#Dd Nibbles

[3amclothesmonster]

Dd sona doodles I did (:

[cowcowwow]

Hm, hm! *takes out a piece of paper* what… is your opinion on garlic bread, if I may ask?

BREAD /POS

[wraithsoutlaws]

that’s the cutest drawing ever, thank you, little me is very content with it ❤️ MUAH, sending u a virtual brownie

thank u 🥺🖤

[thegnomelord]

Missing You

CW: NSFW, sub bottom Soap, dom top Reader, phone sex, masturbation, dirty talk, edging, sex toy, dom/sub. Quick and rough but that's how the horny strikes.

Like always, asks/requests are open :Dd

You've been gone on a mission for nearly a month now, and Soap doesn't know what to do with himself. Even when you text him sporadically to tell him you're alive, sometimes he feels like a housewife, stuck awake late at night wondering if you'll return to him as a pair of dog tags.

And even later at night he can't help thinking of what you'll do to him when you come back, ravage him until he's drooling and his brain is leaking from his ears.

As days turn to weeks he finds himself trying and trying to jerk off to no avail. No matter how much he tries he can't seem to get himself off while you're away; he could fuck his cock into his fist until his skin's rubbed raw and his balls are so full they feel like they'll explode but nothing ever comes out. His body is just so used to having your body over his and your scent in his nose and just your presence near that it can't cum without it.

Pure need breeds desperation and has him finding himself at your door in the middle of the night. It's locked, but he has the key. He's quick to shimmy his way inside, a happy little sigh escaping him when he huddles underneath the covers and your scent invades his nose. A stuttered breath leaves him as he gropes his stiff cock underneath his shorts, burying his nose into your pillow and breathing in deep until his lungs are full of you and his brain is buzzing nicely.

He tries to get himself off like that, doesn't take him much to stroke himself to full mast but even surrounded by your scent he can't cum. It's like there's a blockage at the base of his cock that's not letting anything put pre-cum out while he humps his fist until tears prickle his eyes.

A thought pops into his mind and without even thinking he's fishing his phone from his pocket and dialing your number without thinking of what time of the day is on your end. Holding the phone in one hand and cock in the other he nibbles on his lip as he waits for you to pick up. Hopes you will pick up.

"Johnny?" Your voice is slurred with sleep, giving it a deep base rumble that sends a nice shiver down spine.

"Bonnie..." He breathes out and bites his lip to hold back a groan, cock twitching in reaction from just your voice. "Fuck, ah missed yea."

You hum, still half asleep. "Missed you too Johnny. How have you been?"

"Good." He breathes out, worrying his lip between his teeth as he strokes himself. "Just been mighty bored since you left lil' ol' me alone."

You can hair faint shuffling on the other end, but not his usual chatter. Normally when you call each other Soap will prattle on and on for as he can, but this time he is strangely silent save for his shuddered breath. "Soap... where are you?"

He freezes and sucks in a breath, "In yeh room."

"Johnny." The way you say his name sends a shiver down his spine and he begins stroking himself again, pinching and squeezing the head of his poor cock in the same way you do. "Did you miss me this much?"

"No shite." A small sound escapes him, a mixture of a curse and something more animalistic. "Ah try 'an wank off but every time I try it's-" A familiar hellish feeling in his balls, like something close to pain but not quite, has him cutting his sentence short.

"Poor boy," You coo, "Can't cum without me there, can you? Got you so trained to cum with my cock up your ass you can't do it without something nice and big stretching you out, hmm?"

Your words have embarrassment flooding his system and a small stream of pre leaking from his red angry tip, "'S your fault, fockin' wanker." He curses, burying his head into your pillow while quickly stroking his cock. He'd be embarrassed about what your voice does to him if he wasn't so damn horny. "Fix yer mess."

"Want to cum so badly don't you?" You stall just for a second, your mind birthing a devious idea. "Alright sweetheart, check under the bed for me."

Your request confuses him. "What for?" Still, he's a good boy, he does as he's told no matter how much it hurts to let go of his dick. Even just the sheets rubbing against his poor dick has him whimpering from overstimulation, but he manages to reach beneath your bed and finds a small discrete box.

"Just a gift for you." Your smirk carries over the phone and you can just imagine his expression when when he opens the box.

Inside the box is a dildo. It's firm in his hand as he picks it up, heat pools in his stomach as he recognizes the tip he'd spend hours suckling on, as he traces each realistic vein with his fingers the same way he'd do with his tongue, as he rubs the silicone balls like he'd worship the actual ones; It's molded from your actual dick.

"Oh you sick fuck." He breathes out, but there's not a single hint of disgust in his breathless voice. "Did yea make it so's yea could fock yourself?"

"Funny." Your two share a small chuckle, "If you're not careful I'll make one of yours and lock the real thing away. Not like you use it much."

He never knows if you're serious or kidding but the subtle threat in your tone has his dick throbbing all the same. He manages an indignant "Oi!" before his voice pitters out when he finds your second surprise.

"Thought you'd want something to remember me by." You can't hide your amusement when he finds your underwear. After you'd caught him masturbating with his face shoved in a pair of your underwear he'd nicked, you'd gone out of your way to wear one pair each time you went to the gym and didn't wash it.

"Oh bile yer heid." He huffs but he's already rolling on his side with your underwear pressed close to his nose. He breathes in deep until he can taste the heavy tang of your musk on his tongue, arousal burning hot in his veins.

"I'll take it you like it." You chuckle, "Go on sweetheart, you know what to do."

"Aye." He shuffles until shimmy his shorts off, having not even bothered with wearing boxers. He shifts so his knees are close to his chest, the phone pressed between his ear and the pillow so he can use both hands. "C'mon, keep yappin'. Need tah hear yea." He feels so high-strung begging like this, but it just makes heat burn hotter in his cock when he brings the silicone dildo to his puckered hole that's already wet from when he'd tried to finger himself to an orgasm.

"Oh, sweetheart," With your voice ringing in his ear and your scent in his nose and the weight of your sheets over his half naked body he almost feels like you're right there. If he closes his eyes he imagine it's your cock poke against his hole and your body swallowing his. "Let me guess, you're already wet huh?"

"Know me so well." He breathes out and slowly pushes the dildo against his hole until the head finally slips past the ring of muscle. He's rougher than you'd be but his body is so desperate to feel you that the cock slips in easily, his walls clenching greedily around every familiar vein.

You croon praises in his ear as he sets a deep and fast pace, biting your underwear between his teeth to muffle his pathetic mewls while pounding his hole. But it's not enough, even with every single one of his senses full of you it's not enough. His arm's starting to cramp the longer he fucks himself, twisting and angling the dildo in a desperate attempt to catch his prostate, his hips twitching back to when he bottoms out so he can feel the fake balls slap against his own.

"Shit- It's not enough, fock, please." He shifts his head just enough to beg, huffing in your scent.

"What's wrong Soap, can't fuck yourself like I can?" He groans at your words, biting the wet fabric of your underwear again when he finally manages to graze his prostate. His cock's leaking like a faucet, easing the glide of his fingers when he grabs it to stroke himself until he's whining from the stimulation coming from both ends.

His balls ache and fire burns in his stomach every time he bottoms out, his thighs shaking with the need to cum. "Nae, you fock me so good-" He pants, pleas both in English and Gaelic falling from his lips until you can barely understand anything aside from pure need.

"Go on Johnny, you can cum."

Your permission is all it takes for him to tip over the edge, hole spasming around the dildo and cum spurting like a firehose from his cock and his sight going white. Weeks upon weeks of unresolved tension all escaping him as waves of euphoria pulse through him, leaving him shaking from his orgasm.

"There you go, good boy." Your voice brings him back from the peaks of heaven, his breathing heavy and uncoordinated. "How do you feel?"

"Fockin' perfect." He slurs and has just enough strength to slip the fake cock from his hole and toss it somewhere on the floor. "Felt like ah was ready ta blow." A loud yawn leaves him and his eyes feel heavy when he hears your voice again.

"Get some sleep Johnny, I'll be back by the time you wake up."

"I'll hold yea to it." A dumb little smile tugs on his lips and he nuzzles his head into your pillow, drifting off to sleep.

[petermorwood]

@dduane bought these the other day, from one of the local supermarkets which stock Central / Eastern European things. Their label indicated their origin as Lithuania, but was entirely in English and described them, rather unhelpfully, as "mini meat pies".

They were more or less ready to eat, since "cooking" instructions called for no more than about 3-4 minutes in a hot oven, and very good they were, definitely finger-food to be consumed in about two bites.

They had a smoked meat filling, sufficiently unusual for "meat pies" that it started DD trying to find out what they REALLY were. Various helpful folk on Bluesky suggested various things (links are to recipe pages):

"kibinai", which are more similar in appearance to Cornish pasties than to these shiny little nibbles, and made with (unsmoked) mutton and onion.

"speķa pīrādziņi" or "speķrauši", smoked bacon dumplings from Latvia, so there's the flavour profile, but yet again a slightly different appearance.

"kolach" or "koláč" - I've given no recipe link because these are either sweet in their original version, or similar to a sausage roll in their American version, and in any case are Czech which takes them a lot further from Lithuania than Latvia is.

We've concluded that the ones we bought and devoured were probably lašinėčiai / ausytes or "bacon buns" - the taste would be right, the visual similarity is there, and in this photo needs only an egg wash to get shiny.

Why such determination to find out what they were?

(1) Curiosity.

(2) Intention to make them at home.

(2a) Intention to include a LOT more filling than the commercial ones, which were very good but gone too soon...

:->

[venerawrites]

Hello!! :D could you write about Genma with an s/o who's not used to receiving affection? Thank you~~ :DD

author's note: thank you so much for your patience and this request! It's no lie I am a big Genma lover, and while it took me a while to get to this request, it was so fun to write it! <3 Hope you enjoy! x

Genma has always been an affectionate man and it was never something he felt shy about. He loves to keep his partner close to him and he would use any excuse to have his hand on them - either around their shoulder, waist or by simply holding their hand.

Even before getting together with his s/o, he always sought some type of contact. When they were out with friends/colleagues, he always sat next to them, resting his hand on the back of their chair; during missions, he would always check on them and walk right beside them; when they finished their shift at the Hokage's office, he would always walk them back home, before giving them a quick hug.

As someone not used to receiving affection, his s/o was a bit distant, always sitting awkwardly with their hands either hanging on the side or stuffed in their pants' pockets.

Naturally, Genma assumed that they do not really like him, but they probably feel shy to tell him. And while physical touch was a big part of his flirting game, he was a gentleman and he knew when to back off. So after a few weeks of him trying to show his interest in his s/o, he got the hint and actually distanced himself from them.

A few days passed and while they were initially a bit taken aback by his behaviour, his s/o soon started to miss it. So they would try to seek his attention by taking their lunch break at the same time as him, chatting him up on random topics and even inviting him to grab a dinner together after work.

This man is very honest and blunt, especially when it comes to his feelings. So while he doesn't want to hurt his s/o in any way, he would soon ask them to talk in private, so he can be open with them. "Is that dinner a date or just a friendly hangout? Because the truth is I really, really like you and I would love for it to be a date, but I don't want to misread what your intentions are."

He already knows the answer, but he secretly enjoys the way his s/o blushes and tries to explain that they are indeed interested in him in a romantic way. He would watch them "suffer", while he would have the widest grin on his lips.

When it comes to his behaviour once they are in a relationship, Genma is SUPER patient and gentle when it comes to the comfort of his s/o.

This man may be a tease, but he would never do anything to make his partner uncomfortable. So in the beginning, despite his affectionate nature, he would take it slow, testing the waters by asking his s/o what they are comfortable with and experimenting with small touches/gestures of affection first.

It would take probably around 2-3 months till they finally get to hold hands and twice as much for cuddling to become a normal part of their routine.

Genma loves kissing! If it was up to him he would steal a kiss at least once every hour, but he would fight his urges and again let his s/o control the pace and the amount of kisses allowed. Still, sometimes his self-control slips and he presses his mouth against theirs after he comes back from a long mission or when they were away for a certain period of time, nibbling and sucking on their lips, till they are all red and swollen.

With time his s/o would relax more into the relationship, but I would imagine they would be the type to hint at him when they want some affection and loving, rather than saying it out loud.

This man may not have the IQ of a Nara, but when it comes to women, and especially his partner, he knows how to read them like a book! He doesn't even need hints in order to understand what his s/o wants, but he would still take PLEASURE in playing ignorant to the point they just initiates the physical contact they are seeking.

The more the relationship progresses, the more he lets out his teasing nature show! Sometimes it gets to the point when his s/o wants nothing more than to throw the closest object at his head, but for him, it's really just fun and games.

When it comes to showing affection in the form of gestures, Genma loves giving gifts to his s/o and spoiling them, but he always feels too shy to give them in person. (People think it's because it contradicts with his whole 'bad boy' image, but the truth is he always feels anxious if his partner would like what he got them, so he prefers not to see their face when they open it.)

The BIGGEST compliment giver!

Surely, his constant compliments would make his s/o blush and stutter at first, but they can be sure that this only encourages him more. He loves expressing his feelings and thoughts to his s/o and he loves it even more when it leaves their face as red as a tomato.

(also, don't forget the dirty comments and jokes, omg! He lives for that and there is nothing his s/o can do to change it!)

Overall, while their relationship will progress slowly in the beginning when it comes to intimacy and affection, Genma's love for it will eventually rub on his s/o.

cc artwork: Robin Tran

[loving-dad]

About me and my likes, I love ebony woman, rimming,oral,creampies,I’m very open minded and love to chat, and yes I do love white woman too 😏, don’t be afraid to message me. I only nibble 😈 and as usual mdni and 18+. My kinks are rimming,breeding,hucow, watching girls pee,creampie,Dd/lg.And guys do not follow or chat I’m not bi. Now I need to put in here I don’t buy content and don’t send money I fucking work hard to make!!!!!!!

[euphoricfilter]

hi love 💓 for the drabble game~ maybe to be festive hehe* "will you be my valentine?" or if not feeling that idea then maybe "oops, too late" with either namjoon or jungkook? au themes: dd/lg, vampire. ty in advance if possible to do ☺️ !

happy valentine’s day:

pairing: vampire! jungkook x vampire! reader

genre: fluff || non-idol au || established relationship || vampire au

summary: everyday is valentines day with jungkook

word count: 1.5k

tags/ warnings: fluff, soft vampy boyfriend! kook, mentions of blood/ consuming blood, injury that have been inflicted by jungkook on himself, slight dd/lg themes— he’s kinda just casually dominant and she’s very softy sub, manhandling, intended lowercase

notes: anything is possible my love!! so many options for me to choose from too, so i hope this is okay!! if you want me to write another with namjoon + the second sentence then let me know!! ~ prompts from this drabble game

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“will you be my valentine?”

jungkook feels you stop gnawing at his neck, lips detaching from his skin with a wet pop, eyebrows creasing.

he can’t tell if it’s from confusion, or him disturbing you when you’d finally settled down for the night; the prettiest little pyjama set clinging to your body, and the fluffiest little fox clung between your arms. buzzing world outside your four walls muted by the low hum of the television, both your chests deflating in unison with each breath you took. 

the both of you so in-tune with one another that Jungkook often wonders if your hearts beat languid with one another, if his blood runs through your veins like he can feels yours flow through his. connection deeper than that of flimsy words that taste sweet on his tongue though never sweet enough; not as sweet as your blood when he drinks from dainty wrists and delicate arteries.

your lips were a pretty shade of pink that he expects matches the color of his neck, tender skin tickled against the cool air when you pull your face away far enough he can no longer feel your warm breath fanning over his skin.

with a recent visit to the doctors, your sharp canines had been filed down— a mean way to stop you from puncturing any more holes into your boyfriend’s skin.

he wasn’t fussed, never minded when you got a little carried away, cute little fangs always a little sore that you couldn’t help but bite down on his neck, teething on a shoulder, even an arm would do. you never had been too picky.

really anything to alleviate the throbbing ache in your gums; and precious things like you always get a little carried away, especially when your precious little fangs sink a little further than you’d intended. sweet blood coating your tongue until you’re lapping it up off jungkook’s skin until you’re sated a sleepy. always an accident though you never minded the outcome.

however, your doctor hadn’t been all too happy with this revelation, and you’d curled into Jungkook’s side when the both of you had been berated, with your legs kicking out anxiously from atop of the medical table. because as much as you wanted to drink your boyfriend’s blood until you dozed off in his lap with his hands tangled in your hair— cow’s blood was a lot more nutritional.

since then, the two of you had been figuring out ways to work around this little dilema. you still had sore gums, only this time the worst you could do was give Jungkook a hickey and then cry pitiful crocodile tears until he slashed his palm open and let you feed off his blood.

Jungkook was a weak man and he couldn’t bare to see you crying. not when you tugged at his sleeve, begging him to pull his sweater off so you could get a small taste, only for your blunt canines to nibble over his skin; unable to do anything other than chew until his skin was painted red and purple and you were left hungry and fussy. hard to settle down of a night time and grouchy in the morning when you had to wake up for an early lecture.

“valentine?” you ask, finger running over your bottom lip in thought.

“yes, my valentine specifically” he confirms, “what do you think, baby?”

you nod, eyes meeting his own and you can’t help the smile that curls onto your lips.

“why’d you look so unsure?” he whines, hands hooking under your arms, pulling you over his lap until your thighs are straddling his own— weight settled over his lap with grounding hands running up your sides until you shiver in sweet pleasure.

“i was just thinking” you start, fingers petting over the soft fur of your fox— a one year anniversary gift Jungkook had bought off a whim years ago, “you treat everyday like valentine’s day”

“that’s only because i love you” he coos, “and my pretty little baby deserves the best”

“i love you too” your nose scrunches up, a giggle bubbling up your throat when he presses a wet kiss to your cheek.

“yes to being my valentine then?”

“mmhmm” you nod, smile stretching out into a yawn.

“my sleepy baby” he croons, fingers brushing your hair from your face, “how about we get you to bed and kookie will plan you the best valentine’s day, yeah?”

he smiles against your forehead when you wrap your arms around his neck, “good girl”

Jungkook had always been meticulous with his planning, especially when it came to you. and when you’d told him he treated every day like valentine’s day, he took it upon himself to outdo what he does for you all the time.

you hadn’t seemed all that skeptical when he’d asked you to pick up next month’s worth of blood-bags alone— simply sending him a sticker in reply to his request without any further questions after your last lecture of the day.

he thinks you must have fully forgotten it was even valentine’s day to begin with when you open the door, eyes wide where he can’t tell if you’re simply overwhelmed or there’s little stars of interest dancing behind your irises.

“kook?” you ask, fumbling with the paper bag as you drop it on the kitchen table, any prior confusion morphing into pure wonder when you catch sight of the blankets laid out in the living room.

“hey baby” you jump, hand flying to your heart when your boyfriend almost skips out of the bedroom, arms piled with all your favorite plushies.

“is that from the bedroom?” you point to the mattress, eyes flitting between all the velvety blankets that shield the couch.

“yep” he smiles, dropping what you assume to be his second load of plushies onto the bedding, if the pile that already lined the back of the couch were any indication, “happy valentine’s day”

he presses a kiss to your forehead, arm weaving it’s way round your waist until your head knocks against his chest. heartbeat slowly thumping against your ear.

“you did all of this for me?” you tilt your head to look up at him.

“of course, i tried to bake cookies but they lost their shape, i thought you’d still like them with some milk”

“yes please” you nod, kicking your shoes off, Jungkook bending to pick them up— placing them beside his own by the front door before he’s slinking into the kitchen.

he places the plate in-front of you, keeping your cup of milk on the coffee table before he’s sitting down behind you, legs spread wide enough he has no problem tugging you between them.

“i tried salvaging them with icing, they don’t really look like hearts anymore” he cringes, hand running over the length of your thigh, fingers teasing the skin under your skirt.

“they’re pretty, thank you kookie” you tilt your head backwards, head knocking against his throat, and you can feel the vibration of his laugh when you place a gentle kiss to the stubble on the underside of his chin.

“i’m glad you like them” one of his hands hold your jaw, thumb brushing over delicate skin as you chew, humming as your feet wiggle; always happy when it comes to sweets.

“drink up, baby. hopefully this helps your pretty little fangs grow back stronger than before” he presses the cup to your lips, hold still firm on your head as he helps you tip it backwards; thumb brushing the little bit of milk that dribbles down your chin.

“they don’t hurt as much these days” you tell him, barely able to finish your sentence before you’re chewing on another cookie.

“do you think that teether helped?” he hums when you sink further into his chest.

you think about it for a moment, “maybe the ice one”

“i’ll buy you another one, they only had red last time— how about pink?”

“i like that”

“wanna hear my plan for the rest of the day?”

you blink, craning your neck to get a better look at his eyes, “plan?”

“this isn’t all we’re doing, i’ve planned the best valentines for my best girl”

“you’ve already done a lot for me though”

he presses a finger to your lips, “none of that. we’ll get you dressed all nice and pretty, i’ll even do your hair if you want, and then i called that little place in the park to make sure they’re open and you can pick whichever cake you want. and then we can open your gifts—“

“gifts?” you push yourself up, “what kind?”

“that’s a surprise, baby” he coos, firm kiss pressed to the corner of your lip, “and then i may or may not have bought you a new friend for bed and he’s all tucked in with your little fox”

“really?” you bounce a little, fingers grasping onto his arms, “thank you, thank you”

“come on” he pats your thigh, “kookie will dress you up in that cute pink dress you have and then we can go get cake and if you’re good then i’ll let you feed off me before bed”

💕 thank you for reading!! feedback is always encouraged, and happy valentines day!

permanent taglist: @m1sss1mp @supernoonanyc

[puffein]

DEFLECTED | late spring [vii.]

summary: wanda's quiet life was upended by your abrupt disappearance. pairings: wanda maximoff x fem!reader, wanda maximoff x vision warnings: one swear word word count: 1192 a/n: wanda's pov! : DD i was so excited when i wrote her pov lool

series masterlist playlist!

Westview, New Jersey

Early-February 2024

Something's wrong.

Something is bothering Wanda's mind, her thoughts are whirring like lightning bolts ready to electrocute her at any minute. With every second she spends re-reading the same sentences written in her favorite book is another thought flashing right at her mind. 

She lets out a breath, closing the book she dearly treasures, and like how her brain got accustomed to how she's doing this movement every second, her head turns down to where her phone is quietly seated beside her.

Wanda's eyes burn right through her phone, for the first time in her life, she wants her phone bombarded by a set of texts or if she's lucky enough to receive a single phone call from a certain someone. It has been weeks, nearing a month since she took the courage of texting you, hopeful that her single text triggered another hangout with her best friend but to her dismay, the text was left unread. She thought of different things and distracted herself with new hobbies but her mind always drifted off to you. 

"It's February now.. The text I sent was in December.." she mumbles to herself, the soft cushions of her couch do not help her feel relaxed at all, nibbling the tips of her thumb's nail, she thought, fuck it.

Fast, swift movements, she quickly took her phone without a second thought, fingers hovering above your name. She stops, her mind blank as she stares at the contact photo she set out for her best friend.

A stolen photo she took, months before you and her became truly friends. You had teased her constantly about the story of the stolen photo, teasing her as a stalker and she would always reply with a tinge of red spreading right at her cheeks. 

The corners of her mouth turned up without her control, reminiscing the college days she had with her best friend was the only thing inspiring her to continue whatever she had in mind. She wants you to be with her every step of her life, you're her best friend, the only person that truly matters to her and if it means making her look like an obsessive person, so be it. 

So, she did. Her thumbs pressing firmly on the call button, she breathes out as she places her phone right at her ears. A single ring happens and then it goes straight to something familiar. 

"The person you are calling is busy at the moment." the automated voice declares, she freezes. Her eyes darted across the room, her face falling, the beating of her heart increasing as an uneasy dread settled right at her being. 

Wanda grips her phone, settling it right in front of her face. The phone trembles in her clutch, she opens the messaging app, staring at the last message she sent in the month of December. It says delivered. 

She can't possibly be blocked if she got to send that message, right? 

But today is February. A huge time gap between those two months, and she never sent another message, her courage was limited to only sending you that one message where she stated she was excited to see you again. 

I didn't say anything weird, right? She thought. 

Eyes boring right at the delivered message but never been read. Not wanting to acknowledge the possibility of her best friend blocking her, she types out another message to test out her theory. 

The text bubble turns green. Like the leaves of the trees dancing right outside of her windows, the freshly mowed grass in her yard, the same color but in a different shade like her eyes. A different variation of green but it is still green. A sender's message should never be green. It just meant one thing, she had been blocked. 

The very essence of Wanda's life has cut off any contact with her, all of your accounts are nowhere to be found, and even your precious account on that one app is now gone. She didn't know what happened, her mind was too loud but silent at the same time. The air seems to be useless for her at this moment as her chest constricts with its scream for air. Her sight became blurry, she was suffocating in worry and fright. Something must be wrong with her phone. There's no way she got blocked, right? By her very own best friend, the only person she had, her person. 

"Hey, is something wrong?" a voice snaps her out accompanied by the sound of a door closing, she turns her head to gaze at her husband. A tall lean man standing right in front of their front door, suitcase in hand, necktie loosely hung, and face morphing into confusion. 

Wanda turns her head away, wiping something under her eyes as fast as she could and standing up to greet her husband. With a shaky voice, she musters up a smile, "Nothing is wrong, here let me help you with your coat." 

"How is your day?" she asks, folding his coat neatly in her arms, her gaze flickers right at his eyes for a second then moves on to the phone settled on the couch. 

"The same old routine, my brother wanted me to do something different like investing…" His voice fades out into the background white noise of their suburban two-story house, she feels her breathing gradually increase as time passes by, the gravity beneath her feet seems to be losing its grip and purpose as her knees wobble. 

"How do you know if someone has blocked your number?" she suddenly questions her husband. Her alert voice cut off whatever dialogue her husband was saying. The man in front of her stilled at her question, eyebrows frowning at the sudden uncomfortable tension his wife was emitting. 

"If it rings once then an automated voice answers." he quipped, annoyance bubbling at how his wife cut him off. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing. I-I just remembered this book club thing.." her voice drifts off as she walks away from him, the door closing behind her as she rummages through her closet to find decent clothes for outside. Briskly walking towards their front door, Wanda was stopped by the tight grip on her arms. 

"Where is this��thing?" 

"Just in the neighborhood, you can heat the dinner through a microwave or something. I'll try to be back before dinner, just in case I can't. I, um, emergency meeting. For this club, yes. I'll see you later, honey." Wanda didn't waste time hearing the reply from her husband. She knew the words she spitted out were rushed and definitely weird but she had somewhere to go, somewhere where she knows her questions can be answered. 

Without any lingering doubting thoughts, she pushed away any possible aftermath of her actions as her feet grounds at the gas pedal of her car leading her into the route she never thought she would be taking. But desperation makes a person forget all their prejudices on some things even if the very same thing has caused her the insecurities locked hidden at her soul.

general masterlist ◄ ►

—୧ taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta @sokovianbaby @vivs46 @kyaraderuwez

[k-marzolf]

—blackberry;

content warnings; slightly old school reader who doesn’t use social media, and therefore isn’t hip or understanding slang. Bffs, card sharp reader, piercing, references to DD/LG (but not actually practiced by anyone, just a question in passing), fluff, alcohol consumption, jealousy, booty call text but reader doesn’t realize it.

pairings; Frank Castle/Karen Page, Billy Russo/ Fem Reader.

word count; 658.

tagging; @terry2227 @kayhi808 @e-dubbc11 @bookloverfilmoholic @cant-help-simping @milea @thejanecampaign @aoi-targaryen @tortilla-chips-and-allioli @oops89 @firequeensposts @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @firexfate @rosaleenablack @idaofinfinity @danzer8705 @snowkestrel @vaguekayla @zz-kennedy @fictional-hooman

“What’s your body count?” giggled Karen looking at you while she slurped her wine, as you looked at your cards, your glasses slipping down your nose, your braids falling over your shoulders in the glow of the dining room.

You pulled your piercing between your teeth, rolling it, “I play a lotta Call of Duty so about a hundred or more.” You laid your cards down, seriously.

The room went silent as your leg jostled Billy’s, and his hand came down, calming it and looking amused.

You looked up, “What? Well, if you want an exact number, maybe three hundred.”

Frank had a funny smile on his face, as they all looked down at your cards you’d laid out as you pulled out your blackberry texting on it.

Billy’s eyes slid over, heart clenching. Who the fuck were you texting? A feeling heavy like lead or a stone sat in his gut as he focused on your hand.

“Jesus,” Billy laughed, “She shot the goddamn moon.” He watched you play with your lip piercing, and his long fingers reached over, pulling your piercing, your lip soft and warm. “It’s gonna fall off if you keep chewin’, Call of Duty girl.” He husked.

You smiled. “I’ll just sew it back on, like Sally the Ragdoll.” You said wiggling your leg again, bumping his knee playfully, a smile tugged at your lips, eyelashes fanning across your cheekbones.

It had Billy’s heart fluttering, at your overbite, patches of psoriasis on your arms that you kept scratching, thinning hair to the point your braids were very small. An uneven smile, and frumpy clothes that hide your body.

Things he used to see as flaws, he now saw as beautiful reminders of you.

Frank scoffed, “Alright you two, if you’re done flirtin’, I’m ready for some cheesecake.” He said, setting his cards down and standing up as you wrote the scores down. You were winning.

Karen smirked, “You and Billy and your sweet tooth.” She said, smacking his ass, making him scoff. “Want some Billy?” She asked.

“Nah, maybe later.” He was watching you intently, as he sipped his beer.

Frank laughed, “Bill’s got somethin’ sweet already.”

You asked, obliviously; “What does DD/LG mean?” You looked confused, looking up from a text on your phone. Karen almost cut her finger off getting a slice of cheesecake.

Billy pulled on your ear like you were being reprimanded. “Who’s texting you that, huh?” He said, voice rough and warm. It made you feel like a fly stuck in the honey, warmth pooling in your gut that had you breathless.

“A guy from the library. He wanted to meet at a dungeon. Odd, mister medieval.” You said wide eyed, leaning closer to Billy instinctively, the smell of musk soothing you. He smelled better than David. Billy smelled like home.

Billy drank his beer silently as he dropped your ear, souring in his stomach as he looked away from you.

You typed away before setting your pink blackberry down. A phone he teased you for using. It was like a stone tablet. “You’re stuck in ancient times. Might as well write in hieroglyphics.” His lips had brushed your hairline, and you forgot about David.

“What did you tell him?” Karen asked as her and Frank dug into cheesecake, and you nibbled on yours.

“That I only want someone that I can beat at Mario Kart. Like Billy.” You said casually, digging into your cheesecake.

Billy huffed, swiping a piece off your plate. “I’m up for a rematch anytime, Princess Peach.” He smirked, putting his fingers in his mouth, butterflies swarming in his stomach.

You pushed your glasses up, smiling.

Frank and Karen shared a look as you bonked him on the head with the notebook used to keep score, and he retaliated by pulling your braid.

“You’re incorrigible, Brooklyn.” You said, shoving more cheesecake in your mouth.

He stole another piece, dodging the notebook, and laughing.

[doubleddenden]

Had a thought about Pokemon for the first time in a while. DD's theory corner time:

Legends Arceus- Arceus is in the title, basically the kick to get the plot ball rolling, our ultimate goal

Legends Z-A, if we were to try basing it on the one title before it, probably references Zygarde. Makes sense if we compare the Z to XY- except the A.

Theory: Legends "2" has two title legendaries associated with it. The A is a new Norse inspired Pokemon that represents some new aspect of dimensions (like the X, Y, and Z planes of a graph that formulate latitude, longitude, and the spaces between).

I know I'm not the first to speculate this, but I think I do want to speculate exactly what the A could be. A certainly doesn't fit in with the XYZ planes (or at the least, nothing is really turning up on Google). HOWEVER, the Norse angle does have a hit we could try to wrestle with.

Xerneas, Yveltal, and Zygarde all represent various aspects of the specific Norse iteration of the World Tree mythos (the reason it's so popular world wide is because- much like the world turtle- mythos for world trees exist all around the world)- in this case, Yggdrasil.

Xerneas is the embodiment of life, and embodies aspects of the tree itself, plus seems to be based off of the 4 stags that eat at the branches of the tree. Their names are Dáinn, Dvalinn, Duneyrr and Duraþrór- no, I don't know how to pronounce those either, but basically as they eat at the branches, the life dew that forms on their antlers flows downwards to create rivers of the world. That's how we get to Xerneas being the tree, the stags, and life itself.

Yveltal is death, and possibly based on an "unnamed eagle" that sits atop the World Tree- aka the Y axis- Or it could possibly be the hawk called Veðrfölnir that sits between the eyes of the unnamed eagle. These birds are attested to be a source of knowledge and possibly are based off of Odin's ravens, which fly off and return with new knowledge. Hawks, Eagles, and Ravens are all birds associated with death to some degree, whether killing prey itself or scavenging dead corpses. That could be how we get a death bird that opposes a life deer

Zygarde is most likely based on the Nidhogg, a dragon that feasts on the roots of Yggdrasil and in particular seems to actually be a villain in early stories. The Nidhogg apparently nibbled and ate corpses of those who lost honor, particularly those guilty of adultery, murder, and oathbreaking. In this case, the fact that Zygarde watches the ecosystem could be a simple role reversal to what Yveltal was supposed to be, and could even embody various aspects of Norse pantheon itself.

Now there is one more prominent creature that could be worked with- Ratatosk- which is a squirrel like creature that communicates messages between the unnamed eagle and Nidhogg, and basically was sort of a chatty gossip that seemed to start shit on purpose, basically harassing the fauna of the tree and continuing the fued between Eagle and Nidhogg. This could already be incorporated into Zygarde's cell system, as the cells communicate with each other across the world- but seem to exist to SOLVE problems instead.

Still, as we've seen from the above, Game Freak isn't afraid to remix or twist ideas to make their own. So I'm gonna say Ratatosk has a strong chance of being legendary A, in this case. Something to note is that it may not be 100% a squirrel in this case, much like how Zygarde is a snake and a dragon, but it's still something that can be meddled with.

Now the question would be: what does A bring to the table that Life, Death, and Order does not?

Before that, let's ask WHY there'd be a Legendary A. Xerneas and Yveltal, by nature, are beings that go into long slumber once they've done their jobs- according to XY, that would have been about 3k years before the start of the story, where Yveltal drained the life of everyone and thing around it before turning into a cocoon, and/or Xerneas becoming a tree that granted life instead.

GF can do whatever they want, but there's something else to note: if ZA takes place ENTIRELY within Lumiose, that means we're not going to Geosenge where the cocoon or tree were to power the cannon Lysander almost destroyed the world with. Now they'll probably bring them back anyway, but if they'd play as big of a role as Zygarde, why not call the game XYZ like the anime?

Hence A. Pokemon loves legendary duos, and so A could potentially be the opposite of Zygarde. In other words: CHAOS, the opposite of order.

This could fit imo, given that Ratatosk loved to start shit. Not to mention, A is opposite to Z in the alphabet- certainly would explain why it pops up against the established XYZ.

Of course, you can't talk about Norse mythology in the modern Era without bringing up Thor or Loki. While Thor has yet to be represented imo (and hey, who is to say all we get is A in this case for a new legendary), Loki is probably one of the most well known people from this mythos. And, again, given that we've established that GF isn't afraid to mix things around, I personally think A will be a mix of Loki and Ratatosk.

In other words, a trickster that THRIVES on starting shit.

While it's initial basis for Ratatosk is a squirrel, Loki was a shapeshifter that took on various forms, including the infamous horse that would give birth (yes Loki got pregnant and gave birth) to the 8 legged horse, Sleipnir. Loki also took forms of creatures such as a fly, a salmon, and even an elderly woman.

Now picture this: doesn't this sound like something that could be used for traversal? A salmon or fish form for surfing, a fly or flying insect form for gliding or flying, a horse for faster traversal- if we throw in the squirrel, that could easily climb things, and the elderly woman could easily be worked in either as a villain, npc, or even integrated into a final form akin to Zygarde's 100% form.

So does the Pokemon transform? Does it work like Zygarde and have bits and pieces to collect? If it's Chaos, why would it help us?

That I'm unsure of. It may not even happen- but we do need a reason as to why suddenly Zygarde is okay with humans rebuilding Lumiose. And again, it could simply be trying to start shit, perhaps helping us retake a Lumiose reclaimed by nature as a way to simply piss off Zygarde. Of course, it could also be the enemy that took over Lumiose to begin with, or it could simply be a generic friend Pokemon, who knows.

It could even be that those forms mentioned earlier could be taken separately as new forms or special Pokemon akin to the likes of Wyrdeer or Kleavor. Or not at all of course.

We won't know jack until we get an actual trailer for the game itself, but I think that the red tinge in the title art could indicate something. Unclear what.

If I were to think of a name... Aosk? Like Chaos and Ratatosk. And the animal? A rat. On the nose, but snakes eat rats, and Zygarde is a snake. Duality, bitches.

We can probably assume AZ will be here since he's cursed with immortality, and we can't ignore the fact that Z-A is AZ backwards. So whatever it is, legendary A might have something to do with him as well.

In fact, now that I think about it, that red tinge does match the color of the canon... what if this was a Pokemon directly created as a result of the canon?

Anyway that's all my rambling.

[thegnomelord]

sof and cute hcs of eldritch reader trying to learn how to people (and maybe some raunchy ones about learning how human "mating" works) hhhhnnnngggh

Imagine Learning To Be Human

CW: SFW and NSFW First TF141 with SFW, then NSFW headcannons, sexting, masturbation, sex toys, morning after (no sex), sexual nudity, nonsexual nudity, implied poly141. GN reader, 500-900 words for each blurb, so somewhere around 5.5k words. Imma be quiet for the next week or so as I prepare for an exam so I'm feeding ya'll :Dd

Imagine SOAP— It's safe to say you're not the best with expressing what you think, especially not in this hollowed out corpse a tiny fraction of your consciousness inhabits. The more you try, the less human your attempts come out, only remembering that humans don't bend that way or don't do something after you've done it. You find yourself gravitating to Soap because he is the opposite of you, so open and responsive like an open book.

Imagine; observing Soap as he tries to piece together the fragments of a bomb, muttering curses under his breath as if the object had just called football 'soccer'. He's so concentrated he forgets the rest of the world exists, oblivious to you sitting across from him. But that's not a problem as it gives you a chance to watch and try to mimic what his face does; the slight hint of teeth as he nibbles on his lip, the furrow of his brows, the tenseness of his jaw pulling on his throat muscles…

You try to mimic every emotion he goes through as he tries and fails and succeeds and fails again to fit the pieces together like a jigsaw, but the hardest one to do is that smile of his. For some reason you just can't get it right, lips pulling back too far, teeth too much on display and brows too furrowed so you end up looking like an old savage.

Then as if to spite you, Soap looks up at you and immediately snorts. "What're yea doin' there Bonnie?" He coughingly laughs as your facial features return to your statue like state.

"Trying to look like you." You huff; at least you can do that correctly.

"Oh, look strapping don't I?" He snorts, doing what Ghost calls 'fishing for compliments' (though you're unsure how one can fish for abstract ideas).

"No more than the rest." You shrug and see him roll his eyes, though the corners of his lips are still quirked up, a hint of teeth on display and vestiges of dimples framing his mouth. "How do I do that?" You ask and motion to his face.

"Do what? Smile?" You snorts, already beckoning you over like you're a dog. "It's easy."

You lean across the table, tilting your head to indicate confusion but leaving your face a blank canvas. It takes all of your presence of mind not to give an earth shattering purr when his hands cup your jaw, distant stars quivering as his blunt nails scratch at your throat for a blissful second.

"Here," His thumbs settle at both corners of your lips, putting gentle pressure until he pushes the flesh back and up in a way that's natural to the skin suit but not you. "There yea go." He grins and pulls his thumbs away after a few moments, grinning when you hold the expression.

"Now yea're as dashing as me." He chuckles and you two must look like utter buffoons just grinning at one another; you wouldn't have it any other way.

Imagine GAZ — You're not exactly alive, technically you're the antithesis to life and existence, so to you, simple rules like eating or sleeping are no more than chalk guidelines after a rainstorm. Gaz doesn't subscribe to this idea, he's always trying to get you to indulge in these human comforts and you always allow him, even if it does include eating more things in a week than most of your kin have consumed in a millennia, if that.

Imagine; wandering the halls on a lazy Sunday morning, no drills to run or missions to prep for, and being drawn to the communal kitchen by the sound of boiling water and banding pans. You find Gaz cooking breakfast for the boys; he's the only one who can cook (according to him) seeing as Price seasons his food with hope, Ghost burns everything into coal and Soap's not allowed into the kitchen after he'd tried to make tea in the microwave (which Gaz had later asked you to exorcise).

"Mornin'." Kyle yawns and smiles at you, dressed in shorts and one of your 'lost' shirts. You do your best to replicate his expression. "Help me, yeah?" He asks and nods his head at what he's cooking.

Your expression falls back to neutral. "You'll need to show me how." You admit as you get next to him.

"Not a problem," He chuckles as he shifts behind you, pressing his chest flush with your back with his hands hovering over yours. You feel his warmth when he rests his head on your shoulder, his hands firm and steady as he shows you how to chop tomatoes and sausages, how to hold the knife correctly and pulling your fingers back when the blade draws too close to the flesh, talking you through it until you can do it on your own.

After that he leaves you to your task as he almost dances around the kitchen, stirring a pot here then putting the kettle on there and so many more little things while you remain where you are because you, by nature, are slow; to adapt, to age, to change.

But you do it for him.

"Those look great." He grins when you're done and then herds you in front of the cooking pans, and you're a little apprehensive about the bubbling oil when he dumps what you'd cut up into the pan. But his warmth is at your back again, steady hands guiding you on how to cook the food without burning your skin and leaving you to it when you catch on.

Then you feel a tug on your shirt, his presence once again next to you, but this time he's holding a piece of sausage on the end of a fork, a hand beneath it so it doesn't drop, "Hey, taste this for me."

You contemplate arguing you can't actually taste food the same way he does, but he gives you a look that has you letting him feed you. Though it tastes no different from everything else, from his hand it may as well be sweeter than ambrosia.

"Tastes good." The way he brightens up at your words makes the food only taste sweeter.

Imagine GHOST —You and him are similar in some ways, you both prefer to stick to what you know, who you know. It's harder for you to contain what you are inside your flesh body when there is so much life around you that every additional heartbeat pulls at the edge of your cold existence. So you stick to close to the people who's warmth has grown so familiar it's indistinguishable from the burning starts making up your real body.

Imagine; attending a celebration held by both TF141 and Los Vaqueros after a mission gone well, loud music and lewd lyrics blaring in your ears as men drink like teenagers at their first frat party. You're in a more secluded part of the bar next to Ghost, both of you nursing drinks while you watch the rest act like fools.

You're a little confused when you see Gaz and Soap move in a strange way, grinding against one another and pressed so close you'd think they're trying to mate, their hands roaming the other's body so roughly you're surprised no pieces of clothing come flying your way.

"Got a free show for my drink." Ghost chuckles next to you.

"What are they doing?" You finally ask when you can't contain your curiosity.

"Dancing." He answers and swallows the last inch of booze in his cup, setting it down on the bar. "For fun." He adds, already expecting the line of questioning, as if that's supposed to make you understand.

"They just look like they're trying to mate." You point out, receiving a long sigh in return.

"How 'bout I just show you." Before you can say anything he nicks the cup of untouched alcohol in your hand and swallows it all down in one go, putting the empty cup next to his before grabbing you by the arm and pulling you outside through the back entrance. You go along with him, but you're confused when you catch Soap's eyes and he wolf whistles at the two of you.

The world outside is calmer than the busy bar, the air much colder; closer to what you are. You turn to him once he lets you go, tilting your head and furrowing your brow to convey confusion. "So…what do I do?"

"Just follow my lead." A gravely chuckle escapes Simon as he closes the distance between you two, his rough hands settling on your waist as he begins to slowly rock both of your bodies along with the music, though his movements are more contained than what you'd seen, a steady push and pull compelling you to follow him.

"Why is this different than what Soap and Gaz were doing?" You ask, clutching his shoulders in return, your forehead almost resting on his chest as you look at your feet so you don't step on his toes.

You feel his chest vibrate as he chuckles, "They set a low bar." He rumbles and his hand moves to your jaw, tilting your head up so you two lock eyes, the intensity in his brown irises drowning out the sounds of the bar. "Eyes on me."

You nod. Your eyes stay firmly on him as you sway together to a tune he hums, finding a common ground in the way your cold and his heat mixes together. Above you millions of your eyes peer down at him, for as vast as you are, for this moment your attention is on him.

Imagine PRICE — He can tell how tired you are, not physically but mentally; having to communicate and understand people without the use of a mental link, when even the most complex ideas can be conveyed easily, was starting to fray the edges of your control over your human body. He decided to do something about it.

Imagine; Price taking you and the boys fishing to a remote cabin next to a lake. Knowing you don't sleep he pulls you out by the lake at the ass crack of dawn, having you watch as he sits down on the dock, his pants pulled up to his knees so he can dip his feet in the water while he sets up the fishing rods.

"What are we doing?" You ask but follow his example and sit next to him, the cool water of the lake similar enough to the cold abyss your true body resides to calm your nerves, though you're unsure of what to do when he gives you the fishing rod.

"Fishing." He says as he shows you how to cast out the line. "You look like you need it."

You don't argue with him and just try focusing on fishing, letting him teach you how to watch the line to see when something takes the bait and when to reel it in. You’re unsuccessful your first few attempts, and you have half the mind to just jump in and wrangle the fish in the lake with liquid abyss, but he stops you.

"Catching isn't the point." He says as he smokes his cigar while he takes an old boot off your hook. "It's about relaxing, the fish are just a bonus."

You let out a low sound that vibrates the water, but you settle next to him and cast out the line again. You don’t know how long you sit there next to him, your sides touching with the fishing rod sitting loosely in your hands. After some time you manage to yank out your first fish, and you certainly don't gloat when you pull a few more fish out of the lake while he only pulls out seaweed, but the look of pride in his eyes makes it even better.

Any prospects of catching any more fish are dashed when Gaz and Soap wake up and take running jumps into the lake, scaring all the fish with their splashing. "Like school boys." Price remarks as Ghost comes up to you both, offering beers as he sits down on your other side.

"Summer vacation, captain." Ghost says and slips into the water, and you realize this is calming; in the way you haven't felt before, doing something familiar like watching Soap and Gaz trying to dunk each other in the water but feeling like you’re right there with them, laughing alongside them when Ghost scares the shit out of them by lunging out of the water.

“See sweetheart? ‘S not hard.” Price hums, adjusting his hat though his shoulders are already reddened from sunburns. He offers you his cigar and you accept it, breathing in the nicotine and smoke despite not having lungs or a circulatory system to be affected by it, before you give it back. “Taking it easy is good for you.”

You nod your head, content to sit next to him until something tugs on the line of your forgotten fishing rod and you scramble to reel it in. You give a small grunt as whatever is on the hook struggles, "Yank on it." Price tells you and you do, nearly toppling on your back when you finally win the tug of war. You blink as you look at what you've caught.

A Speedo.

"Well would you look at that." Price chuckles.

Judging by the way Johnny's suddenly bare assed and throwing obscenities in Gaelic your way, you assume that it's his.

“Caught a big one there.” Ghost notes, not yet laughing but his shoulders shake with silent laughter as he slaps Soap's cheeks (of his rear).

He yelps, confident enough to be naked in front of all of you, but not shameless enough to where his cheeks (on his face) don't redden from the way Gaz cackles and wheezes with laughter so loudly he nearly drowns. You give Johnny back his trunks before he can drown Gaz but, maybe you should fish any more.

NSFW:

Imagine SOAP— If anyone ever asks Soap why he would ever send a dick pick to an ancient god, he'll blame anything and everything; on being stood up, on loving himself a little less, on mixing up the numbers, in being black out drunk…

Imagine; him being stone cold sober when the thought invades his mind and he spends the next hour trying to take a good picture: in front of the mirror, on the bed, no clothes, some clothes, the list of positions goes on. He doesn't want to come across like he's compensating by just holding his dick in his hand like some cunt; as silly as it is, he wants the picture to actually tempt you, to make you feel something, though the question of if you even can doesn't cross his mind. He ends up with a picture of him on the bed, the tip of his hard cock peeking out from beneath the band of his boxers.

He won’t admit he holds his breath when he sends the suggestive picture to you alongside a ;) , watching the text bubble appear and disappear multiple times before you just leave him on seen. He deflates and has half the mind to delete the picture and chuck his phone to the other end of his bed but he’s stopped when he gets a message from Price.

‘My office. Now.’

Turns out you were with Price when you saw that photo and without a second thought had shown him it and asked what it meant. Granted Price had seen more than just his dick, but he was less than happy about Johnny sending you unsolicited dick pics.

You quiz Soap for nearly an hour, stone faced and unbothered while he gets redder with every question (what can you send, what not to send, how much to send, etc.) and he gets the impression that's how his ma' felt when she gave him and his sisters 'the talk'. “So, yeah.” He clears his throat, whole face feeling hot. “Don’t do it ‘lest yea’r asked or yea like ‘em.”

Thankfully Price finally lets you go when you’re satisfied with his answers and Soap can’t scamper fast enough out of his office with his whole face in flames.

He deletes the photo soon after but you've already burned it into your memory where it will outlast the stars, and the idea to reciprocate festers in your ageless mind like rot until you find yourself in front of your mirror after a shower. You play with the phone for a long time, snapping a few blurry close up shots of your face while you attempt to change it from the front to the back facing camera.

It takes even longer to figure out what to send as Soap wasn't that clear with his answers. Your siblings give you pointers, and first you attempt to take a picture of your most private part — bones snap as your rib cage splits open into a maw, vines full of eyes wrapping around your ribs like ivy as tendrils of darkness unwind just enough for the anti-light of your very essence sucks up all the light in the room — but the mirror cracks and your phone just shuts off with a pitiful whimper.

After fixing the mirror you end up doing what you do best; you mimic one of the statues you'd seen the Greeks make, the towel wrapped just along the V where your thighs connect to your pelvis, exposed from the waist up with your skin still wet. Your body isn't as demure as the muses that sculptor had used, but you hope Soap will appreciate it as you snap a few more photos and send them to Johnny with the same ;) he'd sent you.

Soap nearly chokes on his spit when he gets the photo, all the blood in his brain flooding south as his eyes rake over every exposed inch of skin, every curve and every dip in the muscles making him drool and cock harden and he's racing to your room before you even have the time to turn your phone off.

Imagine GAZ — For all of your pitfalls and misunderstandings he likes the little hints of inhumanity in your speech, in your mannerisms, in knowing you could be anywhere and anytime but you choose to be next to him. He couldn't imagine himself being enamored with an ant, yet you hang on his every word like he's revealing secrets you don't know, making him feel special; he feels so bad when his thoughts of you stop being innocent.

Imagine; He tries to keep things respectful, but his imagination runs wild when you do the simplest things. Bend down to tie your shoe? He's checking out your arse from the corner of his eyes. Stand behind him? He's suppressing a shiver just imagining your body draped over his in post-coital bliss. Check his skin for injuries? Gaz has to bite his lip to keep from begging you to touch all of him, to explore his body. Work out? Kyle's lucky if he doesn't start drooling imagining going over and licking the sweat off your skin, of feeling your muscles tense beneath his tongue while you continue to work out with him between your legs.

When he can't think of you without popping a boner he ends up having to compromise before the shame eats him whole. He goes on a random porn site; he usually prefers just using his imagination but when his mind keeps circling back to you he has no other option, and his conscience gnaws on him when he ends up finding a porn star with similar features to yours. It's not wrong if he's wanking off to a different person, right?

Heat's already burning in his stomach when he slouches in his chair, his back to his room and one earbud in his ear. Shame continues to eat at him when he's both delighted and disheartened by the fact the porn star sounds nothing like you, that his bones don't shiver like they do when you talk.

He keeps the volume low and instead focuses on rubbing and squeezing his cock the way the porn star does to a second actor, and he can't help imagining what you'd sound like; high pitched and whiny? Husky and low? Completely silent or animalistic? The idea of pulling sounds of pleasure out of your throat has him leaking. His head lolls back and he moans as he squeezes the base of his cock, his eyes open just enough to blur the fine details on the porn star's face so you two become indistinguishable.

His heart stops when you burst through his door, a random question leaving your lips before your ears pick up the moans and slick sounds coming from his direction. You're next to him in an instant, looming over his chair and caging him in with your eyes stuck to the screen. "What are you watching?"

"Get out!" He yelps and tries to push you away but it's like trying to move a mountain.

"Why does that human look like my vessel?" You persist, "And why are you watching humans mating when you told me it's wrong?" You tilt your head, luckily not seeing his hand on his hard cock, the porn reflecting in the blacks of your eyes.

“It’s on the net it’s different! People upload it for others' pleasure and-” He sputters and cuts himself off when he registers your words, freezing in place and that accidentally gets him to squeeze the head of his cock.

Your pupils widen like a cat’s when you hear the little moan escape his chest, your head automatically dropping down to see where his other hand is. "Oh,” is what comes out of your mouth when you see his hard weeping cock. “Can I?” You ask, making an odd motion with your head.

He thinks you're asking to leave and nods. "Yeah-" Gaz wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole, his cheeks burning red like he's a lobster in a pot. “-can you pl-please leave-”

He wheezes when your cold hand suddenly wraps around his cock, your hold firm and just at the edge of pain but still making him throb. A few more eyes spread across your skin to see him while you watch the video still playing on his computer, giving his cock a small pump and shaking the stars with your purr when he moans.

"What are-" He neck nearly snaps to look at you, a shiver raking his body and another moan escaping him as you squeeze the head of his cock, your skin like ice yet it makes him burn with arousal.

"Watch." You order and turn his head with your free hand so his eyes are back on the screen. You don't know why he's watching a fake 'you' mate when he could just ask you, but you know one thing; the person on the screen is competition, and by the way you roughly stroke his cock until he's whining and leaking like a tap, Gaz can tell— you don't like competition.

Imagine PRICE — He never imagined he'd need to have 'the talk' with a god; sure, you may understand how sex works, but you're hopeless in understanding the nuances of it all. If someone doesn't directly say 'let's fuck' you assume any touches from them, even groping, is just them being friendly. It makes his blood boil, seeing you be taken advantage of like that.

Imagine; You're in the bar with the boys and Price is a couple of drinks in when he sees being felt up by a stranger and you're oblivious to his advances. A green eyed monster nips at Price's heels and he doesn't notice when he puts himself next to you, 'accidentally' shoving the other guy back with just his bulk. His presence, his demeanor, and the few harsh words spoken in a clipped tone has the other guy scampering off.

He doesn't remember much after that, only the way you'd looked at him — with the intensity of a ravenous void, like he was a bright star you wanted to devour.

What wakes him isn't his clock, but the rays of sunlight gently streaming through the curtains. He groans as he registers the awful ache behind his eyes before he even has a chance to open them. He feels his bed shift and his eyes snap open automatically, he nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees you laying on your side as you stare at him.

"Jesus!" He jumps up, nearly topples over from the sudden vertigo but your steady hand on his shoulder keeps him upright, making him realize he's nude.

"He's not here." You shrug and as you sit up his sheets pool around your waist, making him realize you're naked from the waist up, though he doesn't want to think if you're naked naked. His fists clench when his eyes roam over your exposed body against his will, settling on the various hickeys decorating your shoulders and neck.

His heart sinks. "What…what happened last night?" He asks and doesn't want to know the answer, his stomach churns with shame.

"Oh, uh, you got drunk, I got you home, you started kissing and biting me." You say, tracing the numerous hickeys and indents of his teeth across your human form like they're medals. "Then you pulled me into your bed and wouldn't let me go. Then you passed out." You say as if nothing's wrong, and even if no sex happened it's little consolidation to the fact he took advantage of you.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” He asks as he takes a shaky breath, shoulders hunched up around his ears and eyes downcast, bile burning in his stomach.

"Why would I?" You tilt your head and shift positions to face him fully, the sheets falling away to reveal you are naked naked. "I may not understand you fully, but I would have stopped you if you did something I didn't want."

Price hates himself for how he can't tear his eyes away from your body. "But you let me." He insists and tries to get you to see reason, to be as angry and disgusted with him as he is with himself.

“Yes.” You are growing annoyed as well, silently cursing the frailty of the human mind; things would be easier to explain if you could just use mental communication… “You are less than insects to my kin.” You sigh and move to straddle him before he can get away, pinning him under you. “You are a sun to me.”

Even calling him a sun doesn’t do him justice; suns die out like firecrackers when your immeasurable body passes over them, when you devour them, him, you want to keep, to protect, to wrap in your cold abyss until he’s warm and safe.

He sucks in a breath, the gears in his head turning as he tries to understand. “What?-”

“Can I touch you?” You ask, your hands respectfully on your thighs as if you’re not pinning him in place with your weight. There’s a dark intelligence in your eyes, the same ravenous void staring at him behind the black of your eyes. You are not a child, you are a god.

"Why?" He sucks in a sharp breath as he breathes in your smell, the scent of dying stars and burn ozone tickling his lungs. "You don't have to." He says weakly, because what would anyone, god or not, want with him?

"You left marks on me, I want to do the same." The way you say it makes him think of godhood; not the bleak madness you are, but the type humanity romanticizes. Your lips part as if you're thinking of marking him, bits of oblivion staring back at him from the darkness of your throat when he looks too closely at your mouth.

He submits so fast. "C'mere then," He pulls you close by your head, kissing you like he's trying to steal your ichor, his body burning hot when your hands grip him tight enough to leave moon shaped bruises in his skin — the first of many you intend to give him, until you've marked him as yours and yours alone.

Imagine GHOST — Ghost prefers to show you rather than spend hours trying to explain things to you, he's more stricter with you when you try to do things you're told not to, both for your and everyone's safety. You never do quite learn.

Imagine; Ghost recently confiscated your phone when you tried to see what humans thought about you, or what they imagined you and your kin to be, on a website called 'Rule34'. Ghost had snatched the phone out of your hands before you could even click the link. After a week he gave you the go ahead to take it back, but got called to run a drill so just said to go find it.

Now, you've been told not to go rooting around other people's belongings, but while searching for your phone you'd fallen back into your old habit and snooped around until you found a small box in the bottom of his dresser. Thinking nothing of it you opened it and found…something. A lot of somethings; handcuffs, rope, weird egg shaped thing, a weird tube with a hole in it that squished like a stress toy but had a cunt molded at one end, but what drew your attention — was the dismembered black cock in the middle of the box.

You and all of your kin scratched your collective heads over the thing you now held in your hand, you'd been under the impression humans didn't carry around body parts anymore so you were stumped why Ghost had a dismembered dick and balls in his dresser. Besides the pitch black color and flat base it looked so realistic and the way it flopped when you turned it in your hand made you feel the same way humans did when seeing you.

So you got up and wen to ask Ghost about it, the thing held out in your hand when you found him with the rest of the boys. "Ghost, why do you a have body part in your closet?"

Your question made them all turn to look at you, Ghost made a strange sound like a strangled dog while Gaz and Soap fell over laughing and Price shielded his eyes with the rim of his hat.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell.” He snarls and before you know it he’s stomping over to you and dragging you by the front of your clothes, “What I tell you about snooping?”

“I couldn’t find my phone,” You try to argue but don’t struggle and just let him drag you somewhere like you're a kitten until you find yourself in his room with the door firmly locked behind him.

"Right." His tone makes it sound like he doesn't believe you, his rough hand pushes you down on his bed and he yanks the thing from your hold. “You want to know what this is for?” He asks and holds the the cock with the head pointed at you like a knife.

You nod your head and try to rise up but he pushes you back down, you're not even sure where he gets the handcuffs from but there's cold steel around your wrists before you can notice it. It's his order to "Sit and watch." that actually keeps you down, and you see the corners of his eyes shift to denote a smirk. "Do what you're good at."

You don't blink as you watch him disrobe until he's only wearing his mask, and your surprise is obvious when he sticks the thing on the floor and it stays up right. "This," He growls and sinks to his knees on the floor, a towel under him, "Is a fuckin' dildo." He reaches over and takes a small tube, squirting viscous liquid on his fingers. "You don't ever take it out of my room. Got it."

He leaves no room to argue and you rapidly nod your head. You find yourself breathless as you watch him reach behind himself and you don’t even notice how a bit of your oblivion leaks from your pores and spreads across the ground like spiderwebs, eyes blooming in the small pools all around him so you can see the way he roughly pushes a finger into himself, your hands clenching as his rim flutters around his large fingers.

"What is it for?" You find your voice, the sound ringing like the inside of a dead star the longer you watch him roughly stretch himself, pushing two then three fingers into his ass.

"Fun," He chuckles and feels so powerful when your eyes have all but turned black with hunger you've yet to notice. "It's a toy, for adults." He pulls his fingers out and squirts more liquid on the dildo, before sinking down on the toy in one fluid move that leaves him hissing at the stretch, his rim fluttering around the thick base.

Something about the way the toy is of a similar color to your real body has you wriggling beneath your human skin, the air vibrating as you groan and try to reach out to him, wanting to cover him in your body and have all of him feel all of you.

"No." Just one word has you sitting back on the bed like a dog, a pitiful sound rumbling across the void as you can do nothing but watch. "This is what you get for snooping." He's so smug with the way he has such control over you without even touching you, his thick thighs tensing as he slowly bounces on the dildo, "Now watch. Maybe if you're good I'll let you touch me."

You'll do whatever he says so long as you get to feel him.

[sanguiscaroclavus]

this is my horny outlet sideblog! if you’d like my main just send an ask about it! I live in a very red state and try to keep some parts of me on the down low, you understand! TERFs and other unmentionables are obviously not welcome here! I’m a bi transfemme in my 30s, you’re more than welcome to send me a dm or anon or anything at all! If you’d like to hear about some broad strokes of my likes and dislikes simply look under the cut 😇

I am typically more of a stone top since transitioning, with a low sex drive! Sometimes however it really kicks in and I certainly don’t say no to being submissive my likes: bodies! Ass! some bdsm! exploring! My neck being touched! My ears being nibbled! Making out! Yearning! Some cnc and intox stuff! Anonymity! Masks! Show me what you’re into and let’s find out together how my body responds! I like someone who knows what they want, let me know how best to pleasure you and we can both get off about it~ my dislikes: dd/lg! Being heavily degraded or humiliated! Scat! Lotsa blood! I’ll add more as they come up!

[livestock-and-bibles]

i updated my designs for the lords in black as humans!! 

im gonna put some headcanons and notes abt my designs under the cut

WIGGLY:

-oldest kid

-definitely the meanest 

-bullies his sibs for sure

-hes got that splatoon tentacle hair 

-most likely to become a tumblr sexyman

-i gave him a similar cape to linda bc of their connection

TINKY:

-second oldest

-feral

-close with pokey

-def a bit fruity

-just a silly little guy

-i actually almost posted this without realizing that i forgot to draw his horns. oops

POKEY:

-youngest kiddo

-theatre kid

-short

-hair is VERY WET, just goop, not actual hair

-wears one of those glittery vests in Turn it Off from Book of Mormon

-brat

BLINKY:

-third oldest

-nibblys older twin :DD

-chaotic

-menace to his siblings

-just wants to watch the world burn

-i gave him Choso’s hair from jjk bc i thought it would look like the fuzzy ears on his plush

NIBBLY:

-fourth oldest

-blinkys younger twin

-very lazy, cant be bothered

-always steals others leftovers

-hardest for me to design

-talks a lot

i hope u like them lol

[musicalfan78]

nibbly, lex, ethan, cynthia houston, and wilbur cross for character ranking :DD

Nibbly: 9.5/10. The little piggly teeth dude :)

Lex and Ethan: 8/10

Cynthia: 9.8/10 she is just: Amazing tbh

Wilbur Cross: 1000/10 HE IS THE GUYYY

...

[arlerts-angel]

😍😵‍💫🍷 with my both darken and armin!

armin:

😍 — something they do that drives you crazy (in a good way)

lick his lips 😩

😵‍💫 — something you do that drives them crazy in a good way)

nibble his ear 🤫

🍷 — who's the lightweight, who's the DD?

he's the lightweight, i'm the dd

draken:

😍 — something they do that drives you crazy (in a good way)

when he side eyes me 🤪

😵‍💫 — something you do that drives them crazy in a good way)

play with his hair 🤭

🍷 — who's the lightweight, who's the DD?

i'm the lightweight, he's the dd!