#Roughing the Kicker

[bookstattoosandtea]

Blog Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway: Roughing the Kicker by Rheland Richmond & Emerson Beckett

Blog Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway: Roughing the KickerBy Rheland Richmond & Emerson Beckett The Package Deal Series, Book 6 Do you believe in fate? Yeah, me neither until the sexy Navy SEAL I hooked up with three years ago suddenly reappears back in my life in the form of one of my best friends’ older brother. And now, they want me to share a room with him in the Keys.  “Can you share a room with…

[regular-lord-reckoner]

i’m home !!

procedure went real well, everything was really smooth and almost as soon as they said, “you can count backwards if you want,” i don’t think i even said ten before i was suddenly in recovery and sipping some ginger ale.

honestly the worst part was the iv because they had to do it on the side of my wrist because apparently my veins are crooked ?? i just hate ivs anyway so that’s no surprise but other than that no complaints.

everyone was real nice and made sure i was well taken care of (my nurse even had me pee one more time before so she wouldn’t have to do a catheter which with my history…..thank you)

but yeah, i’ll have a follow up in about a month just to make sure everything’s good and the iud is doing its thing !!

i do have some cramping and bleeding but that’s normal, although a little funny because i literally just stopped my period yesterday but…oh well !! hopefully in a few months i won’t have hardly any so this we can handle and i hace some medicine (and my ~medicine) that’ll help so i’m all set.

mom had to go run some errands so my little recovery buddy is keeping me company. also, a moment of recognition for my new favorite shirt (thank you as always, Boss Dog Art; i’ve already got my eye on another one that says, “i think therefore i am against transphobia around the world” or something like that and it’s got a cool skeleton on it; this is my third shirt from them and they’re really comfy and good quality so not sponsored but check them out, they seem cool):

[moongothic]

It really is sad to look at OP now and see how rough the artwork has gotten-- and I'm not talking about 1098 being unfinished, sketches are sketches and comparing those to finished inks would be absurd

It's that Oda's actual linework has gotten really rough

And it's not his fault, dude's been working on this god forsaken series for so many decades, he can only do as much as his health allows and this is it. That's just how it goes, and it's okay

It's just sad to watch, and going back to old chapters makes it even more painful due to how dropdead gorgeous and clean the linework used to be

Like early OP the artwork was absolutely Too Clean, to the point the art could look quite stiff (though charming still in its own right). But when you get to that 2008-2012 era especially, Oda's linework had gotten plenty looser so it wasn't stiff anymore but at the same time it was so clean and beautiful to look at

Now Oda has the god tier composition and everything else going for him still, the linework is just really rough and messy at times. It's just how life goes. It just makes me sad.

[psychoticwillgraham]

even if my bday is somehow bad, it’ll never be worse than trump getting elected on my 21st bday

[bahablastplz]

Come Play: Chan x Reader

You and Chan are playing a dangerous game of who will break first... and it's not going to be you. CW: Teasing, spanking, choking, hair-pulling, dom! Chan, unprotected sex, rough sex, degradation (use of words like whore and slut), safe words mentioned WC: 2200

You aren’t sure how you got yourself into this mess in the first place. You and your boyfriend were playing a dangerous game, one that neither of you were willing to admit. 

You had only been dating for a few months, sure, but you found yourself overrun with desire just about every time you saw Chan. He, apparently, felt the same way, always pressing searing kisses to your lips and neck. It never went further than that–he wanted to go slow with you, take the time to explore your relationship and all that. 

Gazes became more intense and touches started to linger… then he started smacking your ass. Playfully, of course, whenever you walked by. He giggled at the way your cheeks would flush and the way you wouldn’t look at him. Whenever you decided to return the favor, however, he was faster. He would always catch your hand before you landed a smack onto his perfect ass, much to your dismay. 

You found the perfect opportunity during movie night. He was walking toward you on the couch, his arms full of blankets and various snacks, no way to defend himself… He must have seen the mischievous glint in your eye. “Don’t,” he warned you, but you were already winding up to send a loud, playful smack right to his behind. You erupted into a fit of giggles until you saw the look in his eyes, straight-up predatory. Your blood ran cold and before you knew it you were up and running toward your room, unable to stop your laughter. Chan dropped everything in his hands and ran after you, grabbing you by the waist and slinging you over his shoulder. Perfect, you thought, as you now had direct access to his ass that you playfully smacked a hundred times as he hauled you into your bedroom. What you weren’t expecting was for him to throw you on the bed and drag you over his lap. 

“Chan, what–” 

“You think you’re so funny,” he mocked. You squirmed in his lap, unsure of his intentions but he was quick to splay one large palm on your back, effectively keeping you in place. He grabbed the bottoms of your shorts, hiking them up until your bare ass was on display for him. 

“Wait, Chan, I didn’t mean to–” 

THWACK. 

He landed one very harsh hit straight to the flesh of your cheek causing you to cry out. Well… okay. Maybe you moaned. Loudly. 

He kneads the flesh, soothing it with deft fingers. You don’t have to look at him to see that he’s smirking. You’re just as surprised when he lands a twin smack to the same impacted area. The third one comes just as quickly and before you know it, he’s adjusting your shorts for you and pulling you to your feet. 

“Movie time?” he asked nonchalantly as if that did not just happen. You nod weakly, face scorching hot. If this was a game he was definitely winning. 

*** 

Day 1 of trying to rile up Chan and win… whatever this was. You are much more obvious with your touches, trailing a finger down his muscled chest and blinking at him innocently. The real kicker, however, is when you kneel right in front of him and pull back your hair. He leans back on the couch and spreads his legs, a dangerous look in his eyes before you abruptly stand up. 

“Found it!” you exclaim, holding your phone up for him to see. His jaw clenches, his tongue prodding the inside of his cheek as he smiles tightly. You felt smug and you weren’t afraid to show it, smiling back at him proudly. 

He makes it up to you later when he walks up behind you in the kitchen where you’re cooking dinner. He wraps his arms around your waist and presses up behind you impossibly close where you can feel his bulge pressing into you. You gasp, stilling as he pushes his hips against you; the friction is delicious and you can’t help the breathy sound that escapes your lips, wound up from the past few days. He reaches above you then, grabbing a pan from the cabinet before pulling apart and giving you a saccharine-sweet grin. “Found it,” he mocks. You roll your eyes at him and huff. You are not going to break first.

Over dinner, you moan unabashedly into your food. You’re obnoxious about it, closing your eyes and tilting your head back as you savor the food. Chan is stiff the whole meal, and it probably seals the deal when you reach over and grab his hand, pulling his fingers into your mouth as you suck the sauce from his fingertips. You make sure to let out a little groan around them, even going as far as to swirl your tongue around them and give him an intensely seductive look. 

He laughs nervously, his ears turning crimson. You had the upper hand. 

Next movie night, he pulls you close to his body, cradling you in his arms. His hands stroke up and down your arms, soothing you as you relax into him. You should’ve known it was a facade, however, when he reaches down to pull up your blanket and his thumb brushes over your nipple. He circles over it once, twice, before he finishes pulling the blanket up. “Oops,” he says. If you were relaxed before, you definitely aren’t now. 

The next day you find the most scandalous outfit you can pull from your closet. A thin tank top, no bra, and the shortest little skirt you own with a very pretty yet suggestive pair of panties. The second Chan sees you he tenses and you can already tell the outfit has the desired effect, but you decide to push it even further, dropping your wallet right in front of him and bending down to pick it up. You’re slow, deliberate, and you can feel his gaze on you. You give him a perfect view of your panties and you even wiggle your ass, taunting him. Then just as fast you pick up the dropped item as if nothing had happened. 

His hand stays on your thigh all night. You’re not sure how much longer you can keep up this act, every little touch making all of your nerves stand on end. He squeezes your thigh, rubbing circles against the flesh as his fingers trail up, up, up… He toys with the bottom of your panties, his fingers playing sensually with the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You barely breathe. 

God this game is progressing at an alarming rate… But you have an ace up your sleeve. 

Time for another movie night that is sure to go mostly unwatched, the tension palpable between you two. 

“Can we cuddle?” you ask. It’s innocent enough. He sees no wrong with your suggestion despite the way his brows furrow and he tries to read between the lines. And so he pulls you close to his chest and wraps an arm around your torso. You can feel the heat of his breath on your neck as he presses play on the film… you didn’t even catch the name of it. 

Because it takes all of five minutes for you to wiggle your ass against his front, intentional about the way you brush against the bulge in his pants. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, voice low. Your heart rate increases tenfold and you can’t help the giddy smile on your face. 

“Getting comfy,” you explain. You squirm even more and you feel his hand grasp even harder against your torso, trying to hold you in place. You can feel his length harden behind you and you grind against it, grind, grind, grind… 

“Fuck this,” he says abruptly, throwing the blanket off of you. He grabs your hair and drags you to the end of the couch, bending you over it. “Here I was, trying to be a gentleman… wanted to be nice and gentle for our first time… but you had to be a brat, play these mind games with me, yeah?” He grabs your shorts and panties and pulls them down your legs in one swift blow, leaving you exposed to him. 

“You started it,” you remind him. “Had to… bend me over and spank me like it was nothing.” 

“Was trying to show you what happens when you misbehave… Obviously you missed that memo.” He slides his fingers through your folds, not surprised to see you’re soaking wet. He reaches his hand around your front and pushes his fingers past your lips, making you taste yourself. He’s a little harsh, pushing his fingers back a little further than necessary. 

“You liked it,” you accuse. “You tried to one-up me every time.” He lands a harsh slap to your ass and you moan, burying your head into the couch. He grabs your neck, pulling you up until your back is pressed up against his chest. 

“I’ll make you regret it,” he whispers into your ear. “I’m not going to go easy on you, and when I pound into your tight little pussy you’ll wish we never played this game. Safeword is… uh, pineapple, yeah?” 

You nod at him and he lets go of your throat, allowing you to fall forward once again. You hear the sound of him unbuckling his belt and the notable thunk of fabric hitting the floor. He pushes forward until his length is sliding against your core, his thick tip teasing your clit with each thrust. It feels incredible… the days and weeks of tension more than worth it for this outcome. 

His tip catches at your entrance and he begins to push in, slamming his hips into yours. He bottoms out immediately, easy thanks to your dripping arousal, and god you swear you can feel him in your guts. 

“Big,” you mumble. 

“You can take it,” he snaps. “Don’t try to back out now when you’ve been teasing me like a little slut all week.” You moan at that, clenching around him at his words. One large hand spreads across your lower back, pushing you further into the couch. He pulls out slowly and you can feel inch by agonizing inch of his length as he drags his cock along your walls before he slams back into you just as hard, causing you to cry out. 

Before you know it his hands are on your hips, bruising tight as he uses you for leverage to snap his cock relentlessly into your hips. The pace he sets is absolutely brutal and mind-numbing, and you can’t help the spew of cries and nonsense that falls past your lips. You beg him, though you’re not sure for what. Reprieve? No, you certainly didn’t want that. 

He uses your body for his pleasure. You’re not even sure your feet are touching the floor with the speed and strength that he pounds into you with. You’re blabbering and you’ve never felt so good, his length reaching parts of you that have never been touched before. Your clit rubs deliciously on the arm of the couch and the sensations are almost overstimulating but a new level of pleasure you didn’t know existed. 

You arch your back and try to turn your head to look at him but his eyes grow so dark your breath catches in your throat. You aren’t expecting for him to lift one leg up, pinning your head down to the couch with a socked foot as he resumes the brutal pace. 

SMACK. 

One hit to your ass has you clenching around him as you let out a noise that is straight-up pornagraphic. “That’s for licking my fingers and moaning like a whore.” 

SMACK.

“That’s for that slutty little outfit you wore.” His pace quickens, and how is that even possible? He’s already breaking records for how fast his hips are pistoning into yours. 

SMACK. 

This one is the hardest yet and he follows it by grabbing the sensitive flesh hard. “And this, this is for that little display on the couch. Grinding your hips into me like you’re so desperate for my cock.” 

Your orgasm hits you like a freight-train. You all but scream as you come undone around him, spasming and pulsing around his cock and yelling his name like it's a mantra. He fucks you right through it past the point of sensitivity and he’s quiet now, thrusting into you only a handful of times before he slows, pushing himself as deep into you as he can go and grinding into your sopping core as he releases. You feel every pulse and twitch of his cock before you’re flooded with his hot cum and god it feels like he’s spilling buckets inside of you, his orgasm seeming to last a full minute. 

When he pulls out of you you both release a content sigh before he picks you up and carries you to the shower. 

“Was I too rough?” he asks, suddenly shy as his ears go red. It’s cute, the way he can spew utter filth into your ears and fuck you like it’s your last day alive before turning into a blushing, sheepish mess. 

“No,” you reassure him. “In all honesty that’s the exact outcome I wanted.” He laughs at that, turning on the stream of water as he helps you to your feet, washing your body for you. 

“I promise next time… geez, that’s really not how I expected our first time to go, you minx!” he interrupts himself with a fit of giggles. “Next time I’ll really do it right.” He kisses your neck and you hum into him. 

“Does this mean I won the game?” 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

a/n: yes i still plan on releasing that omegaverse fic but it's a long one and this inspiration hit me like a truck <3

masterlist

[anthotneystark]

Well, if you're rough and ready for love (Honey, I'm tougher than the rest)

(edit: now on ao3!)

Eddie is suffering.

It’s hardly the first time, but it’s self-inflicted this time. At least it’s not going to physically almost kill him like the bats did.

Emotionally, sure, but not physically. That has to be some kind of win.

“Did you get Vecna’d? Do I have to get my trumpet? I don’t know if you can play Metallica on a horn, but I’ll try if you need me to.”

“Buckley, I would pay money to see you attempt it,” he says absently, his gaze never moving.

“Good, I could use the bonus.”

“Probably a good time to say I’ve only got Monopoly money.”

“Damn, there goes that plan.”

He hums an agreement, startling a moment later when a hand is suddenly blocking his view.

“Stop drooling, it’s not attractive.”

“Nothing about me is attractive to you.”

“Fair, but still. Ew,” she snorts.

“It’s not my fault, I can’t help it. He’s just so….” He doesn’t even have a word for it, so he just sighs.

“Who would have thought. Mr. Anti-Conformity drooling over Jock Extraordinaire. He’s wearing pastels. What have you become?”

“Shut up, he’s your platonic soulmate.”

“He is. And I love him. I just also know that he’s all sporty and preppy.”

“He can be as sporty as he wants as long as he keeps wearing those shorts he had on the other day.”

“Gross.”

“Even you can admit he looked good.”

“Sure, but you’re drooling again.”

He should be allowed a little drool. Steve had looked so biteable.

“He’s not even wearing shorts today, it’s too cold for that, doofus.” It was. Summer had well and truly turned into fall. Shorts had been replaced by jeans (except on the days Steve and Lucas played basketball, then the shorts came back out), polos more often than not were exchanged for sweaters, and by god, it was kissing him even more than the shorts and tank tops of summer had.

(This is without even considering the extreme number of shirts that Steve had sacrificed to become half shirts “for more air flow, because I can’t just walk around shirtless, obviously.” Because it was obvious. Showing his chest was too much, but the soft skin of his stomach, interrupted by the trail of dark hair vanishing under his waist band, wasn’t too much. Obviously.)

It made no sense. It shouldn’t have been worse with less skin showing. But it was because somehow, knowing that the soft knit of those sweaters was covering slowly paling skin, strong muscles and that beautiful, amazing layer of softness that rounded out hard edges…well, it completely ruined his train of thought until he couldn’t remember where he’d been going originally.

Worth it, just getting to imagine how Steve looked under his clothes.

“He’s worn this stuff before, why does it have you in a coma today?” Robin sighs, put upon even though it was her decision to sit with him.

“His hair.” Because that was the kicker today. Because Steve Harrington had never walked outside looking less than completely perfect.

Because Steve somehow managed to look amazing even roughed up and dirty.

Because Stevie was comfortable with himself and picked the clothes he liked and didn’t bother hiding scars that only proved how far he’d be willing to go to protect his loved ones and didn’t care about if he didn’t look perfect.

“He didn’t style it.”

“I can see how you’d get that impression, but I assure you he did.”

“What?!” That makes Eddie finally look at her, nearly falling over where he’s sat.

“Yeah. It’s just not hairspray. He’s trying something new.”

“It works for him.” The response is automatic. Because it’s true. Because poofed up and closer to god could only work on someone as pretty as Steve, and gunked up and water-logged could only work on someone as pretty as Steve, and bedhead could only look that good on someone as pretty as Steve.

Steve is just. So pretty.

But today, today it’s not firmly in place, soft even if it’s not going to move from it’s position. Today it’s not slicked back with water as he pops up from under it to splash one of the kids. Today it’s not half flat from where he slept on it, the same side he’ll leave pressed into Eddie’s shoulder if he’s not quite ready to start the day.

Today, it’s soft, curling around his ears, over his forehead, fluttering in the wind. It’s not the same kind of curly that his own hair is, the chaotic kind that if he tried to brush it, it’d eat the brush. It’s gentler, and he desperately wants to touch it.

“Seriously, I’m worried about your brain right now.”

“My brain is fine.”

“Close your mouth then.” Well, that’s embarrassing. He tosses a glare at her, and it’s just enough time to miss Steve heading their way. He does fall over where he’s sitting this time, but it’s so worth it because it makes Steve laugh.

He’d do an embarrassing amount of things to hear that laugh.

“You okay?” Steve asks, looking so fond and amused at Eddie’s antics that it makes his heart skip a beat.

It’s still surprising, having that look aimed at him, getting it from Steve.

“Fear not, Sir Stevington, I will survive,” he says, pushing himself up dramatically. Steve’s eyes crinkle as he snorts another laugh, and they both ignore Robin quietly bleching.

“Yeah? Good. I’d hate to see you get through everything just to get taken out by your own theatrics,” Steve says. Eddie doesn’t even have time to react – Steve’s smiling and that always slows him down – when his gorgeous, beautiful friend pulls off that pale green sweater and presses it into Eddie’s hands.

“Don’t get cold on me, alright? I saw you shivering,” he says, like he hasn’t just ruffled his own hair once more and completely distracted all of Eddie’s thoughts in the blink of an eye.

And then he’s gone, off to give another attempt at skateboarding (trying to follow Max’s instructions and letting her laugh at him when she hears him fall before she does whatever trick it is perfectly even without her sight), and Eddie is left standing there, watching that perfect, broad back covered by a too tight tee shirt.

“This is a whole new level of pathetic, I think.”

“Shup it,” Eddie says, then freezes, feels her shit-eating grin growing. “Shut up!” He groans.

She can laugh all she wants, he decides, pulling Steve’s sweater over his head. It’s warm with his body heat, smells like his soap and his cologne and him.

She can laugh, he’s got a beautiful boy to watch, one who looks at him with a promise of what’s to come, when the time is right.

[koralcove]

okay, but like... the thought of sylus and xavier of how they generally are in bed... like, i think some ppl get them swapped up, coz like...

everyone's saying that sylus is such a beast in bed and would absolutely demolish you until your legs feel like you'd need to go through physical therapy to walk again... and they're absolutely right.

BUT

i also hear those who say that sylus is an absolutely soft and sensual lover in bed, and honestly, that version speaks TRUTH. because, HAVE YOU SEEN THAT MAN WITH US?! the way his character progresses with becoming absolutely, indescribably, adoringly soft with us. the big bad, dark and mysterious, cold-blooded, ruthless leader of onychinus is willing to do things out of his element just because we think it's fun. you want matching cute onesies? he's already purchased a pair for us. you want to go take silly photos together and hang out in an amusement park where he could be publicly seen doing mundane and questionably harmless activities that personally don't look like it suits his style? if that's what you want, then he's not opposed to it.

that man is absolutely soft with us, and you can't tell me that he wouldn't prefer to make sweet, deep, lovin' with his darling. the way he'd want to be pressed impossibly close to you, your body so soft against him, taking every bit of effort to not rush into this intimate moment with you because he wants to feel every inch of your skin tracing on his fingertips. he wants to prolong the sensation of your warmth radiating to him, shushing your whines with his deep baritones of, "there there, sweetie. no need to rush, i'm not going anywhere," always with that teasing lilt in his voice, but it can't cover up the adoration spilling out of him.

and god, he'd be gentle with you. he knows you can take what he gives you, knows what you're capable of. but damn, he couldn't resist giving you all that gentle devotion because you're just so precious to him. and through all the rough edges of his living, he wants to give you something tender. wants to bare how putty you make him just from your presence alone. he doesn't think of it as a weakness. in fact, it fuels his fire of making sure to stake his claim on you properly by giving you all you deserve. and he always sets the pace. wants you to feel how absolutely weak-kneed you make him in an imitation of his light touches that set small sparks of desire on your skin, pressing searing kisses on you as an invisible brand until he finally gives in to the lust gnawing at him, but making sure to always, always, be careful with you.

and then, there's xavier...

xavier with his cherub-like features that you think can do no harm if you didn't know him well enough. with how he looks like a constantly clueless puppy that you can easily please with the temptation of a nap time, you'd think he'd be the type to go with some lazy, intimate love making with you while you're both half-awake... which is not wrong, really, but that's just the tip of the iceberg.

as someone who goes with the flow, xavier is not opposed to anything you would suggest, even if the idea itself seems outlandish, then that boy is down (just like how down bad he is for you). you wanna be on top? cool, no problem with him being the pillow princess. you want him to take you from behind? he'll give you an absolutely mind-blowing back shot. but the kicker with xavier is that he's an absolute FREAK (we talkin' abt neck-breaking freaky deaky shit), and i love how everyone collectively agrees on that. because there's just smth abt a man who appears so unbothered by a lot of things, always cool in faces of plight (and girl, his heartbeat is literally slow, does nothing ever faze him???) that the thought of him going wild is just a big ol' WOWZA. AND PAIRED WITH THAT INNOCENT LI'L PUPPY FACE OF HIS?! oh honey, i'm already unzipping your pants for you-

and honey, his strength... his stamina?! girl, he be the kind to go at it alllll night. "once isn't enough" ALREADY SAYS A LOT. and that man is not shy at all, because you can't tell me that he whispers absolute filth in your ear, catching you off guard at how uncharacteristic it seems of him, but it flows so smoothly through his tongue that you just have to wonder what kind of thoughts run through his head when he's with you, because rn, as he's pounding you silly against the mattress, hips pistoning into you at lightning speed, yet still hitting oh so deep into you, he's absolutely insatiable for you. and he would not hesitate to go all out on you as long as he knows you can handle it. because he knows it can be too much. but when he sees those tears streaming down your cheeks from how good his dick is at making you see stars, shaking under him as you grip onto his arm, he couldn't resist with bullying your poor overstimulated body and getting an orgasm out of you just one more time out of... maybe three? seven? he's lost count.

but don't get me wrong, xavier is still the type to be skin-achingly intimate with you. loves how you're pressed against him as you both lazily rock your hips against one another. but it just so happens that he's a absolutely ravenous with you as well, rutting into you like a bunny in heat.

with sylus, love making with him is tender, reverent, but never losing that intensity, while xavier is absolutely uninhibited and would even lose track of the amount of times you've already cummed for him.

[burreauxsworld]

Can we get dad Joe where he has five boys all mini him and wife is pregnant with baby girl🌸

This is such a vastly different thing for me to write because I imagine Joe being the biggest girl dad but I’m gonna give it a shot!

~~~

The Burrow household is nothing short of chaos. A controlled chaos though. The kind of chaos that brings a smile to your face as you watch your four rambunctious little boys run around. You and your husband, Joe, have 4 little boys and a little girl on the way.

There’s Jackson and Joseph Jr, the twins and the two oldest at 7 years old. Then there’s Dylan, who’s 5. Lastly, Colby, who’s 3. All of them are carbon copies of your husband. With their big ocean blue eyes and curly dirty blonde hair.

Jackson, like Joe, is big into football. The two of them throw the ball back and forth for hours. Joseph on the other hand, is more of a mama’s boy. Just like his father before him. Whenever you went, little Joey went. Whenever Joe went, Jackson wasn’t far behind. The two little ones, however, could go either way. Sometimes they wanted you, sometimes they wanted Joe. It just depended on the day.

Today, it was the latter. You leaned against the door frame of the sliding glass doors leading to your backyard, watching as your husband and four boys played a game of football. Well, Colby attempted to play, but he mostly just stumbled around the yard messing with whatever random toys he could find.

A smile graced your lips as you watched your husband show his boys how to throw the perfect spiral. You laid a gentle hand on your baby bump, glancing down.

“Be prepared. This is your life” you mumble, looking back up at your boys. “Mama,” Colby babbles, while he stumbles toward you. “Mommy’s home!” Dylan tells, capturing the attention of his brothers and father. “And she brought dinner, because she doesn’t feel like cooking” you tell them, as little arms wrap around your lower half.

“Alright boys, careful. Don’t be too rough” Joe reminds them, planting a kiss on your forehead while the boys ran toward the kitchen table.

“How’s baby Gracie?” He asks with a smile. “Very active today. I think she might be the bengals newest kicker” you joke and he beams with pride. One thing Joe couldn’t wait for, was the arrival of his little girl.

[ghostaholics]

18+ thought, but the potential of an enemies-with-benefits with simon where it starts off because they're both keyed up, emotions running high, and they need to release post-mission frustration because they blame each for everything that went wrong (a major bone of contention is that nobody can admit their mistakes, even though they were both at fault); and here's the kicker: the sex is good, so good that he prefers this outlet to the verbal altercations that she and him always seem to get into that never lead to anything productive

they tell themselves that the first time was a one-off, that it should not, will not happen again because they absolutely detest each other and it was just a heat of the moment thing—until it does once more, twice, and so forth

always rough, desperate, 'we-almost-died' and 'I-still-fucking-despise-you, but-thanks-for-saving-my-life' hatesex; better than smoking through cartons of cigs, better than finding the bottom of a bottle of whiskey (a habit, a vice, a dirty little secret that neither of them want to address but this is how they cope)

an 'i-know-you'll-put-up-with-my-shite' mentality shared between them:

kicking each other out of bed about 0.02 seconds after they're done fucking

ruined orgasms and lots of denial

leaving bite marks/bruises in obvious places (that aren't impossible to cover up, but are sure as hell inconvenient) because both of them know that they just can

simon dragging her away from 'sort of, but not really' important tasks/duties to which she repays in kind by sending him inappropriate texts right at the start of a 2-hour meeting with price and all of their other superiors, and then a goddamn picture only 15 minutes in (earns her the punishment of a lifetime, rightfully so)

he calls her 'sweetheart' or 'princess' patronizingly; she says 'lieutenant' or 'sir' with absolute spite in her voice

big rule about no kissing, though oral is fair game; whatever this is between them is not sweet or romantic and the only things binding them are physical attraction and palpable hatred—it's all red angry nail marks raked down his back and fingerprint-shaped bruises tattooed into her skin, hair-pulling, debauchery, and using each other in general

[bookstattoosandtea]

Release Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway: Roughing the Kicker by Rheland Richmond & Emerson Beckett

Release Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway: Roughing the KickerBy Rheland Richmond & Emerson Beckett The Package Deal Series, Book 6 Do you believe in fate? Yeah, me neither until the sexy Navy SEAL I hooked up with three years ago suddenly reappears back in my life in the form of one of my best friends’ older brother. And now, they want me to share a room with him in the Keys. “Can you share a room with…

[love-minor-poltergeist]

A/N: I've only known this man for roughly a week and I want to pour milk on him and violently throw him against the wall (lovingly). While I'm not known to write for horror media, let alone for a franchise as brutal as Outlast, but I've been quite captivated by the Outlast Trials since the July 16th update. Because of course I would fixate on the hyperviolent mafioso with extreme mommy issues. _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):_

General Franco Barbi Headcanons

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

Loathe as he is to admit—  that is if he’s willing to acknowledge it— Franco and his father are far more alike than one would think. Both men share the same hair-trigger temper, a fondness for collecting artisan firearms, tastes in women… And who could forget that sailor’s mouth? 

Hell, prior to his exile, it became something of a running joke between the triggermen of the Barbi family. The minute they hear Franco and Don Barbi’s shared “FUCK”/“CAZZO”, they share a knowing look amongst themselves. Like father, like son.

Of course, they also take it as a warning to keep their heads down and quietly pray that lupara isn’t pointed their way.

His birth mother was killed long before he could even remember her. No one dared utter it aloud, but he knew why. He would’ve been downright stupid to think it was because of anything other than how he came out. Ugly. Malformed. Hell, his father certainly made it clear how he felt about his defective son whenever he got mad; and Franco’s got the scars to show it.

However, during one of Don Barbi’s infamous bouts of rage– fueled by alcohol and his ever-growing frustration over Franco’s reckless spree killings– he had let it slip that Franco resembled his late wife far more than he was comfortable with. 

Dark eyes– cold and vast like the deepest parts of the sea– regarded the crumpled form beneath him. Franco couldn’t have been more than seventeen or eighteen then. He had just gotten back from a hit. Some rat bastard from another crime family; a lowly racketeer who thought he was hot shit. At least he did until he was filled with hot lead from lupara. Only thing was— his father just wanted the intended man dead. It was a simple request. And what did his ugly shithead fuck of a son do? Franco ends up massacring the whole bar he had tracked the man down to. Staff, patrons, and a band of musicians that were unluckily set to perform that night— a whopping thirteen other people on top of the measly single target the Don wanted. And the real fucking kicker? That very bar– dinky as it was– was under Barbi family protection. And they had paid handsomely for their services. 

All hell broke loose once Franco came home. The minute he stepped foot in his father’s office, the world became a blur of violent shouting and spat expletives. The walls and furniture shook with each slam as the Don punched and kicked at the younger man. Franco had tried to fight back, getting in a few nasty hits himself, but it was clear his father easily overpowered him. In a matter of minutes, his vision and lungs grew wet with blood. Everything hurt, and all young Franco could do was fight for air.

“You had one job, boy. One. Yet I find that we lost a paying customer— one that we’re supposed to protect. Making me look like the asshole for not keeping my word.” 

The older man crouched down, yanking Franco by the little patches of hair he had. The Don was baring his teeth now, eyes boring holes into his son. 

“You’re even lucky I let you live, you miserable waste of spunk,” he pulled harder on Franco’s hair, ignoring the latter’s grunt of pain. “I could have killed you in your crib. I should have.” 

He accentuated each word with a rough yank, and a particularly pathetic pained moan from Franco only made the Don slam his head into the floor. Hot, sticky crimson coated his broad fingers, and he regarded the now weeping visage of his son with disdain; as if he had found a piece of gum stuck to his shoe. A pregnant silence fell between the two. Nothing but the faint sounds of breathing filled the air. 

Then the Don spoke once more.

“Even now, you look just like your mother. Useless, bloodied, and soft.”

Don Barbi never did talk about his first wife again after that incident. Not that Franco ever cared. He never knew her. Though, he did faintly hear from a few of his father’s older associates that he shared his mother’s eyes, or that he had the same hair as her. One man even said that had Franco been born normal, he would’ve been the spitting image of her. 

Said man was later found in the alley between a bar and sundry store. Discarded within a dumpster and body absolutely mangled. 

Once, when he was around maybe ten years old or so, his father had tried to take him to the dentist in order to get braces. Something to fix up those “broken piano keys” he had, as his father put it. Franco didn’t even last a half hour before a capo had to come pick him up because the boy went and bit the finger clean off of the poor dental assistant that tried to get him ready. 

He has some breathing problems, going off what could be heard within the trials. If he’s not yapping off, he could be heard heavily panting and straining to catch his breath. It’s nowhere near bad enough to be considered asthmatic, but Franco’s definitely not winning any marathons, that’s for sure. Not that his little baby legs would let him-

Absolutely refuses to drink anything that isn’t sweet enough to send a bear into a diabetic coma. If he doesn’t have his thermos of wolf’s milk on him, he’s dumping a whole bowl’s worth of sugar into whatever’s given to him. He doesn’t care if it's already been sweetened. He needs it sweeter.

Murkoff’s budgeting department is at their wit’s end and it is absolutely Franco’s fault. Does he care? Of course not. He deserves nice things and it’s a travesty that someone of his status is forced to live in squalor. About a week after he’s been taken to Sinyala, a special budget ends up being put aside for him. He goes over said budget every time. No, he won’t stop, either. He is a luxury that few could afford.

The first thing he demanded for his living space was the fanciest phonogram Murkoff could get and some records. He didn’t particularly like juke boxes– he thought them too flashy and that they usually played the same boring tunes. Usually if you walk by his containment unit, you'd hear the rich, dulcet tones of Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, and the occasional Engelbert Humperdinck.

Don’t ever take him to the beach for too long. He usually forgets to put on sunscreen and ends up sunburnt at the end of the day. It’s one of the few things he doesn’t miss about Miami/Cuba. 

Small dogs hate him. His stepmom Angelina owned a few pomeranians. He and the little bastards never got along. It wasn’t all too uncommon to walk in on him telling one of them to fuck off whenever they bit at the pant leg of his suit. He’s held a vendetta against all tiny dogs ever since. 

While he may not look like it, he’s quite fond of the ocean. He enjoyed the boat rides he took to and from Cuba, and would occasionally fish if time was passing by a bit slow. Though he didn’t do it very often thanks to bastardly seagulls and pelicans trying to bully him for whatever he caught. 

Would probably own an aquarium of tropical fish if Murkoff trusted any of their test subjects with a living thing under their care. When he was younger, Franco’s father had an associate who owned a giant tank full of brightly-colored tetras, cherry barbs, and guppies. And while his dad sat through boring talks, Franco would usually watch the little things dart around in the water.

Speaking of, he’s particularly fond of ranchu goldfish. Mostly because, in his words, “they’re ugly little fuckers”.  Franco means this lovingly, of course. 

╚═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╝

[southparktexts]

haiii !! could you maybe write headcannons with stan, kyle and kenny and how it is to sleep with them in one bed (as partners) if you havent written it before?? like, do they kick or talk in their sleep for example😭😭 and alsooo some cuddling in bed headcannons would be nice but remember that you don't have to write it if you don't want to !! im such a sucker for psychical touch sorryyyys

hii sweetheart !! id love too !!

The Main 3 Sleeping w/ Reader

kyle ;

- i can see him being the cuddling type

- he loves pillow talking with you

- i can see kyle as a big spoon, sometimes a little spoon when he’s stressed

- if you’re extremely tired he will definitely hold you in his arms and whisper sweet things into your ear.

“you did so well today.”

“im so proud of you.”

- if you’re really sleepy and hes busy, he’ll drop everything to tuck you in.

- he’s a sleep mumbler !! ironic right?

- one time you heard him mumble about how he loves you and then switched to beating up cartman..

- he doesn’t mind sharing the bed with you and actually prefers it

- makes him feel safe and secure.

- also i can’t see him snoring either

- … is that weird?

- like he sleeps with soft breaths not snoring.

- but to make up for it, he yawns loudly.

- kisses your forehead a lot !!

stan ;

-little spoon most of the time until he isn’t feeling it

- i can see him and you have your own sides of the bed.

- the most affectionate thing he will do is wrap his arms around your neck and wrap his legs around you.

- only when he feels like it through

- unlike stan he kinda minds sharing his bed with you, but only a little bit.

- he likes your presence but sometimes he doesn’t its on and off sometimes.

- by on and off i mean one minute he likes it then another he doesn’t.

- and that can all happen within 2 minutes..

- stan’s a kicker

- not a rough kicker

- a soft gentle one

- he snores

- not a loud snorer like his father

- like a steady quiet snorer

- like the volume that you can only hear in a quiet room.

- definitely a sleep talker

- he also likes pillow talk a lot for some reason.

- but only when hes in the mood for pillow talk.

- the most affectionate thing you’ll get out of him as well is an ‘i love you’

kenny ;

- okay, kenny is a 50/50 between big and little spoon

- like on one hand, he likes being held and having his hair played with.

- but on the other he wants to bury his head into you and hold you for the rest of eternity.

- he definitely doesn’t mind sharing beds with you, it makes his nights better.

- ive said this before but he loves sleepy you.

- he likes asking you questions when you’re sleeping.

- hearing your little hums to every question

“do you love me?”

“mhm..”

“do you want me to stay?”

“mmmhm..”

- hear me out, he’s a drooler

- drooling on pillows in his sleep.

- also a loud snorer, like his father

- i can see him being mix between sleeping talking and mumbling.

- loves playing with you’re hair when you can’t sleep or even whispering to you

“you’re so gorgeous..”

“all mine..”

- forehead kisser as well as a neck kisser

reqs are open !! <3

[winterdaphne2]

okay so I'm re-reading the original ACD Sherlock Holmes stories for the first time in years, and I have to talk about "The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor." Holmes takes a case that centers around a couple who live a rough, dangerous life together and fall in love, but then have to part because of reasons beyond their control. The husband goes off on his own to complete a task that will allow him to return to his beloved, but then gets captured. He escapes and tries to return to his wife, but by that point she's believed him dead for more than a year. He follows her to London, only to find out that she's about to marry someone else. But now here's the real kicker: when he approaches her and she catches sight of him and realizes that he's still alive, she immediately decides to leave her new fiancé for her first, true love.

Also, Holmes doesn't think the wife did anything wrong by leaving her new lover for her first husband.

Ugh. It's like Moftiss truly just lifted this plotline and embedded it into TRF and TEH, but obviously with John making the opposite decision from the wife in the ACD story.

The story literally ends with Holmes saying to Watson that they should "thank our stars that we are never likely to find ourselves in the same position." (Holmes is talking about the position of the second man whom the wife left, but still.) That hurt.

[rhysazriel]

Hey i don’t know if you are taking requests but your series Smoke & light brought me this idea.

Reader has a crush on azriel and literally everyone know that and she isn’t ashamed that they do. But then she hears how cass ask az why he isn’t acting on it and he says that he will never touch reader and cass should know that azriel prefers to do it differently and reader isn’t cut out for it. Thats why he also mostly pays for it because then the women know what they got themselves into. Reader hears that and wants to prove to azriel that she can be with him, so she goes to one of the pleasure halls and wants to learn there. When azriel hears that from nesta he goes mad and burts into the room where reader is. Well what happens in that room can be up to your imagination 🙈

GIRL ARE WE SHARING THE SAME BRAIN!???

I literally have a rough draft outline for a pleasure hall smut where Az frequents because he likes things a little darker than most hehehe so he always requests you, but the kicker is that everyone is glamoured within the walls of a pleasure hall, and your hook ups have been going on for months, without realising you’re both sleeping with each other 🫣

[nburkhardt]

Somebody Loves You, You Got A Friend.

Hello! This is my abo teenage parents steddie fic I talked about a few times. Wrote it a while ago for myself, never felt quite confident for sharing. But after sharing the few snippets, here’s the start! There’s real no end to it, it’s mostly slice of life with nearly no real plot. (Title is from Spaceship by Andy Grammer)

Some info you should know: it takes place in season 2. Originally wasn’t going to include the upside down but switched it to have it. ANYWAY, enjoy the start! It’s mostly Steve angst and only a hint of Eddie lol.

So, here’s the thing… Steve never keep his secondary gender a secret. In fact, he was quite proud of it. Mostly because it pisses his dad off to no end, and well, pissing off his dad is one of his and his mom’s favorite past time.

With that said he was definitely proud to take after his mom and for being a male omega. He knows it probably pisses more people off than they let on and really, that makes his fucking day.

Sometime around the time he entered high school, his status went sky high. He didn’t mind, though finding true friends was rough. Especially when Tommy and Carol glued themselves to him within a few hours of knowing him. Since he didn’t keep his omega status a secret, they thought he was weaker and needed to be protected. With Tommy being an alpha and Carol a beta, they decided to be best friends. It pissed him off, but at the time he didn’t have many friends. But of course, he’s not weak. He knows how to protect himself and even others.

His life gets flipped upside down, shortly after Nancy Wheeler calls him ‘bullshit’ in a bathroom at a dumb Halloween party.

It’s been months since Will Byers disappeared, thought dead and found alive. Also months since Nancy’s best friend fucking died while sitting at his pool. All while he and Nancy were in bed, they only found out in the next morning at school.

Nancy’s words send him spiraling down immediately, because unlike her, he does or did love her. So in a blind panic, he leaves the room and then the house and straight into the forest behind. Freaking out and sobbing as he went.

He didn’t know how long he was there, all he remembers of the night is panicking and then someone that smells of smoke, rain and freshly cut grass, helps him to his car and on his way. With only a matchbook with a number on it sitting on his passenger seat as who helped him.

In the morning, he gets ready for school, kisses his mom on the cheek and goes on his way. Only pocketing the matchbook as he parks in the school parking lot.

The day is simple only because he avoids Nancy as much as he can and then nearly get his ass handed to him by the new big alpha in town, Billy Hargrove.

“Should plant your feet, pretty boy”

He rolls his eyes, “shove the fuck off, Hargrove”

Billy is about to do another shove, he can’t figure out why to be honest. His scent is currently covered by scent blockers, the one thing his mom told him to take. When he notices Nancy waving him down, so he goes willingly to that danger instead.

It’s nothing but anger from her, it’s rolling off her in her scent even with a blocker, “Why didn’t you pick me up?”

He scruffs, “because I’m apparently bullshit?”

She at least flinches at that. But doesn’t apologize, at least, not the way he’d like. She does try to excuse it all by saying she was drunk and if there is one thing he took to heart from his asshole dad; drunk words are sober thoughts.

The final kicker of the whole conversation: her not saying “I love you” after he pleads her to.

He decides after that, Nancy Wheeler is someone he refuses to be with.

—

If you made it this far great!! Because after this the real fun begins 🥳 meaning Eddie is actually there and you get to meet my favorite person, Janet Harrington… Steve’s mom! This was just getting things mostly set up. I hope it doesn’t seem too weird with jumping around or weird phrasing lol.

(Btw, I don’t necessarily keep to everything everyone does in abo fics. I go with whatever I like and easy to work with. So there’s scents, mates, pack easy things. Nothing too explicit either, I’m definitely not confident enough to post smut hahaha.) OH AND IF YOU HAVE QUESTIONS OR WANNA TALK ABOUT THIS AU MY MESSAGES AND ASK BOX IS ALWAYS OPEN!!!!!

Permanent Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @itsfreakingbats @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay

Also those who liked my snippet: @zerokrox-blog @callme-keys @maya-custodios-dionach @rajumat @yellowdevilkitten @munsonfamilyband @steddierthings

[osaka-lilac]

can you recommend any good lance posts or fic to read?

oh. oh. oh boy do i have some fic recs for YOU

if anyone who sees this has other recommendations, please feel free to respond in the tags or in the replies! hope you enjoy - and welcome to lance nation!!!!

(i will try to keep it not just a strollonso fic rec list, yes they're my main but i don't want to give a biased list to the masses. this is a lance fic list, not just strollonso.)

so. without further ado...

allie's lance fic recs (in no particular order)

steak and other strange situations | lance/yuki | G | @lil-shiro

-> bet you didn't expect a rare pair ship as my first recommendation, huh? frankly i love the characterization that ann has utilized here - just a guy that wants to get to know people. simple yet effective!

gone before sunrise | lance/fernando | E | zeolyte

-> oogh this one is a real kicker. i couldn't tell you why my stomach churns while reading the middle of this piece. you can really feel for lance in this one and yes it does end happy (as most if not all of the fics in here will have in common with), but if you are okay with explicit material, this is a must read.

baby hotline (please hold me close to you) | lance/esteban/mick | T | @shovson

-> woohoo my ot3!!!! we dont get to see a lot of this pairing per se, but we get a lot of seb & lance running the iconic baby hotline, an advice service lance starts to help others with anything they need, like mick and estie once did for him. lovely cameos from multiple drivers.

press enter and send it | lance/esteban | E | gothic_sevgilim

-> HOO BABY is this one HOT. office au in which lance is the sassy trainee of esteban, a minor manager at lance's father's company. the tension in here is NUTS man

between your collar and your jaw | lance/sebastian | E | @hurricane-heatt

-> if you know me you know how much i fuck with cowboys. THEN you should by association know that i would never pass up a cowboy au. THIS is what a cowboy au should look like. passionate, yet leaves you in a cloud of dust by the side of the dirt road, knowing you'll never see this man and his steed again.

clerestory | pierre/charles with a side of lance/fernando | E | @nobrakesdown

-> woah. i thought this was a lance fic list?? this is our wildcard for the list. lance only appears in this fic as a historical figure in the wild royal mystery pierre is studying as he heals from an injury after a major crash. frankly i just wanted to add this one because it genuinely is one of my favorite fics on the site and since it vaguely has lance in it, i will be including it

never too soon | lance/george | G | @userkritaaay

-> stressed unstoppable force george meets relaxed immovable object lance. this is just lance and george suffering together after singapore 2023. delightful

you're my fucking hero: the critic's review | lance/fernando | M | me. i wrote this

-> finally, who would i be on this site without a bit of self promo. the love labor of @no00000000's wonderful dirtbag au, in which lance learns to live and pursue his own passions after a run in with a rough criminal, fernando. it is formatted as a movie review for a hypothetical movie, inspired by the essays i would write while in my history of film course years ago.