesday :3

We got some writing and art

Some progress on the Josh piece. Did a bit more detail on his hair and started scaring. Body's a bit sore so i'll pick things back up tomorrow.

And something from a fic i'm working on. Specifically, Josh traversing Ilunibi.

I’m unsure how long I had been walking for, maybe fifteen minutes maybe far longer but I was beginning to grow suspicious at the lack of any real adversaries outside a bit of frigid seawater. I was beginning to feel thirsty as I felt the effects of my spells begin to wane. I recast them as I searched my pack for my waterskin. It was as I was taking that long-awaited drink that I heard something calling out from the darkness. Faint whisperings of a name I do not answer to. It baffles me as to why they insist on using it when every one of those fucking cultists I’ve had the displeasure of running into already knows what my fucking name is! ‘­—He bids you welcome, Lord Nerevar.’ I shuddered as I quickly threw my waterskin back into my pack and reached for my dagger. In the distance, I could just make out the willowy silhouette of a mer holding what appeared to be some sort of mace or club. I could not tell from here if the bastard was infected or not and I was not ready to find out. I recast my spells yet again, making sure I was still undetectable by most means and began my approach, dagger drawn and held ready to strike. I kept close to the cavern wall, the place too dark to really make out the state of the mer until I was almost face to face with him— and I didn’t know what to make of what I saw. The Dunmer was filthy, covered in ash and blood from head to toe. His eyes glazed as he searched the cavern for my presence. His teeth were stained black with what I assumed was old blood and the smell of rot and filth almost engulfed me. The putrid stink certainly wasn’t helped by the rotting hunks of flesh that the bastard hung around his neck. I’d seen flesh used almost in decoration by the Sixth House cultists before though it’s usually hanging in chunks from their shrines. I wondered how far gone one had to be to wear it on their bare skin— Then again if the bastard’s been infected long enough the disease was the least of his worries. Though he lacked evidence of any large, deforming growths on his body. Just an emaciated form with a great, descending belly popping out from rows of defined ribs. And I thought mine looked bad— The Dreamer stared at me…or through me to be more accurate. His eyes darting about madly as he searched for me. I readied my weapon and waited for the bastard to turn around. ‘He will not come to you, Lord Nerevar. It is you that must beg his forgiveness beneath Red Mountain. Join us and bring his glory.’ I shivered at the thought. I still don’t know what these things insist on calling me that. It’s bad enough that the damn Empire’s puppeting me about as the fucking Incarnate and that the Ashlanders seem to be entertaining the idea too… I just wish it wasn’t playing into the Empire’s hands. But I have no say in any of this.

[forcebookish]

thanks for tagging me, @boozles! this is an interesting tag meme 🤔

Rules: choose 5 of your favorite characters from 5 pieces of media as options and let your tumblr pals decide which one suits your vibe.

ok i do have favorite characters who i think i'm a lot like (buffy, nick miller, chandler, etc.), but i went by characters i talk about the most on here. i personally don't think i'm that much like any of these characters, although there's some connective tissue like loneliness and anger lol

(pip did ten, but i wanted to stick to five because honestly ten would be too hard to narrow down and just clog up the results.)

you might not know all the characters so here's some propaganda:

rukia: lonely. caring. takes her work very seriously. tempestuous. willing to die for perfect strangers and loved ones alike. easily frustrated, especially when the people she loves don't believe in themselves. traumatized. adorable. beacon of light to everyone who knows her.

gun: lonely. not afraid to be happy or of what other people think; but afraid of abandonment and failure. harsh. playful. stressed the fuck out. cuddly. grumpy. romantic. scary.

cordelia: bitchy. loving. self-centered. sunshine incarnate. sweet. spoiled. brave. quippy. fun. believes in the greater good and protecting the weak. loyal. honest and blunt. determined.

top: arrogant. doesn't take people's shit and will read you for filth. traumatized. snuggly and nuzzly. helpful. self-centered (but not selfish). fun. neat and precise. caring. artistic. affectionate. thoughtful. friendly. service top lol

bucky: complicated. doesn't hold back. sarcastic. swaggery. traumatized. good at what he does. prepared. focused. confident. sly. a leader. flirtatious. caring.

i like character development and dark backstories! idk!

tagging @komari-maxx @itscassi @charles-edwin @monwillica @djeterg19 and anyone else who wants to do it (tag me, i wanna vote!)

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

CELEBRITY | chapter 01

rúben dias x original female character [+18]

SYNOPSIS: The protagonist knows for a fact she'll be famous someday. The way it happens is not as she planned, though. WARNINGS: dark romance; revenge p*rn; minor injury; mentions of blood; mentions of cheating; minors dni.

|[previous chapter]| — |[masterlist]|

CHAPTER I — THE VIDEO

The worst day of her life starts in a cramped apartment, a tiny box in a decaying building, a place where dreams wither and die.

The peeling wallpaper has witnessed too many damp nights, and the floorboards groans in complaints with every reluctant step. The window panes are coated with city filth, and they can barely let in the slivers of a gray day; the light looks worn out before it even hits the furniture.

And then, there’s the protagonist. Radiant, untouched by the dumpster fire that is this place. She glides through the chaos like a ghost of grace. Her presence is a sunbeam slashing through the fog, a reminder that even in the darkest corners, there can be a glimmer of something extraordinary.

Beyond the protagonist’s bedroom it's chaos incarnate. Dirty dishes pile up in the sink, and the hum of low-budget appliances mixes with the muffled arguments and laughter from her roommates and neighboring apartments. In the bathroom, the mirror is cracked and stained, reflecting fractured images of each occupant's struggle for normalcy.

Our girl sneaks into the kitchen and with ease, she starts brewing coffee, a sort of morning ritual of calm amid the storm.

As the bitter aroma begins to fill the air, she mechanically grabs her phone and dives into the vortex of her social media, seeking a quick escape from the madness around her.

She hears it before she realizes what it is.

A scream, raw and unrestrained. It's her own scream – a guttural reaction to something horrific she's just seen on the screen. The coffee, momentarily forgotten, sends ripples in its mug. She clutches the phone, her eyes wide with shock.

Fury courses through her veins, and she can't recall stepping into a car; all that matters is where she’s headed. 

How dare he?

She doesn't know what’s worse – the damning video or the venomous audio that followed:

“You said you wanted to be famous! Bitch, I can make you famous.”

It's the video. The video is worse.

She searches her memory, but there's no recollection of consenting to being recorded. No agreement, just an invasion of privacy. Yet, it’s there – the video he felt entitled enough to send. 

A voice in her head insists he won't share it, that he's married, and the consequences would be dire for him. But logic loses its battle against the graphic images on the screen – his face absent, only a hand and an even more inappropriate part of his anatomy. 

It shouldn't matter. If he's unhinged enough to do this, she can't risk it. Panic sets in; she needs assurance that he deletes every trace he has of her. She's not Kim Kardashian; her feeble singing career would crumble at the exposure of a video with a married Premier League player. Recovery would be impossible.

When she arrives at his home, she feels like an intruder. It's a familiar place, one she's sneaked into countless times in the nighttime, when he had the house for himself. But being there for the first time in the light of day, she discovers the opulence of the house feels utterly alien.

The grandeur of the entrance foyer greets her like an unwelcome guest. An imposing staircase sweeps upwards, adorned with an ostentatious chandelier. The air carries the unmistakable scent of his expensive cologne and the lingering residue of privilege.

In the living room, she finds him surrounded by friends.

“What the fuck?” He's incredulous at her audacious decision, silently grateful that his wife is away with the kids. “You can’t just show up here. Are you crazy?”

“Oh, now I’m the crazy one? Delete that video. I won't let you ruin my life.”

At the corner of the room, the male lead sits down, observing the brewing storm. He quietly calculates his next move.

The protagonist holds her ground. "Delete the damn video."

And her demand hangs in the air.

“Fuck, no!” REDACTED answers.

The tension escalates and the confrontation reaches its boiling point. The protagonist feels a surge of frustration and helplessness, she clenches her fists, her nails digging into her palms. The pain is immediate, a sharp sting that momentarily dulls her emotional turmoil. Ignoring the throbbing ache in her hands, she turns away from REDACTED. 

She finds a small decorative object on a nearby table – a delicate crystal vase. In an impulsive act of frustration, she grabs the vase without a second thought. The cold surface presses into her hand, and with a swift, unthinking motion, she throws the vase against the wall.

The sound of shattering glass echoes through the room. A shard of glass grazes her hand in the process and a small trickle of blood emerges, running down her fingers.

The room falls into a stunned silence. 

With a timing reserved only for the most special characters in a story, the male lead speaks up.

“Come on, man. Do what she’s asking.” He directs his friend, breaking the tension with a straightforward command. It's the first time the protagonist takes a good look at him.

Rúben Dias. She knows him, of course, she knows everybody in the team, but she has never seen him up close before. He's beautiful, and in this moment, he exudes an imposing aura. Even though he's not speaking directly to her, she still recoils under the weight of his presence.

“Jesus, alright. I’ll delete it. Come on, I was just joking!” REDACTED raises his hand in a mock surrender, laughter dripping from his words. “I’ll delete it.” He repeats.

And he does, though not without silently cursing Rúben for being in the room and witnessing the scene. REDACTED knows if things went south, Rúben would open his big mouth and get him in trouble, leaving him no other choice. He shows his phone to the protagonist, revealing the file with her name on it, protected with a password. The contents are too much for her to bear, and she has to hold back a wave of nausea. Nevertheless, he deletes everything, and she leaves the house immediately afterwards.

The door closes behind her with a muffled thud. To her surprise, Rúben is right there, having followed her.

“Fuck off!” She says, her voice is a mixture of frustration and defiance.

“I’m not ‘fucking off’. Come on, let me take you to a hospital. You’re bleeding!” He insists with genuine concern on his face.

“I’ll just wash it, it’ll be fine.” The protagonist dismisses, attempting to downplay the situation.

“Seriously, my mother would kill me if I just left you here.”

She stops, hesitating for a moment, before finally saying, "Can you just drive me to a hospital and leave me there?" There's a brief pause, and then she adds, "I don’t want to be seen with you, no offense."

To her surprise, he doesn't look offended, and so she continues, "Also, help me text a friend so she can meet me there?”

He laughs, breaking the tension, and says, “That’s a good compromise. Now let’s go!”

|[masterlist]| — |[next chapter]|

[professorspork]

director's commentary sdau emerald scene

You know, I really should have seen this coming but I didn't.

Let's put it under a cut bc moderate spice and considerable length:

This scene went through more iterations and re-writes than the vast majority of its brethren.

I dug around in our chat history to find the exact moment we generated the idea, because this one wouldn't have happened without you. and you know what I learned?

it dates to mid-January 2023, which is literally before I started posting newsbees. this idea is OLD. it is some of the EARLIEST MATERIAL of sdau.

I told you I was reading this for fic research in the middle of an unrelated discussion about Emerald; you then joked that all you could think about was Emerald at the sex club giving vytal fic vibes, just bored out of her skull while people throw themselves at her, and I said I hadn't come up with a role for her yet.

you: emerald would try to go to the sex club after getting out of a toxic relationship the way blake did and then she'd be there for 15 minutes and nope the fuck out and run away me: which, actually-- she could be one of blake's one-off partners where after about 5 minutes blake's like "you are allowed to leave we really don't have to do this" and em's like OHTHANKGOD

I briefly considered a much crueler idea in which Blake witnessed Emerald and Cinder doing a scene together, but we quickly agreed that the original idea was the better one.

I haven't been able to find chat history about it, so I'm moderately certain that I didn't tell you about the fact that I'd decided to read poor Emerald for filth and give her the Mommy kink until I started showing you the scene in its original incarnation, in mid-July of 2023 (which has the benefit of showing just how long this project has taken me, lmao).

me: emerald. sweetheart. when you say mommy kink most people assume that means you wanna be coddled and not that you want to be negged. just. just saying me: emerald do you know what mothers are me: emerald

That first version of the scene differed in several keys ways from the final product, but the most crucial of those was that in the first go-around, Blake actually agreed to give Emerald her number. Em asked for it, and Blake said "Sure, I'd like that," and then the scene ended.

I sat on that for *checks time stamps* approximately 29 hours before I broke the news to you that, upon reflection, I didn't buy it; I just couldn't believe that Blake would be in a healthy enough place mentally to do that. the better and more accurate thing for the story would be for Blake to chicken out and then regret it, because she couldn't be for Em what Sun had been for her.

you: oh no why are you doing that it makes me sad me: because if blake is in a cool enough place to do that with em her actually exchanging numbers with yang doesn't hit as hard you: but now I'm so sad me: i mean it's still ME i'm sure i'll find a way for her to encounter em again before the end

(hmmm. Did I do that in the end? I SUPPOSE WE'LL HAVE TO WAIT AND FIND OUT, DEAR READERS.)

from there, once I'd figured out what the scene was truly for, it was still a lot of effort and tweaking before I got it to read how I wanted to: threading the simultaneous needles of being lowkey arousing but also inarguably unsettling from the jump, so that you're seeing those red flags but maybe, like Blake, thinking they can be overcome until it's very obvious they Can't. I struggled with how to frame it so that it came through that Blake was being... mmm, let's say reckless without crossing the line into Blake being irresponsible, and I wasn't happy with my first stabs at it. in the very first draft, after Em says says she doesn't want to discuss her burn scar and adds "There, that's a boundary, since you wanted one so bad," the prose goes 'There is absolutely no way they are fucking at this point, given Emerald's attitude, and… Blake doesn't know why she stays.'

Which: why would I tell the reader that? It's way too on the nose, and drains the scene of all tension! it also made the spanking moment read as overtly didactic in a way that I didn't like and hadn't intended, so. I tried to drill down into what I thought it was about.

adding the flashback moments to Blake's encounter with Trifa helped considerably; that wasn't in the first draft at all, though the fact that she'd had that encounter was already canon. taking a look at it again, I realized weaving those two together was an opportunity to show why Blake "lets" Emerald make this mistake and indulges her, because it's the same thing Blake went through and she understands it. massaging the tempo and timbre of my vocab took some doing so Blake wasn't in full-on panic attack mode and thus making it all seem WORSE than it already was.

and the final thing I changed was just... twisting that knife more and adding to their rapport. the original draft was brief; it went right from Emerald giving the Cinder backstory to Blake being like "congrats on past tense" and then it was the phone number ask. it was important to me to elaborate on why these two had chemistry, on how they were parallel, and on just how much they liked each other and vibed-- on just how much of an opportunity Blake was missing out on. so Blake laughing more at Em's jokes, and getting the Mercury context, that all came later.

in total, I think this scene had like five or six discrete iterations before reaching its final form.

[finniestoncrane]

(sheepishly slowly slides reqs across table to the other 176)

so uh. saw your reblog of wanting to eat arkham!riddler's practically nonexistent ass. that's my req. my req is him gettimg his ass eaten in the most sub way possible

Rim

Arkham!Riddler x GN!Reader, word count: 300 omg yes thank you for indulging me and letting me get real nasty while i wrote this at work bless you this was a good meal (i also picked the picture where he looked the grimiest because i am filth incarnate) 💚🔧 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: rimming by god, whiny little sub!eddie

“Ah… ah… oook…”

Edward’s body twitched, convulsing almost, each time your tongue pressed into his hole, the tip rigid and stiff as it swirled around the puckered skin. Laying it flat, you dragged it upwards, past his balls and along the underside of his cock. But neither of those areas had ever elicited the kind of response you had when you buried your face between his cheeks.

“You ok, Eddie?”

“Mhm… yeah… don’t st-stop…ok?”

With a cruel laugh, you dove back down to work, your fingers on either side of his hole in a ‘v’, keeping his cheeks apart just enough to be able to press yourself against him, into him. And with your other hand, you gripped his cock close to the base, sliding your loose fist up over the skin, palm rubbing the head, collecting the spills of precum that formed, coating his length with is as you brought your fist back down again.

“Hng… oooooh…”

You’d never heard him make noises like this before. Soft, high-pitched than usual. Whining, whimpering, completely and utterly subservient under you as you held him in place with the lure of pleasure alone. You could see it becoming addictive.

And as he brought his hand down, holding you in place, gripping your hair as he begged for more, begged you to fuck him with your tongue, pleading for you to taste him, you were sure he was enjoying himself more than he expected to.

“F… f… please!... Please... ooooh my god…”

He strangled out the last word, choking on it as his breath caught in his throat, orgasm taking precedent over every other bodily function, thick ropes of his cum landing on his abdomen as he bucked his hips up, rubbing his asshole along your tongue as he rode the final waves of satisfaction.

[pizzaboiiiiii]

A couple of death metal albums I’ve picked up recently while playing shows. Top album is split the fuck open by 10 to the chest. Bottom left is otherworldly incarnate by yotuma. Bottom right is wading through mephitic filth by scab hag (one of my favorite albums I’ve heard in a long ass time).

[nauticallyhypnotical]

Other Side of the Fence

Read more here

There was only one rule to surviving Pelican Town’s accursed mines: kill everything on sight. The monsters down there will not hesitate to sink their teeth and claws into anything that moves. Bravery is not enough; Arrogant adventurers all meet the same fate, their blood-curdling screams echoing throughout the mountains warning those smart enough to keep out to stay far, far away. Missing bodies were never recovered. Half the graves outside the guild were empty, nothing but a tombstone acknowledging the deceased.

Despite the risks, Samantha pledged her sword to the town’s guild. For many years, she had not been afraid of death, accepting that all things must eventually end. Death simply gave life meaning. When she took the oath to protect the valley, it changed her spirit. She once again felt she had purpose, something she hadn't felt in a long time. Fulfilling her obligation to the valley, knowing she was making it safer, filled her with hope.

Killing monster filth was also just really fucking fun.

She’d never felt more alive than when she was down in the mines, slashing through hordes of undead and gelatinous foes. There was something else down here, something that buzzed all around and throughout her. It felt almost electric, and made her feel unstoppable. It felt as if the mines themselves were alive and guiding her deeper down, down, down.

There was no end. Well, there probably was, but Samantha hasn't found it yet. There were many ways to get lost in these tunnels with all their twists and turns and surprise dungeons. It was also different each time she ventured down here. There was a reason why the guild forbade non-members from coming down here.

Samantha was knee-deep in mossy sludge when she heard a familiar flapping of deranged bats in the distance. With her movement limited, she was vulnerable. Her best option was going back the way she came and running away. She was becoming too tired to fight, and needed to return home to rest anyway. She almost reached the exit when she was suddenly swarmed by angry bats looking to claw her eyes out. All she could do was protect her face and run to where she knew her escape was. She was getting scratched and bit anywhere she was exposed, but she finally made it. She dragged herself safely out of the mines before collapsing outside the cave mouth, chest heaving as she tried to regain her composure. She didn’t usually slip up, but she was lucky. Usually, slipping up meant you were killed.

“Holy shit, are you okay?” a man asked her. She opened her eyes, and there were two in front of her. They looked like night and day, the moon and sun incarnate. One was tall, with pale skin accentuated by raven-black hair. The other man was about a head shorter than the first guy, and had light blond hair that was slicked back from his tanned skin. They both had bloodshot eyes and reeked of marijuana.

“I’m fine, I just –” Samantha began to talk, but grimaced in pain. She was bleeding all over, and her wounds were beginning to hurt as the adrenaline wore down. “I just need a minute, I think.”

“Okay. Hey, do you wanna hit?” The blond man asked, holding out a half-smoked blunt. The raven-haired man hit his bicep with the back of his hand.

“Ow! What was that for?” The blond asked.

“Dude, look at her. She’s bleeding everywhere, she needs to see Doctor Harvey, not smoke weed,” he said, sounding like a disappointed parent scolding their child.

“Oh, you're probably right. My bad,” he said, turning towards Samantha. He lightly dabbed the end of the blunt on the bottom of his shoe, and handed it off to his friend. He then pulled out a box of cigarettes and flipped it open, placing the blunt carefully inside.

“I’m Sam, and this is ray of sunshine is my best friend Sebastian. Who’re you?” The blond stuck his hand out for Samantha, and helped her up as she accepted it.

“Samantha,” she said, feeling suddenly embarrassed that she’s being seen like this, in front of two cute guys nonetheless. She was supposed to protect the town, not be saved from it. Sebastian was right, though. She should go see the doctor. The two of them had gotten quite acquainted when she first joined the guild, having had many late-night visits to the clinic to patch up several of her rookies’ mistakes. Let this be another one, she thought to herself. She began to walk in that direction when a hand was placed on her shoulder.

“Another Sam, that’s awesome! In the name of Sam-hood, please let me walk you to the clinic. I’m heading that direction anyway,” he beamed at her. As much as her gut told her to say no, she nodded. If he was going the same direction as her they may as well walk together. The three of them walked until they reached Robin’s house, where Sebastian bid his farewells, and then it was just the two of them, and suddenly Samantha was aware of the chilly night breeze. It was the middle of autumn, and being caked in cave sludge made her so much colder.

They continued on in silence until Sam suddenly spoke up.

“You've lived here a while right? How come nobody ever sees you around?” He asked. Samantha inwardly groaned – she was always pretty introverted, and knew eventually this would become an issue. Truthfully, one of the reasons she loved being an adventurer so much was the isolation it provided. Instead of explaining all this to Sam, she shrugs.

“I am often down in the mines, busy with missions for the guild. I do not have much time to socialize,” she says.

“The what?” Sam asks, puzzled.

“…The guild? The adventurer’s guild, led by Marlon, keeps the town safe? You know what, never mind. Better you don't know, I suppose,” Samantha says as they reach the clinic. She stops, and Sam stops after her.

“Well,” she says.

“Well…” Sam repeats. Samantha turns and looks at him, and notices up close how handsome he is. He’s close enough she can smell the way his cologne mixes with the smell of weed, and her breath catches as she makes out the notes of mint and pine.

“Thank you, Sam, for walking with me,” she says, a blush crossing her cheeks. She looks into his bright blue eyes and he smiles down at her.

“Us Sams need to stick together,” he says, bringing his fist up to his chest.

“All I ask in return, though, is that you'll join me this Friday night at the Saloon. You should meet some people, play some pool. It'll be fun,” he had a pleading, puppy-dog look in his eyes. She thought about it for a moment. She couldn't avoid everybody forever, and so she agreed to meet Sam. She watched him walk off as she waited for Harvey to come unlocked the clinic doors, and noticed he had a bit of bounce in his step. She began to feel somewhat excited as she planned for the days ahead. She had three days until she had to meet Sam at the Saloon. Maybe she would allow herself to finally let loose, for once. Relax a little, know the town a little more. What good was protecting a town she knew nothing about and nobody in?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the click of the doors unlocking.

“Samantha, hurry, come in,” he said, ushering her quickly to the examination room.

[regalityandcoffee]

The only things I've ever been formally diagnosed with mental are adhd and ocd. I've suspected I may be autistic for a while but yea. Anyway having ocd and adhd at the same time fucking sucks because my brain is always fearmongering me into buying shit I don't need at that exact moment

Brain: if you don't buy this dental kit your teeth are gonna rot in your sleep and you'll choke to death on your broken cavity filled teeth

Me: look I'm gonna book a dentist appointment eventually just give me more t-

Brain: I CAN FEELEVERY CREVICE OF YOUR MOUTH YOU ARE ROTTING YOU ARE A MUMMY YOU ARE FILTH INCARNATE YOU ARE ROTTIING

Me: ALRIGHT SHUT UP SHUT-

[truckreincarnation]

Memory and Reminder || Alvarie || Trial Response

Alvarie had mostly been zoning out in this trial. Just like she did last time. As long as nothing funny happened she didn't need to do anything. Nor did she particularly want to really. At least it did seem like this trail would have a less bloody end due to there being no real culprit. She loved fighting but she wasn’t bloodthirsty. Of course that wasn’t the end of it. Why would it be? 

The punishment for not voting was very real. Her nose wrinkled as her heightened senses took in the stench of the burning and her ears rang at the sound of the screaming. Her teeth went sharp as she instinctively prepared for battle with fire causing this damage. Memories of things she had fought and seen surfacing in her mind among the current torment. The only wash to cleanse her of this being the wretched filth of a voice entering her ears.

The King graced them with his voice. Of course he would be foolish enough to make this command. He did not understand the scenario he was in. He thought himself untouchable and thus was more than willing to poke the angry incarnates he was having trained to fight a being more powerful than himself. 

Whatever the tree and the pixie had planned likely wouldn’t be good. She had no faith in their decisions. One was bound by enslaving magics and the other was just the bad kind of bitch. Not the good kind at all. Still she also had a job here. Even if the king was making it harder. With a sigh from hearing the responses to the king, Alvarie pulled out her sword to rest on her shoulder, as a warning. 

“Don’t forget. I am here to make sure that the incarnates here do not become a danger to the outside world. So I would keep the threats to a minimum. Especially the ones that explicitly state a desire to escape your enslavement and commit regicide. You do not have rights in this nation. Whether you like it or not.” 

She fucking hated this job but somebody had to be the one to do it. It was better that it was her with experience in killing strong enemies and no dubious political motivations. 

[cloudbattrolls]

Technically TME only has 11 full drabbles (the art for the end of Cylindric Sonata and the log with Chimer and Corelo also being linked there) but it feels longer to me.

Possibly because I had the rough concepts for this plot seven years ago when I first made Jastes, but I could never make it work until I made Jamie in 2022 and he wound up being the perfect catalyst to start it off in the wake of Jikiro's deal to save him.

Like most of my plots, it was originally different: Process wasn't the antagonist at all, it was Atarem, though she still played a minor part as the helm Chimer spoke to in A Code to Salvation and when Process brought her up in The Hell We Put Men Through.

Chimer was always involved, seeing as she's the oldest character in this plot in terms of creation date, but her role changed a lot when I decided to hand her Jamie's company.

Civitrecce is a setting I've always wanted to do more with. It was actually the second incarnation of where I set this plot and I made it because a former friend of mine wouldn't give me enough details about her city I was originally going to set it in, lmfao. So I was like fuck it, I'll make my own then, and I'm glad I did.

I was also heavily inspired by the game Transistor, and anyone who's played it can read me for filth, especially in terms of what I named a few things and some of Process's dialogue and internal narration.