#roasting spit

[spicymancer]

Based on an @vicwingly tweet.

[sleep-0-deprived]

Threesome with male reader being spitroasted

Just some Halloween spit roasting thoughts with ghost and König~! ૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა

WC:. 1.1k

This is just a short little rant and I couldn’t think of any better characters than these giants! @lazyenthusiastbear-blog <33

Thinking bout a small Halloween party at the base, just a few task force members nothing big but soon you find yourself sitting between The ghost and König whilst wearing some slutty vampire costume oh grabbed last minute from the nearest Halloween store, your chest practically exposed with you having in a pair of cheap fangs looking back between the two men seeing them both rock hard in their cargo pants letting you know just what they wanted.

You don’t even have time to get those plastic fangs out of your mouth before you have ghost in front of you jumping his crotch to your jaw while König works you from the back by slipping down your costume pants leaving your ass exposed to the both of them, König just anxiously grabbing your ass cheeks and pinching them extra tight before giving little smacks, not using hardly any force out of fear of not wanting to hurt you.

Ghost just pulling out his cock slapping you against your cheek almost egging you on while muttering words like “come on take what I give you [name]” while pushing his fat tip to your lip and making you make out with it before he pushes it inside your mouth, ghost will have you in the men’s dorms making you beg to suck him off while König rubs you soothingly from behind before prepping you up enough to get himself buried inside your rim, König being the gentle giant he is whispers out in a whiny tone “can I please enter you?~”

König fucking you like a bear laying on your back squishing you to the crappy bunk beneath making you gag and choke on Simon the whole time, swallowing down the salty pre come that Simon gave you while your stomach bulges and bloats from the little bulge König gives you making you feel like you’re being torn apart and impaled, rolling your eyes back with your fangs grazing ghosts cock. Making a slick mess of your face ruining your makeup and getting fake blood from your lips all over Simon’s cock but he couldn’t care less.

König holding your hips pulling you backwards instead of thrusting into you he lazily pulls you back and forth onto his cock with the occasional rock of his hips moaning on and on to ghost “es geht ihm so gut” in his native tongue, spitting words incoherently all drunk off the way your rim puckers around him and milks out load after load leaving come oozing down your thighs onto the army green sheets trying to shut you up so none of the other task force members walk in, specially not price.

Ghost holding your chin up looking down through his skull mask watching the copious amounts of spit coming from your ruined mouth, watching how you scrunch your nose up nice and tight when his seed shoots across your face sticking to your lashes while you hold your mouth open getting a generous amount on your tongue and fangs, not even bothering complaining about the lieutenant ruining your makeup, how could you when you’re too focused on König railing and plowing you from behind while one large hand holds your balls and palms them the whole time rearranging your guts.

König swapping places with ghost having you on your back with your throat bulging from the outline of the German man’s cock, your cheeks full like a chipmunk while ghost pulverizes your already gaping hole, König being gentle with your face barely rocking his hips back and forth while ghost lets out silent grunts like a animal in heat. Both their masks still on using you like their own boy-toy while ghost looks down whispering hazy degrading comments “one cock ain’t enough for you is it? What a Greedy little fucking boy we have here don’t we König”

ghost holding your hips half off the bunk angle ohh your hips upwards while he fucks you making sure every spot inside your ass gets assaulted by his cock, making you listen to how you squelch from the other man’s come, making sure you feel every little groove and ridge in his dick when he pulls out slowly and slams back inside you holding you on your back with your knees to your chest in a mating press nearly in salty tears when König finishes in your mouth making you gulp down the hot liquid while looking upwards at König, watching his eyes while he groans and ruffles your hair saying “that’s it, my Babyjunge is doing so good”

Their stamina seemingly endless when they rotate over and over at one point having both cocks nudging your mouth and tearing the corners of your mouth to fit their tips while you lay in your back dazed out weakly using one hand on each of their cocks jerking at their bases til Ghost comes first shooting all over your muscular chest getting on the V neck snapped opening of your vampire costume while König contributes to the sticky mess on your face only coating and caking the cum up more Turing you into a come dump for them.

By the end of the night you end up on your back with the whole bunk bed frame creaking about to crack and bend under the weight of the muscular men, your hole stuffed and gaping wide being double penetrated with your fangs covered in semen and spit laying on the bed next to you with König holding one thigh to the bed and Simon holding the other leaving your cock untouched while they fuck you. Using König’s past loads as lube for ghost to slide inside you and keep going making you a blubbering mess unable to form coherent sentences, just the occasional “m-ore~”

your whole body on fire and spasming and trembling coated in more loads than you’ve released, your cock soft and red like a fire hydrant with your balls having no more come to give, every orgasm pulled from you by now I’d dry and painful leaving you a shaking mess gripping the handles of the bed post, once finished with you they have you sandwiched between the two of them during the night after sneaking your wrecked body back into Simon’s private quarters, oh the wreck you’ll be in the next morning will be a site for them to enjoy.

When you do finally wake up you feel a burn between your cheeks and a sore throat, your mouth hurting from being torn leaving your lips cracked and your thighs dried stuck together from all the crusted come, and on top of all that you feel König’s cock hard again pressing to your thigh with ghost having morning wood behind you leaving you already knowing they were going again with you before you even made it to training.

[thepillarsofmarsandvenus]

kabru: "God, I hope this doesn't awaken something in me."

[bigcatbulges]

Source - K0BIT0WANI

(Artist's Fanbox)

[jesuistrestriste]

trainer!patrick + puppy!art + trainer!reader

you and patrick are a force to be reckoned with, that’s for sure. art knows it, and he knows that you two know just how much power you each have over him.

patrick is usually the ‘bad guy’ when it comes to punishments, always being the one to deal them out when he deems it necessary. he’s the one who’ll tie art’s hands behind his back and dutifully edge him until he’s wailing, and he’s the one who’ll bend art’s toned body over his lap to spank him while he apologizes for his mistakes.

you’re much more forgiving.

you and patrick actually happen to argue a lot over the so-called ‘best way’ to keep your guys’ plaything in line. your fellow trainer always advocates for harsher methods, and refuses to listen when you argue in favor of the gentler side of things.

but art’s soft. he’s clingy, he’s touch-starved, and he’s desperate for approval. he responds soo much better when you reward him for a lack of bad behavior, as opposed to patrick’s reversed methodology.

you kiss him all over when you come home and find that he hasn’t touched himself all day, and you let him hump your thigh—your leg clamped between his own—when he uses his manners to ask for it (“please”, “can i”, “thank you so much”, and the like).

so what happens when you and patrick corner him in bed after a day of ups and downs?

well..

it only makes sense that patrick’s fingers are down art’s throat; the blonde’s drool bubbling and dripping down his chin as he chokes on the intrusion. after all, he’d gotten mouthy with patrick on the courts earlier.

“what? you had such a big mouth this afternoon and now you can’t even take my fingers, mutt?” pat groans down to his friend, watching his watery blue eyes roll back as he whimpers around them, “what’s gonna happen when you take my cock in the next five minutes? open that fuckin’ throat.”

art’s trying with all his might to properly service patrick’s body, to prove to him that he can be good again, even if what art’s sucking on isn’t his meaty dick. the guilt is enough to melt his brain— he’s swallowing like he’s about to get a load pumped right into the back of his mouth.

you, on the other hand, are being unsurprisingly much sweeter. art had been much better with you in the early evening; helping to cook dinner for the three of you and buying a bottle of wine before he got home.

so youre holding a vibrator to his tip while your palm cradles and massages his balls. your balmy tongue sliding over the shell of his ear and then down to the thumping pulse buried in the side of his neck. he’s dribbling all over the toy, but he’s yet to fall over the precipice. you can tell that he’s holding back by the way his thighs shake while he’s sat up over the edge of the mattress, low moans and anguished whimpers coming out muffled due to his occupied mouth.

“good boy, puppy… taking us so well, aren’t you? you know how much we love you, even if patrick gets mean sometimes,” you whisper against his skin, “don’t cry, baby, okay? i know it hurts, i know you wanna come… just hold out a bit longer…”

the tip of the buzzing wand glides down his shaft and then back up to meet his sticky frenulum. god, he can’t take much more..

patrick’s already stuffed his musky cock into art’s mouth in replacement, as promised, and is holding his head still as he bucks into his face. “shit, artie, fuck— angh-! suck me down, just like that, take it—“

art is getting drunk off of the sensations alone, but the conflicting ways of handling him and his body only muddle his thoughts further. he’s trying not to gag while patrick facefucks him, and he’s also trying not to climax while you lovingly torture his cockhead.

he can’t think, he can’t move, he can hardly breathe.

a growled voice breaks through his incoherence.

“here it comes, here it— c-comes-!”

and then patrick is burying his length so far down art’s throat that his flushed nose presses into pat’s bush, cumming down his tight throat with a strangled groan. every salty gush of spend is gulped down compulsively by the blonde as he whines. pat smacks his cheek twice: good. boy.

you tenderly mouth at art’s shoulder as he jerks and swallows all of the brunette’s release, and then you decide to show your puppy some mercy.

the flush in art’s cheeks is ruddy when his airway opens up after pat pulls out, and you’re rewarded with increasingly urgent gasps as you lower the vibe to push against his sack. your hand that cupped him there moves; your index finger sucked warmly by your own mouth before it goes down to slip inside his hole. you curl it upwards, teasing that spongy spot, and art’s gone.

the whole world falls right out from under his feet.

“finish for us, puppy.”

art’s hands fly out; one grasping for your wrist and the other for patrick’s hip. he needs you both, he can’t take how good it all feels.

his jaw slacks open and the filthiest, most pornographic moan shudders out of his frame as his back arches and his legs kick out. every contraction of his abdomen results in a lengthy splurt of his orgasm over your wrist and his tummy.

he’s panting, completely overwhelmed with the aftershocks once a good several utterly blissful moments pass, only to come back down to earth at the feeling of a strong hand stroking his hair and a more tender one petting his bicep.

he doesn’t remember much else from that night, but he wakes up the next morning to clean smelling skin and a mess of blankets over his body. you two are gone from the apartment, but you clearly let him sleep-in alone. had you two wiped him down? tucked him in? more than likely.

the only evidence he has that the night prior even happened is a hickey on his collarbone, a lingering heat in his gut, and a note on the dresser.

‘to our pretty boy: see you later tonight…

… be good.’

[alchemistc]

won't make my mama proud

read on ao3

Buck's just gonna say it. He's not gonna be cagey about it. He's not gonna make it weird. Everyone important doesn't need an announcement, they'll - they'll see him, and they'll understand, and Buck will get to enjoy himself.

His parents are the wildcard.

"E- Buck," his mom starts, brow furrowed as she looks at the seating chart. She's getting better at catching herself, and it's small fries but it's not nothing. "Why did George get moved to table seven?"

He'd been a little giddy, sitting at Maddie's kitchen table with the seating chart out, the tips of his ears bright red and the smile refusing to leave his face, basking in the little hip-shake arm-wave dance Maddie'd done when he asked if she could fit a plus one in.

Buck honestly couldn't remember who they'd moved to make it work, but it'd made the most sense - Tommy knew Bobby and Athena, he knew Karen and Eddie and Marisol, he wouldn't have to sit with a table of strangers who didn't even know a "George" anyway.

His mom's eyes flit to the extended family table, where Tommy has been tucked in between Eddie and Denny. He'd made the place card himself, intent to match the script from the printers, tongue sticking out as he swooped the 'Y' out in gold Sharpie on a piece of leftover cardstock cut to match.

"Uh - I'm bringing a date, after all," Buck says, and he watches his mom slide through names, a mental list of people she vaguely knows of. The Marisol thing had been a point of contention - extended family meant family to Margaret and Phillip Buckley, and they'd already made an exception to let Chim include Eddie and his son at that particular table. They'd acted like the relationship to the bride and the groom was going to be hovering over the top of each table. So. She knows the name Marisol. She knows Athena and Bobby. Knows Karen.

The list of potential dates is growing smaller by the minute and clearly it's not computing.

He's just gonna rip the bandaid off. "His name is Tommy. My date."

Once upon a time, he'd have taken an opportunity like this to make sure he was the center of fucking attention for as long as he possibly could be. Maybe drive home the point that his parents didn't know him as well as they claimed they did. Definitely press their buttons, see if he could invite a reaction out of them.

Now he waves off his mother's confused silence. "I already ran it by Maddie and Chim, they know him." Sort of. It's too complicated to explain to his parents, right now. Maybe if the dancing goes well, at the reception. Maybe once he's snuck about fifty more kisses in.

"Buck, you can't bring a friend as a plus one to your sister's wedding."

He doesn't see why not, really, but that's - very much not the point. Oh. Oh yeah, that's a little painful. He gets why Tommy'd slammed the brakes, now, when he'd stuck his foot in it.

"Good thing he's my date, then, mom."

Even after all this time, he always feels like he's one bad interaction away from laying into his parents, but he tempers it. This isn't really about him, or them. This is about Maddie's wedding, which is two days away and doesn't need the distraction of the brides family having it out. Again.

"What do you mean?" she asks, and - her defensive voice always sounds like she's expecting a direct attack, teeth at her jugular and she's too frail to stop it. He's always hated the way she does that, because it always makes her sound like the victim of a heinous crime when half the time she's just trying to deny something she's been accused of.

Buck takes a deep breath through his nose. "Tommy. He's my date to the wedding. Once we've all eaten and toasted at the reception he'll be the one I'm getting drinks for, he'll be the one I'm introducing to Maddie's work friends, he'll be the one I'm dancing with." He'll be the one I'm going home with, Buck doesn't say, even if he really fucking wants to. He'd gotten a dick pic for the first time last night that had rocked his entire fucking world and he's very ready to explore the realities of finally understanding he's attracted to the male form in a sexual way.

She goes through what seems like all the stages of grief at once. Not unexpected, but still kinda shitty to witness. But she's - they're both better. His parents are trying. He'll give them that. She shores up a PTA mom smile.

"Oh. I didn't know you... Well I just didn't know."

"It's new," he says, because now doesn't feel like the time to tell her he's been analyzing old friendships for weeks now, that his penchant for trying to create deep bonds with men he admires has taken on a new meaning to him. He doesn't want to get into the conversation he'd had with Tommy two nights ago, Tommy laughing but understanding as Buck regaled him with the tale of how he'd followed the varsity kicker around like a lost puppy for most of his junior year and he'd only just figured out why. "Tommy used to work at the 118, though, so he's not exactly a stranger."

He doesn't really feel like giving her more than that. It's new to him, too, it's new and fragile and it's settling warm in his gut, this feeling like he finally knows the way to make a proper chili is to add some unsweetened cocoa powder. The recipe works without it but it was never quite right, until the secret ingredient got thrown in.

"You'll have to introduce us," his mom says, and Buck thinks about it - about the way Tommy will internalize the confused looks his parents try to hide, and the way Buck will want to curl tighter around him because of it, the way he'll want to shrink under the force of his parents never quite getting him and how he knows, he knows Tommy won't let him shrink.

"Yeah," he says, and his mind goes back to thinking of Tommy in a suit.

Tommy with a button undone that turns into three by the third song, Tommy fiddling with cufflinks, Tommy with suspenders, Tommy's ass in a pair of crisp tapered trousers. Buck wonders if he's an ankle sock with dress shoes guy.

His mom turns back to her trove of little gift bags, plastic crinkling as she ties another finished one off. He's - it feels a bit like he's waiting for a shoe to drop, sitting there next to her as her hands continue to pull jute twine from its roll in even six inch lengths, cutting them, twisting bags and tying them off.

Their hands meet the next time he slides a pile of filled bags over to her -- a bubble jar, three Jordan almonds, four Kisses, a quarter inch of crinkle paper on the bottom. Buck goes to move his hand back and her soft, wrinkled hand reaches out to pat his knuckles before she returns to her twine.

-----

He picks up Tommy's call when he's halfway home. "Hey," he says, and he knows Tommy can hear the smile in his voice. He can't bring himself to care.

"Hey. Did you already eat at your sisters?"

"No, my parents took Jee out to dinner so Maddie and Chim could have the night before Maddie imposes her weird twenty-four hour no contact rule."

"You Buckley's," Tommy says, and there's something fond in his voice that makes Buck's heart squeeze, just a bit. "I know I'll see you tomorrow night, but I thought, if you're not busy --."

"I'm not busy," Buck interrupts, and Tommy's little chuff of a laugh echoes back at him.

"Maybe I'm about to ask you to detail my truck for me."

Buck's still trying to find the right way to word his thoughts about armor-all and gear shafts when Tommy cuts across them.

"Low hanging fruit, Evan," he warns, even though he can't have possibly known what Buck was thinking.

"I was thinking about the twig, not the berries," Buck shoots back, and Tommy groans.

"You have sufficient evidence not to call it a twig."

"Which is why I was trying to compare it to the gear shift, before you derailed that train of thought."

"Do you wanna come over for dinner or not, Evan Buckley?"

Buck taps his thumbs on the steering wheel, does a little jig in his seat, tries not to smile so wide that he scares the driver next to him as he coasts to a stop at a red light.

"Are the berries on the menu?"

"The stick shift too, if you're lucky."

"This metaphor is getting a little murky."

"If you wanted to stop for shitty burgers I wouldn't mind," Tommy admits, voice softening, and Buck is already trying to plot out the best route to In-N-Out from here to Tommy's. "If you think of a way to make an Animal Style innuendo you are not getting into my pants tonight."

"I'll stick with the hot meat puns, then."

Tommy laughs, bright and loud, goofy like he can't quite control it, and Buck settles into his seat, flipping his blinker to get into the turn lane so he can double back a few blocks.

"You far enough away I can hop in the shower without telling you where I keep my hide-a-key?"

"Yeah, but maybe you should tell me anyway."

Tommy hums, and something settles under Buck's skin when Tommy gives him a frankly ridiculous set of instructions that no first responder is ever gonna follow in an emergency when they could just kick the door in, dispatch instructions be damned.

It's far too early in this, but Buck's pretty sure he's deep enough in this that it wouldn't weird him out if Tommy told him to keep the spare. He doesn't, and Buck doesn't mind, but it's there, in the back of his mind, that feeling like they're both in this for the long haul.

"Hey, I told my mom you're coming as my plus one," Buck says into the comfortable silence that drifts over the line. Tommy knows the bare minimum about his family, really, but he knows that's significant all the same.

"How did that...go?" And Buck keeps forgetting that Tommy wasn't always confidently out, that he's experienced the coming out conversation with a lot worse results than Buck's experienced, so far.

"She was mostly weirded out that you made George move to table seven," Buck jokes, because he's not sure he's fully unpacked how he feels about it yet, and Tommy - Tommy gets that.

"If I'm stepping on toes, I don't mind sitting with all the weird singles and estranged aunts, Evan," Tommy assures, for the twentieth time.

"You're sitting with the people I want you to be sitting with," Buck reminds him, and hopes he understands the part of that that Buck doesn't know how to say out loud yet.

"Noted," he says, that same tone as when he met Buck for coffee, a few weeks ago now, the weight of understanding the things between the lines.

"Go shower," Buck tells him, and tries not to let his imagination run too wild at the thought. "I'll see you in a bit."

Tommy doesn't immediately respond, and Buck can imagine him on the other side of the call, debating whether or not to make the dumb joke about detailing his gear stick himself. He clearly has better impulse control than Buck. "See you soon," he says after a beat, and hangs up before Buck can draw him back in.

[kissesbya]

Getting spit roasted by Rupert Campbell Black and Declan O’Hara STAYS on my brain

Especially if Declan has a daddy kink !!!

[mayafeyreal]

@sogiminuki I warned you.

[barnespls]

Been feeling art blocked so I haven’t finished anything but. Uhhh. I can provide you with a whoretash sketch…

[bigcatbulges]

Source - NascheTheDoggo

(Artist's Patreon Twitch Telegram and Picarto)

[bumblingbabooshka]

St Voyager Crew's Casual Chats: X

[depraveddame]

Chapter 10 of Bring Your Seed to Blossom has been posted! ✨🚿💖

So sorry for the delay on this, darlings, and I hope it was worth the wait! We revisit one of Crowley’s sluttiest moments in Vine Slips with his intended audience 💦

Excerpt:

Out of the corner of his eye and through the water, Crowley registered the blur of Aziraphale standing, and he turned his head to better see as he unbuttoned his shirt cuffs and slowly began rolling up his sleeves. He folded them back evenly and methodically, a gesture that made Crowley whimper around the cock in his mouth as Aziraphale walked towards him, his strides leisurely and torturously drawn out.

“You told me you imagined I’d be stroking your back as you did this,” a warm palm blanketed Crowley’s wet hip as Aziraphale murmured to him, low and honeyed in the exact, exact tone Crowley had heard in his head that night months ago, and he slid his hand up along his soaked back, his touch light at first but growing firmer as he went, fingers skating unhurriedly along the dip of his spine as if he were a rare and treasured book from Aziraphale’s beloved collection, “and furthermore, if I remember correctly, you fantasized about my pulling your hair,” fingertips crept up the nape of Crowley’s neck and slid into his dripping locks, trailing up his soaked scalp and playfully tugging at the roots before Aziraphale properly brought his hand together in a fist and twisted, “just about like that, if I’m not mistaken.”

*

@goodomensafterdark

[biteable-pink-pixie]

Sitting here with my family watching lotr, and I'm thinking to myself how good it would be if I was getting spit roasted by boromir and aragorn while the eye of sauron watches.

[danskjavlarna]

Source details and larger version.

Some harrowing vegetarian nightmares and other vegetarian imagery.

[lovethemalephysique]