#pedro pascal crackfic

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

Jizz Fingers║ ⓞⓝⓔⓢⓗⓞⓣⓢ

|| ꂵꍏꀤꈤ ꂵꍏꌗ꓄ꍟꋪ꒒ꀤꌗ꓄ || | PAIRING(s): alien!Joel x reader

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 3.2k | CONTENT: This is a crackfic. Joel is not Joel. He’s an alien that can shapeshift and isn’t into the splorgimums on their own planet. He wants to nut in you with his creampie fingers. It’s not supposed to make sense. It’s not supposed to be anything but fun and sexy and silly. It’s meta. It’s tongue-in-cheek. It’s self-indulgent. If you’re not into that kinda thing then idk what to tell ya, bud. 

| SYNOPSIS: u get creampied by a dick finger alien Joel Miller.

The sonorous silver ship glided above you before descending gently into a large clearing in the field ahead. Bright light flooded your vision as a hidden door pushed away from the spacecraft and revealed an occupant.

It appeared to have an amorphous, fluid corporeal form, but no matter the shape it always remained an off-white greenish gray color. Six large onyx orbs were situated near the top of the form. You assumed they must be eyes or some other sort of organ. When the greenish grey flaps snapped together and apart a few times in quick succession, you realized they were in fact lidded eyes.

A warbled voice sounded inside your mind. “Do not be afraid. I come in peace, and I stand before you with no intention of harming you.”

You realize the creature is speaking to you through your own mind.

You should be afraid, but instead you’re just fascinated and exhilarated. You aren’t sure why they’d say the same thing twice, though, just in a slightly different way. You also aren’t sure if you should respond in your head, out loud, or at all.

“That’s kinda a weird thing to say. Like, you said it twice,” you point out, speaking loudly and clearly enough that the creature can hear you.

At least, you think they can hear you. You don’t see any ears. Then again, they possess the capability of telepathic speech, and there must be some equivalent to hearing for that. You try to think what that is called or what that might be called when the creature shifts back and forth but still doesn’t approach.

“Those were two separate statements,” the voice in your mind contends firmly.

“Huh?” you ask. You’re sure you sound dumb, but you were never really going to be a match for a higher level intelligent being anyways.

“When I bust, it is peaceful for every being involved. I also greet you with good intentions,” the voice patiently clarifies.

Suddenly you are standing no more than arm’s length away from the being. “I saved your achilles the trouble,” the voice in your mind said, as if it was some huge favor.

“My achilles is fine,” you grumble awkwardly. “I know I should hit leg day more, but sometimes it’s just so–”

“Our sex organs are complimentary,” the voice interrupts. “We could perform the Divine Dance, if you’d like.”

You wanted to ask why they had to come all the way to Earth just to get laid, but you think better of it.

“The splorgimums on my planet just don’t get me,” the voice explains. You realize you said your thought aloud.

“Oh. Uh, okay. S-Sorry about that. I, uh, didn’t mean to offen–”

The creature waves a gelatinous blob arm dismissively. “No offense taken. You’re not like other splorgimums. I can tell. You’re different,” it assures you.

You feel a blush creep onto your cheeks. “Oh. Well, uh–” an awkward giggle “—thank you. But I’m not really that special, here on Earth I mean. There are other women who are wayyyyyy more attractive. Oh! I know! You should try driving by Doja Cat’s house because oh my god she is so. fucking. fine. Like, if I had her in that I’m A Cow Bitch Moo costume for 5 minutes I’d—”

“No. No Doja Kitties. Only you.”

You shrug and accept their obsession with you.

“Okay. So now what? I don’t know where your Divine Dance hole is, and your floating blobs are sort of freaking me out,” you admit.

You keep tabs on the hovering goops that orbit the creature. They remind you of the time you tried to make Key Lime Jello Shots for your uncle’s cousin’s dog’s recital but added too much vodka.

“I can take the form of something pleasing to you. An earth male, perhaps? The female of your species is more difficult to capture as they are far superior.”

“So fuckin’ true,” you agree. “But, hhmmmm, a male specimen? I mean, I hate all men, but Pedro Pascal seems pretty decent. Maybe you could turn into Joel Miller? You know, from The Last of Us?”

The creature nods — you think it’s a nod — and transforms into Joel. Game Joel.

“Oh, uh, look, Pixel Daddy is fine as hell, especially in part 2, but I meant the HBO adaptation of the game. Please,” you correct.

“How’s this?” Pedro’s version of Joel’s voice asks aloud.

Your pussy bottoms out. “Oh, fuck yeah.”

You disrobe completely as you enter the spacecraft.

“I set it to 72º Fahrenheit. Is that a suitable climate for your meat suit?” Joel asks.

“Yeah, that’s perfect. Mr. Alien, could you, like, put more of the twang into his voice? And use words like he does?  Like, how he sounds on the show? You know what, let’s watch a few clips to get it right.”

You pull up your account on your phone, but it takes you a minute to find it because you forgot they changed it from HBO Max Go to just Max. “So fuckin’ stupid. Purple is a better color than blue anyway,” you mumble to yourself as you pull up an episode.

The galactic creature uses some magical time skip thing to binge the entire series and gets a yucky smudge of goop on your phone screen when it attempts to find season 2.

“There’s just one season? Please tell me there’s another one,” Joel implores.

“Yeah, there’s a second season, but it’s not out yet,” you inform him.

“Damn. But you said there’s two games already? So what happens in the second game?” he asks.

“You know what, we super don’t need to get into that right now. Let’s see what you’re working with,” you quickly change the subject and grab at his crotch.

He grunts in approval. “Needy lil thing, aren’t’cha? You want my cock, baby?”

Your eyes narrow suspiciously. “Did you use a time jump thing to read a whole bunch of Joel Miller smutfic on Tumblr?”

Joel blushes and scratches the back of his neck. “Eh, mighta read a few.”

“Oh my god, you’re gonna be super nasty and dominant, aren’t you?” you sigh.

“Only if that’s what you want, baby. I’m a consent king,” he assures you.

“Well, alright then. I want you to rawdog me and slap my ass, okay?”

He smirks and pulls you close. “I’ll give ya what I give ya, and you just gotta take it,” he grunts into your neck as he nibbles and sucks downward.

You gasp at the sensation and grind your hips into him. “Oh fuck, Joel,” you whine. “I want you to wreck me, please!”

“Gonna fill that cunt up,” he says gruffly as he gropes your ass and breasts.

“Yes, Daddy, please!” you beg.

He pauses for a moment and looks confused.

“Oh, uh, you must not have got to those kind of fics–” you cough awkwardly “–uh, anyway. Sorry. Joel. Yes, Joel, please.”

“I can sense the vibrations of your inner sex organ when you call me that. If it is sexually gratifying to you, I wholly welcome the use of it,” the original voice says inside your mind.

“Oh wow. I love that you’re not kink shaming me. Glad you didn’t make it to that side of Tumblr,” you huff in a laugh.

Joel suddenly pins you against the wall and presses his hard, clothed cock against your bare skin. Even through the denim you can tell he’s huge. Apparently all those fic writers were right all along.

“Who’s gonna fill up that pretty cunt uh’yours, huh?” he demands as he grabs the back of your neck for leverage.

“Y-You, Daddy,” you say in an aroused tremble.

“That’s fuckin’ right. When my fat cock is inside you, I better hear you singin’ some thank you’s to Daddy for fillin’ you up so good,” he warns.

“Yes, Daddy, I’ll be your good girl,” you promise. 

He flips you around without warning and pushes your chest flush against the wall. 

“Even good girls need to be reminded every once in a while what happens if they don’t listen to Daddy,” he says in a low gruff.

His clothes have magically disappeared with the help of his alien outerspace boi powers. You feel him firm against your backside before a harsh slap of his palm replaces it. You jump and yelp in pain at the surprise spanking.

“Mmmm, pretendin’ you don’t want it, but I feel you pushin’ your ass back for more,” he taunts. 

You whine because he’s right. You can only imagine the derisive comments he’d make if he felt how wet you are. 

He lands another three harsh swats on the same patch of skin. Tears prickle up in your eyes. “D-Daddy,” you moan. 

“You gonna thank Daddy for keepin’ you in line, baby?” Another swat. It stings so much you know there must be an imprint of his hand clearly outlined by your welting red flesh.

“Thank you, Daddy!” you choke out. “Th-Thank you for k-keeping me your good girl and not letting me b-be bad, Daddy. I only wanna be good for you, Daddy!” you wail.

“That’s what I like’tuh hear, baby,” he grunts into your ear. “Ask Daddy to make you into his own little cocksleeve. Ask Daddy to give you this big, fat cock.”

You whimper as he slips his length between your folds and rubs back and forth in teasing passes. 

“Daddy, I want you to use my pussy. I need it so bad. Please. I just wanna be your cocksleeve. Use my holes, Daddy,” you whimper.

You barely finish your sentence when he flips you around again and lines himself up with your entrance. Apparently the alien creature was just as into this as you are because their altered form reverted back to the amorphous gray green blob. You’re way too horny to be picky about it right now, so you squeeze your eyes shut. You forgot to charge your vibrator, anyway.

Their penis was more like fingers that kinda moved around randomly. You don’t know. You’re not an astrophysicist or whoever it is that would best be knowledgeable about alien wieners.   

Its spongy gray appendage felt firm and slimy as it entered you. There was some sort of phantom connection to your mouth and throat as well, the sensation of its finger-penis dragging back and forth, able to be felt in both your pussy and your mouth. It was weird, but you knew if it was Joel Miller doing it then it would somehow become totally fine and very hot. 

“You’re getting too lost in the sauce,” you whine. “You’re in your true form again. Change back.”

“Mmmmm, sorry, baby,” came the familiar gravelly voice once more.

When you felt brave enough to open your eyes again, you saw those familiar Wreck-It-Ralph sausage fingers and sighed in relief. The alien had changed back to your preferred form of Joel Miller as portrayed  by José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal.

As much as you wanted to stare at his face, you also wanted him to dick you down through the floorboards of the ship. You wiggle to sink down onto your hands and knees. “Wanna be wide open for you, Daddy,” you pout.

He makes an approving growling noise and scrambles behind you, shoving you downward between your shoulder blades until your face is smushed into the floor. He makes no effort to warn you before slamming his entire length into you. The impact of his wide tip against your cervix is so forceful it punches the air out of your lungs. You let out a panicked, strangled moan, suddenly unsure if you were going to be able to take this dick like a champ.

Joel grabs your hips for leverage and starts pistoning rough, deep strokes into your drenched pussy. “Gaahh–Goddamn! Fuckin’ chokin’ it, honey,” he rasps in a labored voice. “Feel so fuckin’ tight for me.”

“It’s s-so big, Daddy. I dunno if I can take it,” you cry.

“You can take it. You can take it for Daddy. Be a good girl or m'gonna hafta punish you,” he cautions. As a reminder of what that might entail, he strikes your backside so hard your entire body jerks as you let out a sob.

A high pitched moan gathers in Joel’s throat as you start to accommodate his size. “Yeah, fuckin’ like that, huh? Like when Daddy spanks you? Makes ya listen?”

“You’re so good to me, Daddy!” you sob. Your arousal is practically dripping down your thighs. You listen to the hum of the engines mixing with the sounds of your drooling cunt being fed Joel’s massive cock over and over again. He grabs your wrists and pulls you upward, using your limbs like reins on a horse. You have no control over the depth of penetration in these positions, and Joel is opting for nothing less than utterly devastating your pussy.

“M’gonna give you these fingers, too, baby. Know you can take it,” he pants.

He releases your arms and lets you scramble to catch yourself before faceplanting.

“Hey! You could’ve at least–”

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth and take what Daddy gives you,” he snarls.

You whine and clench around him. You feel a boogery churro type object prodding at your asshole. You turn your head quickly enough to see the creature has let Joel’s arm halfway revert back into the wiggly blobby thing.

“Did I say you could turn around?” he barks. He spanks you again with his 100% Joel hand, hard enough that you know there are pinpricks of blood beginning to seep through.

“I’m sorry, Daddy!” you scream.

You feel him now inside both holes. It’s overwhelming and amazing. The phantom throat thing is back again, and you like how you gag even with an “empty” mouth.

“Got enough for every hole you got and then some, sweetheart,” he practically slurs. He sounds completely wrecked.

You feel your lower belly heating up and quickly tightening.

“Oh my fucking god, Joel. I’m getting so close,” you gasp.

“THAT AIN’T MY FUCKIN’ NAME WHEN I’M STUFFIN’ YOU WITH MY COCK, SWEETHEART,” he grits out as he wraps his hand around the front of your throat and squeezes.

When your breaths quickly become hard to take, you know you’re going to come soon.

“I want your space juice inside me, Daddy!” you cry out, not caring if you’re breaking the illusion. You still needed to be clear and consensual in your approach to this intimate exchange, and you needed to address the weird topic of whether or not your birth control could do effective hand to hand combat with spaceboi cum. 

“Our sexual organs are compatible, but our reproductive hormones and liquids are not,” the voice explained in your mind.

The Jim Carrey baby grinch was kinda cute, but you still felt better knowing you weren’t going to birth a little green gremlin alien baby. (Although you did think Victor or Clementine would be nice names.)

“Put a baby in me, Daddy! Fuck your baby into me!” you beg now that you know you can’t actually get pregnant. 

“Uh, I mean, there’s just so much pregnancy fic out there,” Joel hedges carefully, still maintaining his merciless thrusts. “You don’t really wanna make this into a whole thing do you? Ya know, with the pregnancy storyline and stuff? Some users have actually said they prefer—”

“No, Joel, I’m not actually—” you interrupt in a huff “—I’m just saying it to be sexy. It sounds sexy. Besides, there’s some fic writers who basically only write creampies but none of their characters ever seem to get pregnant. It’s kinda wild. There’s a fic writer I can think  of right now, actually. She loves creampies so much.”

“So she’s just really into pussy gettin’ drenched but nobody’s gotta deal with babies? Sounds like a pretty sweet deal if ya ask me,” he approves.

“Yeah, I think the only pregnancy fic she has is, like, this really nasty oneshot where the reader is already pregnant and she gets double teamed by Tommy and you at the same time. Oh and she lactates. I wasn’t into it at first, but it was kinda hot. Maybe you’ve read it? The author calls herself Puddles?”

“Oh, her? That Gasoline Rainbow lady? I thought she just made memes?” He sounds surprised and impressed. He’s hitting your cervix repeatedly with such force that you feel like your vagina is going to look like somebody dropped a tray of lasagna on a pubic hair linoleum floor.

“No, she actually has, like, legit fic on there, too. She’s, like, really talented. I can’t believe she doesn’t have more followers,” you laugh incredulously. 

You’re glad he doesn’t ask how you would know how many followers she has since that isn’t publicly available information. You hate it when plot holes have to be smoothed out nicely and still fit in with the story. It’s so boring and way too much work sometimes.

“Maybe stuff like alien jizz fingers is a little too much for people to–”

“Okay, this is getting too meta. Let’s just get back to you fucking me so rough I can’t walk right for an entire week, okay?”

“Hnngg, fuck yeah. Daddy’s gonna wreck this cunt,” he hisses as his thrusts pick up pace.

“DADDY, I’M GONNA COME,” you cry as you start clenching and seizing around the massive circumference of his cock.

Joel lets out a guttural, choked moan as he empties inside you. You can feel it from his weird creampie fingertips, too — even the invisible one in your mouth and throat. You’re trembling, trying to keep yourself upright as Joel fucks into you through his orgasm. You lick your lips. There’s a flavor there. Is that….?

“You like Daddy’s brisket cum, sweetheart?” he grunts as his thrusts slow to a sloppy grind.

“I thought I tasted barbecue,” you muse. It was bewildering, but mostly satisfying.

“Yeah, tastes just like those Fourth of July backyard get-togethers you love in that Texas heat,” he breathes. "You runnin' around in barely anything, makin' me hafta adjust myself so your dad don't catch his best friend ogling his precious daughter."

“I’m starting to think you read more fic than you admitted to earlier,” you assert.

“I like it, darlin’,” he shrugs.

“Are you gonna follow Puddles now? Oh! Can you do a mind link thing with her and see what she’s working on next?” you implore.

Joel appears to zone out for a minute, and you take the opportunity to stare at his naked body. He looked perfect. His eyes focused again as he looked at you.

“Her waveforms are erratic and very concerning, but once I subdued a Brain Goblin inside her mind I was able to discern she is likely to be releasing some Ezra from Prospect centered fictional stories,” the voice inside your head revealed. "They are very sexually aggressive."

“Nice,” you say under your breath.

“So you gonna let me have that sweet pussy again, sweetheart?” Joel drawls.

“Yes. But I’m going to need you to familiarize yourself with Pedro’s extensive works. I’m thinking we could do some really great Mando roleplay in this spaceship,” you say with a big smile as you gesture around.

Joel smirks at you. “Don’t matter what form I take. You’re still gonna be callin’ me Daddy.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you agree with a big grin.

I hope those splorgimums understand what they lost bc that's our man now! Special thanks to Multiversed Daydreamer (Fuzz) for inspiring part of the title and @xdaddysprincessxx for the shared derangement over That Old Man™.

Undying thanks to @psychedelic-ink and @bonezone44 for writing some of my fave ~aLtErNaTiVe KiNk CoNtEnT~ and inspiring me to let my brain run wild with this crackfic.

Art in graphic includes transformed works of the Mucinex booger man.

catch ya later, ♥Puddles♥

P.S. - I counted how many times "Daddy" appears in this, and it's 29.

tagging: @wannab-urs, @gracieispunk, @milla-frenchy, @patti7dc. @lumoverheaven, @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog, @toxicanonymity, @rubyfruitjungle, @huffle-punk, @jupiter-soups, @swiftispunk, @theywhowriteandknowthings

#crackfic #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #tlou fic

[beskarberry]

Buttered Toast

Dieter Bravo as Gio x gn!reader

IMAGINE: CLIFFBEASTS - Sweepstakes to have breakfast with none other than GIO! He will be IN CHARACTER during the breakfast!

Rating: M mature for silly

Content Warnings: none, except silly Gio foolishness

A/N: This glorious shitpost was written entirely by my beloved husband @man-slut-mando for the entertainment of our discord server. It's beyond crack fic, so hold on to your butts! It's about to get buttery.

You, of the 5 million entries…have WON THE BREAKFAST DATE WITH GIO!

You're driven to the airport, you get on the plane, and arrive at your destination: San Francisco, CA.

You're escorted by the crew of the movie! Limo, mid-morning mimosas, and a luxurious trip though Cali's hottest spots.

Now imagine:

YOU ARRIVE AT:

THE TOAST EATERY!!

Out front stands... Gio

He smiles warmly, and extends a hand to you as you exit the limo

As you walk towards him to take his hand, he throws out both arms and hugs you tightly - Almost too tight, and in true character, yell-whispers in your ear…

"GIO WAS WONDERING WHYEN YOU WERE GYOING TO GYET HEEEERE!"

Immediately he lets you go, and sprints inside the restaurant.

On the tables, toast.

Toast, toast toast.

On the radio: Haywood Banks, 'Yeah Toast'.

The menus? Long bread, with toast.

No extras, only butter, and Gio loves butter.

"THIS is Gio's FYAVORITE PLYACE TO EYAAAAT."

CRONCH CRONCH CRONCH - Crumbs everywhere. Napkins? NO, your way to clean up butter and toast crumbs?

MORE TOAST.

The icing on the proverbial toast-cake while you're there with Gio? He finishes his 24 pieces of butter toast. He has a mountain of crumbs on the tabletop.

He LICKS the table clean.

In front of you.

You stare at him, face guffaw'd.

"Oh, you wanted some of Gio's bounty? TOO BAD, LEETLE GURL. The crumbs are GIO'S."

You try to strike up conversation about the new cliff beasts movie.

"Do NOT try to deestract Gio by talking about the FYEATHERD BIRBS. Gio knows you are trying to STYEAL HIS TOAST."

The server brings you a drink.

Rehydrated milk with toast crumb topping.

"Ah, PYERFECT FOR DEEPING MAI TOAST INTO." Gio drinks the rehydrated milk abomination and smiles. Crumbs: present. Teeth: covered. "NYOW, how about a leetel kees for Gio?" At this point the song on the radio has hit the french toast part. Gio switches into this best french accent. He leans into your face, "omlyeeete due fyoromaaage~"

The date continues.

You leave the toast eatery, Gio still covered in crumbs. Guards? Security? Nope, it's just you two. You walk the streets with Gio as he points out all the best things.

"You see theees fyire hydrant? it is the REE-YONG color of REEYED." He leans down and touches the hydrant. Pulls out a large crescent wrench from his pant leg that you didn't notice before, "Gio needs hydration."

SPLOOSH!

Water, everywhere.

Gio takes a drink. Flooding waters be damned, he pulls you along, both of you soaked.

Phones, ruined.

Hair, sloppy.

Plap plap plap go his wet slippers on the concrete. The $200 you spent on getting all pretty for meeting your favorite actor? Gone. Wasted. Oh yes, did I forget to mention? He's dressed in slippers, jeans, and a bathroom robe. Hair, fluffy and erratic. No shirt.

Crumbs are stuck in his chest hair.

He notices you noticing him. "Oh, you weesh to consume from Gio's glorious chest bounty? I THYINK NOT." He grabs his chacha poppers and licks the crumbs off his chest as best he can.

(We cannot reference his pecs properly, no. We must refer to them as his chacha poppers. Uno and dos)

You continue walking. By now, your shoes have dried, but the rest of you hasn't. Was this the breakfast date you wanted? No, but you were still with Gio…so….

Stop.

Gio stares skyward. "I weesh to eat edamame."

You furrow your brow. "Eda..mame? Like the bean?"

"Gyes. Just lyiek your edamame, madam omelette~" At this point you can't help but wonder what sort of drug induced frenzy has taken control of this man. He turns to face you, and walks up to you slowly, cautiously. "You…will help Gio find his edamame"

Your eyes wander around, looking for anything that remotely looks like a candid camera location. "Hey."

"HYEY." Gio stares you down with a frown on his face. "Do you nyot trust Gio? Why do you avoid hees special gaze?" 

Suddenly, a sound graces your ears: Pyurrrruururrubbbbbybbbppbbbpbpbptt

Gio's eyes go wide. 

"Gio. Must. Go. NOW." He breaks into a sprint-wobble, aiming for the dry cleaners across the street. You're too stunned to follow him, instead watching as he slams the door open And proceeds to lift the lid on a washing machine by the front window. 

The owner starts screaming in an unknown language.

Gio sits upon the washing machine, jeans only part way down his thighs.

Unbeknownst to Gio, and unbeknownst to the shop worker…

This machine will start on the spin cycle if hit just right.

And unfortunately for both parties involved…

The spin cycle starts.

Clearly, we're going to need a bigger mop and bucket soon.

You can't face what is unfolding in front of you, so you turn around and start walking away from the dry cleaners who just received a new indoor paint job. You pull your phone out - Still drenched by the way, and sigh at the fact that it is still indeed dead. You continue walking down the street. Folks watch you as you pass by, questioning your looks, but hey, it's San Francisco.

Suddenly, behind you in the distance, you hear: "plap plap plap plap PLAP PLAP PLAP"

"MYEYE SWEET LEETLE GURL, WHY DO YOU FLYEE FROM GIO?"

A shiver - Nay, an ICEBERG of a shudder runs down your spine. You snap your head back to look at the oncoming disaster that is Gio. At this point, what you see cannot surprise you any more, and yet…

Three, count them: THREE pairs of ladies' underwear are upon his head. His jeans? Still on one leg. His WHITE boxers are now coated in some blue substance which you assume to be detergent, yet you can see a hint of…brown?!?!?

He's lost his robe and now has a yellow suit jacket on.

"WYAT FOR GIOOOO!"

He stops inches from you yet again, and smiles as tenderly as he can, covered in more than the normal amounts of fluids a man should have on at one time.

Before you can say anything to Gio, you hear tires screeching in the distance.You both turn to see your savior approaching at more-than-legal speeds: THE LIMO!

The limo screeches to a halt in front of you both, and two people jump out immediately. In their hands is some sort of hulahoop, with plastic around it?

"Oh, hyellow my frieeends!" Gio chirps before being grabbed by the scruff of his neck.

"Hello, Dieter."

The hula-hoop is held above him, and within milliseconds, a curtain drops around him, hiding him from view.

Clothes are flung from the sides, a large bucket of water is dumped into the ring above Gio, with him giggling the entire time.

The hoop is dropped, and Gio reappears fully clothed and clean.

"Hyellow again!"

Both of his handlers look at you, faces emotionless. "Don't worry, he does this a lot."

"He what?"

"I dyou this a-loht" Gio says, mocking his handlers with a high pitched voice.

The exhausted handler sighs. "Now, shall we continue to the next part of your sweepstakes prize? If you both enter the limo, we can head to our next destination. Gio, we even have your favorite snacks in the limo: fruit roll ups!"

"Oh be-yoi!" I love the snacks!"

To be continued.

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#dieter bravo #pedro pascal #the bubble #crackfic

[metataxy]

Thoughts about Nimona

(1) Waiting for all the Gloreth/Nimona fanfic

(2) Surprised Goldenloin wasn’t a prick given that amazing name.

(3) Did Nate Stephenson base Ballister on Pedro Pascal?  ‘Cause like, I think live-action Nimona needs to have Pedro playing Ballister Boldheart.

(4) Heh.  GoldenLOIN and BALLister.  Oh gawd, I need to stop reading crackfic.

#Nimona

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 🎃💦 ∘₊✧ 𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝟜 ✧₊∘

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@absurdthirst's Kinktober 2023 Prompts

Day 4: Overstimulation, Oviposition/Egglaying, Human Urinal

𝐄𝐠𝐠-𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐲 ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ Jɪᴢᴢ Fɪɴɢᴇʀs ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ

| PAIRING(s): splorgimum!Mr. Ben x reader | RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 1.3k | CONTENT: crackfic, academic foreplay, eggs, erotic filming | SYNOPSIS: Mr. Ben is down bad for you. Deadass.

“I know you said our sex organs are compatible but our hormones and liquids aren’t, but can’t we try something new? Something fun and, like, ovum adjacent?” you pout.

“I guess I could  figure something out if that’s what you really want,” splorgimum Mr. Ben agrees. “I love that adjective usage, baby. Have you been reading that Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary I got you?”

He licks his lips as he palms himself. It was kinda a weird kink of his, but it made sense for a teacher, you suppose. You just hope this wasn’t going to veer into Geometric Proofs again unless he was going to tessellate that cock into your pussy.

“Yeah, I bookmarked it at defenestration,” you purr with a sultry emphasis on the window ejection term.

He shuts his eyes and groans as he grabs at himself through his dark gray dress slacks. “God, you know what vocabulary does to me. Say something else.”

“Nomenclature,” you hum seductively.

Mr. Ben grunts. “Fuck, say something else. More.”

You walk your knees across the bed to him and lean into his ear.

“Antidisestablishmentarianism,” you say in a tantalizing hush.

Mr. Ben’s hips jerk as he grunts at your foreplay.

“You wanna hear me talk about the Dewey Decimal System?” you coo as you run a hand up his chest.

He looks up to the ceiling as if he’s trying to hold it together and is barely hanging on by a thread. “If you start talking about proprietary library classification systems, I’m not gonna last,” he breathes out heavily.

“Then let’s stop talking, and let’s start fucking,” you suggest with a lewd tug at his raging hardon.

“Yeah,” he agrees, running a thumb over his bottom lip. “Lay back for me, baby.”

You settle onto the soft bed and let him use his spaceboi powers to make your clothes disappear. He breathes excitedly as he pulls out his phone and centers it between your legs. You squirm under the gaze of his camera lens. 

“Lemme just make this Fan Cam of your pussy really quick, baby,” he coos. He taps something on his phone and a bright light illuminates your glistening cunt. “Incredible,” he breathes.

You tug impatiently at his navy blue sports ball themed tie. “Ben, please,” you beg.

“Okay, okay,” he says with a sigh. “Gimme just a sec. Gotta…make sure this… zoom and transition…  is seamless…..” he trails off as he concentrates on his work.

“Don’t you have enough Fan Cams of my pussy, Ben? There’s thousands by this point,” you pout.

He makes a noise like he’s paying attention, but he’s clicking around on his phone again. You hear a slowed down reverb version of Britney Spears’s Toxic playing low in the background. “That’s a good one,” he says to himself.

“BEN,” you call his attention back.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he murmurs with an apologetic grin. He sets his phone aside. “I just hafta make them. You’re my beloved, and your pussy has me in a chokehold.”

You moan at the praise.

“You’re in your Coochie Meow Meow era, and it’s nom nom delish,” he whispers into the shell of your ear as he braces himself above your body.

You grab for his cognac colored leather belt and work it open with deft fingers. He helps to free his massive cock from the confines of his Calvin Klein boxer briefs. 

“Put it in me, please!” you whine.

He shoves himself into you all in one go. You cry out in pleasure. 

“Oh fuck yeah,” he groans as he thrusts sloppily into you.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he stretches you.

“Say something dirty to me, baby,” he urges as he snaps his hips harder.

“The Oxford Comma isn’t mandatory. It’s grammatically optional,” you rasp.

“Ohhh FUCK. Keep going,” he begs.

“The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell,” you moan.

“OH GOD, I’M GONNA OVIPOSIT IN YOU, BABY.”

“You’re so Daddy! Periodt!” you wail.

“Hhhngggffff- fuck! I’m Daddy, and you’re Mommy,” he cries out. 

You feel a large oblong spherical shape stretch your walls as you both climax. “Ohmygod, Ben! It’s so big!!!”

He grunts as he empties himself into you, smearing his creampie fingers onto the bedsheets on either side of your head.

“Yeah, baby. I’m giving it to ya real big. It’s that C = 2 π r you love.”

He pulls out of you with a gasp. Your pubic mound looks like it swallowed a giant avocado. “What is that?” you ask breathlessly. You feel so full.

“It’s an egg, just like you wanted,” he hums, rubbing his palm against the shape of it where it bulges out from your lower belly. This should really do it for those belly bulge kink sluts you think to yourself.

 “Push it out, baby. Let’s see it,” he spurs you on.

You start bearing down as hard as you can. “Why does it feel all plastic-y?”

“Please do not be alarmed,” the splorgimum voice reassures you telepathically. “It is not derived from such materials. There is no risk of microplastics in your sexual organs.”

“Oh okay, good,” you breathe a sigh of relief. You push as hard as you can. You feel like the Bettie Page of Easter Bunnies. You push and push until the rounded shape moves from where Mr. Ben placed it.

“That’s it. That’s my little Omelette Princess,” he praises.

You break a sweat working it out of you, but finally it emerges. It shoots out of you like a tshirt cannon at a baseball game. Mr. Ben uses his sensual splorgimum spaceboi powers to make it levitate in the middle of the air. It slowly spins, and you can just make out the words underneath the splotches of your slick dripping all over it.

“Is-Is that what I think it is?” you breathe.

Mr. Ben nods and grins triumphantly.

“A Ryan’s World Giant Mystery Egg Series 12?!” you gasp. Tears brim in your eyes. It’s so beautiful floating in the air. You can barely contain your excitement at the thought of holding it. “But that series isn’t even out yet!”

“Only the best for my girl,” Mr. Ben coos.

“Can we–?”

“Of course,” he affirms with a warm smile. He lets it float down into his hands. You begin hastily unwrapping it together. Something is different about this one.

“A Ticonderoga #2 pencil?” You’re bewildered. Where was the slime packet? The minifigure? The collectable stickers?

You dig in further. Mr. Ben pulls out an SAT Prep book. He groans lustfully. “Gonna set that aside for later,” he says as he gives you a lecherous wink.

All in all it wasn’t a bad haul. Just strange. You smack the yellow ruler design slap bracelet onto your wrist and watch it instantly wrap around it. “Cool.”

“I guess I, uh, kinda came up with my own Mystery Egg surprises for this one,” he admits sheepishly. “I hope you don’t mind.”

You hold up the Lunch Lady Paulina minifigure and turn it fondly in your hands. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect,” you say in a reverent, hushed breath.

“No, you’re perfect. I know I’m your bias and that I always munch on it, but I just don’t get it. Why did you choose me?” he asks in a shaky voice.

“We chose each other,” you whisper as you draw him in close.

“You eat it up,” you moan. “No crumbs left.”

“Oh fuck, let’s make a Fan Cam together,” he moans into your mouth as he captures it in a passionate kiss.

“Anything for you, Skinny Legend,” you rasp.

Mr. Ben clicks a few times on his phone before you hear Sza’s voice low from the speakers. You spread yourself open for him and let yourself sink into the comforting and arousing dulcet sounds of

ᵢₜ’ₛ cᵤffᵢₙg ₛₑₐₛₒₙ

ₐₙd ₐₗₗ ₜₕₑ gᵢᵣₗₛ bₑ ₙₑₑdᵢₙg

ₐ bᵢg bₒy

ᵢ ₙₑₑd ₐ bᵢg bₒy

ᵢ wₐₙₜ ₐ bᵢg bₒy

Gᵢᵥₑ ₘₑ ₐ bᵢg bₒy

tagging everybody that wanted to be tagged in the first one plus a couple of extras

@wannab-urs @gracieispunk @milla-frenchy @patti7dc @lumoverheaven @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @xdaddysprincessxx @toxicanonymity @rubyfruitjungle @huffle-punk @jupiter-soups @swiftispunk @bonezone44 @psychedelic-ink@theywhowriteandknowthings @multiversed-daydreamer @beefrobeefcal @clawdee @criticalarchitecture @katiexpunk @covetyou @sugadolly @koshkaj-blog @obscurexsorrows @elegantduckturtle @kdogreads @pedrit0-pascalit0 @admiralackbarssugarbaby @party-hearses

#kinktober #crackfic #pedro pascal characters