#box of crazy tubes

[sandinthepipes]

I got a bit crazy and manic and in 5 days I built 2 low flutes and a tagelharpa cello with no prior knowledge on how to build any instrument.

The crush has come.

My body aches all over, my right arm is about to fall off, I don't think I can hold a pen for the next week, I'm overwhelmed and tired, there's sawdust and chipped wood everywhere, I've cried for the past 15 minute, I want chocolate.

[dvrcos]

Aaron may not have an eidetic memory like Andrew does but he has a damn good one and he can remember anything he puts even the smallest amount of effort into remembering.

After everything that happened in Baltimore Aaron starts to note every small possibly important (and unimportant) medical fact about the foxes. And he’s not even totally conscious he’s doing it.

He consciously remembers Andrew and Nicky’s blood types. He knows Nicky’s allergic to penicillin and he knows Andrew doesn’t react well to doctors so it’s best for everyone if he can be administered some kind of sedative right away.

And then he thinks he should probably know this stuff for Kevin, and begrudgingly Neil, because they’re part of his strange little family that Andrew’s created. So he quickly and easily finds this information on them (because he’s a Minyard and he just knows how to find the things he needs to know). So he knows their blood types and he knows Kevin still feels residual pain in his left hand but doesn’t show it and try’s to ignore it. He knows Neil heals annoyingly quick from his all too common injuries but he also knows he aggravates those injuries easily by pushing himself too soon.

But it doesn’t stop there, there’s a small itch in the back of his head driving him to find out the important medical facts about the rest of the foxes. So he allows himself to remember their blood types and allergens and tells himself he needs to know incase of an emergency.

But he also notices that Matt has a high tolerance to pain medication whenever he’s being treated by Abby for an injury during practice or a game. And he notes the one type that works for him and keeps multiple bottles on him and in their room. (It’s also the only type that works for Kevin and works best for Neil so he stocks their room with it too)

And he notices that Allison is a slight germaphobe and applies hand sanitizer anytime she has to touch a public door handle or they go out to eat. So he opens as many doors for her as he can despite the confused look he gives her every time and he just glares right back at her. He keeps an extra mini bottle of hand sanitizer in his backpack for her as well and silently passes it to her when she’s forgotten hers.

He notices Dans chronic knee and lower back pain that Abby is constantly treating and how there’s always a rotating rainbow of colorful KT Tape on her. So he keeps an eye on Abby’s stock of tape and when a color is running low he casually mentions it to her to order more and then walks away.

He notices how Renee always picks at the scabs on her knuckles that result from her sparring with Andrew. He figures the wraps she has are getting old and silently leaves a new pair on the counter the next time he’s in the girls dorm, along with a box of bandaids and a tube of antiseptic ointment. He leaves a matching set of supplies in Andrew’s dorm as well just to be safe.

He doesn’t consciously realize that what he’s doing is protecting and taking care of the Foxes. But the others catch on and smile fondly at him because he’s letting himself care for them and become part of their family.

And the one time Dan mentions what he’s doing for them he looks at her like she’s crazy. He tells himself, and her, that that’s not what he’s doing, he’s just a future doctor and someone needs to take care of these injury prone idiot athletes and no one else besides him and Abby are going to do it right.

Aaron would definitely be so observant and acutely aware of the Foxes physical well beings despite him insisting he doesn’t care and hates them all. But he basically becomes Abby’s right hand man and teams second nurse because it’s good practice for his future and he knows them.

[roxineedstosleep]

Can you do platonic batfam with a male reader who is like Hunter from the owl house

Imagine having a manipulator uncle and is a clone of someone

Clones have no personality.

Not at least in the interim of their realization.

At the beginning they know what they want and that, then, when they interact with a more real world they realize that they are nothing and at the same time they are someone.

The emptiness that comes with realization, anger, loss, parendiza and acceptance are things that take time. They take time, tears, reproaches, rejections, acceptances, cries, screams, health and so many other things.

Conner surely understands what the reader is going through, he knows what it means to be someone's clone and not knowing what else to do for oneself.

Conner didn't know he could be himself until he stopped trying with Clark.

The reader… well.

Being Dick Grayson's clone wasn't something you'd like to have known.

Worse yet… meeting Dick and then the whole family was even worse.

You no longer knew if your affections, hobbies, likes and dislikes were a macabre work of genetics or because that's what you'd really be if you weren't a clone.

You were- are? soooo much like Richard.

But at the same time you were so different. His dark light skin was like a beautiful bronze compared to your uneven brown skin. It looked like your hair waves were hideous compared to his perfectly wavy hair. His eyes were the perfect shade of blue, well-place mole on the chick, his voice was more enchanting than yours.

Every time you saw him more and more, you felt as you looked in the mirror something about your appearance warp into an eternally striking malformation.

Your nails or your fingers didn't seem to be straight, your teeth were getting bigger and twisted(?), your hair was not manageable, your skin started to get more pimples or pores… nothing seemed to have an end.

You were too young to even be considered Dick's twin, at best, like Damian, you could be considered his younger brother… his son? To old for that?

Well, like Conner, someone had to have given the egg for that cloning thing to work.

That wasn't the point.

The point was that you were everything Richard wasn't. You never would be and never would become.

You didn't have the strength or the agility or the courage or the chutzpah.

When Bruce found you, it was as if he had stopped time and locked you in the Batmobile until Zantana and others came to see what they should do with you. You were just looking for the quickest way to buy candy. A simple detour around a corner and all of a sudden you were being pecked and bewitched by a bunch of people in tights who wouldn't stop asking you questions or wanting to get inside your head.

Your only mistake was scape from the orphanage for candy.

When the spells failed, when the manipulations came to nothing and when everything looked like it was going to end with you ten feet underground behind a ditch… they resigned themselves to completing the last box in the "kidnap a civilian" kit: they had to see if you were a fucking clone.

Bruce didn't even think of Dick as a possible cloning victim in the first place.

You didn't look like him… not in the right way. At least from Bruce's perspective; being the genius detective that he was.

Bruce had just squeezed the wheel of possibilities with the DNA of everyone registered in the Watchover system… the genetic co-incidence was just that.

A fucking co-incidence.

And Dick, he had the terrible luck to show up as a match. But even with that proff he did not believe it.

You, you couldn't be a clone, you had to be something else. Didn't you?

Your son? a mistake from the past?

No.

You were just the result of a crazy ex-girlfriend, an idiot Dick and a test tube.

They took you with them. You couldn't walk around without anyone watching you. Besides, a mansion was better than a low-security orphanage. Wasn't it?

But it didn't help any.

To them, to Dick himself, you were just a token that everyone was replaceable.

Bruce wanted to test if you were trainable to be Robin, but you could barely run without dying in the attempt. It didn't matter how many days you stayed in training or fighting.

Nothing worked.

Your belly was visible, your fatigue was or seemed chronic (some cloning error?), your appearance definitely resembled Dick but not in the right way. Or at least that's how you began to perceive it over time. As they, the Waynes, used to constantly emphasise to you.

Sometimes you could stand for hours in front of the mirror wondering if you were really a clone or if the machine had broken down.

And just as your relationship with your image began to deteriorate… the relationship with the members of the house didn't even seem to get off to a good start.

Damian didn't know how to treat you, Jason definitely looked at you with pity, Tim watched you like a lab rat, Alfred and Bruce tried to make up for all their faults with you.

Dick… Dick, like Clark, didn't want anything to do with you or relate to you.

At the beginning he tried. I mean, one of his best friends is a fucking clone, who was fiercely rejected by the person who should be his family. Wouldn't it be hypocritical of him to reject you?

But it was no use. The few times you did hang out together it was clearly awkward for both of you. And even if anyone asked how you were related, Dick was quick to reject any connection.

"He's a friend's cousin, I babysit." "Oh, a co-worker's son." "He's one of the Wayne Foundation kids."

Over time Dick really emphasised that he wanted nothing to do with you, or to know about you or even to consider accepting your existence. He pulled away, with different excuses or reasons to the point where there was no reason why they should relate to each other.

So, seeing that nothing could ever be the same again… you decided to take the next step.

Clearly they didn't want to see you. They didn't want to relate to you.

Dick was, much to your consternation considering that he even never get you a proper ID, your legal guardian, but even he didn't make a big deal out of it.

Damian wouldn't give you the time of day, Alfred and Bruce were always busy, Jason for clear reasons didn't want to be there, and Tim had a purely clinical interest in your existence.

Why be with them? Well, you needed a roof over your head, yes, but other than that there was no reason why you should waste your time and effort wanting to be there.

You were taken off the streets almost as an adult, you could see your way to entertain yourself until you could get out of there. You didn't have the same pressure as they did with public image, you didn't have to go to galas or society balls.

So, you looked for other ways to entertain yourself.

First it was sports, but you sucked. Really sucked.

The arts didn't seem to be your thing, even if you tried.

Dancing was also out of the question and singing, even though you weren't terrible, wouldn't bring you any kind of personal satisfaction.

That's when the clandestine outings came in.

You drank, you tried drugs, you did whatever it took to get out of the Wayne family's sight for more than a day.

There were bad experiences, definitely, but it seemed like life wanted to somehow make it up to you for everything it put you through.

Before long, you found relatively decent people.

People who, in the worst situations, you wouldn't hesitate to ask for help.

There were even times when you would spend up to a month or more away from the family home and never get a call or message about your whereabouts.

Before you knew it, the years passed and you had turned 18… or at least you could say so considering you were a fucking clone.

Months away from the Wayne's, calculating that time away from home, I'd say it was a total of 2 cumulative years that you were away.

And you were happy in those months far from the Wayne mansion. You had two good friends, who were in and out of drugs just like you. They would meet in a small, ramshackle studio and eat and get a job to survive together. When the going got tough, you'd rush back so your buddies could make ends meet.

Sometimes you would even send them some food and old clothes that everyone in the house was reluctant to throw away.

Many of your clothes were, ironically, things that others had left behind. Not because you didn't have clothes of your own, but it was easier to finish wearing worn out clothes than to wear something new that you could wear later.

But that wasn't the point.

You didn't know anything about the Waynes at that time, and they didn't know anything about you.

And that seemed to work just as well for them.

Worked perfectly for you as well.

You didn't have to deal with them, they didn't have to deal with you. Wasn't that the best thing?

If you came back alive, with tattered clothes and calloused hands, they wouldn't say go. It didn't matter if you'd spent most of the winter sleeping without heat or if you moved the bathtub into the living room to avoid flooding the floor during the rainy season.

You were invisible to them. And you were happy about it.

But, like everything else in life, nothing seemed to be enough, everything seemed like a sick joke and no matter what you did, you always ended up in the same mental hole that kept you from moving on.

You don't even know how the fuck you ended up like that.

It was just a party, a private fucking party with your two best friends. Jackovy had brought a new sour candy (real sugar tasty candy) to try, Luz brought her own special drinks. You had gone out of your way to make spicy mac and cheese that had just the right amount of creamy yet tangy cheese. What was the worst that could happen?

A fucking Joker bomb, half a block from Jackovy's ramshackle building, that's what. Just as the three of you were halfway through dinner, ordering takeout for something sweet for dessert…. a stinking bomb shattered the front windows to the street and Jackovy jumped on you to get you out of the place.

Without thinking too much you grabbed Luz by the arm, and both of you held on to Jackovy's large figure to escape from the building that was collapsing second by second. As soon as Jackovy put one foot out into the street, the whole building collapsed and you pushed him and Luz as far away from the collapse as you could, they pulled you in time, but your leg got caught in some of the debris.

You didn't want to see it, you didn't need to see it, but that leg was definitely broken. You didn't know the severity, but from what Luz was shouting in her native language and the insults your other friend was hurling you knew that a bandage wasn't enough.

Clearly, as if it were a bad joke, because the Joker really was a lousy comedian, it wasn't long before Gordon and a member of your family arrived at the scene of the crime.

It seemed so strange to you, so weird.

They really were good at acting their double persona. I mean, you never saw Dick be gentle with you before. Not when you broke your arm after trying to climb the chandelier like he once did. Not when Bruce yelled at you until he was hoarse because he couldn't do gymnastics.

You never saw Bruce act carefully when pulling out the debris. You didn't feel Dick's desperate way of calling a paramedic like fake.

But, it didn't matter.

Really, if you didn't get over that everyone in the family had taken acting classes you could believe a little bit about their acting.

Really, omitting all the obnoxious disinterest you had in them, you could say they were worthy of an Oscar for best acting or at least they were too professional to care whether you were the forgotten clone in the house or not.

As soon as one of the two wanted to get into the ambulance with you, you shouted Luz and Jackovy's name for them to follow you. The paramedics didn't know what to do, but there wasn't much to say about it either.

"Only family members or couples can join-"

"Jackovy is his husband" Luz had shouted, noticing how you were trying to run away from the nurses' restraints " Besides he always use his husband's"

"A child can't be an adult's boyfriend-" Dick had tried to say, frightened looking at Jackovy, who definitely looked to be at least about 27 years old. His prominent beard and his height and musculature really made him look old, how funny that he was only a couple of years older than you or Luz.

His unfriendly face didn't help the current situation either, but that didn't matter. The point was that Jackovy had health insurance in his name, so why did the technicalities of the safe age of consent matter now?

"I'm 23, his MY husband, he's coming with me" You interrupted.

The opinion of two men in dark spandex didn't matter anyway. You're married? Perfect, the husband has more right to be with you in the ambulance.

Your friend stuck around while Luz stayed behind to see if anything could be salvaged from the wrecked apartment.

Neither you nor Jackovy or Luz felt sorry for the place, it didn't belong to either of you, it was just an old building used as a game room. But, some things were of sentimental value.

If they could be salvaged it was worth a try. Also, probably many of the drugs were there. Was a better option to clean it before the police started to seek there.

Getting to the hospital and getting your leg fixed was easy. Making sure the fake marriage paperwork and the fake ID Jackovy had gotten for you passed as real was the tricky part.

You and Luz had done a perfect job in creating all the false documentation in order to generate a fake ID.

Better job of adding a little more age to you.

They knew your ID was functional, as you had even been able to get your friend out of the police lockup on a couple of occasions.

But the fake marriage paperwork they weren't sure about. those were, in a better word, almost new. Not even more than a week.

They would not have been created had it not been for your friend's last minute idea to be covered in this way. Jackovy did it expontanea.

It was fraud that paper, not that your ID was any less fraud than that certificate, but at least you only had one ID.

Jackovy had several marriage certificates with different people's names on them. Some for a greencard, others like you, who needed to be able to use health insurance.

But the paper passed as valid, Jackovy's insurance cover most of the expenses and now you could get some rest before you could leave for Luz's now truly owned apartment.

The bad joints, at the end of the day, had ensured that you didn't lose the money you had saved… but for some reason had lured a falsely concerned family into the hallway outside the room you temporarily had in the hospital.

What the fuck were they doing there?

[sam-loves-seb]

the bathroom drawer

"Mickey!" Ian yells. "Did you move my cologne?"

"Your what?" Mickey calls back, appearing in the bathroom doorway while buttoning up his shirt.

"My cologne."

"No. I don't even know where you keep that shit."

"In here!" Ian says, shaking his head as he rummages through the drawer below their bathroom sink. "I swear I left it in here."

"Lemme see," Mickey says, nudging Ian to the side. "You're shit at looking."

"I'm not shit at looking, it's just not fucking there."

"Yeah, yeah," Mickey grumbles, moving the junk in the drawer around. "Jesus Christ. How much shit do we got in here?"

"Too much," Ian muses, folding his arms over his chest and leaning his hip against the sink. "But it doesn't matter anyway. It's not in there. I've been looking for--"

"Found it." Mickey holds up the blue bottle with a smug grin.

Ian grabs it from him. "Whatever."

Mickey raises his eyebrows. "Whatever? That's what I get?"

Ian leans in and gives him a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek. "Thank you," he says instead.

"Better," Mickey grumbles.

Ian spritzes the cologne onto himself while Mickey keeps rummaging around in the drawer. He pulls out an empty toilet paper roll, a broken comb with too many teeth missing, and an old phone charger with exposed wires.

He throws them all in the trash. "This thing is a mess."

"Yeah," Ian says with a sigh, checking himself over in the mirror. He paws at his hair a bit. "We gotta do a deep clean in here one of these days. Closet's a disaster too."

"What the fuck is--"

Ian looks over at his husband when he doesn't finish his sentence.

Mickey's brows are furrowed as he holds up a thin black stick in front of his face. "Is this makeup?"

Ian huffs out a faint laugh. "Yeah."

"Debbie's?"

"That thing's old enough to be Fiona's," Ian tells him, taking it from Mickey. "But no. It's mine."

Mickey raises his brows. "Yours?"

Ian uncaps the tube, twists the end so the little black tip pushes through the end. "Eyeliner."

"Holy shit," Mickey says slowly. "How fucking old is that thing?"

"Old," Ian says, trying to read the chipped writing on the side for any kind of date. "Probably expired."

"That shit expires?"

"Supposedly. But who knows."

Mickey tilts his head, watching Ian examine the eyeliner. "How the hell did it end up here?"

"No idea," Ian tells him. How it survived in the Gallagher house for as long as it did and moved to their west side apartment is beyond him. "Probably got boxed up with some of my shit a long time ago."

"Huh," Mickey muses. He crosses his arms over his chest. "Can't believe you used to put that shit on every night."

"Me neither," Ian says. "You ever tried it?"

"What, make up?"

"Yeah."

"For a disguise once or twice," Mickey tells him with a shrug. "Never like, just 'cause."

Ian starts to grin. "You wanna?"

"Fuck no," Mickey says instinctively. He bites his lip. "Why? You gonna wear it tonight?"

"Why not?" Ian asks, facing the mirror and leaning in close. "We're already going to a club. Might as well get go all out."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah." Ian glances over at his husband. "You got a problem with that?"

Mickey shrugs. "No."

"Okay."

Mickey watches with rapt attention as Ian applies the eyeliner to himself. The stick is old for sure, and it takes a few passes to really get the make up on his eyelid. It only takes a minute though, and then Ian's eyes are outlined in black.

"There," he says, blinking and turning to face Mickey. "How do I look?"

"Weird," Mickey says.

"Sure, but like, crazy weird, or hot weird."

Mickey's brows pinch together. "...Hot weird."

Ian grins. "It's kinda doing it for you, isn't it?"

"No. Shut up," Mickey says quickly.

Ian laughs. "You should try it," he tells his husband. "It's fun."

"It looks like it's gonna get in my eyes."

"Maybe," Ian says with a shrug. "But I bet you'd look hot with it."

"You say that about everything you want me to wear."

"And I've never been wrong once."

Mickey makes a face. "Does it hurt?"

"No."

"...Can I take it off if it looks stupid?"

Ian's face relaxes. "You can take it off whenever you want," he says softly. "Doesn't ever have to leave this bathroom."

Mickey glares at the eyeliner, his face slowly melting into apprehensive reluctance. "Fucking... fine."

"Really?" Ian asks, perking up.

"How do I do it?"

"I can do it," Ian offers, holding up the eyeliner and his open hand. "Lemme put it on you."

Mickey sighs through his nose, then steps closer. He tilts his chin up and fits his face into his husband's waiting hands.

Ian kisses his temple. "Close your eyes."

Mickey does as told. His eyelashes flutter at the first press of the stick, eyelids scrunching at the new, weird sensation.

"Hold still," Ian whispers, trying not to poke him in the eye.

"Feels weird," Mickey mumbles.

"Yeah, but..." Ian pulls back, smiling at his work. "Open your eyes."

Mickey blinks them open, eyebrows bouncing with it. "So?"

"Damn," Ian says, grinning. "You look good, baby."

"Fuck off with that," Mickey grumbles, turning towards the mirror. He makes a face. "I look like a fucking alien."

"A hot alien."

Mickey gives him the side eye, but he doesn't immediately wipe the eyeliner off. He leans in close to the mirror, tilts his head this way and that. Pulls at the skin on his cheeks and his temples. "Weird," he says quietly.

"So," Ian starts, capping the eyeliner and tossing it back in the drawer. "You ready to go, or what?"

Mickey sighs heavily, taking one last look at himself in the mirror.

Ian slides in behind him, curls a hand around his hip. "Don't overthink it," he whispers, kissing his husband's temple. "If you like it, go with it."

"I don't know if I like it."

"That's okay too."

Mickey leans back against him. "It looks good on you."

Ian smiles softly. "Thanks."

Mickey hums. "Fine," he says, standing up straight. "Let's go. But if anyone says anything about it--"

"I know," Ian says, hands on his husband's shoulders as he follows him out of the bathroom. "You get to punch them."

"I get to punch them."

"Fine." Ian kills the bathroom light. "And we might have to hit the 24 hour CVS on the way home. I definitely don't have make up wipes."

[toxscty444]

in the car…?

Prompt: you and Sukuna are roommates- and you always manage to get into some trouble, whether it be egging your toxic ex’s car, or TP’ing your friends house- he’s always with you. And this time is no exception…😉

‼️MINORS DNI‼️

Also this might be a longer fic so if oh don’t like little side stories- then I dunno. dw pooks- there’s nsfw 🤭

“God- ‘kuna Alex is bothering her again. I’m gonna fuckin kill him.” You groan frustratedly.

Alex, your best friend’s boyfriend is a fucking terror, and an asshole. The only reason your best friend puts up with him is because he’s ‘good in bed’ according to her. Merely thinking about the little shit has you rolling your eyes in annoyance

“Oh? What’d he do now?” He asks, amused and a sly smirk on his lips. He looked so fucking hot. But you won’t admit that to yourself.

Yet.

“He’s just being a dick.” You shake your head, scoffing.

“Why don’t we do something fun then? Maybe egg his house, then smoke a lil? Relieve some stress in the process, pretty girl?” He teases, his hands rubbing your shoulders, an intimate gesture.

The little sigh that escapes your lips and the way you relax under his touch makes his eyes darken in desire, but he won’t do that- at least not right now.

“Sure- you bring the eggs, I bring the weed.” Your laugh echoes through the shared apartment, something he could listen to on repeat, and amused smirk on his face.

He watches you as you get up and take the little black tubes containing the already rolled up joints, and a carton of eggs- and you hand both to him, flashing your cute little smile at him that drives him crazy. You walk over to the door and he follows you out to the lobby, making sure anyone passing by knows your his-

but you don’t know that yet? He’ll make sure you know it soon enough.

You both get into your car, bantering back and forth about who should drive- of course, Sukuna wins that little squabble, “you already look like a passenger princess, might as well act like one.” He chuckles, sitting down in the drivers seat and closing the door, giving you a knowing smirk, watching your cute little ass walk around the car to the passenger seat beside him.

“You already know where Alex lives right?” You ask him, and he simply nods, pulling out of the parking lot.

“Princess, you’ve driven past that punks house more times than I can count looking for your little friend, to lecture her later about staying at his house.” He retorts, smirking at you mischievously.

Sometimes he can be so damn tempting.

Five minutes later, he pulls into Alex’s neighborhood, parking farther away from his house so you guys aren’t seen, it’s not your guys’ first time getting into a bit of trouble. “Got the stuff?” He asks, an eyebrow raised in question, and you nod and grin at him, holding up the joints and the eggs.

“We’ll save the special stuff for later after we’re done with this little asshat.” You smirk, putting the joints in the glove box, along with the lighter.

You both get out of the car at the same time, his steps eating up the distance to Alex’s home.

“Can I get the first grab?” He smirks at you, already reaching for the first egg in the carton and chucking it at the living room window, making you cover your mouth and stifle your laughter. The eggs shatters like glass on impact, dripping down the window, leaving a mess of eggshells and yolk all over the place.

“That little shit will have so much fun cleaning this up tomorrow.” You laugh quietly, the moon being your only guise from prying eyes. Thank god it’s dark out.

You both take turns circling the house and throwing eggs at the house, and after you’re both done, it looks like a mess. And you’re proud of it.

“That’s not the only mess I’ll be proud of tonight~” he says low and husky in your ear as you guys walk back to the car, making your face flush in desire and making your breath hitch, “wha- huh? You talk in about the joints?” You ask him, a bit concerned and flustered. He wanted to fuck you so bad already.

“Yes princess, I am.” He say sarcastically, winking at you suggestively. And you roll your eyes, he can be so corny sometimes.

You both get back to the car, him taking the drivers seat again, you’re kicked back to passenger princess again. Not that you’re complaining. You open the glove box and pull out one of the joints and a lighter, handing the lighter to Sukuna and holding the joint to your lips, he smirks at you and lights the joint for you, watching your pupils dilate from the effect of the marijuana.

You pass the joint to Sukuna, exhaling the smoke, your head leaning against the headrest on the seat. Your eyes close in bliss, letting the effects wash over you, feeling light and happy, your body feeling everything tenfold, making any slight touch or sensation undeniable.

He watches you with half lidded eyes, needing you so bad. He takes a long drag of the joint, the smoke he exhales blurring his perfect fucking face.

“You feelin better yet princess?” He smirks at you, looking you up and down. His eyes rake over your figure hungrily, your shirt hugging your curves perfectly, and the sweatpants you’re wearing makes it casual enough for you to make an excuse to show off your perfect boobs. Which he shamelessly stares at.

Your eyes narrow, a small smirk on your lips, “eyes up here pretty boy.” You point to your face and he looks at you with and amused and slightly surprised expression, “I know that already princess.” His voice is low and husky when he talks, filled with need already.

You take his hand in yours and slowly guide it to your thigh, his hand possessively gripping your thigh, trailing dangerously close to your already throbbing and needy clit. “What do you think you’re doing?” You ask him coyly, you’ve always been such a damn tease. And he loves it.

“Re-phrase the what to who. Should be obvious already, huh princess?” His gaze burns into yours with such an intensity, you’re basically putty in his hands and he hasn’t even done anything yet.

He hands the almost-forgotten joint back to you, smirking knowingly at you and exhaling smoke from the drag. You take it from him and hit it again, and another time, just to make sure. “Just warning you-“ you pause, unsure of if you should say it, especially since his hand is on your thigh.

“What is it baby?” His smirk grows even more, his hold on your thigh tightening.

You sigh, looking down, “sometimes I get high before I go out to a club or something- because I get insanely turned on at literally anything.” You scoff playfully at your little confession.

Oh that’s just what he wanted to hear.

“Really princess? Let’s see how you get with me then.” His gaze darkens, his breathing shallow and a lustful smirk on his face.

Oh you’re in for it now.

He discards the joint outside the car window, slightly cracked from letting in the cool summer night air. The feeling flowing through your senses is surreal, and so is your desire to fuck him.

And so is his. But before he can mutter anything, your lips meet his in a hungry kiss. He lets out a satisfied groan, his hands holding your waist closer to him and he tangles his hands in your hair, pulling your head back harshly and peppering kisses down your neck all the way down to your collarbone.

“Damn princess, what’d you think what would happen if you told me that, hm?” He whispers in your ear, his other hand reaching under the top of your sweats, his fingers finding its way to your needy core, his fingers rubbing lazy circles on your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. The sensation heightened from the effects of marijuana.

“F-fuck S’kuna- we’re still in the car-“ you whine, moaning at his skilled fingers working your clit. Your lips parting in a satisfied sigh, your hand coming up to cover your mouth.

“So baby? Can fuck you just as good here as on the bed, kay?” He whispers in your ear, low and husky. His fingers pace picks up even more, sliding into your wet pussy, his fingers curling inside you, hitting that sweet spot, making your back arch in pleasure as he finger fucks you harder and faster, “ah! K-kuna- s’close!” You moan out, your cunt tightening around his fingers.

“Cum f’me then princess.”

His words send you over the edge, your mouth falling open in pleasure, a lewd moan slipping past your lips and your eyes rolling back. He can barely hold himself back anymore, his erection near painful at this point, making a tent in his grey sweats.

“Get in the backseat. Now.” His words are demanding and full of lust, leaving no room for resistance or discussion. And you climb into the backseat, slipping off your top and your sweatpants, leaving you in your bra and panties, making the poor man go feral.

He gets in after you, having to open the backseats door because of his muscular build. Fuck that turned you on so much. He closes the door and locks it, the little ‘click’ of the lock sealing your fate for the evening.

Oh you’re fucked, literally.

He yanks down his sweatpants and boxers at the same time, revealing his angry erection, already leaking pre cum from the tip. And your eyes widen at the sight of it, long and thick, how is this going to fit inside you?

“Like what you see princess?” He leans down, whispering in your ear, his voice raw and husky.

“M-mhm” you manage to mumble between moans and whimpers.

“S’kuna please-“ you whine, your hips bucking up needily.

“Use your words baby, can’t hear you between all those little noises you’re making.” He says, smirking down at you, teasing you.

“K-kuna please I need you inside me.” You moan out, your hands finding its way to your clit, still covered by your skimpy little panties. But he grabs your wrist before you can lay a finger on it. “Tsk. Try again princess, on your hands and knees.”

You whine impatiently, annoyed and desperately needing to feel him inside you, so you quickly sit up, your back facing him and you arch your back against his hands, holding your hips in place so you can’t move.

You feel his fingers slowly trace the outline of your perfect little ass, making quick work of ripping off those panties. “You want me princess? Hm?” He purrs in your ear, tangling his hands in your hair, pulling your head back.

“Y-yes.” You moan out, earning a low groan from him.

“Fuck princess- makin this damn hard to control myself.” He says before slamming into you in one harsh thrust, letting you accommodate to his size, stretching your tight little pussy out. Your sweet little cry of pleasure is enough to drive him crazy and he pounds into you over and over, his tip hitting your cervix again and again.

“Ngh- ah! K-kuna!” You moan out, the pain from earlier quickly replaced with pure ecstasy and pleasure.

His pace picks up even more, making you see stars, “f-fuck princess, so tight and needy. Didn’t know you’d be a little slut huh?” He pulls your hair back again, his hips still slamming into yours at the same brutal pace, making the car move.

You feel yourself tighten around him, nearing you orgasm, “S-S’kuna fuck! S’close!” You cry out, almost screaming his name.

“Did I say you could cum yet slut? No? Didn’t fuckin think so.” He growls low in your ear, pounding into you deeper and deeper, making it significantly harder for you to not cum around him.

Tears of pure pleasure roll down your cute little face, begging him to let you come.

“You wanna cum princess? Yeah? Scream my name for me will ya?” He groans, feeling his own orgasm coming soon.

And oh fuck- you screamed his name so loud the whole neighborhood probably heard it. And that’s makes him so fucking turned on. They way your back arches and your eyes roll back makes him fuck you even harder. How that’s possible? You don’t know, but god it feels so fucking good.

“F-fuck!” Sukuna lets out a low moan when he comes inside you, his thick, hot cum making a mess of your thighs and cute little pussy.

Your pants fill the car, catching your breath.

“How about we pick this back up at home princess?” He smirks down at you, admiring your fucked out, dazed expression.

“Fuck yeah.” You say, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

He’s definitely getting head on the way home.

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

Steve blinks at him like he’d forgotten he was there. He gestures at Steve’s head. “Concussions?”

“Oh,” Steve says, like it’s obvious. “Yeah. I got hit in the head, like, four times.” He tilts his head, thinking. “Was it?” He asks rhetorically. “Jon clocked me first, then the Russians and Billy. And I don’t think the last time counts as a concussion, really, but in Lover’s Lake? When the bats dragged me through? I definitely hit my head. And there was the choking happening too, which definitely didn’t help.”

He shrugs, like he’s counting something inconsequential, like sticks, instead of brain injuries he’s had. “So, like, three and a half.”

Again, what the fuck.

He says so out loud, and Steve just shrugs. “I mean, I’m okay. I was okay, even, I just had to learn how to do things differently.”

Eddie looks at Steve like he’s crazy. He’s starting to think he is. “You’re talking about brain injuries. Life-changing injuries that, if you didn’t take care of them, could be life-threatening.” He shakes his head. “How are you not wrapped in bubble wrap twenty-four seven?”

“I’m fine,” Steve stresses, “and it’s a moot point anyways, the concussions are gone, so it doesn’t matter.” He sighs, shakes his head. “Anyways, how far are you on the song?”

“Oh, right! I’m having a little bit of trouble on this one part, but I should have it mostly down by the end of the day.”

Steve chuckles, shaking his head. “Incredible.”

Eddie frowns, suddenly defensive. “What?”

Steve blinks at him. “What? I mean it. I think it’s really cool how you can do that. And to be able to learn an entire song in a day especially. Not to mention one that sounds as challenging as that one does.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, desperately hoping he’s not blushing. Based on past experiences, though, he thinks he’s probably about the shade of the tomatoes Steve’s slicing. “Thanks.”

Steve smiles at him, closed-lip but no less real, and Eddie escapes out to the living room.

“Eddie!” Dustin says, motioning him over. “Okay, look. The Upside Down, right? And Eleven’s basically got True Sight. She can see anything that’s happening down there. So why not use her as a lookout?”

Eddie raises a brow. “You mean besides the fact that using her powers drains her, and we might need her for the final boss?”

“Oh,” Dustin says, disappointed. “Right.”

Eddie ruffles Dustin’s hair and sits down, studying their papers. “I think you’ve got the right idea,” he tells Lucas. “They said these things are vulnerable to fire, right?”

“Right.”

“There’s this book I read called Fahrenheit 451 about firemen who actually started fires, instead of put them out. Think about the trucks you see, right? With the big hoses? Imagine fire instead of water. Or even just some kind of flammable liquid that we could light quickly. If we can concentrate the jet enough to not worry about spraying everything-”

“We spray what we want and light the suckers up,” Mike finishes, grinning.

“Exactly,” Eddie agrees, pointing at him. “The trouble comes when we start thinking about all the little drops that land everywhere, not where we want them. Water mists everywhere. If there’s a solid-enough line of mist from the fire back to us, we’re in trouble.”

“So hairspray,” Dustin says. “Aerosolize it. Put it on a long hose with a long tube, far away from us, and mist everything we want to mist.”

“And wind?” Eddie asks. “If it blows back in our faces…”

“Right,” Dustin nods.

Lucas looks between them and sighs. “Steve!”

“What?” Steve calls back from the kitchen.

“Is there wind in the Upside Down?”

Steve walks out, frowning. “Wind? Not that I can remember. Why?”

Lucas grins, first at him, then at the guys gathered around the table with him. “I think we have an idea.”

Steve catches Eddie’s eye. “You’re helping?”

“Trying to,” Eddie shrugs, stretching as he stands. “Trying to get them to think outside the box in a different way.”

Steve grins, nods, and disappears back into the kitchen, coming out less than a minute later with a platter of sandwiches. “The rest of planning can wait until after dinner,” he tells them. “And thank El, she helped.”

A chorus of “Thank you, El,” rang from the table, and Eddie snags a sandwich before stepping back to where Steve is. “Thanks,” he murmurs, taking a bite. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but whatever happened during those four years in the future… I think it might’ve changed you for the better.”

Steve grins at him. “I couldn’t agree more.”

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[six-eyed-samurai]

DEATH MARKS AND SOULMATES

SUMMARY: Distancing himself from you was really hard, but Genya had no doubt as to what his coffin soulmate mark meant for you. A/N: Funny enough this is not angst WARNINGS: Set in the Kimetsu Academy AU. Fem reader.

In this world, you find your soulmate not by a red string or a name tattooed on your person, but rather a symbolic little picture imprinted on your shoulder that symbolised something special between you and your soulmate.

The world has seen the ordinary sort (a coffee cup for a cafe meet cute, a book for a library study session), with some unique types (a cross to represent a hospital visit)...but surely no one else on earth save for one Genya Shinazugawa had one of a grave.

It was a plain, unexceptional thing really. Just a simple brown casket underneath thin lines of grass and soil and a tombstone standing sentry over it.

Yet how could it NOT symbolise anything not related to death?

Did it mean he'd die before meeting his soulmate? Did it mean whoever they were, were already dead? Did it mean they were both going to die upon meeting? God, it drove him crazy.

And fearful.

Which was why Genya had long sworn off finding his soulmate. They were both clearly better off never meeting.

So he contented himself with dating around people occasionally who had yet to meet their soulmates. Sure, he knew it wouldn't last long, until they met their one and only at least, but it was fun while it did and at any rate it kept his mind off his own dark, depressing mark.

It still hurt though. Hurt to watch everyone, family and friends and colleagues - hell, even enemies - get together with their soulmates.

Inosuke and Aoi going out after she tripped on his loose shoe he lost running to class identical to the one on her arm and smacked him for it. Iguro-san and Mitsuri-chan shyly confessing their undying love when they pieced together his mark was an old pizza box and hers was a Bunsen burner and test tubes. Kanao and Tanjiro got together after their dropped wallet mix up and discovering the missing halves of their coins literally.

For fxxk's sake, even that Agatsuma kid and Nezuko started dating when they saw the lightning and the loaf of bread on each other's shoulders.

It was really making him feel...slightly left out.

But getting together with his soulmate was a bad idea. So for years Genya could've won a Grammy award for his acting like it was fine, that he never did actually want to meet his soulmate.

Until stupid, lovable HER waltzed back into his life.

He vaguely remembered her from his childhood, but when they both started talking it was like he had known her all his life. Even the gloomy way of how both of them had first met - at some services for a relative of hers and a great god aunt of his - did nothing to dampen their childhood recap chatter.

Was it her charming, if not idiotic humor? Was it the way she complimented him so naturally? Was it the way she just stared at him across the ground and smiled when he turned around?

Whatever it was...she was really making it hard for him to keep to his promise.

"Hey, Genya?"

God. This was it. No, no, no...

"Hmm, yeah?"

"There's something I want to tell you...We've been really good friends for a while now. I was thinking...something more?"

"AND I TURNED HER DOWN, ANIKI, WHY THE HELL DID I DO THAT?”

Genya groaned into his pillow and banged his head against his bed while an irritated Sanemi sat at the other end with a disbelieving expression and handa in the midst face palming himself and bringing it down on his little brother's skull in despair and rage.

"GENYA, WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT!? I'M FXXKING TIRED KF SEEING BOTH YOUR PUPPY EYES AND MOONING!” Sanemi bellowed, then took a deep breath to calm himself and wake his already asleep siblings. “Dammit, what did she say?"

"She was so nice about it, that's the problem!!! She even said we could still be friends if I was fine with it but I just feel even more guilty! WHY ARE GIRLS JUST SO - UGHHH."

"Genya, is this about your soulmate mark thing again?" Sanemi sighed, suddenly serious, and yanked his brother up. "You do know plenty of people don't wind up with their soulmate right, stupid idiot? It doesn't decide everything."

"Yeah, but what if she finds her soulmate and they're a better match? She showed me her mark once - something like a black umbrella lying in a puddle."

"Black umbrella?" Sanemi frowned (well, even more so than before) and leaned back. "Well, well, you don't see that many of that colour around. What are the odds of him finding her soulmate?"

"You found yours! Besides, it's really common, it's the sort of umbrella you bring to a funeral."

"Funeral? Damn, kinda like yours huh, tough luck - hang on a second."

"Yeah?" Genya peeked from the mound of pillows in surprise.

"Tell me how you guys met again." Sanemi snapped his fingers impatiently. “Get on with it, dumbass, I'm not gonna sit here all night listening to you moan about being a wimp.”

"We were at dad's funeral, remember? Her dad was his drinking buddy or something. I dropped the umbrella I was carrying and since it was raining it nearly blew off but she caught it-"

His mouth dropped open when Sanemi let out a loud groan and slapped the mattress. "What?"

"Genya. Funeral. Your mark is a coffin. You guys met at a funeral. You dropped your umbrella. She caught it for you. Her mark is an umbrella. Any bells RINGING YET, YOU GODDAMNED FOOL?"

"...oh god."

Sanemi barely had time to shout after Genya with the speed he was barging out of the room and running off. "DON'T COME BACK UNTIL YOU GET HER, OR I'LL LOCK YOU OUT!”

It wasn't that hard to find her house, having been there so many times. Genya tore through the storm and down the streets like it was nothing but a leisurely walk in the park, barely avoiding slipping on the puddles, until he arrived in front of the garden you and him had spent so many days messing around in. She was standing so obviously, miserably in the pouring rain holding the umbrella like he did so many years ago, a quiet moment from the accepting facade she had thrown up before.

Something about just watching that made him regret every single dead he had had before. She was a beautiful, serene, sorrowful painting.

And he'd be a fool to auction such a treasure like that off.

He called her name, once, twice, panting and desperate.

She whipped around almost at once. "Who - Genya-kun? Genya-kun! You'll catch a cold!"

She rushed forward at once to cover his dripping wet self with her umbrella, concern written - scrawled - over her features.

"Doesn't matter - look - uh -" Genya faltered, then took a deep breath. "I said no because I was afraid you weren't my soulmate. Or if you were... let's just say my mark wasn't the most auspicious. I was...scared of what would happen, so it was worse."

"Is that - is that it? Genya-kun, I - I don't - you know I don't care - care about the marks -"

"No, listen, please. Then I talked it over with Aniki and he kinda made me realize some things."

"Oh - uh - yeah? What?"

"That the grave on my shoulder was because I met you at a funeral, that I love you mark or not and...that yes, I want to be something more."

"We - we can be more than more. We'll be most - I - I promise!"

She held her umbrella over him all those years ago.

Now both of them threw it away to laugh and dance in the rain as newfound lovers.

[moxfirefly]

HEAR ME OUT…strap and bondage with Raphie but here’s the kicker:

F!reader putting the strap on Raph and ridding it, purposefully ignoring him as a punishment while he has to watch all tied up

Subby brat Raph gives me life -v-

The sound that I just produced

Anon say less!

Rated Explicit

Raph saw something fly across his head, he couldn’t exactly make out what it was but it was coming from that dreaded delightful box of tricks you owned.

Currently he was in a position he wasn’t exactly sure he’d find himself, because with some ingenuity and a lot of rope, he was bound to the bed. The hooks were reinforced (he hoped) and while he wasn’t a fan of the gag, he understood the need for it.

Because according to you, he had a mouth on him.

And according to you, he had misbehaved and induced a punishment for the evening.

“Aha! Finally found it,” He couldn’t exactly see what you’d found and much less when you came back to the bed with it behind your back.

“So Raphie, I hope this serves as a reminder that if you act like a brat, you don’t get to have fun.” You shouldn’t look so good while threatening him but there was something in your eyes had his dick harder than ever and wanting nothing more than to have you threatening him some more.

But when something landed on his plastron and he felt straps, he was confused.

Then worried when he saw the dildo.

“Relax, that’s not going in you…maybe not today, but it’s definitely going in me.” You fastened the straps across his hips, securing them enough so the toy would stay in place, and for it to stand just above his aching member.

“You see, if you really thought that you could act a complete and utter brat with me and still get to cum tonight, you’re sorely mistaken sweetie.”

Raph tried to say something but the stupid gag wasn’t helping, he could plea his case, he could sweet talk you into throwing that dumb toy aside and just using him. “Now let’s see, where is my lube?” You heard him whine, found green eyes desperately trying to speak to you.

Upon find the tube you slathered a generous amount onto the toy just above Raph’s already leaking cock. Each swipe, each stroke to the toy only made his hips push up but to no avail. “It’s been a while since I’ve used this, I wonder if it still feels good?” You made a show on your last words, a grin that only made him struggle just a tad more than he was allowed to.

Raph watched in absolute agony as you climbed on top of him and sank down on the fake appendage. Each little bit that disappeared with you made him groan. The envy coursing through his body wouldn’t settle, he wanted so badly to be the one to have your warm and snug around his cock.

You moved, allowed that first thrust to showcase just what he was missing. You laid on his hard chest, lifted your hips and shook your rear just purely out of spite. Raph breathed hard around the gag, felt drool leak out of the sides just as another embarrassing string of precum leaked from his cock. This had to be what going crazy felt like. To have you, naked, ready and fucking yourself with a useless toy.

He searched for your gaze, another pleading begging look showing you just how sorry he was. You smiled, just as he thought you’d taken pity, you only sat back up and fucked yourself harder on him.

The sound coming out of your mouth, the obscene slaps against his plastron, it was proving far too much, he felt another gush of precum drip from him. Well he could at least cum, it wouldn’t be as pleasurable but at least-

“Raph, if you cum, I’m going to this again, soooo dooooon’t.”

He felt legitimate tears well up at the corners of his eyes. There was no way he was going to make it through this.

[guilty-pleasures21]

The health checkup

Patient!Miguel x Doctor!Reader ?! I'm just crazy for shy Miguel, okay?! 😍

Warnings: manipulation for sex and explicit descriptions of sex (male x female).

_______________________________________________

     “Dr O’Hara?” Miguel looked up at the sound of his name and the nurse gestured for him to head to the examination room. “The doctor is ready to see you now.” Miguel strode over to the door and knocked on it before entering. It was just his yearly checkup with his usual doctor - the older man he’d been seeing for years. But the doctor sitting in the chair when he walked in was neither old nor a man. 

     “Doctor O’Hara?” the unfamiliar doctor inquired, looking up from her computer to flash him a warm smile as she did so. She was really pretty: tumbling curls, almond-shaped eyes, rosy lips. Miguel cleared his throat suddenly, realising he’d been staring. 

     “Uh, it’s academic,” he elaborated, lowering his gaze as he took the empty seat beside her desk. “But … you’re not Dr Jefferson.” 

     “Good observation, Dr O’Hara,” the young doctor teased him. “Looks like your eyesight is all on point. Now let’s check your blood pressure.” He held his arm out so she could strap the monitor around it. Then she pressed the ‘start’ button before turning her attention back to him. 

     “I’m X, by the way,” she introduced herself finally. “I don’t know if Dr Jefferson told you before, but he’ll be retiring soon, so we’re starting to transfer his patients to other doctors.” 

     Right. Dr Jefferson had told him that, when Miguel had come in for a nasty cough a while back. But did that mean that this new, unnecessarily cute little doctor was going to be his regular from now on? “Oh, yeah. I’m Miguel.” 

     “Nice to meet you, Miguel.” She flashed him that pretty little smile again, then removed the monitor before pulling out her penlight. “So, Miguel, what are you a doctor in?” 

     He flinched a little as she shone the pen into his eyes, but she finished rather quickly before moving on to his ears. “Uh, genetics.” 

     “Ooh, fancy!” She sat back down in front of him and took hold of his chin and he opened his jaw to allow her a glimpse of the back of his throat. “I was thinking of specialising in that at one point.” She placed her penlight back into her pocket, then turned around to prepare the syringe and tube for taking a sample of his blood. 

     “But?” Miguel asked, the nervous fluttering of his stomach getting drowned out by his curiosity now. She shrugged, then turned back to him to clean the inside of his elbow.

     “I dunno. I quite liked looking after patients.” She tied a band around his upper arm, then tapped on his skin to find the vessel. “So I thought I’d stick to it.” Miguel felt a slight pinch as she stuck the needle in, but he kept his gaze fixed on her as she drew his blood. 

     “How old are you?” he inquired, his eyes narrowing in thought. She seemed pretty young to be working on her own already. Not that it made him doubt her abilities in any way! It just made him think that maybe she was really smart - another one of the boxes on his checklist ticked off. Not that he’d been counting or anything. Then, realising that the question might come across as offensive, he quickly added “if you don’t mind me asking!” 

     X removed the syringe and set the tube of blood down on the sampling tray. “Twenty-seven.” 

     His eyes widened in surprise: she was four years younger than him! He didn’t think doctors could start practising on their own until they were at least thirty or something. “Wow, that’s … pretty impressive.”

     X turned back around to face him and shot him a little wink that had his stomach flipping over. 

     “I’m a fast learner,” she joked. She reached into a drawer and took out a small tube, then she stood up and started pulling on some gloves. “Could you get on the bed, Miguel? I’ll be conducting your prostate exam now. It should only take a minute or two.” 

     Miguel felt his entire body heat up at her request - he’d completely forgotten about that part of the checkup! But how the hell was he supposed to let this pretty little doctor stick her fingers up his ass?! “Uh, right.” 

     Miguel walked over to the bed and started undoing his belt and zip, making sure to keep himself turned away from her. Dios, this was so awkward! Or maybe he was just making it awkward? She was a doctor, after all: she’d probably done this a hundred other times, with a hundred other men. He dropped his pants and underwear and climbed up onto the bed, waiting as she coated her fingers with the lube she’d taken out. 

     “I love it when a man knows how to listen,” X joked, placing her hands on his cheeks. Joder. How could she say that? How could she tease him like that when her slender fingers were gliding all over his skin and gently prodding around in his ass? F*ck. “Are you sexually active?” 

     “Uh, yes. But not recently!” Coño, why did he say that? And so quickly too, like he wanted her to know he was available or something? Available for what?! “I’ve just … been a little busy with work lately.” 

     “Hmm.” He was really cute, the way he kept shifting around and clearing his throat and sneaking nervous glances at her. And so hot too, with his dark hair and his sculpted features and his perfectly crafted physique. Shit. She was so glad Dr Jefferson had decided to retire. “What kind of work do you do?” 

     “Just research,” Miguel responded vaguely, too distracted by the feeling of her long fingers brushing against him to focus on anything else. Finally, she pulled away from him and he couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. Bien, it was over. Now he could leave and request to be transferred to a different doctor - someone older and meaner who wouldn’t make him start getting hard every time they so much as smiled at him. Mierda, he was such an idiot. 

     “Feels good!” X informed him, taking a step back so he could push himself up off the bed. “Should we do a fertility check now?” 

     A what? Dr Jefferson had never suggested such a thing before. Miguel twisted his head back to look at her before posing the question. “A what?” 

     “A fertility check,” she repeated, already feeling her underwear starting to get damp at the thought of his cock. “Don’t tell me Dr Jefferson never did one for you.” 

     She said it so casually, like it was a normal part of the examination that he’d maybe missed out on. So maybe Dr Jefferson had just forgotten about it? 

     “Um, no.” He pulled his underwear back up over his waist and then turned around to face her. “What does it involve?” He glanced up at her briefly and felt the blood begin to redirect itself to his cock at the mischievous glint in her eyes. But it was a ‘fertility’ check - what else was he supposed to think it would involve?

     “Well, first,” X began, taking a slow step towards him. “I’m going to want to make sure that your testicles are all in order: no abnormal lumps or anything like that. Then I’m going to need a sample of your sperm.”

     She placed her hands on the bed - in the space between his legs, right in front of his rapidly hardening cock - and tilted her head as she gave him a challenging smirk. “Are you up for that, Dr O’Hara?” 

     He swallowed hard and shifted in position as he thought about it - as he tried to think about it, all his thoughts currently focused on if she tasted as sweet as she smelled. But coño, she was his p*nche doctor, for f*ck’s sake! How disrespectful of him to be having such thoughts about her! “Uh, if … if you think it’s necessary.”

     Shit, he was so cute! How could someone so hot be so nervous?! She straightened and tried not to let her lips stretch too wide as she lowered her gaze to his crotch. “Pants off, please.” 

     Miguel glanced away from her and cleared his throat as he slid his underwear back down. His eyes flickered back up to her when she didn’t do anything, and he felt his cock twitch when he saw the way she bit her lip at the sight of him. F*ck. 

     Wow. He was hard? Already? For her? X looked up to find him already looking at her, and he dropped his gaze quickly when their eyes met. She grinned and got down on her knees to pull his pants off entirely. 

     She was … a little enthusiastic in the way she ripped his pants off. But maybe she just wanted to get it over with? She was probably busy, after all, with a whole list of patients to get through today. And that was the last rational thought he could remember having, because then her hands were on his balls, her fingers stroking and kneading him so carefully, so gently. Miguel sucked in a breath and gripped onto the edges of the bed at the sensation and she looked up at him in question. 

     “Everything all right, doctor?” she asked, a hint of teasing in her voice as she said it. F*ck, this was so embarrassing! How could he be getting hard for his doctor while she was just trying to conduct a routine exam? Miguel didn’t trust himself to keep his voice steady if he spoke, so he settled for just nodding instead. X grinned and turned her attention back to his cock, the tip already red and swollen for her. 

     “Miguel …” she began slowly, licking her lips at the sight of his engorged cock - he was so big, she couldn’t even wrap her fingers all the way around him! Shit, he was hot! “Do you think I could … use my hands? Without the gloves, I mean. I could … get a better feel of things …” 

     She fluttered her eyelashes up at him pleadingly and f*ck, how could he resist her when she was looking up at him like that, her dark eyes all wide and pretty? He nodded again and she took off her gloves before returning her hands back to his cock. 

     Coño, it felt even better; having her smooth skin running over his cock and brushing along his length so delicately. She circled his slit with her thumb while she moved her other hand back to his balls and he had to bite down on his tongue to stop a groan from escaping his throat. 

     She wished he wasn’t so shy - she wanted to hear the satisfied groans and moans fall from his lips as she played with him. He just had such a nice voice, so deep and so gentle, and she’d have loved to hear him vocalise the pleasure he was deriving from having her hands all over him. Maybe she should try something else? 

     “Miguel,” X called to him, her gaze fixed on his cock as she stroked and squeezed him gently. “I’m … running out of lubricant. Do you mind if I …” 

     She looked up at him and licked her lips and he felt his heart start thudding in his chest at the hungry look in her eyes. ¡P*ta madre! How was it even possible for her to get any prettier?! Sitting there in between his legs, her delicate hands pumping his cock slowly, the tip just inches from her mouth. He knew exactly what she was asking him without her even having to finish the sentence. Miguel found himself nodding in agreement and X’s features lit up with delight. 

     She leaned forward and gave his tip a kitten lick - so light he barely felt it. Then she dragged her tongue harder against his slit and his entire body shuddered at the feeling. She snickered at his response, then swirled her tongue around his length, her head moving forward slowly so she could pull him into her mouth. And then he was inside of her, her mouth warm and wet around his cock, her tongue trailing along his length as she bobbed her head up and down. 

     “F*ck!” Miguel exclaimed, digging his fingers into the bed. X chuckled at his response, then pulled him deep into her mouth before giving a satisfied moan. Miguel shivered again as the vibrations of her voice danced along his length and then he let out a low groan. Coño, he wished he could reach out and grab her head, hold her in position while he f*cked that pretty little mouth of hers. Mierda, she felt good. 

     Holy shit! Holy shit, he sounded so good! And he felt amazing too, sitting there so obediently while she licked and sucked on his dick. She dragged her fingernails along his thighs and let out another moan before pushing her head forward, taking him all the way into her mouth and then swallowing around him. 

     “F**********ck!” Miguel’s head fell back in pleasure and he bit his lip as his cock began throbbing inside her mouth. Then she pulled her head back, dragging him out of her mouth before she sat back to look up at him. 

     “Miguel.” She swallowed hard at the sight of him, his chest heaving with shallow breaths, his eyes glazed over with lust, and her stomach flipped. “I don’t … want to get anything on my clothes. Are you all right if I take them off? Just until I get the sample!” 

     She gave him an innocent look, blinking her curly lashes up at him as she waited for his response. But f*ck, he could see the mischief hovering on the edges of her expression, her rosy lips curling at the ends as she let her fingers go back to stroking and fisting his cock. Did he really feel that good? So good that she refused to let any part of her body lose contact with his? Or was she just trying to be a good doctor and get him to come so she could get a sample of his sperm? She ran her tongue across her lips, licking up the prec*m smeared all over them, and he felt his cock give another twitch at the sight. X grinned, delighted, and Miguel guessed that he must have nodded his head without even realising it. Because then she was standing in front of him, her pretty little body completely bare before him so that he could trail his eyes over her tanned skin and her perky tits and her perfectly curved waist. “Mierda.” 

     His cock jerked at the sight of her naked and X giggled before climbing up onto the bed and straddling him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned forward, bringing her mouth close to his. 

     “I’m still going to need that sample, Dr O’Hara,” she informed him, her voice low and seductive as she spoke. She tilted her head and he followed the movement, his lips chasing hers instinctively. She grinned at the dazed look on his face and pressed her lips to his gently, brushing them against his as she spoke. “Are you going to give it to me? Are you gonna … Are you gonna come for me, Miguel? Or am I gonna have to make you?” 

     He slid his hands along her sides as they kissed, groaning at the feeling of her tongue tangling with his - mierda, she tasted sweet - then he lowered his hands to her ass and dug his fingers into her soft flesh before tugging her even closer to him. “F*ck, you’re so soft. And so f*cking pretty.” 

     X chuckled against his lips as she continued to move her mouth against his, her hands sliding into his hair to tangle in the strands. “Prettier than Dr Jefferson?” 

     Miguel didn’t respond, choosing instead to move his hands around to her breasts as he continued to lick into her mouth. X gasped as he began to knead her breasts gently, then she felt her p*ssy start to leak again as he circled her nipples with his thumbs. 

     “Mmm, Miguel,” she squeaked into his mouth, her body beginning to contract as he stimulated her. She sank against his chest and he nipped at her lower lip before wrapping his arms around her waist and moving his lips to her neck. Her head fell back as he grazed his teeth along her throat, and she let out a whimper when he nibbled on her collarbone before kissing and licking his way back up to her jaw. “Miguel, do you … Do you want to take your shirt off? You seem … You seem to be running a little hot, Dr O’Hara.”  

     “Mmm,” Miguel moaned against her skin as he glided his hands up her back. He was too focused on how soft she felt in his arms to pay attention to what she was saying. “Hmm? Yeah, whatever.” 

     X let her hands drift down to the hem of his shirt as he continued to press open-mouth kisses to her neck and shoulder, then she pulled his shirt off. 

     “Shit,” she groaned, licking her lips at the sight of his broad chest and hard abdomen. She ran her hands along his glistening skin, appreciating the defined ridges of his muscles, then wrapped herself around him so that her breasts were pressing into his chest. “Mmm, Miguel.” 

     She started kissing him again, rolling her hips against his and delighting in how warm he felt against her, his bare skin sliding against her own. He gripped onto her ass and she giggled as he started moving her harder against him, her soaked p*ssy rubbing against his stiff cock. 

     “Miguel,” X began again, moving her lips to his neck so she could lick the sweat off of his skin. Shit, he tasted good. “Aren’t you gonna come for me, doctor? Aren’t you …” She let out another soft moan and Miguel squeezed her ass again in response. 

     “You want me to come for you?” he asked, slipping his hand in between their bodies to try to find his cock. “You want me to come for you, princesa? I’ll come for you, just … just let me …” He fumbled with his cock, trying to guide it into her hole as she continued to lick and nibble on his neck. Mierda, how was she so wet already? How could she be so aroused by him when he hadn’t even done anything - just sat there and listened to what she’d said? Was she just that attracted to him? Joder, that was hot. 

     “Mmm, you need some help, Miguel?” X asked, grinning when she felt him trying to slide himself into her. “You need to feel my p*ssy squeezing around this deliciously huge cock of yours before you let me get a taste of your c*m?” 

     “F************ck!” Miguel groaned, his head falling back in pleasure at her dirty words. How could she say that? How could his pretty little doctor just sit there and suck on his dick? And then climb up on top of him and tease him with her tight little body? F*ck, she was hot. X leaned forward and nipped at his jaw and he sighed at the feeling before returning his gaze to hers. She continued to fix him with that naughty grin as she curled her fingers around his cock and started sliding him into her.

He dug his fingers into her waist and kept his eyes locked on her face as she wriggled her hips, taking him deeper and deeper into her body. And then he was balls deep inside of her, her warm and wet p*ssy throbbing around his cock pleadingly, and he didn’t think he’d ever felt so good in his life. She reached up to brush her fingers along his cheek, and he clenched his jaw as her body contracted around him. 

     “Miguel!” she whimpered, her lips twisting into a sweet little pout that had him growling and thrusting himself into her insistently. 

     “Yes?” he asked her, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he kept them trained on her face. “Yes, doctor?” Carajo, she felt good, so soft and so f*cking tight around his dick. She gripped onto his shoulders as her body contorted with another contraction and he bit down on her shoulder as his abdomen began to tighten. X slid her fingers into his hair and continued whining and moaning as he kept pumping his cock in and out of her p*ssy. It drove him crazy, the little sounds she kept making, and it wasn’t long until he was coming inside of her, his warm and sticky c*m shooting into her cervix and painting her walls white. She shuddered at the feeling of him filling her up, and then she was coming too, her tight little p*ssy squeezing around his dick and milking him for all he was worth. He kept his arms around her and held her against him until she was done, then she straightened. 

     “Mmm, your flow rate seems good, Dr O’Hara,” she told him, smiling against his mouth as he pressed soft kisses to her lips. She slid her tongue into his mouth and swirled it around before pulling back and getting up off of him. Miguel shifted in position as she began picking her clothes off the floor, his body heating up in embarrassment at the sight of the c*m soaking his thighs. 

     “Uh, don’t you … don’t you need to take a sample?” he asked her, staunchly refusing to meet her gaze. X turned back to him and grinned when she saw him getting all shy again. She bent over and took hold of his cock, bringing her mouth centimetres away from it as she looked up at him. Then she parted her lips and dragged her tongue along his length before closing her mouth around him and licking him up. Miguel sucked in a breath and gripped onto the edge of the bed as she let out a satisfied moan. Finally, she released him with a wet ‘pop’ and stood up again, flashing him a naughty grin.

     “Tastes healthy,” she informed him, sliding her hand up his chest. She leaned forward to kiss him again, spreading the salty taste of him over to his mouth, then she nipped at his lower lip before pulling away from him. “That will be all for today, Dr O’Hara. Don’t forget to make a follow-up appointment with the nurse on the way out - we still have to discuss the results of your blood test.” 

     “Uh, right.” He swallowed hard at the thought of seeing her again; of having to come in and act like nothing had ever happened - like they hadn’t just had sex on her examination bed! But … he did want to see her again. Just … not like this. Miguel slipped his shirt and underwear back on, then fiddled with his belt before pulling his pants back up over his legs. “You know, I could … If you gave me your number, we could … we could always discuss my results over dinner … or something …” 

     He glanced at her from beneath his eyelashes and bit his lip as he waited for her response. Her heart fluttered in her chest at the sight of him nervous before her - at him asking her out! - then she turned back to her desk and grabbed a piece of paper to scrawl her number on it. She swivelled back around to pass him the paper, but pulled her hand away before he could take it. 

     “Or,” she suggested instead, her mind working quickly to come up with a retort, “how about we discuss your results at that follow-up appointment, and then talk about something else at dinner?”

     She held the piece of paper out to him and his lips curled at the corners as he took it from her. “I’d like that, X.” 

     X’s smile stretched even wider at his response and she adjusted her shirt before heading back to her desk. “I’ll see you soon, Miguel!” 

     Before the week was up, if he had anything to say about it. He grinned and gave her a little salute before making his way to the door. “I’ll see you soon, Dr X.”

[its-a-ittle-bit-cold]

I just want to tell you I am (Jamie Tartt x reader)

1.2k

warnings: fluff, language? mention sex like once

summary: Rebecca and Keeley ask you a very suspicious question

a/n: short little engagement drabble <3

“How’s Jamie?”

You, Keeley and Rebecca have begun a tradition of pamper and girl talk before matches, almost every week. Each of you bring things for self care to a rotation house- this time yours- and spoil yourselves and each other. The three of you, the medical and technical director, the publicity mogul and the club owner, make a very unusual trio of three generations. 

You’re in the middle of putting on a bright blue rubber face mask with your hair up in a mask and dressed in your matching fuzzy robe when Keeley poses the question.

Rebecca busies herself with her nails, pretending to not be interested.

You can’t help a face-splitting smile as you gaze at one of the many pictures of the two of you on the wall of your shared residence with the famous football star player: Jamie Tartt himself. In this particular shot, Jamie is holding you up in front of a sunset, your hair flips down and covers both your faces, but if you look carefully, you can see jamie’s adoring eyes. 

patting the mask back on, you avert your eyes. 

“He’s… fine. Great. He’s great actually.”

Keeley tears the seal off a tube of teeth-whitening solution.

“You two are perfect for each other,” She tells you. “You don’t take any of his shit. That’s really good.”

Rebecca flashes her white shimmer nails. Both you and Keeley ooh and ahhh at them.

“you’ve been good for him,” the oldest in the room tells you. “He’s been very good for you, as well.” 

You smile at your two closest friends. 

“d’you reckon you’d marry him?” Keeley asks suddenly. “like, if he proposed tomorrow, what’d you say?”

You stare past her at the screen.

another one of the defining characteristics of your spa days is the sad movies playing in the background. You and your girls always love having a good crying movie in the background, especially if they have happy endings.

(you remember when you had the day at Keely and Roy’s place. The football coach walked in, took one look at the three of you crying while a screaming mother grieved on the huge flatscreen tv, and turned and walked out). In this particular movie, the boy who is sick is being sung to and he starts crying (unrealistically. he’s in a coma).

“It sounds crazy. I know, but i think i’d say yes,” you tell them. “I don’t know. I’ve never loved as hard as i love Jamie. It’s not going away, it’s only getting so much better.”

You watch Rebecca’s face carefully, trying to gauge her reaction. After her horrible experience with Rupert, how would she take this?

She looks like she’s trying to hide a smile.

“That’s great, babes,” she tells you. “really, really great.” 

“plus,” you add with a grin. “he’s really, really good in bed.”

“That’s a bonus right there,” rebecca exclaims.

The three of you soon brush the tooth whitening solution on and silently shed tears as the mom on screen begs for mercy.

this is the life.

The match today is a great one to see. Jamie flies on the pitch, and every time he scores he looks up at the box and blows you a kiss. You know he likes to fluster you, and this never fails to disappoint.

when there are only five minutes remaining, rebecca and Keeley stand up and grab one of your elbows each. 

“what’s going on?” you follow them, confused into the stands, and to the private elevator. “where are we going?” 

they share a look. Keeley squeals and rebecca squeezes your shoulders, but they don’t answer your question.

“You’ll just have to wait, my darling.”

you give them looks. They know you don’t particularly like waiting. You’re the one who always looks up spoilers for the movies you watch because you just can’t wait.

You descend past the entrance and to the pit. The smell of sweaty man bombards your nostrils but they keep walking. 

“you guys know you’re not allowed on the pitch, right?”

“don’t worry, babe, we’re not going to the pitch.”

“see even though you say that, it really feels like we’re headed straight into the tunnel that leads to the pitch.”

the second you step foot into the opening, the ref’s whistle blows. The three of you stop short as the crowd erupts into screams and the Richmond chant. Rebecca has her phone out. 

“What is going on?” you ask for what feels like the fifteen hundredth time. the whole Richmond team Is getting closer to you guys. Sam and Isaac don’t even say hello, they hoist you onto their shoulders and charge back out onto the field.

“put me down!” you are surrounded by the team - your family. “You two are super sweaty!”

once you reach the center circle they let you down. The whole team - and the other, for that matter, surround you. 

Jamie Tartt, your boyfriend, cuts through the circle, followed by all four coaches. 

he’s holding a microphone and a ring box in his hand.

you bring your hands up to your mouth and look to your sides. Sam and Jan Maas, the two closest to you give you the hugest, shit-eating smiles you’ve ever seen as jamie gets down on one knee, still in his kit, and flips the ring box lid. 

“(y/n), love.” his Mancunian accented voice reverberated throughout the gasping crowd. “I live you more than i’ve loved anyone in my life. I will never stop loving you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” he pauses and you  cover your eyes, sloppily wiping up the tears that have gathered in your eyes. “Do you want to spend the rest of yours with me? will you make me the luckiest man on the planet and marry me?” 

The crowd, the teams, and even the birds flying above seem suspended in this perfect moment. The moment your perfectly imperfect boyfriend becomes your fiancée.

you nod furiously. frantically. 

“yes,” you whisper. “of course i’ll marry you, Jamie.”

he quickly hands off the microphone and charges toward you, taking you into his arms and spinning around amidst the roar of the crowd and the teams gathered around you. You’re crying. you’re both crying. He kisses you in his arms and then takes the ring out of its box and slides it onto your finger.

You press your forehead against his and kiss him again, crying.

This is the moment you will remember forever.

+

When you get a moment of silence, jamie kisses you sweetly. 

“You don’t have to, love.” 

you pull back, startled. 

does he mean he wants to take it back?

“Jamie?”

“I put ya in the spot out there in the pitch. You don’t need to say yes right now. It’s okay.”

You can see the pain this statement causes in his eyes. You shake your head, new tears of happiness blooming for his consideration of you. 

“Jamie, I meant what i said. You are the love of my life, okay?” you hold out your hand. “And we’re getting married.”

He kisses you again, but this time, you can feel the promise of more behind his desperate, post game, adrenaline fueled lips.

should i make this a series?

[daisyychainssj]

Something about foolish and bad being two immortal beings who’ve had skewed morals since the beginning of their time on the island. One being able to hide it pretty well and the other always open about the fact that he sees actions and consequences differently. Everyone knows foolish is open to playing multiple sides and doesn’t really grasp the repercussions of certain things like mortals do (he didn’t really understand why people reacted the way they did to him arresting Pac e Mike) he’s always been pretty open about the fact that the only people he cares about being hurt, either directly or indirectly, by what he does is Leo and Vegetta. Then you have bad who is pretty much universally trusted on the island, it’s bbh like yeah sure he pulls silly pranks and stuff but he’d never really hurt them, right? BBH and Foolish are so similar in so many ways. At the end of the day the only people that bad has trusted without a shadow of a doubt is dapper and Pomme, he would die for his kids in a heartbeat. He also does not care if others have to die for them either and I don’t think anyone but Foolish really knows or understands that about him. Pomme and Dapper were in a certain sense, bad’s moral compass. He wouldn’t allow himself or others to do certain things because it could hurt them. Mines? Absolutely not, are you crazy that could kill an egg? The eggs are gone? Bad is blowing everyone and everything up. Leaving boxes with invisible and strong magmas that can pretty much two shot you, what if one of the eggs was to open them? No way, he could never? No eggs around? Everyone gets a killer magma cube whilst he laughs at seeing people downed by them repeatedly. Here’s the thing, bad and foolish obviously love and care for people on the island but I just don’t think they truly grasp it the way everyone else does, the only time they’ve come close is when they’ve loved something that was fragile. They’re kids. It gave them a taste of mortality and so they had to change. Now that they’ve had that love and lost it? I truly don’t think they give a fuck about the consequences of their actions anymore. Foolish literally asked bad last night “Does your family trump all other families?” And after bad told foolish that he was in his family (because they can understand eachother in a way no one else can and I think that brings a lot of comfort) he replied “to answer your question by the way, yeah I think it does” like bad is just openly admitting he will do ANYTHING to get dapper and Pomme back and it doesn’t matter to him what it costs and who gets in the way. I really think that if this does lead to BBH capturing Fred for info no matter how devastated tubbo is BBH Will. Not. Care. Fred is just another obstacle he has to get through to get his family back. And foolish understands that and is encouraging him to do so. Foolish understand because that’s the exact way he operates too. Tina said she would’ve died for Leo and Foolish immediate reaction was to be like “just to be clear I would take you up on that offer and trade your life for hers” and just the other day when Bad was being his usual self and saying he wanted to live at Foolish’s place and the moment he started messing with Leo’s room foolish lost his mind, wanted to arrest bad for even daring to touch such a sacred place and when asked about what the order would think he said if they didn’t understand how serious it was that bad tried to mess with Leo’s room that he Did. Not. Give. A. Fuck. I just think they’re both very willing to be ruthless no matter the consequence and the only person who really understands that is each other.

Q!LANDUO YOU’RE SO FASCINATING TO ME I WANT TO PUT YOU BOTH IN LITTLE TEST TUBES AND STUDY YOU

[savemeafruitjuice]

Wanted to write this for my friend @xavitron883, that is inspired by their artwork which you can find here! 👇👇👇

Note that this has spoilers for the Rise movie!! Okay here you go!

Lee! Casey Junior

Ler! Mikey

TW!: DEPICTION OF A MILD SCRATCH! (Just an accidental injury, nothing crazy, but they patch it right up!) Other than that just a turtle and his friend!

This shouldn't have been a big deal. Or, even anything worth noting in the first place.

All that had happened was that Casey had gotten a little scratch on his side, having a competition with Mikey over who could run the fastest across the lair, the boy having accidentally scraped against the table in his efforts to win the race. He would have lost anyways, though it was pretty obvious from the start that he couldn't outrun a literal mutant turtle, ESPECIALLY one with powers.

At his wince of pain, said box turtle had immediately stopped and told him to sit down so he could see if it was a bad scratch, and Casey had, lifting his sweater up to expose his now aching side.

"Hmm, it's not too bad. It'll probably bruise though. Want me to get you a bandaid?" Mikey had leaned down to inspect the scratch, already coloring his skin pink, clashing against his lighter colored flank. The raven-haired boy flushed a little at the attention, but nodded.

"Okay. You stay here, and I'll be right back!"

And so he waited, readjusting his grip on the soft knitted article bunched in his fingers as he watched Mikey walk out of the room.

Soon enough, the artist had come back with a bandage in hand, as well as a little tube of antibacterial cream, and sat back down next to the boy. The teen put some of the cream on his finger before carefully reaching his finger over.

Casey immediately became hyper-aware of the finger about to graze his side, breath hitching as he struggled to calm himself. The orange-themed turtle, ever the observer, immediately noticed the way his stomach sucked in slightly, and the small smile creeping into the other's face.

In all honestly, Casey couldn't stop thinking about fingers wiggling across his sides, or squeezing his knees, or.. just being tickled in general, all day. It was beyond embarrassing to admit- to even think about when Mikey was here just trying to help, kind actions and words sent his way, while here he was, struggling with a lee mood.

"Case..? You okay?"

Casey nodded quickly, wanting so badly to tear his eyes away and just not be so sensitive, but his body had other plans. "I'm fine, nothing's wrong!" He finally was able to look away, hiding his face in the neck of his sweater as Mikey looked at him curiously. The turtle shrugged, and swiped his finger over the hurt area, eliciting a yelp from the other.

"It doesn't hurt that bad, does it?" the artist asked, voice laced with concern for the other, only seeming to further the raven-haired boy's embarrassment. "No.. It's nothing. You can keep going."

Mikey immediately pouted, sensing something off about the teen, but ultimately focused on unwrapping the bandaid as he eyed Casey, whose eyes were once again glued to the hand raised over his side, twitching uneasily on the floor.

The turtle teen pressed the bandage to his side, gauging all of his reactions as he smoothed the thin material over the boy's skin. He saw how Casey had tensed up, still mistaking it for pain, until a small giggle escape from his lips.

"Wait... Casey, what was that?" Mikey asked, slowly starting to piece together the other's actions, as said teen covered his flushed face with his hand. "I.." he sighed. "Sorry, it kind of tickled. I didn't mean to make a bi-"

The empath stopped him before he could carry on, a surprised smile resting on his features. "Oh. Hehe, oops! Wow, and I was barely doing anything! You must be pretty ticklish." Casey dropped the hem of his sweater from his hands, the cloth once more covering the now bandaged surface of his skin as he averted eye contact. Butterflies were flapping in his stomach, Mikey's words only empowering his current mood.

"Uhm- Ihi.." Words were failing the dark-eyed teen, letting out a sigh. Maybe he could just ask him? Casey stuttered for another second, before finding enough composure to ask. "Can.. Can you tickle me?"

Mikey immediately lit up, smile widening as he chirped. "Sure!"

The raven-haired boy squeaked as wiggling fingers came towards him, fight or flight instinct going crazy for a second before he could fight it down. "I'm not dohohoing anything, why ahare you laughing?" The artist giggled along with him, hands moving to wiggle just above his sides, and grabbed the boy to hold in his lap.

"Ihi- I duhunnoho! AH!" It turned out that being grabbed with the impression that you're about to be tickled isn't the best for your nerves, seeing as Casey had practically screeched at the hands cupped under his arms, being picked up like some kind of cat, only to be faced with wiggling fingers dangerously close to his ribs.

"Dude, I haven't even touched you yet!"

He wrapped his arms around himself protectively, legs kicking out in giddy anticipation. "EEHEEHEEK! MIHIKEY, PLEASE!" The smaller jerked away from the hands, unable to control his reaction as his face flushed a deep pink. He squeezed his eyes shut, but soon realized that it was much worse not being able to see the hands, and quickly opened them again.

"Aww, you really are ticklish! Tickle tickle~"

Casey shook his head, scrunching his shoulders up, trying to evade the box turtle's hands as they inched closer. "JUHUHUST- JUST DOHO IHIHIT! EEK!"

Mikey decided to stop teasing him after a bit, shrugging. "Okahay! Here I cohome~" The artist crept his hands closer to the teen's sides, before digging under his armpits, drawing out bright laughter from the other.

"HAHAHA! M-MIHIKEHEY!"

Hello everyone! This was supposed to come out yesterday, but it was really late for me and I couldn't proof-read properly. I apologize for it being pretty short, but I hope you like it! Have a great day/night!

[marvel-and-chicago-fan]

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: Yelling, Mentions of shooting, Harassment, Assault, Fighting, Guns, and Attempted murder. I think that's all tell me if i missed anything

A/n: I have finally finished 🎉. I hope y’all enjoy this as much I as I did

Summary: You get into a fight at school and Hailey helps you and your brother to stop fighting.

————————————————————————

It was a chilly, no… freezing day in Chicago. It was snowing but not as much currently because the storm is supposed to hit later tonight.

You decided to walk to the firehouse instead of riding the bus because you didn’t feel like hearing everyone screaming whenever the bus would almost crash, even though you were one of those people with your friends.

Your class won a food party because they collected the most votes on the door decoration contest. Luckily none of the food had strawberries. Because you deathly allergic to strawberries and always needed and Epi Pen with you just in case.

Which reminded you to tell Will or Jay that you needed a new one since you lost you last one when you went out sledding with them.

But when you opened your locker to get your backpack and Jacket there was a box of chocolate chip cookies.

~inside the box

don’t worry there’s no strawberries, 

-secret admire ;)

You screamed internally one because you lived  for Chocolate chip cookies and, you had a secret admirer?

*** 

On your way home you were starving since you didn’t eat much at school only really some fries from the restaurant.

So you decided to eat 2 cookies and let everyone else fight for the rest, they were yours after all. 

Opening the box carefully so you didn’t drop the box and whatever was in your hands.

You shoved the whistle cookie in your mouth. You may do girl things but you eat like a grown man, especially a football player.

Not even 10 seconds after swallowing the cookie your throat started to feel dry and you couldn’t breath 

(Give me a break today this is all going to be in mine right now)

“Shit. There’s no strawberries in these, unless.” You picked up a cookie and broke it in half. “What kind of physco put strawberries in chocolate. I- I need to get t-to the house”

***

You basically pushed everyone aside who tried to greet you and rushed to kitchen.

“Ayy, Y/n how’s my favorite Halstead sibling doing” Kelly joked

Jay hit Kelly in the elbow hard. “Cmon man it was a joke, I can have favorites”

“Nah, I see how it is, guess I’m never bringing food over here again. And you can keep Y/n forever then” Jay shrugged.

“I was just trying to cheer her up, she looks upset” Kelly usually payed attention to

Your face whenever you came in. He would know if it was ok to make jokes or he needed to pull you to side and talk to you. Right now you liked upset but that’s because you weren’t processing anything.

But clearly ignoring everyone was for nothing because you barley made it to your drawer of the kitchen before you fell and your backpack cushioned your fall.

At least you’d didn’t  hit  your head.

“Y/n you good?” Jay stood up from the chair he was sitting at. This was so unlike you. You always came in and said “Hi” or “Hello” to everyone weather or not you were having a bad day

Hailey practically runs in due to all the commotion with Stella and Sylvie right behind her

Hailey picked up the box and your backpack so it was out of the way but when she looked in the box she saw something that she thought you wouldn’t have. 

“Shit, where does Y/n keep all her stuff in here” Hailey was looking at both Sylvie and Stella but she hoping at least both of them answer.

“Uhh bottom drawer far left”

Hailey rummaged through the draw untill she found a tube with a bright orange tip. And sprinted to you and pushed everyone out of the way.

As everyone was yelling at Hailey like she was crazy she rolled up your pant legs and Jabbed the Epi Pen in the middle of your thigh.

“HAILEY ARE YOU CRAZY? WE DONT EVEN KNOW WHATS WRONG WITH HER” Jay screamed 

“Strawberries- she had strawberries” She sighed

***

My head feels like it’s underwater

Everything seems so muffled 

What-what happened?

Your eyes flutter open and immediately shut them due to the light.

“Cmon y/n come on back to us” a soft voice says

“Give her space guys” as time goes on the voices get louder and it forces you to open your eyes. 

“Just rest, we’re not gonna push you to talk, we’ll talk at home. We’re gonna leave soon”

Hailey had to go home while you were passed out because she had an early shift tomorrow so Will drove over to the firehouse to come and get both you and Jay.

“How is she?” Jay looked in his rear view mirror to see you guys.

Will checked your pulse again and looked at the watch on his wrist “her pulse is better but her breathing is slow, I might give her oxygen when we get home”

“Why would she eat strawberries?” 

“They were cookie Jay, maybe she didn’t know. It happens” 

“Well it better have been an accident or me her are gonna have a serious talk” Jay grumbled 

“Don’t be to harsh on her”

****

You woke up around 5:30am and couldn’t go back to sleep, and the one thing you hated the oxygen.

You’d much rather have the nasal one but you can’t exactly argue with adults on what’s better for your health so you just have to deal with the mask. 

Eventually it got hot and you got bored since you couldn’t find your phone you assumed it was still at the fire house or Jay had it.

You dragged your little tank/ machine across the room and grabbed your comforter (the very top blanket on your bed) and your pillows and one stuff animal  and stuffed them into the bath tub and you found your laptop and you put on your favorite show.

This was better than being in your bed. 

Will woke up to sounds of Jay screaming in his ear. So much for trying to sleep in.

“Wake up, Y/n’s gone she’s not in her bed” Jay almost screamed at the top of his lungs.

“Are you crazy? Check her bathroom, I found her sleeping in there one time after a reaction and I hear sounds coming from there this morning” Will turned his back to Jay.

Jay ran into your bathroom which was connected to your bedroom and what he saw made his heart melt. 

*** 

“Here’s the real story, the PTO had a cookie drive where you could buy cookies for your friends and stuff like that and they would put it in your locker and we would find them, mine had a note that just said that “thanks for being great friend, don’t worry there’s no strawberries” Okay, so maybe you lied a little but it’s better than jay beating up some poor boy.

“Did it say from who?” Jay asked in his detective tone

“Nope, and I’m pretty sure Hailey told me she threw the box away while I was passed out” you shrugged.

“I guess it’s fine, maybe the PTO forgot. It’s not like anyone hurt you on purpose so it fine. Right jay” Will sent jay that look to just drop this subject this one time.

“Yeah right…” Jay picked at his pancakes. He wanted to look in to it more but Hailey would kill him.

But… the laughing and the image of you guys faded into his mind.

Flashback end… (WHAT?!??)

Will realized it, it was Milly. Milly was somewhat an old friend of yours and he remembered the day you said you told her that you were allergic to strawberries when she was over. You’ve only been allergic for around a year and half. There hadn’t been anyone else you told. 

Except for Milly…

Will shot up from the couch grabbed his keys from the bowl and ran outside to his car.

Will attempted to call Jay but he didn’t answer. So he was probably out with Hailey. 

“Jay when you get this meet me at the Jail they have Y/n at immediately. There’s not a lot of time” 

***

“Uhh yeah, I just opened my locker and the they were there. I didn’t think anything of it, I guess I was just excited” You shrugged.

“Did you tell anyone else about your allergy other than Milly” Jay spoke

“No, not untill after the incident, I honestly don’t remember much from that day, but i don’t really care to be honest.” You shrugged once again.

“Y/n listen to me, you’re going to have another court date. You’re going to tell everyone exactly what you told us. We’ll get security footage from the school and we’ll also get statements from everyone at the house” You’re lawyer was pretty strict and prescient on getting you out.

It wasn’t the first time someone has gone against Milly in court and you’re lawyer had won 4 cases against 2 

***

1 year and 7 months ago

“Well well well isn’t it the detectives little sister?” 

“What did I do not milly?” You sighed.

“Nothing, I just wanna make your life a living hell. Your brother is horrible and if I can’t do anything to him I might as well hurt what’s best to him, his little sister-.” Milly had a smirk on her face.

“Please Milly, I’m just trying to fix my makeup” you rolled your eyes and looked back at the mirror.

“Let’s see if make up can fix this” before you could ask her what she meant you felt stinging on your right eye.

[bellofthemeadow]

Blended Hearts and Bitter Brew | Part 2

Summary: Your life was boring, hoping for your big break, you were stuck at Starbucks for what felt like forever. The hot metalhead that just came through your door might just be the amount of shit-stirring fun you've been looking for. (3.8K)

A/N: Hey everyone, I am very sorry for the delay for this chapter, its been quite crazy at work and with the ini starting again (MY LAST ONE YEHHH!), things have been even more intense. So, it's safe to say it's been quite a whirlwind. I also had to delete my previous post because I encountered an issue with the chapter that required me to go back and make some fixes. I'm hopeful that everything is resolved now - fingers crossed!

Additionally, I'd like to extend an invitation to anyone who may have questions or requests for me. I would be absolutely thrilled to have the opportunity to work on them. I'll be away for a few days, and there's nothing I'd love more than to find myself writing by the lake, to be honest. Thank you all for all of your support and kind words, I love you all very much!!

Taglist: @hehekittyhawk

Warning: SMUT, phone sex, discussion of sex, masturbation, wearing, suggestive language, reference to bratting and brat taming (18+) (no minors like at all!!!)

The Phone Call

Usually, after a long day at work, you were more than ready to head home and collapse on the couch while munching on an entire box of hot pockets. Today was a bit different, though. For the first time in a long while, you were actually... excited! Still riding the high from your encounter with Eddie, you took the extra 10 minutes out of your way to stop at the corner store and grab the second cheapest bottle of wine (Fancy) that you could find! Cradling the bottle like you were Gollum with the ring, you were ready to let loose and get a bit frisky.

You got home quickly, stepping through the streets of Indianapolis, your overheated mood a total contrast to the frosty outside. After a quick shower where you made sure to scrub every inch of your skin, which was now pinkish from the scalding heat of the water, you put on your favourite black satiny robe. The soft frock hugged you deliciously, flowing around you like water and reaching just beneath your ass, highlighting its fleshy curve. In front of your antique floor mirror that you’d found in a second-hand shop, you gave yourself a saucy wink while twirling like a damn Jewelry box ballerina. A slutty ballerina, in your case.

You giggled to yourself as you sifted through the kitchen drawer, searching for the candle you were certain you'd received during last year's Secret Santa. Your hand moved blindly, finally identifying the candle's rounded shape with your extended fingers. As you grasped it, you opened the container and took a deep sniff—Peppermint Mocha. You snorted; your manager really was an unimaginative dick. Well, it would have to do for tonight.

You lit it up using the lighter you had stashed under one of your flowerpots for smoking emergencies. You had promised yourself that you would cut back on smoking this year, but every once in a while, nothing could help ease the tension like a good cigarette. It was also unmatched after sex, although THAT front had been pretty quiet in the last few months. Perhaps Eddie could help resolve that, you thought with a cheeky smirk as you imagined him pulling harshly on your hair as you devoured his tattooed neck.

You let the pepperminty aroma waft through the room as you started to set the mood around your little shoebox studio. It wasn’t much – barely enough space for a double bed and a small round table – but it was all yours. You didn't have to share with anybody, didn’t have to abide by anyone’s schedule but your own. If you wanted to get high and eat ice cream straight out of the tube, or if you wanted to practice the riff you couldn’t quite get right on your guitar until early morning, or if, like tonight, you wanted to set a sultry mood and masturbate thinking about Eddie’s tattooed chest… Well, you damn well could.

You sink down to the ground and settle onto your round, fluffy carpet. This very carpet had been among the first pieces you had bought after settling in your new life in Indianapolis. Regret over this purchase had never crossed your mind; its deep burgundy shade harmonizes exquisitely with the studio's dusky tones. And right now, as you reach for your vinyl collection, you can feel all of its fibers against your bare legs. Your senses heightened since the afternoon; its gentle touch now feels almost teasing against your puckered skin making you shiver deliciously.

You allow your index finger to roam over the spines of the hundreds of vinyl records stacked at the foot of your bed. There were so many of them that you reckon you could use them as a bedside table or something. You were quite proud of them if you were completely honest. You’d spent so much time curating this collection since your dad brought home a vinyl player for your 11th birthday. Your dad had insisted that "its sound is far superior to them boom boxes kids use these days." Along with the player, he had purchased your first ever metal album: "Master of Puppets," That night, you had both spent the rest of your birthday listening to the music with your dad, both huddled in the living room, heads bobbing to the harsh rhythm of the tracks—much to your mom's annoyance who must have shouted "SHUT IT DOWN" at least a dozen times before you’d gone to bed, feeling like your life had changed completely. After that, there was no turning back. Ripped jeans, short black skirts, fishnets, and leather became your uniform, and music became your greatest lover.

You reached out and retrieved the specific record you had in mind. Gently sliding the sleek, obsidian vinyl out from its protective sleeve, you cradled it delicately. As the stylus met the surface, K. K. Downing’s guitar strings struck like a punch to your senses, in a delectable impact of metal. The music flowed through you like an electric current, coursing through the grooves, infiltrating your ears, and permeating every fibre of your being, until you were immersed, entwined, and carried away by the raw yet exquisite sound.

Moved by the beat, you rose and started swaying back and forth, the music's rush flooding you until you didn’t exist. Music always held a flavour more alluring than any drink and a sensation more ravishing than any drug – music consistently brought you to a peak of euphoria that couldn't be replicated by anything else. You loved that feeling; the one where you would float over the world in your own little bubble, where no one and nothing mattered except for you and the music.

 Your hand found the bottle of wine resting on the kitchen counter, and you took a large gulp, letting the burning liquid cascade down your throat. With the buzz of the wine slowly enveloping you and the music infusing life into your being, you began to move your hands up and down your body, tracing your curves beneath the satin of your robe.

Swaying your hips to the music, you let your mind drift back to Eddie; his husky voice as he tried to tease you, the mischievous tint behind his hazel eyes that you hoped would, when properly provoked, turn more devious—perhaps even a touch wicked. You let your mind wander to what Eddie was hiding behind that Metallica shirt. With a teasing smile to yourself, your body swaying from side to side in a tantalizing shimmy, finding balance with the rhythm of the music.

Come crawling faster Obey your master Your life burns faster Obey your master, master

The sound of your phone ringing brought you back down. "No way he called already!" You dropped the volume of the music before grabbing your phone.

Unknown number

This was too good to be true! And right on time too as the song on the vinyl changed. "Burnin' Up" started to invade your ears. Grinning deviously, that was perfect timing, and you were more than ready to put on a show if Eddie was on the other side of that line.

“Hey there handsome, feeling desperate, are we?” you sultrily cooed.

“Good to know you are a little brat outside of work too.” Eddie’s harsh tone sent a shiver down your back while his words sent a clenching wave through your core.

“Aw, but I just did what you wanted me to do.” You added a quiver to your voice for full effect, “I just wanted to be a good girl for you…”

“Fuck, you can’t just say shit like that baby!” You let out your best teasing laugh.

“Why is that? Am I making you hard?” You questioned innocently, “Are you hard for me right now Eddie?” A strained sound made its way to your ears as you took another gulp of your wine “Am I being a good girl for you now?”

“Good girls don’t tease. Good girls don’t… arg… Good girls listen, and they don’t act like desperate little brats for attention! ‘That why you were acting like a spoiled little princess earlier? Ya wanted all my attention, like the desperate little slut you are.?Well, you have it now baby, so you better make it worth my while” You whimpered at his words, but you didn’t want to give into him – not yet anyway, you wanted to savour this as long as you could.

“Tch, don’t flatter yourself. I don’t need attention from wannabe metal douchebags, thank you very much.” A dark chuckle erupted from the phone.

“Tut, tut, tut. Baby, you can fool yourself all you want. But I can see right through your little spoiled brat display.  Beneath all that though, rocker girl thing you’ve got going on, all you want is for me to put you in your place. Am I right, or am I right?”

Fuck, he was too good at this. Most men you had been with had not really wanted to indulge in this fantasy of yours. Most of them had found it weird, not really understanding that when you were acting like a bitch you didn’t want to have a “conversation to settle our differences” as one of your exes so aptly put it. You snorted - No, what you wanted was for someone to grab you by your hair and spit in your mouth. And then, you wanted to cuddle, eat junk food and listen to music until your ears bled. But that was a bit too much to ask apparently.

“Where did your mind go baby? Am I too much for your little bratty ass?” Eddie teased through the phone.

Suddenly a wave of vulnerability like you’d never really felt before washed over you, making you extremely self-conscious. You felt stupid in your little satin robe, half drunk on wine and desperate for some guy you all but had 10 words with. Your skin was itchy, and you felt too hot like a hand had wrapped itself around your throat and squeezed. Fuck, what was wrong with you? For once, a guy was willing to indulge in your little kinky fantasy and what? You were gonna have a panic attack?! You didn’t even know the guy, why were your nerves on fire, why did it feel like you couldn’t disappoint him? Why were you feeling like you were teetering on the edge of a precipice, ready to plummet to your death?

Were you afraid of the fall, or were you afraid that no one would be there to catch you?

“… I’m sorry Eddie, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” You could feel tears gathering in your eyes.

“Fuck, shit.” You could hear Eddie scrambling on the other side of the line, “Did I go too far? Fuck I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Shit I should’ve checked for safe words before, shouldn’t have gone straight into it, it's just you drive me goddam mad honey.” A pause as he seemed to realize what he had just said, “Not like “mad-mad” more like lust-mad or – fuck, I don’t even know what I am saying and I’m rambling, and I probably sound like a complete maniac and…” You let him continue, his unfocused voice making you feel safe and maybe, just a little… understood.  

“s’ok Eddie. It’s me, it's just… I guess I got a bit scared because you know… You just seem a bit too good to be true.” Silence.

“WHAT?! I seem too good to be true?” His voice took on a misbelieving tone, “Have you looked at yourself? You are like the definition of hot!” You chuckled at his words,

 “Nah I am serious babe! Next to “HOT” in the dictionary, there is a photo of your face, I promise you that!”

You felt yourself grow warm under his words, “You’re just saying that…”

“Hey, don’t do that alright,” he counters sternly, his voice so full of certitude and assurance that it fills you with safety. You were so full of his words that you could pop at any moment, “I don’t say shit I don’t mean, never. And look,” a sheepish pause made you hold your breath, “You kinda intimidated me back there, you know. Like your fucking hot, and your witty and then I find out your kinky AF too? I mean, you’re like my dream girl brought to life. I feel like if I pinch myself you’ll disappear, like I made you up or something.”

You release a breath at his words, attempting to regain a modicum of composure you tease, “What like Pygmalion? Am I your Galatea then?”

“Baby, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Never mind…Did I kill the mood?” you ask in a squeaky voice.

In response, Eddie burst into a hearty laugh, “Nah baby you didn’t. It’ll take a lot more than that to scare me away from someone like you… How ‘bout we slow down? Maybe you could tell me what you were doing before I called you up.”

That you could do, "Well, I got back from work all flustered, just had to blow off some steam, you know? Poured myself some wine and put on Killing Machine..." A pronounced groan reached your ears.

“A tad controversial for a so-called metalhead to choose that record—a bit too... mainstream," Eddie quipped, his tone teasing. But your lips curled into an unabashed smile. "Maybe, but I was riding a Burnin' Up vibe, and needed the perfect backdrop. Anyway, a solid album's just that, regardless of how mainstream it might be." you bantered in return.

"Amen to that, baby. But tell true honey, was that all you were doing? Sitting around with music and a glass of wine?" Eddie inquiries with a touch of salaciousness in his tone.

"I might have been dancing... explored a bit beneath my robe—" you teasingly purred.

"Describe it," Eddie suddenly interrupted breathlessly.

" Oh, you want to know what I’m wearing? Is that what you want Eddie?" you replied teasingly.

"Don’t tease baby, be a good girl and describe what you’re wearing.”

You pause for dramatic effect, taking the time to compose your thoughts. "I'm in my black robe, it's all satin with lace, barely grazes below my ass..." you slowly croon, your voice a delicate whisper.

"Damn, keep talking, baby," Eddie's voice urges you, dripping with desire. "It caresses my skin so sensuously, makes me feel so good... Am I doing well?" you inquire, a mix of nervousness and anticipation in your voice.

"Absolutely amazing, baby. Have you touched yourself yet?" he inquires further.

"Just my tits, Eddie. I was kinda hoping you'd give me a call," you shily confess “Are you happy to hear how much I want you?"

"More than you can imagine baby, are you wet for me?” You could almost picture him; he was sitting in a nondescript room, perhaps with some Metallica posters and records strewed about, he’s clenching his teeth as you describe how much you want him, perhaps he took out his cock too. Is he touching himself, you wonder? Because right now, all you want is to dip one of your fingers inside your panty and relieve some of the tension that has been building since before you left for work.

“I’m so wet for you Eddie… I think I’ve been wet since before I left work, that’s how much you affect me. I want to show you that I'm not just a brat; I can behave, I can be your good girl" you say earnestly.

"I know you can be, but let me share a little secret with you, baby." Eddie pauses, and you hold your breath, awaiting his words. "Truth is, I kinda love it when you get all bratty on me..."

At his words, emotions erupted within you—a mélange of lust, desire, joy, and a tad of shyness. Each little butterfly fluttering deep within your belly in a symphony of feelings.

“There’s more of that where it came from,” you sheepishly admit, all too aware of your tendencies to tease and your strong-headedness. You lick your lip, and purr, “Are you hard right now Eddie? Are you as hard for me as I am wet for you?”

“Oh baby, I’m as hard as fucking Andúril right now!” Eddie loudly pants.

“… What did you just say?!” Nervous laughter meets your ear as Eddie stammers,

“No-nothing. It’s nothing. Forget I said anything.” With regained confidence, he continues,

“You gonna touch yourself baby? Come on, be a good girl and touch yourself with me.” 

You quickly fumble with your phone as you put it on speaker and lay it next to you on your bed. “I’m in bed…” You shakily exhale.

“Yeah? Me too honey. Now. Touch. Yourself.” His tone left no room for arguing. You could hear a belt unbuckle and a zipper coming undone amidst the rushing of fabric on the other side of the line making you shiver as you imagine him taking his heavy dick in his large hand.  

Slowly you hiked your fingers up your thigh, feeling the goosebumps rise under the trace of your nails. You reach under your robe, and you hiss as your index finger grazes your weeping pussy. “Ohh Eddie, I’m so wet, I’m dripping everywhere.”

“Fuck baby, I want to hear.” Blushing like mad you position your phone next to your dripping pussy before slipping your index inside, the wet squelching of your finger going in and out of your core sending pleasurable shivers down your spine as you imagine Eddie’s reaction on the other side of the line.

You breathlessly moan “You hear that, Eddie? You hear how much my bratty little pussy wants you?!”

“Fuck sweetheart, that’s the most metal music I’ve ever heard. My dick’s so hard right now, I feel like it’s gonna fall off.”

“I want to hear you too.” You frantically demand “Yeah? You want to hear me rub my dick baby? You’re such a perverted little girl!” Eddie didn’t need much convincing and all of the sudden you heard a loud plop, and a loud moan escaping Eddie’s throat. The sounds sending an arrow straight to your warm core; did Eddie just spit on his dick? The wet sound of his hand going up his dick was truly one of the sexiest things you’ve ever heard.   

“I’m close baby…” Eddie admitted between loud moans.

“Already?” you giggle breathlessly.

“Fuck, don’t be a brat now baby. You close too?”

“Mmm-hmm” You hummed “Not close enough.”

“How many fingers, you’ve got in that sweet little pussy baby?” Eddie pants, almost pained.

“Just the one Edd.” “Shit baby, add another one. Can you add another one for me, honey?” His words alone were almost enough to send you over the edge.

“Yes Eddie, Yes I can. Anything for you!” You whisper-shout into your phone.

You dip another finger inside, ripping a loud moan from your throat. You part your finger, frantically spreading your slick all over and making a mess over your sheet.  You curve your index toward you until you reach the spongey spot inside of you that feels oh so good. You rub and rub while your thumb aggressively circles your clit.

“Oh Eddie!! Mmmmm… Fuck, I’m close Ed, I’m so close! I don’t want to come alone!!”

“You won’t baby, you’ll come when I tell you to come. Not before.” Eddie pants into the phone. After what feels like forever, you feel the cord that had been steadily building inside of you start to grow taunt, teetering on the edge of snapping in half.

“Eddie… pleasepleaseplease! Please let me come!”

“FUCK! Come for me baby, I’m cumming!” His words send you over the edge and you see a white light blinding you as your body grows tense before letting go.

You can hear Eddie’s panting on the other side of the line while you try to catch your breath. Now sticky and half-naked with your robe open, you feel a wave of shyness overtake you.

“Eddie? Are you… Are you ok?” A loud laugh meets your ear.

“Am I ok, Baby? Pretty sure the Milky Way just exploded in my room. Damn, that was the hottest thing ever!!” You shyly chuckled at his sweet words.

“It wasn’t like… too much or anything?”

“Wait Baby… Was that your first-time having phone sex?” You grew hot and are quick to dispel any ideas he might get “No, not at all. But…” you hesitate, “But it’s the first time anyone ever made me feel like that before.”

“What? Orgasmic?” Eddie teases.

“Shut up!” You laugh before your traitorous vulnerable heart plants himself down your throat, “I meant like safe; you know. Like you wouldn’t make fun of me or like you actually wanted to hear me come. Like I really mattered for a minute and it wasn’t just about your dick.”

Eddie’s voice grew soft at your words “Baby, there is nothing that I would love more than hearing you come every day, it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. If you let me, I’d put it on a CD and listen to it on repeat.”

“You mean that?”

“With ever fibers of my being baby.” Eddie answers honestly. You can hear the truthfulness and the transparency in his voice. makes you feel better, and perhaps a little bolder, as you ask, "Does that mean you'd like to see me in real life again and not just when I have to serve coffee?" When Eddie doesn’t answer for a second you feel your heart drop down like a lead balloon.

"Or not," you chuckle, "I didn't mean to sound conceited. It's fine if you don't wan—"

Eddie cuts you off, "I'd love to, baby."

"You would?" you ask, your voice tainted with disbelief.

"I didn't mean to sound so unenthusiastic. It's just that I'm not used to having such a pretty girl proposition me like that. Had to pinch my ass to make sure it was real, ya know."

You laugh as your hand nervously toys with the lace of your robe. "So when would you like to see me?"

"How about tomorrow? Pancakes for dinner, and then if you want, I have a show with my band in town. You could come with."

"Yeah? You want to see me tomorrow?"

"Nothing else I'd rather do."

"There's nothing else I'd rather do either, Eddie."

“Then it’s a date… Be ready 'cause I’m gonna rock your world Baby!”

You giggle at his words “Can’t wait Eddie.” You look around you, with thighs still sticky with your pleasure—yeah, you really couldn't wait to see your rockstar again.

Next chapter

[augment-techs]

prompts based on lines from fanfics that hit different after the tenth read

Slayer, Slayer, Monster Killer//Into the den//A blazing Inferno//Defender of the Innocent

Cauterize the wound.

Blood quickly began to fill the water.

Blue tint surrounding the lips.

He'd take jazz over a symphony, rock over jazz, and a crazy buscar in the tube station creating something insane with a violin, a beat box, and a pedal drum over rock.

I also wrote a gay version, if anyone wants it.

The thinness of the shoulder bothered him.

The curse was simple but badly done; convoluted and too mixed up with his own energies to be easily removed.

"Your parents are fucked up. I'm serious, that's Fucked Up."

With a coat like blood. Like cherries. Like candy.

"...Correction...I might be bleeding."

It was the best protection he could give.

"I can't believe you just called your own behavior petty harassment."

Cleaner than he'd been in eight months.

"Go curse somebody else. He doesn't belong to you--you can't have him."

Never had to initiate a virgin before.

The thought was idle.

Imagine if you will...

"The game is over. Do you understand?"

He was pissing blood.

"You asked for respect, I'm giving it to you."

Too tired and weak to fight properly.

"I haven't felt any strong emotions since I was a kid."

"What color is the sky right now?"

"So they will be the same age. So they can have adventures."

"I'm done keeping secrets for you."

"Sure. Why not take away the last thing I have left."

'Pretend.' It rattles in his brain.

No wonder people talked.

"Although this totally explains why you were in love with me like once a year for three years in a row."

"No, I do not have a scrunchie."

He'd never been brave enough.

"It's basically a game of sexual preferences."

It wasn't the personality serum, but it was some form of mind control.

It had been so goddamn long since they had heard any sort of tune at all.

"It's one of my grounding techniques."

"Please. Never say anything like that again."

He was also good at being randomly, devastatingly kind.

"I bet I could pick you up. Wanna see if I can?"

"I will not elaborate."

Carefully lit gym thirst traps.

He bit his fist, dried his eyes, and didn't make a sound.

"Because I am through with you. You aren't worth the effort."

Sees them glimpsed in mirrors and reflective surfaces; and the newest ones most often.

"Thanks for letting me feel alright for a bit."

It was homemade, and heavy, and hurt.

"You're not afraid?"

It was just as well.

"If I planted something on him there's a chance it could get lost."

"You're too good for me."

"Please. I don't want you to disappear again."

With an awkward, coltish sort of grace that makes her look decades younger than she is.

'Strange' is a family trait.

"Just want to rest with you. This is good."

"I shot my dad when I was fifteen."

Refreshing. Invigorating--where the fuck are these words coming from?

"Go find a nice ditch to crawl into and die there, not on our floor."

"I'm used to the cold, darling. Don't worry. There are worse things to endure."

"They gave us twenty dollars for nothing."

"Amazing, for once, your remarkable ability to repulse and horrify women saves the day."

"...Okay, okay, don't look at me like that; I'm a huge asshole. But not in that way."

"Like organizing your pornography collection."

"I just need some time. Right now, I don't know what I'm feeling."

They started it out like the leads in a bad B Movie.

"I said that about Jaws. That movie was terrible by the way."

"You're still my first choice."

Three years in the womb.

To be honest, they'd expected to die.

Looking back on it now he felt like the biggest idiot for not realizing what a huge Red Flag that had been.

"You want to come with us?"

"Back then I didn't even know about consent."

"If my dad ever comes back from his 'business trip' you kill him and we're even."

They have no idea what their Tragic Backstory is, so they make up a new one every time someone asks.

Don't want to train today? Too bad, you either fight the giant centipede or DIE.

"They ain't that bad compared to some of the shit I've eaten."

"I hate being brainwashed. And mind controlled. And sold, and handled without asking, and...being a thing for people to have."

"The research I took to find the gag I was thinking of was very uncomfortable. No, Google, I don't want BDSM gags, please stop giving me that option."

"I have a room and extra blankets. You'd probably fit into a few of my shirts, too."

"You're not trying to burn my apartment down?"

'Oh. Oh, it's going to kill me.'

"You refuse to take a shot at Adolf Hitler because you are not a murderer."

"Because she totally didn't punch that guy to defend your honor, and you totally didn't swoon."

It's a perfectly common ingredient in a lot of cultures! There's blood pudding, blood soup, blood tofu--that's a real thing and it's delicious.

"Did you just make them tell us about their sexual awakening?"

It's red berry jam. It's not really blood at all. They just call it that to make their kids think they're tough blood-eating warriors.

"Now stop having a crisis about being an eldritch abomination."

And that's exactly why broken bones are a testament to their mercy.

"I've been gone a long time, haven't I?"

Seems like a normal breakfast, right?

They are not friends. And yet.

"They're innocent. They never asked for any of this."

"I thought you loved me, but you're just like everyone else."

The candies are always gone within a day.

Backpacking across the end of the world.

"I should be worth, like, at least two goats. Or even one of those cute mini pigs, maybe."

"Apparently I'm from the past and you're from the future."

"Well, I drove an ice cream truck and didn't die."

The common areas became populated with candles, dishes of salt near the doorways, little piles of pennies in crevices.

The small bruise they expected to see is not small at all. It's huge and almost black and it's spread against the entirety of the left side of the stomach.

"You mean because you beat the shit outta me? Nah. I've got a pretty high tolerance for getting beat up. Seems like I just end up friends with them, even when I lose my S/O to them."

[feyspeaker]

Picked up two prints! (And a sticker!)

Just so you know, I would legit pay for, like, a collection of your prints in a size somewhere between the mini and 11x14.

Like, I just want to put a *bunch* of them in a binder and just look at it sometimes lol

thank you so so much!!!! ;A; I have considered other sizes, but I live in a tiny place and my printing room is already full of too many sizes of paper/mailers/tubes/etc for what I do offer. I will keep it in mind but the sizes I have now are probably going to be pretty set for now.

About to go off on a tangent, so apologies for hijacking your sweet ask.

honestly this is still so crazy to me, thank you. I have been illustrating for years and years now, but really only found proper footing this year after taking a huge break from commissions and just hammering in what I really want to do with my life.

I've always preferred rendered painting but I felt like the market was so saturated and that I'd never be able to make a living doing it. Many of my older followers will know that for a couple of years I was really on this digital watercolor kick, doing more stylized work. It was extremely grueling despite being faster, bc I forced myself to work entirely on 1 layer with no eraser. It was faster for me to do and felt more "lucrative" as far as timeliness, but I was not very happy doing it, and did a lot of rendered painting studies in my free time, it was basically my "fun time" where I was doing one style for work and a totally different one for private pieces. Literally, I would be painting realistic block of cheese as my downtime.

I was so convinced that stylized stuff was what people wanted, and I have had boxes and boxes of prints I've bought and thrown away because they didn't sell.

Now that I am doing the kind of art my heart wants to do, I am so much happier and completely overwhelmed by how there are actually people who want to art I make for myself on their walls.

This is probably coming off so random but I've been thinking about it a lot, it really is true that you HAVE to paint what makes you happy. If you try to box yourself in to what seems the more "marketable" I promise you are going to be miserable. (Never stop challenging yourself, though. seriously.)

I have never been happier about the art I have created in the last 6 or so years of doing this professionally than I am now that I just said "fuck it, I am tired of painting anime-ish stylized stuff because that's what's in." It's like I've been forcing myself to jam a square block into a circle shaped hole for years. Not to mention that doing line art on literally over a thousand pieces (yes, I've counted, absolutely insane; comic artists please take care of yourselves) for years has well and truly fucked my hand up permanently, I fear.

Other artists, please listen to that little creature in your brain that's telling you it doesn't like painting anime girls or cats or thick chunky line art because that's what you think is popular. If painting nothing but hyperrealistic swords is where you heart is happiest, just do it and stop forcing yourself because I promise there are thousands of people out there who want to see your swords. Just make sure to throw in some jewels or filigree or whatever every once in a while to keep yourself challenged.

Sorry again for hijacking your message, I just am regularly blown away that somehow people actually like my art now that I like it. (Not that my older pieces are regrets btw, I think every single thing you paint no matter the style is worth its figurative weight in gold)