#Jockey for position

[brinkymoments]

“Oh, Brain, I get it! You’re a beautiful lawn ornament.”

[maladaptvs]

yes i am still thinking about mark drinking wine in key’s bed wearing key’s matching sweater and sweatpants WITH key’s shirt on underneath.

he’s so cuddly. he’s so affectionate. i can only imagine him showing up like “yes i’ll be raiding your closet now please. let me wear your clothes because i love you.”

[danthropologie]

I have something else to add in the Daniel vs Max debate, not only would Daniel be going in with the knowledge that Max is the indisputable number 1 driver, but we have evidence that Daniel has cooled down these days, all you have to do is look at how he acted with McLaren, he took team orders on the chin and stayed behind Norris when told. Why would he be any different with Red Bull?

Not only has he been humbled over the last few years but he has proven himself to be nothing but professional in his dealings with a team that didn’t do him the courtesy of doing the same. We have solid evidence that he has matured as a person and we know that he would be going in with certain expectations.

yeah i mean, you're right, absolutely. he's shown a huge amount of growth and professionalism throughout the hellscape that was the mclaren stint, but i DO think it's a bit of a different thing to be told to hold position in fucking p11 vs being told to hold position in p2 when you've gotten a taste of what it feels like to win again. not to say that he still couldn't or wouldn't, but i think it would definitely be a much bigger test of his growth and maturity to be sat next to max in red bull vs lando in mclaren

[areyoudoingthis]

people will make fun of tjlc for being a conspiracy and then turn around and do the same thing with their show and be 100% convinced that they're right actually and the difference is that the tjlcers were wrong

[wastedutil]

[reachartwork]

how to write fight scenes

many people have told me that Chum has good fight scenes. a small subset of those people have asked me on advice for how to write fight scenes. i am busy procrastinating, so i have distilled my general ethos on fight scenes into four important points. followed by a homework assignment.

Fight scenes take place on two axii - the physical and the intellectual. For the most interesting fight scenes, neither character should have a full inventory of the other's abilities, equipment, fighting style, etc. This gives you an opportunity to pull out surprises, but, more importantly, turns each fight into a jockeying of minds, as all characters involved have to puzzle out what's going on in real time. This is especially pertinent for settings with power systems. It feels more earned if the characters are trying to deduce the limitations and reach of the opponent's power rather than the opponent simply explaining it to them (like in Bleach. Don't do that). 1a. Have characters be incorrect in their assumptions sometimes, leading to them making mistakes that require them to correct their internal models of an opponent under extreme pressure. 1b. If you really have to have a character explain their powers to someone there should be a damn good reason for it. The best reason is "they are lying". The second best reason is "their power requires it for some reason".

Make sure your blows actually have weight. When characters are wailing at each other for paragraphs and paragraphs and nothing happens, it feels like watching rock 'em sock 'em robots. They beat each other up, and then the fight ends with a decisive blow. Not interesting! Each character has goals that will influence what their victory condition is, and each character has a physical body that takes damage over the course of a fight. If someone is punched in the gut and coughs up blood, that's an injury! It should have an impact on them not just for the fight but long term. Fights that go longer than "fist meets head, head meets floor" typically have a 'break-down' - each character getting sloppier and weaker as they bruise, batter, and break their opponent, until victory is achieved with the last person standing. this keeps things tense and interesting.

I like to actually plan out my fight scenes beat for beat and blow for blow, including a: the thought process of each character leading to that attempted action, b: what they are trying to do, and c: how it succeeds or fails. In fights with more than two people, I like to use graph paper (or an Excel spreadsheet with the rows turned into squares) to keep track of positions and facings over time.

Don't be afraid to give your characters limitations, because that means they can be discovered by the other character and preyed upon, which produces interesting ebbs and flows in the fight. A gunslinger is considerably less useful in a melee with their gun disarmed. A swordsman might not know how to box if their sword is destroyed. If they have powers, consider what they have to do to make them activate, if it exhausts them to use, how they can be turned off, if at all. Consider the practical applications. Example: In Chum, there are many individuals with pyrokinetic superpowers, and none of them have "think something on fire" superpowers. Small-time filler villain Aaron McKinley can ignite anything he's looking at, and suddenly the fight scenes begin constructing themselves, as Aaron's eyes and the direction of his gaze become an incredibly relevant factor.

if you have reached this far in this essay I am giving you homework. Go watch the hallway fight in Oldboy and then novelize it. Then, watch it again every week for the rest of your life, and you will become good at writing fight scenes.

as with all pieces of advice these are not hard and fast rules (except watching the oldboy hallway fight repeatedly) but general guidelines to be considered and then broken when it would produce an interesting outcome to do so.

okay have a good day. and go read chum.

[fleur-bbyy]

SINFUL SUMMER

it’s the first day of vacation and lucifer already can’t keep his eyes and hands off of you.

𓇼 lucifer x fem reader

𓇼 warnings: unprotected p in v sex, semi-public(?), creampie, reader wears a bikini, reader wears sunscreen for anti-aging purposes (pls wear your sunscreen!!!), sub reader, lil oral fixation if you squint real hard

𓇼 a/n: 1.6k words of my own fantasy. I was gonna post all the summer stuff together but i’m scared I won’t finish it all in time and was too excited for this one lol. also if it wasn’t clear, it’s one of those cabanas that’s covered on all sides and has curtains at the front, they’re in the jockey position lol, and it’s one of those lounge chairs where the back adjusts. (plz forgive me for not being that descriptive i was excited)

As the sun beams off his clothed back and his feet begin to burn from standing in the hot sand, Lucifer comes to a realization.

You are quite literally his worst nightmare.

Pretty in the face and so, so naive to any of his lustful advances. An innocent request for him to help you apply sunscreen to your back should be just that, innocent. It shouldn’t be so daunting or feel so inappropriate for a man as respected as he was. Scanning over your barely-clothed back as you rub the contents of the tube on your arms. His ruby eyes linger far too long on the dangerously thin fabric on your lower half. He wanted to tell you that your bikini left far too little to the imagination, but he shouldn’t have been imagining that anyway.

“You’re laying inside a covered cabana, you don’t need it.”

"Do you expect me to spend the whole day in here?" You turned to look at him, smiling as your hands began to run the spf over your collarbones. "Besides, the sun still reaches me. I don’t want my skin to be saggy and feel like leather when I’m older." Lucifer crosses his arms and mentally eye rolls: You’ve been hanging around Asmo too much. 

"Fine. Finish up everything else and then tell me what you need." You smile once more in victory and continue to cover your front with the lotion. Lucifer stands in the doorway, arms still crossed, a seemingly calm expression resting on his face. His eyes stayed transfixed on your body for the majority of the time, glancing over his shoulder once to see his brothers doing their own thing in the sea and snapping right back over to you as you bent over slightly to reach your legs. Your bikini bottoms riding up even further than before and exposing more of your skin. His eyes widening a bit more when he noticed the outline of your cunt peeking through the fabric, causing the air to feel a bit hotter and his swim trunks to tighten a little more around the crotch.

"Okay, need you now." you said, beginning to lie down on the chair and handing him the tube of sunscreen in the process, his fingers accidentally brushing yours as he grabbed it and he swears you let them linger on purpose. He stood over to the side of you and began to gather the lotion in his hand before you stopped him.

“Don’t be awkward. Sit over my legs.”

Lucifer paused after hearing you voice your request like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He lightly sighed and reluctantly moved to straddle your legs, his half chub barely a few centimeters away from your plump ass. Lucifer contemplated whether you knew what you were doing or not. You had to feel it; there’s no way you didn’t feel it prodding against your thigh as he began to smooth the lotion down your back. holding back a groan when you arched into his touch.

“How exactly does sitting like this help?”

“You’ll reach better. Besides, wouldn’t want you to throw your back out, old man.” You lightly laughed at your own joke and Lucifer rolled his eyes, hands moving to the center of your back. “You’re good at this, should be a masseur.”

He wasn’t able to respond, having to bite the inside of his cheek as you arched even more into him. Your ass dangerously close to his hardening cock. He paused to grab more sunscreen and was about to continue before you stopped him again.

“You missed a spot near my shoulders.”

He slowly leaned forward, relishing in the feeling of his clothed cock finally making contact with your ass but trying to avoid it at the same time. Using his legs to lightly hold himself above you and starting to cover the spot that he missed when he heard a soft moan escape from your lips and your hips push into him even more.

There’s no way you didn’t know what you were doing. There was absolutely no way you didn’t feel his hardened length pressed into you. His hands slowly dragged down your back, stopping at your waist and giving an experimental small roll of his hips into yours, feeling a glorious sensation when you moaned a bit louder. He continued to roll his hips against you, biting back small grunts and groans when you started to meet his thrusts with the roll of your own hips. One of Lucifer’s hands slowly traveling from your waist to the edge of your bikini bottoms, pulling them to the side and shivering at the sight of the strings of your arousal sticking to them. He slowed his hips to get a good look at your soaking cunt and ran his index finger up and down your slit.

“Do you want this?” He asked, fingers running over your sopping entrance and examining the way they shined with your essence. You frantically nodded your head, not trusting yourself to speak without getting too loud. “I need to hear you say it.”

You bit your bottom lip, trying to steady yourself before whispering out a quick "yes." You felt him shuffle behind you and shortly after felt his tip prodding at your entrance. rubbing himself up and down your slit to gather your wetness before he slowly began to sink in. inch by inch with shallow thrusts.

“Ohh fuck.. that’s it. You feel too good.” Your toes curled and pussy gushed at his words. Allowing him to sink even further into you

He was big. Barely half way inside, and you already felt so full of him. grasping at whatever you could and beginning to roll your hips into him once more, eliciting a sharp hiss from the man.

“Need you to open up for me.” His breath was hot on your neck as he leaned over to whisper in your ear.

“Can’t. You’re too big.”

“None of that. You can be good for me.” One of his hands positioned your hips up even more, giving him access to your neglected clit. “She can be good for me too.”

You moan when he begins circling your clit. Feeling your arousal drip down and lubricate his working finger. His thrusts starting to speed up and his free hand tracing up your spine to pull the string holding your bikini top together, giving him full access to your back. Everything coupled together gave your cunt to final push to open up completely. Moaning even louder when he finally pushes all the way in. Your whines and moans crescendoing to the point that Lucifer has to clamp a hand down over your mouth and pray that one of his brother’s didn’t hear anything.

“Naughty thing,” he began, sticking one of his slender fingers into your mouth and grinning when you immediately start to suck, “this is what you wanted the entire time, didn’t you? Wanted to rile me up and fuck you where anybody could walk in and see?”

Beads of sweat begin to gather on both of your faces from the summer’s heat and the intensity of the current activity. Some rolling down Lucifer’s face and landing in small droplets on your back that he lovingly wiped away after removing his fingers from your mouth.

“Are you going to be good and quiet for me?” You didn’t answer. Not trusting yourself to speak and worried you’d let out another loud whine instead.

“That just won’t do,” his thrusts slowed and he pulled his hand back from your aching clit, “answer me.”

“Yes. Yes I’ll be good. I promise.” You said through gritted teeth. Even with his agonizingly slow thrusts, the steady drag of his cock on your walls practically made you shiver. Feeling him hit every ridge as he pulled out and pushed back in.

“Then cum for me. Want to feel you.”

Before you could even try to start fucking yourself on him, he picked up the pace again. Going even faster and harder than before and causing your body to bounce up and down on the lounge chair. The grip on your left side becoming ironclad and his hand once again sneaking to rub expert circles on your clit. His heavy balls knocking his fingers every time he plunged into your heat.

Your orgasm comes soon after with a strangled moan. Burying your face in your hands to try and muffle yourself but to no avail. Lucifer also begins to gradually lose himself as he works you through your pleasure. The clenching and spasming of your cunt around him causes the fingers on your clit to fumble in rhythm and move sloppily. His grunts and groans gradually getting louder and his thrusts speeding up just a tad more before you finally feel that familiar warmth as he spills inside of you. Panting and biting his bottom lip to quiet himself.

The air in the cabana was still thick with sex as the two of you recovered. Finally looking over and noticing that the chair had moved at least a foot away from its original position and your tube of sunscreen had been leaking out onto the sand the entire time. Lucifer carefully pulled out of you and admired how his cum dripped from your pussy. Using two of his fingers to push any that had trickled out back into your spent hole before fixing your bottoms and tying your bikini top back to it’s original position. Finally adjusting himself and getting off of you after making sure you were alright.

“Are you going to stay here?” He asked, his voice quickly returning to its stern nature as he crossed his arms over his chest once again.

“Think so.” You turned your head to look over at him and propped yourself up on your arms, watching as he began to leave to check on the others. “Thank you, by the way.” He stopped in the entryway, glancing over at you with a grin and half-lidded eyes.

“The pleasure’s all mine.”

[imperator-titus]

Favorite Party Banter [Gale Edition]

[Astarion (Ascended)] [Halsin/Jaheira] [Gale] [Karlach] [Lae'zel] [Minsc] [Minthara] [Shadowheart] [Wyll]

I often miss party banter because of party comp (and sometimes just straight up can't hear??) so here's a collection of my favorite bants while going through dialogue files. I know the wiki has the banter (most? all?) but I added the file names and dev notes.

Either Gale is the main speaker/subject or I think his reaction is good shit.

Not in any particular order.

[PB_Laezel_Gale_ROM_Act2]

Gale: So, Lae’zel - have you ever been tempted to use psionics in your, erm, romantic endeavors? {Devnote: Curiosity winning out over awkwardness}

Lae’zel: Only once. Did you know, in low-gravity settings, githyanki can maintain aerial suspension for hours at a time? {Devnote: cheekily}

Gale: Fascinating - I think the archmage Tasha described a spell with similar effect. I really must look that up… {Devnote: latter part almost to self}

[PB_Gale_Astarion_ROM_Act3_Spawn]

Gale: If you’re feeling faint after your bout with Cazador, Astarion, I don’t mind donating some blood. {Devnote: Sincere/Genuinely trying to help}

Astarion: When you’re still full of that Netherese bile? I’ll pass, thank you.

Astarion: Besides, I have someone else to nibble on. And they are delicious.

[PB_Gale_Shadowheart_Morgue]

Gale: Look at this place. Such horrors defy descriptions…{Devnote: In very bleak/grim surroundings}

Shadowheart: Silence can be best. Give it a try sometime. {Devnote: A little cheeky, though they’re in a grim place}

[PB_Gale_Shadowheart_ROM_Act3_Selune]

Gale: I must tell you, Shadowheart, the bathing waters here leave much to be desired. {Devnote: a bit know it all}

Gale: The ablutions offered at the Temple of Beauty in Waterdeep are far superior. And they have the most excellent soaps. 

Shadowheart: Hmm. I was wondering why you always smelled like a wealthy dowager. {Devnote: teasing}

[PB_Wyll_Gale_ROM_Act2]

Gale: I’ve heard that in Baldur’s Gate, ‘wizard’ is also a term used for one who eschews their more, ahem, carnal desires. Is that true, Wyll? {Devnote: Fishing for info, a bit annoyed about what he’s heard.}

Wyll: Where are we going with this, Gale?

Gale: Oh, nowhere. I just think it a rather cruel misnomer. Not at all reflective of the glamour wizarding life affords. {Devnote: A bit sulky/sensitive about it}

[PB_Gale_Astarion_ROM_Act2]

Gale: I fear I've been rather hasty to judge you, Astarion. {Devnote: sincere/sympathetic}

Gale: One heartbreak was quite enough for me, but to experience it as many times as you have must change a person.

Astarion: Thank you, Gale. Let us both hope that broken hearts are a thing of the past.

[PB_Karlach_Gale_BlushingMermaid]

Karlach: Man, it's good to be home. First round on who?

Gale: She who thirsts buys drink the first. {Devnote: Like it's a well-known saying}

Karlach: You won't pin me down with a rhyme, wizard! {Devnote: jockeying with Gale}

Gale: She who declines gets the worst of the wines.

[PB_Laezel_Gale_ROM_Act3_001]

Lae'zel: Gale, I've heard you talking in your sleep. Your mate needs better rest for our journey.

Gale: And deprive them of the pleasure of hearing my nocturnal postulations? I'd never be so cruel.

Gale: The mind absorbs much while we believe ourselves dormant. To lie beside Gale of Waterdeep is positively educational.

[PB_Karlach_Gale_ROM_Act1]

Gale: Karlach... a hypothetical question for you.

Gale: If someone - not me, of course - detected a hint of romantic interest in them from another, unnamed individual, what might that someone do about it?

Karlach: Whoever it is, just talk to them, Gale. And leave out the hypotheticals.

Gale: Talking. Right. I'm good at that.

[brinkymoments]

“Now watch.”

[pygmi-cygni]

All better now - moon boys

summary: I just think Marc needs a back massage, okay? That would fix him.

Marc needs a back massage so badly.

I mean probably all of them do, but Marc feels it more than Steven or Jake. Moon magic or something, idk.

You'd beg him to schedule some kind of appointment. It pained you to watch him wince and stumble when his back twinged. Steven complained occasionally when it got really bad.

The circles under his eyes grew darker and darker and the wincing got more pained.

None of them could sleep. Marc tried to trick you, knowing you were keeping your eye out. But the third time you heard him roll over, you dragged him out of bed and onto the sofa.

Lay down, you sighed, rubbing your tired eyes. Marc fidgeted for a minute then relented, stubbornly avoiding your eyes.

Your hands were warm and soft as they prodded and felt around for knots. He shivered, pleasant goosebumps trailing under your fingers. The dark, warm flat was comforting, and he felt the tension ease just slightly.

The peace was broken when you dug your palm into his neck. Marc let out a high-pitched wheeze. His right leg shot out as rods of steel shot down his spine. You apologized hurriedly, soothing over the spot with a kiss.

You adjusted your position, deciding to straddle his lower back.

Marc relaxed again. The warm plushness of you sat heavy on his back, kind of like a weighted blanket.

Just relax, it'll feel good, promise.

You began around his neck, kneading and pulling with gentle firmness. Marc bit into the cushions to keep from groaning. Burning relief rolled in waves over him, reducing his bones to syrup. Even his headmates roused from sleep to exclaim at the feeling.

The density of his muscles made your forearms burn from the effort of de-knotting his back. You dug your elbow into a particularly rough spot and he shuddered. A muffled moan made you scratch his head affectionately.

See? Steven was right.

A broken "shut up" made you giggle.

Your wrists were numb by the time his shoulders felt anything close to normal. Breathing hard, you sat back and stretched your hands, letting him adjust for a moment.

Marc?

Nothing.

Leaning down, you brushed a strand of hair away from his ear and gently kissed his cheek. Marc, honey, you can go back to bed now.

A snuffling snore twinged your heartstrings. You didn't want to wake him, but the hard work you'd just done would be ruined if he slept like this. It took a few nudges but he eventually sat up, blearily mumbling complaints while you led him to the bed.

Marc slept on top of you, heavy and warm as a bear. You rubbed his back while he dozed, preening at the sound of his occasional groans.

He slept hard, waking groggily around noon. A plate of eggs and bacon was warming in the oven, said your sticky note on the fridge. You'd gone out for groceries.

Marc rolled his shoulders and moaned at the feeling of looseness. The overworked joints popped in relief. Jake exclaimed from the headspace, jockeying for an opportunity to feel the bliss.

Now you can sleep without waking me up with a migraine, eh, cabron? Took you long enough.

Marc relaxed back into the pillows. Maybe he could persuade you into giving him another one tonight. He hadn't felt this good since....a while.

Your knowing smile when you saw him flexing in the mirror made him scoff.

It's fine, he shrugged. Didn't help that much. You hummed and continued stirring the soup.

Steven was fronting that night. You could barely get through a few kneads before he was squirming and groaning. The intensity of your hands made him grip onto the couch for dear life, choking out swears around a clenched jaw.

Feel okay, Steven?

He whimpered a response and tried to calm down. You made it quicker than the night before and spent a little more time scratching round his ears, which calmed him plenty. Steven heard Marc's grumpy muttering from deep in the headspace.

I didn't get a head rub, he groused. Steven couldn't dream up a response - too distracted by you snuggling in next to him. He pulled you tight, burrowing into the junction of your neck.

You prodded around his back, pleased at the feeling of supple flesh instead of twisted knots.

Steven stayed curled around you for hours, but it was Jake who greeted you in the morning. You felt him pecking your cheek and initially assumed it was Steven, but when his coffee breath brushed over your cheek you opened your eyes in bewilderment.

Jake? Are you oka-

He crushed you into a hug, murmuring thank you into your neck. The open display of affection threw you for a loop, but you managed to return the hug around his brawny grip.

You raked your hands through his bedhead, trying to tame the rakish curls. His eyes fluttered and he nudged closer. Squirming to avoid being crushed in the all-consuming sofa, you moved to curl in his lap.

Jake drooped in your arms, humming contentedly as you stroked and kissed his hair. The stubble on his cheeks rasped pleasantly on your hands while you stroked his face.

Maybe next time you won't wait so long to get your shit fixed, huh?

Less talking, more scratching, bebita.

*vomits this in your lap and leaves*

@krakenkitty @ominoose @bulletgoth @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @justsomeonecalledemma

@iolaussharpe-24 @rosegnome @twwcs @heeheehoohoofictimr @steven-grants-world

@ael-xander @to-be-a-sunshine @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @silvernight-m @lonelyisamyw-0love 

@unear7hly @chaithetics @ominoose @purple-amaranthe @buckyssugarchick

[natti-ice]

I saw that you posted about sending in some smutty requests for cm 👀👀. Maybe you could do some headcanons on what they like in the bedroom/kinks?

Includes: Aaron Hotchner, Luke Alvez, Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, Penelope Garcia, Tara Lewis.

Warnings: 18+ mdni, NSFW Headcanons, multiple kinks, turn ons, favorite sex positions, all HCs are for female!reader.

If you don’t know a position, these are my sources for the names! Lesbian positions hetero positions

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

Male Characters:

— Aaron Hotchner:

⟡ Kinks: Dom/sub play, bondage (handcuffs, ropes, etc), blindfolds, impact play, orgasm control.

⟡ Turn ons: Aaron LOVES when you wear your hair up, seeing you in tight clothing, when you're being really clingy in public, long wet sloppy kisses, he loves when you tell him dirty jokes.

⟡ Favorite positions: Aaron is pretty open to any positions but he has his go tos, missionary (of course), cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, wheelbarrow, the seashell.

— Luke Alvez:

⟡ Kinks: mutual masturbation, role playing, ice play, face fucking, daddy kink.

⟡ Turn ons: he gets so turned on when you smell good (warm scents like vanilla and cinnamon are his favorite), playful competition, verbally teasing each other throughout the day, accidental touches, loves when you're overly flirty.

⟡ Favorite positions: doggy style, spooning, standing (any position where you both stand), the lazy man, table top.

— Spencer Reid:

⟡ Kinks: cuckolding, voyeurism, breeding, edging (both you and him), cock and ball torture. Bonus: lactation.

⟡ Turn ons: soft whispers of affection, sharing your deepest fantasies, intelligence, playing with his hair, stripteasing.

⟡ Favorite positions: 69, pretzel dip, leap frog, ballet dancer, the chairman.

— Derek Morgan:

⟡ Kinks: DADDY KINK, degradation, wax play, extreme dirty talk, public sex.

⟡ Turn ons: good hygiene is a big one for him, self confidence, not backing down from his advances, seeing you in/stealing his clothes, he's big into lingerie.

⟡ Favorite positions: flatiron, the pinball wizard, the upstanding citizen, the snake, the socket.

Female Characters:

— Emily Prentiss:

⟡ Kinks: role play, Dom/sub play, sadism, nipple play, spanking.

⟡ Turn ons: she likes her girls a little more feminine but not overly girly, jewelry, when your collar bone is exposed, humor, hearing your moans.

⟡ Favorite positions: tribbing, standing ovation, cowgirl, mountain climber, the rocket.

— Jennifer Jareau:

⟡ Kinks: erotic asphyxiation, discipline, role play, gagging, orgasm control.

⟡ Turn ons: soft kisses, seeing you in her favorite color, lacy panties, wet hair clinging to your skin, hearing your soft giggles.

⟡ Favorite positions: lazy girl's 69, the rockin rockette, the G whiz, the caboose, seated wheelbarrow.

— Penelope Garcia:

⟡ Kinks: BDSM, wax play, blindfolds, humiliation, exhibitionism.

⟡ Turn ons: being inexperienced, TEASING, bashfulness, slightly toned arms, smaller boobs.

⟡ Favorite positions: the kinky jockey, missionary, scissoring, cowboy, spork.

— Tara Lewis:

⟡ Kinks: age gaps, mommy kink, voyeurism, lactation, food play.

⟡ Turn ons: exposed midriffs, small booty shorts, witty sense of humor, she loves a good bush, soft facial features.

⟡ Favorite positions: doggy style, spooning, the face off, magic mountain, the valedictorian.

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

Tags: @scftierhee @eddies-puppet @mommymilkerfanclub

Join a tag list!

[thegoogoomuckkk]

dirty laundry pt. 2 -> the jjk characters & what turns them on -> hiromi higuruma, shiu kong, shoko ieiri, suguru geto, takuma ino

hiromi would be lying if he said he hates this. he wants to say that he’s uncomfortable, that he doesn’t want this, but when you’re tugging his tie loose & pulling him behind the door of his office, biting his lower lip. . .well, higuruma hates lying. so he’s completely honest when you ask, “don’t you want me to make you feel good?” bending down on pink knees, pulling at his buckle, taking his cock into your mouth, wide eyes staring up at him. & you're going to be the death of him one of these days, really. when his coworker knocks on the door & calls out his name, you take him down to the back of your throat & squeeze his balls. hand keeping your head down on his cock as he cums down your throat, whimpering at the persistent knocking.

coming as a shock to absolutely no one, shiu can’t imagine you being prettier than exactly how you are right now: head propped up on against the window, back caved in uncomfortably, tits shaking with every thrust, one leg thrown over his shoulder, the other laying on the jockey box, hair flying wildly around, sticking to your forehead. if he could take you like this every time, he would; grabby hands on your hips with long fingers brushing your waist, pulling back to his sticky pelvis over & over again, listening to you whine about how “big” it is, how it’s “too much,” how you’re “g’na cum, shiu.” sticking his fingers down your throat ‘cause you’re fogging up the glass & it’s just so damn hot in here.

it’s no secret that shoko likes to drink, but she’s come to find that she likes it even more when you drink. she can hold her alcohol, she can keep her hands to herself, she can control her hips when you’re sitting on her lap, but. . .someone lacks these abilities. when she’s got three fingers lazily pumping in & out of your tiny hole, & her thumb is spreading her spit around your tight asshole, contracting at her positively mean touch, & it’s all hazy & you don’t know where you are anymore, or who’s watching, just that shoko wants you to put on a show for whoever it is. she would like to see your pretty face, but she likes you even more with your head smashed into the pillows, ass up meeting her thrusts, drool spilling from your agape lips, head spinning with how good it feels—you can’t even form the words, what would even say? shoko always makes her pretty girl feel so good, you don’t need to say anything—whining as she pinches your clit, fingers spreading your little hole apart as it twitches from the aftershocks of your orgasm, telling her friends that “she always takes it so well for me, lets me fuck her however I want, such a good girl.”

suguru knew he wasn’t supposed to find his best friend’s girlfriend hot, he definitely wasn’t supposed to come up to you at the bar after satoru had left momentarily, & he most certainly wasn’t supposed to say yes when you asked him to join you that night. but, despite going against his better judgment so constantly, he cannot seem to regret it as he’s fucking your almost limp form, pushing down on the small of your back where he has your hands clasped, using them as leverage to spear you on his cock so you can cum on it for the nth time tonight, with no end in sight. he knows that he shouldn’t find the whole scene so mind-numbingly hot, but he can’t help it, not when you’re mewling for “m-more, deeper, suguru, please, need it,” & satoru’s sitting next to the bed, thrusting his cock into the air, hoping for any reprieve, any brief stimulation, begging & whining for you, but also for suguru.

ino never thought something as simple as you pulling his hair could undo him so completely. he was eating you out, starving as usual, & your fingers threaded through his dark locks & he’s moaning into your cunt, stopping his tongue & leaning into your hand, that familiar heat creeping up his neck. “you like that, don’t you?” you whisper, tugging a bit harder this time. his cheeks are burning for more than one reason, & he’s shoving his face into your slick pussy again, trying to get you to pull at his roots again & again. his favorite is when you grip the strands of his hair between your fingers when you’re cumming.

alone with my thoughts again. . .what filthy smut should I write this time *sigh* did you like it? -> here's my masterlist -> want something more? ask me for it

[sjofn-lofnsdottr]

I suspect there's a reason multiple people, independently, have told me Dusk frequently makes them think of the Mii theme.

2/24/24

What does your wol(oc)'s "thinking face" look like?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Paradigm Shift 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you get transferred to a new position but it's hardly a breath of fresh air. (plus!reader)

Characters: Loki, Bucky Barnes, this reader is known as Billie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

“So, I’m sending you over to logistics,” Mr. Odinson nearly knocks over your pen cup as he sits on the corner of your desk. He gargantuan figure makes you fear for the integrity of the furniture beneath him. “I trust you can keep things tidy there.” 

You want to ask why you but don’t dare. Thor can be pleasant enough. Personable, friendly even, but you’ve also heard how his voice turns to thunder when he’s angry. You’re not shy of the stories either. Wandering eyes and hands. You don’t think they’d ever find you but you’d rather steer clear of the risk. 

“Logistics?” You wonder. 

“Mm, yes, my brother and his new partner,” he waves his hand dismissively, “they’re in need of a desk jockey to mind their dates. When I tell you how many meetings I’ve shown up to and met only an empty table.” 

“Uh, yes, sir, that sounds... bad,” you eke out. 

“Mm, yes,” his eyes flick up and down, “as it were, Fandral said you did rather well on his little task force so you will go down and sort them out. I would warn you but it better you find out for yourself. Perhaps those two will not be so difficult for one such as yourself, eh?” 

He taps the tip of your nose and you blink in surprise. You’ve witnessed it before. A bit too touchy for HR’s liking but they don’t do anything about it. After all, if you make money, then who cares how you behave? 

“When do I... start?” You ask. 

“Now,” he shrugs, “suppose sooner is better.” 

“Now?” You can’t help the shock in your voice and he narrows his eyes, “yes, sir. Um...” 

“There are boxes in the copier room, pack up your things, they should be expecting you... I think,” he stands and scratches his beards, “who’s to say if they read the email.” 

You’re hardly feeling good about this. He hasn’t said one thing that’s made you confident in your reassignment. You prefer the familiar and after two years, this is finally comfortable. Of course you’re the sacrifice they’ve chosen. Now you have start all over again. 

You get up as Odinson leaves and you head off to the copy room. You find an empty paper back and return to your desk. You put your pen cup inside, your ergonomic keyboard and mouse, the next person can put in a request, and you empty your single drawer into the bottom. You put your bag and coat on top and bid a wordless goodbye to your cubicle. No one else even seems to notice as you pack up your laptop. 

Logistics. You’re not even sure where that would be. You stick to your little corner of the company and keep your head down. 

You look it up in the office directory. A whole floor down. You get on the elevator and bob impatiently as you descend. You step off and march toward your fate. You slow as you pass between the desks of clacking keys and the smell of stale coffee. No one looks very happy. Even if they gossip terribly upstairs, at least they’re lively. 

No one looks up as you stroll by. Right. Where exactly do you go. You’re not seeing a free desk. You near a door with a placard on it. Laufeyson, Odinson’s brother. You glance over to the next door. Barnes, a newly acquired consultant. Alright. 

You knock on the first door and wait. And wait. And wait. You tap a little harder and hear shuffling from within. You step back as the door opens with a harsh swing inward. 

“What do you--” The tall main with his oily black locks stops himself mid-sentence and tilts his head, “and who are you?” 

Your eyes round. Does he not know? Your brows arch and nearly meet in the middle. You frown. 

“Your brother--” 

“Secretary,” another voice grits like gravel from behind you. “Remember?” 

You turn as the blue-eyed man blows across a mug and tastes his coffee. His hair hangs around his square jaw, a thicker set than the other man. You glance between him and Mr. Laufeyson, “secretary? Well, not exactly, your brother sent me for clerical--” 

“Secretary,” Laufeyson insists, “very well. Suppose it will ease the burden of tracking those mindless check-ins,” he makes a sarcastic quotation with his fingers, “as you will. Send a ticket to IT, have them add you to my calendar.” 

The door closes as swiftly as it opened and you stagger back. You look over at the other man as he approaches the next office and rests his grip on the handle, “My partner, Loki Laufeyson; Bucky Barnes,” He motions to himself with his cup, “send that ticket in and add my name.” 

“Yes, sir, but er, wait, I--” 

He just as quickly dismisses you with the open and close of his door. You stand dumbly in the hall and look around. What a warm welcome. You look down toward the bullpen of desks and further down the hall. So, where are you supposed to work? 

You pace up and down the short hallway. You find a closet full of old mice and keyboards, and the breakroom with its worn-out coffee maker and humming fridge. You can’t exactly work in either.  

You sigh and return to the hall. You plunk yourself down between the doors of your new bosses and open your laptop to balance on the box. You sit on your jacket and keep your purse against your thigh as you sit on your feet. You open up the support portal and file the ticket; first task done. You have to wait for access until you can do anything else since neither of them seem to want to explain very much. 

You shake your head. Why on earth did you think it couldn’t get worse? It surely feels like a demotion to be sat on the carpet with cardboard for a desk.

You wonder why you? You suppose you’re not interesting enough for Mr. Odinson to keep around. Still, he doesn’t need to punish you for not being his type. 

Well, so long as you’re paid, you’ll just have to make it work. 

[cgunderwearstories]

The Underwear Volleyball Game

It was a blistering summer afternoon, the kind of day where the sun feels like it's throwing a tantrum, making everything and everyone melt. The local adult volleyball team, "Spiked Punch," had gathered for their weekly game at the park. The sand was so hot it felt like walking on a griddle, and everyone was already sweating through their clothes before the warm-up was even finished.

"Guys," Greg, the team captain, panted as he wiped the sweat off his forehead, "I don’t know about you, but I’m cooking alive here. What do you say we make this a little more…comfortable?"

The team looked at each other, eyebrows raised.

"I’m game," said Tony, who was known for his impulsive decisions. "But let’s keep it PG. How about… underwear only?"

A few chuckles rippled through the group, but as they all stood there, feeling the sun beat down on them, the idea started to sound better and better.

"Alright, let's do it," said Mitch, always the first to jump on board with any wild idea. "It’s not like we haven’t seen each other in worse."

Soon, a chorus of agreement followed, and the players began stripping down, leaving only their underwear.

Team "Boxer Brigade," as they now called themselves, consisted of:

Greg, the team captain, who sported a pair of red boxers with little white skulls on them. A tough guy on the court, but apparently a fan of quirky designs.

Tony, always the life of the party, had on bright yellow boxers with smiley faces all over them. They practically glowed in the sunlight, much like his personality.

Mitch, the wildcard, was wearing boxers with little superheroes on them. Every time he jumped, Spider-Man, Batman, and the Hulk seemed to battle it out in mid-air.

Dave, the quiet one of the group, was full of surprises. His boxers were a deep purple with neon green dinosaurs stomping across them. No one saw that coming.

Sam, the prankster, had on boxers covered in cartoon pizza slices, complete with gooey cheese and pepperoni. It wasn’t clear if he loved pizza that much, or just wanted to mess with everyone’s concentration.

Oliver, the team’s tallest player, sported boxers with little surfing penguins riding waves. The contrast of his tall, lanky frame with the tiny penguins was enough to make everyone giggle.

On the other side of the net was Team Tighties, who had an altogether different look:

Ryan, the co-captain, was rocking classic white tighty whities. But not just any tighty whities—his had the words “Captain Underpants” embroidered on the waistband. It was a power move, really.

Mark, the team's gym buff, was in Jockey white bikini briefs, which left very little to the imagination. He flexed unnecessarily often, making sure everyone knew exactly how much time he spent at the gym.

Jake, the strategist, had on what could only be described as “vintage” tighty whities. They were a bit faded, with a slightly stretched-out waistband. He claimed they were his lucky pair from college.

Brad, the jokester, wore white briefs with little hearts on them. "They’re from Valentine’s Day," he explained, but no one asked.

Steve, the guy who always seemed to have everything in order, wore white cotton panties with the days of the week on the back. Today was “Sunday” written in glittery black cursive.

Frank, the quiet but intense player, had on tighty whities with a single, tiny, embroidered teddy bear on the left side. No one dared to ask about the teddy bear.

As they got into position, the spectators gathered around couldn’t help but laugh, but the teams were undeterred.

Despite their new attire, the game began with a fierce serve from Ryan. The ball was flying back and forth across the net, and the sight of grown men diving in colorful boxers and tighty whities was a spectacle to behold. Every time Mitch jumped, his superheros battled it out in epic slow-motion. Oliver’s penguins seemed to surf along with him as he went for spikes. And Ryan’s tighty whities, emblazoned with “Captain Underpants,” gave him an almost heroic flair, or so he liked to think.

The sun was blazing down on the park, and the game had reached a whole new level of intensity. The teams, Boxer Brigade and Team Tighties, were locked in an epic battle, both on the court and—unbeknownst to one side—off of it.

What no one knew was that Tony, the mischievous trickster of the Boxer Brigade, had secretly brought along a volleyball with a strange, mystical marking on it. Tony had picked it up from an old, dusty shop he’d stumbled upon while on vacation in the middle of nowhere. The shopkeeper had warned him that the ball was "enchanted" and would “stir the passions of any who played with it.” Tony, never one to pass up on a good prank, figured that could only mean fun for the game. He didn’t believe in magic, but he did believe in chaos, and that was just as good.

As the match went on, the ball—glowing faintly in the scorching sunlight—moved between the teams with increasing speed and intensity. The heat, exhaustion, and the competitive spirit were all getting to Team Tighties. But something else was starting to take hold too: the curse.

It began subtly. Ryan, the co-captain of Team Tighties, missed a serve by just a hair. Mark, the gym buff, rolled his eyes and muttered something about how he could’ve done it better. Ryan shot him a glare, his tighty whities (emblazoned with “Captain Underpants”) seeming to tighten as his temper flared.

"You think you could do better?" Ryan snapped, his face flushing red as the heat, and something more sinister, started to boil over.

"Maybe if you spent more time practicing and less time strutting around in those kiddie undies, you wouldn’t miss!" Mark shot back, flexing his biceps for emphasis.

The rest of Team Tighties watched in stunned silence as their two most level-headed players began to bicker. But soon, the curse’s influence spread like wildfire.

Jake, the strategist with the slightly faded tighty-whities, stepped in to try and cool things down, but Brad, always the jokester, saw an opportunity. With a quick motion, Brad yanked on Jake’s waistband, giving him a classic wedgie that sent Jake stumbling forward.

"Hey, what the hell, man?!" Jake yelled, his hands clawing at his back to free his underwear from the deep wedgie. But before he could retaliate, Steve, ever the organized one, piped up with a sarcastic comment about how Jake probably had his lucky vintage undies on the wrong day of the week.

That was it. The curse had fully taken hold.

Chaos erupted on the court. Ryan and Mark, who had once been the pillars of the team, were now locked in a ridiculous fight, each one trying to pants the other. Mark’s grip was strong from his hours at the gym, and he managed to yank Ryan’s underpants down to his ankles. But before Ryan could respond, Mark found his own waistband in Ryan’s grasp, and in a swift motion, Mark’s bikini briefs were down around his knees.

Brad, meanwhile, had moved on from wedgies to full-on tearing. He grabbed the waistband of Steve’s "Sunday" panties and, with a mighty pull, ripped it clean in half. Steve, horrified at the destruction of his perfectly planned outfit, lunged at Brad and managed to get his hands on Brad’s heart-patterned briefs. A rip echoed across the court as Brad’s underwear met the same fate.

Jake, who had finally freed himself from his wedgie, saw Frank standing calmly on the side, seemingly unaffected. Frank, with his tiny embroidered teddy bear on his tighty whities, had always been the quiet one, the calm one. But the curse didn’t care. Jake rushed at Frank, ready to take him down in the same ridiculous manner that was sweeping across the team.

Frank, caught off guard, tried to dodge, but Jake was quick. He grabbed Frank’s waistband and gave it a solid yank. Frank’s tighty whities stretched, but instead of tearing, they snapped back with a resounding thwack that sent Frank stumbling forward. Jake wasn’t done. Fueled by the curse, he reached out and delivered a wedgie so fierce that Frank let out a yelp of surprise.

The scene on the court was one of absolute chaos. The once-proud Team Tighties was now a mess of torn underwear, bruised egos, and sand-covered bodies. The Boxer Brigade, standing on the other side of the net, watched with a mix of horror and amusement. They hadn’t expected the curse to take things this far.

“Uh… should we stop this?” Greg asked, glancing at Tony, who was still holding the cursed volleyball, now glowing slightly in his hands.

“I didn’t think it would actually work,” Tony admitted, looking genuinely concerned for the first time.

“Well, do something!” Mitch yelled, dodging a rogue piece of torn tighty whities that flew across the net.

Tony, unsure of what to do, quickly muttered, “Uh, I reverse the curse! Take it back! Whatever!” and threw the ball to the ground. The glowing ceased immediately.

As if a switch had been flipped, the members of Team Tighties suddenly stopped in their tracks, blinking as if waking from a dream. They looked around at the destruction—torn underwear hanging off in tatters, sand stuck to sweaty, naked bodies, and a few still mid-wedgie.

Ryan was the first to speak. “What the hell just happened?”

“I… I don’t know,” Mark said, looking down at his ruined tighty whities and then at the remains of Ryan’s. “But I’m pretty sure we just ripped each other’s underwear to shreds.”

There was a moment of silence as the reality of the situation set in. Then, as if on cue, everyone burst into laughter. The sight of each other, standing there in what little was left of their underwear, was too ridiculous to take seriously.

“Nice moves there, ‘Captain Underpants,’” Mark said, slapping Ryan on the back, causing him to stumble forward, tripping over his shredded tighty whities.

“Yeah, well, I don’t think your gym buddies would’ve fared any better,” Ryan shot back, laughing so hard he had to wipe tears from his eyes.

The rest of the team was in similar states of disarray, apologizing between fits of laughter. Steve, holding the remains of his Sunday briefs, shook his head with a grin. “Guess I’m gonna need a new pair for next week.”

Tony, still holding the now-normal volleyball, sheepishly approached the group. “Uh, guys? About that… I might have brought a cursed volleyball. Sorry about that.”

The looks he got were a mix of disbelief and amusement.

“Tony, you’re an idiot,” Jake said, still trying to pull the last of the sand out of his tattered briefs.

“Yeah, but we’re idiots too, for going along with it,” Brad added, giving Tony a playful shove.

In the end, the game was forgotten in favor of recovering their dignity—or what was left of it. They all promised to meet up again next week, but with one condition: normal volleyballs, normal clothes, and definitely no curses.

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#386

“I guess you’ll do.  I didn’t know what to expect when I contacted you.  As I told you, I’ve never been with a gay boy.  Your ad said that you offer a deep throat with no reciprocation.  Good, cause I ain’t touching you.  Your ad also said that you only blow eight inches or more.  Well I got nine.

“I just need a blowjob.  Neither my wife or my girlfriend give it to me whenever I need it.  I have to take them on a night out.  So much goddamned work for something I should have every single day.

“I work hard; I need relief.  So I hope you live up to what you are promising.  If not, I will make sure you do.  On your knees bitch.

“That’s right.  You know your fucking place is on your knees.  Take of your goddamned shirt.  Let me see your titties….  Ooh they are soft.  I like playing with titties when I’m getting blown.

“Here’s my pouch.  Big isn’t it?...  Don’t say anything.  Take a deep whiff.  Smell that?  I didn’t take a shower after playing 18 holes in the hot sun.  You won’t mind. 

“I can see you salivating.  Go on.  Reach up.  Pull down my jockeys….  Huge isn’t it?  And it’s soft.  Take it in your mouth bitch.  Let it grow down your throat.

“No, no.  Don’t touch it with your hands.  I don’t want a fucking handjob.  Only your mouth touches my dick.  Your hands need to be on my calves, so I know where they are at all times.  Don’t even think of playing with yourself bitch.  I hate the fact that I have to resort to using fags to get a throat that will accommodate me, the least you can do is not get pleasure out of it.

“Your mouth is too high.  Sit on your ass.  In fact, sit there.  Put your head against this brick wall.  Spread those legs wide.  Hands on my calves and open that cunt of a mouth wide. 

“Look up at me.  I want to see that hunger on your face give way to the realization that my cock is too big for your throat.  I have seen it in every bitch I have used.  All I am doing is letting it get hard.  Feel it?  There’s no place for it go other than down your throat.  Don’t fucking start gagging now.  We’ve only begun.  That throat hasn’t even begun to stretch. 

“Open it up.  Accommodate me.  This is what you are here for. 

“No. No. No.  No pulling off.  I’m in control of this blowjob, not you.  That throat of yours is my toy to use.  Breathing is a luxury for you, get it however you can.

“Oh fuck.  I’m almost hard.  I can feel your struggle on my cock.  I’m just standing here; I haven’t even begun to fuck your throat and I can feel it pulsate. 

“Look up at me….  Damn, I can see the terrified look in your eyes knowing that my hard on is stretching the hell out of your throat.  You know what I don’t see in your eyes?...  Tears.  So the lack of oxygen hasn’t hit you yet.  Don’t worry.  It will.

“I’m gonna fuck your mouth and one of two things is going to happen; you will either learn to breathe around me or pass out trying.  I’m gonna fuck your cunt mouth hard, and I don’t care what you opt to do.  I need to get my nut.  Normally I will fuck a throat for hours, but today expediency is needed.

“You ready?...  I don’t care if you’re not.  Keep your fucking hands on my calves.  My hands will hold your head in the exact position I need to maximize my pleasure to my dick.  I am not one who likes to give up control of a blowjob.  I slam fuck like this until I cum.  And that’s what I’m about to do, right down your throat.

“I haven’t cum in a few days, so it’s going to be massive.  I need to do this quick….  Keep those hands on my calves.  Just adapt!  If you want to help me to cum, stick your tongue out and try to lick my balls as they slap your chin….  Oh fuck, like that!

“Here it cums.  Here it fucking cums!  Right down your throat.  Ahhh!  Ahhhh!  Fuck yeah!...  Shit!...

“I dumped it straight to your belly.  You don’t even get the pleasure of knowing what it tastes like.  Too bad.  Maybe next time. 

“Here take a few gasps of air.  My dick ain’t coming out yet.  I need to take a piss.  And I have a toilet mouth wrapped around my cock.  Too bad, I’m losing my hard on; I would have pissed directly into your gut. 

“When I tell you, just start swallowing.  You will drink it all.  Let’s see if a gay boy can do what all those bitches promised but failed.  Swallow….  Ahh.  That feels good.  You might not get to savor my cum, but you will have the taste of my piss in your mouth for a while.

“Good boy.  I want the last drops on your face.  There you go.  You look like the whore you are.

“Well, you lived up to what you promised.  You could take my dick.  If you want to do this again, next weekend you can come over to my garage.  I have it set up for whatever crosses my mind.  I have a few stations I can install you in so I can use your mouth for hours.  And I mean hours.  I built most of the equipment there for women, but I can modify it for you.  The garage is soundproofed.  A bunch of my golfing buds rent out the house and we use it to bring bitches to use.  One will bring an occasional gay boy.  The detached garage is entirely for me and my sick mind.

“You want to come by and be used by my cock?...  Good.  Damn.  I just noticed that I didn’t work over your nips.  I won’t make that mistake the next time.  I’ll be in touch. 

“Nice place.  You are sitting in a piss puddle you should clean it up.  Slurp what you can, then clean it up.  Another round of golf is in order.”