#i used to hate the hammer until i got good with it

[ask-theredcrown]

hai... weapon of choice?

"The scythe, and eventually the hammer. The both of them must be handled with precision, powerful in the right hands."

[mywritersmind]

DRAGGED AND DRIPPING - KA12

summary : Prankster Kimi is bored and stuck inside as the rain in Brazil hammers down. A mischievous move lands him in the rain with a very pretty screaming girl over his shoulder.

listen up : no warnings!! wrote this while waiting for quali (idek if it’s happening still but hiii)

word count : 880

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The rain pounds on the roof of the Mercedes hospitality, the announcement that Qualifying is delayed on my phone and the grinning face of Kimi Antonelli in front of me.

“Can I at least eat my cake before you go prank people?” He sighs dramatically, slumping back in his chair across from me and looking around the dining area.

“You’re a horrible replacement for Ollie.” He mumbles under his breath.

I scoff, licking my fork and rolling my eyes, “I’m so sorry that your best friend is too busy with his job!” I say sarcastically, “But I will not be partaking in your childish games.”

He’s leant back in his chair when I feel my own seat getting pulled closer, his foot hooked on the leg of my seat. He's got a mischievous smirk on his tanned face, his ring clinking against the table as he taps his finger on it.

“Please?” He knows exactly what he’s doing. And I'm completely falling for it. Kimi and the rain do not go together for the singular reason that he hates being stuck inside.

However, give me a good book and some hot chocolate, and I'll stay by the foggy window all day. “Y/n!” Kimi whines again, standing up and leaning against the table so he’s closer to me now.

“No.” I groan and keep scrolling on my phone, looking away from his arm that is bracing himself on the small table.

“Fine.” He sighs and just when I think he’s about to leave me alone, he snatches my mercedes hat right off my head, and runs.

“Antonelli! You thief!” I stand immediately, running after him as he giggles and starts down the stairs. I almost fall but grip onto the railing just as I see him trip but land on his feet at the bottom, “How are you so uncoordinated as an athlete!?” I yell and turn to the corner.

He glances back, shooting me an offended look before flipping me off and pulling my hat onto his head, over his own hat.

I roll my eyes and keep going, already out of breath. I pass Ollie who looks at me weirdly, “This is your fault!” I scream before setting my eyes on Kimi again.

I chase the boy down until I have to slow my pace because he slips behind the Mercedes garage door. “Pussy.” I mumble quietly, opening the door and stepping inside.

I think I've gone the wrong way until I feel my hat slapped back on my head and his hands on my waist, “Ah!” I scream just as I feel myself get lifted upside down and over his shoulder.

The garage is laughing as I yell at Kimi, “Antonelli I swear-” I try and maneuver myself so I’m facing where he’s walking but his hands are tightly keeping me in place. When I finally get a glimpse of where he’s going, I realize my impending doom is coming faster than I realized.

My hat has fallen off and when I kick Kimi he just scoffs, “You really wanna fight me right now?” I glance back up to the pouring rain.

“Yes!” But when he walks out of the cover, cool water hits us, “I hate you!” He’s laughing still, shaking his head and jumping around.

He finally sets me down but when I go to run away, he’s grabbing me again and pulling me against him. I can see the Mercedes workers videoing and whistling, the crowd on the other side surely can see us too.

But Kimi still leans in, whispering in my ear as his wet curls smack against my neck, “How much you think they’d scream for us if I kissed you?” I can’t help but laugh at my Italian idiot.

He’s laughing too now, holding me up so my knees go to my chest and my head leans against his shoulder, “Put me down, Antonelli!”

“What’s the magic word, Tesoro?” I elbow him which causes his voice to crack and his grip to loosen.

I push my hair out of my face, wet and stringy all because of the boy who’s smirking at me, “You’re a dick!”

He just grins, his breath labored and his clothes dripping, “Sei bellissima.” You are beautiful. I don’t know italian. But I know that. He says it to me all the time.

I shake my head, biting back a smile as the rain pours down on us. I walk closer, suddenly not in a rush to get out of the harsh weather.

“Prankster.” my tone is softer now.

He smiles jokingly saying, “I love when you talk dirty to me.” He slips his hand in mine as I narrow my eyes at him, his smile turning into a frown, “You’re shivering.”

I gape at him, “No Shit. I was dragged into the rain in my cute dress and curled hair by my childish boyfriend who won’t stop laughing at me!”

He brings my hand to his lips, kissing it. “Come on, I'll get you hot chocolate.” A smile finally meets my lips as he lets me hop onto his back. His hands are warm against my wet skin, gripping my legs as my arms slip around his neck.

[yanderemommabean]

Hey Momma!

I like butterflies, ya got any Yandere Alien Butterfly scenario for me? Or everyone? Cause I'm sure we'd like a nice Yandere Alien Butterfly~ 🦋

“P-Please! Please you have to-Ahh!” You sob, wincing and jerking as more of their invasive fingers inspect your body. It wasn’t a sob of pain either, oh anything but. You’ve been handed over for these insect aliens to inspect as a sort of treaty and well, they’re being /very/ thorough with you. 

Their wings flutter here and there as they murmur and whisper to one another, you assume to speak about notes and what they’ve learned but you can’t help but notice the clipboards and tablets have been set aside for over an hour now, and they simply haven’t bothered to test anything more than your limits on pleasure. 

Weren’t you supposed to be tested on with other items too? Wasn’t this more or less a death sentence from your oh so cowardly government? 

“They react nicely when you press right here-” The one on the left states a bit louder, something you can actually comprehend, but you’re focus is cut off as they demonstrate what they mean-curling their fingers inside you just right and making your body pulse with pleasure once again, your eyes watering as they begin to more or less abuse that spot and make your muscles tense and shake. 

You can’t even catch your breath as the one on the right nods their head, but moves to grab something off of the table beside them. “Yes but do you think their anatomy could handle someone of our size? I think this mating tool is about as large as one of us, shall we try it?” 

Oh god you can’t even bring yourself to look up. You try to catch your breath while you can, laying back on the cold table bringing you back to your senses even if just slightly. You aren’t sure you want to know just how big that toy could be, your mind would simply break. 

“Oh not to worry! They’re quite resilient creatures! But we do have to be careful, I like this one” one says, amused as they grab the item and flick the switch. “We have to be slow, humans can handle sizes better when relaxed and sedated. Our little specimen here should be able to take at least half before we run into any issues”. 

Your walls flutter and pulse once again, and you hate your body for being so eager to start after finally catching your breath. It’s as if your instincts are trying to tell you to just lay back and give in, and really, you can’t fight that urge much longer. That buzzing sound only makes your legs want to squeeze together tighter, but not out of fear this time. 

Oh you’re slowly becoming a mindless toy yourself aren’t you?  

When the head of that large toy enters you, your breath catches and it can’t be helped when you arch up and brokenly cry, that stretch seemingly both painful and blissful. That vibration was only making your fingers and toes curl as the two aliens watched with rapt attention, slowly pressing the toy in deeper and deeper, listening to your feeble noises and adorable moans almost nonchalantly. 

If it wasn’t for the heady scent in the air and the fact you could see their own members sliding out in arousal, you’d think they were genuinely bored with experimenting with you. You catch a glimpse between weak twists of your body, and those dangerous eyes hold something more primal than they did when you first entered the room. 

They were doing this for more than just research, that’s for sure. You’re at their mercy until they get bored, if they even do. 

“Go ahead. Climax. We know you have more in you, we’ve studied your vitals and liquids, you aren’t dehydrated yet” the one on the right bites out, eager and needy as he leans forward to turn the toys vibrations up. “You look so good like this, human. Stuffed and needy, begging to be bred and made into the perfect mate. You must feel so neglected if you’re this sensitive to what we use” 

You can only manage a whimper, eyes rolling back as your breath catches and that thick, pulsing toy hammers inside of you. It’s no use in fighting it, you couldn’t fight the multiple other attempts either. You cave, body lurching and head lolling back as you cry out and loudly gasp for air, feeling your hole clenching down and trying to make sure that large toy doesn’t leave, milking it for all its worth as you rock your hips to ride out the fifth intense orgasm of the day. 

The two butterflies coo and croon in your ear, you think they’re praising you even but everythings so blurry and sounds like it's underwater, you can’t make any of it out. 

“Good job human, such a good job. That’s it, deep breaths…When your breathing is back to a stable condition let’s see if we can’t fit in the rest of the device. I’m sure you won’t disappoint us”.

(-Mommabean, hiya! Sorry for any typos! Anyway I hope you enjoyed, feel free to tell me what you thought!)

[meraki-sunset]

Motherfucker got rejected

I just read the entirety of The Book of Bill with my friends. We read it out loud in the darkness using a flashlight and signed all 4 of our names in it. Haven't laughed so hard in a while (and then almost cry, but that's later)

Heavily recommend it if you're a Gravity Falls fan.

Still recovering from Bill's backstory. Rambling ahead Heavy spoiler alert. He was loved, he was 12, he was the only one in his 2D universe able to see on 3D, he just wanted to show them the stars. And now he doesn't even remember what the fuck he did, only the chaos, the screams, his shaking hands covered in blood and then nothing at all, just a glitchy void in his memories and his universe being gone. And he carries the last spec of his dimension in his hat, and CONFIDED to Ford and showed it to him. And when Ford asked what killed his dimension, he froze before saying "a monster", he sees himself as that. Fuck. ALSO when giving the reader advice on how to seduce someone he said to (paraphrased) "lock them in a pyramid and sing to them until the fall for you" which is what he did to Ford, he also said to gift them rats, which he gave Ford too, the book is full of shit like that, motherfucker guided and interrupted the reader all the book but specifically never interrupted Ford's pages, and when threatening to kill him if he didn't open the portal, he gave him 3 days to do it, which ruined his plans in the end, and he said he doesn't know why he did that, but implying he did it because in some twisted way he cared, the same way he still offered him to join him during weirdmagedon even after the whole betrayal thing. And when Ford cut tied with him, he got hammered and asked the cashier, while heavily drunk, for "one sixer, please" and cried when they told them they had no idea what that was, later taking the phone from the cashier on a call with 911 to say (paraphrased because my book is in Spanish) "Hi, mom, it's billy, i want--- i'm coming back from school soon, remember to cut the crust of my sandwiches or i'm--- where did everyone go? WHERE-". His mom called him Billy, HE WAS BILLY, and since he was the Pines twins's age when he destroyed everything, he assumes he's just that age when talking to her, coming back from school. And now he's in therapy jail? And i don't get if he's totally dead or if he's a ghost, he aparently can reencarnate if he heals, but he fucking hates therapy jail, and he's getting desperate to get out, and he doesn't... look good. Can't believe i feel actually bad for the triangle. I'm- jeez, I can go on for hours. Bill Cipher having feelings (and a crush on Ford) was not on my 2024 bingo card, but i fucking love this book. God I missed that guy so much.

[dreamingofbucky]

IS IT TOO LATE?

Miguel O'Hara x Spider!F!Reader (one shot)

summary: He casted you back to your universe. But now he's back and you don't know why. you thought he hated you for the longest time. But that's furthest from the truth.

tags/content warnings: very much angst. heart strings will be pulled at. consensual smut. p in v. love confessions. soft!miguel. fangs are used for pleasure. begging. size kink. praise, like tons of it. mig and reader healing themselves together.

Word Count: 4.2k (whoops)

author’s note: not beta read. mild midnight miguel thots. more angst though with a very happy ending. idk i was in my feelings lol

You could sense him close to you. You always did, even despite your spider senses.

It was like he’s infected himself into you even years later, unable to get him out of your system.  

You were in your kitchen, putting away some dishes when you got the feeling of him being near. It was like a prickle at your neck that grew and grew until every hair on your body rose. You whipped your head around the kitchen and narrowed your eyes to find him. You couldn’t though, he was always good at hiding himself. 

“Miguel?” Your voice drifted throughout your apartment. It fell flat though and a sigh wringed out of your throat once you realized he wasn’t there anymore. 

But then your spine stiffened to its own accord and you whipped your head this time toward the hallway. You grabbed the dish towel to dry your hands before you made your way. You weren’t on guard, but you kept the towel on your shoulder just in case. Your spider strength would probably work just fine, but you didn’t know what he’d want. 

“Miguel? I know you’re here, somewhere,” you called out again with more tenacity in your voice. 

There was a creak in the living room and you increased your pace until you were at the entrance, flicking on the light that flooded the room. He wasn’t hiding. He was in the corner, staring at a photo on top of your fireplace. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, fingers reaching for the towel on your shoulder. 

His broad shoulders slumped for a moment before he finally turned. He was in his blue and red suit, the one you knew very well. He looked better than the last time you saw him. His face though, was contorted in an expression you couldn’t read. 

“I–uh, I’m not sure why I came,” he finally mumbles. 

You take a step forward and tread lightly. It’s been four years, so you really didn’t know why he came. This was his decision anyway, to leave you and keep you at a distance. 

“It’s been years,” you remind him. He finally turns completely and his brown eyes gleam red a little and then fade back to the rich color you once loved. 

The man you once swore you loved forever, until he didn’t. Your heart tugged at the memories of what you and Miguel had. Attempting to push those thoughts away to keep yourself from spiraling like before, you clear your throat. 

He finally replies. “I had to see you.” 

No reason. Nothing else. Just those five words. 

You take another step forward and he does too.

“You can’t just come here without an explanation,” you pushed. Your irritation was starting to increase and your patience was starting to thin for your ex. 

Miguel is quiet as he stays grounded. But your senses heightened when he lifted his hand and turned his wrist toward you. Before you could react in time, a bright orangish red web shot out of his wrist and latched onto your chest. You grunt as he pulls you into him, closing the distance. You grab the string of the web and pull it off your shirt, but it's stuck. 

“Miguel,” you bite. A smile curls at his lips before a talon comes out of his pointer finger and he snips the web. 

“Sorry,” he breathes. 

“You’re here, because?” You press again. Your heart was hammering against your chest and you were hoping he’d tell you what he needed you for.

“Spider Society misses you.” 

Oh. You weren’t expecting that. 

“I’m sure they do,” you quip. 

It wasn’t your choice to leave them. To go back to your universe and live out your days. It was Miguel who pushed you to this point. 

You even got engaged two years ago to who you thought you could live the rest of your days with. And then things took a turn. Things didn’t work out. He felt like you were stunted by him in this universe. Although you still did your best to be the Spider-Woman your universe needed, it wasn’t enough. 

It was like the action of Miguel casting you out back to your universe made you lose your spark. Made you less of who you were meant to be. 

You hate him for it. Well, you did the first year before you started to make a life for yourself here. It didn’t work out, obviously. 

The thing was, you never really understood why Miguel did what he did. It was so quick, so sudden, casting you out. You thought you were doing well in Spider Society. You made friends, you aced missions. So what did you do wrong? You even loved him to your best ability. 

Was it because you couldn’t put universes first before anyone else in your life? Miguel was so bent up on the idea that sacrifices had to be made when it came to being Spider-Man. Guess that included you. 

You were a sacrifice he had to make for a reason you still didn’t know. 

“Just wanted to check in, see how you were,” he says in an almost whisper. He drops his gaze to your lips and you gulp. No, you couldn’t feel like this for him. Not anymore. 

You lift your hand and press your palm to his chest. He looks at it before his brows furrow. His hand then reaches over and caresses yours. His fingers fiddle with your ring finger. 

“Your ring, what happened? Where is it?” 

You sigh, attempting to turn on your heel and get away from him but his fingers move to your wrist to keep you there. You knew he’d know about you getting engaged. You got your spider senses alerted whenever he was near the first two years you were gone. You knew he was checking up on you frequently. Until he stopped. He didn’t know the engagement was broken off and you lived alone in that small apartment. 

“Miguel, let me go.”

He doesn’t budge, so you press your other palm against his chest for leverage but he doesn’t move an inch. Your emotions are getting heightened from it all and you can feel tears start to spring into your eyes. You feel pathetic. 

“What happened?” He repeats, his eyes turning soft and curious. 

“Nothing happened. You happy?” 

“No–” he shakes his head. “Tell me.” 

You sigh, not wanting to fight with him. You had years of it when he started becoming too focused on stopping Spider people from disrupting their canon events. Those fights ended up pushing you both to a point that couldn’t be turned back around. 

“Miguel, I’m not in the mood. I’ve had a long day. It’s late.” 

“Dime qué pasó,” he almost pleads. 

Well, if it made him let you go then you had no other choice. You took a deep breath and stared at him. You needed him to know what he did and how it resulted with you no longer having an engagement ring. 

“He left me, Miguel. Does that make you happy? He saw how much I couldn’t handle being so far away from my people. From my friends. From you. He saw how it ruined my life being stuck here. I tried so hard to fake it until I was happy, but he saw through it all. He loved me so much that he let me go. Unlike someone who casted me out–” 

“I didn’t cast you out because I didn't love you,” he interrupts with a growl. His face leans closer and your core flutters. 

Fuck, your body could still react to him like no time has passed. 

“We were young,” you argue. “That wasn’t love, the longer I had time apart to contemplate it. We were simply infatuated, but that wasn’t love.” 

“It was for me, sabes esto.” 

“No, it wasn’t Miguel,” you bite. 

Miguel is silent, dropping his hand. You take a step back, a deep breath leaving your lips. His own shoulders move softly with his breathing. Some of the strands of hair at the top of his head fall over his temple and forehead. You want to so desperately lift a hand and brush them back in place. But that's not something you can do anymore. 

You take another step back, finding yourself sitting on your couch. You placed your elbows on your knees and took a deep breath. You heard his footsteps follow and he knelt down, placing a finger under your chin and lifted you enough to see him. To look at his eyes that are yearning for you to speak to him. 

“Mira, I lied. They didn’t miss you. I did. I stopped checking in on you to give you space. To move on.” 

You scoff. “You can see how well that worked out.” You lift your naked ring finger to make a point. 

“I needed to see you one last time.” 

This brought you to straighten your spine and look at him with widened eyes. “Last time?” 

He nods. 

“What do you mean, Miguel?” 

He’s silent for a moment. “I’m not going to check in on you ever again. You won’t be bothered by me. I’m taking some space from Spider Society as well. They’re better off anyway.” 

Your heart skipped a beat at the revelation. He was going to demote himself from the society he created for us? One of the best places you’ve been able to call home for years. You missed it dearly, you couldn’t deny that. 

“You can’t just leave them. They need you.” 

Miguel’s eyes cast down and this time it’s you bringing a hand under his chin and lifting enough for him to look at you. You scoot a little closer to him where your knees brush. A fire burns in your belly. 

“They don’t. I hurt people. I hurt you. I need space and time before I can come back and delegate again. I took things too far.” 

“So you’d rather disappear than try to fix things? Did you ever plan to allow me back to Spider Society?” 

He shakes his head. “I thought you’d be content here with him. You seemed so happy.” 

You laugh. “That wasn’t happy, Miguel. That was coping.”

His thick brows furrow. “No, you were happy.” 

“Are you trying to convince yourself? Are you really trying to control the truth? I wasn’t happy. I thought I could play along with this life to deal with everything. I was in survival mode. It was purely a facade. Imagine being introduced to a safe haven and then being stripped of all access to it and its people. That’s what happened to me. I had no choice but to try to make a life for myself here.” 

Miguel is quiet for a moment, pressing his lips into a thin line. His forehead wrinkles as he thinks deeply. 

“This would be easier if I hated you.” He finally mutters. 

Now you’re the one raising a brow. “Excuse me?” 

“Call this an atonement,” he says. “I shouldn’t have done that to you, but I’m not sure bringing you back would fix things. What happened can’t be undone.” 

“I never asked for you to fix it. I’ve learned how to make this my home. It was a home before I got my Spider abilities and it could be my home after.” 

“But you’re not happy. You just said so yourself,” he counters.

You huff out a breath, exhausted at all of this back and forth. Why was he really here? If he wanted to see you one last time he could’ve done that without making himself known. He could’ve creeped in the shadows to do it. 

“What do you want?” The words are sharp and roll off your tongue like venom. His hands raise and rest on your knees. He’s still kneeling and he scoots closer. A hand travels up your thigh and you suck in a breath. 

“One last time,” he repeats so softly you almost miss it. 

“We already had our one last time,” you say quietly. You remember that last time you felt him near you. That was when you truly thought that was the last time you’d feel him in your universe. 

“No, bebita,” he responds gruffly. “I need you one last time.” 

His words aren’t registering in your brain. 

“You made it very clear you didn’t need me.” 

“Will you let me finish?” His eyes connect with yours and your heart thumps loudly against your chest. 

“Finish then,” you push. 

“It’s easier to hate you because then I could move on. I never did, bebita.” The nickname rolls off his tongue in a way that makes your core flutter and you clench your thighs. 

“I–” you start, but he cuts you off. 

“Casting you out was the worst thing I did. I couldn’t take it back, my pride wouldn’t let me. I loved you so much, but I couldn’t say it. It was always on the tip of my tongue. You were it for me, bebita. It crushed me even more to see you making a life for yourself here. Finding a partner to be with, that was the worst of it. It took me months to deal with that one. But I couldn’t risk losing you to the things we did for the universes we saved. Pushing you away was the hardest thing to do, but the safest. If I didn’t have you to sacrifice in life or death situations, then that's what I had to do. I couldn’t lose you in those ways, I just couldn’t.” 

His confession brings tears to your eyes and you wrap your hands around his neck. You lean in, pressing your forehead against his. You take a deep breath and he does too. Soon, your breathing becomes sync with his. 

“You hurt me,” was all you could say. 

“I know, bebita, I know. I’m so sorry. I loved you–I love you so much. It felt like the only way I wouldn’t lose you.” 

“But you ended up losing me anyway in the process,” you remind him. He nods. 

“I lost you anyway. Please forgive me. Or did I come at the wrong time where that’s not possible? Is it too late?” 

You contemplate it for a moment. You hurt for so long with his decision, but now you know why. He did it because he loved you so much. It reminded you of your ex-fiance. He broke things off because he loved you and wanted you to find your true happiness. He knew it wasn’t with him as much as he wanted it to be. 

Funny how it’s the same concept with Miguel, but not quite. Miguel’s way was harsher and broke you. But he’s here now apologizing and on his knees. 

All the feelings of your life with Miguel come back surfacing. The good and the bad. But he was the best thing in your life. 

“And what would we do after this? Would you just leave and never see me again? After everything that’s been said?” 

He grabs your cheeks and pushes you back a little. His face is pained as he thinks of a response. He leans in, kissing your forehead before kissing your nose and then your cheeks. “I don’t know anymore. Lyla asked me the same thing.” 

You smiled softly. “Lyla… I missed her.” 

Miguel smiled as well, tears in his eyes. “She misses you everyday. She might be the reason why I came tonight.”

“I’m glad, then,” you say. This brings another smile to his face and your heart warms. Your whole body warms. 

“Miguel,” you whisper. He leans in again, pressing his lips to your nose. You inhale his scent for a moment. 

“I can’t repair what’s been done.” 

“You can’t,” you concede. “But we can take it day by day.” 

“Really?” He says with a little happier tone. 

You nod. “But you can’t do that again. Don’t push me away. Don’t make me think you hate me. That I was the worst thing in your life.” 

A sob pulls through you and tears cascade down your cheeks. Miguel is quick to brush them away with his thumbs. He finally brushes his lips against yours and you stiffen at the movement. 

“Can I?” He asks softly. 

Instead of answering, you lean in to close the distance. His lips were soft and the memories of kissing him all over filled your senses. Your body still craved him, you just pushed those feelings as down as you could. 

He continues to kiss with passion, like a man starved. His tongue presses against your teeth and you part your mouth, allowing him inside. He groans a little at the feeling and a moan escapes your own lips. 

“Let me make it up to you, por favor,” he asks, moving his hands to your thighs and running them up until they find your hips. You hitch your breath at the feeling and you nod. 

“It won’t make up for all these years, but you can try,” you say with a little spite and a little tease. Something in you wanted him to work for it. You couldn’t just forgive this easily, he had to know how much you hurt all this time. 

“I’ll live the rest of my days making it up to you then, bebita,” he kisses you once more before moving his hands from your hips to your backside. He pulls you hard closer to him before you’re straddling your hips. You squeal from the sudden movement and then he rises. He starts to walk as you continue to kiss, as if he mesmerized the layout of your apartment from his check-ins. This brought another flutter to your core and you needed him in more ways than one. 

He enters your bedroom and plops you on the bed softly. You shift yourself up to the pillows and he climbs the bed alongside you. Your hands come up to his hair, making their home in his strands as he continues to attack you with kisses. He moves his lips to your neck and you moan loudly, bucking your hips up. He groans from the sounds. 

“Bite me,” you plead through breaths. 

“Estás seguro?” he asks, lifting his lips from your neck for a brief second. You push his head back down to your bare skin and nod. 

“Yes, please, Mig. Bite me like you used to. Fuck me like you used to. Make me whole again,” you plead. You can’t help the tears that come back to your eyes and fall down your cheeks. He doesn’t notice though, which you’re grateful for. 

He obliges though, kissing your neck and then you feel something piercing you. His fangs sink into your skin and it feels wet instantly. You moan through it, leaning down to bite his own neck. 

“F-fuck,” he moans once his fangs pull out. He lifts his head to look at you and it’s like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen. His eyes light up and then turn into a feral thing you were so used to in the past. 

Miguel knew how to be gentle with you when he could, but you always noticed the way his eyes would turn red with a primal need to love you until you were thrashing and screaming his name, clenching around him. 

You needed him to go that far. You wanted him to. 

“Don’t hold back,” you whisper finally. 

His eyes search yours before he nods and snakes his hand under your hair and wraps his fingers around the strands until he can pull your neck the other way. He leans in and you feel that pain again as he sinks his fangs into the other side of your neck. Your hips buck up again and you gasp. 

“Smell so good, taste so good,” he murmurs. His lips travel lower, kissing your collarbone. He helps you out of your mundane clothes before you’re lying naked in front of him. With a press of his watch on his wrist, his suit pixelates into nothing until he’s there naked over you. You forgot for a moment his suit does that. 

“Please, Mig,” you say in deep breaths as you feel his erection pressing against your hip. You reach down blindly, feeling for his cock and then caressing it in up and down motions. He groans through this and curses under his breath, jutting his hips further into your hand. 

“Need you,” he pleads. 

“You have me,” you assure him. 

He lifts himself on his knees which causes your hands to fall from his cock. He then begins to stroke himself and you spread your legs around him. His eyes glance down at your core and your cheeks heat. 

“So fucking pretty and wet already for me, bebita. Just like I knew you’d be.” 

You just nod as you stay transfixed on him, rubbing his cock before he positioned himself at your entrance. You didn’t care for him to prep you, you needed him now. 

“It’s going to hurt, tell me to stop if you–” 

“I don’t care,” you cut him off. You made a point by reaching down and grabbing his wrist around his cock and aligning yourself with his tip. You pressed his tip against your fold and you both gasped. You shut your eyes briefly at the wonderful sensation. 

He always fucked you so well, that was something you missed. And now he was here, doing just that. 

“Fuck, you’re taking me so well. Such a good fucking girl,” he grunts as he presses himself into you, inch by inch. 

The pain soared throughout your body with each inch, but you didn’t care. You finally had him again and your cunt clenched around him. He moaned at the movements, but you couldn’t help yourself. 

When he finally pressed into you all the way, you both took deep breaths. He leaned in, pressing his palms into the mattress to support himself. He shifted a little, moving inside you and you whined. 

“So big,” you gasped. 

“You can take it, bebita,” he cooed. “You always did so good for me, you can do it again. Okay?” 

You nod, biting your lip as he moved his hips to slowly pull out of you and then he slammed back in, causing you to shift up on the bed from his strength. He curses under his breath again and you whine at the stretch of him. His girth was bigger than you remembered and you swore he was splitting you in half, but you loved it. 

“More, more,” you begged and he obliged. He snapped his hips back and forth into you, earning a cry from your lips at each thrust. 

“So pretty when you cry for me,” he groans as his hips start to grow sloppy. He was getting closer to his release and you were too. 

Your core tightened and your pussy clenched around his cock in a beautiful way. 

“So close,” you mumbled through his thrust. 

“Come with me, bebita,” he says before leaning down, sinking his fangs into your neck once more. This makes all your sensations come alive and you can’t hold back anymore. Your legs wrap around his waist, causing him to push deeper into you and hitting the best parts. 

“I’m going to–” you screamed before you felt everything explode. You saw stars, your body was shaking, and he was holding onto your tightly. He dropped his head into the crevice of your neck and muttered nonsense as he came right after you. Rope after rope of his cum filled you up and you clenched around him even more, milking his cock.

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpered as his hips stuttered and he collapsed over you. “Please don’t do that, not gonna last the night.” 

You giggled, keeping your legs wrapped around his waist. You both breathed intensely but you were so fucking happy. 

“I love you, bebita,” he finally says, lifting himself to look at you. He wipes a strand of hair that was stuck on your forehead. You grab his face and kiss him. He moans deeply and his cock twitches inside you. 

You squirm underneath him. “I love you too, Miguel. Always have, always will.”

He kisses you back with more passion. “You mean it?” 

You nod and laugh as he tickles your side. You try to squirm away, but it’s hard with his cock still in you. Your pussy flutters around him again and he groans. “Bebita, that will only make me go for another round.” 

“I know,” you confess with a smile. 

You had years of catching up to do, anyways. You didn’t plan to leave that bed anytime soon. 

Miguel smiled and wrapped his arms around you before flipping you both over. His back plopped on the bed and you were straddling him above, your head laying on his chest. 

“You don’t have to ever forgive me,” he whispers, stroking your bare back. “But I hope you give me the time to make it up to you.” 

You lift your head, resting your chin on his chest. He cranes his neck to look down at you. 

“It’s not too late,” you finally answer and those words were all he needed to hear.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Hello, hello! Congrats to the milestone! For the festivity may I wish for a fic with 1/A; 2/Canon- adjasond; 3/Hurt/Comfort and 4 is up to you. If it fits your jam, would be an outsider pov be possible? 👀

Thank you so much for the ask, I definitely gave myself some feels writing this one! I've never done a Wayne POV before, but I'm quite happy with how it turned out. 🥲

Your first warden

Words: 999

Rated: T

Tags: POV Wayne Munson; Good uncle Wayne Munson; Child neglect; Child abuse; Alcohol abuse; Drowning; Referenced parental death; Eddie had a shitty childhood; Post-Vecna; Everybody lives; Hurt Eddie Munson; Recovery; Caretaker Steve Harrington; Hurt/comfort

The first time Eddie almost died, he was two years old. 

Al had insisted on bringing him along for that fishing trip. A proper men's day out, he'd said. Of course Al’s idea of a proper men's day out was hitting the booze the second they arrived. By the time Wayne heard him snore, little Ed had already wandered off. 

He found him floating face down between the reeds a few yards away. The water lillies and the pretty lights rippling on the surface must've drawn him in. Wayne thinks he lost five years of his life in the seconds between pulling him out and the kid's first coughs filling the air.

“‘s okay, kiddo,” Wayne murmured as he rocked the both of them, tears and lake water drenching his flannel. “‘s okay. I gotcha.”

The ruckus drew Al, of course. He took one look at them and yanked Eddie away by the arm, slapping him hard across the face. 

“Quit howling, it's your own damn fault for going in the water. And you,” his eyes found Wayne's and his face twisted into something ugly. “Who d'ya think you are, his fucking guard dog? Keep your nose outta things that don't concern ya.” 

And maybe it was because Wayne never liked being told what to do, least of all by his drunk, deadbeat brother - but he promised himself something on that day. 

For as long as Eddie would need him, he'd watch over him. 

He'd often think back on that promise over the years. Teaching Eddie to ride a bike. Letting him sob into his shoulder at his mom's funeral, daring Al to say something about being a man one glare at a time. Taking him in when he showed up on his doorstep, bruised and beaten, hair shorn so short his scalp was bleeding in places. 

Wayne never regretted his decision, and he never broke that promise. 

Until the day Eddie almost died the second time. 

*

The beemer parked by the new trailer is a sight he should be used to by now. Still, Wayne can't help but grumble as he makes his way up the porch steps. 

Don't get him wrong, he'll be forever grateful to the Harrington boy for carrying Eddie out of literal hell, but he isn't sure if this new friendship between the two will ever be anything but bizarre to him. 

Maybe it's because the Harringtons don't mingle with the likes of them, or maybe it's because the lad is the exact type of kid Eddie hates with a passion, usually. 

Maybe it's because Wayne has noticed the way Eddie looks at the boy. He's always had a way of getting in too deep, Eddie has. Drawn to pretty flowers and rippling lights that'll slip through his fingers when grasps at them, luring him in until it's too late. 

The first thing he hears when he steps inside is a thud, followed by a wince. He's just taken the first step when Harrington barrels out of the kitchen and into Eddie’s room, completely unaware of Wayne standing in the door. 

“Eddie? What are you doing?” 

“Nothing,” comes Eddie’s reply, and Wayne knows that tone. The just-got-caught-doing-forbidden-shit one. “Just trying to put up this fucking thing.” 

Toeing off his boots, Wayne hovers closer to the half-open door. A look inside reveals Eddie, sitting on the bed with a sheepish grin on his face and that giant banner he made for his band beside him. Harrington, back turned to the door, huffs and picks up the hammer lying on the ground. 

“You’re supposed to be resting,” he scolds, climbing onto the bed and gesturing for Eddie to hand him the banner. A few swift movements and knocks of the hammer later, it’s hanging. “You could’ve opened a wound. Again. What do I need to do to make you stay in bed, tie you up?” 

Eddie grins toothily. “Okay, one: I am in bed, technically. And two: oooh, kinky.” 

Wayne groans soundlessly. Harrington rakes a hand down his face, plopping down cross-legged on the mattress. 

“Eddie.” 

Their knees bump together. Now that he has turned and he can see him in half-profile, Wayne recognizes the concern on Harrington’s face. Eddie’s grin shifts into something softer. 

“I know,” he says, watching his hand fiddle with a loose thread on his pajama pants. “It’s just … It’s annoying, not being able to do anything on my own. Being such a goddamn burden all the time. To Wayne, to the kids. To you.” 

“Hey.” Harrington’s hand settles on top of Eddie’s. “You're not a burden. We're all glad you're here. I'm glad. You know that, right? 

Eddie flips his hand, tangling their fingers together, and Harrington doesn't pull away. 

“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs. “I know.” 

Harrington smiles, reaching up to cup Eddie’s face with his free hand. 

“You just wait,” he winks. “You'll be back to walking on tables in no time. And in the meantime …” 

Eddie melts into the touch, lashes brushing the other boy's palm as his eyes flutter shut. 

“In the meantime, you got me.” 

“I gotcha,” Harrington confirms, and leans in. 

Wayne is just about to sneak away when the kettle whistles in the kitchen. The boys turn … and then they all just sort of freeze.

“Hiya, boys,” Wayne rumbles when they're still silently gaping at him a few seconds later. 

“Mr. Munson,” Harrington croaks. “I mean … sir. I mean … hi?” 

“Wayne?” Eddie blurts. “H-how long have you been standing there?” 

Wayne considers that question while both boys continue to stare at him with matching scarlet blushes coloring their cheeks. Their hands are still lying entwined on the mattress between them. 

“Long enough, I reckon,” is what he finally says. “I'll take care of the kettle, Steve. You lads stay put.” 

And with that, he closes the door on their confused faces and makes his way into the kitchen. It's been a long day, and he's looking forward to resting his feet. 

More celebration ficlets

[love-is-patient]

I have religious trauma.

I was raised in a household where my dad wanted to be God, and so characterized Him in a way that left me constantly paranoid.

God was a judge, God was a debt collector, God was a hammer waiting to strike.

My mother was likewise delusional to a point. She used religion as a manner of control, manipulating my egotistical dad and our chaotic little world so she could feel better about herself.

I was abused in the church. I’ve been so many churches since childhood I can’t count them.

I was told I was possessed because I was a child with adhd and couldn’t sit still in a pew. I was told that if I didn’t see visions or speak in tongues, I wasn’t saved. I was told that I must be thinking about God at all times or I wasn’t good enough. That I was lukewarm, unlovable, unworthy.

I was too afraid to take communion. I cried and turned away from the altar multiple times because I was a too dirty to touch the offering.

I was told so many awful things that I grew up with a persistent religious paranoia on top of my already anxiety inducing life.

So… why am I still a Christian, after all of that?

Stockholm syndrome, right?

It would be easy to write it off as that, but I did turn away from religion. In the back of my mind. I stayed cautious in case God was still watching.

It wasn’t until I got rid of the destructive influences in my life that things changed.

My perception of God changed when I left the awful people using His name in vain- or for personal gain.

When I grew up, learned to be discerning about the character of people.

Many people live under the assumption that I did- that God is a tyrant who is waiting for you to mess up so he can smash you and send you to hell. Paradoxically, that almost makes Satan sound preferable.

But that’s not who God is, and he doesn’t want people to go to hell.

Even if you haven’t had good parents, you’ve seen what they’re like. They get excited to share experiences with their children. The first taste of lemon, the first puddles to splash in. First words, first laughs, first steps.

God wanted that for us.

Satan got jealous after his rebellion in heaven. He saw God had something good and wanted it for himself again - even if it was just to spite God.

He offered humanity a choice and we took it.

We can debate why it happened until we’re blue in the face, but what matters most are God’s decisions afterwards.

Everything that has happened since the fall has been God trying to bring his wayward children back without force.

Just like when you see that friend of yours making the same bad decisions day after day, and you know their quality of life would improve if they just stopped. It’s heartbreaking, frustrating. You can give them all the advice in the world but they’ll just keep on doing the thing and complain to you about every headache afterwards.

Now you know a little what God feels like.

Only God is a little more patient than we tend to be.

God doesn’t ask much from us, not as much as people, which is weird to think about.

God doesn’t measure your worth by how good you are at your job, how badly you do in school. He doesn’t equate your value to how rich or poor you are, he doesn’t judge you the same way people do.

The first thing he asks of you is to love him and love each other.

He loves us so much that he opened heaven again if we ask for it.

He came down as flesh and blood in Jesus and took all the punishments we should’ve had. In Jesus death and resurrection, we have a way home.

All he wants for us to do is acknowledge that.

He doesn’t hate you if you can’t pay tithe. He doesn’t talk behind your back if you make a mistake. He doesn’t demean, debase, abuse.

Why am I still a Christian?

Because God was there for me when people weren’t.

God didn’t abuse me as a kid, people did, and used God as a shield.

God didn’t lie to me, call me names, break my things - my parents did.

God didn’t order me to do unbelievable things in order to reach him - my pastors and teachers did.

God didn’t tell me I’m unworthy - people did.

Even if you don’t believe in God, if you’re angry at him, feeling hurt and betrayed.

Maybe take a closer look and see if it’s really the people around you making you miserable, instead of an untouchable, invisible hammer.

[pavosnoctua]

cw: yandere, dark themes, obsessive behaviors, forced marriage, possessive behaviors, controlling behaviors, implied isolation, implied non-con touching, implied forced starvation. afab reader. mdni, minors dni! i do not condone the behaviors in this fic.

my first time writing a yandere fic. please lmk if i am missing a tag or warning!

You don't know why but Diluc one day tells you that he is giving a few more freedoms - slightly begrudgingly but you won't be alone outside. The winery is well staffed, Adelinde will be nearby so be good.

(Maybe Adelinde felt a twinge of sympathy for you, hearing you cry every night when Diluc would get too rough with you. You delude yourself into thinking this)

Be good is what you repeat to yourself as you step outside into the sunlight since he brought you here - it feels like ages ago, unreal to you, with the way the warmth of the sun hits your skin and you have to initially squint at the brightness. The Manor is so dark in comparison - it's windows always covered and the lighting so dim.

Adelinde watches you with the same hawkish look Diluc does, and you're not sure who you'd rather have following you like an unwanted storm cloud.

So, you meander around the property within the limits given to you. You soak up the sun, take in all the smells - everything you've missed for the last six months. All that can be taken away on a whim.

You're smart - you like to believe you're smart but you find a path that hasn't been used and Adelinde is currently distracted because of Hillie and Moco, you consider. One foot in front of the other.

Liyue is only a half a days walk from here.

Just follow this path while everyone is distracted - your heart hammers in your chest as you stand, frozen.

"Is everything okay?" Diluc startles you, you quickly turn to face him and look down, hoping that act appeases him. "Are you ill? Let's get you back inside-"

"No!" You shout, jerking away. He looks unimpressed and you clear your throat. "I mean, no, I'm fine. Just...spaced out."

Diluc makes a noise and you wish he'd go away so you could plan your path of escape.

"Come. Let's eat outside today for lunch." It's an order. You obey, glancing back at the path longingly - hoping it'll still be there in a few days if you are allowed back outside again.

Mercy comes through the sake of the woman who serves as Diluc's eyes. You are allowed outside on a weekly basis, you've been good and sweet and obedient. You sleep with Diluc, kiss him without crying - go along with his whims and delusions.

And one day, when the staff is too busy to watch you, you slip away. The path is overgrown and unseen. You step forward.

And again.

Further into the forgotten bushes and trees until you come to a clearing. The Winery is still in view and the path is vaguely there.

Liyue is a half a days walk, you tell yourself - looking at the shitty shoes you're wearing. The delicate clothes.

And as you turn and walk, vaguely remembering the map - a hand grabs you and jerks you back. Red, hot. You scream.

You swear at him, tell him how much you hate him as he looks at you with hurt and betrayal. He yells orders for that area to be blocked off, says doors are to be locked down as he drags you back because you won't walk for him. You claw at him and more words tumble out. Adelinde simply watches.

"You got greedy." Diluc snaps as he shoves you into your shared room. You cannot cause a scene anymore - watching his Vision glow with his growing emotions. You do not wish to deal with burns on top of the scrapes and bruises you just got. And whatever punishment he'll inflict on you now. "I never should have agreed to let you go outside. I could have lost you!"

"That's the point." you mutter. His eyes burn.

"What?"

You cross your arms over your chest and look at him in the eyes. "I said what I said."

Diluc is quiet for a moment - as if thinking. Finally, he turns to Adelinde, who only looks at you with pity and disappointment.

"They are to not receive a meal for the next two days. No one but me is to see them."

"Yes, sir."

"I'm doing this because I care about you." Diluc tells you but you only just stare at him. He considers many things in that moment but chooses to leave instead, door half slamming behind him.

You don't wince anymore.

"You should have been grateful for what you were given," Adelinde tells you as she goes to work to make your bed, pick out different clothes. "Do you understand that I had to convince him to allow you such a freedom?"

"I'm sorry." you say, automatically. She does not answer, opting to leave you alone with nothing more to say.

[miniwheat77]

Mean!141 + König.

I read this blurb of König being mean to reader while fucking her and now I’m running with it.

!CW! NSFW, Smut, slight dark themes, overstimulation, spanking, cockwarming, blackmail, cnc, non-con, coercion, oral sex, unprotected p in v sex, sorry if I missed any

König:

“So pathetic.” He breathes. His hips are hammering into yours, the edge of the desk is digging into your hips and you’re crying. He’s stretching your pussy out, the sheer size of him was too much, he smirked when he seen your eyes widen at seeing him, and now. Body lurching forward with every hard thrust he takes into you, allowing you to cry out. He doesn’t care who hears. He doesn’t care who comes in and sees you split on his cock. Crying for him. He’s got both of your hands behind your back. Holding them there with one hand. The other abusing you in other ways. Pinching your nipples, rubbing your sensitive nub, slapping your ass. Anything to hear you crying for him. He takes a tight grip on both of your wrists, holding you tightly as he fucks into you. “You won’t disobey me again.” He growls. “Say it- erbärmliche Heulsuse.” His hand clapping against your ass has you crying out again. “I won’t disobey you again König!” You cry. “Wrong.” He growls. You lurch forward at his abuse, hand slapping your ass again. “I won’t disobey you a-again Colonel König- I won’t!” You cry.

He grasps a handful of your hair, pulling you back into him. “Now cum.” He growls. His warm breath against your ear. So you do, with a cry, leaking around his cock. Fluids mixing with his. He cums with an animalistic growl. Filling you to the hilt with his cum. When his thrust finally halt, he holds you still, cock still buried deep inside of you. He loves cockwarming, and you’ll obey him. He loves the way you cry. “You’ll be back tomorrow after chores.” He growls. You nod your head. “Yes sir.” You pant. He slides out of you, a gasp leaving your lips as you feel him spilling back out of you. You know better than to move away, knowing how much he loves to watch his seed leak down your thighs. He redresses himself, standing behind you with a stern glare, arms crossed over his chest. Admiring your bare ass as you lean over the desk. His slick still wet between your thighs. “Stand up, turn around.” He growls. You do, turning to look at him. He grasps your chin, kissing you hard. It’s sloppy and he can still feel your drool from him fucking you dumb. “Get dressed, you’re excused.” You nod your head. Reaching for your clothes.

Soap:

The deep chuckle that leaves his lips sends shivers down your spine. He’s tormenting you and you hate it. “Oh come on, pouting now?” He rolls his eyes. “You need my help with the Humvee, I want something out of it.” He looks over at you. He told your Captain that he was just showing you the ropes with the Humvee, you were newer than everyone else, he was helping. That’s all. Oh how wrong your Captain was to let you go with him alone. “Soap- not like this.” You grit your teeth, tears filling your eyes. “You’re driving us back, and you’re not going to tip one thing over while doing it. Or I’ll tell Captain.” He smiles. “No!” You cry. You get so frustrated so easily. He laughs, still taunting you. He’s just being mean, making fun of you. “Than you know what I want.” He smirks. “Oh come on, you’re being such a bad girl right now. Do you want me to tell Captain Price just how bad you’ve been?” He’s reaching across the seat, hand gliding over your thigh. “Back talking me when I’m just trying to teach you, disobey me.” He clicks his tongue. You stay silent, avoiding his gaze. He starts the Humvee, and you jump. “No! Okay- I’ll do it.” You breathe, “that’s a good girl, now get in the back seat.” He smirks.

A few minutes later, he’s pounding you. He’s already made you choke on his cock, making fun of you and taunting you the entire time. Belittling you until you were sobbing, now, he’s fucking you into the window. Your face is up against it. Your hands are clutching onto the seats of the Humvee, you’re crying and drooling, pussy soaked. “Why are you crying hm? Just give into the way my cock makes you feel.” He clutches. “Please- can I ride you? You’re being too rough!” You whimper. He laughs at you, taking a few more deep thrusts into you before finally letting up, sitting in the seat and letting you climb on top of him. “You like my cock baby?” He looks up at you. Wiping your tears away for you. You nod your head, sliding down onto him and lifting your hips up. You’re holding onto the back of the seat, using it to help lift yourself up. He groans out. “Yes- you’re just too rough.” You whimper. “You’ll learn to take it rough, don’t worry.” He smirks. “You’ll learn to be my perfect little fuck toy, won’t you?” He smiles. He grasps your hips, starting to thrust up into you. You start squirming and crying. “Such a fucking crybaby.” He rolls his eyes. “You’ll take my cock however I want to give it to you, and you’re going to thank me. No more complaining.” His hand claps against your ass, making you cry out. “Thank me.” He growls. “Thank me for my cock.” He growls, thrusting up into you harder. “Thank you for your cock Johnny- thank you thank you-“ you’re chanting it, tears spilling from your eyes. “Good girl. Such a quick learner.” He smirks.

Captain Price:

Captain Price was always so mean. Even since you first joined the taskforce. His punishments were always rough. Getting sprayed with ice cold water, making the entire task force do laps for your mistakes. You walked on eggshells around Captain Price and even the entire task force knew it. One day though, that all changed. He started being nice to you, at least that’s what they thought anyways. He was nice and kind and never punished you. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them though. Because late at night. When you’re laying on your stomach and he’s fucking into you from behind, his body weight forcing you down. The first time it happened, it was the heat of the moment. You kissed him in anger, apologized profusely. He was angry with you, livid even. He was your Captain, you could get him into trouble. He didn’t realize it until you pissed him off the next time around, that this could be your new punishment. So to everyone else, he looked kind. But in private. In his room alone late at night. They had no idea.

Since you’d had a crush on him before, he caught on pretty quickly. He was already mean but in bed he was just a bully. Talking down at you until you were sobbing into his hand as he fucked into you. You did anything he told you too. Let him fuck you any way he wanted to. He’s pushing your face into the mattress with a handful of your hair, hips clapping against yours, but your sounds were muffled by the mattress. “Such a bad fucking girl-“ he groans, tilting his head back. “I know you like this. Know you like being degraded by me.” He chuckles. Your cheeks are burning but he can’t see it. “Always get so fucking wet when I’m mean to you, my dumb little crybaby.” He smirks. “Got to give you the benefit of the doubt though, even though that’s not what you want. This fucking pussy is so sweet and tight.” He growls. “How am I supposed to teach you a lesson when you love your punishment huh? You want me to stop fucking you, little crybaby?” He chuckles, lowering himself. His chest was up against your back, and he can hear your shallow breaths. You’re crying. He tugs your head back by your hair, a cry leaving your lips. “You want me to stop?” He growls. “No- no! Please-“ you gasp. “Please don’t stop fucking me Captain Price. I’ll be a good girl from now on, I promise. P-please don’t stop.” He’s smiling. You’ve done so good, maybe he’ll even let you finish. He’s got you right where he wants you. Beneath him.

Ghost:

Ghost is by far the meanest, especially when it came to you fucking up. You found that out the hard way when the two of you were alone on a mission together and you did something risky, something that could’ve gotten yourself killed. He was furious. You didn’t even get a chance to explain yourself before he was shoving you back into the brick wall behind you. He was yelling, and when you started crying, he froze up. His eyes darkened, face was stone cold. He walked away from you mid-sentence. You didn’t understand why. You were alone in the showers, and when you heard the door open you expected another girl, but it quickly set in that you were the only girl on base. When you looked up and seen him approaching you. Massive man with a skull mask on. You were intimidated. He pushes you back into the small lockers for your items and you made an attempt at covering up your naked body but he pushed your hands away. He had your face pressed up against the lockers in no time as he hammered his hips into yours, the completely lewd sounds being made should’ve been what was egging him on, but it wasn’t.

It was your cries, he loved hearing them. He hated to admit it but he loved seeing you cry, and now. Crying out of pleasure, crying because of him overwhelming you. It was pure bliss. His fingertips will surely leave bruises, your body will show the aftermath of Ghost for at least a week. He’s doing everything he can to hear those pretty sobs, and he’s so mean. Such a bully. He’s bullying your nipples and sensitive clit, overstimulating you so that he can hear those pretty cries even if you’re telling him that it’s too much. You can take it, he reassures you that you can. “Ah! Simon please-“ you tilt your head back. He inhales the scent of your hair, fingertips rubbing furiously at your clit. “You can take it. We both know you can.” He breathes. “This is what you get for being such a stupid girl, putting yourself in danger like you did.” He clicks his tongue, tight grip on your hips, one of your legs raised slightly as he had the perfect angle to fuck into you. When he spins you around, pushing his mask up to the bridge of his nose, taking your nipple into his mouth and being so mean. Bullying your poor sensitive nipple and sucking it until it’s swollen and red and you’re crying so much. When he cums, it’s a little unexpected. But it’s the perfect amount of time for you to let out the perfect mewl. Finishing around his cock. He can’t help but pinch your nipples between his fingers, fucking you through your orgasm. He overstimulates himself in the process but he’d do anything to hear you cry. Anything.

Gaz:

Since Gaz was the closest to your age, he knew exactly what to say to get under your skin. He reminded you a lot of a high school bully. When you first joined the task force, he harassed you constantly. You were quiet, never talked back. You took his harassment. It went on for months and months. It was annoying and he was just a jerk, a bully. One day during dinner in the mess hall he said something and set you off, and you finally fired back at him. You embarrassed him a little bit in front of the other members which pissed him off. You stood up and hurried off to your room, mad and upset. He rolled his eyes, told a lie about how he was going to go after you to apologize. He went after you but for not the reasons he said. He barged his way into your room, locking the door behind him. In no time he had you sprawled out on your bed, bullying your pussy with his tongue and fingers. He was edging you until you couldn’t handle anymore, crying. He told you to cry into the pillow, but you were being loud, which only made him meaner. He was growing annoyed with you being so loud, pushing the pillow into your face more as he nudges your clit with his nose, abusing your pussy even further. “You’ll learn not to talk back to me, you fucking crybaby.” He growls.

He pulls you close to him, forcing you to lay on your stomach. “Put your face into the pillow, if I hear one cry from you that isn’t muffled, you won’t get to cum.” He growls. You nod your head, gasping into the pillow when he thrusts inside of you. He was huge and you weren’t ready for him at all. “Just cry into the pillow sweetheart, be a good girl for me and I’ll make you cum.” He pants. Your bed is only squeaking a little bit, thank god. But he’s not really making any attempts at being quiet. His groans are loud and even though your cries are muffled, they’re still audible. You’re clutching the sheets so hard and he can’t help but smile. You were being so good, he wants to praise you. But he knows you like it. You like when he picks on you. The tip of his cock bullies it’s way through your folds, nudging up against your cervix and he’s getting close. “Kyle?” You whimper. You look back at him, teary eyes and messy hair. He nearly busts right there. “Yeah honey?” He groans. “I’m close” you whimper. He smirks. “You can cum. Since you’ve been so good.” He breathes. He continues thrusting into you, covering your mouth with his hand because he knows the pillow won’t help. Your scream is muffled when you finally cum on his cock. Tightening down around him so perfectly. “Oh fuck- fuck I’m going to cum so fucking deep in this pussy.” He groans, his voice is unsteady and desperate and a growl leaves his lips when he finishes. “You’ll learn to be a good girl for me.” He mumbles into your ear, cock still buried inside of you.

[thegnomelord]

Got Your Tongue

CW: NSFW, first time blowjobs, Top Male reader, breath play, Implied Switch reader, Implied Switch Ghost, Ghost's self hate is showing, idk if I characterized him well, long word vomit fic again :/

Ya'll are free to thow requests/thirsts/asks my way, srs my brain rots can only go so far lads.

Ghost is like a feral cat; you never know what the fuck he's thinking and it drives you both up the wall. Hell, most of the time you can't tell if he actually wants to be with you.

You'll go days if not weeks without touching each other until you start pondering if you're going mad and looking too deep into whatever this is, and the next time you're doing something as mundane as making tea he'll suddenly be there— his large and firm chest pressing against your back and burying his face into your neck, wrapping strong arms around your waist and clamping his teeth on your neck deep and long enough to leave a bruise. And when you find your voice to ask what he's doing he'll give you a deep noncommittal grunt with a thousand meanings, grab the tea you were making and disappear like his namesake as if he hadn't just given you a heart attack.

Or after a deadly mission he'll use his overbearing bulk to bully you into the first secluded nook or broom closet or whatever he finds and push you against the wall until your ribs are groaning so he can steal the remaining air in your lungs with a harsh kiss that's more teeth than anything else. You can never mind his brutish ways when every kiss with him feels like the first and the last, desperate and eager you'll kiss him until you're both lightheaded and your hands are grabbing at his belt. But even the slightest attempt at going further will make things stop. "Good," He'll say in the same tone of voice like he's just won an argument, then he'll be gone again, leaving you confused and aroused.

Ghost isn't dumb, knows the state he leaves you in because he feels the same way — aroused and sad and confused and angry. He knows it's his fault, knows he should talk and ask for what he wants. But his childhood, his life, his death, had shaped him into a man of action and violence, and there's always this sick feeling he gets in his stomach when he holds you like he knows he'll break you like he has with everything else in his life; fuck up the first good thing he's had in a while.

Pathetic, he is.

Even more pathetic because he knows how smitten you are with him. He can feel your eyes on his body when he goes on a bulk, glued to his arse and thighs that barely fit in his jeans because of course that's where most of the calories go, knows you have to concentrate to keep your fingers to yourself because otherwise you'll be trying to squeeze and feel up and use the added chub his chest and stomach develops like a bloody stress ball.

He's a downright wretch for how your gaze makes him feel, how his heart hammers just a bit faster in his chest when you do a double take and how a sense of power burns in his veins when you snap at recruits after you catch them staring at his arse.

He's still shit at expressing that and it's getting on his nerves. Lucky for him, you're running out of patience too.

Next time he has you pinned to a wall after a mission it's in your shared bunkroom and you've been dancing( more like stumbling) around each other like dogs for weeks. He kisses you in the same desperate overbearing way he always does, like he expects to never see you again so he's taking everything you'll give him, your teeth clacking together and moans echoing into the other's mouth.

Your heart sinks like a stone when he pulls away to catch his breath, mask pulled up to his nose, muttering the dreaded "Good,".

You're quicker this time, each hand grabbing his arse cheek before he can disappear. "Not good." You pull him back into you, chests pressed together and hips shifting until you feel his cock against yours so you can swallow the sharp inhale he makes. "Stop fucking blue balling me."

"So fockin' needy." He grunts against your lips in a tone that makes it both a praise and an insult. Simon puts his paw of a hand on your sternum and tries to push you away, something white hot zapping up his spine when you don't yield, your chest hard and solid beneath his hand as if to spite his belief.

"Only because you keep scampering off." You argue and have half a mind to bat his hand off your chest but the fear of him leaving has your hands digging firmly into the meat of his arse. "Come on Si, talk to me, do you want this or am I barking up the wrong tree?"

He tries. His mouth opens slightly but trepidation and displaced anger clogs his throat, so he answers in his own way. Simon's hands slide to your shoulders and then to your head, pulling you painfully by the hair until you're kissing him again. He leans fully into you almost crushing you, and the strange buzz in his head when you don't even flinch that has him trying to convey through his body what he can't through his words.

"That's not an answer." He feels you frown against his lips before you're pulling your head back against his grip to look at his half covered face. "Just nod or shake your head, okay? Don't need an essay here."

He swallows and doesn't even have to think before he's nodding his head.

"Good." You can't even hide the relief you feel, tilting your head to kiss him softer before nibbling on his lip. "Can we get you out of those clothes? Need to see you so bad right now."

"Fine," He manages, pulls you by your hair to kiss you again, barely helping you when you try taking off his clothes. You've fucked before, but this feels different with you now on the receiving end instead of him, and he's grateful when you don't try taking off his mask so you don't see how nervous he is.

"Can you lay on the bed love? Wanna try something new, okay?" You say and greedily run your fingers along the light patch of his between his pecs, trailing down his happy trail to give his cock a few dry jerks.

He grunts, bites your shoulder in retaliation, before he submits and lets you rearrange him how you want. "What shit are you planning?" He demands as he looks at you from where he's laying across your bunk with his head hanging off the foot end of it, making blood rush to his head.

"Something good." You muse, unzipping your pants just enough to free your cock, and now Simon understand why you chose this position— it inverses your sizes, makes you loom over him and his cock throbs painfully at how small he suddenly feels. "You know you can tap out." You remind him.

His eyes shift to yours, blown so wide they're just pools of black, and he glares at you. "Stop wastin' time." He growls and reaches out to grip your thighs and all but throws you on him.

"Who's needy now?" You giggle when you catch yourself with your hands on his firm and chubby pecs, tilting your head down to watch him lay kisses and small licks along the underside of your shaft. God if the sight of it doesn't make your cock twitch, feeling his heartbeat as you squeeze and play with his pecs definitely does.

"Still you." He huffs and opens his mouth to take you inside, the new angle letting you easily push past his teeth and tongue and straight into his throat. He tries to breathe and fails, throat fluttering and gagging before you quickly pull out so he can breathe.

"Si-"

"Shu'it." He grows before you can ask if he's sure, pulling you by your thighs and taking your cock deep into his throat again. He's better this time, figuring out to relax his throat and hollow his cheeks and only breathe when you pull out just enough for air to pass through his larynx.

"God, fuck, Simon." You can't help but moan at how hot and tight his mouth is, stuck between watching his throat bulge from your cock and his entire body jiggle with every shallow thrust of your hips. The sight of his cock standing tall and proud just from how deep in his throat you are has you flexing your muscles and biting your lip in a desperate attempt not to cum immediately.

He groans, the sound vibrating around your shaft, his heart hammering in his ears louder and louder every time you bottom out. Distantly he knows he should want to fight back and gain control and dominate, like he should feel adrenaline and violence run through his veins because he can hardly breathe and has to struggle not to choke.

But he doesn't; the lack of oxygen hits his brain better than any drug on the market and makes his head nice and fuzzy and calm. He doesn't even feel his eyes close and just focuses on the feel of your cock in his throat with a sense of euphoria settling over his weary body and mind like a weighted blanket. He lets himself float in bliss, sometimes remembering to run his tongue over the veins in your cock or to suckle on it when only the tip remains inside.

He barely hears you praise him, your once careful pace quickly gaining speed and intensity when you see how fucked out he looks when his lips are stretched around the base of your shaft. Your deep thrusts make his body jiggle in a mesmerizing way, his thick thigs spreading open and cock leaking steady drops of precum.

"I'm not gonna last long Si." You try to warn him but Ghost just humms drunkly, suckling eagerly on your cock as best he can. Even blissed out he's good with his mouth, and you don't last long.

You pull out with just your tip remaining inside, letting him get in a deep breath before you're pushing inside balls deep, hunching over him and cumming down his gullet straight down his esophagus. He gurgles, throat bobbing as he swallows what he can and chokes on what he can't.

"You're okay, you're okay." You sooth, pulling out quickly and helping him sit up, smacking his back to help him breathe again. "You broken?"

He coughs, shaking his head numbly, voice low and scratchy when he says, "Negative."

Before you know it he's pulling you by your hair into a kiss. You melt into him, not bothered by your seed on his tongue as you kiss him back just as deeply as he does you. You pull away when you feel his hold weaken a bit, resting your forehead against his, wiping sweat from his cheek. "God you look so pretty."

He grunts, tugs on your hair in revenge for your words. You catch his eyes shift to his own cock. "Look what you caused." He mumbles, laying a chaste and drunk kiss on your lips. "Fix it."

You can't help but giggle, kissing him again as you feel him melt against you.

[liciapeonia]

Heyy I don't know how to send request but I was thinking what do you think about a jinx x fem reader who like jinx literally found her because she stalked the reader it's like if Joe Goldberg met arcane. I don't know anyway have fun! That's my request if you can do it id love it :)

thanks for the request it was interesting to make it, I hope you like it !!!!

Just by your side

Jinx

For Jinx, love wasn't exactly obvious, for her it was complicated to see it, so when she liked someone she just stood back and watched, usually afraid to get close and make a big mess of things, usually her “ passions ” as Silco used to say, didn't last long, Jinx would see the person she thought was wonderful do some shit and act like she'd never even seen the human before in her life, but you didn't do anything wrong, you were always sweet and kind, and that drove Jinx crazy…

You met her because Silco hired you, but she had known you for a long time…

At the end of the month, the bar decided to have a party that very few people could enter, only those with the greatest reputation and power in Zaum would be part of it, these types of events were common, and Jinx always had to participate, it was normal for people to take drugs and a lot of loud music, normally Jinx would stay for a while and then leave for her hiding place, but that night she was enchanted and it was like a mermaid had captured her…

In the midst of a crowd of people Jinx was standing on the pillars observing when she saw a slender figure trying his best to get past the ogres to get to the bar, your clothes weren't the fanciest and you could get in and out of any place easily without being noticed but something about you made her hypnotized maybe your silky hair or your curious eyes but something about how you acted in how you could make a joke so easily with the barman made her want to stay a little longer in that place just to watch you.

For months she watched you, following you home, seeing who your friends were, observing your curves from a distance, your laughter, listening to the melody of your voice as you talked to your boss, going to your work to see you pick up a gun to repair, but all good things are short-lived, and a few questions began to hammer away in her head.

''I should talk to her…'' (She'll think you're a freak, how could anyone in their right mind chase her all the way home) Milo implies to her

''She doesn't know I'm sneaking around with her, I just want to make sure she's safe'' ('So sweet watching her walk down the street, seeing her with her friends walking to her house and watching her while she sleeps, she'll think you're a creep and you are)

“Shut up, I don't want to know” (you know it's true, you know that if you talked to her, she'd feel disgusted of you)

And that's how Jinx's head stayed almost every night after she observed you until she got home. For her, it was a way of protecting you if someone did something to you, a way of loving you without you hating her.

Then one day when she was in the hideout creating some bombs Silco called Jinx and to her happiness, you were standing right in front of her in Silco's office, and in her eyes, you shone like a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

Reader

It was your first day working with Silco's daughter and she was simply wonderful. You were good at creating mechanisms and sometimes working with weapons you were hired to improve the machines of the shimmer factories and Jinx was in charge of watching you work because apparently you weren't “ trusted” and that was the best thing you could want.

Jinx was adorable, and funny and seemed to know exactly what to say and when to say it. Naturally, she had a few problems with some voices but nothing you couldn't handle, you fell in love with her the moment you saw her.

Jinx

''You should put up some curtains, I don't know, maybe some pervert will be able to see you from outside… and I don't want anyone to see you with nothing on, toots'' she said, wrapping her arms around your waist, and putting her head on your neck.

“ Oh that's awful, do you really think anyone would look at me?” you say, squeezing her against you.

''There are a lot of weirdos out there but don't worry if there is someone

I'll sort it out for you'' she says removing her head from your neck and looking at you.

You give her a satisfied smile and give her a needy kiss on the lips that leads to a full-blown cuddle session.

[reminiscingtonight]

The Talk

Alessia Russo x Williamson!Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: A short one for our Arsenal girls' win

[WOSO Masterlist]

Leah’s not stupid.

Leah may be rash, hard headed, and a little reckless sometimes, but she’s not stupid.

It’s obvious how something has changed with you. You, her sweet baby sister, went from watching trashy TV on the couch with her most nights to not even bothering to stay home after practice anymore, always sneaking back into the house at early hours of the new day when you think she’s still asleep.

Leah likes to think she’s a good sister. Someone you’ll always turn to if you need help or if you have anything you want to share with her. 

But obviously what she likes to think can’t be further from the truth because two months pass and you’re still sneaking around, taking muted phone calls around the corner, never spending more than a few minutes alone with your sister anymore. 

Leah likes to take pride in her observation skills. But honestly she can point to your inability to be subtle that helps her figure the whole thing out. It begins as pink cheeks whenever a certain new striker comes near you. The eyes that linger too long when you are all in the gym together for a quick weight training session only adds on to her suspicions.

Leah has also noticed the way long limbs often trail after you, stumbling into the nearest bin whenever you laugh at a not-so-funny joke made by the girl in question. Alessia’s often found sat near your side whenever the girls have a movie night, or whenever the lot of you go out for a meal together.

Leah considers her suspicions confirmed when you disappear after a night out at the club with the rest of your teammates and Alessia is also conveniently missing as well. 

So, the next day after practice, Leah decides enough is enough. No more sneaking around, no more lying. She was going to take matters into her own hands and put an end to everything. It’s about time she lays the hammer down, even if it comes at the risk of you hating her. 

The opportunity arrives when Alessia is called away to the physios. Leah lingers in the hallway after practice ends, pretending to busy herself as she awaits the striker’s return. When Alessia finally finishes her session, she’s walking down the hallway, head down, entranced in her phone when a hand shoots out, gripping tightly against her forearm and yanking her into a nearby storage closet. 

The shriek she lets out quickly dies when she meets the familiar eyes of her national team captain.

“Leah!” Alessia gasps, trying to pull in a breath of air at the surprise. 

Leah’s eyes narrow at the younger girl, hand only tightening its grip against her arm. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Russo. Because I definitely do, and I have to say, I’m not amused so far.”

“I…” Alessia trails off, trying not to look too rattled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Watch your next words carefully, Russo. I don’t take well to liars,” Leah warns, voice dangerously low.

Alessia’s mouth clamp shuts. 

You warned her about this. On your first date out, you warned Alessia about how protective Leah could get. 

“I think we should wait to tell Leah. There’s no telling what she’ll do.”

So she agreed, not thinking much about it. 

Until she got the offer to play for Arsenal. And then her access to you was unfiltered and oh-so easy. 

Where the two of you used to be so cautious about not letting anything slip, faced with the ability to see each other whenever you wanted was just too good of an offer to pass up. So gone were the nights you’d entertain Leah’s want for sisterly cuddles. Gone were the days you went out for after practice smoothies, relishing in some quality time with your sister. Now you go out on dates with your girlfriend because you can. You can take her to all the places around London, take all the time you want mindlessly strolling about just because you can.

Though now that Alessia is thinking about it, maybe the two of you should have tried a little harder to hide your relationship. Because faced with a slightly fuming Leah Williamson glaring down at her, Alessia has the sinking suspicion she’s not getting out of here alive.

“You’ve been keeping (Y/N) out until the late night hours every night. I oughta have you benched for the next couple games just for that.”

Alessia’s eyes widen even more in fear. Did Leah actually have the power to have her benched? Alessia has no idea. But she’s not willing to flirt with the idea. 

“I love her, Leah. I really do. She… she makes me feel things that I didn’t think I ever would.”

And once she starts, Alessia can’t stop. 

“I would never hurt her, I hope you know that. I feel so lucky every day that I get to call (Y/N) mine. I thank my lucky stars that she chose me because I think she can do so much better. I wake up every day so in awe of her and I love her so much that sometimes I feel like I can’t even breathe. I love her every single second of every single day, and I’ll continue to love her until we either break up or I die because let’s be real I’ll probably keep loving her even if we ever do break up. Not that I want to break up with her though! I would never break up with her,” Alessia rambles on, not seeing Leah blink as she slowly becomes overwhelmed with the amount that the younger girl is saying.

Leah didn’t really come into this thinking too much. Her goal was to scare the star striker a bit, but the younger girl’s word vomit of appreciation for you, though lovely, is a bit unexpected.

Alessia also seems a bit taken aback herself, face steadily reddening as embarrassment floods her system. 

Alessia doesn’t have much time to think it over though. Suddenly the door beneath her back disappears, light flooding into the room as the two of them go toppling out of the closest. 

Leah swears when she crashes to the ground, Alessia’s bony frame not doing much to cushion her fall. 

When Leah looks up, she finds you staring at the two of them, mouth slightly agape in confusion. 

Alessia pales when she realizes it’s you who opened the door. She scrambles to push Leah off of her, the older girl glaring at her as she lands on the cold hard ground. “It’s not what it looks like.”

Leah, on the other hand, simply rolls her eyes before getting onto her feet. You’re watching with wide eyes as she comes to a brief stop in front of you, pausing long enough to brush the lightest of kisses against your cheek. 

“She passed the sister test. I approve.”

She pinches your cheeks between her fingers as an afterthought, and your look of confusion quickly turns into a scowl as you swat at Leah’s hands. “Leah Cathrine, get your grimy hands off of me.”

“Bring Lessi around for dinner some time, yeah?” With one last loving pat, Leah gets on her way, leaving the two of you to stare after her as she slowly turns the corner.

Alessia nervously rubs at the back of her head when you turn your gaze onto her. 

“What did you tell her, Less?”

“I…” It’s times like these that Alessia can really see the resemblance between you and Leah. Narrow eyes full of suspicion but still filled with love. Alessia hedges her bets that you love her more than you’ll dig for answers. 

“I love you?” The words are paired with an unconvincing smile, Alessia not eager to repeat her word vomit.

[munson-blurbs]

@corrodedcoffinfest Day 24: Behind the Scenes

Word Count: 701/Rating: T/Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader/CW: Eddie's got a crush, theatre girl!Reader, reader wears a dress, one dirty joke thanks to Gareth/Tags: Eddie Munson, Gareth, Grant, Jeff, theatre girl!Reader, Principal Higgins

Divider credit to @silkholland

“This is all your fault,” Gareth hissed at Eddie. “I should be behind the bleachers, making out with Annie right now.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, swiping a paint brush over a two-by-four. “Sure, blame the guy standing up to The Man. Let’s not consider that Principal Higgins was the one who banned us from the talent show.”

Jeff hiked up his sleeves and grabbed the nearest hammer, ready to construct the Scarecrow’s perch. “Higgins didn’t ‘ban’ us,” he countered. “He just told us we couldn’t play War Pigs.”

“And that’s better?” Eddie shook his head. “No, we were given freedom of speech for a reason! We should be able to play whatever we goddamn want!”

Mrs. Porter, the school play’s director, glared at him and shushed. Eddie held up his hands in surrender, but continued complaining in a loud whisper. 

“All I’m saying is, if he didn’t want us putting on our own lunchtime performance, he should’ve let us do our thing at the talent show.”

“I think the lunch ladies enjoyed it,” Grant chimed in, earning himself a thwack in the back of the head from Jeff. 

Eddie was about to thank him for his support, but a flash of pink caught his eye. You were standing in front of the girl playing Dorothy and twirling in your Glinda dress. After a few spins, you got dizzy, and Dorothy caught you as you both burst into laughter.

Gareth resumed his rant, oblivious to Eddie’s sudden smittenness. “I’d rather play Girls Just Wanna Have Fun than build sets for the fuckin’ school play.” He held the perch in place so Jeff could hammer in the nail. “At least we could write lyrics and plan campaigns in regular deten–are you even listening to me?”

“Huh?” Eddie blinked a few times, snapping himself out of his daze. “Yeah. Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. Got it.”

“What’re you looking at?” Grant peered around one of the fighting trees, his face splitting into a grin when he saw. “Oh, that’s why you’re not pitching a fit about this set design detention.”

Jeff batted his eyelashes flirtatiously. “Eddie, do you have the hots for the fairy princess?”

“Shut up!” Eddie grumbled. “And she’s not a fairy princess; she’s Glinda the Good Witch.”

The backup guitarist put up his hands in mock surrender. “My apologies.” 

“You gonna ask her to play with your wand?” Gareth snickered, but he quickly stopped once Eddie shot him a look that could kill.

You disappeared back into the makeshift dressing room, and Eddie let out a silent sigh of relief. He might not be able to stare at you from afar, but at least he could think about you without the guys interfering. The subject naturally shifted to the songs they wanted to add to their setlist for their Hideout gigs, and Eddie was in the clear.

Until.

“Those look great!” 

Eddie’s head shot up at the sound of your voice. His cheeks reddened and his mouth relaxed into a sheepish grin.

“Thanks, yeah. I’m not much of an artist–like, a painting artist. I band. Um, I mean, I play in a band. So, like, music artist. I do music. Yeah.”

You raised your eyebrows, clearly unsure how to interpret his rambling. “Well, a music artist is still an artist.”

“Yeah.” Christ, Munson; is that the only word you know?

Gareth was more than happy to supply further conversation. “Sorry, he’s kind of an idiot around girls he’s hopelessly in love with.”

‘I hate you’ was perched on Eddie’s tongue, but you stepped in. You paid no attention to the menace-formerly-known-as-Gareth as you spoke directly to Eddie. “Well, we always need music artists to help make the orchestra pit fuller. If you’re interested.”

“No–I mean, yeah, I’m interested. Super interested.” The paint brush clattered to the ground, but he barely noticed. “Where do I sign up?”

As Eddie followed you to where the orchestra conductor was tuning violins, Gareth leaned closer to the two remaining bandmates. “Think it’s a good idea to tell him that Higgins is technically the reason why he got to talk to his dream girl?”

Jeff clapped a hand on the drummer’s back. “Good luck with that.”

--

[bloodyinkandquill]

Ban Hammer x Reader

it is two am, istg do not write on this until the morning me, i will hate you i have to be up in five hours let’s go to bed

ok i didn’t write this but i did stay up another hour and a half listening to a true crime podcast so…

- You’d think dating a 6’11 demigod who owns the most secure prison in Inpherno would not be on someone’s to-do list, but for you it was different, you knew him more than just the fearsome warden, to you he was your lover and honestly, a bit of a big softy

- Ban Hammer was big, he knew that, really strong too, so he was more than just a little afraid of hurting you, especially if he had his big and sharp armor on, he liked being physically affectionate, but he did worry about hurting you, so he’d wait until he’d taken off his armor you hug you, which did sort of feel like being swallowed whole since he’s such a large man, but it felt safe and warm so you never minded it

- He was gruff and tough but after a long day he enjoyed just laying face down the couch as you stroked his head pulling it to rest on your lap, he’d just lie there as you tried to convince him to get up, take off his armor, get some water, etc, he’d grumble about it but eventually get up

- Hope you like golf, he loves taking you to go golf, he’d never admit this but it’s mostly because when he does good you tell him how great of a shot he was and other junk like that and he enjoyed the praise, if you didn’t like golf he wouldn’t mind you sitting back as long as you were there together, and you were paying attention to him, he may be your boyfriend but he’s very clingy like a puppy, he also loved receiving praise from you, he already thinks very highly of himself but hearing you say those things feels even better to him

- He’d probably take you on very fancy dinner dates, to those really nice restaurants, though you have to make the reservations because he can be a little high strung and will demand certain things like a good seat, or a discount, so to avoid him getting mad at some poor waitress you make them for the both of you

- Like mentioned he’s super cuddly and snuggly, he loves just holding you as he sleeps, or sitting very close to you to the point he’s practically on top of you, you sometimes have to tell him that’s he’s crushing you, he moves immediately and feels bad, you tell him it’s fine but how about you sit on him instead

- Unironically uses sorta cheesy pet names, you’d expect him to be more creative with it but I feel like he’d use ‘baby, babe, sweetheart, etc’ though something funny he does is he has his voice and then his warden voice, loud and commanding to demand respect and fear, sometimes he forgets to turn it off when he gets home so he gets home and says in a gruff unamused voice ‘babe i’m home!’ to the point it sounds sorta angry, you crack up and he clears his throat before saying it snot that funny, as you’re doubling over in laughter

- The first time you met Windforce was terrifying, he loved you but he loved his mom more, if she said she didn’t like you that would be it, and if you pissed her off you feared her wrath, luckily she thought you were fine, obviously she has a distaste for mortals but you make her boy happy so she puts up with you, maybe not fully liking you but she doesn’t mind you, as long as you don’t annoy her she doesn’t care

- Thought meeting Windforce was scary? One time Ban Hammer said his whole family was having a dinner party, Firebrand organized it trying to keep the family all together and connected, and Ban Hammer wanted to bring you to meet all his uncles and few cousins, you didn’t wanna say no but holy shit you were terrified, you were about to meet literally the entirety of the SFotH, which was definitely intimidating, luckily they all at the very least didn’t dislike you, and you got to meet Flipside which was cool, but holy shit when you go home you let out the biggest breath ever since you were so on edge the whole time

hope you enjoyed! had fun writing it and thinking of all this junk, anyways до свидания!

[marzipanandminutiae]

Marzi's Old House Supply Kit: A Non-Exhaustive List

So you've moved into an old house! Congratulations! No, no, look at me. Look in my eyes. Congratulations. You don't need smart lighting. You don't need paltry things like "showers that don't make ungodly noises if you set the water outside a very specific temperature range" or "logical staircases." Because those people who say They Built Them Sturdier Back Then is survivorship bias are wrong, lead paint is only a problem if you eat it, and your new home is basically a tank

also it might have stained glass. so basically you win

(no but seriously the Survivorship Bias argument is just like. tell me you don't live in a city with large quantities of remaining working-class 110-year-old buildings without telling me. I do. they're sturdier. end of.)

but you might need some things to make it a bit more comfortable. here's what I've found, over eight years of living in houses built 1920 or earlier

Power strips. Depending on the age of your house, it may or may not have had electricity originally. And even if it did, whoever lived there almost certainly had fewer things to plug in than the average denizen of the 2020s. There also may have been gorgeous wall sconces that some asshole heartlessly ripped out at some point, forcing you to use the hideous hateful Overhead LightTM or plug in a bunch of lamps. Either way, you're going to need to turn that single outlet in the room into several more. Hence, power strips.

(hey, I never said this list was free of my design biases. deal)

A Good Fan. You may live in a place where retrofitting with air conditioning was commonplace in the last several decades. I do not. So a good pedestal fan can make the difference between comfort and just not sleeping at all from late June to mid-September. Weirdly, I did once look at a place that was from the 1850s and had been retrofitted with central A/C, which is vanishingly rare in even urban Massachusetts. But I digress.

A stud-finder. "Marzi, you spent years of your life explaining to tourists that picture rails existed because trying to hammer nails directly into horsehair plaster and then putting weight on them did Bad Things." Yes I did. "What did you attempt to do the second week of living in your first house with horsehair plaster?" ...shut up. I used the Poltergeist Method to find solid wood- I don't know if it's actually studs or the lath or what; I'm not a builder -to hang my Lady and the Unicorn tapestry from, namely knocking on the wall until it doesn't sound hollow. You might want to go a bit quieter and more advanced. Or, if you have a picture rail, embrace the "long visible hanging wires" look. It is in fact there for a reason!

Window screens. You are actually required by Massachusetts state law to provide these to your tenants. Doesn't mean my last landlady did. And if you own your place, live in another state, or have a similarly laissez-faire building owner, you might end up needing to Bring Your Own Insect-Blocking Shield. Just make sure you've got them, one way or the other. Because see above re: fan vs. air conditioning in old houses.

WD-40. When's the last time those hinges were oiled? Potentially before television. And they WILL squeak. UPDATE I HAVE BEEN INFORMED THAT WD-40 IS NOT A GOOD LONGTERM SOLUTION. Find "actual oil." Not sure what the more specific name is. Good to know!

That's just what I've found needful so far, but I'm happy to update the list as required!

And you'd better believe, if I owned my own place, this would include "the name of a preservation contractor to undo all the unnecessary ~*MoDeRnIzInG*~ aesthetic bullshit the past owners did since the End of Mainstream Western House Beauty AKA 1920 (That Brief Rococo Revival In the 1930s Can Maybe Sit With Us)"

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Hi! I don’t know if you’re taking requests from the rivals prompt list but if you are I was thinking these two fit perfectly with barty.

“When we’re done here, we can go back to hating each other. Deal?” “You’re not going to believe this, but I think I actually prefer things like this.”

“So, what are we? Friends? Rivals? Friendly rivals?” “Well, that kiss we just had might point to another option…”

Do You Some Good {Blurb}

Barty Crouch Jr. x Reader

CW: Dubcon Kissing, bickering, closed spaces, Barty being a dick- reader too

WC: ~2k

AN: I am sorry I couldn't find a way to make the second quote to work properly 🫡

You crept through the stacks, heart hammering in your chest as you scanned the shelves for the book Madam Pince refused to let you check out; The Layman’s Guide to Active Practical Potioneering. Remus had been too proud to ask for help, but you’d seen how pale and shaky he looked after every full moon. You weren’t going to let him struggle alone- not if you could find something to ease the pain of his transformations.

Gripping your wand tightly, you muttered, “Lumos,” casting a faint glow over the spines of dusty, leather-bound books. Your fingers trailed along the gilded titles until you spotted it, tucked precariously on a high shelf. You stretched onto your tiptoes, fingers brushing the spine when

“Wow. Never thought I’d see the Gryffindor Golden Girl playing burglar in the Restricted Section. Recon I've seen it all now.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes even before turning to face him. Sure enough, Barty Crouch Jr. stood there, leaning against a bookshelf with that insufferable smirk plastered across his face. He looked completely at ease, like he belonged here, which only annoyed you further.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” You shot back, placing one hand on your hip. “Plot world domination? Pick on a few first-years- oh, wait, is this the part where you monologue about how clever you are for catching me?”

Barty straightened, giving you an exaggerated, mock-hurt expression. “You wound me, darling. I don’t monologue. That’s for the villains in bedtime stories. I prefer to keep things… hands-on.”

You snorted, turning back to the shelf. “Congratulations. You’re the first person to make breaking and entering sound even more pretentious than it already is.”

He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Pretentious or not, you’re the one getting caught. Should I summon Filch now, or do you want to grovel first?”

You spun to face him, your eyes narrowing. “And what exactly are yo doing here, Crouch? Collecting dark magic recipes for your villainous scrapbook?”

He shrugged, looking entirely unbothered. “Unlike you, I have permission to be here, darling.” He paused for effect, letting the smugness seep into his tone. “But please, do go on about my moral failings while you’re stealing from the Restricted Section.”

“Oh, shove it, Crouch.” You snapped, brushing past him. “You wouldn’t know morality if it hexed you in the face.”

“Morality.” He mused, stepping into your path, “is for people who don’t win. Which reminds me- you don’t even know what you’re looking for, do you?”

Your glare was enough to send most people running, but Barty just grinned wider, clearly enjoying himself. “As a matter of fact, I do,” you retorted, holding up the book triumphantly. “And you’re going to stay out of my way.”

“Right. Because you’re such an expert on potion-making,” he said, crossing his arms. “Let me guess; you’re going to throw random ingredients into a cauldron and hope it doesn’t blow up in Lupin’s face?”

The use of Remus’s name struck a nerve, but you refused to let it show. Instead, you mirrored his smug tone. “And here I thought you were just stalking me for the cliff notes, but no, you’ve got the whole story. Bravo. I’m impressed.”

He raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “You should be. I know exactly what I’m doing here, unlike you, who’s about five minutes away from making a mess you can’t fix. Want me to show you how it’s done?”

You barked out a laugh. “Oh, please. The day I take advice from you is the day I decide to believe you have a heart, Barty.” You sang his nickname so sarcastic and so bloody pretty, he thought. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

He leaned in, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath. “You sure about that, love? Because I think you’re out of your depth.”

Your chin tilted up defiantly. “And I think you’re out of time. Do you hear that? That’s Filch, and he’s going to catch both of us if you don’t stop flapping your mouth and move.”

Barty cocked his head, listening for a moment, and sure enough, the faint sound of footsteps echoed through the library. He grabbed your wrist without hesitation, dragging you into the shadows of a nearby alcove.

Pressed close together, you glared up at him. “Let go of me.” Yoh hissed.

“Not until we’re safe,” he whispered back, his grin returning. “And I don’t mean from Filch.”

You rolled your eyes, your heart pounding more from the proximity than the danger. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here I am, saving your skin.”

“Saving me?!” You whisper-yelled, leaning closer. “If anything, you’re making this worse!”

Filch’s voice grew louder, and Barty’s smirk only deepened. “Relax, love. I’ve got it under control. Unlike you.”

Filch’s footsteps drew closer, the sound of his grumbling cutting through the heavy silence. You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could, Barty’s smirk melted into something sharper, more decisive.

“Don’t say I never do anything for you, love.” He murmured, his voice low and teasing.

You barely had time to process his words before he tilted his head down and kissed you.

At first, your brain short-circuited, caught between shock and outrage. He actually had the audacity to-! But the noise of Filch muttering about “students sneakin’ about where they don’t belong” pulled you back into the moment. Your hands moved instinctively, clutching at his robes, unsure if you were about to push him away or keep yourself upright.

And then, something shifted.

The kiss wasn’t just a ploy to keep you quiet; it was… intense. Annoyingly good. Infuriatingly, maddeningly good. His lips were warm, insistent, and- Merlin help you- you found yourself kissing him back.

Barty’s hand came up to cradle the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pressed you further into the shadowed alcove. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss with a confidence that made your stomach flip. You hated him for it. Almost as much as you hated how your knees wobbled slightly under his touch.

Filch’s footsteps paused, his muttering fading for a moment. Your heart jumped into your throat, panic surging. But Barty only pulled you closer, as if the heat of the moment could hide you both from the threat entirely.

It worked. Filch grumbled something about “bloody cats” before his footsteps retreated. The tension in the air seemed to ebb slightly, but Barty didn’t pull back. Neither did you.

Eventually, the sound of silence returned, leaving only the quiet hum of your shared breath and the pounding of your heart. Finally, you shoved at his chest, breaking away with a sharp glare.

“What the hell was that?” You hissed, your face hot enough to rival the surface of the sun.

“A brilliant distraction,” Barty replied smoothly, his smirk making a triumphant return as if nothing had just happened.

“Oh, brilliant, was it?” You snapped, wiping your lips with the back of your hand, though the gesture felt half-hearted. “Is this your idea of helping?”

He leaned casually against the wall, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Well, we didn’t get caught, did we? I’d say it worked perfectly.”

You stared at him, torn between yelling and hexing him. “You kissed me.” You accused, your voice low and sharp.

“I did.” He agreed, looking completely unapologetic. “And, if I might add, you kissed me back. Enthusiastically.”

Your jaw dropped. “I-! That was not-!”

“Oh, it was, darling.” He stepped closer, his smirk softening into something dangerously charming. “You can keep pretending you didn’t enjoy it, but I was there. You weren’t exactly complaining.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but the words caught in your throat. Barty’s hand brushed against your wrist, his touch as infuriatingly gentle as it was deliberate.

“Tell you what.” He said softly, his voice teasing but laced with something more. “When we’re done here, we can go back to hating each other. Deal?”

You narrowed your eyes, refusing to let him see how rattled you were. “Deal,” you bit out, your voice steadier than you felt.

Barty moved forward again, leaving you to press your back against the wall. “Believe it or not,” He chuckled. “I think I quite prefer you like this.”

Barty’s grin widened, sharp and insufferable, as he lingered in the small space between you, the closeness feeling far more deliberate than necessary. His tone dipped, dripping with amusement as he added, “All flustered. A little breathless. It’s… cute.”

Your fists clenched at your sides, the urge to slap that grin off his face growing stronger with every word. “Cute?” You hissed, barely keeping your voice low enough not to alert Filch. “I’ll show you cute when I hex you into next week.”

He chuckled, infuriatingly at ease, and took a slow step back, as if giving you space was some kind of favor. “Now, now, let’s not resort to violence. We’ve already had our hands full tonight, haven’t we?” His gaze flicked to your lips, just for a second, before meeting your eyes again. “Besides, it’d be a shame to ruin our… collaboration.”

You glared, brushing past him with a sharp shove. “Collaboration? Merlin’s beard, you’re delusional. You ambushed me, kissed me, and somehow think that makes us a team.”

Barty followed at a leisurely pace, clearly enjoying the game. “Oh, come on, darling. Admit it. You’d still be stumbling around in the dark if it weren’t for me.” He plucked the book from your hands before you could react, holding it just out of reach. “What’s in here, anyway? Something for your precious Lupin?”

Your stomach twisted at the mention of Remus, but you refused to show weakness. “Give it back, Crouch,” you demanded, your voice deadly low.

He tutted, wagging the book teasingly. “Temper, temper. I’m just curious. You’re a Gryffindor, after all- so noble, so self-sacrificing. What could possibly be worth breaking the rules for? Risking your perfect little record?”

You lunged for the book, but Barty dodged easily, his laughter echoing softly in the restricted space. He glanced at the cover, raising an eyebrow. “The Layman’s Guide to Active Practical Potioneering.” His tone turned mocking. “Oh, how riveting. Let me guess- you’re planning to save the day again? What exactly are you planning to brew there, love?”

“It’s none of your business.” You snapped, trying again to grab the book. This time, he let you take it, his smirk never wavering.

“Touchy, aren’t we?” He mused, leaning against the nearest shelf. “I don’t know why you bother. Lupin’s a big boy; he can handle himself.”

You froze for a fraction of a second before stuffing the book into your bag. Was that jealousy in his tone? “You don’t know anything about him.”

“Maybe not,” Barty said casually, inspecting his nails. “But I do know you. You’ve got this little savior complex, don’t you? Always rushing in to fix everyone’s problems. It’s endearing, really.”

Your jaw tightened, his words cutting closer to the truth than you liked. “I’m not doing this for you or anyone else’s approval, so spare me your analysis.”

Barty pushed off the shelf, stepping closer once more. His voice softened, but his smirk remained. “Maybe not. But you should be careful, darling. All that heroics can get messy. And I’d hate to see you get in over your head.”

His tone was almost genuine, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. But then he gave you a wink, and the spell broke. “Don’t flatter yourself, Crouch. The only thing messy here is your personality.”

You turned on your heel, heading for the exit before he could see the faint blush creeping up your neck. His laughter followed you, echoing through the stacks. “See you around, darling. Don’t forget- if you need help, you know where to find me.”

You didn’t look back, but his words lingered long after you left the library, your heart still racing for reasons you refused to acknowledge.

Bloody git.