#but yeah. the brain gunk

[varietysky]

oohhhhh there's the gunk. there's the gunk in my brain

[wormwonder]

playing with circles O●°○•°o.

[skrunksthatwunk]

"i'm not disabled" followed immediately by "i've got bad knees and a bad back" is certainly something to read 🤨 you know it doesn't have to be cripling for it to count, right...? it's not normal to be in pain after 15 minutes of standing. ableds can stand for, like, an hour at a time before they need to sit.

i know! i appreciate the concern, but i uh. dunno lol. genuinely i don't know. but i included the afaik ("i'm not disabled afaik" was the original phrase, though i'm not like mad at you for excluding it or anything) because i'm well aware that it's a possibility. it's hard to explain but there's a lot of little things that don't add up to much but are like. noticeable. like i would prefer to do most things sitting, if i could, as a matter of comfort. it would be easier for me. and walking isn't as bad as just standing. i've never been great at taking care of my body, and this has only gotten worse with time. it's hard for me to know what i should read as necessity and what i should read as preference, and how much weight to put on said preferences. like you said, i know it doesn't need to be "if i don't sit down i'm going to collapse" or anything, but where to draw that line between Definitely A Medical Thing That Affects Me More Than Other People and.. not that, i'm not sure. i kinda just thought i was a persistently slightly tired and low energy person, but it doesn't seem bad enough to be chronic fatigue, so...? is it related to the half-diagnosed. idk it's complicated depression (and yes in hindsight i probably should've counted that as disabling but whatever)? idk it's not a rabbit hole i've explored much at all is my point. but i know it's there and uh i guess this was sort of validating in a way anon so.. yeah? yeah👍

[broughtteethtoagunfight]

I just watched day 1 of QSMP, Slime’s perspective and ohhhhh boyyyyyy

I need to go take a fucking ASPIRIN

[windrunner]

ultimate blogging

i am going to try to un-isolate a bit today after i finish cleaning up this section of my room but. i really wish there was some way i could tell my parents "hey you guys fighting each other constantly is impacting my ability to function as a person and my energy levels, and tbh it has since i was born. please stop" but... that would do nothing and also just cause them to get mad at me. lol

[vamph00n]

Facial ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ᡣ𐭩 mdni! femreaderxroomatehee

ᡣ𐭩 wc: 3k

ᡣ𐭩 synopsis: heeseung as a roomate? he’s fine, as a friend? better. it’s just heeseung, just the dude who happens to watch you fold and put away your underwear, and happens to watch you change when the bathroom door is slightly cracked open. he’s just your roomate. so what if he plays would you rather with explicit options occasionally?

ᡣ𐭩 smut tags under the cut.

ᡣ𐭩 consume what you can handle

smut tags: heeseung is a creep, reader is clueless, throat fucking, bj’s, facial duh, dubcon?, mentions of panty stealing and masturbation, mentions of bodily fluids, cum, cum eating, nasty make out, uses of the word angel,

lmk if i missed anything 🫶

enjoy!!

“no, not in a million years.” is what you said in response to a slightly unconventional question. but then again there’s no such thing between the two of you.

his arms rose in mock surrender, tilting his head at the validity of your reaction. “guess that type of thing isn’t for everyone.”

and it's not , he had just hoped that maybe you’d say something different. something to get his little computer fried brain working, running off of more than just the thought of an iniquitous act but an actual idea that was based in reality. that thing you’d hypothetically be doing. it would’ve fulfilled his nightly one handed habit better than using his left one to scroll through porn. knowing you’d do it? or have done it? that’s all he needs.

although met with disappointment, in that moment as you put away your neatly folded garments, heeseung captures a look of distaste and curiosity on your face. one that reads a lack of experience, not a lack of will. your nose scrunched at the idea, but the subtle way your lips pressed in a straight line told him. ahh it makes sense now. maybe it’s not that you’ve never considered it, but rather you’ve never tried it.

at your inconvenience, he’s still sprawled out on your bed despite demanding him to keep off. at times like this, you wonder, maybe it was a bad idea to find your roommate online, because you grossly underestimated how particular you were when it came to cleanliness. it’s not that germs freak you out, it’s that you’re rooming with a man. a recluse of one at that. yeah, he didn’t go out a lot and it’s not like he was rolling in a pile of shit; but you swore he wore the same sweater for two weeks straight without washing it, and used a three in one body wash. in a small apartment with one bathroom? those exemplar instances only lead up to future disagreements.

with the ability to ignore these minor quirks, you’d say that despite your differences you managed to become quite comfortable with him. so much so, that you seemed to brush off the fact that he was always in your room when you put away your underwear, how it went unnoticed by you when he lingered a little too long in friendly hugs, and smelled your hair a little too strongly when he’d ask what shampoo you used. cause why would you? it’s just heeseung.

maybe one of the biggest things you ignored was his odd game of would you rather. which is how we’re led up to the very question the man himself finds so interesting. initially you weren’t shocked by the ask, as he was just poking fun at how extensive your skincare routine was minutes prior.

“would you rather, not put all that gunk on your face or… let a guy give you a facial?

it’s not as outlandish as some other questions he’s asked, or as scandalous as experiences you’ve told him about. you already figured that he was just socially inept and thought nothing more of it. after all, he was an acquired taste. so of course you replied, and of course you would never because it’s nasty? at least maybe you thought it would be, because you’ve never tried it.

after lingering in your room for a bit longer, still pressing on about the question, it leads into a minor dispute. “seriously? why do you need that much stuff for your skin?” the boy sighs as he stretches out on your bed. you smack his face with a nearby throw pillow, and reiterate the same things you always tell him. maybe stuff like that didn’t matter to him, but to you it does because well, it makes you feel pretty.

whenever you talked like this, he couldn’t help but let his mind drift. if he could, and it didn’t mess up the established bond between you two; he would’ve totally told you how beautiful were.

but the idea of being “just heeseung”, a friend and a roomate; it was like a free pass to act perversely.

leaving him to his own devices, you wash up ignoring that the door was slightly cracked open. yet another thing you overlook, heeseung is a man. you knew that from the way he kept himself groomed, but otherwise? not so much. he knows how to get what he wants by being sneaky, and knows when not to be. although he’s starting to doubt that it’s just his scheming nature that’s aiding his desires, it’s the fact that you overlook everything he does.

his room, located at the nice spot in front of the bathroom, let his imagination run wild. the small gap in the door you left was occasionally big enough that he’d get a glance of your boobs in the reflection of the foggy mirror. those were nice times, and when you asked him to get you a towel because you forgot? even better. he watched intently and waited as you got out and dressed yourself in those pretty lace panties he held himself back from stealing.

pushing open the door as you lathered different serums onto your face, he couldn’t help but notice a certain resemblance of your white night cream. only making him wonder what else looked pretty spewed on your features. were you absolutely just in a shirt and underwear? yes but then again, it’s just heeseung. in the midst of your therapeutic regime, he starts fiddling with a bottle, confused with its contents.

“is this like water? what is it?” he says while sloshing the liquid around.

you snatch it from his grasp and say “it’s a toner.”

he nods placing it back where it was, and you take note of his hand placement. his arms snaked behind your back onto the counter locking you between his form. it’s nothing that you're entirely fazed by, it’s the intent stare he’s giving you through the reflection of the mirror as you look at the glowyness of your face that makes your heart jump.

heeseungs eyes darken, and he leans close to your ear still staring at your reflection.

“you said all this makes you look pretty, but I know a couple of other things that’ll look much better…”

you feel your heart stutter at the wispyness of his melodic voice saying suggestive things into your ear. in that moment he draws back his hand, and laces it through your hair grabbing it into a ponytail. you try to look over at his gaze from the side, but he grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at your reflection.

“look at yourself angel, maybe it’s the face that counts, not what you put on it.”

as you watch through the glass, his lips tug at the corners, the sight of your hair fisted into a ball in his grasp not ever being something you thought you’d let anyone do. let alone have heeseung do it. his free hand grips your hip, and now is when you start to notice how underdressed you were before him. his hand travels down your lower half, groping your ass, then he plays with the band of your undergarment. he feels the slight raise in your skin, and a look of anticipation on your face tells him all.

he released your hair, and pressed his hips against your backside, trapping you in place. he smells your shampoo, and feels the softness of your skin. momentarily, you don’t know what to feel, the only thing you know is that the man before you has rendered you compliant.

you feel his hands grip your hips, as his roll into you. hard, and restrained, you feel his length through the thin material of your panties. taking your shaky hand, and feeling it, oh man. it’s hot, and heavy. heeseungs chest rises and his body flinches, he hisses at the feeling. grabbing you in a stern manner, he spins you to face him.

the way you comply, the way you just sit before him in fear and possibly regret, he takes his hand to caress your face. maybe he feels bad because tears are welling in your eyes waiting to fall, or because he hasn’t even touched you yet, your body is tense in his grasp, scared at the mercy of him. it’s something he doesn’t want to admit turns him on. not yet at least.

for a second you find yourself staring into his eyes, a weird feeling of fear and arousal course through you. heeseung, just heeseung. he weighs his hangs on your shoulders, pushing you to the floor in which you land on your knees. he backs up, locking the door behind him.

“hey what the fu-“

then, when you tried to rise to your feet, his hands hold you down at the top of your head as you wince. without much thought, he drops his pants.

maybe you’re the creep, but you’ve seen his cock once. passing by his room late at night to get water, he had it out as he stroked it with one hand. you’ve stored that memory in the back of your mind, thinking that you were the one being perverse. or maybe he wanted you to see that, maybe he saw as you watched and let you, hoping you’d come in to help him.

with that memory playing back, it’s much bigger than you remember. looking at his glistening tip, and veiny shaft, you just admired it. the hazy feeling this situation had you thinking “no way this is real.” wondering what’ll happen when you wake up from this wet dream. for a little longer you ponder whether you’ve ever actually thought of heeseung in any way like this. no, you haven’t, but will you pass on the opportunity?

his figure casts a shadow over you, he looks down at his dick, and back at you.

“are you going to do something about it?”

this isn’t a dream.

you inch closer to his hips, and take your shakey hands to hold his member. a little shudder down his spine and an encouraging nod paired with a low moan, you wrap your lips around the head of him. tasting the large amount of dripping precum as you swirl your tongue, he throws his head back, the sensitivity not only shocking you but himself as well.

so no, you won’t pass on the opportunity.

the sounds he elicits as you work your mouth on merely the very tip of his girth, it makes you think less of how you got here; but rather how you want to draw this experience out longer. your delicate fingers caress the remaining that hang out of your mouth, feeling the grooves and patterns.

it’s tantalizing the way you tease at his vulnerable state, him becoming a mess under your control. only, you can’t tell he is, you just keep going. the vicious mix of your saliva and the filth seeping from his cock were a display that he wanted to burn into his retinas. at this point, if you kept going he might—

then, in a second a small wave of delirious ecstasy wash over him as you take hold of his neglected balls, feeling them up as you lick the little slit on his tip.

knowing, and feeling a bit ashamed he wouldn’t last long if you kept going, he pulls away. leveling with you on your slightly reddened knees, the sappy liquid seeps from the corners of your mouth, and he pulls you in for a kiss.

all you can think is how crazy this is, how crazy you are for just… enjoying it more than you thought you would. him looking that attractive, moaning out little slews, and jumbled bits of your name while doing barely anything? oh yeah, you’re right to be on your knees. it had your panties clinging to the sticky uncared for mess brewing within you, that all you could do was hope he didn’t notice you grinding back on your heel. a kiss, a nasty one at that, tied with the mix of his secretions and yours as his tongue explored your mouth; it was like a porn like.

as he draws back, you see the little glistening string of spit, and he wipes away the residue forming on the corners of his mouth. as you tilt your head, like you didn’t almost rock his world; he fucking knows your enjoying this, and wants to shut you up before you start to get too cocky.

still hard and erect, he stood and you look up. the corner of your lips pull, and god heeseung knows he’s gonna have fun with you. he gives his length one small stroke before peering at your glassy eyes stare.

“think you can take this all of this in there?” he ask rasplily, as he brushing your lip with his thumb parting them.

with your mouth wide open, insistent you can; do you ever recall being so nasty? maybe there was a time, but really, did you ever think it would be with just heeseung? no.

a more than satisfied look casts on his face, as he lets the tip of his dick rest on your togue. the way you salvate in anticipation, and him enjoying it makes your cunt wetter, and throb more than any foreplay you’ve had.

it only makes you hope this isn’t all he’ll be doing.

sliding his member slowly into your mouth inch by inch, you wonder when it’ll stop. it’s to much, in girth and length. he’s maybe half way in when you feel the salty tears form in your eyes as his tip hits your throat. the garbled gag provoked by him, makes heeseungs jaw go slack in awe.

once you’ve adjusted to the monster, that is his manhood, you find it difficult to suck. with so much he had going on, you didn’t know what to do with all of it. yet with how slow each movement is, he seems to bask in it. the feeling of your mouth being stretched, and the feeling of your teeth grazing his shaft, all of it you enjoyed. letting out small hums as you lick, and suck.

“mm, so good at sucking cock,” he moans.

his hips press forward, shocking you a bit, causing tears to roll down your face.

“shh, shh. let me” he says before your life practically flashes before your eyes.

he starts to thrust into your mouth. it being obvious you can’t handle someone of his size, he takes the lead. you sit there, looking absolutely fucked as he ruts into you, you look up at his form.

it makes you so wet, you wonder how long he’s wanted to do this. how long it would’ve been till you thought about him like this. panted breaths draw from him, as he fucks your throat. all he could think as he moved is how pretty you were, how perfect you were.

thinking about how wet you are just watching him, knowing you have to be because he saw the discomfort in your panties. just that made him write. all these months he’s wondered why hasn’t he done this sooner, and wondering if your going to let him fuck you ever after this. he doesn’t know if that’ll happen, so he treats this like the last, even though it won’t be.

his thrusts become quicker, and your throat starts to hurt. his knees feeling like they’re going to buckle, he bites back a loud moan and you bask in his weakness. hoping he’ll be this way buried in your cunt, wanting to watch him as he falls apart trying to keep his composure.

heeseung feels the rise, and force course in his dick, aching for release. pulling it out of your mouth, and stoking it aggressively above your face he asks:

“youll let me cum all over your face right? just me?”

you nod, opening your mouth and closing you eyes wating for it.

he grunts, and strokes faster, the mix of saliva and precum keeping it lubricated. breathy pants are elicited from his dry throat, and his tip rages with a blushed red color.

“shit—“

he cums all over your face, it’s hot, and all that lands in your mouth gets swallowed. his chest rises and falls, and he looks like he’s just about done, but not before he fists your hair pulling you up from your weak knees.

he faces you towards the mirror, making sure you see yourself. your face painted white, all sticky with his semen, it arouses you, it's unexpected. it hurts how much this turns you on.

heeseung grabs your chin and playfully shakes your head.

“see, look how pretty” he smirks.

you want to roll your eyes and protest but you can’t. the brain fog you have because of how much your sopping cunt hurts has hindered you.

he continues to tease “hm, so not in a million years huh?”

you can’t think of anything else, and at this point your dignity is gone, but the need you have for him is carnal.

you pull him in close, and press his chest against yours. “i need you”

and just like that, heeseung knows this won’t be the last time this will be happening.

a/n: make sure to stream XO!! 😘

[lipglossanon]

April Showers

Real Dad!Leon S. Kennedy x real daughter!reader

A Little More Savory tier commission from @ao3-rex1223

Word Count: 2365 (I went over! 🫣)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, DEAD DOVE, father/daughter incest, nicknames, dirty talk, kissing, shower sex, grinding, nipple play, breeding kink, lactation kink (mentioned), unprotected sex, creampie

Proofread ✍️

The weather app on your phone is nothing but a filthy liar. 

“Sunny with a partly cloudy afternoon, my ass,” you mutter out loud. 

“What was that, sweetheart?” Your dad glances over to you, the downpour soaking his hair until the fringe lay flat on his forehead. 

You keep your eyes firmly above his neck, a Herculean feat since you wouldn’t mind following the water as it drips down his shirt—nearly opaque now and showcasing his mouth-watering pecs. It’s been a stupid, invasive thought that you can’t shake since moving closer to home after graduating. Your dad’s been helping you out around the house, fixing things up, and during one of those times, you accidentally stumbled on him half naked in your bathroom. 

It really wouldn’t have been a big deal; he got covered in some kinda gunk from cleaning the gutters and decided to take a shower before heading back home. Not thinking about it twice, you opened the door to hand him a towel, only to be met with his flexing back muscles and tight ass. He’s been haunting your dreams, whether you wanted him to or not. 

Since then, you’ve been keeping a catalog on what makes him so hot; suffice it to say, the brain rot hasn’t abated in the slightest. 

“Oh, nothing,” you sigh. “How much longer til we make it back to the cabin?”

He glances down at his smart watch, the small face bright in the gloom. “GPS says about another quarter mile.”

Groaning, you tip your head back, raindrops smattering across your face and down your neck. “Who’s bright idea was it to hike today?”

Leon grins, "Believe it was you this time, squirt.”

Trudging forward, you shake your head, “Yuck, you know I hate that nickname.”

“Come on,” your dad needles you, laughing at your sour face. “It’s cute.”

“Uh huh,” you roll your eyes, then gesture to the trail in front of you. “Following your lead here, pops.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves his hand at you and steps out in front. “Make your old man slug it out first. I get it.”

Rolling your eyes again, you give his broad shoulders a light push, meaning it solely as a joke—something you’ve done a thousand times before—however, because of the sudden deluge of water, the trail is nothing but a slippery, muddy mess, and he loses his balance. 

He begins to fall backwards, and you try to catch him, but it’s a moot point; he just has too much weight on you. Both of you crash down onto the ground, Leon sprawled on top of you, leaving you both coated in mud. Wincing, you try to raise up at the same time Leon turns on his side, and you end up pinned underneath his body. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you valiantly stifle the whine in your throat. It’s unfair to have your hot dad pressing you into the ground, pelvis to pelvis, while mud and leaves are seeping into your clothes. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he laughs a little deprecatingly as he finally hoists himself up, stretching a hand out toward you. “Guess we’ll need to clean up in the outdoor shower.”

Heart tripping over itself, you nod, “Sure.”

Turning his back to you, he curses under his breath, “Good thing it’s insulated, huh.”

Head dizzy at the thought of seeing your dad strip down in front of you, you can only cough out a strangled yep. Shooting a look over his shoulder, you smile tightly. 

“Must be a frog in my throat,” you joke weakly. 

It’s enough to make him grin and chuckle. 

“Well, Kermit, let’s get outta here.”

“Does that make you Miss Piggy?”

“Har, har, aren’t you funny?”

“Learned from the best.”

A comfortable silence falls between you, only broken up by the sound of rain and your trampling footsteps. Making it back to the cabin, you follow behind your dad as he walks to the lean-to built onto the side of the building. A shower stall’s setup alongside the house, protected from the elements by the sheltered roof. Glancing at it, it doesn’t seem like a lot, but it's fairly spacious inside with a little shower bench. 

“C’mon,” Leon nods his head at the stall, kicking his boots off and starting to unbutton his jeans. “We’ll both hop in in our undies and get clean in one go. Save time, so we can get started on dinner and warm up.”

You feel faint, blood surging hotly through your veins. “Um, s-sure. Quick and easy, right?”

He chuckles, “That’s the spirit, squirt.”

Arousal dampening a smidge from the silly nickname, it revs back up when he turns his back to you and bends over to take off his jeans and socks. Biting your lip, you press the dough of your thighs together, eyes drinking in his toned form. Once he’s down to his briefs, he steps into the shower stall, holding the door open as he cuts on the water. 

“Hurry it up, sweetheart, haven’t got all day,” he sing songs. 

In no time at all, you stand next to your dad wearing only a sports bra and boy shorts, brain overrun with thoughts of his half naked body. You bite back a gasp when his hand comes up to press between your shoulder blades, ushering you into the shower. He steps in behind you and shuts the door. 

It’s wide but not very deep due to the bench. As you both try to rinse off, you’re rubbing up against your dad in an almost obscene way. You really aren’t doing it on purpose, but he finally grabs you by the hips and stills your movement with a cut off groan. 

“Dad?”

“Sorry,” he mumbles behind you, fingers gripping you tightly as he lets out a breath. “I didn’t—it’s been a while and just—that’s no excuse, ‘m sorry.”

Your heart beats a staccato in your throat, and you rock yourself back, ass brushing against his stiff cock. 

“Oh, dad,” you whimper, and he inhales a sharp breath. “That’s so hot.”

He doesn’t stop you from pressing your ass fully against his chubbed cock, grinding back against him with a moan. His grip shifts, and he guides your hips into a rhythm that makes your toes curl, knowing your dad is getting off to this just as much as you are. 

“Daddy,” you whine, reaching one hand over your head to drape over his shoulder. “Touch me, please.”

His hands move from your hips to drag along your sides until he’s groping your breasts through your flimsy bra.

“Take it off,” he tells you, voice thick with lust. “Show daddy these tits of yours, baby.”

Slick floods the gusset of your panties while you eagerly strip your bra off, dropping it to the shower floor with a splat. His hands immediately grope and squeeze your breasts, fingers tweaking and tugging your hard nipples.

“Daaaad,” you moan, hips rocking back against his while he plays with your tits.

“Hang on,” he mutters, one hand disappearing, and you hear him shift behind you. Glancing down, you see him kick his underwear off to the side, making you whimper.

“There we go,” he sighs, slipping his cock between your thighs. “Mmm, so soft. And..”

He trails off, and you feel him guide his cock up to rub against the outline of your cunt. “So wet, baby. S’this all for me? What a dirty girl.”

He coos the last sentence in your ear and you melt against him, keening low in your throat. “Daddy, please.”

He pulls back and turns you around to face him; your dilated eyes rake down his body, taking in his thick, dripping cock. Leon yanks your panties down, and you step out of them. 

“Pretty pussy,” he groans, fingers skating along your slit, smearing slick along your cunt and his fingers. 

“Dad,” you tilt your head. “Kiss me.”

“Baby,” he rumbles in your ear, and your hands grip onto his biceps, pulling him into a wet kiss. 

He slips his tongue past your parted lips, groaning as he licks into your mouth. You’re so turned on, it feels like your brain is melting from your ears. Leon ruts between your thighs, cock dragging precum all over your pussy lips, parting your slick folds to nudge against your clit. 

“Want it,” you pant, pulling away. “Want your cock.”

“Yeah?” He drops his hand down to grip the base of his dick, guiding the tip until he’s pressing against your hole. “Want daddy to stuff your pretty pussy?”

“Please, please, please,” you chant under your breath, eyes wide as they watch him tease the tip in and out of your fluttering cunt. “Dad, please, I wanna fuck you.”

“God,” he groans, sinking halfway into your snug pussy. “Take it then, sweetheart, since you want it so bad.”

“Yes, yes, oh, fuck,” you moan and whine, hands gripping his shoulders but making sure to keep your nails from scratching him up. No need to give your mom any suspicions. 

Once he’s buried completely in your wet heat, he grabs your thighs and picks you up. Without pulling out, he walks you both back so he can sit down on the bench. Your knees settle on the outside of his thighs, letting you sink down on his cock until the tip kisses your cervix. 

“So deep,” you slur, that pinch of pain making you clamp down on his dick. “Daddy, no one’s ever been this deep.”

“Fuck,” he hisses, hips snapping up, making you squeal as he knocks against the opening to your womb. “This sweet pussy’s never had a dick this big?”

Shaking your head rapidly, you sling water everywhere, “Nooo.”

“Goddamn,” he bites out, pulling you into a spit filled kiss. “Gonna dick down my little girl like she deserves.”

“Uh huh,” you mumble, kissing him between all your little moans and pants. “Give it to me, daddy.”

“Gonna let daddy breed your little pussy, sweetheart? Hmm?” He teases against your lips, warm palm cupping your lower belly. “Put a baby right here if you let me cum in this soft pussy, cream you nice and deep.”

Shuddering, more slick leaks from your cunt, coating his cock, while your nails claw at his back, totally forgetting about not leaving any marks, “Dad, y-you can’t—we shouldn’t, it’s bad.”

“So bad,” he simpers, kissing your neck. “But doesn’t it feel good? C’mon you know you want it. Let daddy stuff your sweet cunt, baby.”

Nodding, you kiss him, sloppily making out underneath the shower spray. His fat tip drags against your g-spot on every thrust, fucking you better than your last boyfriend by far. It really shouldn’t be this good between father and daughter, but now that you know how sweet this forbidden fruit truly is, you never want to stop. 

He pulls away to mouth kisses across your jaw and down your neck, nipping at your pulse point. Drooling, you pant and gasp, knees digging into the tiled bench of the shower as Leon pounds into your clenching heat. 

“Fuck, pussy’s so much better than your moms,” he grunts, fingers digging into your hips. “Like this tight hole’s made for my cock.” 

“Daddy,” you whine, and he groans, biting down on the swell of your breast. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He slows his pace, dragging his cock in and out of your cunt in deep strokes until you’re writhing against him. 

“Want it fast,” you pout. “Please?”

“Don’t like being teased?” He chuckles, pressing a kiss on each of your nipples. “Let daddy play with you a little, sweetheart.”

Clit aching, you rock yourself against him. “But dad—“

“Shhh,” he nips at your stiff nipples, and you whine. “Just let me enjoy it. God, you’re so sexy.”

Pussy fluttering around his cock, you whimper, and he groans in satisfaction. “You like that? Yeah, best little pussy daddy’s ever had.”

He fucks you slow and deep, cock pumping in and out of your pussy while his mouth and tongue tease your nipples. 

“Just think, if you let daddy knock you up, these gorgeous tits will be full of milk.” He bites your nipple roughly, a sharp pleasure that makes your pussy flutter. “Then daddy would have to help milk these fat tits every day.”

You hump down on his cock, thighs burning as you fuck yourself faster and harder against him. “Oh, god, dad, you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Fuck,” he groans, moving a hand between your bodies to strum across your senstive bundle of nerves. “Little clit’s so fat and slippery, baby.”

Keening, you thrash against him, arousal building higher and higher until it’s all white noise in your head. “‘M so close.”

“Cum for me, let daddy feel this little cunt squeeze his dick,” he coos. “Be a good girl and cream all over my cock.”

He pinches your clit a little harder, and it’s enough to snap that band wound tight in your lower belly. Your climax hits you hard, pussy squirting slick as your walls clench over and over while you shudder and writhe in his lap.

“Oh fuck,” he chuckles in disbelief. “Squirt’s more than just a nickname, huh?”

Thighs twitching, you slump against him, muscles too weak to keep you up. He wraps his thick arms around you and begins to pound up into your sopping wet pussy. 

“Gonna cum, oh fuck, gonna nut in your hot little pussy, oh, oh, yeah, take it, gonna knock my daughter’s fat pussy up, breed your sweet little cunt,” he babbles against your neck, cock throbbing in your fluttering walls. “Oh, fuuuck.”

He buries himself to the hilt, shooting rope after rope of hot, thick cum inside your puffy cunt, letting your snug pussy milk every drop. He doesn’t pull out when he leans back and takes your chin in hand. Leon tugs you into a soft kiss, the sweetest one that you’ve shared thus far. 

“Let’s go inside and continue this,” he nips your bottom lip. “We’ll worry about the consequences later. Daddy hasn’t had enough.”

He palms your belly, “Gotta make sure it sticks, too.”

A dull throb echoes through your cunt, “Okay, dad.”

[jennamoran]

The World Became as Glass

I don't know what the noise at the very beginning is. I don't even know if it was me and not the computer being weird. I kept having recordings start with clicks and then break into actual voice midword so this time, this take, I waited around and made random noises to get the microphone live before starting this time.

(original script that I was recording from follows)

Let’s tell stories.

Last night, I was doing pretty well, to be honest. I knew things could be bad, but I thought they could be good. Sometime after dinner, I made the mistake of checking the news. It wasn’t even settled then.

And it was like the world was made of glass.

Like the world was made of glass, and behind it was a wind of malignancy and rot, a thing like the sludge you find if you leave vegetables alone too long.

I don’t know if that’s how it was for you.

And like, if a story starts with the world becoming as glass, that has to be the answer, too. I think. The story begins with the state of things, and ends with how it wants you to feel.

You don’t have to think about last night if you don’t want to. You can think about some other time. Some other story. Do tell me that story, though.

For me, the world became as glass; and so it ends, because the world is glass.

But I like to believe in hope, right?

What’s hope in your story?

In mine, it’s ... fire. It’s a fire that can burn the gunk away. And its secret comes from the way the world becomes as glass.

And like my first thought as to that secret—what’s yours, by the way?

My first thought as to that secret is that, like, we’re looking for the last glassbreaker in the world. That you can break the glass and … the malignancy behind it somehow fades.

I’m too angry for that tonight, though.

It’s a beautiful little story, to imagine that if you break the glass, the horror goes away; and if you have anxiety, if you have fear, then that’s a story that should speak to you, you know? But this wasn’t anxiety or fear from daily life. This was anxiety or fear from a horror that only comes once or twice a decade.

I don’t want to exaggerate it. To be clear. I don’t want to tell you that we’re all doomed. We’re not. But it’s also genuinely bad.

So let’s find a different story. Do you need to?

Here’s another way to tell the story of the horror, and have the answer be as glass.

That somewhere in the world is the last fire of goodness. Break the glass and set it free.

My brain, because it’s my brain, immediately says: it’s a tourist attraction. People come and look at the fire. They ooh and ahh. Because you want something ridiculous in your story, right? Something ridiculous and true.

Something that hurts but makes you laugh.

I draw on pop culture for that a lot. I think about Coney Island. I don’t even really know what that is, the name just stuck in my brain for the kind of thing I want.

There’s the last flame of goodness in the world, and it’s a tourist attraction. People walk by, eating cotton candy. They laugh at clowns. Sometimes the cotton candy gets away, it drops to the floor, and they wistfully stare after it thinking about the fading of the goodness of the world.

I like a light touch. I like the kind of melancholy you can laugh at. It’s the same as the melancholy that makes you weep, but it doesn’t hurt until you’re ready to unbox it.

Maybe there’s some seagulls?

I don’t know. You have to come back to this part after you write the end.

The end, of course, is that the fire gets set free. Everyone tried to stop this. They warned and warned the protagonist. Which I guess metaphorically means, don’t hope, but also, like, people get upset if you try to break the glass in—-

Ooh, break the glass in case of fire. Break the glass if you need fire. Yeah.

The fire gets free.

And the malignancy, I think, is like oil, right? It’s like an oil slick, spreading on the sea that is our lives. That’s part of the real evil that’s been unleashed today, although only the smallest and most already-present part. But it’s there.

And so the fire catches on that, and it burns. It’s still burning now.

I’m still looking for your story, to be clear. I’m still looking for how you processed the night, or some other night. I’m still looking for how you take that and turn it around and find the answer.

I want to hear your little bits of melancholy humor. I want to see that in the replies.

But that’s the story, right?

The rest is a bunch of editing. I like to write really short stories and really long stories. So for me, it can be just a few paragraphs, you know?

Say it with me: once upon a time …

Once upon a time, for Jane, the world became as glass. And behind that glass, pressed up against it like a starving kid against the windows of the world, a sea of rot.

…

So I do think there’s rot in the world, but I also think you have to be really careful with it in fiction. Everybody puts themselves on the side of the angels, you know? The more words for evil we have, the more people turn it into weapons for themselves. Usually against the best and most vulnerable of us.

So let’s try this again.

Once upon a time, Jane saw the world become as glass, and behind it was ...

Hm, step back a bit. Once upon a time, goodness rained down upon the world like candy. It fell in drifts and piles, like the snow, and it was sweet.

But we did not pick it up.

It was on the other side of the glass from us, a glass we let be hidden from us, and so it moldered on the hills and dales of the world, feast-grounds for the harvest-men alone.

They kept it for themselves, but they could not process it, and it began to rot.

One day, for Jane, the world became as glass; she saw through that veil of the world, but there was not goodness there but rather rot, a sea of rot, pressed up aginst the glass that was the world like a hungry child at the window. A sea of rot that had been goodness but was still desperate to get in.

“Wow,” she said. “That’s not up to code!”

I figure, the way it happened, after all, was that some regulations or other got slashed. You know. The ones that say you have to share the goodness. The ones that say you have to have drainage set up for a sea of goodness turned to rot. You’re not supposed to just pile glass haphazardly this way and that and leave candy out to rot behind.

I’m pretty sure.

I haven’t actually read most of the rules that have been cut.

There was still one bit of goodness, though, that didn’t end. One bit of goodness that burned on and on. A kind of love, a kind of hope, that was not candy but rather fire.

It burned, behind the veil of the world, and people came to look at it. They pointed at it and laughed, or showed their kids.

“This is what we could have been.”

They built a great park around it, and candy—processed, preserved, and resold by the harvest-men—well, they carried it around, and chatted, and did not think for a time about the great sea of rot behind the glass.

They warmed themselves by the light of the fire, and told themselves, this is something small.

This is something trivial and laughable and covered in the lime of passing birds.

(Birds don’t like the fire of goodness. Only a fire of world-ending wickedness burns within their hearts. But love them for it, do love them for it, for it’s still a flame.)

Jane let the long years pass before she went to see it. It was just a carnival attraction after all. And living in a world of glass and rot is tiring. She kept cutting herself on the edges of the glass wheresoever she would walk.

And when she saw it, she stopped, and stared; and her heart was in her throat, and she said, “Oh.”

Oh, she said, and knew that we were beautiful.

The sign beneath it read, “In case of fire, DO NOT BREAK GLASS.”

This is incidentally reasonable, because if there is a fire, you don’t want broken glass there too. Remember only to break the special glass that is there to break in fires rather than like any glass you want.

But Jane didn’t remember that.

She saw the sign, and scoffed, because everyone knows that’s not what it’s meant to say.

So she reached out, and took the hammer. (There was a hammer, even though nobody was supposed to break the glass. IT’s like I said, a bunch of regulations had been slashed.)

“No,” yelled the guy who owned the park. “No! My passive income!”

“No!” yelled the children passing by. “It says DO NOT BREAK GLASS!”

The birds screeched, too, but in their hearts I think that they were glad.

And she took the hammer, and struggled through the field of arms that tried to hold her back—

There was a field of arms. It was one of the other attractions. Some kind of lingering bodily autonomy sort of thing, I guess?

And struck; and raged the fire free.

And in that moment she understood that she had always seen herself on the wrong side of the glass. In that moment she understood that the fields of rot were not sealed away, but rather ever-present, a reflection, and it walked beside her.

She grasped this in that moment, as the fields of rot took flame.

She grasped this, as that pyre of goodness rose to seize the world; and was exalted in the flame;

And if it has stopped, that fire burns right to this day.

... I could do better, do more editing, smooth it into shape; but not today.

[blacktycoon]

"Hey, Kril, buddy! I finally caught up with you- remember me, it's your old pal Firth! Yeah, that boot had nothin' on me, haha"

"..."

"Boy, you were not easy to find, lemme tell ya- listen, things are bad back in New Carcinia. Ever since we dumped Trash Island all over it, crabs have been getting gunked left and right- we knew you were the one to find to do something about it, but since you wandered off, me and the others have had to pick up your slack- no need to thank me; I've turned over a new leaf!"

"..."

"Anyway, now that I finally found you, we can finally make things go back to normal! I'm sure with my brains and your brawn, this whole trash problem will be just a distant memory in no time."

"......."

"H-hey, wait, what are you doing? C'mon, Kril, it's me, Firth, your buddy! Y-you remember me, don'tcha?"

[farfromstrange]

Unicorns Need Love Too | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Your hormones make existing a living hell sometimes. Thankfully, Matt is there to help

Warnings: Fluff, self-indulgent, suggestive language, heavy allusions to smut (MINORS DNI), attempt at humor, not proof-read

Word Count: 2k

A/n: This is a brain fart because I, myself, have a pimple in the middle of my forehead and I feel like a fucking unicorn. I don't even know if it's any good. Just have at it & enjoy!

The few weeks leading up to your period are always the most chaotic and the most draining, but over the years, you have gotten used to only having a few days out of four weeks every month where you feel somewhat normal.

The days between ovulation and the actual start of a new period are probably the worst though—together with the week of hell that follows, of course.

Matt loves it when you ovulate. Your boyfriend’s heightened senses make it possible for him to smell the change in your pheromones, and they drive him borderline insane. It doesn’t help that you always seem to need him more than air when you’re in that fertile window of your cycle, and even though you’re not interested in having a family, he always has to fill you to the brim until you’re overflowing with his cum. Alone the thought of that makes his cock painfully hard.

Unfortunately, though, your body’s desperate need for pleasure isn’t the only side of you that comes out during that week. Every month, Matt discovers something new about you. Every month, he finds something new to love, and he finds strange quirks of yours that may seem odd to him at first, but he still adores them as much as he adores the rest of you.

 “Why does it smell like a chemical plant here?” He pokes his head into the bathroom, his chiseled body dressed in the red leather of his Daredevil suit, minus the cowl and his gloves. 

You turn to him from the sink. Your eyes roam over his body before they land on his face, meeting his unfocused gaze. “It’s my skincare,” you answer.

What did he think you were doing? Building a chemical weapon? Cooking meth? He would have been able to smell that much more clearly than your skincare products.

“What are you using?” Matt asks, leaning against the doorframe in all his glory as he slides those beautifully thick fingers of his into his leather gloves.

Your eyebrow quips. “Salicylic acid. Why?”

The way he looks at you, forehead slightly wrinkled as he frowns, reminds you of a concerned parent when their child has found a sharp object to play with. 

“That smells dangerous.”

You shrug, continuing to rub the solution into your skin. “It pulls the gunk out of my pores.”

“And that works?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” he says. His expression remains wary. “Just don’t inhale it.” 

“Matt, this isn’t the first time I’ve used it. I’ve had acne since I was a teenager,” you remind him.

A small smile plays on his lips, mirroring yours. “I know. Just want you to be careful, that's all.”

You put the tube down, turning your whole body to him. “I have never heard of death by skincare,” you say, “but I’ll be careful. Promise.”

The answer, albeit a bit sarcastic, satisfies him. Matt fastens his gloves with a happy little nod. “Thank you. I’ll, uh, be back in a few hours,” he says, coming over to press a kiss to the top of your head, his hand cradling the back of it. “Don’t wait up. You’re drained.”

You open your mouth to protest, “I can wait for you.”

“Not at this point of your cycle. You’re going to be cranky tomorrow.”

You’re aware that Matt knows your body inside and out. He knows you better than you could ever know yourself. He can sense things that even you can’t pick up on. At first, it was something you had to get used to, but you have grown accustomed to his heightened senses and the perks they bring with them. 

Tipping your chin in his direction, you retort, “I’m not sure if I should take offense to that.”

“Don’t,” Matt says nonchalantly. “If I had an organ lose its shit every month because it wants to be fertilized, putting you through the works to prepare you for it, and then cause me to bleed and cramp uncontrollably for a week straight as revenge when I refuse to let a myriad of sperm play tag you’re it inside me, I’d get cranky too.”

That description sounds almost too perfect. You lean forward to capture his plump lips in another passionate kiss. “Fair point. Be safe, please.”

“Always.”

“That’s a lie,” you say. 

“I promise, I’ll be safe.”

“That’s better.”

He strokes his thumb over your cheekbone. “Love you,” he says, and he kisses you one last time.

Whenever he goes out at night, Matt kisses you as if you are never going to see him again. It’s a possibility you have often cried over. You’ve obsessed over everything that could go wrong. 

He has had way too many close calls for you to take anything he does for granted, and when he kisses you like that, like he is afraid of losing you as well, you at least know that he will try his everything to make it back to you in one piece—even if it’s a mangled piece. 

“I love you too,” you murmur. 

That’s another thing about his kisses: they have the ability to render you speechless.

A slight gust of wind brushes through your hair when the door to the rooftop exit opens, and when you open your eyes, Matt is gone. The living room is lulled in darkness. 10:13 pm. You start counting down the hours, praying once again to all Gods above that he will be okay tonight.

• • •

When Matt comes home a few hours later, he finds you passed out on your shared bed, your limbs tangled in the silk sheets that smell of him and you, and even more you.

He isn’t injured, more ramped up with adrenaline than anything, but he doesn’t want to disturb your peaceful slumber, so he settles down on the couch instead. It doesn’t take long for the night to crash into him, and he collapses. He doesn’t even have it in him to make it back to bed.

You wake up in a cold sweat when your alarm goes off the next morning, but the open bedroom door and Matt’s snoring figure on the couch tell you that he is alive and well. That’s a good sign. If he’s asleep and not injured, you have nothing to worry about. 

That is what you think until you see your reflection in the bathroom mirror. 

Matt wakes to the sound of a loud groan. Suddenly awake and alert, he takes a look around the apartment. Nothing is out of place, except—you’re missing. 

He gets up and knocks on the bathroom door. It’s locked. “Sweetheart,” he calls out softly. “You okay in there? Can you open the door?”

“No,” you reply. Your voice is slightly muffled through the wood, but he can still hear your labored breathing and your elevated heartbeat loud and clear.

“Why not?” he asks.

“Because I look hideous.”

His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “I don’t know if you‘ve heard, but I’m blind.”

You groan again, more defeated this time. You seem to plop down on the edge of the bathtub. “Oh, shut up!” you snap. “This is as much a visual as it is a textural issue.”

“As in what? You’ve grown fur and a tail overnight?” Matt can’t help but muse a little. “Because even if you turned into a wolf or a worm, I would still love you. You know that.”

“Matt, this isn’t funny. My acne is escalating.”

Now you sound sad, and he starts feeling bad. 

He touches his palm against the door. “But you used those acids last night,” his words land much softer. “I thought they were supposed to help with your acne.”

“Apparently fucking not ‘cause my fertile window is pretty much still wide open, and I think I felt myself ovulate this morning.”

“Oh. Well, it’s just some pimples, sweetheart. It’s not the end of the world.”

Matt realizes too late that he may have chosen his words poorly. You take a deep breath, and for a moment he believes you’re just going to say, but then you shout at him, “EASY OF YOU TO SAY, MISTER I-ALWAYS-HAVE-FLAWLESS-SKIN!”

He winces, dropping his forehead next to his palm. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. What can I do?” he asks. “Get you a paper bag?”

You must have smoke coming out of your ears by now. “Matthew Michael Murdock, I swear to God–”

“I’m so sorry, sweetie. I’m just trying to cheer you up.” He knocks again. “Can you please let me in? I want to hug you. You sound sad.”

A pregnant pause follows. The silence settles deep into his bones. He can still hear your heartbeat, but he can’t judge what you’re thinking. Then, he hears your bare feet pat against the floor. The lock clicks, and you finally open the door. 

“I look like the last fucking unicorn, Matt,” you say. “I’m an endangered species.”

Matt’s arms find your waist, and he pulls you against him. You don’t protest. “You don’t feel like a unicorn. You don’t even have the body of a horse.”

The beginning of a smile that was growing on your face vanishes within seconds, and you stare up at him. He can feel your gaze burning through his skull, a look of utter astonishment on your face. That is how he imagines you, anyway. 

“Just a pimple on your forehead,” he adds because he realizes his words are failing to get his point across in all possible ways.

You bury your face in his chest. “Oh, fuck off!”

“What? Pimples are natural and nothing to be ashamed of, especially not when your body is full of hormones that are making your day a living hell.”

“I feel ashamed because I look like a very fucking ugly unicorn!”

“You’re not ugly,” he insists, patiently so, knowing that this is just another side of you that comes out when you’re overwhelmed by the sheer force of your hormonal cycle. “If anything,” Matt says, “you’re a cute unicorn.”

“No,” you shake your head. “I’m a pissed-off unicorn who’s ovulating, which makes her sad and horny with a fucking stuffed and inflamed pore on her freaking forehead!”

“I can do something about the horniness, but I can’t make the pimple go away. I’m sorry.”

“UGH!” For a moment, he thinks you’re going to hit his chest with your balled fist, but instead, you tangle your fingers in his shirt.

He rubs his large hand along your spine. “Come here.” Almost naturally, his nose buries itself in your hair. “Do you have those patch thingies you always use when you break out?” he asks. 

“I ran out,” you say. 

“Should I get them for you on my way home from work?”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course,” he says.

Your smile is unmistakable. “I want the heart-shaped ones.”

“Because they make you feel cute?”

“Yeah.”

Matt chuckles anew. “Okay. I’ll get you those.”

“Thank you.” Sniff.

He tilts his head to the side. “Did you just sniff me?” he asks. 

“Mhm,” you shamelessly admit as you suck in a breath again, inhaling his distinctive scent. “You smell good.”

“I didn’t even shower last night. I passed out on the couch.”

“Oh God, that makes it worse!” You shove him away. “I’m getting turned on by the smell of your sweat.”

His giggles turn into laughter. “How about I shower first and then you can sniff me again?” Matt opens his arms as if he just made an offer you couldn’t possibly refuse. 

But you can. Because Matt showering and washing the scent of danger off his beautiful skin is the last thing you want, and if your body is satisfied, maybe the storm in your mind will finally calm down, too. 

You stop him. “No. Don’t shower.”

“No?” He raises an eyebrow.

“No,” you say. “You said you can help me with my horniness, right? That was part of the deal?”

The brown of his irises gets overtaken by the black of his pupils. “I did say that, didn’t I?” 

“Uh-huh. So, no shower. And I could really use a hand. Or two. And quite possibly your cock, too.”

Matt smirks. “Anything you want, sweetheart,” he purrs. “I’m all yours.”

You’re about to kiss him when you realize, “The unicorn pimple–”

“Don’t care. I've heard somewhere that unicorns need love too.” He cradles your face in his hands. “And I intend to do that shamelessly for the next hour and a half.”

The bathroom door falls closed behind the two of you as he uses his strength to guide you back inside, and a kiss is all it takes for you to shut up and surrender yourself to him completely.

Unicorn pimple be damned!

Tag List: @littlenerdyravenclaw @yarrystyleeza @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @thatonegamefish @norestfortheshelbywicked @mattkinsella @itwasthereaminuteago @linamarr @gpenguin666 @acharliecoxedfan

[beatcroc]

hi. vore on main. no that's it that's the post this is straight up genuinely and unironically voreposting on main. mostly just a lot of cutsey dumb goofy shit, but monsterfucker brain did get ahold of me for a bit there so there's also a handful that are uhhhh Spicy. nothing explicit, but like, It's Vore Dude, so if you look under the cut that is YOUR problem ok? ok.

ok listen before i move on i have to put it out there look i KNOW i drew the funny rat skeleton comic with this guy but that was ONLY because it was funny. thats not my real belief, he doesn't have any organs at all he is just a sack of gunk. he is harmless. it's basically just the same inside as on the outside but slightly more damp since it's not exposed to air to give him that drier 'skin' layer.

also i already typed this out in my friendserver so im pasting it here now too. my stance on fp re: horniness is i really can't see him as a 'sexual' being, per se, especially with how non-biological he is, but also he really really really likes physical intimacy so if you are giving him permission to be weird and touchy on you in any context, let alone one both parties would enjoy, i mean. he's not gonna say no. this Could be about sex or w/e if someone wanted to fuck him but more relevantly here yeah it's about vore. i think that's categorically about the Most you can be touchy/in contact on a guy so yeah thats always what he's going to go for. tangentially he just thinks it's fun to make peppino* flustered so since pep does not particularly Enjoy being vored, fp has other options to Get Up In There for something else pep might enjoy *spoken generally for whatever theoretical partner, just peppino is the one that's readily available here and fun to use

also while im here id like to say. no peppino is not a monsterfucker are you kidding me. he is not going to ever go out of his way for weirdness. weirdness really has a way of finding him though, and he's shockingly tolerant of it as long as he doesn't clock it as a threat. anyway what im saying is if you got a big clingy beast around and al up in your business all the time shits just gonna kinda Happen sometimes. he's certainly not going to Encourage it but if hes already in that situation, might as well at that point.

[mamirhodessxox]

Serving for our CUNTry

Damnation!Leon Kennedy x Model!Reader

Desc- Your a well know Runway model for VS & other companies dating Leon who is infact a Government agent. Unfortunately for you Leon’s team was low on backup since last mission going to complete shit which is how you ended up being recruited for the 1 time & it is a HOT mess.

Content- Mentions of ‘Bimbo’, Hints of sex, Violence, Semi gore details, funny ff this time, Reader serving for our CUNTry, bimbo!reader

{~I'm very serious with you guys interacting with my writing!!!! it would make me so happy & excited, the more comments & reposts the more inspiration i have to write :) Votes and comments are strongly appreciated so please COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT COMMEENNTTT the more comments the more content <3!!!~}

“Baby we need to recruit you for backup.” Is the words you absolutely did NOT want to hear ever in your life when dating Leon.

“So your telling me you expect me to go out on a mission with you in the middle of fucking China and use missiles & guns that I have never ever touched given the fact that all I know what to do is walk down a fucking runway and look pretty?” You spoke as Leon hesitantly nodded “Yes.”

Absolutely fucking not. no. no. no. NO! “Leon I’m literally a victoria secret model & you trust me with a fucking MISSILE?” And then he sat tapping his shoe before shrugging. “Maybe?” NO! BAD LEON! BAD! “Y’know what if I’m gonna be serving for this country involuntarily i might as-well do it how I want to do it understood?”

Leon regretted this decision immediately. He trained you for MONTHS. You were right, you were definitely better at walking down the runway in 6 inch heels than shooting a gun but who cares right? Everybody apparently. When you guys were deployed onto the mission Chris judged you HEAVILY for literally wearing Bright pink high heel pumps, the smallest skirt & crop top that had the words “Serving for my CUNTry.” With your hair in literal pigtails. If you weren’t the queen of bimbos right now then he didn’t know who was.

You all split up into duos in some random rank facility & you obviously went with Leon. Everything was going smooth at first. Until you were being chased by some random fucking creature “GOD DAMNIT Y/N SHOOT THE FUCKING THING!” “I’M A MODEL NOT A FUCKING GUN LORD LEON!” As it kept getting closer you heard a loud gunshot & nearly choked on your bubble gum.

“Oh my god you shot it!” You gasped and poked your heel at the fucked up creatures gooey head & gagged “I thought I trained you how to use a gun sweetheart.” You furrowed your brows & scoffed while your hands were on your hips “Yeah & then I realized I shouldn’t even be 0.1 millimeters away from one.” Leon pinched the bridge of his nose before running his hands down your arms “Sweetheart now is not the time to walk the runway and look pretty. You need to use the fucking gun.” You rolled your eyes “This is NOT it Leon I hope you know this.” Somehow Leon found this strangely attractive. Whether it was the current skimpy outfit you were wearing or just your attitude in general but he knew when you both got home you were in for a surprise for sure.

Hours later you were literally STRUTTING and I mean fucking STRUTTING SERVING CUNT SERVING THE RUNWAY VOGUING CUNTY into some random room after seeing Jill being nearly attacked by a bunch of the infected. You completely forgot what to do but you realize you had very sharp heels & also a gun so you put it to your own creative cunty use. In one hand you were shooting off a few of the infected and in the other you were holding your pump slamming the heel into the head of some of the zombie like people. Jill sat in a corner breathing heavily just watching in pure amazement before you flung the gunk of brains off your heel before slipping it back on.

You squealed and jumped up and down clapping “Oh my god I ate that!! Did’ya see that Jill! I TOTALLLYYY served cunt!!” Jill lightly smiled not even knowing what that meant “You sure did..” when you guys caught up with the rest of the group Jill took Leon aside “She killed half of them with her fucking pumps Leon.” He furrowed his brows “I’m sorry?? She saved you with a literal SHOE?” She nodded her head & looked over at you while you were explaining what ‘Serving Cunt’ even meant to Chris.

The team genuinely thought you were some bimbo but you somehow saved all of their asses. Even after the mission you were given some sort of Medal & grimaced at it “What the hell is that?” Leon chuckled rubbing your shoulders as you genuinely hated the fact that they gave you a medal that wasn’t even pink & cute.

One night you were appearing in yet another fashion show. The group had came for support & Leon watched as you strut down the stage & posed. Claire was in utter awe of you & Chris like a supportive father.

You were definitely made for the runway. Which would somehow be perfect for Leons next mission..

xtripleiiix’s Masterlist

A/N- OKAY I LOVE model!reader & leon!!! READER SERVED SOOO MUCH CUNT & I WANNA WRITE MORE AB HER & LEON HOW DO WE FEEL ABOUT THIS?

🏷️ list: @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert @alicerosejensen @bunnybot55 @valkyrurx @agent-dessis-posts

[sapphiresterreart]

Inspired by this post: where Shadow finds Super Sonic and ONLY Super Sonic attractive. Sonic's normal self is not wanted.

It made me cackle because I couldn't help but picture Shadow deciding to explore this gay awakening in the most convoluted way possible. Cue me getting carried away with the idea and scribbling a rough scene.

Stuffed under the Read More.

At one point after seeing Sonic's glow-up into Super a few times, Shadow's brain latches onto an idea and goes insane until he scratches the metaphorical itch.

He zooms around the entire planet to collect the 7 Chaos Emeralds AND the maximum amount of rings a single person can hold.

Randomly shows up at Tails’ workshop/house one day, looking particularly deranged to the poor fox because the guy's spent the past month running himself ragged and is now gunning for his older brother for some unfathomable reason. Eggman couldn’t possibly have recovered from the last beat down in such short time! Something’s clearly wrong.

Shadow’s carefully manicured quills are in utter disarray. Gunk and grease coat his muzzle. Gloves notably tattered and inhibitor rings tarnished. There’s a suspicious smearing of red all over his typically immaculate chest fluff. Worst of it all are his eyes: near feral in their intensity as they pin the fox in his computer chair from afar.

The surly hedgehog snarls. “Where’s Sonic?”

All the while, Shadow has to keep ahold of the seven emeralds that prolly act like magnets and want to repel away from each other. His sanity’s hanging on a thread. 

Luckily Sonic shows up soon (instead of late? First time for everything! What a relief) after a brief, albeit frantic call from his lil bro.

Sonic does not expect Shadow to look like such a wreck. He does not expect his usually composed rival to yank an absurd amount of rings from the pocket dimension everyone had in their feathers, fur, or otherwise back part of their body. He does not expect those same rings to be shoved into his hands and quills, forcibly stuffing them into his own ‘inventory’ of a pocket dimension. 

He does not expect the rings to keep coming until he can’t hold anymore.

He does not expect the Seven Chaos Emeralds to immediately follow after.

“Shad–” Sonic tries, absolutely baffled.

“Transform.” Shadow gives him nothing except a haggard sort of desperation. “Now.”

And. Well. When asked like that? Damn. He won’t say no but that’s some voice his rival has on him. Hmm. Still. He doesn’t go super just yet because there’s only so long a transformation can last and he’d like some of the facts first. Especially if the situation’s as dire as Shadow’s making it out to be.

“What’s up?” He tosses out a tense smirk and a quip to lighten the mood. “Got yourself in trouble with the law again, Shads? Need me to use your own money to bail–“

“Transform.” Shadow staggers and oh no he’s gonna pass out isn’t he? He straightens before he can truly fall. 

Sonic lets the smirk fall. This is too unusual. “Not until you tell me what’s going on! What the heck Shadow?”

The glare intensifies. He looks weirdly… hungry? Oh. He hopes that's not some alien DNA comin’ out to play. Sonic’s not in the mood to be eaten. At least… not in the way his shoot-first-questions-later friend would likely consider.

“…Transform first and then I’ll tell you.” 

What an oh-so generous counter-offer. Sonic’s tempted to refuse on principle but the guy looks ready to collapse and there’s only so long Sonic himself can hold all seven emeralds at once before they launch outta his grip. 

He sighs. “Yeah, alright.”

Sonic closes his eyes. Concentrates. Feels the power humming in the gems, lets them push away from him with him as their center of gravity to orbit. Momentum builds as they whirl around him. His focus deepens. A zen sort of calm settles over him like a familiar cloak as he pulls the gems back into his core sense of being. A spark ignites and he’s set aflame.

His feet leave the floor as the power repels him against the planet. Feels the gems thrumming alongside his veins as he opens his eyes. The world glitters a beautiful gold but he doesn’t have time to smell the roses. Rings are burning like a candlestick’s wick, after all.

“Start talking.”

Shadow does not start talking. Instead he stares. Only stares. It’s… kind of concerning, actually. 

“Shadow?” Super Sonic frowns, spending more energy concentrating on maintaining the sheer power humming in his soul than on coming up with a funny joke. “Are you alright?”

Shadow doesn’t make a sound. Is he even breathing? Super Sonic’s brow furrows and gently glides from near the ceiling to hover in front of his rival. Red eyes track the movement like a predator intent on its prey but Super’s not worried about that. Not right now, at least.

Keeping his expression soft, yet unwittingly focused, Super examines his rival’s disheveled state. For the Ultimate Lifeform, he looks ultimately wrecked. He smirks, just a lil, and Shadow hones in on it like a laser beam. Super blinks, smirk twisting into a puzzled smile as he tilts his head, before slowly grasping Shadow by the shoulder. 

“C’mon focus, Shadow. You with me?” Wide, red eyes blink dumbly and Super huffs a laugh. “How can I help?”

Shadow. Doesn’t respond. Merely gapes at him like he’s drinking in the sight. It’d be flattering at any other time but right now it’s just frustrating.

“I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s goin’ on. On a time limit here–“

“You have full inventory.” 

Finally! He speaks! But lacks sense. “What?”

“Rings.” Shadows answers though that doesn’t answer much. Choosing instead to fall silent once more and continue staring.

Super doesn’t know what to do with any of this so he turns to someone who might. “Tails? Any clues?”

“N-no…” His lil bro trots over to them, visibly disturbed. Good. Glad he’s not the only one confused here.

“I’m burnin’ rings.” Super settles for instead. “Thought you said it was urgent?”

“I thought it was.” Tails gestures at the catatonic state of their friend. “I mean look at him! What was I supposed to say?”

“Well.” Super starts strong only to trail off.

He pivots in the air, still hovering in front them both. Cups his chin with a thoughtful frown. Absently skims the cluttered workshop as he slowly spins in place before re-centering with a shrug. It’s surprisingly hard to keep focus and maintain the super form when there’s no imminent threat. Without anything to go on, he's just wasting power. So. His gaze returns to his battered rival.

“If nothing else I could try this?”

He drifts closer to the still stunned speechless ‘hog. Frowns slightly at the white part of Shadow’s eyes. They’d reddened significantly. Had he blinked once in the past minute or two? Nothing worth worrying over, he supposed. Not if this worked.

Super reaches a hand, still glowing a vibrant gold and soft flames of light emanating off him, and gently braces a palm against the side of Shadow’s face. Shadow doesn’t even move as Super closes his eyes.

Tails shifts beside them. “Try what?”

Super hums. “We’ll see if it works first, buddy.”

The sound vibrates in his chest and makes its way down the arm connecting him to his rival. The rings are burning slower than usual but once he starts this, they start burning like they would in battle. 

Super focuses the gem’s energy from their raw state of chaotic power into something he can channel into another person. He smoothes corrosive edges, softens acidic potency, gentles the sheer intensity of it all and funnels them through his own energy. Pours bits of his own chaos mixed with the gem’s through that funnel in his palm. Pushes it from there into Shadow’s own energy.

Shadow doesn’t do anything more than gasp sharply and let him do his thing. Super mentally shrugs, privately delighted by the fact Shadow was letting him touch him at all especially his face, and continues his foray into healing via chaos energy. 

The rings are gone even faster than in battle and soon after the last wound has closed and Super’s pulled away, the power keeping him aloft drains completely. The golden glow fades from his quills and they drop back into blue as he returns to the ground, his normal self once again. His grasp on the chaos emeralds slacken and the tension that had been building between the seven finally releases. The gems launch themselves harmlessly out of him like a slingshot and scatter once more.

He bounces a step from the residue energy crackling inside him and beams at his rival. “So now that that’s over with, mind telling us why you came all this way looking like you crawled outta a dumpster caught on fire?”

That of all things has Shadow snapping back to himself. Any awe lingering in his rival’s face vanishes. Fully returns to his normally composed self as he straightens and crosses his arms with a muted huff.

“Merely an experiment. Good day.” Whirls on a heel with shoes revving, dips his head in what might’ve been a polite farewell at his lil bro. “Prower.”

And leaves. He leaves. The cryptic jerk leaves.

Sonic gawks. “Whuh–? What was that?” He spins to face his brother. “Did you see that? Did you see?”

“I saw.”

“Didn’t even say goodbye to me! Me! He was the one who asked me to come all this way! I was next in line for brainiac dogs over in Spagonia, you know. Not as good as chili dogs but it was buy one get one free day! What the heck?”

His younger brother can only shrug helplessly with a puzzled smile, twin tails swishing behind him. “Don’t know, big bro. He did say it was an experiment.”

“Experiment in driving me insane, maybe! Now I’m gonna go crazy trying to figure him out.”

“You mean you weren’t already?”

“Tails!” He grins and hooks an arm around his annoyingly adorable baby bro. “I’ll show you who’s crazy!”

His bro only laughs and swats at the fist digging into his hair. Futilely fighting against the inevitable noogie but he's got him secured by the shoulders. “Have mercy! I’m not the one who spent the past month looking for seven whole emeralds and an entire inventory’s worth of rings.”

“I’ll give ya that!” Sonic cackles and lets him free. “What was up with that anyway?”

Elsewhere, unbeknownst to the brothers, one Shadow the Hedgehog was having a crisis of epic proportions. He had discovered a new, albeit incredibly difficult goal in life: to have Sonic turn Super more often than not because wow did he look alluring with a face of focused intensity framed by golden hues.

[dearestkong]

super shy // get up challenge d2🐇

🎧currently streaming:

🎶i wanna tell you but i’m super shy, super shy: speak up in class and talk to someone new

I DID THIS!!!! ate lunch with someone i barely know and it was really lovely. put up my hand a LOT in class and asked questions instead of stewing in silence like usual

🎵you’re the top, babe: 4h fully focused studying

only 3h after school but technically I also had 90 minutes of study period in school ….

🐰I WASN'T super shy today!!! and yeah it was embarrassing sometimes but who gaf. I think the spirit of today was met.

🐇sleep: 7.5h // screen time: 3.5h

super shy❌❌ super tired✅✅✅ this challenge was all about having the it girl idol vibe but I just felt like such a fraud today. brain worked slowly, tasks + recovery took longer and I barely scraped the gunk off my towering to-do list.  yesterday a girl complimented me on my work ethic and asked how I always stayed disciplined and I just wanted to burst out laughing. i guess one of the most idol-esque things is putting on a brave face and working your hardest even through fatigue. so I think I'm still hitting the spirit of the challenge.

[fandoms-writings]

Could I request the fluff prompt, "Is that my shirt?" with biker!Bucky? 💗

I hope you enjoy it aud 🥺<3

Pairing: biker!bucky x reader

Word Count: 563

Warnings: none really, fluff, reader is sick (like the flu or a cold)

Come celebrate with me!

When Bucky knocked on your door, he expected you to tell him to fuck off. To leave you alone. He'd been prepared to try and convince you to just let him say what he wanted to say, to pour his heart out to you - maybe you'll listen this time, give him a second chance.

But when that door opened and you peaked through, the words died on his tongue.

You looked like death. 

You looked so tired, your hair a wreck, pajama bottoms hanging from your hips and, wait - 

"Is that my shirt?" He asked, pointing to it, the logo of the club staring back at him. 

You rolled your eyes, leaning against the door frame with a heavy sigh, "What do you want?" Your voice was nasally and you sounded congested and he dropped his hand. 

"Are you sick?" He asked. 

"That obvious, huh?" You countered, the attitude from just a moment ago slipping away. 

"Do you have someone to take care of you?" 

You crossed your arms over your chest, "I don't need anyone to take care of me." 

He put his hands on his hips, "That wasn't what I asked, was it?" 

"I'm fine, Buck, I don't need someone to take care of me." 

He refused to move from his spot on your porch, waiting for you to give in and let him help. You knew him well enough to know that he'd wait out there all night if he had to - he'd done it before. 

You sighed, dropping your arms and letting them swing at your sides as you turned to walk back in the house. 

"Come on then!" You called from down the hall and he scurried to follow you, shutting and locking the door behind him. 

He spent the afternoon making you soup and making sure you were staying hydrated while you watched movies on the couch. He called Steve and told him that anything dealing with the club was on him unless it was an emergency. He wasn't to be disturbed or contacted unless absolutely necessary. 

He bundled you up in your softest blanket on the couch after you ate, bringing you ginger tea with lemon and honey in it - something his mother taught him when he used to take care of Steve. 

When you were finally relaxed and settled with your head in his lap, he finally asked again, "Are you wearing my shirt?" It was whispered as to not bother you if you'd dozed off, but your soft voice filled the air as you replied.

"Yeah, you, um," You cleared the gunk from your throat, "You left it here the other day and I just kinda threw it on this morning while I was half awake and sneezing my brains out." You moved to sit up, "I can go change though, and you can have it back." 

His hold tightened on you, keeping you from sitting up, "No, you keep it." He looked down at you, your head turned so you could see his face, "It looks better on you anyway." 

You smirked, "You know this doesn't mean you're off the hook right?" 

He huffed out a laugh and nodded, "Yeah I know, but that can wait till you feel better, yeah?" 

"Yeah," you turned your face back to the tv, "It can wait." 

Maybe that second chance was more possible than he thought.

[thepolysworldau]

WHOA WHERE'D DA GANG GO-? O_O

Yalls!!! Are yall actually in Tord's head??? :0

BAM

Jesus, if I knew that these people could actually do magic shit I wouldn't have started this thing. Where are we anyway?

Hentai, guns, anime wifus?

Yeah, that sounds like Tord's brain!

Figures. I am surprised it isn't just full of gunk.

I was expecting something like Inside Out honestly.

So we are just in Tord's brain? Forever? I don't think I want that.

I am sure it will stop soon. But since we are here, maybe we can help Tord out?

Speaking of, where is she? If we are in Tord's brain shouldn't there be a...Tord?

Fuck if I know, maybe it is just a bunch of doors and shit that mean nothing.

Oo! Like Gravity Falls, right?

What-

Or maybe it is like Pearl in Steven Universe and we need to stop them from killing the queen-!

Edd, I have no idea what you are talking about.

Ugh, I need to make you watch some good shows.

AH! NOT MATH NOT MATH!

Pft, maybe we shouldn't look at everything.

Yeah, let's just work on finding Tord and helping them out.