#Dice Drabble

[partyofwords]

11:01 PM ~ *Dice Arisugawa*

Summary: It's late and Dice has showed up at your place to crash. However, he's absolutely filthy. Well, you have to do something about that...

Pairing: Dice Arisugawa X G/N!Reader

Genre: Suggestive Drabble

Word Count: 984

Warning: nudity, slight innuendo

Masterlist

A/N: I know exactly what I did. I do not regret it one bit.

There was a knock at your door. You were confused. You weren't expecting anyone this late at night. Who could it possibly be? When you opened the door, you mentally smacked yourself. You should've known better. Who else would come visit you out of the blue at this hour of the night.

Dice gave you a sheepish grin. "Can I come in?"

"Not smelling like that, you're not." You groaned and covered your nose. "Seriously, did you walk through the sewers to get here?"

He gave an awkward laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. "More like I woke up in the landfill, and on my way back to Shibuya, I walked through some sewers and back alleys with less than pleasant garbage."

"Why?"

"I needed to see you." He gave you pleading eyes as he dropped to his knees and clasped his hands before him. "Please let me come in! I want to sleep somewhere warm and have a hot meal and you're the best at both! Please, please, please, do me this favor and I'll pay you back tenfold, I promise!"

You groaned. You shouldn't indulge in his disgusting behavior. You should toss him to the street, like the stray dog he was. But you knew he would go and bother Ramuda or Gentaro, and you wouldn't hear the end of it from them if you did. So instead, you mentally cursed yourself out, and allowed him to enter.

"Take off your shoes and coat first." You said. "And then go straight upstairs. You're taking a bath before you even think about trekking any more of your filth into my place."

He gave you a mock salute. "Yes ma'am."

As he did as he was told, you purse your lips. You knew Dice. You knew that his baths were few and far between. You knew it was a bad idea, but you really didn't need him destroying your bathroom, not if you could help it.

You trail after him and before he shuts the bathroom door, you hold it open. He gives you a slightly worried smile. "What's up?"

"I'm going to help you."

He paled at your words. "No, you really don't have to-"

"Dice, I'm helping you, end of discussion."

"But..." He stopped when he saw your serious expression. He swallowed thickly before nodding. "Okay."

You entered the bathroom and began to turn the water on. You heard him undress behind you. You didn't turn to face him, trying to give him a modicum of privacy. When he alerted you that he was ready, you turned away and allowed him to get in.

You kept your eyes firmly on his upper body, allowing them to scan over his toned chest muscles. He seemed a little self conscious as he crossed his arms, but you rolled your eyes.

"It's nothing I haven't seen before, Dice. You take your shirt off all the time in the summer. And when Ramuda forces you to model for him."

"This is different." His voice is quiet, and a bit breathier. You don't comment on it. You want to save him some of his pride.

You instead get to work on washing his hair. Though you have to ignore what could be living in it, you are thorough with your washing. Your fingers work through each knot gently and you give him a small scalp massage as you do so. At first his posture is stiff and rigid, but the more you card your fingers through his hair, he begins to relax. He leans into your touch and you can hear him make soft sighs and whimpers. 

A sneaky thought enters your mind and you give an experimental tug on his hair. He lets out a noise that's a cross between a yelp of surprise and a moan. Just as you thought.

His cheeks explode with a blush and he tries to move away from you. "No fair."

"Sorry, I couldn't help myself."

"Just, hurry up, please."

"I will, I will." You then began to wash all the shampoo out of his hair. What was once a greasy, dark blue rat's nest, begins to lighten and soften under your touch. You've always loved Dice's hair. It was so pretty and matched his eyes. You wanted nothing more than to keep running your fingers through his soft hair. But there was still more work to be done.

While his eyes were still closed, you began to lather up a loofah and began to scrub him down. He yelped again at your touch, but you quietly shushed him. His eyes bore into yours as you carefully and expertly scrubbed his arms, neck, back, and chest. You didn't go any lower, again, trying to save him some pride.

"Do you want me to do your legs or do you have it covered?" You asked sweetly.

"I'll be fine." He muttered. As you stood up to leave, he reached out his hand to grab your wrist. "Um... thank you."

"You're welcome. There will be spare clothes for you outside of the door. You can change into them when you're done."

And with that, you left to get him some clean clothes to wear. You took his dirty clothes and instantly shoved them into your washer with as much soap as possible. After setting the clean clothes out, you went into your kitchen and began to make him a nice warm meal, just like he wanted.

As you finished up your cooking, he came out in the new clothes, and his hair dry. You gave him his meal, which he devoured in seconds. You then allowed him to sleep on the couch, giving him an extra blanket and pillow.

"Good night." He said as you headed for your room.

You paused and nodded to him. "Good night. And if you'd like, I can give you another bath in the morning."

[babyjakes]

devils roll the dice.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinkmas 2023

prompts | sex tape + medfet

pairing | hitman!robert pronge x innocent!reader

warnings | extremely dark, the darkest thing i've ever written (we've entered dead dove do not eat territory; please heed ALL warnings.) canon-level mature themes: kidnapping, torture films, murder. implications that reader will be killed. robert is cold and ruthless. innocent!virgin!reader. filming of illicit sex tape. reader is blindfolded and gagged. restraints. medfet elements: robert's little setup is giving vintage white tile exam room, exam table, stirrups, those gd black gloves, speculum use. clit focus (puff puff content incoming.) vibrator. multiple forced orgasms. squirting. overstimulation. mocking and degradation. robert puts a cig out on reader's leg. written in 3rd person idk.

word count | 1,485

an | i'm kind of sitting here like wtf, ,, what is this and how did it come out of me lol. a little nervous to post, but i trust you guys to make responsible decisions about the media you consume!!! i'll probably never write something this fucked up again but for whatever reason it was just flowing out of me tonight folks, please again i'm begging you go read the warnings, like a second time through wouldn't hurt lol, and i hope you enjoy!!

Bringing its bitter end to his lips, Robert used one hand to draw in a deep breath of his dwindling cigarette, the other lazily holding a black magic wand in its designated place. He was nearly an hour into the day's filming session, and his subject was reaching a level of exhaustion and misery that made her more annoying to play with than anything else. But knowing he needed to milk at least a little more footage out of her before putting her back under and calling it a day, the man kept at the task. He tried to remind himself that he should be enjoying himself; considering the kinds of commissions he generally had to choose from, this particular case was a treat. A pretty little virgin, as soft and pure as the early spring rain, with the most stunning body the criminal had ever had the privilege of defiling. He could spend another thirty minutes at his station, watching as all the life and dignity were drained out of his poor little victim like blood dripping to the cold tile floor.

Through the musty cloth rammed between her battered lips, the poor girl's cries were escalating as her tormentor swirled the curve of the wand's slick bulb over her burning clit. Robert knew what her worsening wails meant; with a callous grin, he pulled his cig from his mouth just in time to press its smoking end to the girl's inner thigh as she came. With the howl she let out, he was thankful for the buffer the gag provided. "Noisy little bitch," he laughed as her juices sprayed out against his gloved hands. "That's it, slut. Fucking take it."

Glancing at the camcorder sitting off to his side, Robert considered his options. As much satisfaction as he derived from seeing how many orgasms could be wrung out of the poor thing before her body knocked her out as an act of mercy, his sadistic tendencies were getting bored of the monotony. Tossing the used cigarette to the floor, the man slowed the wand to a stop. He rolled away slightly on his stool, tossing the condom that was wrapped over the toy's head into the large black trash bag sitting in the center of the large room's floor. This far into his career, Robert had his methods down to a science. There was a way to keep everything clean, everything untraceable.

It was the whole purpose of his "worksite"; it provided a secure, controlled environment for the entire job to take place in, from start to flatline finish. The "set" was by far his favorite portion of the space, and understandably so, as it's where his sick imagination got to run wild for hours, days on end. And his clients were just as enthusiastic about the vivid stage he had put together for their subjects to shine on. It was somewhat inspired by a vintage gynecology office. He had the classic off-white exam table, equipped with a daunting pair of metal stirrups that were always positioned just a little wider than what would be comfortable. A sturdy set of restraints were of course a must, and to make sure the camera picked up on every agonizing detail, he had installed an adjustable surgical light overhead that could be aimed and drawn in to illuminate any area or action he chose. He hadn't struggled to gather all the tools and instruments he could ever want, either. A few of his buyers were licensed professionals themselves, opening the door to acquiring inventory from the big-name brands in bulk.

The other corners of the room had their designated uses as well: one with a filthy mattress for the unconscious victims to waste away on as heavy drugs pumped through their systems, another with large plastic sheets covering the floor, walls, and ceiling where the poor souls were hosed down (inside and out) before a bullet to the temple inevitably ended their long days of suffering. But most of their waking hours were spent on that dreaded padded table, the very spot where Robert's most recent capture was using the few moments he spent away from his station desperately trying to regain control of her breathing.

He returned to his position swiftly after switching out his soiled pair of black gloves for fresh ones, not wanting to waste any of his or his client's time. The sight of the girl's abused sex was enough to make the man drool; it had been quite some time since he had seen such a marvelous-looking cunt, so glorious in its messy destruction. Knowing he should share the beautiful sight, he took the time to adjust the camera, zooming in from a full-body shot to focus solely on the spot between the victim's legs. With the humiliating inspection he was preparing to perform, he wanted to be sure his buyer got to see each drop of come the poor girl let out, every twitch and spasm he would pull from her helpless body.

"Now let's see here," the man breathed as he brought his gloved fingers up to gently spread out the ruined-looking pussy before him. Noticing the way his subject winced as her puffy folds were pried open, he couldn't help but laugh in dark delight. He drew his attention to her throbbing clit, noting how much it had grown in size from all those unwanted orgasms he had forced out of her. Its hood was completely retracted, leaving the poor bud exposed to the open air. In a moment of perverted curiosity, Robert pinched the hardened nub harshly between his fingers, earning the prettiest sob he had heard from the girl all day. He chuckled once more, rolling and pulling at the knot of flesh for a few more seconds of additional torture before finally moving his hands away.

"What do you think? Should we try for one more?" he mused mockingly as he grabbed a plastic speculum from one of the drawers built in beneath the table, unwrapping it and tossing its trash to the side before pausing to grin deviously over his victim. Glancing up at her head, he realized it was still covered with a black hood he had put on her at the beginning of the shoot. The buyer had requested for her to be blindfolded like this for a decent portion of the film, offering the explanation that she was "afraid of the dark," and that he wanted to see her in as much pain and fear as humanly possible. The hood had served its purpose for the day, but now, Robert wanted the poor girl to see each and every way he was going to be violating her body in real time. In one swift motion, he reached up and pulled the pocket of fabric away, exposing her stunning tear-stained face. "Hi sweetheart," he greeted viciously. Just as he was hoping, her cries worsened as she saw the dreaded tool in his hands. He had a certain liking for holding up the devices he was preparing to use to see his victim's reactions; after all, he got off on fear and dread just as much as his clients did.

"Time to open up this pretty little cunt and see what kind of damage we did," the man enthused as he forced the tip of the instrument into the girl's drenched opening. By now, she had been well stretched out and ruined by her captor's horrific methods. Grappling with his usual lack of restraint and self-control, Robert had barely made the drive back with the girl tied up in his trunk without pulling over and popping that perfect little cherry on his own time, without a single camera properly rolling.

Turning the speculum as it was fully inserted, the man took great pleasure in squeezing the handle to force the tool open, each tiny click that sounded only stretching the poor thing's aching walls out to a further, more painful degree. "There," he sighed in satisfaction as the last notch was reached. Pulling his hands away, he gave himself and the camera a few seconds to enjoy the view of the girl's milky insides, so worn and sore from the days of torture she'd endured.

"Alright. One more," he finally hummed, using his gloved fingers to collect some of the plentiful slick dripping from the speculum before dragging them up to find that adorable little button he loved bullying so much. Her fading sobs were revived in an instant, her throat growing hoarse from all the screaming she'd done. But as much as she cried, Robert was determined to get one final orgasm from her before putting her back under for the day. After spending so much time making that pretty pussy as puffy and sensitive as possible, he deserved to see it coming all stretched out painfully over his instrument of choice.

[tilthedayidice]

Could I get a name palette for the name "Drabble" please?

Drabble is of old English origins from the name Drabil or Drabel meaning "To hew wood":

(its the shaping of logs into planks)

Dice Envy Thorn to be Wild

Dice Envy River Magic

Chessex Festive Vibrant

Chessex Lustrous Alpestris

Q-Workshop Green Forest

HD Dice Kiwi

Fennek & Finch Druidcraft

My color associations:

Dice Envy (I lost my name card :( )

Dice Envy Honeyed Words

Chessex Underworld Vortex

Chessex Festive Rio

HD Dice Ancient Gold

Ice Cream Dice Orange Float

Dark Moon Dice Evermore

[dice-nagito-ace]

Nine Clowns Walk Into A Hospital

king: hey wouldn't it be funny if we started dominating the world like joker keeps joking about

queen: king, you fucking megalomaniac queen: we go with russia first

OR; Post-Game VR AU where DICE, without it's beloved leader, commit to the bit.

so it was real and it wasn't, almost a sick imitation of limbo, purgatory in which they signed their lives away into it.

they're left in a room where they're all fine, technically, but there are echos of the experience that they can't shake off and they can't, exactly, talk about it, NDAs were such a pain.

they've all agreed to keep contact, if nothing else but the fact that only they could understand what it was like, their own bond forged in blood.

except, there was only one left missing, surgery had to be done the moment his simulation was disconnected, to stop the stress on his bones.

they don't know how to approach him, his presence lingered all the same within their minds, either way.

they're not sure on who's going to come out that door, the one before, the one after or an amalgamation of both.

they're not sure what they want to see.

they never get to.

because there's a knock on a different door and out comes and comes and it never stops until it does and now there's nine new people in their fragile haven, all in white suits and wearing masks, falling in line, waiting.

they ask– of course they ask and the one of the smaller ones, smiles, bared teeth and friendly but no doubt, ready to bite.

"we're waiting for joker."

it takes a while, but the detective is the first, easy enough to connect really, when he looks and sees– checkered items, somewhere on their person, black and white, whether that be socks, bracelets or their masks.

"you're- DICE...?"

they grin but say nothing else, waiting, watching, they're not here for them.

and when the doors burst open, grand entrance for a grand leader, heterochromatic eyes– and wasn't that a surprise, it shouldn't but it is– taking stock of the room, pausing in recognition to the lackeys he's missed, mouth parting to call only to stop.

kokichi stares, no grins, no cheeky remarks and it's almost more off putting to see him without his sharp edges and the DICE members fidget and squirm.

"what did you do?"

one of them cracks, "it was king's idea."

"lead by jack's unit!" "under queen's orders!"

they fall into squabbling and they have to blink and wonder why the fuck were they intimidated at all by these people.

"my royal flush, my sweet suits." kokichi trills in the tone of a waiting disappointed father or a simmering angry mother, a role reversal that has them all silenced as he smiles.

"what did you do?"

it's quiet, one of the boys cough.

"you won the russian election?"

...what.

but the biggest surprise was that kokichi wasn't, instead looking exasperated and checking his phone.

"i was gone for a month."

"it was a bet-" "we wanted to see if we could-" "come on, joker, you kept saying stuff about world domination-!" "you like the cold!" "we can go ice skating for free now-" "joker, please don't be mad-" "dad-" "HA! you called him dad, again!" "da- joker, it's a gift, surprise?"

DICE all but scrambles over to their boss, one of them begins putting on a hat and cape and his signature bandana, on top of the hospital gown he was still wearing.

"who were the other candidates?"

"they were assholes, joker-" "nooo, i don't want them in power." "come on, joker, they're letting us have panta imported there." "the public loves you-" "plus with danganronpa you're already in the public eye-"

they all watch as DICE fall over themselves to make up to their disgruntled head of the organization.

"and i'm guessing we have new recruits?"

"yeah!!! you're not lying when you said you have 10k now, boss!"

"gods, you're all clowns." "hey now, boss you called us a circus for a reason!"

[dansconcepts]

Lucky DICE

My take on the PhantomThief!Ouma AU (even though I have multiple takes in my docs so really this is more like just a DICE with Komaeda in it AU) based on the prompt in this Youtube short. It's meant to be a whole mystery-esque sorta thing? with some unreliable/misleading elements. The plot's roughly there (plot is really hard for me) but I'm hoping to fledge it out more maybe.

Shuichi tentatively roams the admittedly modest lair, equipped with the darkness of night lit only by a window. Rooms lead out from beyond the table that sits proudly beside a large retractable screen. Closed doors are lined with messages etched into their frames: names of DICE members, as well as personalized touches in the form of stickers and drawings.

The detective would find all of it honestly endearing if it wasn’t for the fact that they belong to the crime organization that’s been terrorizing the city for a while now. But seeing these hints at people, perhaps young, he begins to wonder- not for the first time- if he’s missing something intrinsically apparent in this whole case. What he needs is something concrete, something beyond the measly conjecture he has. 

His feet stop in front of the door he came here for. Supreme Leader it read, in messy scrawl and purple ink. There’s the silly art, serving as the signature that he knows so well beside it- a tiny caricature of DICE’s figurehead, with a peace sign, wink, and a stuck out tongue. And right underneath is the doorknob. It will get him answers, he knows, but he’s slow to lift his hand anyway. 

He bites his lip. Again, he wonders where his hesitance lies- a hunch with no evidence, reliant on a lingering feeling despite being met with all the facts. Shuichi doesn’t owe him anything. The Phantom Thief committed his crimes with an edge, a malice, and that strengthens his resolve.

The detective turns the door, slowly. His eyes dart around the room as the crack widens, absorbing the calming light that comes from a nightlight perched on a nightstand. A chessboard lays in the center, most pieces having remained and yet are arranged out of place on the board, only having a white king, black bishop, and assorted black and white pawns. Cans of Panta are haphazardly sprawled out everywhere. The bed looks pristine besides a slightly ruffled sheet. Alternatively, the desk, a beautiful dark wood, is a frenzy of suggested activity with papers and photos in seemingly disorganized piles and-

Is that a whiteboard? 

Normally, the idea of having a whiteboard in one’s bedroom isn’t the strangest thing, but the way it’s filled out with photos hung by tape and lines connecting both text and images makes him think he’s looking at a reflection of his own thinking board for this case. Perhaps a corkboard is too old-fashioned... Yet, he muses, he’s evolved from simple burglaries and mysteries to a syndicate of crime, and sticking to basics was the best way for him to start tackling such a jump. 

He approaches the board. The connections being made… it’s recent hits, with some locations being X’d out and others highlighted. There are faces he doesn’t fully recognize in most of the photos. Most of them seem to suggest DICE members, if the clown mask covering their faces are anything to go by. One white-haired man is circled in red, with a large and sloppy, as if angrily written, LIAR over it. 

His eyes roam lower, and he’s greeted with a shock. Small text, in the same handwriting as outside, forces his brain to run a mile a minute.

Detective Shuichi Saihara, it read, …trustworthy?  

And on the ledge underneath, surrounded by a couple of markers, are a pack of cards. Non-standard, if the navy blue look embedded on the pack was any indication. He opens it, expecting to find dark cards to match the box’s aesthetic, and pulls out the first one near the front of the deck. White. He flips it. Also white, purely plain, identical to the front. Widely untypical, but highly familiar. The detective thumbs at the glossy finish. Memories of a beautiful checkered backing hit him unbidden, and playful text laughing at his expense, yet cheering him on… Except for the most recent time, where it was leering, conniving, borderline threatening in a faux-pleasant tone-

Nope. Not the time. 

The detective laxes his grip. Ah. The card now has a permanent score in the middle. 

He brushes it aside- although he murmurs apologies into his head- and looks through the rest of the cards. Finally, he finds what he’s looking for in the form of a date written along the top. He picks through the cards which contained a similar look, and it was all consecutive, almost as if the cards served as a journal or diary of sorts. There’s a handful of cards left that appear blank. 

He’ll examine the rest later. Instead, he focuses his attention on the first card. It outlines, he skims, the third heist DICE carried out (and, he remembers, was when he was enlisted on the case officially). “Detective… new… told Ace not to be an idiot… no Kyouko…” His eyes dart to a passage that actually catches his eye. “This new Detective seems like a stick in the mud anyway, a complete anxious nerd type. But he did figure out our whole MO, so maybe he’s more interesting than I thought.” Shuichi flushes. It was true, but still, to be called out so blatantly…

Next entry. “He did get more interesting. I just had to get up-close and personal, y’know? He’s so convicted for a guy who could barely look me in the eye! That needs to be changed and fast. It’s cute,” And now he’s flushed for a whole other reason, “But that’s only because underneath is this really determined guy who wants to figure things out. And man, do I enjoy someone who plays the game.”

Next. “How often is he going to linger with the notes I leave him? I’m going to get caught this way! But he always reads it with this small smile, and I don’t know why, but it makes me stupidly happy. Yikes. Time to not dwell on THAT thought any longer.” 

Okay, now he’s sensing a pattern. The navy blue on the box, the name repeated in every entry… is this whole deck about him? 

No way. No way at all that’s it. 

But the evidence speaks for itself. He reads further, skimming, his name or a variation always sticking out, and he can’t help but finish every entry as it dials further and further into something that seems… adoring. Borderline affectionate. Shuichi honestly can’t believe it.

The last words of the final entry catches his attention. He recalls the date and his jaw tightens. A day before the latest heist. “Joker said he’ll be making the next heist ‘a celebration of hope’. It’s bound to be a whole ploy to get me closer to my beloved, from Queenie’s laughter and all. If anyone can make it happen though, it’d definitely be him. But I’m concerned. I’m a little worried there’ll be an explosion, knowing Joker. But I know he’s learned his lesson.” 

Hmm. 

He looks through the remaining blank cards, flipping them just to make sure he doesn’t miss anything. On a seemingly random card, 4th last, he finds familiar purple handwriting. 

It’s a lie!

Cold sweeps through his system. A lie? What was a lie? Where? He took everything at face-value, but there’s a lie? The detective frantically looks around, the shadows suddenly seeming oppressive and choking. Was it the whole deck, or something specific? A single card? A handful?

Was it the feelings he thought were there?

He steps back, the card mocking him. 

It’s a lie! It’s a lie! It’s a lie! rings through his head, hearing the voice that often accompanied it. And as it ricochets in his head, he hears faint murmurs permeating through the walls.

God, what was he thinking? He needs to get out of here. He can’t believe he just let himself come in here, spurred by a single letter.

The detective looks to the door, but no, can’t go through there. He peers through the window. Seems clear. Luckily chasing the Phantom Thief gave him some practice in endurance and balance, because this patio wasn’t going to scale itself. 

He jumps, roughly skidding down the slope before landing on his feet. Luckily the house wasn’t too tall. With adrenaline pumping through his veins, the detective slinks off into the night, wondering if this is how he feels after a heist.

[gust-jar-simulator]

Y'know, I wonder if Vio still qualifies as the lord of the Tower of Flames. Shadow impersonated him a bit, and he lived there awhile. I don't think the monsters all just vaporized after Ganon died, you know? They probably remember their prince's right hand man.

Prompt: Vio, Medusa by Kaia Jette

•🍇•

“Hold,” Four ordered with strange steel, flicking up a hand in reflexive command. “That’s the route to the Tower of Flames. We don't need to go that way.”

“We do if there’s monsters that way,” Legend corrected. “And look. Monsters.”

Two Hinox slouched at the foot of the trail, scratching their stomachs idly. They hadn't seen the Chain yet, but they would.

Four hissed through his teeth and pinched the bridge of his nose as the others agreed, sighing. “We’re hunting black blood, right? Not breaking bones for the sake of it?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“Then stay here. I’ll go say hello.”

“Say hello? Four-” Sky made a grab for him, but Four was quick and small and on a mission, marching off at an irritated clip.

Between them and the Hinox, though, Four’s body language shifted. A little more upright, a little more languid, the expectant stroll of someone who knew exactly where they were and what they wanted, hair flashing gold in the sun.

It was too far away to hear, but as the terrifying giants got to their feet they suddenly cowed, broad shoulders shrinking in and lone eyes darting away from the little man at their feet, who gestured at them and the mountain brusquely. One gripped its spear like a comfort item, and the other nodded fervently. Four considered them for a very long moment, before biting out something brief and turning on his heel, leaving the hinox to sag in relief behind him.

The strange nobility in his posture didn't quite fade as Four reached the group again, eyes sparking a venomous purple to rival Legend’s, and he flicked a dismissive hand at the situation in general. “Nothing new here, no monsters with black blood. Let’s move on.”

Hyrule blinked at him, head tilting curiously. “Are you… friends with them?”

“No.” It was a little too sharp, and he didn't check himself like he usually would, already making his way down another mountain path. “But I did kill their leader, and they know my face. Let’s move.”

[agonizedembrace]

oooo resisting the urge to play league ( yasuo ?? ) by still playing this tcg sim...

[wyrd-syster]

slice and serve my worries away (sugar, butter, flour)

The Rings of Power Fanfiction Pairing: Galadriel | Sauron Rating: M Word Count: 1k

READ ON AO3

Halbrand lived for Tevildough’s, had grown up surrounded by sugar and spice. He knew what it took to survive life in a bakery. And when he said that he’d never met anyone as ill-suited for it as Galadriel Noldor, he meant it. . . OR . .

Day 5 Drabble for Hellbrand & Ghouladriel Week!

Prompts: Spices / “A deal with the devil.”

[rafesangelita]

₊˚⊹♡ RAFE CAMERON PROMPTS + DRABBLES

below is a list of what i consider, for myself at least, drabbles and prompts that mostly you lovely readers sent in! any and all fics paired with my !readers can be found on their own masterlists. if you’re interested in all things rafe, feel free to click the [ ₊˚⊹♡ rafe] tag down in the tag section. there you will find all the works i’ve ever published with his character + discussion posts, thinking thots, moodboards, etc..

୨୧ rafe + gunplay ୨୧ rafe + size kink ୨୧ rafe + voyeurism ୨୧ rafe + choking kink ୨୧ rafe + lactation kink ୨୧ rafe + breeding kink ୨୧ bsf!rafe takes viagra ୨୧ frat!rafe + daddy kink ୨୧ rafe + corruption kink ୨୧ fourth of july with rafe ୨୧ rafe + degradation kink ୨୧ rafe + overstimulation kink ୨୧ rafe fingering you at a party ୨୧ rafe fucking insecure!reader ୨୧ toxic!rafe manhandling reader ୨୧ reader leaving rafe after he cheats ୨୧ exbf!rafe who calls you late at night ୨୧ rafe fingering you until you're crying ୨୧ sex dice (valentine's day celebration) ୨୧ softdom!rafe taking reader’s virginity ୨୧ rafe unwrapping reader like a present ୨୧ fwb!rafe and reader make up at a party ୨୧ covering rafe's mouth while you ride him ୨୧ dealer!rafe dragging reader out of a party ୨୧ bsf!rafe showing reader how neck kisses feel ୨୧ stepbro!rafe gooning to your instagram page ୨୧ toxic!reader finding out rafe went to a strip club ୨୧ rafe eating you out while forcing your legs open ୨୧ when you're so wet that rafe keeps slipping out.. ୨୧ riding rafe speechless for being on the naughty list ୨୧ rafe showing you just how much he loves you back ୨୧ cockwarming stepbro!rafe until he pounds into you ୨୧ frat!rafe sending nudes to reader while she's in class

[partyofwords]

Crash ~ *Dice Arisugawa*

Summary: Dice keeps losing and it’s starting to worry you, Perhaps you could lend him some help?

Pairing: Arisugawa Dice X G/N!Reader

Genre: Fluffy Drabble

Word Count: 491

Warning: N/A

Masterlist

“You lost again, didn’t you?” You asked, trying to keep the smile off of your face.

Dice gave a sheepish chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. “Maybe…”

Sighing, you shake your head. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Let me crash here for the night?”

You nodded, letting him in. However, before he could get any further than the foyer, you grabbed the back of his coat. “Not so fast. Before you make yourself at home, you need to bathe. You reek of alcohol and the streets. The bathroom is all yours. I’ll get you a spare change of clothes.”

Dice was about to whine but swallowed his protests seeing your sharp glare. “A-alright, okay. I’ll go.”

When he was in the bathroom cleaning up, you went into the back of your closet where you kept spare clothes for him. This wasn’t the first time he has come to your door, asking to spend the night. It’s not that you were upset he wasn’t there. You were actually glad he came here instead of sleeping outside. At least you could feed him and give him a warm place to rest. He was kind of like a stray that way.

But it was starting to weigh on you. You couldn’t keep doing this. You worried about him too much. There needed to be a better way to take care of him. And your mind wandered back to an idea you’ve been thinking about a lot lately. Maybe now it was time to put the plan into action.

As soon as Dice was out of the bathroom, he changed in your room while you set out some reheated food from your own dinner. He sat at the kitchen table, still drying his hair, and thanked you for the food. You gave a soft sigh before drying his hair for him as he ate.

“Dice, I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s dangerous.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m serious. I’ve been thinking about how when you lose, you lose big. And I don’t like the idea of you sleeping on the streets.”

“I haven’t in a while. Gentaro and Ramuda let me stay with them sometime and so does Rio on rare occasions.” He paused before adding quietly, “And so do you.”

Nodding, you ignored the heat in your cheeks. “I know. But I was thinking you need a permanent place to stay-”

“There is no way I’ll have enough money to afford a place.”

“Here.”

Dice froze. “H-h-here?”

You nodded again. “Yeah, right here. You don’t have to pay for anything. Just stay here when you need to. Consider this homebase where you can crash anytime.”

He was silent for a long time. You were afraid he was angry at you for thinking he couldn’t take care of himself. Maybe you shouldn’t have brought this up. Maybe-

“Okay.” He breathed with a soft chuckle. “I would love to crash here more often.”

[moonstruckme]

Hi! I hope you’re doing well! Your account has been such a comfort for me these past few months and I’m so grateful for you! I was wondering if I could request a poly!marauders drabble where one of them calls the reader a pet name but they’re still really new to the relationship so they don’t realize that he’s talking to them?

Thanks for requesting!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 598 words

You take quiet, giddy pleasure in the chaos of all four of you in the boys’ kitchen. It’s not the tiniest of kitchens, but small enough yet that you can’t move about without brushing or bumping various body parts into each other’s. Honestly, you wouldn’t want to. 

You find yourself deeply enamored by the sound of your knife hitting the cutting board in time with James’, by the way Remus touches your back to reach into the cabinet above your head and Sirius sneaks little bites of your unfinished dinner and slips you some too. Your voices overlap and intertwine, making requests or directions while you dice potatoes at a steady pace. 

“Would you call these finely chopped?” 

“Yeah, I’d say so.” 

“Give that a stir for me please, love.” 

“Where do you guys keep the spices?” 

“Jamie, I’d say that’s more than enough cheese.” 

“Spices are right in that cabinet above you. See? Yeah, there you go.” 

“If, in theory, I forgot to get paprika at the store, would cayenne be a decent substitute?” 

“Do we have chili powder?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Use that.” 

“Would you pass me the thyme, sweetheart?” 

“Sweetheart?” 

You turn only when the kitchen is silent. Remus is looking at you, kind eyes kindly prompting. He nods to just above you. 

“It’s in the spice cabinet there,” he says. “The dried thyme.” 

“Oh.” You blink, reaching for it. “Sorry, I didn’t think you were talking to me.” 

“That’s alright,” says Remus. He takes it from you, a bemused smile playing on the edges of his mouth. “Thank you.” 

“Why wouldn’t he be talking to you?” Sirius asks. 

“I don’t know.” You return to your potatoes, knife thunking against the wooden cutting board. “There are four of us in here, so.” 

Sirius makes a humming sound you know means trouble, and then his arms are needling underneath yours, winding around your middle. His voice is saccharine beside your ear. “Do you not think you have a sweet heart, my love?” 

You laugh. “Don’t,” you say, though you let some of your weight lean backwards into him. Sirius takes it happily. 

“You know you’re our sweetheart.” You may never get used to this, how Sirius can go from teasing to earnest in a second. You can’t always tell which is which, either. He seems to find something worth notice in the crook of your neck, resting his lips there in a long, funny kiss. “Don’t you?” 

You roll your eyes. James shoots you a grin. “I just thought,” you say, “that he might be talking to one of you.” 

Buried beneath your jaw, Sirius makes a noise of disapproval. 

“What?”

“You knew he could be talking to you too, though, right?” James prompts. 

You shrug, moving your eyes back to your work. “I guess.” 

“You guess?” Sirius sets his chin on your shoulder. 

“It just didn’t occur to me in the moment,” you admit. Your potato pieces are getting smaller and smaller. 

Remus laughs. “That won’t do, dove.” 

“See,” you point, smiling, “that one I know.” 

James laughs, too, bumping your hip. “I’d hope so! We’re going to need to start calling you things more often, get you used to it.” 

“I just wasn’t expecting it.” You’re shrinking in on yourself a tiny bit now. Sirius only holds you closer, cooing. 

“Start expecting it,” Remus advises you. 

“Let’s practice.” James raises his eyebrows at you pointedly. “Angel, would you pass me the salt?” 

You huff a laugh, grabbing it for him. “Sure.” 

“Such a quick study!” Sirius praises, mushing another kiss to your cheek. “That’s our girl.” 

[ram-bles]

HELLOOOO

I got a silly little ask, just a drabble from you would be fine 😁

Like- the reader (gender neutral) wasn't very open about their hobbies and such. One of their hobbies was like martial arts or smth (THIS IS VERY CRUCIAL ☝️☝️☝️)

Wellll, one day Jimmy (🤮) decided to try and touch the reader inappropriately and they just throw him over their shoulder saying something along the lines of "Do NOT touch me."

I KNOW IT'S CRINGE BUT PLEASEEEE, IT WOULD BE SO FUNNY 🙏🙏🙏🙏

I saw you're writing for only Curly and Daisuke, but if you wanna you can add other characters into the mix. It's all platonic, just a silly little ask cuz I wanna laugh 😁😁😁

[ Tulpar Crew & Reader ]

Oh I love this one. Also this reminded me to update my list thank u 4 unintentionally reminding me anon.,.,. ALSO DONT WORRY I DONT THINK IT'S CRINGE !

gender neutral reader, it gets silly later on i promise. not proof-read. wrote this really quick.

⚠️ tw: stalking, jimmy being a little too forward and close

The day was pretty much mundane, like always. Everyone was in their designated work stations, including you of course. Though, something felt off. It had been like this for the past week, and you hated it. You even blamed your lack of sleep for it. It seemed like there was something— someone, watching and following you when you were alone.

One time, you'd even woken up to the sound of your quarter's door closing. You stayed up all night, not wanting to inconvenience the other crew members for what you think might just be all in your head. Well, that is until psych evaluation day came and you opened up about this to Anya who so easily believed you, but seemed so uncomfortable with the topic. You decided not to pry out of respect. She offers her company when you need it.

That same night, Daisuke offered to host a game session to which everyone reluctantly agreed to.

Establishing good bonds between workers is key to an efficient working environment!

Anya, Swansea and Daisuke were sitting by the sofa, Curly dragged a chair just beside the game table, whilst you and Jimmy sat beside each other on the floor. The game involved four players and the crew decided that whoever loses first has to swap with whoever hasn't played yet for the next rounds. The game was getting heated, Daisuke and Anya, neck on neck. Unfortunately, not the only thing neck on neck. Everyone else was too focused on the game to even notice what Jimmy was doing. You can feel his breath against your skin. You eyed the others in hopes that they would see. Too busy. Annoyed and grossed out, you elbowed his ribs in warning, glaring at him. "Jimmy, don't touch me." He seems pissed, but that doesn't deter him from getting his entertainment. Jimmy presses on and you swear you felt your eyebrows twitch. The balls of this guy to even do this here.

Daisuke throws the dice, the three leans in in anticipation as they watch it slowly roll to a stop and—

CRASH!

Some game pieces flew in different directions, two table legs snapping from the force and Jimmy's weight. It was radio silent for a moment. The crew having different variations of shocked expressions. You had grabbed his arm and flipped his body onto the furniture.

"Fuckin' pervert. Are you deaf, or what? I said do NOT touch me."

Daisuke threw his hands up in the air and settled it on each side of his head, frustrated. "Oh, come on, man! I was so close to winni—!" His whining ceases when Swansea nudges him, instantly shutting up and processing what had just happened. It took a few blinks for him to register and he eventually bursts out laughing and pointing at Jimmy. It took everything from Swansea not to burst out laughing as well. Instead, he crosses his arms and huffs with a proud smile. 'Atta' kid.'

Anya on the other hand slips out a gasp, covering her mouth. Mostly out of shock, and no sympathy for the man whatsoever. When the other intern started laughing, she had to bite her lip and look away to suppress her own fit.

[ History of glenohumeral joint subluxation.

It happened way too fast for Jimmy to even process what just happened. He spits out something hard, probably a tooth. His shoulder slightly stings as well, probably dislocated. He'll get back at you some other time, he can't get back at you when everyone else is here and that pisses him off even more.

Curly had mixed feelings. But of course, he prioritizes his role and he has to mediate everything first and foremost. Rubbing his face, he sighs and stands up, putting his hands on his hips. He calls your name and you tilted your head to look up at him. "I have to discuss... this with you later on. Please drop by the cockpit, yeah?" You roll your eyes and nod, pouting. "Swansea, could we borrow your intern real quick?"

"Shift's over, go ahead."

He gives the eldest a nod. "Daisuke, please assist Anya. Help her bring Jimmy to medical."

"Youuuuu got it, Big C." He finger guns towards the captain then stands up to hover over the co-pilot. Curly could only give Daisuke an awkward smile at the nickname.

"Never call him that again."

"El Capitano." Daisuke helps Jimmy up, making sure he's pulling them up by the injured arm, making the man grit his teeth and groan in pain. Before the guy could even cuss at the intern, Swansea continued bickering.

"Do your damn job."

"Yessir. Swansir."

Anya and Daisuke finally went off the bring the poor injured co-pilot to treat him. And if you'd like to know, Anya taught Daisuke how to pull Jimmy's shoulder back to place. Yes, everyone heard him when it happened.

You helped Swansea clean up the mess by the lounge and in apology, offered to help repair the table the next day. He agrees and even offers Daisuke to assist you.

Curly had to lightly reprimand you for your actions, but you'd explained to him what happened. The best he could do for you for now is lie on the report.

Sustained through occupational accident.

Employee confirmed inebriated while working.

Property damage docked to Jimmy.]

[avocado-writing]

hi hi! these prompts are so sweet - could I please send you "did you eat today?" + logan? I feel like he was on his own for so long and probably ate like shit (so might be soft when he’s asked if he’s taking care of himself like this?) 💖 thank you so much! Your request drabbles are all so stunning!

it's been a long while since logan was this looked after.

after everything that happened in the mansion he just didn't think he was a person worth receiving any kind of care, especially self-care. no. a man like him deserved to be punished for what he did, and a bottle to his lips every night was his self-flagelation. the years of alcohol put his body through hell, and food? well. it's been a long time since he ate something which didn't come in a greasy wrapper or needed to be nuked in the microwave.

if he were a normal man, no metal in his bones or healing in his genes, he'd be outright dead. as it stands when wade turned up, mentally and physically, he wasn't in great shape.

that is until he met you.

"did you eat today?" is a question he became accustomed to from your sweet little mouth. a concerned friend of wade's met on a lazy afternoon in the apartment, all smiles and soft edges, brow near-permanently creased in worry as you'd asked him when he'd last had a meal (and the answer was usually too long ago to be satisfactory). then without missing a beat you'd get to work feeding him. stealing eggs from wade and al's kitchen to whip him up an omelette, fixing him a sandwich if needs be, once you made a whole damn pie and sat there watching him devour slice after slice.

in fact, it wasn't long before you just started inviting him over for dinner, and then dinner became dinner dates, and then, well. that became him moving in.

your cooking is exceptional. that isn't just him being kind to the person he's sweet on, it's true. he doesn't know how you can put the same slices of bread together he does yet somehow make them taste like they've come from heaven but you do, day after day. just another little miracle from your never-ending supply of them. even now he's still not certain if he's deserving of your attention, your effort, your time, but you won't hear any pushback from him about it. these things are feely given to him, just like your heart is.

he knows what you really mean when you say "have you eaten today?" you mean, "I love you". you mean, "you're a person who's worth caring about."

he wraps his arms around your waist as you stand at the stovetop stirring a homemade stew. the smell drifts upwards and makes his mouth water, spiced beef and fine-diced vegetables never seeming so good. you laugh as he buries his face in your neck.

"you eaten, baby?" you ask.

he hasn't. but he'll get there.

[dustofthedailylife]

"Hey, did you know...?"

Alhaitham x gn! Reader tags // brainrot, drabble, crack, fluff AN // inspired by a convo I had with my bf... I hate him /aff /silly

Alhaitham is the type of boyfriend to always infodump on you whenever something crosses his mind. He loves doing it! And he also loves your reactions to those random bits of trivia.

However - he is also the type of guy whose kind of humor is occasionally telling you fake "facts" that he made up on the spot with a straight face to see your reaction.

You were standing in the kitchen, preparing dinner with Alhaitham when he suddenly perked his head up and looked in your direction. You were plucking a couple of leaves off your herbs before throwing them into the pot that bubbled on the stove. "Did you know," Alhaitham begins in a matter-of-factly voice. "Oregano was once included in the periodic table of elements?" You pause for a moment, looking back at Alhaitham who had already gone back to dicing the bell peppers. "Wait... really?" You curiously lift an eyebrow. It was frankly hard to imagine a singular plant would be- "No." "Oh." He smirked smugly, walked over to the stove with the cutting board, and threw the diced vegetables into the cooking pot. "But... what's actually true is that coffee shortens your lifespan." That would be quite crazy if that was true... However now that you are thinking about it, maybe the caffeine was the reason for it? After all it can cause a racing heart if you consume too much of it. "Actually?" You asked, now hesitant. "No." "Hey! Don't mess with me!" You whined, poking his sides playfully. He turned around, catching your hands in his calloused ones before placing a kiss on your knuckles, that same smirk and the glint in his eyes still on full display. "But there is one thing in this world that can actually never be false." "Oh what now?!" You rolled your eyes and giggled. "I love you." Smooth. 'You're such an idiot' Was the last thing he heard before the kitchen towel was softly thrown in his face.

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

[eccentricallygothic]

This is spectacular give me 14 of them right now 🤤

devils roll the dice.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinkmas 2023

prompts | sex tape + medfet

pairing | hitman!robert pronge x innocent!reader

warnings | extremely dark, the darkest thing i've ever written (we've entered dead dove do not eat territory; please heed ALL warnings.) canon-level mature themes: kidnapping, torture films, murder. implications that reader will be killed. robert is cold and ruthless. innocent!virgin!reader. filming of illicit sex tape. reader is blindfolded and gagged. restraints. medfet elements: robert's little setup is giving vintage white tile exam room, exam table, stirrups, those gd black gloves, speculum use. clit focus (puff puff content incoming.) vibrator. multiple forced orgasms. squirting. overstimulation. mocking and degradation. robert puts a cig out on reader's leg. written in 3rd person idk.

word count | 1,485

an | i'm kind of sitting here like wtf, ,, what is this and how did it come out of me lol. a little nervous to post, but i trust you guys to make responsible decisions about the media you consume!!! i'll probably never write something this fucked up again but for whatever reason it was just flowing out of me tonight folks, please again i'm begging you go read the warnings, like a second time through wouldn't hurt lol, and i hope you enjoy!!

Bringing its bitter end to his lips, Robert used one hand to draw in a deep breath of his dwindling cigarette, the other lazily holding a black magic wand in its designated place. He was nearly an hour into the day's filming session, and his subject was reaching a level of exhaustion and misery that made her more annoying to play with than anything else. But knowing he needed to milk at least a little more footage out of her before putting her back under and calling it a day, the man kept at the task. He tried to remind himself that he should be enjoying himself; considering the kinds of commissions he generally had to choose from, this particular case was a treat. A pretty little virgin, as soft and pure as the early spring rain, with the most stunning body the criminal had ever had the privilege of defiling. He could spend another thirty minutes at his station, watching as all the life and dignity were drained out of his poor little victim like blood dripping to the cold tile floor.

Through the musty cloth rammed between her battered lips, the poor girl's cries were escalating as her tormentor swirled the curve of the wand's slick bulb over her burning clit. Robert knew what her worsening wails meant; with a callous grin, he pulled his cig from his mouth just in time to press its smoking end to the girl's inner thigh as she came. With the howl she let out, he was thankful for the buffer the gag provided. "Noisy little bitch," he laughed as her juices sprayed out against his gloved hands. "That's it, slut. Fucking take it."

Glancing at the camcorder sitting off to his side, Robert considered his options. As much satisfaction as he derived from seeing how many orgasms could be wrung out of the poor thing before her body knocked her out as an act of mercy, his sadistic tendencies were getting bored of the monotony. Tossing the used cigarette to the floor, the man slowed the wand to a stop. He rolled away slightly on his stool, tossing the condom that was wrapped over the toy's head into the large black trash bag sitting in the center of the large room's floor. This far into his career, Robert had his methods down to a science. There was a way to keep everything clean, everything untraceable.

It was the whole purpose of his "worksite"; it provided a secure, controlled environment for the entire job to take place in, from start to flatline finish. The "set" was by far his favorite portion of the space, and understandably so, as it's where his sick imagination got to run wild for hours, days on end. And his clients were just as enthusiastic about the vivid stage he had put together for their subjects to shine on. It was somewhat inspired by a vintage gynecology office. He had the classic off-white exam table, equipped with a daunting pair of metal stirrups that were always positioned just a little wider than what would be comfortable. A sturdy set of restraints were of course a must, and to make sure the camera picked up on every agonizing detail, he had installed an adjustable surgical light overhead that could be aimed and drawn in to illuminate any area or action he chose. He hadn't struggled to gather all the tools and instruments he could ever want, either. A few of his buyers were licensed professionals themselves, opening the door to acquiring inventory from the big-name brands in bulk.

The other corners of the room had their designated uses as well: one with a filthy mattress for the unconscious victims to waste away on as heavy drugs pumped through their systems, another with large plastic sheets covering the floor, walls, and ceiling where the poor souls were hosed down (inside and out) before a bullet to the temple inevitably ended their long days of suffering. But most of their waking hours were spent on that dreaded padded table, the very spot where Robert's most recent capture was using the few moments he spent away from his station desperately trying to regain control of her breathing.

He returned to his position swiftly after switching out his soiled pair of black gloves for fresh ones, not wanting to waste any of his or his client's time. The sight of the girl's abused sex was enough to make the man drool; it had been quite some time since he had seen such a marvelous-looking cunt, so glorious in its messy destruction. Knowing he should share the beautiful sight, he took the time to adjust the camera, zooming in from a full-body shot to focus solely on the spot between the victim's legs. With the humiliating inspection he was preparing to perform, he wanted to be sure his buyer got to see each drop of come the poor girl let out, every twitch and spasm he would pull from her helpless body.

"Now let's see here," the man breathed as he brought his gloved fingers up to gently spread out the ruined-looking pussy before him. Noticing the way his subject winced as her puffy folds were pried open, he couldn't help but laugh in dark delight. He drew his attention to her throbbing clit, noting how much it had grown in size from all those unwanted orgasms he had forced out of her. Its hood was completely retracted, leaving the poor bud exposed to the open air. In a moment of perverted curiosity, Robert pinched the hardened nub harshly between his fingers, earning the prettiest sob he had heard from the girl all day. He chuckled once more, rolling and pulling at the knot of flesh for a few more seconds of additional torture before finally moving his hands away.

"What do you think? Should we try for one more?" he mused mockingly as he grabbed a plastic speculum from one of the drawers built in beneath the table, unwrapping it and tossing its trash to the side before pausing to grin deviously over his victim. Glancing up at her head, he realized it was still covered with a black hood he had put on her at the beginning of the shoot. The buyer had requested for her to be blindfolded like this for a decent portion of the film, offering the explanation that she was "afraid of the dark," and that he wanted to see her in as much pain and fear as humanly possible. The hood had served its purpose for the day, but now, Robert wanted the poor girl to see each and every way he was going to be violating her body in real time. In one swift motion, he reached up and pulled the pocket of fabric away, exposing her stunning tear-stained face. "Hi sweetheart," he greeted viciously. Just as he was hoping, her cries worsened as she saw the dreaded tool in his hands. He had a certain liking for holding up the devices he was preparing to use to see his victim's reactions; after all, he got off on fear and dread just as much as his clients did.

"Time to open up this pretty little cunt and see what kind of damage we did," the man enthused as he forced the tip of the instrument into the girl's drenched opening. By now, she had been well stretched out and ruined by her captor's horrific methods. Grappling with his usual lack of restraint and self-control, Robert had barely made the drive back with the girl tied up in his trunk without pulling over and popping that perfect little cherry on his own time, without a single camera properly rolling.

Turning the speculum as it was fully inserted, the man took great pleasure in squeezing the handle to force the tool open, each tiny click that sounded only stretching the poor thing's aching walls out to a further, more painful degree. "There," he sighed in satisfaction as the last notch was reached. Pulling his hands away, he gave himself and the camera a few seconds to enjoy the view of the girl's milky insides, so worn and sore from the days of torture she'd endured.

"Alright. One more," he finally hummed, using his gloved fingers to collect some of the plentiful slick dripping from the speculum before dragging them up to find that adorable little button he loved bullying so much. Her fading sobs were revived in an instant, her throat growing hoarse from all the screaming she'd done. But as much as she cried, Robert was determined to get one final orgasm from her before putting her back under for the day. After spending so much time making that pretty pussy as puffy and sensitive as possible, he deserved to see it coming all stretched out painfully over his instrument of choice.

[gust-jar-simulator]

See, I told myself I was going to write 100 word drabbles. The problem is some of the prompts are really fun.

Prompt: Wild, I Wanna Be Your Slave by Måneskin

•🦁•

Wild doesn't change his armor as much as he probably could. The slate is full of options- masculine, feminine, Korok leaves and Zora gorgets. Perhaps even more strangely, apparently his blue shirt isn't a knight's uniform.

“It’s not like we’ve got an army now, anyway,” he offers as everyone sidles close to the cookpot. “Nobody recognizes the Champion’s tunic. Zel- Flora made it though, embroidery and everything.” He grins, taps the stylized white sword, all but preening for her as they make impressed noises.

“But you were a knight,” Wars cuts in, eyeing the slate. “Did you have actual armor, or Time’s pajamas?”

They all ignore Time’s laughing protest, and the way he jostles Wars in retaliation.

Wild makes a few cutting comments about the armor being worthless and tosses a pauldron Four’s way, who promptly makes an irate noise like a teakettle and starts manhandling it like a disappointed grandma, tsking at the bluing of the steel.

It’s easier than pulling out the fancy silks of the royal guard, and funnier, so he leaves that particular demon only half answered. His brain gets… strange, around Hyrule’s blue and red. Slippery. Cold. Unfamiliar.

Best not.