#a fugue state if you will

[citrusses]

It’s barely dawn, but Harry can’t sleep. It’s nothing new. He hasn’t slept well in months. It’s August. His bedroom in Grimmauld is too hot. Grimmauld is awful in every season, but summer is its worst. The bannisters groan when they expand in the heat. The portraits are poorly-preserved, and the paint runs down their canvasses and stains the walls and the floors. The house-elf heads, which Harry never got around to burying or vanishing or deciding what to do with, fester in the attic, making the whole house smell like rot. He gives up on sleeping and gets out of bed. He comes out of his bedroom and immediately freezes on the landing of the second floor, watching as the door to Sirius’ room opens, slow and creaky, and someone slighter than Sirius creeps out of it. Draco Malfoy looks up and stops when he makes eye contact with Harry.

The Roommates (3.6K, E), Harry/Draco, Draco/Sirius

When @geesenoises posted about how much Draco/Sirius would ruin Harry's life, it took over my brain and this is the result. Geese, you have worked us all into a frenzy and I for one am so grateful. Thank you ❤️

Featuring: angry masturbating, WOLFSTAR LIVES! (angstily), wasting perfectly good cigarettes, “and they were ROOMMATES!”, and rotting house-elf heads.

Thank you @nv-md and @mintawasalreadytaken for the excellent beta 🕯️

Read it on AO3

[gutsby]

Bigger in Texas

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel won’t fit.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Size kink (seriously, don’t read if you hate big dicks / disgusting descriptions) Penis and pussy pronouns. Virginity loss. Age gap. Praise kink. Daddy kink. Joel ‘hung like a fucking horse’ Miller is a soft dom and also a good teacher. Competence kink (?)

Note: Somebody made a fic challenge to use penis pronouns, and I can’t for the life of me remember who it was. If y’all find them please show them this and tell them I love their brain 🫠

Update: @sp00kymulderr you’re a legend for this. Dick pronouns are engrained in my brain, and I’m forever grateful.

Word count: 2.3k

This wasn’t the life Joel Miller had pictured for himself.

The dead coming back to roam the world and eradicate most of its population, for one. The cold. Finding his baby brother way out here in Wyoming with a wife and a child on the way. The looks he was getting these days. It’s not like he’d asked to get mixed up with a girl your age. It just happened. And since damn near every-fucking-thing that had “happened” to him since outbreak day fifteen years back had been bottom of the barrel, full-blown nightmare territory, the second he saw a good thing fumble across his path, he’d seized it—you.

You, who were young enough to be his daughter.

You, who’d never seen a man fully before meeting him.

You, who hadn’t squeezed so much as a finger in herself.

But much like his past, Joel Miller was a sordid and sick kind of man, and he had the cock to prove it: presently weeping precum at the site of your softest, tightest hole, smearing the pearly-white slick through your folds with a sound so sweet it was nauseating. Begging for entrance.

“Oughta have a boy your age pop your cherry, kid.”

It was simple.

“Ain’t right havin’ a man my age all in your guts.”

And true.

The head of his cock made another wet, sickening noise through your folds, and as though instigated by the sound, your eyes flitted to the source. You smiled.

“Probably. But I want you,” you answered. Soft.

Joel got harder, and he hadn’t thought that was possible. His gaze joined yours, and the sight nearly finished him.

Beneath him, your legs had spread wider, showcasing that perfectly glistening seam alongside the head of his cock. He looked huge. Or you looked small. Or perhaps it was both, and he was old, and he really shouldn’t be doing this at all, but then his hips stuttered a bit and his length pushed in. Joel hissed and seized the headboard.

It wouldn’t even go in. The tip just stretched the rim.

“Baby, fuck—” Joel whimpered.

“He’s so big.”

Three little words from your lips, and it almost did him in.

Again.

You wriggled your hips and flashed another happy grin.

“He wants in, daddy. I can feel him pulsin’ like I am.”

You volleyed a look up to Joel as if to say, ‘So that means we’re ready, right? Will you let me have him?’

And, strangled by guilt as he was, Joel couldn’t resist.

He let his big, bulbous, leaking head sink in the tiniest bit, and he let out a groan. Your walls were so tight. This was him, too—his tip was oversized, just like the rest of him—and when it notched in an inch, Joel could see the pain flash quick in your eyes. His hips moved to retreat.

But then your heels were lifting and digging in his ass, and though strained, your voice made it out, weakly:

“Don’t, daddy. I want him.”

Joel couldn’t dream of refusing.

And his vision blurred more at that word, him.

“I-I know. He wants you too, baby—”

Another quarter-inch.

“—so, so bad.”

“Daddy!”

Joel had to blink to try and wake from his daze. His tip was so warm, hugged so perfect and snug and wet, that he didn’t even realize that was all that fit. He was stuck.

You whimpered again.

“‘S’too big, daddy. Just make him go in.”

Your eyes rolled with indignation and overwhelming pleasure alike, and your hips squirmed again. This time, you tried to nudge him in deeper, but your body simply wouldn’t budge; you’d reached the widest part of him.

“Honey, it’s—”

“Hurtin’! I need you inside me.” you cried, impatient.

“Just takes a little time to get there, darlin’—”

“Well, get to it, then. A tip ain’t enough.”

Joel’s face flushed. He might’ve been forced to bite back a laugh under any other circumstances, but this was your virginity. His bed. Your naked bodies, together, tonight.

He wasn’t about to rush it now and fuck everything up.

“This tip’s about to paint your pretty insides white and make you wait til next week to try again if you keep it up.”

That made you go still.

You shook your head while Joel released the headboard from his grip and took your hip in it instead. He grunted.

“Sweet pea, you gotta see—” he resumed, voice low, “—it won’t feel good for you or me if I just…push right in.”

You sighed, feeling his hold tighten.

“Tongue and fingers only do so much. You gotta learn.”

You whined, digging your feet in deeper when his tip drew back to your entrance. Looking a bit squeamish.

“Be brave…and patient for me.”

From the look in your eyes, Joel could tell you probably hated him right now. That was just fine. He adjusted his hips to a more comfortable place, and then he pinched your hip bone. He nudged you back, and he let you wait.

Then, right when you opened your mouth, he sank in.

Joel thrusted with only his tip, the size of a small lime, and he fucked your hole gently. Back and forth. Shallow.

It did enough. You squeezed both his forearms.

“Oh, daddy.” Your bottom lip trembled as you said it.

With his free hand, Joel smoothed your hair back.

“Yeah, what is it, baby?” he murmured, dulcet as ever, “Thought you said the tip ain’t enough for you, sugar.”

His words came slow. His strokes were delivered quick, though tenderly. Your brain appeared to be in a fog, or a trance, as your chin dipped down toward your chest, and you watched him breach the first inch of you repeatedly.

“Curious little thing.” Joel couldn’t fight the chuckle now.

“He’s so…” you trailed off.

You squeezed his arms, and he squeezed your hip back. He let you watch him fuck you with only his tip, and when your head began to tilt back from the strain, he reached up with his other hand and held the back of your neck. He felt you clench at that, and you both groaned.

“So…big,” you finished, eyes glazed.

“I know.”

This went on for the longest time: Joel stretching the first precious inch of your pussy with the head of himself, you watching and breathing deeply, whimpering occasionally, and him holding at the nape of your neck like a softer touch might lose you to him forever. Was this teaching? When you clenched again, he reckoned it was.

“That’s it, honey. Watch her swallow me.”

“Stretches real pretty for the tip, doesn’t she?”

“Bet she can’t even fit another inch of this cock.”

Suddenly, your head was jerking up under his hold.

Eyes flaring with a hot, juvenile kind of anger: “I can!”

Joel clicked his tongue against the backs of his teeth and pretended not to hear. He also had to feign indifference when your walls tightened and all but choked his head and a wave of new pleasure surged up through his body.

“She can, Joel, I’m serious!”

Another two seconds of this and Joel sensed he might see tears. Though his gaze had trailed up to yours, and the look in his appeared stern, deep down, he was just as quick to want to cave. He just hid it better than you did.

“You think so, sweet pea?”

“I know so. I need it.”

“Need him?”

“Y-Yes.”

How sweet you seemed. How naive you must be.

Joel might’ve been mean, but he wasn’t cruel. He also liked teaching lessons as much as he enjoyed showing you the way, so in the next second, he obliged. He took the last shallow thrust of his tip and sank into your cunt.

As he filled you, you whined. It only took an inch or two.

“Da-a-ddy. Please.”

You must’ve been begging for lenience. Joel retreated.

Then, much to the man’s surprise, you kicked your feet. Not in relief but in protest, shaking your head up at him:

“Put him back. Please. D-Deeper.”

It was as though Joel’s brain had exited through the back of his head and all rational thought escaped him, for the moment. The only voice he heard was yours. It was pleading. And in between your legs, you were soaked.

So drenched to allow him another inch. Then another. Then another. Joel fucked in gently and felt a seismic wave of pleasure seize his limbs—and likely yours, as well. It was as though in two blinks, you’d forgotten the pain altogether. You were suffused with need instead, eyes wincing and lips curling and sounds leaving your throat like an animal in heat. Want him deeper, please.

Joel sawed back and forth with just those five or so inches and made you writhe underneath him. Felt you clamp down on his thick, slippery cock and heard the remnants of your shared arousal making sounds as your body accepted him. Stretching wider. Getting wetter. Bringing him closer to the edge with every breath.

“She’s doin’…so good f’me,” Joel told you, brainless.

His thumb drifted to your clit. He rubbed it gently. No sooner had he finished the first circle around that nub when your hips were stirring again—this time incensed.

“Daddy.”

“I know, baby. I know.”

Joel kissed the top of your head, thumb insistent. When his eyes met yours, he was surprised to find them wet this time. Tears pooling and streaking down to your temples while your body bounced gently beneath his thrusts. A whimper trembled out, and Joel slowed.

He could tell from that look you didn’t want him to stop, though. It just felt so good. So, instead of dropping his pace too much, Joel cupped your chin in one hand, and with the other, he kept thumbing at your clit. Humming.

“Poor thing’s never had something this big in ‘er, huh?”

You shook your head. Cried a little more.

Joel kissed the tears on one side, lips smiling as he did.

“I can tell, baby. But she’s taking it so well.”

“Y-Yeah?”

His hips sped up a little. The thrusts were still shallower than they normally would be, given your state, but they seemed to be working well enough. You winced again.

Joel kissed the other side of your face to take more tears.

“Uh-huh,” he answered, “Openin’ up real nice for daddy.”

It was like his words worked as well as his thumb on your clit. You whimpered again, lips parting a little wider now, and the sound that came out was as desperate and feverish and fuck-drunk as Joel had ever heard it.

“S-Say it again,” you pleaded.

“Say what?”

“That he’s…stretchin’ me open. Makin’ me his.”

The soft, slick resonance between your body and his seemed to amplify even more—you were getting wetter, and Joel’s thrusts all but shook the bed with their force.

His eyes darkened when he felt you tighten again.

“Yeah? You like hearin’ all the filthy fuckin’ things your daddy’s doing? The way he’s breakin’ you in for him?”

You nodded. Your throat constricted with a moan.

And, just when a fresh set of tears seemed to be close on the horizon, Joel lowered himself to you. He held you to his chest, hips working relentlessly, and he watched your face screw up in pleasure. A trace of pain surfaced again, but it was soothed with a kiss. Joel grinned against you.

Between your thighs, his cock was throbbing with a feeling just as big. He knew he couldn’t keep this up much longer. Hurting and aching and needing as you were, he had to make sure that you would cum first.

When his cock grazed a fleshy, sensitive patch inside your walls, he knew it wouldn’t take much. He went on:

“C’mon, sugar. Daddy’s split you open on his cock so nice, least you can do is cum for him. Can you do that?”

His nose brushed yours. His thrusts sped up. You nodded, quickly, and when he shifted in the bed with his thumb still on your clit and his lips and his stubble grazing your mouth with every push of himself, he felt it.

It was a small pulse, at first.

Joel thought you might be adjusting—clenching—again, when the lips that were trembling against his own parted more. Your arms wound around his neck, and suddenly the throb of your walls around his member got tighter and tighter and tighter. One more second and your cunt might’ve squeezed the hot, sticky seed right out of his body and flooded your insides with it, but then came release. The ‘o’ of your mouth let out a shriek, at last, and your body went soft around him, beneath him, whining in turn, ‘Daddy, daddy, please’ while the muscles once taut and unflinching gave him reprieve. Fluttering repeatedly.

Joel fucked you through it. He talked you through it.

He stroked your hair, and he held you tight. Called you his sweetheart, pretty thing, perfect girl, you’re doin’ so good f’me. Keep going. That’s right, cum all over daddy. He told you to take what you needed, and without another word, he felt just that. Your cunt spasmed around him, and you consumed every inch he gave and drank every drop of spend shooting out in thick spurts.

You fell boneless on the bed when all was said and done.

You looked happy, and that made Joel even happier.

He stroked your cheek, and you leaned into it, clearly drained while your gaze held his in a weak sort of look.

It was soft. Loving, even. It could’ve been romantic.

Then Joel’s hand slipped down to the nape of your neck again. Your muscles were limp, like all the rest of you, but somehow, he was able to hold you up. Tilt your chin a bit.

Make you peer down between your shaking legs, where his cock was still sheathed inside you—partly, anyway.

Your eyes widened. Joel grinned.

“You did great, baby. Ready for the other half of him?”

can y’all believe this image is what inspired this fic HA

it’s only Thursday i’m sorry 😔

[caccry]

On your left!!!

[hoofpeet]

La la la yippee

[backlogbooks]

you know the thing about The Menu (2022) is that so many people came out of it being like "haha eat the rich" and yeah, sure, but really the chef's issue wasn't with the rich people, I mean he hated them and wanted them dead yes, but his issue was that he had let the world of ambition take him so far from the joy of cooking that he once felt, from the art that he loved to make, because he let himself chase status and exclusivity, when really he could have been making his art for everyone, at a certain point he did not need to be cooking for rich people he could have found people who appreciated his food because they loved food, he could have leaned into the art he loved instead of the art he was expected to make with the set dressing he was expected to make it in, and that is a critique of capitalism, but it's not an "eat the rich" type critique, it's not just rich people who have had their relationship to art changed by capitalism, we all have in one way or another, think about the phrase "consuming content", we are consuming, not savoring, and what does it mean to be an artist when being an artist means being a content creator, being consumed, and what artistic principles can you really afford to have when you need to make money to live, but what principles will you forget to pick back up when you have the money, how far gone from yourself do you have to be to no longer be able to go back? What does it mean when you haven't cooked a burger for yourself, for your friends, for someone who loves a burger, because you're always, only cooking for those who can afford you? What do you cook for yourself? Do you savor it? What art do you make when no one's watching? Can you still make art when no one's watching?

but the other thing about The Menu (2022) is that they literally don't eat the rich people. Look at me. They do not eat the rich people they are all burned alive, guests and staff, and that's Different

[tradingjack]

From the firmament above, a blood-red eye looks down upon us.

[madaqueue]

gn!reader - 18+ MDNI (lots of hand-mouth fuckery)

some are born performers, made to be perceived, intrinsically commanding attention. everything about sukuna drew the spotlight, every pair of eyes landing on him another step he took higher in his ever-ascending ego.

so it came as no surprise that he adored when you watched him pleasure himself.

he knew his own body well, an intimate understanding of exactly where to touch, grab, pinch, bite. every place his fingertips grazed was purposeful, a slow, tantalizing path closer and closer and closer.

when the flesh of his palms opens to reveal sticky, drooling tongues, he guides them with ease along his skin, tracing the deep lines of his tattoos, following their paths down between his legs.

a gentle lick to the tip of his twitching cock.

lips wrapped around his heavy balls.

before you can believe it, saliva coats his skin, mixing with the precum rolling down his length, reflecting in the low light of his bedroom.

candlelight glimmers behind your eyes, traveling over the contours of his chest, unable to stray from his movements. he hadn’t even touched you, and yet you found yourself panting, skin burning hot.

his own gaze is locked on your face, the utter awe behind it. through a smirk, he lets out a low grunt - and you, you can’t help but whimper at the sound (just the reaction he was hoping for).

you don’t even need him to touch you anymore - you need to touch him.

against your better judgement, your arm extends towards him; it’s not even hesitant, you know what you need, it feels foolish to deny it when he’s right here, within arm’s reach-

but sukuna can’t let you interrupt the show. he immediately smacks you away with one of his free hands, silently scolding you, as if you should know better.

(and you do - but you just couldn’t help yourself. it’s not even your fault, not really - not when he looks so fucking ethereal, shadows dancing along the flexing muscles of his arms as they circle his cocks, abs tensing with each purposeful motion of the tongues writhing from his palms)

by now, there’s drool pooling along the corner of your own lips. sukuna is quick to point out just how ravished you already seem with a chuckle. “enjoying the show?” his low voice easily fills the space, as though he was the only thing you’ve ever heard, the only thing you’ll ever need to hear again.

your mouth is dry as you nod. within the kimono draped over your hips, you futilely attempt to adjust your position to quell the ache growing inside you, legs rubbing together as you shift along the comforter.

maroon eyes flit below your waist - perhaps the sign of your arousal was more visible under the dim light than you anticipated (or perhaps he can simply read the eagerness on your face).

he sighs through a sly grin. a free hand reaches to your place on the bed, before a sudden wetness licks up your inner thigh. you shudder in expectation as he purrs, “but what’s a show without its audience, after all?”

[bidonicart]

I assume this has been done like a hundred times already but I had to get it out of my system

(where else to find me)

[mewtillidae]

posting a kremy every single day until new episodes of OUAW are out DAY 64

[rabbitmotifs]

help

[jetblxck]

Pov: i just took you back to my place for some freaky deaky. we burst into the bedroom unable to control ourselves. as you start getting undressed you realize there are hundreds of pictures of gerard and frank from the american rock band my chemical romance all over the walls. you turn around and there standing is a life size cut out of gerard way, singer of said band with a silly hat on. you are confused, but intrigued and keep getting undressed.

[skitskatdacat63]

Happy birthday to my forty three shades of Fernando 🥳🎉

Let me know which is your fav variant!

Top from left to right: Matador, Nnadopoleon, Aston(obv), Boy King AU, Bond AU

Bottom from left to right: Ferrari, Post Retirement Vegas Magician Fernando, Renault

[maturiin]

dutch impression. audio from a cameo

[sapphic--kiwi]

i’m somewhat of an old man yaoi enjoyer myself 🤎💙

[kaytayto]

very late estimeric week contribution, but i had too much fun drawing hair. this was for reunion? i think? the vibe is them pining for each other and then finally confessing post EW. i need this in my life constantly thanks

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

Which Steven do you think would win in a chess match? Canon Steven or WD!Steven?