#doge brothers

[rejectingrepublicans]

Two billionaires stripping the most vulnerable among us of their safety nets.

[republicansaredomesticterrorists]

Republicans are always on the same page and their latest talking point is government waste and (false) claims of federal employees not working. There were no studies done on this. One day they just decided to wrongly victimize federal employees. Their propaganda machine is the slickest and best funded of any in history. After a few days of lambasting federal workers the public now believes federal employees aren’t working.

The truth is federal employees are overworked and underpaid just like everyone else in America. The reverse only being true for CEOs. This is the same thing that Republicans did to teachers in the late 90’s into the early 2000’s. That was so successful that even progressive liberals like most of you believe without a second thought. The goal then was to reduce costs and privatize to enrich oligarchs.

So what is the endgame for Republican oligarchs now. Same as it always is. Remove regulations, and even whole governmental agencies, so there is no oversight over businesses. Without government oversight capitalism runs amok and saves billions of dollars per year at the expense of the consumer, the workforce, and the environment. Some of the agencies will be privatized allowing the oligarchs to gorge themselves even further on your tax dollars.

The oligarchs are the puppeteers pulling the strings of their Republican pawns. They are the enemy and it’s as simple as that. It’s all about money and everything else is a smokescreen to distract the masses from seeing money and power being transferred to the 1%.

The culture wars are just a tool to divide us and cover their. Look and dagger theft. The racists, the religious fanatics, the homophobes, the militias, the misogynists, the MAGA cult, are all just pawns to divide, distract, and ultimately conquer the country and turn us into powerless, voiceless wage slaves. It was always about money and power and will always be. At some point we as a people will have to directly remove the oligarchs or else forever be their serfs.

[republikkkanorcs]

The D.O.G.E. Brothers.

[saysthenightingale]

if corvus corax came back as some raven warp creature i truly believe that one day vulkan will reappear as just like a giant fucking dragon. make him balerion the black dread from asoiaf

[beardedmrbean]

[remylion]

the sound of action potential

[uozlulu]

pros of messaging me: I will find you that classic panting some fanart is referencing

cons of messaging me: I send you things like this sometimes:

[cs-eg]

COSTCO ENEMY OF THE STATE..

[contentloadingandstuff]

A Little Relief - Mualani x Male!Warrior!Reader

A/N: The MO for this one was "write, don't think". Hope you enjoy! CW: Vanilla smut.

The recent Abyss crisis meant the People of the Springs needed to always be on guard. Mualani wasn’t very happy with this state of things, but the situation did have an undeniable advantage - she got to see you fight. 

In the heat of combat, you were a sight to behold - more impressive than each man she saw battling in her life. Each monster that approached you was served with a flurry of efficient, but brutal strikes from your claymore. Your muscles, drenched in sweat and blood, flexed smoothly under the weapon’s weight as you smashed it down. Despite this you were deceptively quick, able to doge the claws of a Rifthound before cleaving it in half with a primal warcry on your lips. It wasn’t uncommon for the beasts to freeze at the power of your voice, even if just for a moment. They feared you, as subtle as it was - their Abyss handlers had to force them to attack you. Even if they managed to land a hit, you would just grit your teeth, growling in anger as you retaliate.

After each fight she would see you at the tavern, downing whole cups of beer with your brothers in arms, roaring with laughter and comparing kills. But you weren’t just a brute, far from it. Mualani watched countless times as you helped the wounded and the elderly, fighting without hesitation to ensure their safety. You care for those around you, rarely letting any of the warriors under your command fall during battle, and when they did, you mourned with their families. You frequented any festivals there were and weren’t ever afraid to dance your heart out on stage. And you were good with kids, shamelessly going along with their games and making sure they were safe while at it. The sight of the little ones climbing on top of you was as heartwarming as it was… exciting. 

Mualani couldn’t tear her eyes off of you, off your scarred, powerful body. She couldn’t get enough of you telling her to stay back before charging into the fray, or wordlessly commanding your saurian with your eyes alone. You were a hunter, a warrior, a force of nature, a man. A man that poked the buttons in her brain, absorbing her attention and filled her body with a dull, restless tingle. You talked, you got along, you went out together, but her body needed you. Mualani wanted to feel your hands sink beneath the hem of her bottoms, she wanted you to wrap your big, warm hands around her boobs and pin her small hands to the bed as you fuck her dumb. 

She talked to you, but never told you about the heat pooling between her legs every time you spoke, groaned or placed your hand around her shoulders. Was it too early? She could only hope to alleviate the urge at night, moaning into the pillow and desperately thrusting her fingers into her wanting pussy in a pitiful attempt to simulate the feeling of a real cock inside her - your cock. Her mind wandered to your shirtless form, imagining the bulge forming in your pants before you would pull them down and nestle yourself inside her, using her as a relief for your masculine urges; the orgasm from grinding her wet slit disappointing.

One day she couldn’t take it anymore. When you rode off on your saurian for a regular shore patrol, she followed suit, catching you near a small sandy island.

“Hey…” she said, touching your stomach; the hard muscle wet with seawater. “How about a break?”

You shook your head, but before you could reply, Mualani looked up at you with a knowing smile and a blush on her face. Her hand went down, resting over the belt. Her finger tugged at the clip keeping it in place. “Need a hole, brave warrior~?”

Your lips crash against her, you having to lean down to reach her level. Mualani smiles against you, holding onto you with her hands on your shoulders. Her tongue is quickly overpowered by yours as your hands roam over her tanned body, as if checking her to see if it would suffice. 

Mualani doesn’t resist as she feels your hands pull her down by the waist. Her blue eyes stare at you, her lips curling into a smile as she unbuckles the belts and releases your dick from its confines. Her hand wraps around the shaft right away and she brings it to her face, giving your swollen head a long lick. The taste is hot, heavenly in her mouth as she sinks her head down, engulfing your length with her warm throat. 

Groaning, you watch as she bobs up and down, drooling over your dick as her tongue grinds against your frenulum, creating delicious friction that makes your knees tremble. She doesn’t bother to muffle the slurping, as she worships you. She hums to herself - such a strong man, and yet he trembles under her-

“Mngh-!” Her thoughts are interrupted as you shove your dick all the way inside her. Mualani gags around it and her hands latch onto your calves for support as you fuck yourself with her throat. Her drool mixed with precum leaks from her mouth and splatters onto the sand below with each powerful thrust. 

She feels you throb in her mouth. You pull her by the hair to look at you. There are tears in her eyes from your rough treatment, but her hand is working hard between her legs as she feels you reach your peak. “Mualani…” you moan weakly, speeding up as your body tenses up. With a groan of satisfaction, you sheathe your cock for the last time and unload inside her warm throat. Her eyes never leave your face as she audibly gulps down your essence, one hand gently massaging your sack to coax more out. 

After pulling your cock out with a pop!, Mualani stands up on shaky legs, leaning against you for support as she gets her breath back. 

“Uh, you have no idea how much I needed this, Y/N.” She chuckles, wiping her mouth with her forearm. Mualani catches your hand by the wrist and brings it to rest on her clothed breast.

“How about we finish things up here and go home for more~?”

Thanks for reading!

[ginevrapng]

𝐖𝐄'𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆!

(𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄)

pairing: george weasley x reader, ron weasley x reader

word count: 3.0k words

contents: swearing, a couple suggestive comments, reader wears a bikini at one point, chubby-coded reader, drinking, percy (he deserves a warning), reader not specified what hogwarts house they were in, no use of y/n, british idioms, phrases and slang words

a/n: this was originally a one-shot about george but as i kept writing i decided i wanted it to be a short series that also included ron and the possibility that the reader may up with him. this isn't a love triangle fic! there is no triangle!

summary: you're an honorary member of the weasley family and have been for years, you're one of ron's best friends and are very close. everyone thinks and teases you both that you're dating or have feelings for each other. this muddles up things as george feels guilty about his own feelings.

<< part two | masterlist (check out my poll for this chapter)

you became an honorary member of the weasley family when you were in your third year at hogwarts, after meeting ron and afterwards meeting his family. now you probably spend more time with the weasley's than you do your own family. when you attended hogwarts you spent the summer holidays with them. it's been years and you've formed a bond with all of them, you care about them and they care about you. little did you know george cares about you in a different way than the others do.

ginny and fred often tease you and ron asking about when your wedding will be, while you flip them off and ron tells them to "bloody fuck off." whenever you see bill he asks if ron has finally had the balls to ask you out and sometimes you even worry that molly may be planning the wedding, no matter how many times you both insist there is nothing going on between you two the weasley clan make it their goal to not listen.

"i don't know why you all bang on about us. i fancied hermione for years. we're not dating, she's not my girlfriend!" ron shouts while throwing something at fred as he easily doges it.

looking up from reading the new muggle book hermione let you borrow you say with a fake teasing scowl, "who's 'she', the cat's mother?" ron glares at you in warning to tell you to shut up causing you to laugh.

george plops himself next to you on the sofa and looks at the book you're reading. "why're you readin' in the middle of the day? you normally read at night." he asks while looking over to you, blocking your vision of the page with his head.

pushing his head away with one hand he grins. "because hermione's lending it to me. that means i only have like a week to finish it before she wants it back."

"hey!" hermione shoots you a look, causing you and george to chuckle.

the person who believes you and ron the least is george, he knows you're not a liar, you would never lie but he worries that ron wants to keep you secret and not treasure you the way you deserve to be treated. he worries that your feelings towards his younger brother are unrequited and he'll end up breaking your heart. he would never voice these feelings out loud but you're always on his mind. he does feel guilty because he knows that you likely are dating ron but that doesn't stop his heart skipping a beat every time you smile at him or his stomach fluttering with butterflies anytime you brush up against each other.

he tries his hardest not to stare at you but it's hard, especially when you decide to sit opposite him at the dinner table, it's torture. he steals glances at you when he thinks no one is looking, your cute chubby cheeks pressed against the palm of your hand while your elbow is resting on the table and you're looking entirely unimpressed with what percy said. sticking your tongue out at fred from across the table whenever he teases you for liking 'really weird food' and how you don't like 'normal' food. sneakily threatening ron when you think molly isn't looking, pretending to stab him in the eye with your fork.

the whole time he thought that no one notices how he feels about you, he should know better by now with fred around. you've seen how george looks at you too, when you want to admire him secretly but you find that he's already looking at you, causing you to quickly look away but you figure george would never look at you in any other way than his brothers annoying friend or like a younger annoying adopted sister, no matter how much you wished he'd see you as more.

sometimes you think you have a chance with him but those cases are rare and they're gone as quickly as they come.

one summer you all went down to the seaside, wanting to spend some time at the beach, while you all complained about how hot it was in the car and annoyed because not all of you could apparate yet, so you had to be boiled alive in the car. when you finally got to the beach you all changed as soon as possible, wanting to get cooler and strip off the extra layers you were all wearing.

normally you would have had some insecurity about wearing a bikini but in those recent years you'd became more comfortable in your body and you knew that none of the weasley's would judge you. and after you, ginny and hermione went shopping the week before to buy swimming costumes you were more than content with your recent purchase and happy to wear it. your costume was fairly simple, it was really cute. your stretch marks and soft stomach visible while wearing the bikini, you thought you looked rather pretty though.

you glanced up after getting changed to see harry gawking at ginny, you went up next to him and flicked his nose. "eyes up front solider." harry blushed and turned away from you both making you giggle.

you feel eyes on you and think it's likely one of the girls but looked to see george as he was marvelling you and for a second you swear he was looking up and down your body, focusing on your plush thighs. your body bursts out your chest but you worry that he isn't looking at you with fondness and instead the opposite, thinking you don't look good, that is until you saw his eyes and his dilated pupils and mouth slightly agape. if you were braver you would of said something similar to what you said to harry but alas you're not so you settle on. "georgie, are you okay?"

he snaps out of whatever he was thinking about and grins at you. "'course i am, shortcake." you have a craving for shortcake once and eat only shortcake for a 5 days and you are forever condemned to the nickname forever. at least it's better than ronniekins or weatherby you suppose. george walked up to you and for a second you thought he might just pull you closer to him and hug you, instead, it felt like a bucket of ice cold water was dumped on you as he ruffles you hair and goes to get a drink from the cooler. hopes crushed.

"you look nice," ron tells you picking up a couple drinks, going to hand one to you.

"gee, thanks ronald. i might just fall in love." you roll your eyes playfully. he presses the ice cold drink against your arm causing you to yelp. he runs off before you can do the same while you swear at him.

george watches the interaction and his heart hurts, he wants to joke like that with you, he wants you to tell him you love him. he looks away and tries to clear his head. he doesn't want you to think he isn't okay.

another time while you both were still attending hogwarts george asked you if you were going to hogsmeade that weekend and you declined saying you had to study. " 'shame, i'll miss you." you spent the whole week thinking about that. he will miss you, not we will. the day everyone goes to hogsmeade you can't concentrate in the library, you try to but you can't, you had a huge essay due the following day and you'd barely begun it. instead you're rethinking what george said over and over again. you decided to pack up your things early after only an hour of studying and head to hogsmeade to meet everyone.

you were unsure of where everyone would be so you search around to see if you can spot anyone. you spotted george in the three broomsticks opposite a girl you've never seen before. you were about to walk in to talk to them until you saw them holding hands as george places a kiss on her knuckle. you froze, i guess he didn't miss me that much. you turn back around and walk straight back into the castle hoping no one sees you, luckily they didn't and they're none the wiser as you pretend you've been studying all day and george never mentioned the girl. fake smile plastered on your face as you hear them talk about their day. hopes crushed.

this pattern has been going on for years now where you think maybe he might look at you the way you look at him, every time he proves you wrong. when you get too in your head you think about how attractive he is compared to you, how you could get lost in his deep chestnut eyes and his chiselled jaw. how you want to run your hand through his pretty red flaming hair and kiss the freckles on his broad shoulders that he has from playing years of quidditch. god you want to kiss him so bad.

now though you're getting ready for the night, there was a vote and the majority dictated a muggle club, so you're all getting ready and tonight you're going all out.

"you look beautiful." you hear ron say as you walk down the stairs with harry nodding in agreement getting an amused smirk from you. ron smiles at you and you get reminded about how sweet he truly is and about how much he's grown in the last few years, especially when you think back at the disaster of the yule ball when he was still hung up on hermione and treating padma patil like shit. maybe in another life you and ron would of been together.

"aw, thanks ronald. be careful though, i might think you do actually want to date me," you tease.

"piss off." he mumbles and you swear you see a light blush causing you to chuckle. you hook your arm around his and wait for the stragglers (i.e hermione who is still doing her hair.)

when you walked down those stairs george forgot how to breath. you looked absolutely stunning with your dress accentuating your curves, clinging to your body in all the right ways and your hair framing your face. george couldn't look away you. wide hips he wanted to grab and hold on to and thick thighs that he wanted to feel wrapped around him. your pretty eyes gazing at ron, pissing him off. george's mood switched up quickly after that, body tense and jaw clenched as he sees you chuckle at whatever ron stupidly said. his eyes hardened stare when he watches you hold onto his arm.

the whole night he doesn't take his eyes off you as you dance and drink and sing along to the muggle songs you recognise. everyone notices, you notice, ginny notices, hermione notices, even oblivious ron and harry notice it. george gets teased most of the night about it, especially by fred, who whenever comes over to get another drink after dancing with a group of girls calls him "loverboy" and an "idiot, jealous, fool."

he knows that you must know that he's watching you no matter how many drinks you've had you must be able to tell, and you do but you assume it's something like last time and you don't want him to do something like ruffle up your hair again, especially when you've spent so long doing it. you don't want to ask him and realise that he's judging your outfit or that he doesn't think you're pretty enough to stand and dance with the rest of you. you don't want to know what he's thinking this time. your hopes on his feelings towards you were crushed long ago after multiple events so you do you best to ignore him, knowing that eventually some gorgeous girl will get his attention, little do you know that you already have that.

so you dance the night away, ron spinning you in his arms while he complains that if you keep drinking at this rate he'll have to carry you home.

ron moves your hair to the side over on one shoulder so you can hear him better as he talks into your ear and pressing your soft frame against his. "s' you gonna tell me why george is looking at you like." he spins you around again.

"honestly, ' no idea. tryin' not to think about it. just want to dance with you."

"i can definitely do that." he grins as you carry on dancing and swaying together.

george didn't think he get more angry, that was until he saw ron brush your hair away from you and whisper in your ear. he thinks you're both incredibly too close together, he knows he has no right to be angry. he thinks there is something going on between you two but that doesn't mean it doesn't boil his blood to see you two all over each other.

"gonna go get us more drinks 'kay? you want the same?" ron gently takes his hands of your waist and asks you.

"yes please ronnie." you reply, slightly stumbling without ron behind you to balance you.

ron watching this, smirks. "i'll be right back. don't fall over 'right. after this one you'll be drinking water." you stick your tongue out in response causing ron's smirk to widen.

george watches ron make his way to the bar and he considers going up to talk to you, to compliment you, to spend time with you while everyone else is busy, you've barely spoken together all day. the decision is made for him and stopped as harry comes up to talk to him and he sees ginny and hermione make their way over towards you.

when he looks over to see you again you're dancing with the girls and singing to a song he's never heard of before, he wonders if ron's heard it, if you've showed it to him before. if you like it so much you're singing it at the top of your lungs, you must really like it, probably enough to show ron. george isn't listening to a word harry is saying but he can't stop the grin that appears on his face, watching you jump and dance and sing. 'if you wanna be my lover. you gotta get with my friends.' his grin disappear as he see's ron behind you with two drinks in hand finishing of the lyric with you, "make it last forever. friendship never ends." you wrap your arms around his neck after spotting him, slightly spilling both of the drinks and take your one.

the night ends a couple of hours later, you slightly sobered up, tipsy instead of drunk, with ron sticking to his guns and only letting you have water. near the end of the night you end up leaving the dance floor exhausted from the dancing and pulling ron with you knowing that the only reason he was still on the dance floor was because he didn't want to leave you on your own while you were drunk in case anything happened to you. leaning on his shoulder and softly singing the songs you know you cuddle up to him. he pulls you both back on the booth so you're comfier and wraps his arm around your waist.

you both sit in comfortable silence as you watch everyone, at the same time spotting harry trying to hopelessly flirt with a girl that looks like a carbon copy of ginny causing you to laugh. "i had no idea ginny had a twin." you joked making ron burst out laughing. you pull on his shirt to get his attention, "love you ron." kissing your forehead he tells you he loves you too.

weirdly enough harry ended up the drunkest out of all of you, normally the drunkest title gets handed to you or ginny. tonight the title was handed to harry with george and ron staying the most sober.

trying to stumble into the burrow as quietly as possible was a harder feat than you thought, fred chuckling at your attempt to try not to trip over anything. "fuck off." you tell him, louder than you probably should have but lacking volume control due to the alcohol.

you make your way up the stairs with the help from ron and begin to walk into ron's room. "what'cha doing? you stay in ginny's room remember." he stops you from moving any further.

"but i want cuddles ronnie!" you whine in your drunken state. harry hearing this laughs uncontrollably at the scene of you trying to slip out of ron's hold to get into his room.

"shut up harry." ron hisses trying to deal with his two of his drunk best friends. "bed. now. we'll cuddle tomorrow."

"promise." you hold out your pinky finger for him to take.

he takes your finger, "promise. get some sleep."

"mm, 'kay. night harry!" you quietly call behind ron say in a sing song voice before ron shushes you. "night ronald." both harry and ron wishes you goodnight and you turn to tiptoe into ginny's room.

that's when you see george still on the stairs, watching you. for the first time tonight you've looked at him and he realises that absolutely anything could happen yet if you'd look at him like you are now then everything would be okay. george clears his throat and goes to say goodnight. to say how beautiful you looked tonight. how he missed speaking to you all night. "night george. sleep well." you walk past him and kiss his cheek, he audibly gasped but you were too tired and tipsy to notice. you go into ginny's room and leave george standing on the stairs, taking in how soft your lips felt against him and how he could still smell the drink you always get. george holds his hand against where you kissed him and beams before entering his room.

[violaextract]

NOT ONLY CLASS SWAPPED SCYTHEBELTS, BUT ALL CLASS SWAPPED FATED??

you try to give a flower to your crush and your powers go haywire smh

hi so if you saw the og class swaps i did for the fated in like,, 2020 maybe,, uhhhhhhh no you didnt ( you can see the og ones behind them in the line up )

this time i chose sub classes for them!! and they are very silly, BELOW THE CUT IS MY THOUGHTS AND WHY I CHOSE THE SUBCLASSES I DID, IF YOU WANNA HEAR MY RANTING VVVV

sylnan is circle of shepherd, i felt that it suited him, especially with the idea that he could steal from people with the help of animals, also because he lived with the rats, so,, ykyk,, also the vines can be used to climb stuff because thats cool, i love the guardian spell too, basically you get downed and you can summon a spirit that will attack anything that gets near you, ( even if the spell doesnt attack teammates or non threats its a nice idea for braad to be the only one who can get near him when this happens, and possibly as the party grows together the others can also approach him ) also the vest design is meant to mimic a ribcage, i think i had an idea of why i did this but forgot,, it just looks cool. maybe something to do with his death or his emotions, whos to say

braad, arcane trickster, SURPRISING NO ONE, hes silly thief guy who maybe became a rouge to help their situation, but he was kinda just hiding it from his brother, until the pact thing happened and then after the pact is severed, hes a trickster instead of a bard. he needs to be able to do his silly illusions, also i like to think he just happens to doge stuff, like by sheer coincidence

velrisa, college of lore, i thought because she wouldnt be a cleric for weejas, she could be a sort of, storyteller if you will, spreading the word and fighting for her god with music, she still does stuff with undead and whatnot being raised by clerics, but she simply found another way to show that,( maybe she struggled with normal cleric magic also maybe she relates to mountain )

taxi, battle master fighter, it was this or champion, but i feel like it fit what with what we know about his parents, in this he was trained and whatnot, it was probs a gillion tidestrider thing where it was fucked and he throughout the fated travels learns to fight for himself and protect the people he cares about instead of listening to what people told him he should be fighting for. also maybe he could become some sort of champion because its taxi, i love him.

mountain, war domain, like with taxi i was inbetween war domain and death domain, i felt death domain because the death of his wife maybe threw him into that, but i felt that what with mountain being in a fighting ring and meeting his wife there, that war fit better, he is a crazy good fighter and healing also possibly learnt from Hilda and heightened after her death. hes still mountain though so alcholic cleric punch healing and shenanigans, dont think that just because hes a healer now hes devoid of everything that makes mountain, mountain. plus with taxi, maybe hes very involved with helping taxi find his fight, and with vel, she knows about cleric stuff despite not being one so ykyk

okay rant over, the read more thing didnt work so IM SORRY, i put too much thought into this BYEEE

[whereserpentswalk]

Was there a first time a human killed a dragon? What did they think? Was it bronze or copper that was the first human alchemy to break their scales after thousands of years of weapons shattering against armor? Their horses finally fast enough to charge and doge them, their armors finally thick enough to protect from their venom.

Did the first human to kill a dragon think they would die? Did they attack the creature out of spite only to see blood flow onto the head of their bronze axe? Or was it a plan, had they tested it before? Did the dragon laugh to see a human try to attack them? Or were they killed from behind, not even knowing what humanity was becoming for them? What was the first time a dragon feared a human, when did they first realize something so small was going to kill them?

Did the first dragon slayer even know? Did they know how many people they were freeing? Did they know that their people weren't always going to fear having their treasures stolen, fear having their crops burnt, fear being ruled over by something inhuman?

How long did it take for the dragons to know? They had lived long enough to see humanity grow from apes, and in what must have felt like moments to them, how did they react? When did they first see one of their brothers dead, and realize what killed it? How did they feel moving from castles to caves, as humans sent mercenaries, then legionaries, then knights, then musketeers? What was the last dragon to tyrannize humanity? Who was the last dragon to call himself king?

Who was the first human to ride a dragon? Did the first dragon to be ridden remember when humans were their slaves? Who was the first human to take the power of their oppressors for themself?

Who was the first human to kill an eldrich horror? What did they think? Was it the laser or the bullet that was the first human science to break their distorted bodies after thousands of years of weapons shattering against their paradox. Their planes finally fast enough to swoop and dodge them, their goggles finally thick enough for their visage not to drive them mad.

How many humans will be the first to tell their oppressor, "You are no longer the predator"...

[fayes-fics]

Il Ballo del Doge

Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU (threesome)

Summary: At the most exclusive event during Carnevale di Venezia, you find yourself sat between two irresistible, handsome brothers…

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, MMF threesome, no incest. Modern AU with Regency masquerade roleplay. Sexual acts with strangers. Very light dom/sub undertones, dirty talk, praise kink, frottage, handjob through clothing. Mentions of cunnilingus, blow jobs, vaginal sex, exhibitionism, sex in front of a crowd.

Word Count: 3.7k

Author's note: An exercise to warm up my writing muse that spiralled into a dirty-talking threesome 🤷‍♀️😬 This is modern AU with the boys dressed in Regency masquerade ball garb. Fic title is the name of the most exclusive ball during Carnival. Thanks to @colettebronte for quickly wading through this utter filth. Err enjoy 🧡

Venice.

Carnivale.

A masquerade ball ripped from the pages of history - an opulent smorgasbord of cabaret, circus and epicurean feast, held in a sprawling Venetian palazzo. You are stunned as you arrive; grand architecture ablaze with countless fire torches, jugglers and semi-nude performers under heavy garlands of flowers and vines while champagne overflows into towers of coupe glasses: a modern bacchanalian celebration, a luxurious escape for the rich and connected.

You have saved for years to be here - a once-in-a-lifetime trip. This ball is one night of fantasy and sensual indulgence. Detached from reality, you are plunged into another world behind a Columbina demi mask and elaborate costume picked from an atelier.

So when you find yourself sitting for the banquet between two tall, broad-shouldered, strong-jawed men with aristocratic British accents a few hours into the event, it feels enthralling to flirt with them both. The over-the-top theatricality of the setting and the masks you all wear lend an air of anonymity that makes you unusually daring. They are dressed sharply in full Regency garb, a cut that emphasises their appealing physicality. One of them leans in close as you finish the final course of the night; the meal has been a perfect symphony of flavour building upon the last dish.

“Pray tell, my fair lady, what do you wish for tonight?” 

“A night I will never forget.” 

Your response is truthful but intentionally enigmatic, craning to whisper into his neck, inhaling his delicious, unique, custom-blended aftershave.

“May I assist with that?” He proposes, intent evident from the tone he invokes.

“Perhaps….” You coquette, revelling in the delicious array of possibilities before throwing down a daring gauntlet: “Can you promise to be memorable?”

He huffs a throaty laugh.

“I most certainly hope I can. But safety in numbers may be most prudent to ensure it. Perhaps my brother can assist in such endeavours?” 

He nods to the man sitting on your other side, who turns towards you, smile crooked under his demi mask. 

“I am seated between two brothers?!”

“A Viscount and a renowned artist, no less,” the first man crows, a self-assurance there that speaks volumes to the veracity of his claim. And you can well believe it. Events such as this exclusive ball are the playground of the elite, after all.

“Which of you is the Viscount, and who is the artist?” You query, your gaze moving from one to the other and back again. 

The other man leans in. “Now that would be telling, wouldn’t it? And where is the fun in that?” He hums, his breath ghosting through the tendrils of hair around the ribbon ties of your mask.

“I am Ant, and my brother here is Ben,” the first man explains, “and that is all you need to know.”

You offer your name before tilting your chin to the stage before you. “The evening's entertainment is about to recommence, though, gentlemen.” 

“You will not need to miss a thing,” Ben answers blithely. “We can give you an experience like no other without you even having to leave the very chair you sit in.”

You can’t help the bubble of sceptical laughter at that bold statement. “How?”

“We will talk you through pleasure,” Ant intones, his voice dripping with a confidence that is skating the edges of arrogance. “We will not even need to touch you. In fact, I rather like the onus that we will not.”

You pull an incredulous face. “I’d like to see you try…”

“Oh, my fair lady, that attitude is just a red rag to the proverbial bull,” Ant cautions, voice like smooth velvet sliding over your skin.

Part of you wants to scoff and walk away, part of you wants to be stubborn and prove them wrong, but the biggest part of you, from your neck downwards really, wants them to do just that. Bring you pleasure. Here in public. In this loud, raucous, decadent room filled with hundreds of people.

“Go right ahead gentlemen,” you challenge, your tongue deciding for you as you raise an eyebrow to them each in turn.

Ant reaches around behind him and produces a long, black, polished walking cane. “Fortuitously, this came as a part of my costume,” he offers before pausing a beat to employ a clipped, brusque tone: “Open your legs.”

To your own astonishment, you obey reflexively. With a smirk, Ant slides the cane between your legs, still covered in voluminous skirt layers. He hooks its tip through the foot rung in your chair, then leans its ornate filigree round handle against the dining table in front of you. He rearranges the heavy tablecloth over it and around your lap to completely conceal the cane’s presence.

“Something for you to pleasure yourself against, subtly, of course,” Ant breezes as your head whips to look at him, startled by his matter-of-fact suggestion.

“Do not concern yourself,” Ben reassures. “There is far too much noise and distraction in this vast room for others to know or frankly care. Their attention will also be diverted to the stage and the performers. That is, if they are not themselves being pleasured. There are as many people to be found under these tables as people sitting around them, especially by the end of the night,” his opinion sounding very much based on experience rather than conjecture.  

“Shuffle forward in your chair,” Ant encourages, and again you find yourself doing his bidding. The many layers of your costume scrunch between your legs as you close your thighs around the thin cane, a throb already in your silken underwear at how daring this is, allowing two virtual strangers to do this to you.

“Perfect,” Ben compliments just as the music pipes up loudly and a troupe of dancers take to the stage.

Ant places two napkins on the table before you. 

“If either of us says or does something that you do not like, pick up the serviette closest to that person, and we shall desist,” he explains, a surge of pleasure that you are being given all the power to direct their behaviour. 

“Men of honour,” you comment, impressed, as both men subtly shift their chairs closer, turning into your body slightly. 

“We are gentlemen.” 

“It is a privilege for us to do this.”

A spike of lust races through you at their dulcet tones, so close up now.

“And what should I do if I like what you are doing? For you not to desist?”

You feel more than see the matching smiles on either side of your face.

“Oh, believe me, we shall know…” Ben chuckles richly, “and we will keep doing so until you are satisfied.”

Something in that smoky promise makes your pulse all over, and you swallow heavily, a flush creeping over you at their proximity. You can tell no one is paying the three of you any heed, though, with all attention around you glued to the magnificent performers.

“You may touch us anywhere you wish,” Ant tempts, knowing your eyes have flitted down to the fit of their costumes a few times already, expensive wool wrapped tight around shapely thighs.

“But it doesn’t matter how much you beg; we shall not touch you,” Ben adds teasingly.

You bite your lip, already squirming in your cushioned seat. The tautness of the fabric between your legs due to the cane there has your clit swelling. 

“Now, I rather suspect this fair lady likes a mental picture to be painted…” Ben begins.

“I think you might be right, brother,” Ant concurs. " You are the expert in such matters, after all.”

“So you must be the Viscount…” you crow, almost triumphant, turning fractionally towards Ant.

“Well, aren't you the clever girl?” he hums; that choice of words has a curl of heat unfurling in your gut.

“Of course she is,” Ben cuts in. “If there is one thing we can tell, it’s that you are an independent, smart woman. Who else would travel to Venice and attend such an event all alone? And yet… and yet…. secretly what you crave, what you would never admit to, is just how wet it gets you to be praised and told you are such a good girl, hmmm?”

You exhale shakily, slightly unnerved that he has been able to hit the bullseye so readily but so thrilled for the endless delicious prospects this could portend.

“But how good of a girl can she really be when what she most wants is for us to fuck her right here in public?” Ant piles in; his use of that phrase has you inhaling sharply, taken aback at how quickly it has escalated.

“Don't pretend you don't want that,” Ben clucks. “Your perfect little clit is throbbing right now at the idea, isn't it? Picturing these crowds of people watching, salivating and wishing it were them inside you. Watching as you claw at this table and take us both in turn….”

You are indeed clutching the side of the table already, nails digging into the wood through the cloth, breath stolen by just how explicit they are being. And yet, as promised, they do not lay a finger on you except the press of their clothed thighs against yours where they surround you on both sides. You rock further forward in your chair without even realising, needing to feel that hard rod against your slit, the relief that pushing yourself against it will bring.

“I rather think you would demand our tongues first, though,” Ant remarks casually.

“Oh, I wouldn't doubt it,” Ben agrees. “For us to throw your legs over our shoulders and feast upon you. Run our tongues over and over until you are shivering and pulling our hair, directing us just where you want us. I suspect you are the type who wants to taste yourself in the mouth of those who pleasure you. For them to kiss you with their tongue thick with your arousal, face glazed with your juices.”

You are breathing ragged, honestly spellbound by their ability. 

“And I bet you taste delicious. Like ripe berries, sweet but tart,” Ant contends. “A flavour that bursts on the tongue like a fine wine.”

He reaches for his glass and waits for you to watch him take an indulgent sip, the bob of his Adam’s Apple as he swallows. But he allows a drop to escape around the corner of his mouth dribbling a line that you track covetously, tongue feeling heavy, wanting to lick it from his hint of chin stubble.

“Remember, you can touch. That includes with your tongue, sweet girl,” he goads before using the pad of his thumb to wipe away that tempting trickle provocatively.

You can’t help the light moan that escapes your lips, grinding against the pole he has placed between your legs; the spike of pleasure it causes as it crushes your clit has you shuddering.

“That’s it,” Ben gusts. “Treat that swollen little pearl just a little rough. I bet all those layers of fabric are just adding to the exquisite ache….” 

His hand lands on the table next to yours, not touching but close enough that you can see how long and shapely his fingers are compared to your own. He swirls his pointer and middle finger slowly on the tablecloth in a circular motion. An intentional tease that you stare at, your hips somehow syncopating with the speed of his movements, imagining that very hand buried between your thighs.

“That’s it,” he repeats, “not too fast, not too slow.”

“Just enough to make you reckless with need,” Ant interjects. “You would do anything we told you to if we got you to that sweet spot, wouldn’t you?”

You nod without even realising it.

“Oh, I know it,” Ant gloats. “I would tease you for so long you forget your own name. Clit so swollen you can’t cross your legs. Begging and pleading for relief…”

These men use words like finely-honed weapons. Each phrase is seemingly expertly designed to take you apart at the seams. Your hands splay out on the table, and you grab each of theirs, clutching the back of their knuckles into your palm as you rub yourself shamelessly.

“You get the prettiest flush when you’re aroused,” Ben whispers, his eyes flitting down to your décolletage. “I wonder how far it goes? Does it keep going all the way to those pretty, puffy lips that are wrapped around that cane right now?”

The way he says it conjures the thought of your mouth wrapped around a cock; in no doubt that both of theirs are likely sizeable.

“I know what you’re thinking of,” Ant murmurs darkly as you keep writhing, a bead of sweat running down your spine into your underwear. “I know you are a dirty little thing who loves to be on your knees as well. I can tell how much you love the power. Having a man vulnerable in your mouth. Their rapt attention begging you to suck a little harder, a little deeper.” 

“She loves to tease,” Ben surmises as they lean in closer, both lips dusting the shell of your ear. “Little strands of saliva roping from your lips as you pull off and look up goadingly through your lashes. You love to feel the tremble of thighs under your palms, don’t you? That feeling when your lips are all swollen and your cheeks aching from all that sucking. But most of all, you love to have a man come undone in your mouth. To swallow every drop you have earned…”

You are panting openly, harshly, your mouth filled with saliva as you imagine how tasty they likely are, a sweetness that makes it pleasant, addictive almost. A yearning for either to stand up, unzip right now and offer you their cock to suck upon. All around you, lights swirl, and the music swells louder, obscuring what is happening at this table. The most risqué you have ever behaved, wantonly frottaging yourself as two strangers, albeit handsome refined gentlemen, spout utter filth.

“Tell me how you’d fuck me,” you demand, gasping, rhythmically crushing your throbbing clit, wanting to come so bad your skin itches.

“I’d go first,” Ben huffs, his breathing uneven now too. “You’re already dripping down to your knees from our tongues; you can take me, can’t you, sweet girl?”

Again, you find yourself nodding; your lip darkened from your incisor tooth snagging upon it.

“I think what you might enjoy is being face down,” he rumbles dangerously. “So you can’t see everyone watching you at first. Just hear their shocked but approving noises. Your forehead on this tablecloth as I place a hand on your spine to quell your quivering from behind. Drag your hips over this table and plough right into your weeping little cunt.”

That word is the catalyst. You can no longer hold back. Your hands fly into both of their laps and grab their thighs forcefully, loving the feel of warm, latent muscle as your fingers curl into their quads. 

“Oh, you like that…” Ant assesses correctly.

You hiss your assent as Ben continues.

“You are so perfect for me, aren’t you? Such a pretty pussy, all swollen and puffy and soaked as I split you open. I’m not going to go slow because that’s not what you want, is it? You want sharp thrusts, your toes leaving the ground with each snap, pressed hard into the table, your nipples rubbing just a little raw inside your corset. You want your entire body to jerk with each thrust, clit catching the table edge….”

Your responding yes is sibilant, as all around you, the frenzy of entertainment continues, spotlights swirling, performers contorting themselves in a seeming match for your fever.

“You want my hands clamped on your hips, tugging you back into my cock. Curled over you and praising how well you take it and what a good girl you are for me and for letting everyone watch. You feel so divine, squeezing my cock so tight that my eyes roll. Butttt…” he rolls that last letter in his mouth as if a tasty treat, his hand flexing on the table. “My poor sweet thing, just as you are babbling, clawing and moaning so beautifully, drooling onto this cloth right here, I'm going to pull out and leave you wanting, for we are not ready to have you come again. Not yet, my sweet girl. We want you mindless, to build you up so many times over that you are aching. The reward will be so much sweeter for you in the end that way, won't it?”

No one has ever talked to you in such precise, poetic detail before. Your hands grasp their thighs roughly, but they maintain their promise, even as you see the mutinous desire in the flex of their bodies, a muzzled yen to touch you back. It makes you need them more, how much control they can exert despite wanting the opposite. You are shameless in your motions now, pushing yourself towards that high; part of you wishes to plunge your fingers into yourself, and part of you wants to see if you can orgasm untouched, coming undone with just their words and friction.

“Don't stop,” Ant gasps. “Make yourself come, sweet girl.”

“I want to grab both of your cocks,” you confess rapidly, the truth tumbling from your lips as you ratchet higher.

“Do it…” Ant dares you, as out the corner of your eye you can see his are glittering darkly, pupils blown. 

They both growl as you twist your wrists and slide your hands greedily up their laps, shamelessly palming their erections, straining against their trousers under the table. The heat and mass of them both has your pussy quivering, knowing from this touch alone just how satisfied you would be to feel either or, ideally, both of them fuck you. Their grip on the table has their knuckles turning white as Ant speaks anew, a tinge of desperation in his words that has you gleeful.

“My brother has had a little of his fun; now it's my turn. And I think you are ready to see all those gathered around you, even those onstage gazing down upon you. So I am going to flip you over, my sweet girl. Place your ankles upon my shoulders, that drenched little slit ruining my trousers before I tug open my fly and take you too. How prettily you howl my name as I slide into you. This sturdy table is going to squeak, isn't it? You are such a demanding thing, ordering me to fuck you harder, your hands clawing at my jacket, your heels clicking together behind my head. Perhaps my brother needs to be on the other side of the table, holding your shoulders down so all can see. Maybe even ripping open your dress, your beautiful breasts bouncing with each thrust I take, my good girl. You want this and so much more, don’t you? For me to fuck you endlessly right here, right now….”

And it's true. You yearn for what they promise. For them to bury their tongues between your thighs, for you to be on your knees before them, sucking the very life out of their cocks. For them to throw you onto this same table and fuck you so hard and thoroughly, you leave fingernail marks on the wood. To have the whole crowd watch as you near peak after peak until you are a swollen, fucked-out mess. Craving nothing but more, another orgasm, that mind-blowing pleasure that makes you soar high above as well as stay rooted so deep in your body you feel a weight in your bone that is pure rapture. 

And just like that, you are breaking, burying your face into Ant’s neck as you wrap an arm around Ben’s. Shuddering violently as you crest that edge, febrile pleasure breaking over your skin, each cell of your body seeming to snap taut and then relax into waves of bliss, floating somewhere high above the sparkling chandeliers that hang from each beam. Dimly, you hear them murmuring your praises, but it's muffled by the rush of blood in your head. It seems to last forever, jerking and spasming against that cane, wanting instead to feel their weight on top of you, their cocks spurting deep within you as you reach that peak in harmony. When you come back to yourself, you realise your hands are still unconsciously squeezing their cocks through their clothing, and suddenly you snatch your hands from their laps.

“Don’t you dare come,” you snarl, as they groan enchantingly, so close and yet denied at the very last moment.

“Why?” Ant puffs, a vein on his forehead pulsing beguilingly.

“Because I need you to fuck me…” you grit out between your teeth. “Both of you,” you add, addressing Ben, his whole body quaking as you utter it. 

Even though your knees feel like jelly, you push back your chair, the cane clattering to the floor and rolling under the table, forgotten, as you stand up and grab their hands, hauling them from their seats. You are uncaring if anyone stares at you, costumes dishevelled and askew, as you march towards the exit. Neither resists as you tug them out of the ballroom, down the long grand stairwell and outside to the gondolas lined up on the dock, ready to ferry people back to their hotels. 

“I have one requirement…” you practically bark as you push them both down onto a seat, twisting to name your hotel to the gondolier behind you, his smirk unmistakable. 

“Which is…?” Ant prompts, staring up at you as you tower over them, your eyes drawn inexorably to the unmistakable outline still nestled in both of their trousers. 

You take a seat on the bench opposite them in the narrow boat. Wordlessly pulling up your layers of skirt and peeling down your ruined underwear, tossing them into the canal as they stare covetously, likely catching a glimpse between your legs before you roll your skirt back down.

“You had both better fucking touch me...” you finally reply.

They throw their heads back and laugh heartily, twisting to look at each other briefly, seeming to communicate silently before their gazes land back on you, almost predatory.

“You can bloody count on it,” they growl in unison.

masterlist • wips • taglist (must follow this blog to be tagged)

Anthony & Benedict taglist pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @ferns-fics @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23

[lover-of-mine]

No, but eddisol from Marisol's side it's such a nightmare, why did this woman stay with Eddie so long? They met as Eddie destroyed her ceiling because her brother almost killed himself insulating it, then he came back to fix the ceiling and she doesn't hear from him in a really long time (because a whole baby is created and born in the meantime, so it was a WHILE), then she runs into him at the hardware store and they bond over glue, then he calls you. Suddenly, she's a free babysitter, and then all of a sudden he asks her to move in then promptly panics because of her past, runs away from his house, constantly doges her until he asks her to move out, then he starts getting all weird and later she finds out it's because he's cheating on her with a woman who looks exactly like he's dead wife, and he wouldn't have told her about it if she hadn't walked in on them. Miss girl how good was the sex for you to ignore this many red flags???????

[myloserliegelord]

brother in law got me a pita yahoo!!

promised my sister i would clean the house but i want to go out for lunch -__-

[beardedmrbean]