#literally filth

[zackariahgaspar]

[queenklu]

Reading Frankenstein and we got to the part where "the creature" is created - always a good time bc Victor's immediate response to seeing his work come to fruition is "Oh. ..............Gross." and then he takes a nap.

Then of course when the creature wakes him up he flips out and runs away, which my students were Not Pleased With. (Because of Walton's desperate desire for a friend at the beginning of the book, many students have spent the first few chapters under the misapprehension that Victor is making himself a friend, quote, "Build-a-Bear Style" and finding out how badly he's quote, "mistreating his baby boy" is very upsetting for them).

So then in a fugue state "Vicky Frank" (another nickname from my students) just HAPPENS UPON his BFF Clerval, who is so very happy to see him, and Victor switches instantly into host mode:

Student1: YEAH MAN, I DON'T KNOW WHY HE WOULDN'T BE WHERE YOU LEFT HIM, HE IS A LITERAL 8 FOOT TALL CHILD

Student2: He didn't even babyproof his HOUSE! D:

But the part I wanted to talk about is actually this moment that I'd never noticed before, after VFrank gets Clerval inside his (miraculously) monster-free house, IS THIS:

I'M SORRY??????

HEY VICTOR??????

THE WHAT???????

[orb-weaving]

Recognition

[ace-and-ranty]

Spinning Silver is also one of my favorite enemies-to-lovers stories, not least of all because it is ACTUAL enemies-to-lovers. None of this watery rivals-to-lovers nonsense. They are trying to kill each other for most of the book and it is DELIGHTFUL.

Second best part is that they are literally just reliving the plot of Pride and Prejudice, this time with fire demons.

[serukaiz]

riding baji keisuke’s thigh. 𝜗𝜚

† contains: riding keisuke’s thigh (obviously), he kind of fingers you at some point but he’s mean so he stops, he’s got you wrapped around his finger and he does not feel shy about it. </3

a/n: just thinkin about bf… sigh keisuke

your hips are straddling the firm flesh of his thigh, clothed by those tight leather pants he always loves to wear. his legs are spread wide as per usual. your hips are moving across the muscular limb — not very tactfully, might he add.

this was supposed to be an innocent moment between you two, sitting on his lap and cuddling up to your boyfriend after a long day — but were things ever that simple and sweet with keisuke baji? he’s subtly bouncing his leg, intense russet pools burning into you like you’ve committed a sin. maybe you are, messing with someone like him, but you couldn’t help it. how would anyone be able to resist him? those caramel eyes of his that seem to undress and figure out your entire being at one time, the permanent glare on his face that just barely softens at the sight of someone he cherishes. his silky black hair that stretches on just a little past his broad shoulders, those shoulders he’s effortlessly thrown you over before. heat spreads across your face as he holds your gaze unwaveringly. one of his hands come to rest atop the fat of your hip, the touch all too feather light for a delinquent of his calibre. he’s being gentle with you. you can’t tell if you like it better when he’s tossing you around like a ragdoll or brushing against you as if you’re glass. there were few things that bested the feeling of having him push you down into the mattress, keep you pinned with his weight and do unspeakable things.

everything is making you feel warm. memories of you and him that should disgust any sane person, thoughts of him and everything about. that ache between your legs is unbearable, and if keisuke didn’t use the effect he had on you to his advantage. you swallow and rest your hand on top of his, the one caressing on your hip. you’d swear a smirk crossed his face at the differences between you, how rough his body was compared to yours. a low hum parts from the depths of his chest, sending an intoxicating vibration throughout you. your teeth catch the soft flesh of your bottom lip. the action makes him raise a brow, amusement falling into his deadpan expression.

his thumb gives your hand a light rub before he trails his entire hand toward your outer thigh, under the hem of his shirt that he’s allowed you to steal. your back bows, quiet whimper parting from you as you leave a deeper wet spot on your panties and the leather of his pants. gently, too gentle for someone like him, your hands perch atop his rock-hard chest. he leans forward, sharp gaze fixing on the wetness he’s coaxed out of you before holding eye contact with you. “c’mere,” he mumbles, and you obey instantly. that’s quite an ego boost. his lips meet yours in a kiss, one achingly slow but filthy all the same. it’s firm, knowing. he knows he’s turned you into putty in his palm. he knows he could bend you half in front of his friends and you wouldn’t have a damn complaint. you breathily sigh into the kiss. he didn’t even have to silently ask for entrance to your mouth, you just gave it to him. a praise rolls from his tongue that’s carefully mapping out the insides of you.

your panties are sticking to you at this point, your speed growing faster. it isn’t enough, though. nothing is enough unless he does it. so he does, and drags you back and forth on his vibrating leg. eventually, you have to pull away for air. a string of spit bridges the two of you. it’s even more lewd when he maintains direct eye contact with you, still equally glaring after your connected saliva snaps. you shy the slightest and he brings you back without hesitation.

his fingers start pulling your panties aside, just by a little. you can feel the cool sting of his metal rings. you lick your lips and he sweeps at the opportunity to take your tongue into his mouth again, making out with you while his digits start intruding your pussy. teasingly dragging upon the skin of your inner thigh — he likes the shiver you make when he does that. his middle finger probes your entrance through the fabric of your underwear, pulling it aside enough only to bare your hole. it’s as if your pussy’s begging for him. it is, and he knows that better than anyone else. and he’s not a stingy man. he’ll give you what you want, no questions asked… unless he’s feeling particularly sadistic. you moan into his mouth, his sharp fangs clashing with your teeth for a moment. he dips his finger inside your entrance, faltering your movements on his thigh briefly. the rough pad of his thumb feels your clit, and you’re well aware that you’re done for tonight. he moves away from your mouth, soft lips still hovering above yours. you can taste cigarettes on his breath. just like that, he pulls his hand off entirely from your pussy, making you whine. what a cute sound. he leans back, watching you indifferently. “what?” he snorts, “upset i ain’t fingerin’ you anymore? fuck yourself on my thigh. i’ll see you what you deserve.”

[usertoxicyaoi]

"My brother was messing with escorts, masseurs, sexual content creators and drug dealers. Now, he's gone MIA. Among all these people, someone has to be the culprit."

PLAYBOYY (2023). Official Teaser.

[friedwizardwhispers]

People writing "problematic" couples in fiction doesn't mean they endorse it in real life. There is a reason it's called ✨fiction ✨

Please get a grip.

[agathasblackheart]

I need the raunchiest most disgustingly explicit fic of Agathario. I need blood kink, knife play, throwing each other around, biting, hair pulling, screaming, nails digging into flesh, scratching, choking, absolutely fucking feral sex

[irradiatedsnakes]

do you think its a good sign to have smell headcanons

[the-solatorobo-fanatic]

honest to god if you think any ships in mouthwashing are good i'm just gonna assume you Did Not Play The Game At All

[daydreamgoddess14]

Complaints Procedure

MASTERLIST

Roy Kent x F!Reader

Literally just 1.5k of pure filth. Sorry, not sorry?! 😅Taken from this prompt.

Inspired by this image:

~~~~~

You knew to avoid the locker room immediately before and after matches. The less than stellar performance of the team during the season had seemingly made everyone angry - even Sam was down. Jamie Tartt continued to annoy and degrade everyone who so much as glanced at him, and the so-called Captain looked about ready to throw in the towel. Getting rid of George Cartrick may have been a wise decision, but his replacement was certainly unorthodox. You had your work cut out for you in HR, it was like babysitting 2 year olds - they all still bit, kicked, and scratched. Seeing you always gave them the initiative to put complaints in, complaints that you had to be seen to legitimately deal with, even if dealing with it meant sitting the idiots involved down and giving them a telling off. You had never told off Roy Kent, though. The man terrified and turned you on in equal measure.

Just the low timbre of his voice made your heart pound and flooded your body with want. Training was long over, so you figured you were safe to take some paperwork down to Ted Lasso's office. Your heels clicked on the concrete as you made your way through the maze of rooms. Wage slips for the folks in the ticket office, holiday forms for the staff in the medical and treatment areas, and the weekly update on player relations that Ted had asked you to draft. Who was fighting with who, who had you had to threaten with suspension, and who you'd just had to give an arse kicking to. As you turn to leave Ted’s office, Roy is coming back in from the showers. With just a towel gripped in his hand. You look literally anywhere else. The ceiling tiles become particularly interesting. 

"Oi, what you doing in here?"

"Just dropping some paperwork off, no need to be rude."

"Sorry, just… thought I was alone, that's all." You drag your eyes from the ceiling to his, drawing an invisible line across his nose so you do not look any lower. "See something you like?" He teases, as if he knows it's taking all your will to not look at his chest or the towel. 

"Definitely not. I'm done now, I'll leave you to it." 

 

You're sure you must hold your breath on the walk from the locker room to your office because as soon as you shut the door, it all comes out in a whoooosh. As good-looking as he is, you can't stand his arrogance, dominance, and anger issues. You knew it was nothing new in football or in work at all, really. You'd seen every layer of the food chain, and it was always the top of the tree who thought they were gods gift. You knew he could be kind and thoughtful. You'd seen it for yourself with the younger, less experienced players and with fans too. It was definitely a certain calibre of person who set him off - the Jamie Tartts and George Cartricks of the world. You're still leaning against your office door when you feel and hear it knock. When it begins to open against your back, you have to jump out of the way so it can swing open. Fully clothed, Roy is on the other side. 

"Do I scare you?" He asked, frowning. 

"Course you don't scare me, I'm not a sodding child." You roll your eyes. "Did you need something?" 

"I might need to put in a complaint." You arch an eyebrow at him, 

"Really? Go on?" He took a step closer to you, so you take a step back. 

"I saw the way you looked at me downstairs -" you scoffed, 

"I did not look at you at all. I actively didn't look at you," you start, angry until you see the smirk. "Oh fuck off, did you come up here just for a laugh? I've got enough to deal with picking up 

after Jamie Tartt since he can't stop making everyone miserable." He holds up his hands in surrender. 

"Alright, alright, just a joke," he laughs a little. "You wanted to look though." 

"You are just like the other idiots. So full of your own self importance, you all think everyone wants you." He narrows his eyes and takes another step towards you.

"At the risk of sounding like any of those pricks, tell me you don't?"

"What makes you think-"

"Humour me." He looks at you like he might devour you at any moment, his eyes dark with just a hint of mirth. He knows what you think about when you see him. You feel your breath quicken, and the urge to press your thighs together is desperate, but you don't want to give him the satisfaction of being right. Before he can catch you in a lie, he forces you to take one final step back against your desk and leans down to capture your mouth in a messy, obscene kiss. 

 

The shock of it makes you gasp, giving him access to deepen the kiss. Your hands grip at his shoulders to keep him close, trying to get him even closer if it's possible. He leans you back against your desk, the edge of it digging into the back of your thighs while his hands are trying to touch as much of you as possible. By leaning back on the desk, he can kiss along your jawline. It would be impossible now to make out that you don't want him, your greedy hands roam up his arms and into his hair and the sighs and moans he's pulling from you with just a kiss are insane. The length of his body presses against the length of yours and you feel him hard against your hip. Feeling how much he wants you only makes you need him more. Your hand brushes across the front of his jeans, making him jerk to meet it. He breaks the kiss and watches you breathlessly as you move to undo the button in the waistband. You can tell he's about to ask if you're sure, so you place a soft kiss to his lips,

"I want you to fuck me," you tell him quietly. There is still just a hint of hesitation in your voice, but it's more a fear that he'll reject you than anything else. 

"Fucking hell." He sighs into you. He grips your hips and turns you to face the desk, you rest on your forearms. He has your skirt rucked up around your waist in no time at all and nudges your feet a little further apart. You don't have the time or inclination to feel embarrassed or to consider something more meaningful. The singular thought in your mind is having him inside you. You hear the tear of a condom wrapper and feel him at your core. His hand cups you first, wanting to check that you're ready. "You're so fucking wet," he mutters almost proudly. He gives your hip a little squeeze of warning and pushes inside you. 

"God, Roy yesss," you hiss as he fills you completely. Fully seated, he pauses just a minute to reach down and sweep your hair to one side so he can kiss your neck, "please, Roy-" you push back against him, desperate for more. He takes the hint and pounds into you over and over. He’s hitting exactly where you need him with each thrust, and it's enough to have you believing in some sort of deity. You can feel the pressure building and you're so close to the edge it's overwhelming. "I'm so close, please daddy-" the words tumble from you, unfiltered and unexpectedly - that is a brand new one for you, and when you feel his pace slow just slightly, you're terrified that you've repelled him. He moans low in his chest and redoubles his efforts, unyielding, until you come hard, crying out his name. 

"Say it again," he whispers against your ear, his body draped over your back. His hand reaches around to rub circles over your clit and you're so sensitive that the payback is almost immediate and you can feel another orgasm building. 

"Fuck, make me come again daddy," you beg. He does exactly that within seconds of you asking, his own release coming at the same time. He holds your hips while your legs shake, his forehead resting on the center of your back. He slips out of you and disposes of the condom before turning you gently to rest you back against the desk. You keep your head down, chin to chest, mortified at what's just happened until his nose nudges against yours and he kisses you softly. 

"Holy fucking shit, I should threaten to complain again, that was insane," he breathes, still holding your hips and trying to get you to look up at him. 

"I shouldn’t ha-"

"No, don't do that. You're definitely going to say it again," he chuckles against you, "I fucking promise you'll say it again." 

 

FIN

[aetherixs]

juno steel, unhinged bisexual lady detective that he is, will always resonate with me but buddy’s monologue in ‘the heart of it all’ is my roman empire

[liquidloz]

Michael Keaton photographed for In Style (July 1997)

[the-gom-jabbar]

Reverend Mother Mohaim: *after popping into Paul's bedroom at 4am* This kid can't be the kwisatz haderach, he's skinny as fuck

Paul, who literally just woke up:

[tendermimi]

nbc hannibal / tom à la ferme

[nymphomatique]

good afternoon from me and sleazy dbf!miguel ❣️💓🥰 coming to you this friday!