#i need to be chemically restrained

[butterflysonnets]

sometimes a family is two queer traumatised substance-abusing teenage boys and their little gay dog

[lipstickontheglass1985]

let it be known that i generally am not a blacklister like i have maybe five tags filtered in total (and those are mostly just spoilers) cause im nosy as fuck and generally am not super bothered even if i come across something somewhat annoying on the dash BUT. at this point im starting to wonder what combination of keywords would i have to blacklist to not have to see people gerard way gender discourse on my dash ever again

[ameliathornromance]

“Ouch!” Your Orc hissed, jerking in pain as you pressed alcohol soaked cloth to his arm. “You can’t be more gentle, can you?”

“Well if you stopped moving,” you returned through gritted teeth, “then it wouldn’t hurt as much. It’s not me that’s causing you pain, it’s the chemical. If I’m any more gentle about it, the pain will just last longer and it will sting a lot more.”

The giant gash in his arm just did not want to stop bleeding. You let out a sigh of irritation as you realised it was going to need stitches. “Hold onto it for me?”

Grumbling, your Orc Boyfriend pressed held the soaked cloth in place as you reached for your medical box behind you, “how did this happen then?”

“I was in the gym,” your boyfriend started, “and this goblin wouldn’t stop trying to take pictures of me, so I told him to put the phone down. He said ‘no, it’s a public space, I can film who I damn well likes’ and his smug face pissed me off. So… I might have gotten a little rough with him.”

You sighed again. Typical of an Orc to start the physical fight. Pulling out a needle and medical thread, you cleaned them, nodding as your boyfriend went on, “and then this little bastard pulls out a knife and just slashed me open!”

Your head whipped around to look at your partner, “what the fuck?!” you set the needle and thread down on your bedside table. “You’re not hurt anywhere else, are you? Oh my God, why did they even let that guy in with a weapon!?” You surveyed your Orcs topless body, searching his green skin for any kind of graze or cut.

“Something about it being for Goblin arts practice.” Your boyfriend grunted, annoyed. “Anyway, he’s then restrained by some of the staff, the police are called and there was also an ambulance.”

“Why didn’t you let the paramedics stitch you up?!” You asked, aghast. “Why would you refuse it and come back here!?”

Meeting your boyfriends gaze, he gives you a sheepish look. “… Because you used to sew up my cuts when I was a cage fighter?”

“That was only on the fly!” You snapped, “I’m not a medical professional, I could have really hurt you doing that!”

He scoffed, “we all could have gotten really hurt doing that. It was underground and illegal for all of us to be there.”

You rolled your eyes and picked up the needle and thread again. You set to work sewing up your boyfriends wound, “that was a very, very long time ago. I don’t know if I’m still any good at this.”

“I trust you.” The Orc said, smiling. “You were always gentle with me whenever I’d come out of the ring.”

You couldn’t hold back your smile, “I was only gentle with you because I liked you.”

Back then, it was difficult to find any kind of joy. You were in a lot of trouble with loan sharks and had to do something to pay them back.

You’d been kicked out medical school, were drowning in their debt… but there’s no reason as to why you couldn’t put to use the little skills you’d learnt.

So you started helping illegal cage fighters with their injuries. They paid well and everyone had a don’t ask, don’t tell policy. Although half of your pay check got taken back by the loan sharks, the fighters you did heal would give you tips of 100 coins, sometimes up to 1000, depending on how they were feeling, so that helped a great deal.

Your boyfriend, known as ‘Big Money’ for his green skin and huge muscular body, was the top fighter there. If you were smart, you betted on ‘Big Money.’ It’s in the name isn’t it? You want to win? You bet big.

Every time you took care of him, he always took you out to dinner as thanks. And eventually, he was taking you out just because, and before long, you were dating.

Everyone knew you as ‘Big Money’s girlfriend’ and rarely gave you any slack… apart from the occasional too big for his boots fighter who snarked you or shoved you away when you tried to tend to his injuries.

When that happened, everyone would treat said fighter like he was a bomb about to go off; no one wanted to be near him, or associated with him And who would? If Big Money was going to get you for disrespecting his girl, you would stay clear too.

A cold shot went through you, “you don’t think that Goblin knew who you were, do you?” you asked.

Your Boyfriend stiffened at the question. He was quiet for a little longer than you’d have liked, but he answered you. “I’m not sure. I didn’t recognise him when I saw him, he might have just been a spectator.”

“Either way… it’s still a concern.”

Your boyfriend was in a similar situation to you too, but the difference was that he was hundreds more in debt than you were. Which is why he was put in the ring. Partly as a punishment, partly as a way to earn back all the money he’d lost.

The pair of you wanted to escape that place. Not because you didn’t want to pay off your debts, but because of the barbarity of the environment.

Every time you saw your Orc coming out of the ring, he just looked worse and worse. Black eyes, shattered orbital bones, fractured fingers and toes, tendon snapping and a whole list of other, much gorier things were what made you both realise you wanted out.

With each time you had to fix up his injuries, your hands became even more unsteady.

The event organisers had no clue of your relationship with their ‘Big Money’ and often berated you, threatening to raise your interest if you couldn’t do your job properly.

“We need to leave.” Your Orc had urged you after a particularly bad fight. Both his eyes were swollen and he had stitches sewn into his bottom lip. He paced up and down your cramped bedroom, “this is getting bad, like, too bad. Who knows what they’ll do if-”

“Just stop saying things like that!” You had said, grasping the sides of your head. “I don’t think I can cope with talking about that kind of thing, if they find out we’re thinking about running, they’ll kill us!”

“No, they won’t.” Your Orc had said, firmly. “They won’t. I won’t let them lay a finger on us.”

He had bent down to you, squeezed your hands reassuringly. “I can do this, get us out of there, but you have to trust me okay? I know a guy, who knows a guy. They can get us out and we won’t have to worry about the debt again.”

When you began to shake your head, your boyfriends puffy eyes meets yours. “Please, (Y/N), trust me on this, they’ll believe we’re dead and gone, they won’t come looking for us!”

The final straw came when your Orc was knocked unconscious for two hours. They’d had him in fight after fight, breaks of ten seconds all but before he had to get back in the cage and fight on.

You had to fight back tears as you shakily stitched up a split eyebrow and tried to keep your cool from going off on the event organiser, who sat behind you and counted bills, feet up on the table in his ironed clean suit, paid for in blood money.

And when your boyfriends stitches had failed to hold together and he went down and out… the blame fell to you.

That was it.

You knew you both had to leave.

Your Orc had woken up with no apparent brain injuries and as soon as you were both able to speak again, you told him, “that guy who knows a guy, how much money does he want from us and how soon can he get us out of here?”

From that point it was simple: a fire would be started, people would have to clear and escape the premises, and that’s when the two of you would run.

You remember what it was like, preparing for it. You had to get your blood drawn every two weeks, not a lot, but just enough for people to know that something had happened to you during the confusion.

Your boyfriend did the same thing. He got all of his – limited payments, just enough for him to eat off of – in cash, so he saved and saved for weeks, you did too.

And the moment that fire broke out, you’d never felt such relief.

The pair of you took off in the crowd and the guy, who knew a guy, spilled the blood you had drawn in those earlier weeks.

You’d both gotten into an unmarked van, before being dropped off in a city where nobody knew your names, your past or what you’d had to do to become free.

Once the adrenaline of getting caught had worn off, the pair of you had celebrated with buying a new flat and staring new careers.

You got into alternative medicine, and now healed people through those means, while your boyfriend became a fitness trainer.

And overall, everything seemed to be going well… until today that was.

The guy your boyfriend knew, had said that you had to avoid being photographed, filmed and having any kind of digital trace if you wanted to avoid being found.

You had completely forgotten about that part. Life had been so good that your past had felt like a nightmare.

But if your anxiety was correct, it seemed like you would need to pack up, go on the run again. Or find a way to get that footage off of the Goblin and delete it… and that’s assuming that he hadn’t already put it on social media or sent it to the event organisers, if he was connected to them.

“Hey,” your Orcs soft voice broke you out of your trace state. You tied off the stitches as he put the knuckle of his finger under your chin and forced you to look at him.

“Whatever happens, we’re going to be alright.” He said, firmly. “No one is going to try and hurt us. I’ll get in contact with my guy, and we’ll see what he can do. Who knows? That little bastard might have just been running a fitness page or something. Since he had a knife, he might just do this sort of thing a lot and expects to get into fights.”

You smiled, grateful for his reassurance. “Yeah.”

Sometimes, occams’ razor is the way to keep your head above water. You still made a mental note to pack a duffle bag full of valuables to make sure that you could both shoot off if you needed to.

But you trusted that your Orc Boyfriend would keep you safe. He’d done so all this time, so what would stop him now?

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@sunndust @greenie-c

[ectologia]

♱ ˖ ࣪࿐ 𝐼𝒩 𝒜 𝑅𝒰𝒯 ؛ 𝓀𝑒𝒾𝑔𝑜 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝒶𝓂𝒾

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 ؛ dubcon ﾉ noncon ﾉ forced breeding ﾉ forced pregnancy ﾉ clit spanking ﾉ creampie ﾉ misogyny ﾉ rut ﾉ baby trapping ﾉ feral keigo ﾉ piss ﾉ marking ﾉ profanity

Keigo’s bigger, softer around the edges but still with that slight cut of pristine muscle lining his torso and limbs. His wings thicken, puffy with a fat down blanketing them with gentle red bristles.

Sweaty too. He doesn’t want to wear any clothes. Granted, he says that all the time. But now it’s not just a want, it’s a need. A priority. He doesn’t feel fit to carry out his primitive desires when he’s being held back and restrained by all that stupid cotton and leather. He needs to be free, needs to let his manhood breathe. Otherwise how could he possibly carry out his responsibility as a daddy? That’s right, he couldn’t.

You leave him to his ludicrous antics of digging out nests in your bed. Making a fine art of curling every blanket, quilt and pillow in the house into a cushty barricaded circle atop your mattress, slapping at the cuddly pile of fabric with an almost crazed look, claiming that your “eggs” are going to be so warm and safe there. Or otherwise scenting you, rubbing his damp neck and hair all over your body, starting off with a gentle kiss to your temple, before sliding down your torso to rub his palms against that little pouch of flesh he knows he’s going to put his babies in, eventually.

Keigo doesn’t like the fact that you still insist on walking around the house fully clothed. He doesn’t, so why do you need to? You’re his mate, his wife, his other half. He knows it’s time to procreate, so why don’t you?

He follows you around the house on another one of your cleaning sprees. His nose wrinkles at the acrid scent of chemicals and lemon in the air, scratching at his throat and burning his sensitive nostrils as you continue to wipe the surfaces and spray away the scent of masculine sweat he worked so hard on drowning the house in. Do you really want another male entering his territory?

There’s only the slightest ring of yellow encircling his otherwise blown pupils. He tunes out after the first 10 seconds of your ranting and scolding. Something about how nobody’s going to “steal you away” if he doesn’t piss on the front door. Yeah, we’ll see about that, he scoffs to nobody but himself, plucking a bent feather from his rugged cape of crimson to flick and mould it back to shape, flicking at the fibrous hairs.

“Keigo, are you even listening to me?” You clap your hands in his face, attempting to garner his attention. “Hello?”

He doesn’t like that one bit, the flailed movements seeming all to similar to an opposing threat, a predator. He blinks away the carnal instinct to rip your arms out of their sockets and puncture your skull with his teeth. “Yes.”

“Well, it doesn’t fucking look like it. Can you repeat any of what I just said?”

“Stop pissing outside.”

“And what else?”

“And on the door.”

Glowing ember’s narrow as you huff, massaging your temples as you begin to pace, stomping about the kitchen with a cloth and spray bottle in hand.

He shudders at the sharp hiss of the pump, spitting at the granite counter and washing away his mark.

“Baby..” He draws closer, wings twitching at the irritating squeak of polished marble. Two large hands, both streaked with thick prominent veins clasp your waist in an attempt to bring your rear closer towards his erect, naked member.

“No, Keigo. Not right now, I’m busy.”

An elbow jabs at his ribs as you continue to scrub away at the surface, leaning over the edge with the pudgy mound of your pussy swaying against his cock and balls with a tantalising momentum.

Before you know it, the bottle is yanked out of your hand and chucked against the wall. The towel clutched between your fingers meets the same fate, ripped in two by a set of talons and left in shreds on the floor.

“Keigo!” You shriek, already pushing against him as he grips you by the neck. “Get off! What’s wrong with you!”

It’s a rhetorical question, and one he has no interest in answering anyway. Too busy with pulling the silk of your pyjama pants down to your toes, along with those stupidly skinny pieces of sheer string you seem to think pass as underwear. He can already see globs of slick bubbling along the apex of your pussy hole. He grins at the sight, running a bent knuckle through the valley of your puffy folds. At least your body knows what it was made for.

“Keigo, stop!” There’s a hint of panic in your voice, squirming as he squeezes the delicate tendons holding your spine in place. Holding you by the scruff as though you were a bad puppy.

He sighs, flecks of spit flying from his mouth in his crazed revolution. His wings extend behind him as he clutches his throbbing shaft in his palm, swirling and bathing the velvety tip in your cunny juice. “I’m sorry, chickadee. But this is just how it is in the real word.” There’s a solemn silence, a heavy seriousness to the air as though he wasn’t rubbing his pulsating slit against your clit, collecting its oozing wetness for an easier turn of events. “You gotta’ take what you want. Gotta’ just fuck it out. Otherwise, we’d go extinct.” He lets out a breathy laugh. “Wouldn’t we, honey bun?”

“Ngh — !” The edge of the counter jabs at your hip bones, rolling on delicate skin that’s sure to be bruised after the ordeal. Your waist bucks as he smacks his swollen tip against your nervous bud.

“Mmh, this is what you wanted.” He repeats the motion, flicking his wrist faster and faster until his spanking becomes rhythmic, slapping the sluggish weight of his member up and down on your pussy. It’s a strategic move on his part, torturing your poor sensitive clitty so you’ll be all that more grateful when he moves on to the main course. “Oh yeah? You like that?” He coos as your back hunches, unsure as to whether you’re trying to curl into the pleasure or away from the pain.

After collecting a sufficient amount of lubrication, he does the same, practically clambering onto the counter with your spine arched in his hands as though he were some type of feral beast or savage hound, hung and ready to fuck and breed his bitch. He squats over your quaking form, shoving you along the smooth surface until his drooling dick nestles itself neatly between the cleft of your asscheeks, bobbing against your scared twat with his tensed ball-sack swinging closely behind.

It’s a wildly contorted position, but one Keigo insists on nonetheless.

“Agh, I’ve been waiting for this.” He grunts. “I’ve been waiting so fuckin’ long, and you just wouldn’t let me fuckin’ have it.” Pulling and tugging on your swollen labia, he separate your sticky little slit until all that’s left to shield you is the tense ring of muscle defending your hole. “Well, that’s fine by me chickadee.” He slips inside with a breathy chuckle, giggling and chortling to himself even as you yelp in pain. “I’ll just do it myself.”

It’s fast paced with an ill rhythm. There’s no love or care to be felt in his thrusts, just cruel harsh punishment, a means to an end until Keigo gets to pump his babies into your precious womb, fill you with his chicks so you can finally be a family. A proper family.

“Agh, and we can do Christmas, and Halloween, and go to the beach.” The thought is almost arousing to him, motivating him into humping your rear faster. “Won’t that be fun, little bird?”

He can be sure you’re crying, or at least close to it. He pays your silent tears no mind, blaming it on the excitement of your new life taking will.

“Kei, please! I told you, I’m not ready!” You arch your neck to plead with him.

His smile falters, twisting into something much more sinister and lecherous. He clamps a palm over the back of your skull and turns you back to the wall, facing your pitiful expression away from him. “You don’t need to be ready. I’ll do everything for you.” A calm hiss meets yours ear. “All you need to do, is lay back and take it.”

He digs into your stomach, smashing your insides to pieces as you lay paralysed beneath him. Cold marble presses against your forehead, cooling your fever as Keigo claps into you from above, a heavy set of hung balls knocking against you.

“Keigo!” You chant his name, broken as you wail out a string of pained moans.

“Yeah, that’s what I wanna hear.” Keigo practically howls. “Let’s be animals baby!”

The domes of his knees crash down either side of you, evidence of his newly contorted position as he ruts into your cunt, foaming at the mouth where his teeth grind. “Yes, yes, yes. Fuck yes. Oh, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna fuckin’ cum. Gonna’ breed this pretty muff full ‘a seed.”

“Keigo, no!”

Funny you seem to think you’re still in charge. After this, you’re never gonna be empty again. He’s gonna stuff you one kid after another and as many as it takes until you become his cute little housewife. The kind that only cooks and cleans and looks after his babies while he’s out working and providing. Oh yeah, it’s all coming together sweet pea.

Keigo belts with laughter as you scream, thrashing and jerking beneath him as he spurts, spraying his seed deep inside your belly and then some. He slips out halfway, looking down to admire the ring of white sewing your gummy crevice together. “Mmh, now that’s what I’m talking about..”

[wintertimewhump]

Magic / powered whumpees getting their powers taken away before being imprisoned is all cool and good, but you know what I like more than that? Situations where it’s impossible / undesirable to take away Whumpee’s powers, and instead a prison built specially to hold them and their powers must be created.

TW: medical whump, captivity

Fire-breathing whumpee kept submerged head to toe in cold water, a tube and mask keeping them breathing with barely enough oxygen.

Whumpee that can manipulate water kept in a cell that feels like an oven, constantly drying any condensation, the only water they’re given being in the form of injections while they sleep.

Super strong whumpee bound with reinforced chains or cords that individually they could easily break- too bad there’s dozens of them, wrapped around every limb, around their waist, their neck, across their chest in an X.

Psychic whumpee forced to wear a helmet that blocks their brain waves, trapping them inside their own head. Additionally, a psychic whumpee that needs to know their surroundings in order to interact with them being subjected to sensory deprivation.

Whumpee whose power comes from their emotions being restrained to a hospital bed while an IV drip fills their bloodstream with sedative, emotion-dulling chemicals that put them in a stupor.

Whumpee with ocular powers made to wear a thick blindfold that doesn’t let even a trace of light through, kept on them for so long they start to forget what their captors’ faces look like.

Just. Whumpee in a cell specifically designed for them, knowing that their captor has planned for any contingency. They won’t be getting out easily.

[tinydefector]

Rut cycle- Prowl

Prowl x human

Word count: 1.1k

Warning: Smut, size difference, thigh fucking.

Masterlist

Rut cycle masterlist

Prowl masterlist

____________________

 Prowls eyes linger on them as he pulls them away from the Decepticons lingering gaze. His doorwings twitch in agitation as he extracts them from yet another cluster of hormonally compromised Mechs. 

His optics flare in the red zone as they squirm in his unforgiving grip, He moves quickly with them until the door to one of the rooms shuts. A deep snarl leaves his frame as blue optics narrow in on their body. They gasp as Prowl pins them in place. Eyes flicking up to his optics as they both stare at each other, neither willing to talk at that moment.  

Prowl's Field radiates pulsing waves of disapproval and barely-restrained need as his optics bore down into their eyes. "Foolish little organic," he growls, "Did you truly believe yourself exempt from the rules, inserting yourself into that den of hormonal deviants? We Autobots prize control, but even the strictest protocols fracture under chemical bombardment. One wrong move and you risk a lot more than you can withstand!" 

 Their mouth hangs open in a small shocked face before Prowl is hit with the wafting scent. The sweet scent almost like crystal Energex with Mercury hits his sensors and it makes him growl again. "I'm sorry I didn't know, I just thought you guys would all appreciate some energon while dealing with negotiations," they stutter, body tense as he holds them against the wall.

A guttural snarl rumbles Prowl's chassis at the sensory overloads assailing systems.  The intoxicating cocktail of hormones and pheromones soaked through hsi plating to the point he knows that if he were to leave the room he would still be able to smell them on his plating. 

coolant floods his interface array, lubricating. His spike pressurises against the locked panel, sending him insane with how his frame responds to them. He wanted so desperately to frag them into oblivion and back for the teasing and suffering it was causing.

"Foolish...Slagging Human," he huffs beside their ear, it sends a shutter up their spine from how close Prowl was, they are nearly caged in against the wall as he speaks slowly to them. A growled curse spews Prowl's vocoder as he pulls back before he could let his intake even taste their skin. 

" Are you truly so naive?" he rumbles, optics boring into them. His grip is almost bruising to the fragile tissue of their body. "Did you fail to notice every Decepticon in the room following your biochemistry trail like glitch hounds?, given the chance they would have scooped you up, used and discarded you without a thought."

Prowl's fans roar at the images assaulting processing units. The thought of them spread atop of his spike, taking as much as they physically can, whimpered moans of his name leaving them as transfluid weep from their used holes. His frame strains at the thought, plating and his wings fluttering at the thought. His optics focus back on their wide eyes. And then it occurred to him, You were playing the fool. “you enjoy Flaunting around base like its a show and shine don't you” he huffs

Vents expel hot gusts across their face as his field bleeds need. They shiver, eyes watching his optics. "I wasn't flaunting myself, I was just making sure you all have energon,  I know how stressed you all get when Decepticons are involved with anything. didn't know you were in a negotiation with them at the time" they state softly only to gasp as Prowl pulls them closer. A strangled keen escapes Prowl's vocalizer at their confession. 

 Optics flaring near-white, Prowl presses them to the inferno of his spike housing, letting them feel the heat that radiates off the plating. One word, and he would spill transfluid in torrents to claim them utterly as his, to unlatch his Interface panel and coat them is his fluid for all to know. 

"That sounds like a lie to me Bits," he rasps. His thumb meets their bottom lip, pressing against the soft flesh before he slowly presses harder. “Mouth, open, now” he orders, tone deep and husky. A low rumbled moan leaves him when they open their mouth. He presses his thumb down against their tongue. “Suck” the roiling pheromones melding their scents into a single intoxicating melody has him groaning in need as he slowly grinds his interface panel between their thighs, each grind has him groaning and hissing out vented air, his fans kicking up a storm. 

Prowl's optics flicker dangerously as panels withdraw, baring his weeping spike.Their eyes widen as they look up at him dumb found as it rests against their stomach. Prowl stiffens a keen, his own fever-glazed optics stare down at them as if they are meat. “My little Spike sleeve aren't you, so willing to have my transfluid” he coos as the bright Pink liquid slowly soaks into their clothing. His engine revs loudly as he grinds against them enjoying the way they wiggle and squirm. 

A smile graces his faceplate, watching as he turns them into the divine sight of sin and pleasure. He lets out a static laced moan as his thumb leaves their mouth letting them take in a shaky breath, his digit dig into their clothing, nearly spreading each layer of fabric as he thrust against their body. “Look at you, so desperate,” he rumbles in delight. He traces a pattern over their stomach. “this is how far my spike would reach in you, I could destroy that pretty little body of yours. You'd like that wouldn't you” he chuckles. 

Moans and whimpers leave their lips,  “Prowl” they cry out, wrapping their legs around his spike tightly as he begins to rut against their body. “Mmm, so good for me” he rumbles. Each grind of his spike has him closer and closer to overload as transfluid runs down their stomach and legs. 

Prowl lets out a loud snarl as his system flashes warning signs, more and more transfluid gushes from him as he lets out a static whine. His overload hits hard as he coats them, more and more shimmering pink fluid runs off their frame. Prowls fans whirring loudly as heated vents brush their body. He runs a digit through his finish before bringing it to their lips. “Suck” He orders with another smile. 

 eagerly take his digits into their mouth, a sound of approval leaves the mech as watches in delight. “perfect little slagger” he hums before leaning down to kiss them, their hands grab onto his faceplate as they kiss him back with vigour. “Have you learned your lesson?” he asked, only to get a nod in response. 

“your to get dressed and meet me back at my Hub, if you aren't spread out on my berth when I get there after these reports I'll be taking you wherever I find you, do you understand?” he raises an optic brow as his blue optics zone in on them.

 “Yes Sir” 

“run along then and stay out of trouble” 

____________________

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[thequeenofuselessinformation]

So basically the entire character list of The ballad of songbirds and snakes is the exes from hell

1. Coriolanus Snow

-Mansplain Manipulate Manwhore

-Great hair and fashion sense

-Love bombs you

-Old money

-His (grand)mom hates you because her son can do no wrong so clearly you're the problem

-His favourite hobby is emotional and mental abuse

-Snitches on you when cheating at family board game night (he's deflecting that he's also cheating)

-Emotionally stagnant (narcissist with mommy and daddy issues)

2. Sejanus Plinth

-Loves you to bits, so does his mom (your waistline will never truly recover)

-Indecisive about where to grab dinner always

-New money and it shows in his insecurity

-Supportive asf

-Breaks up with you because he can't be with a non pacifist/vegan

-Daddy issues

-Condemns Shein hauls

-Identity crisis every other week, you'll have to talk him out of a buzz cut, jumping off the ledge or giving all his money to scammers (if you collect all the stamps you'll get a financial compensation from his dad on the wedding day)

3. Lucy Gray Baird

-Her Ex is a dick, will stalk and harass you

-Her family is a bunch of hippies, will make you eat with your hands, on the floor, while singing Kumbaya

-Sings you to sleep, braids your hair

-Almost poisoned you thrice cause she doesn't understand you shouldn't mix cleaning products together

-Old soul

-Thrifts, recycles

-Puts salt in your coffee after arguments

-Ghosts you after your make or break argument

4. Casca Highbottom

-Never asks about your day, his is always worse

-Drug addict in denial

-Weird beef with his old classmate's son (he never lets anything go)

-Dislikes people, which would be fine if you weren't included

-Always on some sardonic shit, probably a business major with a psych minor

-His pills take all the space in the shared bathroom, your makeup will be shoved in the far lowest drawer next to the TP

-His ancient ass coworkers hit on you at symposiums, he's too high off bathroom cocaine to stop them (or gets off, either way you're tired and want home)

5. Dr Gaul

-Devil Incarnate

-You somehow rizzed her up at a function and she's been showing up at your house ever since (you don't how but she has both the address and a key)

-Petting zoo type of owner

-She always smells like chemicals and latex

-Asks you unhinged "Would you rather" questions and refuses to drop it (makes your Would you love me if i were a worm ex cute by a long shot)

-Will perform experiments on you without your knowledge or consent

-Insists her pet snake shares your bed

-Freak in the streets and the sheets (the restraining order won't even go through cause she's in cahoots with half the Government)

-Definitely wanted for war crimes somewhere, the G in Geneva convention stands for Gaul

6. Lucky Flickerman

-A clown.

-His hair and skincare products take over the entire bathroom/vanity

-He can't dress to save his life, but he sure thinks he can

-Golden retriever boyfriend energy

-Steals your concealer, refuses to admit it

-Would you like to see a magic trick? What do you mean this is a serious fight, there's a quarter up your nose

-Impulsive buyer, has 13 snow globes of panem because they were on sale and looked shiny

-Even his pet thinks he's a dumbass

-Cries during movies

7. Tigris

-Yes she do the cooking, yes she do the cleaning

-Insecure about her appearance (critical, will cost you)

-Her family is a bunch of snobs

-Anything she touches turns into gold

-Her cousin can do no wrong, you have to accommodate everything for him or she'll die (and he never even visits, "just in case")

-Her grandmother is a package deal, I hope you like boomer propaganda and info commercials early on Sunday morning

-Empathetic asf

-Puts everyone's needs above hers (and unfortunately yours)

[babigges]

Another one! I’m not this quick lol I just have a stash built up atp. Not any ocs, I was just really feeling the planty egg vibes? Much happier with this!

As I was drawing this, I was imagining the backstory as well. I’m not a great writer, but I’ve done my best to record my thoughts. Story below the cut!

They’re walking through the forest and it’s near dusk. They’re already nervous because they’ve heard stories about this part of the woods. It’s the part where everyone was told not to go as children, but it’s already late and she needs to make the shortcut.

As it stands, they’ve already walked plenty and are beginning to stumble in the dimming light. Finally, they fall flat out on their tummy having tripped over a large greet root. It’s like no plant they’ve seen before and as their eyes trace it to its source, they let out a sharp gasp. A huge bulb has sprouted from the ground, about the size of a small car. It seems out of place, like it shouldn’t be in this climate. A tropical plant in a dedicious forest like this? The root system seems to trail on many feet away from its source, rising into the tree branches above and dangling like vines. It seems to be in bloom, judging by the small lavender blooms in the sky.

As they study this strange new plant from the ground, they miss the subtle shushing of movement in the grass. With a sudden lurch, they’re pulled from the ground by their ankles, dangling from the very root they tripped over. They struggle and scream for help but quickly realize that no one has dared step foot in this part of the forest for as long as they can remember. They are alone with this new beast of a plant.

The root tentacle moves them above this strange bulb and they fear the worst. Surely, inside of this terrible creature is a gaping maw of razor sharp teeth, ready to turn them into fertilizer. As these thoughts race through their mind, the leaves that make up the body of the plant begin to loosen. With languid movements, they unfold and reveal a shocking sight.

Everything inside of this creature is slick and dripping wet. In the center, glowing mass, slimy and sweet-smelling is revealed to them. Their eyes focus in on oblong shapes, seemingly more solid than the jelly around them, each with a faded yellow center. As they take in this new sight, a long appendage rises up to their body. It is made of the same material as the slime that surrounds the rounded objects but it is in the shape of a long and slight tube. It rises up to their now weakening body.

It reaches their foot first, and they realize that it is not as cold as they thought it would be. A lukewarm appendage slides up their foot, their calf, their thigh, up to the apex of their legs. It pauses here. It’s impossible for them to know, but the creature is taking note of their chemical balance, their ph levels, their pheromones. It needs the perfect warm, wet place for its brood, after all.

Apparently, over-the-pants action is not enough to determine their eligibility, so this luminescent tube begins to wiggle down the front of their pants. They move to slap it away and they get one hit in before more tentacles come up to restrain their arms. Thankfully, they flip them right side up and blood rushes from their head. The relief is short lived because the tube now has free access to their body, and it takes full advantage. With surprising strength their pants are ripped away and their lower half is exposed to the cool evening air. A shiver runs down their spine and not just from the chill. Something about being tied up has always gotten them a little hot, but this is a whole new level.

This green tube finally investigates what it has been searching for. They can see the end of it open slightly. A small pulse, perhaps a sniff? Is it sniffing their fucking pussy? It seems to approve and moves to touch their slick entrance. It swipes up and down, brushing over their clit, and they can’t help but to let out a small moan. It pauses for a moment and they freeze. Can this thing hear them? It brushes their now swollen bud and they let out another groan of pleasure. It slides down to continue its investigation and finds the entrance to their core. It pushes inside, only slightly but they can’t help but to gasp at the intrusion. It’s thicker than it looks. Suddenly, it retreats and they’re left almost disappointed.

This creature has processed all it needs to know for what it is about to do. The only thing left is to prepare this small, fragile thing to take what it will give.

A fine yellow powder begins to drift from above. It settles into their hair and all over their skin. Their heartbeat quickens, faster than ever before. Their skin is scorching with heat but it is nothing compared to the building fire within their core. Their nipples harden and ache for touch. In fact, their whole body aches to be touched. Whimpers begin to slip from their mouth and viscous wetness leaks from their tight little hole. It’s pulsing now, needy and begging for something to grip around.

They don’t have to wait long. The tube from before rubs itself over their entrance, drenching itself in their slick. The stimulation is already almost too much for them and loud moans escape their mouth. Once again, the tentacle pushes at their hole. For a moment, there’s pressure, but it gives away to a burning pleasure as it slowly presses deeper than they’ve ever taken anything before. It inches forward, allowing their needy hole to accommodate the intrusion until it touches their cervix. Normally, this would prove extremely uncomfortable, even painful, but the pollen must have loosened their body enough to eliminate the pain it would have caused. Their back is arched and they are frozen in place, struck with the new sensation. Just as slowly as it entered, it begins to retreat. The dragging of this slick appendage along their inner walls brings tears to their eyes. It’s almost too much. It retreats almost entirely and as their body clenches around air they whine loudly, already missing the thick length.

It rushes suddenly inside, bottoming out in a second and again they are struck with pleasure, mouth frozen wide open. The tentacle begins it’s onslaught in earnest, truly loosening up their poor little pussy. It sets a punishing tempo but they take it in stride, unable to hold back the tears leaking from their eyes. Slickness runs down their inner thighs and the filthiest, sloppiest sounds fill the evening air. They didn’t even notice the sounds they made as shame falls away completely and their body takes all the beast gives them, almost like it was made for this. The pleasure builds to a peak and with a particularly well-placed thrust, the bubble expanding inside pops and their body goes rigid. No sound escapes as their mouth hangs open and their hole flutters and grips the tentacle.

They can barely breathe as the tube pushes even deeper, past their cervix and deep into their womb. They are filled, deeper and more completely than ever. It pulses for a moment and they see a minty substance rush up the translucent tentacle. It floods their womb with that lukewarm temperature and they can feel a slight expansion in their belly from the sheer amount of fluid it pumps deep inside them.

Eyes screwed shut, they fail to notice yet another tube rising behind them. It snakes around their neck and slithers into their mouth. They don’t even hesitate before beginning to suck on the appendage. They now have two tentacles thrusting inside of them. The taste is bitter sweet, like the flesh between the rind and the red part of a watermelon. It fills their mouth completely and as they suck it thrusts further and further down their throat. They don’t even gag because of the relaxing effect of the beasts pollen. Somehow, the tube is pumping air inside and they can breathe through the thick length down their throat. Their eyes roll back and they almost cum again over the new sensation, having never been able to take something so deep in their throat.

Their eyes flash open as they feel a new pressure at their entrance. They look down and see one of the oblong objects has traveled up the tube and is now pressing against their entrance. Perhaps they should be scared of the idea of getting filled by another creatures eggs, but in their state of euphoria they only consider how good it would feel to get even more stretched out. It presses forward and their head flings back, stars in their eyes over the delicious stretch. It’s thicker than anything they’ve ever taken and they groan around the tentacle stuck entirely down their throat. There’s a popping sensation and their hungry pussy swallows the egg deep inside of themself. It follows up past the entrance of their womb and settles there with a heavy, almost comforting weight.

Slowly, the tentacle deep in their pussy begins to thrust again. They can feel the liquid and the egg sloshing around deep in their belly. They hear a ringing in their ears as the egg bumps up against the walls of their womb, moving with the thrust of the creature. Soon another egg has traveled up the tube and with another stretch and another pop, it is swallowed up to join the first. They bump and rub against each other inside of their belly. Another egg soon follows, followed by another, and another, and another, until they lose count entirely. They’re lost in waves upon waves of ecstasy. That is until a new sensation arises from their mouth.

The tentacle in their mouth has begun to pulsate and they see smaller, more spherical objects squeeze through the tube and into their mouth. As they travel, the appendage dives deeper and deeper down their esophagus, until it reaches their stomach. It seems their body has more than one place to carry a brood of eggs. They slide down their throat and begin to fill their belly as well.

By now, their body has expanded beyond that of what should be possible. They would look like their in their third trimester if it wasn’t for the lumpy appearance the eggs gave their belly. As the eggs continued pouring inside of them, their skin was stretched then enough for the luminosity of the eggs to begin showing through. They couldn’t help but think about how beautiful their new, stretched-out belly looked.

Eventually, after what must of been hours of rolling orgasms, seemingly overlapping each other, the eggs and the thrusting slowed. Their exhausted, sweaty body sagged at the cessation. A final egg slid past their now loose entrance, meeting no resistance, and joined the countless others deep inside their womb. The tentacle in their mouth retreated and they opened and closed their mouth, working out their now sore jaw. Perhaps the pollen was beginning to wear off?

Before it retreated, the tentacle dug so deep in her core had one last task to complete. It exited their womb but left their cervix covered with a thicker, stickier goop that began to solidify. It had plugged their womb shut, making sure it’s eggs and it’s cum would stay firmly inside their womb. Slowly, it began to lower them down into the slimy base of leaves. There were no more eggs for them to avoid because they were now all inside them. The creature passed several tentacles over their swollen belly, seemingly checking on the eggs condition. Satisfied, they moved to cradle their exhausted, limp body. Even if they wanted to, they couldn’t run away because of how fucked-out, cock-drunk, and heavy they now felt. The slightest movement shifted the mass of eggs inside them and they rubbed on their belly to feel just how large they had become. They couldn’t help but feel entirely satisfied. The plant continued to caress their whole body, with one tentacle sliding up their leg to meet their still-swollen clit.

They let out a long sigh of satisfaction as the tentacle rubbed circles around their nub. Tracing down around their entrance to gather some left-over slick it continued its pattern. Their breath quickened a little, but they remained fully relaxed and their loose limbs felt evermore limp. The beast had one more trick up its proverbial sleeve, however. The small opening on the end of the tentacle latched onto her clit and lazily began to suck. At this, their legs stretched out and a deep-throated groan came from their mouth. Another, smaller tentacle slid into their stretched out pussy and rubbed up against that spongy part within their hole. These combined sensations made their eyes screw shut and their hands tighten into fists. Once again, it was almost too much. They were already so entirely full and the sucking on their clit and the smaller tentacles deft movements inside them had them baring down hard. They were at that peak again, and with a final scream they dove deep into euphoria, once again. This time, however, they felt a gush release from deep inside. Their release drenched the tentacles as they gulped down air, still unable to move due to the weight of the eggs. The one latched on her clit continued to suck until they began to beg for it to stop, and it did. The creature can hear after all.

They settled into the surprisingly soft and spongy base of the plant and decided to wait the whole ordeal with the egg pregnancy out. Apparently, the “eggs” that went down their throat weren’t eggs after all. They felt nourished, full, and they weren’t even thirsty after loosing all that fluid. They reached an arm out and caressed one of the tentacles and it wrapped around their palm. Again, they cradled their body, supporting the pendulous belly in a more comfortable position. They sighed once more as their eyes began to droop. They may not have been turned into fertilizer, but they did get fertilized.

[acapelladitty]

shifting sands

Summary: Caught in a moment of weakness by the Scarecrow, Bruce finds himself held in a position that sheds fresh light on the twisted dynamic which connects him to the self-proclaimed Master of Fear.

Fic Masterlist ☆ AO3 Link

(tw list: spitting, canon typical violence, obsessive talk and thoughts, shock collars, unwanted advances)

Bzzt.

A vicious bolt of electricity rocked through Bruce's neck as the shock collar delivered yet another warning - this one a result of his fingers as they rolled across the thick leather-bound collar which circled his throat. He was attempting to find a weak spot which could be used to snap the device free without damaging his neck but his investigations were quickly ended by the electrical current making his fingers clench involuntarily with a cruel, continuous spasm.

"Keep those trembling fingers safe, Bat." Crane's deep, familiar voice warned, the deadpan tones of which were betrayed by the slight, excited tremble that slithered across the syllables. "Otherwise..."

The threat hung in the air as Crane dropped to his haunches before Bruce's kneeling frame. Even with the difference in height, the hulking mass of Bruce's wide torso - bolstered by the thick armour of his suit - engulfed Crane's much more sleek limbs and the smell of burlap was quick to fill his senses as the shock ended as quickly as it had started up.

Crane had caught him off-guard, a shameful moment of weakness which left him vulnerable to having the shock collar looped around his throat. With it came a thick plume of orange-tinted smoke and the tell-tale initial symptoms of Crane's fear toxin, a haze which Bruce immediately recognised as his body instinctively started to fight off the blossoming effects with increased adrenaline. The rough blow to his head continued to throb its distress, sparking a disorientation which was only made worse by the chemicals now freely coursing through his pulsing veins.

"I won't kill you, Bat. We have far more interesting work to do together but your refusal to work with me through your issues without resorting to snapping my wrists or breaking my jaw is bothersome. The collar will nicely do its job to keep you in check while my toxin runs its course and lays your anxieties bare."

Of all the costumes villains who lurked within the walls of his city, Crane was truly one man who Bruce had dedicated more thoughts to than many of the others. Both he and the scientist used fear as a weapon and that foil was one which he could not ignore in those more introspective moments. A brilliant mind poisoned by circumstance and experiences which no child should have been forced to endure, and yet, such incredible work only served to cause pain and misery to those unfortunate enough to stumble into Crane's path. Including Bruce.

He hated Crane's fear toxin. Hated it with such fervour that he often had to restrain himself from breaking more than just Crane's bones when he was finally captured and subdued, ready to be hauled back to Arkham. The constant, developing flux of his toxin, growing ever more potent and vile, brought his traumas to the forefront of his focus in a way that was often difficult to pull back from.

And Crane knew of his trauma.

Not the specifics, but his knowledge and expertise made him a dangerous opponent to face as he often commented on the myserious traumatic event which Bruce must have undergone to force himself to follow the life he did. To sacrifice everything to right some wrong that had shattered his worldview and forced him to build anew. These and other such facts about his own life were always delivered with the same creeping certainty, a professional cadence poisoned by something almost fascinated - a need to know what horrors lurked in the shadows by his side and demanded such discipline and penance.

"Crane." Bruce's gritted out between his teeth, an attempt to rise to his feet being offset with a grunt as Crane kicked harshly at his knees to keep him down. "You're insane if you thin-"

"Insane." Crane scoffed, interrupting quickly. "You do love your petty diagnoses," his thin hand dropped to press at the collar which wrapped around Bruce's throat as a wide grin split his lips, "but we both know I'm beyond that now."

In his darkest moments, Bruce almost wondered what would happen if Crane did break through and discover his secrets. Would having that clouded, driving suspicion finally brought into the light satiate Crane's curiosities enough to allow him to move to fashioning a workable solution?

Could there be a solution which would allow him to stop waking every night in a cold sweat as the echoes of gunfire swept away with the dusk breeze?

Possibly.

But it was a reality which would never come to fruition and regardless of the shudder which Crane's words and action forced to spread across Bruce's skin like a creeping chill, it was a thought better banished to the recesses of his mind. A temptation that needed smothered in the crib.

"I know such submission must feel like a thousand daggers piercing your toughened hide," Crane continued, his finger hovering over the button to deliver a fresh shock, "but one must accept a loss of control from time to time, even if we fear handing those reins over to another. You've made me realise that about myself, boy, and I would live to see the lesson returned."

Refusing to allow Crane into his head, Bruce lashed out with his fist but narrowly missed as the collar sprung to life and caused his hands to drop to the floor as he grit his teeth against the intense pain which flowed through his most vulnerable skin.

"Hmm, perhaps you are not quite there yet. I fear we may need to press the issue deeper. Open your mouth."

Stubborn if a little confused, Bruce did not and his gaze remained staunchly planted on Crane's manic expression as he refused to indulge the shifting shadows which lay behind as they threatened to reveal their hidden demons to him. But another sharp flash of agony made him grunt as the collar delivered another shock across his neck. It was the sting of a thousand needles and it was continuous as Crane kept his finger pressed on the button until Bruce was no longer able to withhold his reaction and roughly gasped as his muscles spasmed.

However, as soon as the breath left his throat, Bruce blinked as Crane used the opportunity to pull at the ears of his cowl and spit into his mouth. Disgust flared and recoiled violently in his throat as something equally as hot laced around it, anger and an unfamiliar humiliation lancing his gut as he reacted to the insult in kind by launching himself forward and knocking Crane to the floor.

Rolling across the dusty floorboards in a messy pile of limbs and hissed insults, there would only be one winner and Bruce felt heat flush across his face - rage and loathing mixing with adrenaline - as he pinned Crane to the floor with a hard movement which left him straddling the much thinner man. His hands wrapped around Crane's wrists so harshly that he swore he heard the bones creak, Bruce took a steadying breath as he glared down at his fully winded enemy.

Crane's eyes were wild, filled with a delirious pleasure that he has achieved such a rise, and Bruce experienced his revulsion anew as he felt a distinct hardness pressing at his inner thigh. In an instant, the obsessive tone and need to push which Crane had been indulging in their recent confrontations gained some clarity and the disgust gained a bedfellow of petty irritation as Bruce narrowed his gaze.

"You're a monster, Crane."

If anything, his words only seemed to excite Crane more as his bony hips rolled against Bruce's body - pressing roughly into the smooth material of the batsuit as a flush sat high in his thin cheeks.

"As as you, Bat. Such control over your fears, such desperate control. Only a man who has known horror with a terrible intimacy would dare to have such a tight, stranglehold on his anxieties. My studies have robbed me of my ability to fear but you," Crane grinned as a huff of breath filled the air between them, "you have mastered your own in a way that is unthinkable. You could be my key."

Darting forward with a serpentine strike, Crane once again opened his mouth but this time his tongue brushed across the exposed flesh of Bruce's chin - the skin there damp with sweat and roughened by the slightest stubble. His tongue was wet and warm and Bruce hid his recoil well as he pulled his head back only enough to ensure that he couldn't do it again.

Visibly pleased by whatever picked up taste was now swirling around his mouth, Crane continued on his deranged musings.

"Such a lovely specimen. The perfect key wrapped in such pretty packaging and begging to be ripped to shreds, exposed to the world. As the key to unlocking fear itself, you would serve a greater cause than anything you are currently willing to die for, boy."

Feeling uneasy at just how earnest Crane's words were, the genuine passion which coiled around each word like a serpent, Bruce felt the revelations of the confrontation shift the hateful dynamic he shared with the mad scientist. Obsession was more treacherous than hate; a savage tango he had endured before and one he had no wish to take part in again as Crane was too dangerous a partner to allow a space on his dance card.

With the remote to the shock collar lying inaccessible off to the side, the cold air of the warehouse swept across their heated position as both men took their time in sizing up the other, Crane's fierce delusion met by Bruce's calculated composure, their brilliant minds considering the next move of the chessboard.

Whatever it would prove to be, the change that had shifted the tide was undeniable.

[oldiesstationlover11607]

Hey! I loved your work! Can you write something with Gerard on the reunion tour and a reader who is a singer and is opening for the tour? (I'm sorry if it's confusing, English is not my first language)

HI! Thank you so much for liking my writing. I hope you like this one! let me know if you're looking for something different though.

Opener - Reunion!Gerard Way x GN!Reader

Pairing: Gerard x GN!Reader

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 1,456

Summary: You open for MCR on the reunion tour

My Chemical Romance. Reunion Tour. With Y/N. Those were the words displayed on the large signs in front of the venue. We had been on tour for a few weeks then, but the nerves never subsided. I pulled out my entry pass and walked through the backstage halls towards my dressing room. My soundcheck wasn’t for another hour, but I thought I’d go and scout out the stage area. I grabbed a Coke from the mini fridge and found my way to the stage entrance. Music was playing, but I was sure that was just the crew checking the speakers. Oh, how I was wrong. The whole crew was setting up instruments, and Mikey, Ray, and Frank were soundchecking their instruments.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” I stuttered, moving out of the way. Being on tour with My Chem had been a dream come true, but four weeks into the tour and little interaction with anyone in the band felt isolating, to say the least–especially since I was a solo artist.

“Wait!” I heard a voice shout, and I turned around to see someone standing up at the very back of the venue. I squinted through the lights and saw they were waving me over. Trying to avoid tripping over the cables lining the stage, I walked over to the figure. He was shorter than I expected him to be, his hair was long and brown, and he was dressed in a twilight t-shirt, a pair of jeans, and a green flannel. A twilight shirt. This 45-year-old man was wearing a twilight shirt. I almost had to restrain myself from laughing.

“Y/N, I’ve been trying to find a good time to talk to you, you know,” he smirked. Gerard Way was smirking at me.

“Wait really?” I questioned, shocked that the frontman of one of my favorite bands was wanting to talk to me.

“Yeah. I just wanted to say I’m really glad we’ve got you on tour with us. I actually chose you to open. Been a fan for a while.” I stayed silent, entirely shocked that he was saying anything to me at all–let alone that he liked my music.

“Are you okay? You look like you need something to drink or you’re going to pass out,” Gerard placed a hand on my shoulder and bent down to look in my eyes. I nodded quickly, starting to feel a little dizzy.

“Yeah, I think I need some water,” I mumbled.

“Mikey! Can you pass me my water?” he shouted, Mikey throwing a plastic water bottle halfway across the venue. Gerard ran to pick it up, opened it, and passed it to me. I took a drink and a few deep breaths.

“I think I’m okay now, thank you,” I smiled.

“Good. Now I think it might be time for you to do a soundcheck. It looks like the others are done.” He got up from his seat and walked back towards the stage as I stumbled behind him. “Oh, and after the show, come find me. I want to show you something,” he beamed, slipping behind the curtain and disappearing backstage.

Soundcheck went well, and I had gone through all of the songs for the night. I was playing for about two hours, so I headed backstage to relax, call some of my friends, and respond to any emails or social media stuff I needed to. This was when I opened up my Instagram and found the post, a photo of me from behind, sound checking next to a sketch of the same thing, Gerard’s name signed at the bottom. The caption, wonderfully put: Our opener is both fantastic and beautiful - see them tonight and every night of tour! They’re going to do amazing things with their art and I can’t wait to see where it takes them. Especially with me as their number 1 fan - G

Sorry, Gerard Way called me beautiful. This wasn’t happening. Notifications were popping up on every social platform, we were trending on Twitter, fan accounts on Instagram were posting, and my text messages were blowing up. But there was no time to go and talk to Gerard or anyone else because the stage manager was rushing me to the stage, shouting, “Ten minutes till show time!” over and over again. The gig went great; everything went well, and the fans seemed to react well to my performance. After I’d finished and had a shower, I put on some sweatpants and a hoodie to watch Gerard and the others play on the television screen in my dressing room. The group ended with sleep and came backstage for a quick break before the encore. I ran out to see Gerard, who was very clearly out of breath and trying desperately to catch it.

“We need to talk when you’re done,” I looked at him with crossed arms. He nodded, looking slightly terrified that I was mad at him. It definitely didn’t help that Frank wouldn’t shut up teasing him as I walked away. They all went back on stage to play Helena and Vampires. The sound of the crowd screaming could be heard on the other side of the venue, even with closed doors. I could hear the band finishing up as each one of them ran down the hallway to their dressing room, except one. I heard a loud knock sound from outside my room. It was him; it had to be him. Opening the door, I knew I was right. He stood there panting and looking like a sweaty mess.

“Hi,” he breathed, running a hand through his sweaty hair. I opened the door further to let him in, and he immediately collapsed onto the couch.

“You guys had a good show,” I muttered, trying to avoid the topic of his Instagram post.

“Thanks, it felt good. But that’s not why I’m here, Y/N,” he sat up, having finally caught his breath.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“I didn’t mean to cause an issue if you’re upset about the post. I just–I’m so fascinated with you… and your music. And god,” he gushed, “you’re so beautiful.” A smile grew on my face.

“You’re pretty cool too, Gerard.” I moved to sit next to him, and he scooted closer to me. I looked into his green eyes, desperately trying to read his mind. Was I insane, or did he feel something for me too? His hand moved up to cup my face, and I closed my eyes in response.

“Let’s both just breathe before we do anything we regret, okay?” I nodded, hoping he was going to kiss me. I felt the air enter my lungs and exit slowly before opening my eyes again. I felt a hand grip the back of my neck before my lips met his. They were rough, clearly desperate to feel something. I thought back to the teenager who had posters of My Chemical Romance on their bedroom walls and the reaction they would have if they knew what we were doing right then. The kid whose favorite song was Sleep, whose favorite music video was I’m Not Okay, who wished to be the very man before them. I was lucky, lucky that Gerard Way was sitting there showing me that every moment of disappointment it took to get here was worth it. I breathed through my nose, resting my arms around his shoulders and smiling into the kiss before it broke.

“I’m sorry, I had to,” Gerard rested his forehead against mine.

“It’s okay, Gee, I wanted it,” I ran my fingers through his hair, curls starting to form from the heat.

“Okay, you two, get a fucking room,” Frank laughed from the doorframe.

“We’re in a room!” I shouted, smiling brightly.

“Get another room!” Mikey shouted, walking past us. Finally being left alone, we moved into each other’s arms, finally cooling off from performing.

“We should probably figure out what we’re gonna do now that the guys know,” Gerard turned to me.

“Want to go get coffee?” I asked.

“See, this is why I like you!” he beamed, standing up and grabbing his car keys.

//

Feedback is appreciated! Please request on my page if you have a story idea. I write for lots of different fandoms so request anything and I'll write it!

[whumpbump]

Whumpee was unable to stop crying. They were gasping for breath, for life, as the tears rolled down their face in a race to their chin.

“Breathe, breathe with me, Whumpee, just breathe.”

The nurses were used to the crying and didn’t bother trying to stop it anymore, just sedate and move on. The new Psychologist was determined to find a way.

“Bu- dih- a-a-I ca-a-an’t” the desperately miserable person wailed harder.

“Ok, then let it out.”

*sniff* “What?”

“Let it out. All of it. Scream if you need to. You’re allowed, and I won’t let them sedate you.”

The very thought of this actually stopped the tears. No one had ever, LET Whumpee cry before. They were penalized for crying by physical and chemical means. No one ever allowed Whumpee to cry it out. The thought of processing it all by actually letting it out… gave Whumpee, peace? The peace they never had before? Why were they feeling better?

They dried their eyes and looked up at the Psychologist and took a breath in and out. Psychologist smiled at them. “Does that feel better? I won’t let anyone keep you from crying, ok?”

“ok.” whispered the restrained person from their bed. Psychologist slowly undid the restraints.

“I don’t think we’ll need these right now, thank you.” Psychologist cut off the nurse who tried to stop them when they saw what was being undone.

“We’ve made a breakthrough.”

[ameliathornromance]

Cage Fighter! Orc x Reader

A/N: Just as I was uploading this I thought I could write more about Cage Fighter!Orc hehe, let me know if you guys are interested in him! TW: Mention of violence, description of injury but not in gross detail.

“Ouch!” Your Orc hissed, jerking in pain as you pressed alcohol soaked cloth to his arm. “You can’t be more gentle, can you?”

“Well if you stopped moving,” you returned through gritted teeth, “then it wouldn’t hurt as much. It’s not me that’s causing you pain, it’s the chemical. If I’m any more gentle about it, the pain will just last longer and it will sting a lot more.”

The giant gash in his arm just did not want to stop bleeding. You let out a sigh of irritation as you realised it was going to need stitches. “Hold onto it for me?”

Grumbling, your Orc Boyfriend pressed held the soaked cloth in place as you reached for your medical box behind you, “how did this happen then?”

“I was in the gym,” your boyfriend started, “and this goblin wouldn’t stop trying to take pictures of me, so I told him to put the phone down. He said ‘no, it’s a public space, I can film who I damn well likes’ and his smug face pissed me off. So… I might have gotten a little rough with him.”

You sighed again. Typical of an Orc to start the physical fight. Pulling out a needle and medical thread, you cleaned them, nodding as your boyfriend went on, “and then this little bastard pulls out a knife and just slashed me open!”

Your head whipped around to look at your partner, “what the fuck?!” you set the needle and thread down on your bedside table. “You’re not hurt anywhere else, are you? Oh my God, why did they even let that guy in with a weapon!?” You surveyed your Orcs topless body, searching his green skin for any kind of graze or cut.

“Something about it being for Goblin arts practice.” Your boyfriend grunted, annoyed. “Anyway, he’s then restrained by some of the staff, the police are called and there was also an ambulance.”

“Why didn’t you let the paramedics stitch you up?!” You asked, aghast. “Why would you refuse it and come back here!?”

Meeting your boyfriends gaze, he gives you a sheepish look. “… Because you used to sew up my cuts when I was a cage fighter?”

“That was only on the fly!” You snapped, “I’m not a medical professional, I could have really hurt you doing that!”

He scoffed, “we all could have gotten really hurt doing that. It was underground and illegal for all of us to be there.”

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[97keanu]

shotgunning a cigarette with john wick (especially young jardani) is all i can think abt right now

John's breath is visible in the cold of the night, the stink of the city rising from the gutters in the alley. You take a deep drag from the cigarette he passed you earlier. It fills your lungs with welcomed smog, and you exhale before your lungs can protest the chemicals being held for too long. Neither of you speak as the smoke dances in the air between you two. You don't need to. This little routine of yours has been suiting you both quite nicely without many words so far.

You look out into the starless night, tapping the cigarette off to the side before passing it back to John without looking. You think about how different things are for people like you. How much your feet ache despite leaning against the brick wall for support. Your ruined toes from the strict ballet routines, the callouses on your hands matching the blisters on blisters.

You don't want to think about what they teach John. You know he's due for his first true mission soon, you're both beginning to be old enough to truly start being of value to the 'family's' business.

You don't notice John's sharp eyes caressing your features. You only glance over when your thoughts drift away, and the craving for another hit of the cigarette hits. You catch his stare, and he doesn't look away, he isn't one to be embarrassed about something like that. You wonder for a moment how long he's been eyeing you, but ignore it, and reach a hand out towards that little fire John holds in his hand between you. He pulls it back, not cruely, but as if he must.

This surprises you, but you don't know what to say. John speaks for the first time tonight.

"I'm headed off tomorrow night." he says it plainly, no deeper explaining, but you know what this means. He is going out to kill for the first time, for real, not the sparing he does with the other boys. No, he will use the sharpened skills he's learned, or he won't be back. You say nothing, but you give a small, short nod of understanding, and one of your hands reaches to smooth the white, fluffy tuelle of your ballet dress. John continues.

"I want to try something with you, if you'll let me..." He isn't nervous when he speaks. He says everything so plainly, but right now you know whatever he is suggesting is important to him, so you turn towards him fully. You look deep into those brown eyes, practically as black as the night sky above right now, only a small overhead yellowing light on the side of the building casting a glow on both of you. He sees your willingness to listen, and the space between the two of you closes so slowly, you hardly notice John is even moving towards you. He is truly, stealthy.

"Stop me if this displeases you..." His voice has softened, just barely, the words ebbing upwards with the frost of his breath. You know he means it when he says that, you trust that he would never do something to displease you to begin with, but your heart picks up as he moves closer. He brings that glowing ember back to his lips and takes a deep drag, tendrils of smoke escaping his mouth as he pulls the cigarette away at last.

He closes the gap between you until he is leaning down, his height having always been there, suddenly more noticeable. John hasn't released the smoke from his lungs, not yet. He's savoring the moment. His hand is warm when it touches your waist, bringing you in until your lips are brushing his, both of you open and waiting for the other. You give a small movement towards him for the first time since this started, and that's all he needs.

John presses lips into yours with a hunger, a need barely kept at bay, still restrained. He is well trained, indeed. He kisses you, moving gently in sync with your lips, and you respond perfectly in time. You are also trained, synchronicity coming easy to a ballerina like you.

John's lungs must be aching by now, but the kiss goes on, one of his large hands reaching up to place a thumb against the base of your neck, feeling you there, and then wrapping so gently to crook you deeper into him. You feel a moan bubble up from the gesture, and feel as if you are but a swan in wolf's teeth. John bites your lower lip gently, pulling it down and asking you to open. You oblige, and he softly breathes the smoke he has been holding into your awaiting lungs.

You take it hungrily, softly sucking in to meet what has been contained inside him. You feel as if more than just smoke has entered your body. You can feel a piece of John, as if he is giving you some small part of him. As if to say, 'if I don't make it back, remember this part of me, the part that didn't kill. The part that breathed life into another. Carry it with you.' Your cheeks burn in the cold as your lungs fill to the brim and the rest over flows and descends upwards into the night.

John seals the breath he's given you with a final, passionate kiss. It's as if he's stamped your petal like lips with a flame that wasn't supposed to grow there. When his lips pull away, leaving heavy breaths and even heavier lids looking, searching deeply into one another, you can't help but feel like John has lit a coalfire in the pit of your stomach. From the look he's giving you, you can tell he feels the same, maybe even better knowing what he's done to you, how he's tainted you before he must take his leave.

"John..." His name drifts from your lips onto his, and he stops you with the brush of another kiss.

"We should go back inside..." He hasn't taken his eyes off you, you're still so close it hurts. You know he's right, but this moment is intimacy that neither of you have every been allowed here, in this place that teaches only death. You search him, a hand you didn't notice is gripping his shirt. You hold that fabric tightly, and your knuckles shake when your mind thinks to let go.

"I know..." John says simply, and you know he does. "Meet me here again, in a days time, as we usually do."

"But..." You begin, not able to bring yourself to the 'what if' of no one being here when you come.

"I would not allow myself to let you down. You know that." And you do. John will do everything in his power to make sure your little ritual out here is unbroken. You know he will come back. He must. Your grip loosens, and you two part. You both go back to your comfortable silence, and head inside.

The heat of John's lips and hand around your throat hold you through out that night. You dream of a wolf who takes you gently in it's teeth. It doesn't let go.

Next part here!

[whumpy-wyrms]

The Last Lab Rat CYOA #9

TLLR AU masterlist | TLLR masterlist

content: whumpee pov, lab whump, sorta drugging but not really, scientist carewhumper

You chose: Timidly drink it. You’re wary, but you’re in too much pain not to.

— 

You sigh. He’s already got you exactly where he wants you. You’re trapped and restrained with a sprained ankle, you know what happens when you refuse him, so there’s nothing much you can do but comply. Besides, if you refuse, he’ll probably find a way to get that into your system anyway, and you’d rather take the easy way this time. And it’s probably a good idea to try and gain this guy’s trust so you can use it to escape later.

So, despite being horrified about what this strange looking liquid will do to you, you timidly reach out and grab the vial from his hands. You see him smiling from the corner of your eye, no doubt glad that you're actually complying for once. Then slowly, with shaking hands, you bring the vial to your lips and take a sip.

It tastes odd- strong, overwhelming your senses, and yet you can’t pinpoint the flavor or if it even has one. You grimace as you gulp it down quickly and try your hardest to ignore the strange taste as the glowing liquid slides down your throat. Once you’re done, you lick your lips and timidly look up at Anton.

“There, that wasn’t so bad,” he says, plucking the empty vial out of your hand. “Your ankle should heal in no time.” He ruffles your hair and smiles down at you.

Goosebumps spread across your skin. He keeps doing that. It should bother you, but for some reason… it doesn’t.

You’re both still sitting on the floor, your back against the wall and him sitting cross crossed legged across from you. Your eyes flicker to the window to your right, the constant looming reminder of that strange place just on the other side of the glass. You wonder what he just made you drink, and if he’d just mixed it up himself with all those strange tubes of chemicals you see out there.

Your captor follows your gaze out the window, watching you look out at his laboratory with worry painted over your face. He tilts his head.

“You’re wondering why you’re here, aren’t you?” He asks, giving you that same gentle smile.

You look at him and nod, hearing your heart thumping rapidly in your chest in nervous anticipation. Finally, finally, he’s going to tell you everything. Took him long enough.

“I’m a scientist.” He grins, twirling the empty glass vial between his fingers as he talks. “I have a lot of ideas and a lot of goals… but it was getting too dangerous to keep experimenting on myself. I need a new human subject to test my experiments on, so that’s what you’re for!”

Dread pools in your stomach. “Your… test subject?”

“Yes! All you have to do is stay here and let me test out whatever experiment I want to do on you. It’s not that bad. There won't be that much pain, if I can help it.” He ruffles your hair affectionately. “I’m sure it’s a lot to process, and I’ll give you all the time to adjust that you need. But everything will be much easier if you accept it. I know you’ll come to like it here.”

Well… now you know.

next

— 

glad we agreed to drink his silly juice 🧪🧪🧪!!! it’s so scrumptious!!! best thing i've ever tasted fr i want more!!!

taglist: @creppersfunpalooza @whumpsday @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @inkwell-and-dagger @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

@vidawhump @bottlecapreader @whumpinthepot @lumpywhump @paperprinxe

@indigoisaspookyghost2 @lumpofsand @whump-till-ya-jump @inhurtandincomfort @echo-of-umbra

@sariadragon

let me know if you want to be removed or added to the taglist!

[smoothiedreams]

Bakugou/kirishima headcanons time!

I have nothing to do on my miserable life so why not

[This might include some relationships each character has on their individual daily routine, friendships are real, not only ship can u believe it? I tend to forget haha]

First of all, they train together, like on gym, Bakugou enjoy hitting things with all he got but he can be real moderate when training other exercises. While he is on the treadmill kirishima is training calisthenics, and while bakugou practices boxing punches and karate moves kiri is there lifting himself on some beam.

Kirishima likes bakugou's shoulders and arms a lot, he thinks they are maily attractives. Bakugou likes kiri's chest and belly, nothing more mesmerize than his boyfriend's tummy.

They usually take combat classes with uraraka. She and kiri are gym bros, eventually sato joined them and bakugou surprisely is very calm during these times. He does his exercises alongside them but doesn't necessarily exclude himself, they are all enjoying each other's company at these times of the day.

Bakugou and Sato end up forming a light friendship, they don't talk much but share interactions related to cooking frequently.

We can't forget that Bakugou's parents work with fashion, he inevitably ended up becoming a stylish person himself without noticing. He kinda have a streetwear aesthetic, a bit gotic sometimes. Kiri however likes clothes more colorful, he is a summer boy but also has his streetwear side.

Bakugou is gay, just it, simple as can be. He is demiromantic tho. Kiri is pan/bi.

They private times aren't just penetration, they like touch, intimacy, likes kisses and just rubbing up against each other or giving a helping hand. (I feel kind of weird having thought about this but it seems like I need to highlight my thoughts in this simplistic perverted world).

Abt positions, bakugou usually is topping - not because of any strange straight gender role u might think- he just find more joy on giving pleasure for his partner, and Kirishima is always more willing to receive this adoration ( he might feel powerful for holding confidence in having this relationship with bakugou ).

Kirishima is the big spoon. He always has bakugou grapping his waist and melting into his arms as he sleep peacefully against his chest, at least this is how they start the night, bc when they wake up bakugou has Kiri sprawled out, half-thrown on top of his chest, with his face aligned in the crook of his neck, and somehow Bakugou's arm is now the boy's pillow.

Bakugou is an introvert with limited social battery so is common to see he just chilling out on the couch with jiro, each one on the phone and listening music. Sero sometimes sit with them to just vibe.

Kiri despite having the bakusquad is usually seemed hanging out with momo, asui and SHINSO. Yes, our boy gotcha friendship with him! (someday I'II dissect my thoughts and understand why I want them all to be a small group). He and momo are extroverts dragging asui and shinso tho mostly watch their interactions, that don't mean they don't talk as much as them, they just prefer to add interesting and spicy comments or facts.

Kaminari jokes on being their third wheel, he is right.

Ashido helps kiri on insecure moments, encouraging him on his relationship. She is almost the mom friend, almost.

Bakugou likes chemical. Kirishima likes biology.

Bakugo's dad and kirishima go fishing sometimes. They both are terribly distracted by any conversation.

Bakugou's mom is flustered every time kiri is eating her food bc he always is praising her cooking skills. it's usually her husband who gets all the praise because she herself recognizes that his food is amazing, so he is the one who cooks usualy on the house, but she assures to be the chef when kiri is coming.

Beginning with: kiri has two moms bc this headcanon just makes sense. The two managed to win over Bakugou with their kindness and strong morals, he is extremely more restrained around them.

How and who confessed? It will be extensive.

They are partners even before being in a romantic relationship, so it was on one day that bakugou finds out how good is to them being in such a synchrony, imagine how much more easy it would be if they were more... them BOOM! Existential crisis with a sexuality crisis that lasts two minutes for him to come to a consensus that he doesn't care about falling in love with a boy, but rather wants to have a relationship with anyone. He struggles for a week and ends up agreeing that yes, he wants to stay by shitty hair's side, so he will take it as he has been taking it, just existing. If in any parallel universe Kirishima asked him to go out with him, Bakugou could take that opportunity, but he was fine with how things were. And then he wasn't. The class had just discovered that Present Mic and Professor Aizawa were a thing and everyone was excitedly talking about how good it was to have someone to lean on and share things with in the world of pro heroes. Kirishima, mina and uraraka were talking about how much they admired their relationship, and Kirishima lets slip that it's even a little envious of them by having the courage to get deeply involved with someone. He jokingly says something like "Bakugou, can you believe it? That maybe one day someone could be my significant other like that? Being heroes and everything else we aspire to." "is to much to ask for haha." bakugou replies, "you better think of harder wishes to grant shitty hair." Mina then is like, "Don't go throwing words like this because Bakugou might take it as a challenge", uraraka adds with, "He already think its to easy." THEN some defiant and provocative instinct of bakugou is activated and all inhibitions are thrown to the air without him realizing it, "STUPID EXTRAS! being by his side is something that I am already taking first place in, it isn't even a challenge!"

Then somehow..."Would u easily turn into my boyfriend as easy as you make it seems bakugou?" - "stop saying dumb things shitty hair"- "You said it first!" - "if u wanna me to take responsability u have to take courage to ask me out" - 'but we already went out!" "..." - " WE ARE DATING" - " WE ALREADY ARE"

I know this was long and a bit confusing but I hope you enjoyed my thoughts lol

[specksizedgoddess]

LOG 000: Subject appears to take a humanoid form, aside from a pair of ram's horns on it's head and its differing size. From what we've seen on camera, it changes often- exhibiting some kind of joy out of being smaller, tending to stay around an inch, give or take.

LOG 001: Subject appears to be fully sentient (though this is still up for debate), and furthermore, appears to have full knowledge of the facility. On multiple occasions it has faced the camera to wave, or stare absentmindedly.

LOG 002: First human trial. Subject was asked politely to maintain a human size throughout the interaction- despite it's hesitation, it obliged. Subject seems to take the form of a younger trans woman, measuring roughly 5'7 in height, and wore a simple outfit. The researcher sent in was confirmed to be unharmed, but they did mention a mild headache when leaving the room. Medical scans showed nothing wrong with the patient, and they were sent on their way.

LOG 003: Subject asked to be reffered to as "Eve"- it also (somewhat shyly) asked for another visit- it seems to enjoy the company of others. The previous researcher hastilly agreed, and was allowed to interact with it while it was small. Eve had an increased heartrate for the duration of the experiment. She seems... strangely content here. Besides her (limited) size shifting abilities, it's highly doubted that she's anything dangerous.

LOG 004: Our prime researcher entered without permission, and was restrained. Their eyes now display a strange pink tint to them, but nothing was found in another brain scan- however, they were strangely adamant to get out of the examinations as soon as possible.

LOG 005: Eve is shown to have multiple aphrodisiac qualities, ones that she can't seem to control. In her own words, they simply "make them as obsessed as I am". The safe label we had used earlier is being recinded and the lead researcher is in confinement for the time being.

LOG 006: Chaos has broken out, with the researcher clawing to get to Eve. Their hands were bloodied and worn as they broke into her containment- and simply held her in their now red-stained hands. Many audio files have been corrupted from the interaction, but some has been salvaged- and the results are... strange, to say the least. The researcher seems to be murmuring various degrading words, insulting and humiliating- and supposably even reffered to themselves as "her deity". The researcher was caught and dragged away- and a staff member stepped in to comfort Eve. Their words were sweet, calming, and informed her that she was worth more than that- that she was a person that deserved respect.

The video footage cut out from that point onward, but when it resumes, the staff member simply dissapeared.

Eve is still under further testing- and has apologized multiple times for the commotion. She has promised not to make any form of escape, stating that "she likes it here".

The effects of the aphrodisiac faded, though the researcher often requests sessions with Eve. These sessions are allowed, but heavily monitored- and any symptoms of this chemical at work are being monitered.

A discarded finger of the staff member was found on the premesis (the left index finger, to be exact). However, it was not located anywhere near Eve's containment.

Researchers do not need heavy equipment when entering- and it is heavily advised you treat her as sub-human. Many researchers actually use her as a source of entertainment- and find her aphrodisiacs relaxing, if a bit addicting.

END LOG