#Mason: Asks

[arttsuka]

Perhaps Bill Cipher annoying Stanley or another member of the Pines family. (Or if you feel up to multiple, everyone e within the Pines family. Only if you want to though)

Have you ever seen that one handyman Bill au

[jordiemeow]

i love ur preacher’s daughter x dodge! thinking about them doing everything *but* actual sex cause it’s “not a sin” that way

warnings: smut, 18+, f!receiving oral, handjob, everything but fucking tbh, mentions of religious guilt, reader watches him touch himself, a little bit of manipulation...

notes: not proofread i’m nauseous and horny ab cowboys so here x

Dodge knew what he was getting into when he started dating you. That sweet girl that blushes and sputters when he suggests anything more than a kiss. Even a peck on the mouth had your cheeks hot to the touch and eyes averted at the start of your relationship.

But you're getting there. Or rather... he's getting there. Slowly but surely, you're growing more receptive to his subtle demands for more. You stop protesting when his tongue slips into your mouth, or his hand slides a little too far up your skirt. No more making excuses to go when your goodnight kiss in his truck gets a little too heated.

He takes it as his sign to push a little further. As far as your daddy knows, you're at Bible study with your friends. Not sitting with your knees planted on either side of Dodge, his tongue exploring the warm cavern of your mouth as his hands massage up and down the back of your thighs under your dress. There's a movie playing from his TV—Pride and Prejudice borrowed from his sister, because you dubbed the rest of the DVD sets under his bed 'too inappropriate.' Bless your poor little heart.

It's clearly long forgotten. The pair of you are more focused on swallowing each other's soft moans to care about the quartet playing behind you. And then, suddenly, you feel a finger glide over the front of your white underwear, and you jolt forward, forehead bumping against his.

"D-Dodge—"

He hardly flinches at the collision, smiling so innocently at you that you're almost convinced it never happened. "What?"

"You can't—" You take a moment to collect yourself. Swallow thickly. "Too much."

"Why?" His head tilts.

"Because it's a sin," you reply, as if he's stupid. "You can't touch me there. The... the good Lord's watchin'!"

"He watches everything else we do. Why's this any different?"

He has to swallow back a laugh when he watches the way your brows pinch together as you think that through. Logic is very hard to come by when his hand is still resting on the inside of your thigh.

"Well, it's almost—" You pause, lowering your voice to a hushed whisper, "—sex."

Dodge smiles. How cute.

"It's not sex, sweetheart," he says, mimicking your hushed tone. His other hand moves up to pet the back of your head as if to console you. "Don't count unless there's penetration."

You eye him warily. "What do you mean?"

"Well, what's the Bible say about it? No sex without intention to procreate 'n' all that bullshit?" He ignores your pout at the way you call the teachings bullshit. "Can't even be sex if my cock—"

"Dodge."

"What else am I supposed to call it?"

"Just don't say it at all!"

He sighs. Starts over again. "What I'm tryin' to say is that a little bit of touching ain't a sin. No penetration. Not even like our..." He pauses to search for the most appropriate word he can think of. "Parts... will be touchin'."

You frown a little, mulling that over in your head. Well, it makes sense to a certain extent. Besides, if touching in any capacity is a sin, you're already going straight to Hell for how many times he's had a calloused hand cupping your breast or squeezing your ass. It still just seems like a little much though...

"But the sin is lust, not the actual— oh—"

His fingers brush over you again, and the innocent smile from earlier isn't so innocent anymore when you meet his eyes. "Stop worryin' your pretty little head, darlin'. I promise you it's not a sin. Right hand up to God." Funny, considering his right hand is currently the one snuck under your dress and touching your clothed cunt.

You try again. "But Dodge—"

"But what?" He says, fingers dragging back and forth against you in a way that has your thighs pressing together instinctively. "You don't trust me?"

You shake your head. "No, no, I trust you."

He hums. "So, what, you don't want it? Is that it?"

The truth is, you do want it. He's hardly doing more than lazily rubbing you through your panties and there's already an unfamiliar stirring in your gut. Like the build-up of something that could be absolutely explosive. The Big Bang, your brain traitorously supplies. Now you feel even worse. You've never even tried to touch yourself before—considered it, sure, but any time your hand ended up toying with the inseam of your sleep shorts it was quick to retract. You've had to apologise to the picture of Mary overlooking your bed a few times for the almost-slips.

"... No," you lie, straight through your teeth.

But he laughs. He's no idiot. He can see the way your gaze is fixed on his forehead rather than his eyes. Can feel the way your thighs clench tighter with each drag of his fingers, your cunt pulsing a little too eagerly for someone who doesn't want this. "No?" He repeats mockingly. His mouth moves to hover right by your ear, and you shiver at the warm puff of air against it. "Then why are you so wet?"

"Well, that's... that's natural!" You insist weakly.

"Is it?" He muses. "You always walk around with your panties damper than a horse's back on a summer's day?"

You wither under the amused look he gives you. You know he's just being an ass now. But there's a glint in his eyes—not quite mischief, something a little darker than that. Something that makes any thoughts of the fiery depths turn to mush.

"... Promise it's not a sin?" You ask tentatively.

Dodge offers you the pinky of his other hand, and the one between your legs stills for just a moment. Your lip catches between your teeth, indenting the soft flesh as you weigh up the truth behind his words. Deep down, a part of you knows that he's just bullshitting you to get his way. You could be about to commit the most heinous sin imaginable and he wouldn't give two shits.

... But then his hand starts back up again, and before you know it, your pinky is looped through his.

It doesn't take long before your dress is hitched up and you're on your back, hair spilling over his pillow. Your panties are discarded somewhere on the floor, a leg hooked over his shoulder as his mouth laps at your sensitive parts. What started as kitten licks and gentle circles of his fingers quickly turned into something else.

Now you feel as if he's trying to devour you.

"S’that good, sweetheart? Feel nice?"

"Nggghh, yeah. Oh my goodness—"

There's been a few times where he's been tempted to slip a finger in. Ease you open, feel the way you tighten around his digits when you climax for the first time. But he'd said no penetration, and Dodge has a feeling you'd be on his ass about semantics. He'll work you up to that eventually, he's sure of it.

So he sticks to working you over with his mouth. Eagerly lapping up the sweet juices your cunt provides him with every time his thumb flicks over your clit just right, his other hand threaded through one of your own. Thumb reassuringly rubbing over the back of your knuckles despite the faster pace his other hand is taking.

And despite the fact his mouth is mostly occupied, he doesn’t stop talking you through it the entire time. "Just like that, angel. Keep makin’ those pretty sounds for me. Y’sound so sweet. Taste so sweet."

Or he tuts. "Keep your legs open. That’s it, uh huh. That’s my girl."

A groan this time. "Fuck, can’t believe I waited so long to do this. S’heavenly, baby."

Neither of you even notice the credits of the movie rolling. All you can hear is your own keening moans and the lewd sound of his tongue lapping at your pussy. The feeling is foreign, unfamiliar, but the peak of ecstasy you're approaching has you thinking life in eternal Hell might not be so bad if this is what you get to experience down there.

That thought is quickly cut off when your orgasm crashes over you. Sudden, overwhelming, your back arching up off the bed as your entire body jolts with pleasure. You swear you black out for a minute, and he takes great pleasure in the way your lashes flutter and your eyes roll back.

The greatest part of all is the cry you let out. "Yes, Dodge, God, yes, yes, yes!" It's blasphemous, the way you worship both him and the Lord in one breath.

He works you through it diligently. Not a drop goes to waste, and he's still moaning against you when your own whimpers die down. When he's fully sated and some of the trembling in your body has subsided, a firm kiss is placed against your inner thigh before he rises back up your body to tuck your hair behind your ear.

All you can manage is a dopey smile, and he grins crookedly. "Worth it?"

"I think so," you say breathlessly.

When you drop to your knees by your bed that night, Rosary beads threaded through your fingers and head bowed, you apologise profusely. But you haven't been smote down yet, maybe you'll be okay.

... Maybe.

It becomes a bit of a routine after that. Whether it's in his truck with your leg hitched up on the dashboard or when he has the house alone, Dodge just can't get enough of eating you out. And every time, you go back to pretending it never happened. You're still daddy's little angel.

There's a pleasant buzz running through your body as Dodge tugs your underwear back up for you, looking just as smug as ever. Dimpled smile, chin still slick with your wetness, as he eases your skirt back down for you. One would think it'd get less intense over time... but God, he has your toes curling and legs trembling each time his mouth descends on your cunt.

"Y'know," he starts, sitting up on his knees and giving your dishevelled state an approving once-over. "I think I might go a lil' insane if I don't get some attention of my own."

It's enough to give you pause. Fair enough—he's spent the last few weeks nestled between your folds and never once asked you to return the favour. But you've never touched a man like that before.

He catches your hesitation. Reaches out to thumb at your cheek, gaze softening a little. "Ain't gotta do nothing, sweetheart. But the blue balls are killin' me."

Blue balls. You almost roll your eyes. "So... what, then?" You ask, shifting to sit up as your fingers curling into the soft fabric in your lap.

He doesn't reply right away. Tilts his head, gauges your expression. "Can I show you? Won't take much. You ain't gotta touch me or nothin'."

Don't even have to touch him... you cast a cursory glance to his door, even though there's nobody home. Your lip is already bitten raw from stifling sounds all evening, but you're back to biting at it.

"Okay."

"Okay?" His eyes light up. He leans forward, a hand braced on your knee. "You sure?"

"Doesn't count if there's no penetration," you parrot the words he told you weeks ago. He smiles. "And... you said I don't have to do anything, right? Bit of watchin' can't hurt."

"Just lookin'," he affirms. For now, anyways.

His hand leaves your thigh to undo the buckle of his jeans, and your eyes follow the movement. There's a lump in your throat and you know you're going to be repenting for this one tonight. Maybe it's time to find some other church to confess at. Certainly not your father's, but you need to get this off your chest somewhere.

His jeans are pulled open, the tension easing off the bulge that seems to be straining there every time he gets his mouth on you. It doesn't take much for his cock to be freed, jeans and boxers down just enough to put him on display.

You swallow. You're definitely going to Hell.

You've seen pictures of them in passing. Dicks, cocks, penises. Whatever vile name the youth has come up with these days. The kind of pictures shared between a few girls at a sleepover, or a cock shown during a movie your father wouldn't approve of you watching. You've never been close enough to see one like this, though. Aching and leaking under the weight of your darkened eyes.

He takes note of your expression. The lust mixing with guilt.

"A little different in person, huh? No camera lenses?" He teases.

"Dodge, shut up. Just... just get on with it, please."

He rolls his eyes but obliges. Can't have you suddenly changing your mind because he gets a bit too cheeky. A firm hand wraps around him, and he begins to stroke himself. Slowly at first, watching the way your lips are parted and the breaths you take seem sharper. The quick rise and fall of your chest doesn't go unnoticed to him.

Feels real fuckin' good to be watched, though. Each jerk of his palm smears pre-cum down his throbbing length, the slick slide obscenely loud in the quiet of his bedroom. A low moan escapes him. Rough, completely unrestrained, so loud it almost makes you jump.

Your gaze snaps up to his face to watch the way his brow pinches with pleasure. You've never seen him like this—is this how you look when he's between your legs? The thought makes you flush. God. He's pretty like this, head tilted back and eyes half-lidded as he watches you absorb every second of his pleasure like it's your own. It's beautiful. It's wonderful. Breath-taking, staggering, perfect—

Sacrilege. Blasphemous. Impious.

You swallow thickly, but you can't take your eyes away.

"You, uh, sure you don't wanna get in on this?" He asks, his voice rough in a way you've never heard before. You find your thighs clenching again as you look back down to the filthy way he's started to fuck up into his fist.

"Dodge."

"What?" He asks innocently, a breathy note to his words. "I'll let you in, sweetheart. Just a little touch. Wouldn't have to do nothin'. Let me do all the heavy-liftin', eh?"

You shouldn't. You've done enough sinning for a lifetime over the last few weeks. Cried yourself to sleep a few times, too. And yet you go against every value that's been instilled with you for years to just touch.

A tentative little brush of your fingers against the underside. It's careful, hesitant and soft. His breath grows ragged. "That ain't so bad, is it?"

You shake your head. "And the... the white stuff. That's a good thing, right?"

"Real good," he laughs. He can feel himself tensing up; you aren't doing much to help, not physically, but with the pressure of his own hand and the way your eyes are on him... Lord, he won't be lasting much longer.

There's a pretty pink flush to his cheeks now. Eyelashes fluttering with each heavy breath, and the way his neck is exposed is giving you the strangest desire to lean in and kiss it. Bruise it, even. Your eyes avert guiltily, hand back in the safety of your lap.

"No, no, no. C'mon. Eyes on me."

"I can't, this is—"

"Please," he rasps. The hint of desperation catches you by surprise. "Want you to see it happen."

Heavenly father, please forgive me. Your eyes are on him again, watching the way his hips lift off the bed. It creaks with each movement, each glide of his hand down his cock. And that little flicker of scrupulosity in your eyes is what sends him over the edge.

"Fuck, yeah, I'm gonna— ah, ah, ah—" His cock pulses, white ropes coating his hand and the hem of his shirt. Face contorted in pleasure, eyes screwed shut as he makes a sound you've never heard from him before.

A whine.

You shuffle back a little—disgusted or intrigued by the sight of the cum spilling out of him, you aren't sure. But you're completely enraptured by the look on his face and the gasps that escape his parted lips. The only sound in the room for a few moments is his heavy breathing as he strokes lazily through the last of his orgasm, pleasure still buzzing faintly through him.

And when your eyes finally meet, you both laugh. Dodge's is hoarse. Yours is a little tentative. And then your sides are shaking and eyes twinkling. God, you can't believe that just happened.

"That's never happening again," you tell him. He grins, like he knows you're lying.

You are. You do it again. And again, until you're bold enough to be the one doing the stroking. It's only a matter of time before his little no penetration excuse goes out the window.

taglist: @gracelynnx @tacobacoyeet @blastzachilles @cha11engers @magicalmiserybore @newrochellechallenger2019 @coolgrl111 @artspats @peachyparkerr @stanart4clearskin @misswrldd @kaalxpsia @downtwngrl @s0ftcobra @strfallz @dazedandconfusedlvr @turnerrst @m4lodr4ma @artdonaldsonmalewife @challengersism @elsieblogs @artstennisracket

[graveseveryday]

Day 11

Im home from my vacation!! felt like this had to follow day 10 or else it wouldn’t make sense, A better drawing will be posted tomorrow, sorry to make u wait 😄

[cracklinhaze]

he uses her yapping like a white noise machine

[jaxie101]

the hunger games has been my roman empire since i read when it when i was 10 and here are all of my smaller empires bc this has always been my favourite series ever:

the tributes being treated to a life of luxury both as a “last meal” sort of thing and as a way to make them more vulnerable for the games. keeping them well fed before the games so the starvation hits harder

peeta repeatedly calling himself a mutt after katniss does :(

katniss’ ptsd

katniss being such an unreliable narrator

when cato realised he’s just as much of a toy as the rest of the kids

when gale says he should’ve volunteered in peeta’s place. NOT for peeta, not to save him the trauma, the injuries or his torture, and not to save katniss and to be there for her, PURELY bc he knew that getting hurt would get her attention.

GALE GETTING MAD AT KATNISS FOR KISSING SOMEONE TO STAY ALIVE. EVEN 10 YEAR OLD ME WAS LIKE ??

peeta’s “real or not real” and how easily katniss accepts it as his way of recovery

how perfect katniss’ character was. i was a little girl and i wanted to be exactly like her when i grew up. she wasn’t the cliche “doesn’t need anyone accepts this specific guy that will always save her” she saved peeta, and some times peeta saves her

probably the overdramatic english lit nerd in me but katniss’ hair going from intricate braids to messy ponytails

(tw sex assault) in the books katniss was terrified that peeta was going to be r&ped, for some reason that’s always stuck with me

what happened to finnick

how well written and realistic the books were. peeta loses his leg to the infection, katniss loses her hearing in one ear, finnick suffers from extreme ptsd and it shows in district 13, peeta not being an easy fix. he still suffers years later, but he slowly pieces himself back together. Johanna’s anger, people often don’t like the fact that ptsd DOES make you angry, haymitch’s backstory and effie’s growth.

the mutt’s have the dead kids eyes in the first games

[seraphinitegames]

F says that M was smiling all morning the day after they hooked up with the detective in the car? why 👀 what made that time different from all the others for them 👀

Things are getting more emotionally involved for M with the MC, though they don't recognise that just yet.

Sleeping with the MC isn't just becoming about the pleasure of sex, but something much deeper and bonding.

When M realises this, it's going to be an AWESOME scene to write, and I am shaking with excitement to write it when it comes, hehe! :D

Thank you so much for the ask! :)

[tsuutarr]

Could you make a yandere farmer?

(THIS CONCEPT...... YES!!! I immediately thought of a yandere!farmer that also so happens to be a cow/bull hybrid hehe there's just something about someone who seems so bright and cheerful and helpful but is actually yandere)

“Hey there, neighbor!”

The last thing you expected when you began moving into your new house in the countryside iss the bright greeting of your friendly bullboy neighbor, but you can’t say you’re displeased. You give him a response that makes his mouth stretch into a pretty smile.

“It’s great to meet ya! We don’t get many new folks ���round here.” He looks at the boxes by your feet curiously. “Can I help ya?”

You try to reject his offer, but his movements are quick and powerful. Before you know it, he’s helping you haul your heavy boxes into your home with ease. His help makes the move go by so much faster that it really, really makes you grateful.

When you try to offer him something to drink as thanks, he waves it off with a warm laugh. “Don’t mention it, cutie,” he says, “I’m always happy to help a neighbor in need.” For a brief moment, he looks contemplative, before he shakes his head. “Yer welcome to reach out whenever ya need me.”

With that, he waves goodbye to you, leaving you with happy feelings and unaware of the small cameras and mics he’s hidden in your home.

Since then, he keeps helping you, giving you eggs and produce from his farm. Whenever you’re in trouble, he’s there immediately, too. When your tires got punctured, when your lights went out, when your pipes clogged – he was there. You’re filled with so much gratitude that you don’t notice that none of your troubles are naturally occurring.

One day, while he’s helping you fix your stove, he says, “By the way, there’ve been reports of some wild animals running amok ‘round here.”

You gulp. Wild animals? What kind? Rabbit? Deer? Or… bears? Something worse?

“Don’t ya worry ‘bout a thing,” he continues, gently patting the stovetop once he’s done fixing it. “You’ve got my number and I’ve got a mean aim.” With a small smile, he makes a gun motion with his hand. “So don’t be scared to call me, okay?”

You nod, though you still feel a little terrified.

That very night, you’re awakened by loud noises outside of your house. Fear clutches your heart and you wonder if you locked your doors and windows, but are too scared to check. With trembling lips, you pull your blanket tighter over yourself, pressing yourself into your bed as you take a quick glance outside your bedside window. A black figure with glowing eyes and horns looks back at you, making you scream.

Before you know it, you’re wrapped in strong, warm arms as a kind voice rumbles in your ear. “It’ll be okay, sugar,” your kind farmer neighbor coos. “I’ve got ya.” 

Too caught up in the moment, you snuggle into him without questioning how he got into your house or how he was by your side so quickly. Nor do you recognize how eerily similar his horns look to the ones you saw on that black figure outside.

[adam-scott]

HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON 2025 | 2010

[theballadofharkness]

New The Studio ep can only mean one thing… writing my own version of today’s episode!! Be prepared for a new Maya x fem!reader coming this week including our girls from Mine to Manage!! Xo

[shivroy]

sorry i have been taking forever to draw anything im still doing succession pigs ill finish them soon 🐽

[cubbihue]

Who was Timmy's teacher at Pixie School? Was it Sanderson? I get the rivalry now.

His teacher was Fairy Mason! It's usually HP who teaches incoming Pixies, but Jorgen asked Fairy Mason to teach Timmy's class instead. Mainly because if anybody could help Timmy learn all the cultures and etiquette that comes with being a fairy, it'd be Fairy Mason.

He's one of the few fairies to be granted the honor of the "Fairy" title!! Wow!! Not even Jorgen has that honor!!!

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

[arttsuka]

Blubs and Durland wearing wedding tuxedos

Because they are... buddies.

No they're gay for each other

Actually they're getting married

Bonus:

[jordiemeow]

Letting dodge let off steam after a long day working at the diner (i feel like such a freak for requesting this but…🤭)

!!!!!! Hell yeah we r freaks in this together. him coming over to see u bc he's so tense after dealing w fuckers like ray all day.... raghhhh

warnings: general smut (p in v), brief mention of using a belt as a restraint, no reader orgasm (tsk tsk), jo thirsting over dodge for 1.5k words

Dodge is always a bit of a whiny baby after a bad shift. Funny, because to everyone else he seems to be so detached—but with you, he can be himself. Sometimes that's more of a curse than a blessing.

That's what you're expecting when his truck pulls up outside your house. Bouncing down the hall to greet him by the door, prepared to feign sympathy and bat your pretty lashes at him until he feels better. You've got the place to yourself tonight, thankfully. No parents. Ah, one look at his sullen face is enough to tell you he's had a rough day. But instead of the long rant you'd mentally prepared yourself for as soon as you caught a glimpse of his truck outside your window, he's kicking the door shut and backing you down the hall.

"Dodge, your shoes—" You start to protest, but he silences you with a kiss. Well, hard to argue when his tongue is already in your mouth and his big, firm hands are squeezing your hips. Thank god you're home alone.

“Doesn’t matter. Need you.”

He breaks free to shrug his jacket off his shoulders. It gets discarded onto the floor of your hallway, and his shirt is next to go as the pair of you stumble blindly through the threshold of your kitchen. He hardly gives you time to ogle the muscled expanse of his chest before his mouth is descending on yours again. There's no method to it, just intent. The intent to devour you, apparently.

Your back hits the marble counter behind you. You cry out at the sharp pain, but the sound is swallowed right into his mouth. He'll have you crying out for other reasons in the next few minutes, no doubt. A heartbeat later and his hands are beneath your own shirt. No time to be wasted, clearly, as he gropes your breasts and groans in satisfaction at the feeling of flesh beneath his palms. No bra? Oh, this is exactly what he needed.

"Perfect fuckin' tits," he mumbles, the words slurred into your mouth. He presses you harder into the surface; the pain is hardly a dull throb when you're so aroused.

"What's gotten into you?" You ask breathlessly as one of his hand snakes down beneath your waistband. Fingers find both your clit and a nipple simultaneously, and you jerk forward a little with a pitiful whine. Not that you can move much, mind you, when you're sandwiched between the kitchen counter and the hard planes of his body.

He rolls the sensitive bud between his fingers, relishing in the way your back arches towards him as your nipple hardens. "Just a bunch of assholes at the diner."

Awfully vague explanation. Why are men so bad at speaking about anything? You have to concentrate hard to get out a breathless follow-up question. "Yeah? What'd they do?"

"You gonna grill me or just let me fuck you?"

Oh, that really does it for you. You clench around nothing as his fingers tease your clit and nipple. You've never seen him like this, but you're far from complaining.

"Well, I just—" A finger slipping into you cuts you off with a gasp at the sudden intrusion.

"Rhetorical question. You're gonna let me fuck you."

All you can do is nod wordlessly as another finger slides in to work you open. He's back to swallowing up your pathetic little moans again, crooking his fingers against that sweet spot inside you that has your eyes rolling back.

"Wet enough," you hear him mutter to himself, half-spoken against your lips.

"Wha—?" His fingers withdraw and his hand leaves your shirt, and then you're being manhandled around. Panties and underwear yanked down to your knees, cheek pressed into the cold, smooth marble of the counter. He's too impatient to strip you properly.

You can hear the sound of his belt buckle being undone, followed by the unmistakeable zip of his jeans. "Not... not here, Dodge."

He scoffs behind you. Not here? You're home alone, for Christ's sake. And he's fucked you in places much worse than bent over your dad's kitchen counter.

"Don't make me use this," he warns, the cool metal of the buckle pressing against your lower back where your shirt has ridden up. He's joking, you think. Not that you'd be opposed to it in the first place—whether he means wrapped around your wrists or to redden one of your pretty little ass cheeks, you aren't sure. Both?

Another wordless nod. He can't tell whether that's consent for the belt to be used or you just agreeing that you'll stop your whining, but he's too impatient; you can play around another time. Right now he just needs his cock stuffed inside you and his exhausting shift to the back of his mind.

The belt clatters to the floor, and his jeans and boxers drop to his knees. Normally he eases himself into you—he's such a tease when he wants to be, making you beg for each inch and goading you with little comments of "you sure you can take it all?" But now, he presses into you with one snap of his hips.

It punches all of the air out of your lungs. You cry out beautifully at the sudden stretch, fingers curling around the edge of the counter.

"Oh— W-wait, need a second—"

"You can take it, baby." It's the exact opposite of what he normally tells you. You can't tell if he's comforting you or telling you that you will take it, either. He has the grace to give you a few seconds to adjust, but after that he's moving. Deep strokes that have little bitten off moans passing your lips.

"C'mon. Tell me you can take it," he instructs, one hand on your hip and the other in your hair to hold you in place as he ducks down to murmur in your ear. You can feel the pressure of his front against your back, the warmth over your rucked up shirt.

"I can— ngh— yeah, I can take it," you choke out.

That earns you a smack to the ass in approval as he straightens back up. "That's my girl."

He's decidedly not nice about it anymore. Focused entirely on taking out all his frustrations on you, slamming into you with the most obscene sounds imaginable as his skin slaps against yours. He's done with talking—no time for words when your cunt is squeezing him so perfectly.

One of your hands releases the edge of the counter and tries to make its way down beneath you to pay attention to your neglected clit. He catches your wrist, holding it in place before it can stray away from the surface.

"No. This is for me," he grunts. "You just lay there 'n' take it for me."

Well, that's a little mean. But... extremely hot. "O-okay, I can— ah— can do that."

The only way to describe it is him fucking you absolutely senseless. You're practically drooling onto the counter with each rough thrust, babbling senselessly about wanting to take it for him and make him feel better.

All you can hear through your haze is his balls slapping against your ass, the slick sound of him burying himself into your heat, your own desperate mewls and Dodge's grunts of effort. You have no doubt he'll make it up for you later with his head between your thighs after he's cooled off. Hopefully in your bed, and not making a mess of your dad's kitchen.

His other hand moves to push your shirt up a little further, calloused fingers skimming along your spine. A surprisingly gently touch considering the brutal pace he's set, tracing over the spot where you'd hit the benchtop too hard. You'd think it was an apology if it weren't for the little hum of satisfaction he gives.

His grip tightens around the wrist pressed into the hardened limestone, and the occasional stuttering of his hips signifies his oncoming climax. "Wanna cum inside. Can I?" His voice sounds rough, strained.

You just whimper in reply, fingers clenching fruitlessly into a fist. The way you rock back onto him should be an answer in itself, but it doesn't stop him from groaning—

"C'mon. Say it."

You aren't even sure you're capable of speaking right now, voice raw from crying out with each sharp thrust. "If it'll make you feel better," you manage.

"Feeling charitable, sweetheart?" He sounds amused, but the little smirk is wiped right off his face when you clench around him. Yeah, no, he's not lasting any longer at all.

A few more thrusts and he's burying himself to the hilt to spill into you with a ragged groan. "Ah, fuck, take it—" And you do. You take it all with a moan at the warmth filling your cunt, face still pressed into the marble.

The silence that follows is only broken by Dodge's pants of exertion as he comes down from his high. You can't bring yourself to ask him to move, either, even when your cheek is no doubt imprinted and your legs are trembling.

Eventually, though, in a rough voice: "Needed that."

You can't help but smile. "Yeah. I can tell."

You feel a little guilty for thinking it, but you hope he has bad days more often if that's what you get as soon as he's in the door. Maybe he'll let you cum next time, too.

[ragnarockz]

😌 Maya on an Important Business Call (that's been dragging out) to get funding for a movie but also fucking reader at the same time, trying to see if they'll fall apart before the call does 🙂‍↕️

The way I woke up at 1 am due to a thunderstorm shaking my mf house and then falling back asleep at 3 am and then waking back up at 6 am horndogged out of my mind THIS IS FINE, LC. THIS. IS. FINE.

Hello? Yes, this is Maya Mason here to get you W E T 🥵💧📱

"Hold on for a fucking second, let me put you on speaker..."

You hear Maya's nail tap her phone screen and then drop her phone down beside you on the bed. You sneak a glance at the screen and realize it's one of the top execs on the line. His picture is in a little circle with his number on the screen.

Is she fucking insane? You think to yourself as you push your face down into the mattress. You cannot let this guy know you're also technically on the phone call with them.

You know this is something she realized the second she answered her phone while her cock was deep inside of you. You thought she was being rude at first; half of the conversation filling the bedroom as she snapped her hips forward and got you face down into her bed. But then you quickly came to realize that this was something that got her off. She had to try and keep you silent while she fucked you and you, had to keep up your end of the deal as you gave her what she wanted AND had to keep yourself quiet.

It was no easy feat because she knew how loud you got and you knew how much she loved hearing you. Half of the time she goaded you into being louder; trying to see just how loud you could scream and beg for more. This was definitely one of those times and she was maybe even pushing you beyond your limits.

"Oh...mhm....no, yeah, I think you would have to re-schedule because if you don't, you're going to blow this whole fucking promotional event..."

Your brain tried to chug along and listen to her voice; that voice that was mean and rude and judgemental. That voice that made you instantly wet every time you heard it. Maya had caught on to that pretty fast and made sure she herself talked you through almost everything she did with you.

Maya wanted her voice to haunt you in your dreams and wake you up wet.

"Well, then you're fucking stupid if you decide to go with someone else! Who the fuck else is going to give you what you want for that stupid price you're offering? Are you kidding me? I wouldn't even drop that on...fuck, anything!"

You grabbed onto her silk sheets to keep yourself upright; not wanting to slouch too much forward as you had finally got the angle right. She was hitting upwards slightly; the tip of her cock hitting right into the spongy softness that was going to throw you over the edge. You wanted so bad to come for her and show her how good you were being while she was on an important business call.

You could throw a wrench in right now, you thought to yourself as you drag your face to its side. The phone call was still happening.

"...Mommy..."

You whispered just loud enough for her to hear and for her to instantly stop pounding into you. You bit your lip and wait for the punishment to come. Both ends of the phone call go silent.

"...Maya?...Are you still there?"

"Of course I'm still fucking here! Do you want me to send you that PDF or not?"

You let out an exhale in relief. Maybe he didn't hear what you had said or maybe, he was trying not to embarrass himself over hearing something that didn't belong in the conversation.

You wriggled your hips back, asking her with your body to keep going, to keep fucking. You suddenly felt the sharp nails of her left hand dig into your ass cheek as a silent warning to keep your mouth shut.

"Mommy?....Keep..going..."

Another whisper escapes your parted lips and onto the bed sheets once more. You make sure you were louder this time, a little more clearer. You feel her nails sink in deeper and without a doubt break your soft skin.

You moan in response, no longer caring about the man on the other end of the phone. He was the one who called and interrupted the two of you. He's the one who wasn't listening to Maya's suggestion about his shitty movie. She was the one who answered mid-fuck; her cock fully sheathed inside of you as she picked up that fucking phone mid thrust.

You were obviously the innocent party in all of this; as innocent as you could be as you moan and rock your hips back and try to fuck yourself.

Maya had a choice. Hang up and admit defeat or prove you wrong. She exhaled loudly and straightened up her spine. The grip on your body got harder, tighter. She was holding you still and taking back the control she had let slip away as her concentration dispersed to the phone call instead of focusing on you.

And god, did she want nothing more than to fuck you until you couldn't walk properly afterwards; stumbling around her mansion in the Hills.

She smirked and bent over to lay on top of your back; her mouth as close as she could get to your head so you could hear her speak in a deep, hushed tone.

"You want to keep playing these games with Mommy, you better give it your all then, Baby..."

You feel the pressure release on your spine as she pushes herself back up and away from you; straightening up and shifting herself around. You can feel her cock moving inside of you and not in the way that feels good. She's adjusting; she's trying to make you as uncomfortable as she can. Maya wants the asshole on the other end of the phone hooked on for every single second as she fucks you. She wants to see just how long he'll keep the phone call going before he hangs up and blames it on some technical error.

"Mommy wants to hear that sweet voice of yours...those sweet moans as I fuck this gorgeous pussy of yours...this pussy that belongs to me."

No whispers, no hushed tones. She's speaking as clear as she was with the guy on the phone and you let out a strangled moan almost instantaneously. You have no idea if the guy on the phone is still there or if he's hung up. You can't even see her phone anymore.

Not with the way she has you pushing your face so hard and so deep into her bed that all you see are the stars bursting from behind your eyelids as you feel the constant contractions you give her around her cock. You feel as you breach your growing arousal and the sensation of warmth filling you; surrounding her. The way your hot cum drips down your inner thighs.

You hear a faint crackle of something and then a laugh; her laugh. She's laughing as she ruts into you and makes you lose your balance, falling forward. A loud groan escapes your mouth and you hear the dial tone beep out as the call ends.

It's your cue to get louder, wilder. Hands trying to reach back to grab at her; any part of her. You want so badly to touch her but she won't let you.

Maya is in control; always in control.

She always gets the last word.

[cracklinhaze]

Dude thank you so much for portraying Dipper as the asshole (affectionate) he is. He’s a ball of anxiety and awkward social skills but he’s also five seconds away from slamming doors on people and swinging punches. My beautiful son stands on BUSINESS

fuck yeah, man. it's one of my favorite things about dipper (as you can probably tell).

he's got anxiety. he gets panic attacks. he's paranoid and sweaty and super awkward. AND he's absolutely done with everyone's shit all the time. it's that stan pines snark coming out in him.

i just adore when characters have contrasting personality traits like this -- it fleshes them out so well and creates really interesting duality.

here, friend, have some of my favorite shithead dipper faces:

go ahead, try his patience. it'll be fun.

[cod-dump]

What do you think about non-binary Bell (in 1981 no less) just confusing the absolute shit outta these middle aged American guys that have no idea what tf that means. (Park does, but she refuses to explain, she thinks it's funny)

Adler and Park quickly accepted it, Adler still not understanding but it's whatever. Bell can hold a gun, shoot it, and has a body count. They can do whatever they want as far as Adler is concerned.

Woods and Mason? They've been at the table with Bell for almost an hour questioning them. Sims chose to stay out of it and Lazar was only stroking the fire when it seemed Woods was going to walk away finally.

Woods was so close to flipping the table, it's probably what Lazar was wanting. Bell, bless them, was amused by this. They like Woods which is why he's still sitting there. Mason gave up already and was just sitting there, maybe hoping Woods will crack through.

"You a man?"

"No."

"So you're a woman."

"Also no."

"What's in your pants?"

"Rather forward, Mr. Woods, but I wouldn't expect any less from you."

Woods sputtered and Mason put his head down on the table, shaking a bit. Lazar was all but laughing like a hyena, Sims was just hunched over his desk shaking without a sound escaping him. Bell was having a good time.

"Mr. or Miss!?"

"I don't mind either."

Woods stood and stepped away from the table, Lazar stumbling away from him as it seemed he wanted to set his frustration on the loudest person in the room. Bell was smug, looking at Adler who was trying to not poke the fired up Woods with a laugh.