#not the hand brace 😔

[hero-of-the-wolf]

You’re really having a rough go. If you need to, you can slow down. It’s not good to push yourself to the point of burnout. For your wrist ice it multiple times a day and if you have a brace for your wrist it will help a lot.

Giving you some hugs. Remember to drink some water

Yeeeaaaaahh I'm okay tho, really 😭

I'm mostly just really annoyed by my wrist bc I literally have no idea what I even did to it and I NEED it bc I'm gonna be performing at the funeral and that's scary enough as is but I need to practice and actually be able to perform and sksbskhsnsbs it's the worst timing ever ough 😭😭😭😭 the pain otherwise is very very manageable and it doesn't even hurt when I'm wearing the brace, promise 🫶

[louferrignojrofficial]

okay i gotta stop typing i’m about to develop carpal tunnel or something with how much my arms and fingers hurt every damn day 😭

[orangeblossomsintheair]

A LESSON ON HUNGER | SIMON RILEY

summary : You were small. He would give you grief about it until the end of time. End of story. Well end of story till the two of you started fucking in the dead of night.

wc : 5k of pure filth

an : if yall see @keen-eyed-creature suddenly in ur likes, that's me 😔

Simon knew you were small.

Hard to miss, really, when you had to tilt your head back just to look him in the eye. He was the first to admit that it was a bit of a laugh sometimes.

But it was never something he really thought much about, not in any serious way at least.

It was a detail, like the way you tied your boots or the way your hair stuck out from under your cap. It wasn’t like being short affected your ability to pull the trigger or call in air support.

You got the job done. That was what he cared about. You could be a foot shorter and it wouldn’t make a damn difference.

Still, he couldn’t help himself.

Every now and then, he would drop a jab, something about needing a step ladder to talk to him, or how he has to stoop down like he's dealing with a kid. He had a knack for teasing, and you were an easy target.

It was harmless, though.

Just some friendly fire. You took it well, knew that it was all part of the routine. Gallows humor. Good for morale, or whatever the hell Price said. Kept things light, even if it was at your expense.

You were small. He would give you grief about it until the end of time. End of story.

Well end of story till the two of you started fucking.

He first noticed it when your hand wrapped around his cock, the tips of your fingers barely brushing each other. His breath hitched, and his cock pulsed in your grip, thick and heavy in your tiny hold.

“Bloody hell,” he hissed, mesmerized by the sight. “Look at you.”

Your eyes darted up to his face, wide and innocent, as if you didn’t know exactly what you were doing to him. His chest heaved, the tight control he usually prided himself on slipping with every stroke of your hand.

"Fuckin' tiny," he muttered again, half to himself, watching the way your hand moved over him, struggling to take him all in. He hadn’t thought he’d ever care about something like that, never thought the size difference would drive him this insane, but here you were, bringing him to the brink without even realizing it.

You started slow, pressing soft, wet kisses along the length of his cock like a damn kitten, rubbing it against our cheek and spreading his pre-cum across your face.

When your lips parted, dipped your head, the first touch of your tongue against his tip had him groaning. Hot, wet, and so fucking soft.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed, one gloved hand moving to the back of your head, the other braced against his thigh. He resisted the urge clawing at his chest that told him to shove himself deeper, to push till your throat bulged with the shape of him.

The first swipe of your tongue had him groaning, body tensing. Knuckles white, muscles straining as his hips jerked forward

You dragged your tongue slowly along the underside of his cock, the soft, wet muscle flicking over him. It swirled around the head before dipping into the slit, teasing, before tracing every vein on the underside.

Spit began to gather, dripping down his length as you worked him over, your desperation pushing you to keep going, keep pleasing him. Your doe eyes locked on his, wide and pleading, as you swallowed him as deep as you could.

“You look so fucking pretty like this,” he rasped, his voice gravelly. “Mouth all full, dripping down your chin. Bet you’d let me fuck your throat, wouldn’t you?”

You moaned around him, the vibration making him swear under his breath. He couldn’t look away. The way your lips stretched around him, your cheeks hollowing as you tried to take more of him—Ghost knew he was a ruined man.

When the blunt head of his cock hit the back of your throat, you gagged softly, pausing there, and he felt the tension in your body. His hand moved to cradle your jaw, fingers curling around it.

“Relax,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Don’t fight it. Doing so fuckin’ good for me.”

You blinked up at him, tears spilling down your cheeks, and he felt his cock throb at the sight.

“Let me fuck your mouth,” he said, voice low.

You nodded, eyes fluttering shut, but he wasn’t satisfied.

“Look at me,” he barked, tone sharpening. “Need to see you mean it.”

Your eyes opened again, glassy and wide, pupils blown. You nodded again, and he let out a dark chuckle.

“Good girl,” he muttered, his lips quirking into a smirk. “Obedient when you’ve got a cock in your mouth, huh?”

The glare you shot him would’ve been more convincing if your jaw wasn’t slack, the weight of him resting heavy on your tongue.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” His hand sliding to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. “Now, open up. Gonna make you take all of me.”

You obeyed, jaw slackening, and Ghost wasted no time. His hips rolled forward, the thick length of him pressing deep into your throat, stretching, filling.

His breath hitched as he slid deeper, the tightness of your throat trying desperately to accommodate him. He couldn’t help the groan that escaped him. A sick part of him thrilled at the way you fought to take him all the way, despite the fact that he really was too fucking big for you to handle.

He watched you for a moment, eyes fluttering as your lips met his base, tears slipping down your cheeks as you struggled to keep your breathing steady, swallowing around him.

“Shit,” he hissed, his other hand moving to cup your jaw, holding you steady. “Feel that? Feel how good you are, huh? You’re a fuckin’ mess, love. Spit everywhere, tears down your face. Fuck’s sakes, you’re perfect.”

Ghost growled under his breath, feeling you pulse around him. “..Takin’ me so well, little thing.”

He gripped your hair tighter, guiding you, forcing his cock deeper. The sounds—wet, obscene—drove him insane. You were taking all of him, your mouth and throat the perfect fit, even though it was clear you were struggling.

“Fuck, you feel so good... Perfect,” he groaned. "You're so fucking beautiful, letting me fuck your throat like this." He slammed into you again, deeper, and watched your face contort in that beautiful, desperate way, knowing you’d take every inch of him, no matter how overwhelming it was

Your hands gripped his thighs, nails digging into the fabric of his pants as you braced yourself, letting him take control. He set a brutal pace, his hips snapping forward, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth with practiced precision.

“Gonna fuck your throat ‘til you can’t think straight,” he growled, his voice dark and heavy with lust. “Gonna make you choke on it, make you feel how deep I can go.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, and you moaned around him, the sound vibrating against his cock. His head tipped back briefly, a deep groan rumbling in his chest before he forced himself to look at you again.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered, his tone brooking no argument. “Wanna see you when I come. Wanna see that pretty little face all wrecked for me.”

You obeyed, your gaze locking with his, and the intensity in your eyes nearly undid him. He could feel the heat building low in his belly, the tension coiling tighter with every thrust.

“Fuck,” he rasped, his hips stuttering as he drove deeper one last time. “Gonna fill that pretty mouth of yours. Don’t spill a fucking drop.”

And when he came, spilling hot and thick down your throat, the way you swallowed around him had him swearing again, his grip on you tightening as he rode out his release. “F-fuck- damn it, damn it-“

When he finally pulled back, his cock slipping from your swollen, spit-slick lips, he couldn’t help the crooked grin that stretched his lips at the sight of you. Messy, tear-streaked, and utterly ruined.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your chin to catch the stray drips. “Knew you could take it.”

The praise lingered in the warm air as he leaned back, watching you catch your breath. His thumb lingered at your jaw for a moment before retreating, replaced by a hand gently coaxing you to your feet.

“C’mere,” he said, tone still rough around the edges, but laced with something terrifyingly tender.

He pulled you up until you were straddling his lap, broad hands settling on your waist. The heat of his palms seeped through the thin fabric still clinging to your skin.

“Alright?” he asked, pale eyes scanning your face.

You nodded. “Better than okay.”

He shifted beneath you, guiding you closer. “Think you’ve got one more in you, sweetheart?” He spoke against your lips, eyes searching.

You swallowed, the anticipation curling low in your stomach. “I can take it,” you whispered.

The grin that spread across his face was something wicked. “That’s my girl.

With your confirmation, Ghost moved, lowering himself between your trembling thighs. He shouldered your legs apart, spreading you wide as he settled in like a man on a mission.

“G-Ghost,” you whimpered, instinctively reaching for his head as the heat of his breath teased over your cunt.

“Shh.” He looked up. “Let me return the favor, yeah?”

The first swipe of his tongue had you arching off the bed, a startled cry ripping from your throat. He groaned against you, eyes rolling back. Always tasted so good. He could cream his fucking pants just licking your pretty pussy.

You squirmed beneath him, thighs trembling as he licked a slow, deliberate stripe from your entrance to your swollen clit, a thumb spreading you open as he pressed the flat of his tongue against the bud.

As you squirmed in place, Ghost’s hands flexed, refusing to let you wriggle away for a moment of reprieve.

“Stay still,” he growled, voice muffled against your clit. “Let me enjoy this.”

His mouth worked you open slowly, licking and sucking at your clit with just enough pressure to have whimpers tumbling out of your lips.

He moved downwards, dipping his tongue into your heat before thrusting it inside, fucking you with it in deep, deliberate strokes.

The slick muscle pistoned into you like it was a cock, curling and stroking every inch of your walls, nose brushing against your clit with every movement.

Your thighs trembled around his head, but his strong hands kept them spread wide, holding you open for him.

“Ghost,” you sobbed, your hands fisting in his hair.

“Keep those legs open,” he ordered, his grip tightening on your thighs as he pushed them wider.

Your hips bucked against him instinctively, but he pinned you down as he worked his tongue deeper, faster. “Look at you,” he rasped, pulling back briefly to catch his breath, his lips glistening with your arousal. “Fuckin’ soaked for me. S’small and tight.”

You sobbed out as he latched onto your clit, sucking gently before flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud. The sharp jolt of pleasure made you cry out, back arching off the bed.

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” he groaned, his voice rough and needy as he returned to thrusting his tongue inside you. He fucked you with his mouth like a man possessed, his hands roaming over your thighs, your hips, everywhere he could reach,

When he latched onto your clit and sucked gently, you shattered. Your cry echoed in the room, your body arching as the orgasm ripped through you, shaking and gasping for air.

“There it is,” he murmured, every line in his body thick with satisfaction as he lapped up every bit of your release.

But he didn’t stop.

He growled against you, hands sliding under your thighs to lift your hips higher, giving him better access as his tongue delved deeper, dragging out your orgasm until you were sobbing beneath him.

“Too much,” you whimpered, body twitching with the aftershocks.

“Not for me.” Ghost pulled back to look at you. His pale eyes were filled with hunger and pride as he took in the sight of you. Tear-streaked, trembling, and utterly ruined.

“P-please,” you whimpered, tears pooling in your eyes as the overstimulation hit you like a tidal wave.

“Not done with you yet, love.” His tongue returned to your clit, circling the swollen bud with ruthless precision until you were sobbing beneath him, your hands weakly pushing at his shoulders.

“Ghost-”

Another climax built impossibly fast, and before you could protest, it crashed over you. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, your hands clutching at his shoulders, his hair, anything to ground yourself as he lapped at your release like a dog.

When he finally pulled back, his lips glistening and his chin slick with your release, he looked at you like you were a feast he hadn’t quite finished.

You barely had a moment to catch your breath before he was moving again, his strong hands gripping your waist as he positioned himself above you. The sheer size of him looming over you sent a thrill down your spine.

“Think you’re ready for me now, yeah?”

Ghost pressed you down against the mattress. Your thighs trembled as he pressed them further apart.

The sheer size of him left you gasping before he even moved, the head of his cock brushing against your slick entrance as he teased you.

“Relax,” he muttered, voice laced with a hunger that made your head spin. “Need you to open up for me.”

You whined, the sound barely coherent as he held you in place with a grip that bordered on bruising. He pushed forward, just enough to let the blunt tip breach you, and the stretch had you clutching at his forearms in desperation.

Your walls clenched around him instinctively, drawing a sharp hiss from his lips. “So fuckin’ tight, Jesus Christ..”

“H-hah.. too- too big-” you whimpered, clutching at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as if to anchor yourself.

“Y’can take it.” His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he bullied his way inside your pretty cunt.

His jaw tightened, burying himself deeper, head dropping to your shoulder. “You’re gonna take it.”

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes as he pressed further in, splitting you open inch by inch. The burn was sharp but his hands kept you pinned, leaving no room for escape.

“Stop squirmin’,” he ordered. His weight pressed you deeper into the mattress, his shadow covering yours entirely. “You’re only making it harder for yourself.”

Your sobs broke free as he surged forward, his cock sinking deeper into your heat. “I c-can’t,” you whimpered, tears streaming down your cheeks as you clung to him.

“You can,” he insisted, his tone softening but his pace unrelenting. His lips brushed against your temple, a stark contrast to the overwhelming force of him inside you. “Breathe, baby. I’ve got you.”

You tried to focus on his voice, the rasp of it grounding you even as your body felt like it was being torn apart. His thumb brushed over your cheek, wiping away a stray tear, before his hand drifted down to cradle your throat.

“Look at me,” he demanded. “Taking me so well, yeah? D’you feel how tight you are, hm? How perfect you’re gripping me?”

His words sent a fresh wave of heat rushing through you, and you whimpered as your body finally began to yield, the burn giving way to an ache that bordered on pleasure.

“That’s it.” Ghost’s lips curved into a grin as he watched you fall apart beneath him. “Knew you could do it. Knew this perfect little cunt could take all of me.”

Your sobs turned to broken moans as he pulled back, only to thrust forward again, burying himself to the hilt. The force of it knocked the air from your lungs, and your hands scrambled for purchase, gripping at anything to ground yourself.

“Feel that?” he rasped, his thrusts slowing down as he grinded against you. “Feel how deep I am?”

You could only nod, the words stuck in your throat as the pleasure began to build, overwhelming in its intensity.

“Good girl,” he praised.

The pressure inside you coiled tighter as he picked up the pace, the sobs spilling from your lips mingling with broken cries of his name.

You were a mess. Tear-streaked, trembling, utterly consumed by the sheer size and force of him.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he groaned, quickening as he pressed you further into the mattress. “Ruined, cryin’ for me. Takin’ everythin’ I give you.”

His words tipped you over the edge, and when you came, it was with a shattering cry that left you trembling in his arms. But he didn’t stop, didn’t even slow. Oh no, Ghost dragged you through the aftershocks and straight into the next wave of pleasure.

“Don’t stop,” you sobbed, your nails raking down his back as he growled against your neck. “Please, Ghost- don’t stop-”

“‘M not going anywhere,” he promised, pulling out of you slowly and you felt an unbearable emptiness that followed his absence. Gasping at the way your walls clenched around nothing, already missing the stretch of him.

Before you could voice your complaints, his hands were on you again, lifting you effortlessly as he shifted onto his back.

“C’mere,” he ordered, his voice rough with need, guiding you to straddle his hips. The sight of him, broad chest heaving, his cock glistening and impossibly thick, standing proudly between you, made your stomach flutter with equal parts apprehension and arousal.

“Ghost, I-“ you started, but his hands ground you in place as he pressed his forehead against your trembling body.

“Be good,” he murmured, his thumbs stroking your skin in slow, deliberate circles. “Take what you need. I’ll make it fit.”

Your breath hitched, and with his steadying hands guiding you, you reached down, positioning the thick head of his cock at your entrance.

The pressure was instant, overwhelming, as you sank down the smallest fraction.

“Bloody fuck,” he growled, his head falling back against the pillow. “Look at you. So tight, so perfect-” His words cut off in a guttural groan when you shifted your weight, trying to take him deeper.

The stretch burned, his girth spearing you open inch by inch, and you couldn’t help the broken sob that fell from your lips. “S’too- too much,” you whimpered, your thighs trembling as you hovered above him, the sheer size of him making your head spin.

“Shhh,” he cooed, though his own voice was strained, his jaw clenched tight as he fought to keep still beneath you. “Doin’ s’good, sweetheart. Just take your time. Lemme fill you up.”

You nodded shakily, nails digging into his chest as you slowly lowered yourself further, feeling every ridge and vein of him stretching you impossibly wide.

He felt endless, and the way he groaned only heightened the unbearable pleasure-pain of being split open by him.

“That’s it,” he growled, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs, urging you to take him all. “Don’t stop now. You’re almost there. Gonna take every inch, yeah?”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you finally sank down to the hilt, his cock buried so deep inside you that it felt like he was in your very core.

You let out a choked sob, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

“Fuck, look at you,” he rasped, his voice thick with awe and something darker. His gaze burned into you, watching as you struggled to adjust to his size. “So fucking tight, squeezing me like you don’ wanna let go.”

You couldn’t form words, your mind hazy and overwhelmed as he filled you completely, stretching you to your limits. He let you sit there for a moment, his hands tracing soothing patterns on your thighs as you trembled above him.

“Move,” he commanded softly, voice coaxing but firm. “Show me how good you feel, baby. Ride me.”

You whimpered, your hands splaying across his chest for balance as you lifted yourself slightly, only to sink back down again. The friction was devastating, and the stretch still burned, but the heat building in your core had you panting for more.

“That’s it,” he groaned, his fingers digging into your skin as he met you halfway with a shallow thrust that left you crying out. “Taking me so fucking well.”

Each rise and fall of your hips had him spearing you open all over again, the sheer size of him filling you in a way that made you feel utterly wrecked, utterly his. Your sobs mixed with moans as the pleasure overwhelmed you, Ghost taking over to guide your movements with a possessive grip.

“Made for this,” he growled, his voice raw as his gaze locked on the place where your bodies joined, watching as his cock disappeared inside you with every thrust. “Made for me to fuck you like this. Look at how you’re taking me- so greedy, so fucking pretty.”

The sound of your sobs only seemed to spur him on, his hands gripping your waist tighter as he thrust up into you, meeting your movements with a force that left you breathless.

“Ghost,” you whimpered, your nails raking down his chest as your thighs burned from the effort, your body trembling from the relentless pace.

“Don’t stop,” he growled, his voice a low, possessive snarl. “You’re not stopping until I feel you come around me. Wanna feel this tight little cunt squeeze me, got it?”

You nodded, unable to do anything but obey as his hands gripped your waist firmly, slamming you down on his cock with a force that had you keening.

The stretch was unbearable, your body trembling from the sheer effort of taking him. The swollen ache between your thighs was overwhelming, but the pleasure sparking through you burned brighter.

“Good girl..” He guided you to ride him faster, deeper.

Your head fell back, tears streaming down your cheeks as your body clenched around him. The first climax tore through you like a lightning strike, sudden and all-consuming, leaving you shuddering and gasping for air.

“Fuck, there it is,” he rasped, thrusting up into you, dragging the aftershocks out longer. “That’s my girl..so fucking perfect when you come for me.”

You barely had time to recover before his hand slid between your bodies, his thumb pressing down hard on your swollen clit.

Your scream echoed in the room, your hands scrambling against his chest as the sharp jolt of overstimulation hit you like a tidal wave.

“N-no!” you sobbed, trying to lift yourself off of him, but his hands held you down, refusing to let you escape.

“Don’t think so.” His thumb circled your sensitive bud in maddening, unrelenting strokes. “You’re not running from me. You’re gonna take it, all of it. Gon’ make you come over and over until you can’t think straight.”

Your body jerked uncontrollably, every nerve alight as his cock drove into you, his thumb working your clit. The relentless friction sent you tumbling headfirst into another orgasm, this one sharper, rawer.

You screamed his name, your nails digging into his shoulders as you shook in his hold, but he didn’t stop.

“That’s two,” he growled, his lips curling into a wicked grin as he watched you fall apart. “Think you’ve got another one in you, sweetheart?”

“I c-can’t,” you sobbed, tears spilling freely as your body quivered against him. “It’s too much, I c-can’t-”

“You can,” he interrupted, his voice dark and commanding as his hips snapped up again, driving his cock deeper.

His thumb pressed harder against your bud. Your thighs trembled violently, every nerve in your body raw and exposed as he pushed you toward another peak.

“You’re so sensitive,” he rasped, voice thick with satisfaction as his thumb slowed just enough to keep you on the edge. “So swollen, so perfect..”

“Ghost-!” you sobbed, voice breaking as another climax slammed into you, your walls clenching around him like a vice. The pleasure was too much, too overwhelming, and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from chasing it, your hips grinding against him despite the tears streaming down your face.

“That’s it,” he groaned, his free hand gripping your ass as he guided your movements, keeping you firmly in place. “Keep going, love. Don’t stop until I say so.”

Your body was beyond exhausted, trembling violently as his relentless pace and the constant attention on your clit drove you into the kind of pleasure that felt like madness. Every stroke of his cock, every circle of his thumb sent shockwaves through you, leaving you an incoherent mess.

“Ngh..” you whimpered, your voice breaking as your head fell forward, your hands clutching desperately at his chest. “Can’t- please-“

“But you’re being such a good girl,” he murmured, softening slightly as his hand slid from your clit to grip your waist again. “You’re taking me so well..look at how swollen and perfect you are.”

His cock throbbed inside you, and as you slumped against his chest, he leaned up to press a kiss to your tear-streaked cheek, his voice a rough whisper in your ear.

“Think you’ve got one more?”

Your body trembled uncontrollably, tears streaking down your face as you shook your head weakly, barely able to form words. “N-no more.. please, Ghost… it’s too much,” you sobbed, breaking as you slumped against him, completely spent.

But he wasn’t having it.

“Thought you wanted to be good for me?”

Effortlessly, he lifted you off his still-throbbing cock, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness, your thighs trembling as they struggled to hold your weight.

“Shhh,” he murmured, his voice deceptively soothing as he shifted you, his large frame easily maneuvering you like you weighed nothing. “You’re not done yet, baby. I’ve got you.”

“Ghost, no-” you whimpered, trying to squirm away as he laid back fully, his broad shoulders pressing into the mattress.

But he didn’t give you a choice.

His hands tightened on your thighs, pulling you forward until you were straddling his chest. The heat of his skin against yours made you shiver, your swollen, oversensitive core throbbing as he moved you higher.

“Be a good girl and sit,” he ordered, eyes locking onto yours with a predatory intensity that made your breath hitch.

You shook your head frantically, tears pooling in your eyes as you whimpered, “Ghost… I’m too sensitive, I-”

His grip on your thighs tightened, silencing your protests.

Before you could protest further, he pulled you up, positioning you directly over his face. The heat of his breath against your soaked, swollen folds made you cry out, your hands flying to his shoulders for balance as you tried to lift yourself away.

“Don’t run from me.” He forced you down, lowering you onto his waiting mouth.

The first swipe of his tongue against your overstimulated clit sent a sharp jolt through you, and you sobbed, your body jerking as the overwhelming sensation threatened to pull you under. “Ghost, Ghost-“”

But he didn’t stop.

His tongue was relentless, licking and sucking at your sensitive bud, his hands holding you firmly in place no matter how much you tried to squirm away.

“That’s it,” he whispered between long, torturous strokes. “Don’t you dare run from me. You’re gonna take everything.”

Your thighs shook violently on either side of his head, your body trembling as wave after wave of unbearable pleasure crashed over you.

You sobbed, tears streaming down your face as his tongue circled your clit mercilessly, his mouth devouring you like a man starved.

Ghost snarled, his grip tightening as he dragged you even closer, his tongue plunging deep inside you before returning to your swollen, throbbing bud. “You’re gonna come for me again, and you’re gonna let me taste every fucking bit of you.”

You couldn’t hold back the scream that tore from your throat as another climax ripped through you, your body convulsing violently as his mouth pushed you over the edge.

Your hands tangled in his hair, desperate and needy, as you sobbed his name, begging for mercy even as your hips ground against his face.

Finally, he slowed, his tongue gentle now as he lapped at you lazily, his hands sliding up and down your thighs in soothing strokes. “There you go,” he murmured, his voice softer now, though the satisfaction in his tone was unmistakable. “That’s my pretty girl.”

Your body slumped forward, your chest heaving as tears streamed down your face. He let you collapse against him, his arms wrapping around you protectively as he kissed your temple, his breath warm against your skin.

“I told you you could take it,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as he held you close.

[eclipseslayer]

A HARD DECISION

• OUTLAW!TOJI FUSHIGURO X F!READER SMUT ONESHOT

• SUMMARY: Toji Fushiguro steps into a saloon after making a kill, and when he sees you, he knows he has to persuade you so he can bunk with you, which, luckily, isn't too hard.

• CW: Penatrative sex, mentions of fingering, pulling out (😔).

• WC: 2kish.

Toji comes to a standstill; his boots clank against the dry, desert dirt with a thud. Heavy boots shift into the dirt beneath him as Toji spreads his legs, coming into a unwavering position as his hands slowly find their way to hover trepidatiously over his guns that sit in their holsters that are strapped to each thigh.

His hands curl into fists, and then they unfurl slowly, while green eyes stare down his opponent that stands about twenty feet from him. Anxiety rages through his hands as he recites the mantra in his head,

Kill 'em like you always do, Toji.

then, suddenly, his hands are still once confidence fills his body. His eyes dart to the left and to the right, and sees that practically the whole town is lined up—leaning against their buggies and the railing of the storefronts, watching this showdown between him and his opponent.

He grins. Looks like I gotta show to put on.

He lets out a slow breath after collecting his thoughts, while his eyes return back to his opponent standing far from him, feeling tension rise in the air as tumbleweeds pass between them.

Suddenly, the tension breaks when Toji's eyes narrow to his opponent's hand, which quickly slips into his holster to retrieve his gun, but, Toji doesn't even give his opponent a chance to grasp the handle before acting, demonstrating his quick reflexes as Toji quickly slings his guns onto his fingers; whips them out of their holsters, and grips the handles firmly. His thumbs flick the safety off like blowing out a candle, and he lights it again when his index fingers quickly press the trigger.

Bam, bam, bam!

Three shots fire, and each of them hit his opponent, making him jolt with each shot until he collapses onto the ground.

Toji sighs, feeling the anxiety from earlier quickly fade, and a grin appears on his face while he watches the smoke rise from his guns.

He pulls his bandana cowl down; blows out the gunsmoke, and gives it a quick whiff, enjoying the satisfying moment from the kill, and then places his guns back into their holsters before pulling the cowl back up.

He sighs and moves his head around once he feels relaxed enough and sees that the crowd has dissipated, mumbling to themselves as they go back to their daily routines, meanwhile, Toji rubs the back of his head, figuring he could go for a drink.

He makes his way to the saloon, boots clinking as he makes his way. He pushes the swinging doors open with a big boot and steps into the saloon with a thud.

Luckily, everyone stays busy in the crowded saloon, not bothering to look at Toji as they play card games, or are flirting with the saloon girls, or are drunk off their asses.

He dips his head, and pulls the brim over his eyes as he makes his way through the loud, bustling saloon, shoving and pushing past people. He steps over a few drunkards passed out onto the floor before he finally reaches the bar, where he sighs once he sits upon a bar stool.

His eyes flick over to the bartender, which, surprisingly was a woman, who was dressed quite scantily as she wore a her skirt quite short as it met her knees, and a pretty, colorful corset covered the top half of her body. He raised an eyebrow, and a smirk pried at his lips from underneath the cowl.

You seem to spot Toji as you quickly whip your head around. You look at him for awhile—probably judging his appearance—and then make your way over.

You give Toji a cheery smile and brace the countertop with your forearms.

"Well, aren't you that fella that was outside just now, gunnin' down that other fella?" You grin and clasp your hands together.

Amused, Toji chuckles. "Yes ma'am," Toji replies, simply.

"Well, that was quite the shootin' I saw out there. I was amazed, honestly," you grin and begin to draw shapes on the countertop. "We don't see much of that 'round these parts. Why'd ya shoot that fella anyway?"

Toji sighs, a groan begs to slip from his lips but he withholds it, just to keep the lady pleased. "Got told to kill 'em. Simple as that."

Your eyes widen suddenly and you gasp. Your hands grip the edge of the counter as you suddenly bounce excitedly.

"Oh my Lord! Are you... what do ya call 'em? One of them uh... you know..." You lean in, "...assassins?" You whisper before leaning back. You reach behind yourself and grabs a bottle of whiskey and an empty glass, and start pouring while you keep your gaze on Toji.

Toji watches her as you pour the drink. He nods. "...Maybe. What are ya gonna do if I am?" He replies with a slight edge to his tone, eyeing you once you finish pouring the whiskey. You slide the glass over to him and shrug simply.

"Dunno. Just find it fascinatin' I suppose." You brace the counter again.

Toji pulls the glass toward him, and pulls down his cowl and then takes a sip. He furrows his brow as the amber liquid drowns his tastebuds—tasting nothing but a harsh, smoky flavor—and then travels smoothly down his throat. He sighs after he swallows.

"Is that right?" Toji mutters before taking another sip.

He furrows his brow again once he hears you gasp.

"Oooh! Ya got a scar on your lip..." You say, ignoring Toji's previous question as you point at it. You lean forward, your elbows resting on the countertop and lean your chin onto your palms. "I like it."

Toji's eyes widen at your comment, as it was the last thing he expected from you, although, you are a saloon girl, so he supposes he should've been able to guess it.

He swirls his drink around in his glass. "Really? Ya like it, doll?"

Your eyes widen at the sudden nickname and you nod slowly. "Yeah. Mmhmm. Looks dangerous..." you lean in a bit closer. "I like danger."

Toji finds this conversation all too amusing as a grin crawls onto his lips. He takes another swig of his drink.

"Yeah? Do you now? You know uh..." He leans in, closer to you, and he whispers into your ear. "I'm not even supposed'ta be here, doll."

You pull back a bit, your eyes twinkling. "Really? How come?"

His eyes shift up to the poster that's nailed to the wall behind her and he nods his head at it. "Take a gander."

You freeze for a second, and then slowly you turn around. Your eyes widen even more and you feel your heart suddenly pound in your chest when you feel so quickly gobsmacked.

A poster hangs up for the wanted fugitive of Toji Fushiguro, with a prize worth a million American dollars.

You swallow thickly, and then your body turns itself back around as you make eye-contact with the man in the poster.

"I could turn you in and be rich," you mutter, your words rolling off your tongue in a moment of realization as you stare at the man in front of you.

"You could," Toji takes the final sip of his drink before slamming the glass down onto the countertop, right next to your hand. He leans in, the rich smell of whiskey on his breath as it graces your ear, "or, ya could gimme a place'ta stay, sweetheart."

—

It was a hard decision, really.

So hard, in fact, that you whine as you sink down onto Toji's hard cock.

"That's it... yep... jus' like that, sweetheart," Toji murmurs as his large, calloused hands find your hips and grips them tightly, and begins to guide you up and down on his cock.

Your head is spinning. Out of the many times you've brought a man up to the room above the saloon, you've never felt a man treat you this good.

So far, you've been fingered. Twice.

Now, he sits your fucked-out brain onto his big, thick cock that nearly splits you in half, and has your legs wanting to clamp at his sides, but, Toji notices this and moves his hands to your thighs to keep them spread.

"Nuh-uh, none of that, now, doll, keep 'em spread," he commands, and he punctuates it with a harsh slap to your ass, making you whine.

"Toji!" You squeak, and your eyes roll back.

"That's my name, girlie," a wry grin appears on his lips and he pulls his hand back again before smacking your ass another time. He grunts as he feels you pulse around his cock.

"Keep, sayin' it. Like it when ya scream my name when you're stuffed with my cock."

Slap!

"Toji!" You moan, loudly again and Toji lifts up his hips, and begins to thrust harshly into you as you stay on top of him.

"There we go," he coos in your ear. "Just like that."

"Toooojiiiii!" You moan with every thrust, as each movement makes his cock hit the back of your g-spot.

It moves in and out, and it fills you up so deliciously, leaving no room for questions simply because you feel him so squished and snug within your walls, as if he's scraping inside you, digging for something. Maybe, digging for gold as he hits that spot that sends shocks through your body.

"Got a pretty mouth on ya, sweetheart. Keep moanin' my name like that."

"Tojiiii!" This time it was more whiney than the last as your breath falls short. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he continues to hit that spot, over, and over, and over, and over again.

It's like a rollercoaster, except, you're going all the way up every single time Toji thrusts in and out of you, and now, you feel as if you're teetering over the edge.

"Toji I'm—"

He interrupts you with another slap to your ass which leaves him grunting as he feels you squeeze and throb around him. Fuck. You're squeezing his cock so tightly that it makes his balls ache with a need to release.

"I know, sweetheart. Just... haaa... fuck, fuck, I'm close, too," he groans, unable to keep it in any longer because of how good your squeezing him.

"Toji!"

It was your last, final warning as you feel the rollercoaster fly down it's tracks, making you squeeze and convulse around Toji as you finally cum. White liquid gushes out of you and runs onto Toji's cock, making him groan loudly.

"Fuck, fuck, I'm cumming too—" he curses and, with a grunt, he grips the globes of your asscheeks and lifts you off of him, and spills onto his stomach as he finally cums.

You're both a panting, wet mess as you come off of your orgasms, just laying against each other. There's a good moment of silence before you speak up again, murmuring,

"After another round, I'm getting rich today."

[lust4lore]

(finnick + cockwarming pretty please i’ll give you my firstborn child)

anon, i’m in love with you. take all of the forehead kisses. all of them. (btw, call me when that child is born!)

A/N: originally, this was gonna be something where reader and finnick are at a party and it’s kind of public, he’s a little meaner, but i think voyeurism as well as denying his girl anything she wants is a little ooc for him so i chose this instead. i still have the outline of the og, though, so if you’d be interested in reading that and are willing to excuse it lmk!

CW: cockwarming— mind you, fluffy cockwarming, because it’s finn!

MDNI, not proofread i cba 😔🫶

finnick odair would do anything for you. shit, he’s braved hell and back twice just for the chance to catch a glimpse of you again. you’re his world, the love of his life, and the last thing he wants is to see you upset.

which is why, when you entered your shared bedroom with a quivering bottom lip and glistening eyes, he dropped everything immediately.

“hey, hey, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he had asked gently, brows pinching together as concern started seeping in. he beckoned you over to where he sat with open arms, and you gladly went. he pulled you onto his lap, warm hands cupping your face as he searched your eyes for any indication of what the problem could be. “talk to me,” he murmured, anxiety forming a pit in his stomach when you didn’t give him an immediate response.

it had been a long day. all the noise, all the people, all the feelings had gotten to you, and you just needed finnick. needed to turn off your brain in the way only he could. “jus’ had a busy day, too much going on and-” you sniffed, looking up into those sea green eyes and feeling a distant pang of guilt at the panic that was rising in them. “i need you, finn,”

realization flickered across his features and his lips parted before he pressed them together again, his gaze shifting from worried to conflicted. finnick never found it easy to deny you anything— and this wasn’t even something he wanted to say no to— but he had deadlines to fulfill, things that he couldn’t put off any longer. you knew that, you did, but you really were aching for whatever piece of him you could get.

and so, you end up here, still sat in his lap as he slowly presses into you, a quiet whine falling from your lips at the stretch. your face buries itself into his neck, hands bracing his shoulders. “finn,” your voice comes out strained and desperate, just above a whisper as you sink down onto him. “m’right here, sugar, i got you,” his hands rest on your hips, lightly squeezing them in encouragement. you continue to whimper as you take the rest of him, adjusting to the size. “i know, honey, i know,” he soothes, one of his hands coming up from your hips to rub your back.

a few minutes in, you’re a bit more mollified. your thoughts come to a slow, sticky pace, and suddenly, nothing seems so loud anymore. all that’s left in your head is finnick finnick finnick and the comfortable weight of him inside of you. “this what you needed, pretty girl? feel better?” his voice is low against your ear and you give a small nod, because yes, it’s exactly what you needed, but your words are kind of failing you at the moment.

you stay like that for god knows how long, his arm wrapped around your waist as he continues to work, your forehead resting on his shoulder. eventually, though, you shift a little, and it’s just enough to cause his cock to graze that sweet spot inside of you. his muscles tense underneath you as you tighten around him and he makes a sound in between a sigh and a groan, picking you up as though you weigh nothing. “what’re you doing?” you ask, your voice soft and dazed as he sets you down on the bed, hands slipping underneath your shirt and roaming further up as he starts trailing kisses down your neck. “taking care of my girl,” he tells you, and, well,

you’ll have to start having bad days more often.

[starminzoo]

╭──────────────────✎

╰─▗ ▘➤𖥸 please baby

warnings: face sitting (obv), mingi is asleep but everything is done under consent, cursing, just wow writing this made me horny be careful 😔, hair gripping

you laid wide awake in your bed with your boyfriend lying beside you snoring away, it was still too early to get up and start your day so you laid there. eyes staring up at the ceiling with no interest but you were grumpy and why would you ask? because you were horny like incredibly horny that was the first reason why you were up so early you had tried to bring yourself to relief with your fingers but it was no where helpful to bring you close to the release you wanted. your eyes moved away from the ceiling and to your boyfriend staring at him your mind went back to the conversation you had with him a few days ago (short summary that if any of you was needy and the other was sleeping you guys had consent to use them for your pleasure) so you thought about it contemplating if you should take an action or not mostly because you were shy, but the more you stared at his lips and his perfect nose the desire to have his face buried deep in your cunt made your find fuzzy and inner thighs wet due to your leaking arousal so a few more minutes of staring at him you made your final decision.

fortunately he was already on his back but his face was sideways so you turned his head facing the ceiling but now you hovered over his face, both your thighs were around his neck, his button up shirt you wore to bed was clutched in you hands soft gasp left your mouth as you saw the view beneath you warmth crawled all over your body mind cloudy with need. fuck this was so hot you never knew this position could leave you this breathless and you hadn't even done anything. soft snores left his mouth which directly fanned over your wet cunt resulting in soft moans from your mouth, slowly you lowered yourself on his mouth as his lips came in contact with your cunt soft gasps left your mouth, you didn't dared to look down but braced yourself holding onto the headboard and started to roll your hips gently "fuck baby please wake up I need you" you threw your head back, one hand now tangling in your hair pulling at your roots just like how mingi did , you unconsciously began to move faster (basically humping his face) eager to reach your high soo too lost in the pleasure your dismissed the movements occuring beneath you. mingi couldn't grasp the situation so he abruptly opened his eyes to the marvelous view you provided him, it took him a few seconds to register what was happening and boy was he glad for the it.

he bought his hands around your hips pushing you completely down on his mouth, as he started to suck and lap up at your juices groaning as he did you yelped at the sudden sensation "please mingi please I am soo close please baby" you pulled your head back and stared down at him, eyes blown away and fixated on you as he rapidly lapped up on your cunt , your hand tangled in his hair slightly tugging to assure him that he was doing amazing as you were not in your right mind to even form a sentence, the knot in your stomach tightened by each passing second and then it finally snapped, your shrieked and thrashed above him trying to remove his mouth from your cunt as the pleasure full waves striked you in full swing but he was too engrossed in it and the tightened his grip around you more. as you came down from your high his arms released you resulting in you falling to his side face first in the bed with your legs twitching like crazy "the best fucking way to wake up, thank you baby" he murmured against your head his morning voice raspy and low but you couldn't register his words too immersed in the aftereffects of the immense orgasm so you just hummed and allowed him wrap his arms around you falling deep into sleep.

i don't go to sleep, i cum too sleep ;)

[sim0nril3y]

Helloooo, I love your work!

The breeding kink drabble made me do a think 🤔

What if you find baby pictures of simon (just be delusional w me here pls🫠)

And he's so cute and chonky frowning at the camera 😭

So you're poking his cheeks and pouting because they're not squishy anymore and asking him to turn smol again 😔

And he snorts and makes a deal to give you a chonky baby to coo over 🤭😏sjjehehe bye💞

Note: THIS REQUEST IS FREAKING ADORABLE! Love it, love it, love it. Hope that it held up to what you were thinking! Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), established relationship, pregnancy talk, talk of starting a family, canon-typical swearing.

There was a lot of things that were surprising about living with Simon but the discovery of a small shoebox full of pictures of him throughout his childhood was certainly shocking. It felt like you sat there for hours sifting through each of the pictures, fulling appreciating just how cute he looked like as a chubby little baby, becoming a toddling toddler and then finally a wild child.

It was the pictures of Simon as a baby that you couldn’t stop obsessing over. He was absolutely adorable, chubby little legs, chubby little arms, chubby cheeks. Oh, the sight of it alone was sending you spiralling into an overwhelming feeling of baby fever. Obviously, he had grown into a handsome, sturdy, hardworking man, but you couldn’t help but wonder if he was to give you a child if they would be just as chunky as he was.

“What you looking at?” A voice came from behind you, glancing over your shoulder then and attempting to hide the pictures back into the shoebox. “What the…” He snatched them all from your hands quickly. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing? You snooping through my things?”

Indignantly you answered. “No.” Almost hurt by the accusation. “I… stumbled across them and I’m naturally a curious person.” Then shrugging with your nose held high. “I don’t snoop as you put it…”

A hard huff came from Simon, beginning to put the photos away back into the box. “But Simon…” You pick up another photo of him as a baby, sat surrounded by toy trains but still scowling into the camera. “Look at how adorable you are in these photos~” You cooed, looking at it closely and then back at him. “That is the exact same face you make now when I take a picture of you!”

Simon grumbled a few cuss words under his breath. “Well, maybe not the exact same…” Then reaching up to cup and pinch his cheek. “Looks like you lost some of that baby fat~” He gifted you a false smile, snatching the phone from your fingers and placing it into the box, but this only lead you to grab another and cooing dramatically all over again. “Simon, I just… I cannot get over how fucking adorable you were when you were a baby.”

His fingers braced onto the same photo you were holding and leaning in behind you Simon pressed a small kiss to your temple, muttering in your ear. “How about…” You felt him smirk. “How about if we put these photos away and never talk about them again, I’ll give you a chubby little baby to coo over?” He nibbed at your earlobe.

A warm shiver ran down your spine, quirking a brow and saying. “You mean…” “I mean…” He slipped the photo from your fingers. “I’ll bend you over this fucking table and pump you full until you’re knocked up… that’s what I mean.” Seconds later the photos were stored away safely and you were bent over the table exactly as Simon had promised.

Masterlist | Ask | 08-12-2023

[merakiui]

Wolf Sebek,,,, and bunny darling,,, waaaaa Mera you never fail to deliver !!! Just thinking about them is making me giggle

Their first time together must've been so messily awkward... The size difference between a wolf and a bunny (even if they're not the actual animal haha) is quite big... Both of them just staring thinking that it's definitely not gonna fit !

Poor darling being nervous, while Sebek is just an embarrassed mess. And it's so bad he even got more hard...! Please don't mind him as he starts grinding his dick between your legs, darling 😔 yes he'll cum like that over your tummy... Didn't even need to find out if he does fit because just thinking about it and seeing his darling named was enough to send him over the edge

But it's okay because like the devoted knight he is, he will repay you the favor tenfold!! And of course, he'll make it fit (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

aaaaa yes!!! >w< Sebek who fucks between your thighs and cums all over your tummy, burning up with embarrassment because it was so quick. Surely he can do better than that!! He just,,, doesn't want to hurt a small thing like you. HMPH. As expected, bunnies are just so small and weak and frail. >:( but then he's getting hard all over again when you try to wrap your hands around his dick and you can't fit all of him in your warm, wet mouth..... and he thinks about how tight it's definitely going to be inside you. And when he accidentally cums down your throat he flounders and insists you needn't swallow it, but you do (nearly every drop) and there's a bit dripping from your lips and ohhhhh... here he goes again, getting pathetically hard over you.

Sebek who can't even put it in because you're just so cute. OTL the head of his cock is prodding at your hole and you're bracing yourself for it, your eyes squeezed shut and face scrunched up, and he's just watching you twitch and shake... uuuwaaa do you even realize how cute you are?? You're a nightmare (read: dream) for a predator like him, who can't resist your pretty scent and soft bunny pussy that leaks an obscene amount of slick... have you no shame!!!! Take responsibility for this (his aching dick and these feelings that he doesn't even recognize are feelings of love)!!!! >_<

Sebek who can only fuck between your thighs or against your tummy because he fears that once he puts it inside he'll lose his control and hurt you because he'll probably fuck you with the intent to breed you full of an entire litter, and he can't help it!! It's your fault his instincts go haywire whenever he's around you. The most awkward wolf when it comes to sex...... maybe things will be different when you're in heat and you're begging for him to put it in, and you're so wet and Sebek just knows it's over for him the minute it fits (even worse if it just barely fits because then your size difference becomes even more apparent). orz orz

[capquinn]

cant stop thinking putting quinn in the dog house for something he did and him being super clingy and yeah😔😔(im down bad for this man)

STOP he’d be a freaking nightmare to deal with in the dog house and you’d get no satisfaction out of it 😭😭😭

So the thing about Quinn is that he doesn’t mess up often — not in the big ways, at least. So when he does, it hits him like a freight train. He’s not the kind of guy to brush it off or pretend it didn’t happen; he feels it. Deeply. Which is probably why, after whatever dumb thing he’d done, he’d been moping around the house like a kicked puppy for days.

And it wasn’t like you’d slammed a door or screamed at him when it happened. You’d just went quiet. Pulled away. You didn’t even mean to — it was just instinct. But he noticed, of course he did, because Quinn notices everything when it comes to you. And the worst part? You didn’t yell. You didn’t even seem angry. You just looked… hurt.

And that gutted him.

He’d tried giving you space at first, thinking maybe that’s what you wanted. But Quinn’s not a man built for distance. Not from you, atleast. So by day two, he was trailing after you like a lost child, his big, stupid, guilty eyes following you around the house, looking for any sign of forgiveness.

“Need any help with dinner?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“I can chop the onions? Or, uh, wash the dishes after?”

“I’ve got it, Quinn.”

It was killing him. Every clipped sentence, every soft sigh chipped away at him bit by bit. And yeah, maybe you weren’t outright ignoring him, but your responses were just polite enough to make him feel the weight of the distance between you. The worst kind of punishment, because it wasn’t really punishment at all — it was just the consequence of hurting someone you love.

By day three, he was in full-on grovel mode. Apologies spilling out of him whenever you so much as glanced his way. Little touches — on your shoulder, your hand, your waist — tentative and quick, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed anymore. And the kicker? He started leaving you notes. Notes. Like he was a middle schooler trying to get his crush back.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re right. I was a jerk.”

“I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

They’d pop up everywhere — on the fridge, on your pillow, even in your bag when you were heading out the door. And it wasn’t even annoying; it was just… Quinn. Pathetic in the most endearing way, his guilt so genuine it practically radiated off him.

When he finally couldn’t take it anymore, he cornered you in the kitchen, his hands shoved into his pockets, his shoulders hunched like he was bracing for impact.

“I hate this,” he muttered, his voice quiet but steady. “I hate that I hurt you. I hate that you can’t even look at me without…” He trailed off, his brow furrowing. “I’ll fix it. Whatever it takes. Just tell me how.”

And how could you stay mad at that? At the man who looked at you like you hung the stars, who was so bad at being in trouble because the thought of being out of your good graces was unbearable to him?

You didn’t say anything right away, just stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his middle, pressing your forehead against his chest. His arms came around you instantly, like he’d been waiting for it, and you felt the tension in his body melt away as he buried his face in your hair.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured again, his voice breaking slightly, and this time, you didn’t just hear the words — you felt them.

“I know,” you said softly, and the weight of it all seemed to lift in that moment.

Quinn would hold you there for as long as you let him, his grip firm but careful, like he was still afraid you might slip away. And when you finally pulled back, his eyes would search yours, full of hope and relief and that quiet, unshakable love that made forgiving him the easiest thing in the world.

[wombywoo]

Hello!!

I wanted to ask if you would be willing to share how you go about finding the references for the injuries you depict in your work? Your pieces where the CoD boys are sporting injuries, fresh and old, are always so lifelike and to my untrained eye seem entirely medically correct.

I have been trying my hand at drawing the boys retired and resting as well, but I’m finding it difficult to decide what work injuries to add and how to find the respective references.

How do you decide what injuries to portray? And how do you go about finding the reference material?

Your huge fan, amustikas

Oooh ok ok! I'm gonna post my answer publically because I think others would find this interesting too!

To preface, I am definitely NOT a medical professional, and as such, a lot of the stuff I choose to depict in my art is not so much..ah, medically accurate as it is....aesthetically pleasing 🤭

I'll start with scars, as a lot of us enjoy slashing up Simon's face with them, lol. Generally, I'll do a cursory google image search for the type of scar I'm looking for (be warned, these can be graphic) with searches like 'burn scar' 'surgery scar' etc. But I find that for things like cuts and lacerations, real-life scars are a bit innocuous and lame 🤷‍♀️ Unfortunately not everyone's skin wants to retain that perfect slash look™️😔

So what I usually end up referencing are costume prosthetic scars ✨

As you can see, they're pretty gnarly:

And you definitely don't have to go this intense, but I find that the dramatic, carved-like appearance of these translate better to art than a realistically healed wound 🤙

The other thing to consider is the prevalence of injuries in the military. From what I've gathered, the most common will be back/shoulder/limb injuries, just a general fucking up of the whole musculoskeletal system in general due to constant overuse 🤕 Hearing loss, shrapnel/blast/burn injuries are also common, as well as all the negative psychological effects :') goooood times (not)

I think it's neat to look up real-life examples of these things, but it can get a bit intense if you're squeamish...

SafeSearch is OFF, the horrors are REal 😳

So yeah...I tend to tone things down, all things considered...😅

For this particular piece:

I researched broken humerus injuries and treatment 👍 Poor boy 🥺(Yes, I am aware that I consumed entire articles and did a shit ton of research about this just to go ahead and put a female's x-ray in this fucking picture sdfghjkl rip💀😭)

But here you can see the actual process for applying the brace for this particular injury:

Neat, eh?

When I draw Johnny with a knee brace, it's usually a real authentic one you can buy on amazon:

Product placement blast!!!💥✨ Bezos, where is my cut?? 🫰

As for ones like this:

I tend to just...scatter some wounds around and patch them up accordingly, lol. Bruising around the eyes is common with any head injury, and surgical stitching will offer a nice puckered skin effect mmm 👌 (I swear I'm normal abt this)

I'm sure the medical malpractice lawsuits are stacking up for me now, but again--it's usually more about the ✨visuals✨

My parting advice would be--go nuts! Feel free to maim and mutilate and mangle to your heart's content 🥰

Thank you for the question, Amustikas! I love your art as well 💗🫶

[tadpolesonalgae]

Can’t Bring Myself to Hate You - Part 11

Pairing: Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sister!Reader

A/N: I restarted this about four times—re-wrote the last few sentences for about half an hour. Also I was so excited to write Eris again but he wouldn’t fit in this chapter 😔

Warnings: sexual assault, Bas and his bloody knuckles, Azriel

Word Count: 5,830

-Part 10- -Part 12-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Azriel is going to die.

He’s going to die, and it will be at your hand.

Silence echoes through your mind, the world filled with dark blues and dismal greys—the colours of rainclouds and heavy fog over a midnight river. While the air is warm, ice prickles the layer beneath your skin, seemingly caught in your clothes, captured in your flesh. The perpetual cold of the mortal lands perhaps never fully having left the marrow of your bones.

At the table you sit still, trying to silence your mind to focus on the task at hand. You don’t want to be thinking about that right now. Not today.

Brow pulls together, lips twisting down as the bone of your thumb presses to the line between your eyes, pushing away the pressure.

Ease out a breath, shoulders slumping, muscles draining away as the door is closed on the world. Locked cozily within the dark quiet of the open kitchen.

The last time you’d sat here feels like months ago, presents stacked upon the table with a pretty cake to tuck into. Now there’s nothing to offer but a meagre cupcake, a lone candle put sadly into the spongy head you hadn’t even paid for—it had been a sample, someone giving out free little things so none of the food would go to waste.

It isn’t even decorated, aside from the thin waxy stick the House had offered up.

Lower lip curls, scowling with hot eyes at the small cake.

You stare for a long while, vision blurring every so often before it’s cleared away by a disciplinary blink. Loathing carved between your ribs, twisting and slicing, but never ending. A muscle flickers in your jaw, before finally shifting into motion, sitting straighter.

This night isn’t about you, and you’ll be damned if you make it so.

Breathing deeply, the wooden figurine is placed on the table, palm damp and cool without it’s warmth in your hand. The maiden looks on at the small cupcake, disappointed, pretty flowers drooping in elegant fingers. The skirts of are caught frozen in motion, the hem lifting from her ankles, the graceful sweep of hair being pulled gently toward the candle, as if the breeze is luring her in.

Eyes stare at the sight, and you have to sit back in your chair. Observing the scene, how small and meagre it is for something that deserves much more.

When the world blurs this time, you don’t blink it away, letting it fill and swell. Break over the edge of picked-thin lashes.

Slowly, you lean forward, picking up the light box of matches, taking one out, and striking it against the abrasive card. Fire flares before dimming, wisps of smoke curling from the glowing light, putting a pleasant scent into the room as you lower it to the candle, spreading the scant glow. With a single flick of your hand, the flame is put out, sending up a poor last signal with its diminishment, glowing weakly, before finally extinguishing.

Inky blues and grey-blacks dim the already sparse light, encroaching on the small patch of light like wolves circling a small, run-down hut. Waiting for the first sign of dilapidation before pouncing, sharp canines sinking into the soft, fleshy centre.

Your head hangs, forearms braced on to table either side the little show. Fingers curl, pressing into the now-soft skin, callouses from the days of wood-chopping and frostbite softened by a single dip into freezing cold water. Murky and depthless.

Bringing forth irrevocable change.

————

Azriel’s wings stretch out over his chair, the muscles rippling, shoulders working free of the tension before standing from his desk.

For what ever reason, the House has decided he should get his own food for tonight, evening long since passed with the days becoming shorter and shorter. Light waning, the dark sidling closer the deeper into autumn time flows. Like clockwork, shadows skitter off down the hallway, floating along floorboards and dipping beneath rugs, settling at the darkened threshold of her door. No light warms the gap, and habitually they listen out for the soft sighs of breathing, forgetting the enchantment that’s been placed on the room.

They hurry back, curling around his ear, delivering the information seamlessly as he makes his way silently down the dim halls. He can see perfectly fine in the night—there’d be no point to lighting a candle.

Strain remains tight in his shoulders, having finished reading through Cass’ letter as well as the dozens of other reports monitoring various changes and shifts in courts. Other things to deal with, to allocate time and resources to, seamlessly shifting his network of spies to target and attend to the more prominent catches in his web.

He doubts he’ll be able to catch even a wink tonight, a tight pulse in his chest warning him of sleep.

————

The breath exhales softly, staring at the lone flame, flickering dimly in the overbearing darkness, and you can’t help but think of your youngest sister. The wane light in the wintry forrest, battered by icy winds and freezing frosts.

Calming the beat of your heart, you press your palms together, leaning forward so the knuckle of your thumbs slot above the bridge of your nose. Head bowing toward the candle, eyes sliding shut, keeping the pressure at bay.

“Happy birthday, dad,” you whisper.

Already the edges of your mouth tremble, but you try to stay firm, sucking in a shaky breath. Blurred memories of the war begin seeping back in, the damp smell of blood and sickness, mixed with sweat and leather. Slowly lower your hands, palms pressing flat against the table as you look at the flickering light. The miniature wood carving bought in memory of his carpentry.

“I miss you,” you murmur, voice wobbling in the silence. “It’s been difficult since you’ve gone. Difficult for a while now.” Throat rolls, shifting in your seat, spine straightening. “Feyre’s doing well though. As much as I can tell, anyway. She’s had a baby too, did you know? I don’t know if you’re still able to watch us anymore, so sorry if you’re all caught up—I just thought might as well be on the safe side, and I don’t know what else to talk about besides them.”

Tongue darts out to wet your lips, breathing softly, calming the emotion in your chest. “He’s called Nyx, and he looks just like them.” The flame blurs, light dripping out in dots through the room, and you quickly wipe your eyes. “She’s been busy with him—I think she’s been taking him out on walks through Velaris every now and again when he wakes up early, though sometimes the others take on some tasks. I know Mor likes having him around, and even Amren has a soft spot for him already.” The corners of your mouth tug down, head lowering as you stare into the flame. “I think she’s doing well, after all this time. She can stand on her feet.”

Night-kissed memories float up through the fog, of crunching snow and steaming blood, dribbling out of a doe carcass.

“Elain’s good too,” you manage, attention flicking to the wooden maiden. “I think her and Lucien have begun getting along better, or at least not as awkward as they once were. I went with her to visit him a while back—to the old human lands, and—” You fumble, tripping over your words. “Do you know it all worked out?” You ask quietly. “I must’ve told you last year, but just in case I didn’t: we won. The war, I mean.” Vision blurs again, blinking away the dampness.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there, dad,” you whisper, lip trembling. “I know it’s morbid, and maybe if I had been there, I would have wished I wasn’t, but Nesta was, and Feyre was there too, and Elain got to… They got to see you again.” The first tear splashes onto the wooden grain, and you hastily wipe it away, fearing it might stain somehow. “I wish I’d gotten to see you again before you went away,” you mumble, swallowing thickly. “I miss you a lot. And they’re all doing well, and getting better, and…”

Take in a deep breath, lungs stuttering, hauling in quivering pulls of air. Dip your head slightly.

“They’re doing well,” you whisper, nodding to yourself. Repeating it in your mind.

“I think you’d be happy with them.”

————

Shadows swirl at his wings, shifting as they dip ahead into the kitchen, skittering back with their message. She’s in there, sat at the table.

Azriel pauses in the hallway, debating the merits of bumping into her at such a late hour. He remembers how poorly his last late-night interaction went, and is frankly disinclined to revisit the memory on any level. The softness of Elain’s skin still registered in some chamber of his mind, laying dusty and untouched for some time, unable to bring himself to quite take it back out just yet.

His stomach grumbles quietly, and he sets a hand on his lower abdomen, rubbing absently as he thinks. Wonders why she’s decided to come out of her room tonight instead of keeping to her space—why tonight of all nights the House is throwing him under the wagon. But he’s a full-grown male, he can handle one short interaction, even if it’s with her. It’ll be a good chance to check on how she’s doing physically in person, too, having been putting off that task for a while, satisfied with the imaginary rendering his shadows bring him every now and then.

Azriel continues down the hall, noting the dim flicker of light from the doorway, warming the blue darkness to a sparse orange, a clear outline of colour in the deep shadow and he wonders what she’s doing. A few quiet steps bring him to the threshold, steadying himself for her longing eyes and the dipped shoulders.

He rounds the frame but halts on the threshold, shadows instinctively slinking across his skin, pressing silently back into the darkness of her peripherals.

She’s crumpled over, sobbing silently, shoulders trembling as deep breaths heave and shudder from her lungs. Her features protectively hidden by the sleeves of her cardigan, pressed tight to her features as quiet, wet cries gasp from her lips, trembling in the dim light of her single candle.

He watches from the edge of the room, observing silently, caught on the force of despair. How it’s shaking her frame, wracking it like a paper lantern in a storm, tossed and battered until it’s soaked and dissolving beneath the downpour. Flame reflects in the golden pool beneath her on the table, rippling with hot droplets as they drip heavily, splashing between the grains, growing steadily larger.

The tips of his fingers tingle, but he resists stepping forward—with everything that’s between the two of them he doubts it would help.

The familiar scent of gardenias floats over to him, stronger than usual, and hazel eyes trace the bare skin of her hands.

They’re horrifically dry, despite the intensity of the scent that always accompanies her nowadays, skin peeling around her nails, cracked and flakey like freshly baked pastry, rough patches of rawness peeking through, sore and worn from the interior of her gloves.

To a less observant pair of eyes, it may have appeared as a case of frostbite, or treatable dryness, but he recognises that formation—the slight warp of burning flesh.

Her palms press to gleaming cheeks, as if the wetness will absorb into her hands, curing the desiccated expanse, soaking up until they’re perfect again, without a flaw or crack to be found. The bones in his hands ache dully, pains blooming beneath his own warped flesh, swollen and melted in parts, scarred and misshapen. Deformed.

She starts mumbling under her breaths, sobs becoming heavier, lungs gasping as air is harshly sucked in, stumbling and stuttering in her shuddering chest. She’s apologising. Over and over, murmured sorries and desperate pleas. Repeating over and over how sorry she is as the water ripples beneath her, lips tugged down, brows knotted in sheer self-loathing. So concentrated it knocks him in his chest.

He should turn away—he can wait a few hours easily, allow her to vacate and recover at her own pace—but he’s kept at the edge, watching silently, wreathed in shadow saved for the flame-lit hazel of his eyes. Observing such a pure display of sorrow and wretchedness, a sense of foreign familiarity ghosting within his chest. Like finding a new path to an exact location—one he hadn’t known existed until then, completing a fraction of the unknown map.

Azriel takes in her curled up form, hunched over the candle, back curved as she sobs into damp wool, familiarising the sight. His expression tightens ever so slightly, brows pulling in, edges of his mouth twisting down, working into the beginnings of a frown.

With one last scan, he turns silently, retuning her the privacy she’s unaware has been disturbed.

————

You ease out a heavy sigh, but your shoulders remain tense.

Half a cupcake remains on the table, the house setting a glass dome over its top.

You peer down at the symbol numbly, eyes sore and swollen. Aching from intense use. That’s all the emotion you can manage for the night—a drought forming in the desiccated innards of your soul. Tears have been bled dry to a state of numbness, skin tingling absently. Breathing mindlessly. Wandering listlessly.

————

You land three light taps to the door, the warm lamp far above you illuminating the small inlet of the entrance, a wooden frame either side to hold the vines as they’ve reached and crawled over the years, the tiny pale flowers putting out a lovely fragrance—like lilies, or sweet peas. Long moments pass, then the door is quietly opening, one dark hand resting casually at the height of it, the other against its frame.

“Hey,” he greets, the edges of his mouth relaxing a little.

“Hi,” you reply, realising how scratchy your voice is, raw from that long hour. Hastily clear your throat, shifting in the entrance. “Would you— I mean, are you busy tonight?” You ask, wringing your fingers slightly, stopping when gold flicks down to mark the action.

Bas releases the door, opening it a little wider, standing straighter and clearing his throat. “Nope,” he says, “something on your mind?” Instantly the lone candle flickers in your head, the sponginess of the small cupcake, and you blink away the prickling pressure. “Yes,” you answer quietly. “I just— I don’t want to talk about it,” you settle on, returning your gaze to his. Anxiety beginning to melt away—you can be something other than fine around him. Lower lip wobbles with the thought, but you hasten to push the welling emotion away. Your eyes would hate you if you started crying again.

A deep breath eases into your lungs, then blown out heavily.

“I had a rough evening,” you say vaguely, “and I’m feeling pretty awful at the moment, so I was wondering if you’d like to go out for a bit.”

He watches silently from the warm inside of his home, the smell of rosemary and thyme cozily wrapping around you, almost enough to make you wish for a night in, but you’d rather not feel for a little bit. “You do that a lot, y’know?” He says at last, stepping back to allow you inside. You follow quietly, looking up at him with a furrowed brow, keeping to the wall. “Do what?” You ask, wondering if he’d like you to take your shoes off since it looks like you might be coming further in.

“Phrase questions weirdly,” he laughs faintly, the deep sound breathing a small spark back into your blood. “Like that one, ‘I was wondering if you’d like to out for a bit.’ I was wondering if you’d like to go out for a bit?” He repeats, raising the inflection at the end. “You know you can ask me stuff, yeah?”

You feel the faint tug of a smile on your lips, amusement crossing your features. “I know,” you reply, “maybe I just didn’t feel like saying it as a question.” Bas rolls his golden eyes, mouth copying yours, forming a slight smile, before shaking his head and turning. “Let me grab something. Anywhere you want to go?” He calls from over a broad shoulder, reaching for a warmer piece to put over his indoor clothes.

Shake your head, keeping to the edge of the room, wary of the clean floor. “I just want to be outside tonight,” you say quietly. “I don’t…the inside just…” You purse your lips in a grimace, and he nods. “I get you.”

Another well of emotion builds in your chest, but again you push it away.

Tongue licks out over your lips, shifting on your feet, making an effort to brighten your demeanour. “What’s going on with you at the moment? There was that thing you wanted to talk about last time…?” When you’d had a small crying session in his arms. Whenever the memory inserts itself into your head, you’re torn between embarrassment and jealousy. Embarrassment at breaking down over such a small thing after having kept it together for so long, jealousy over how easily that comes to other people. That small, sad part of yourself wanting more, but as usual, she’s gently pushed aside.

Bas sucks in a slow breath, guiding you to the door. “Yeah, about that…” The two of you step outside into the crisp night air, and you wrap your scarf closer, huddling beneath the warmth. Even after all this time, the warmth in the chillier months is something you can’t help but find your stress in.

“So…” you encourage when he goes quiet, linking his arm with yours. “What did you want to say?” But he shakes his head. “To be honest, I don’t want to talk about it right now,” he answers with forced lightness. Brow dips—is it something to do with his dad?

“You okay?” You ask softly, stepping a little closer as you make the walk down his small front garden, the gate creaking open before he shuts it behind you. “Fine,” he replies, then relents. “A bit tense.”

You try to come to a stop, but he gives a gentle tug on your arm, telling you to continue on. He doesn’t want to talk about it.

With a heavy swallow, you direct your attention forward, hand pressing into the warm muscle of his arm, firmly linked together. “You’ll tell me when it’s been enough, right?” You ask quietly, forcing yourself not to peer at him through your peripherals. He has an uncanny sense for when people are watching him.

He’s quiet, continuing on with the walk, but you don’t make the mistake of trying to rush him. Sometimes he just takes a bit.

“Sure,” he says at last, and this time you do look at him, a slight glint of amusement in your eyes to soften the stern set of your mouth. “Sebastian,” you warn, and he cringes at your side. “Fine, yeah, I’ll say something,” he relents, waving his free hand, not quite meeting your eye. You manage a quiet laugh, before you both settle back into silence, quietly paying attention to the swish of the breeze, skirting around the subjects at hand.

The question’s on the tip of your tongue, eyes watching him from the side, but then he gives and almost undetectable squeeze to your arm. So light you’d think you might have imagined it. Had the two of you been human, you would have dismissed it. But fae bodies have an entire new level of awareness to them, impossibly sensitive on depthless levels. Utterly overwhelming at first. Still getting a handle on some of the more intense senses.

As it is, you take it as his answer. The promise he won’t voice.

So you continue on into the night, neither of you quite fully present in the moment to be doing something like this. But bad decisions happen, and mistakes are made. Without them, life would be boring, and dull. You’d never progress.

————

Skin buzzes pleasantly, a wide smile on your lips as you lean into Bas’ side, greedily taking in his warmth, mourning already forgotten and pushed to the side.

You stumble along, his arm wrapped securely around your waist as laughter rings between you, fuel for the rest of the night, replenishing the emptied wells of emotion like he’s pouring molten gold straight into your blood.

He’d been tense at first—nothing outright, or obvious in any sense of the word, but those small tells were there. Patterns one can only pick up on after spending pure, concentrated months with someone. And his behaviour had been erratic. The tension in his jaw when a female had bumped into him, spinning clumsily on her feet to apologise. The pause before he’d forgiven her, and continued on with his night. Then he’d refused to even take a sip of your drink, politely but firmly refusing your attempts to get him to loosen up.

You’d tried plying him with all sorts of methods, from joking and humour, to offering up some of your own little pieces, to asking directly what was going on inside his head that night. He’d diverted the first two, and snapped at you to mind your own business at the last one, which—to be fair—he was entitled to do. You know you wouldn’t appreciate one of your sisters trying to worm their way back into your life if you wanted your peace.

Eventually, you’d gotten up, telling him you’d pop outside for some fresh air—the night sky is always beautiful here—but he hadn’t wanted to come with you, simply sipping quietly on the non-alcoholic drink before him. Was it something to do with whatever he’d wanted to speak with you about?

While you’re out on the balcony, you explore the possibilities of what he might want to say. Though, you decide to stop once you notice the thoughts steadily becoming worse and worse, pausing the process before you cause yourself a public meltdown—you can theorise once you get back to the House.

But with thought of the House comes thoughts of that dangerous piece of parchment on your desk. The open challenge left for you, daring you to bring out some imagined claws. Outrageous and bold and brazen. You can’t even begin to imagine what those sorts of characteristics would imply to your personality. Do you even possess the capacity to become anything other than the flimsy spec you are? To make something out of the damage, to make it worth an amount, so it’s anything but weight, and trauma, and baggage.

Running gloved fingers over your face, you raise from the balcony, turning and heading back in. You don’t know why you didn’t try and turn back sooner when he obviously wasn’t in the right state to be coming out, certainly not surrounded by alcohol.

(I wanted to, so I did.)

(I disregarded him because I am more important.)

When you re-enter the fairly crowded room, you edge your way along the walls until you can spot him, a glass of water in his hand containing a slice of lemon and what looks like a leaf of mint. He’s speaking with a female, his expression softer than usual, and you wonder if you should perhaps complete another lap of the room if he’s managing to relax. But then another male sidles up, his arm wrapping around her waist, and she’s promptly whisked away onto the floor. Golden eyes follow the two, watching as they disappear into the night.

“Hey,” you greet, pretending to be a little more fatigued than you truthfully are. Bas inclines his head in reply, taking a deep drink of the liquid, draining the glass before returning it to the wooden surface of the bar. “Ready?” He asks, standing promptly. A smile softens your features as you nod—wondering how long he’s been wanting to leave but sticking it out. He nods again, the warm piece he’d grabbed before setting out into the night getting put over his free arm as his hand grazes the space between your shoulder blades.

You both cross over the threshold of the establishment, and the cold air smacks you right in the face, draining the warmth in an instant. Bas chuckles lowly, tossing you the outer layer, immune to the cold.

You peer at him hesitantly, but he just rolls his eyes. “You’re cold, and I’m offering you a solution,” he says pointedly. “So take it, yeah?” You give in, sliding your arms into the too-large sleeves, wrapping it around your bodice, relieved to keep out the raw bite of oncoming winter. “Thanks,” you murmur, allowing hesitant comfort to settle over your skin as his arm pulls you out in into the street.

The two of you walk mostly in silence, content to mull over your own issues in peace, the frenetic pulse of others’ lives colliding off one another.

A scream pierces out of nowhere, so shrill that you startle, Bas flinching at your side, heart pounding in your chest. Laughter echoes in response.

Both of you peer toward the sound, but all you find is a female getting to her wobbly feet, surrounded by mirth filled faces offering her various hands up, pulling her back to standing, arms linking close with one another.

You exhale heavily, but beside you Bas is tense, muscle coiled tight beneath the warm heat of his skin. Lightly, you pull on his arm, encouraging him to start moving again because it’s cold outside, and he’s given you his only good piece of protection against the piercing autumn chill. He moves along stiffly, tension tightening across his muscles, hands tucked tight in the deep pockets of his trousers.

Silently, you peer at him from the corner of your eye, noting the rigid posture, the downward tip of his brows, the tension in his jaw, as if biting down.

“Hey,” you say softly, laying your hand on his shoulder, bringing him out from whatever space he’d dropped into. Golden eyes flick to you, more distant than usual, and you realise just how lucky it was that male scooped up the female when he did—he’s clearly needing to be alone right now, in the peace and solitude of his own home.

You put a smile across your features, “scary, huh?”

A beat passes and he’s silent, just watching you.

Then muscle slopes, tension rushing from his body all at once, a heavy sigh deflating from his chest, breath billowing out into the biting cold air. He nods, a smile beginning to form on his lips.

A hand drops to your ass, squeezing with interest before smacking the plump flesh hard.

Your entire body goes rigid, legs shaking as you spin around, clutching tight to Bas’ arm to keep upright, shock disturbing your stomach as your eyes lock with pale green.

“Nice ass,” the male compliments lowly, a slight grin on his lips as he prowls forward, arms wrapping around your waist, large hands settling lightly over your rear, cupping with interest. Instantly you raise your arms to your body, itches breaking out across your skin, pulse kicking up to the beat of a war drum as disgust slithers beneath your flesh. “What—? Get off—”

“Get the hell off her.”

Bas turns on a dime, the tension breaking across his features as his lip pulls back from gleaming white teeth, golden eyes glittering with rage as he shoves one hand into the male’s chest, sending him stumbling back a few paces, storm clouds thundering in his expression.

Hands tremble at your front, managing a few hastened steps away, putting shaky stumbles between you and the male, breath shuddering in and out of your lungs as you stare with wide eyes. Bas takes a step forward, bringing his hands up out of his pockets to remove the rings adorning his deft fingers, golden bands sliding up over his knuckles. “looking for trouble?” He growls, eyes trained on the opposing male with deepening anger.

The male raises his open palms, a faint smile on his sober features, pale green eyes gleaming beneath the hot faelights. “Calm down man. I didn’t know she was yours,” he drawls smoothly, “no harm done.”

“No harm done?” Bas hisses, baring his teeth, an icy gleam in his normally perfectly golden gaze. “Keep your fucking hands to yourself,” he growls lowly, keeping you behind him.

The smile fades from the male’s face, shifting into a slight scowl. “Calm the fuck down,” he snaps irritably, “it was a fucking compliment.” Bas snarls, discipline slipping as he stalks forward, fist snatching up the collar of the male’s shirt, a faint tearing sound ripping through the crisp night air. Pale green eyes widen, before deepening with anger. “What the fuck is your problem? It was a fucking—”

“You fucking try and put your hands on her again,” he mutters softly, the threat reverberating deep in his chest, staring down the opposition. “Fucking try, and see what happens.”

The male’s brows dip, lip curling back as he bares his teeth, shoving the flats of his palms into Bas’ chest, roughly pushing him off. “You tore my shirt,” he mutters, staring down at the ripped fabric. Pale green clashes with raging gold, darkening to viridian. The male looks down his nose, folding his arms over his chest. “You better fucking pay for that, prick.”

“For what? The improvement?” Bas barks, hands tightening into fists at his sides, aching for a brawl, that familiar itch practically scrawled across his features. Obvious to no one but you. Silvery moonlight catches his knuckles, something sharp and glassy catching your eye.

The male’s features twist with anger, then they’re slamming into one another, light gleaming; darkness swirling.

They’re using magic.

Your pulse kicks up, hands trembling as you stare helplessly, unable to formulate any thoughts. Before you power crackles in the air, tension buzzing like static before lightening strikes, and you need to intervene. But it’s as though you’ve been vanished from the world, physical form obliterated so you’re simply a wisp of conscious being tossed brutally in stormy seas. Just your skin tingling disgustingly in the shape of large palm prints. Like he’s scorched your body, so everyone can see the patch where—

The male pins Bas to the floor, his large body thudding heavily against the stone of the cobbles, one hand splaying across his shoulder, fist pulled back tight as a bowstring, shooting down, landing blow after blow to the centre of his face, blood spraying across a vicious smile. Gold practically glows in the hot light, enjoying it, letting the rage and fury build until it’s ready to combust, to be released on the male atop him. He’s savouring it, and you can do nothing but watch as he slides back into that state of self-destruction. Right before your eyes.

A wet crunch sounds, cartilage shattering, blood coating sharp, gleaming teeth that are bared in a feral grin.

“The fuck are you smiling at?” The male laughs, pulling Bas up by the collar, arm wound back, preparing to strike hard now the bone has caved. “You fucking brain dead?” He shouts, ears wincing from the volume, green eyes lit with bloody glee, liquid dripping from his knuckles.

Nausea roils in your stomach, recognising the path Bas has settled on. The numb violence in his gaze having your throat closing up. Before you can help it, your feet are moving on their own, pushing through the shadows as you run over to the two, arms wrapping tight around the male’s elbow, locking it in place as you lean to counter-weight his strength. “Bas…” you manage, voice cracking, muscles turning weak with adrenaline, legs like custard as they tremble.

Pale green eyes snap to yours, his head whipping round, only to grow wide, features illuminated with a blinding glow. Skin burns, from your fingertips to your stomach to your heels—you’re burning. The male flinches beneath your hold, and you hardly have enough time to catch yourself before he’s jerked his arm out of your grip, the point of his elbow hitting the dip of your collar bones, just shy of your throat. Heart stumbles in your chest before a force shoves at your spine, pushing you back into the male as the knuckles of his hand smack across your cheek, sending you tumbling to the ground. Copper bursts on your tongue as you flip over, scrambling to get up but trembling so violently you might be sick.

The male raises his curled fist again, preparing to strike, but Bas has gotten his dose of violence, bloodlust glittering in blazing gold eyes as lips pull apart into a wet, bloody smile. You catch the gleam of ice coating his knuckles, cold moonlight glinting across frozen, jagged edges before he flips the male over, fist connecting with his jaw, a bloody tooth being spat out onto the cobbles. Then the furore begins, fist pulling back over and over as he keeps the male choked to the ground, sawtoothed ice smashing against skin and bone with every wet crunch.

You try to call out, but your lips are too numb to move, skin stinging with piercing pain. Dark red splatters on the cobbles, flecked through with tiny shards of ice as the crunching continues, getting wetter and softer with every hit. Like the heavy thump of raw meat upon a carving table.

Trembling, you move to get to your feet, fingertips itching with adrenaline, shaking with indecision. Bas is going to regret this, you know it. He’ll come out of that haze drowning in self-loathing for giving into the impulse after so long of numbing it. You can’t let him continue—stop him before he does serious damage to himself.

He’s been there for you, and you need to be there for him.

Breath eases into your lungs, skin itching deeper, the burning again raising as your fingertips tingle, trying to reach out for your power. The sting of the green light begins to manifest, aching in your stomach, head pounding, rising to the surface—

You’re hauled upright, turned around and directed away from the beat down, magic extinguished the second his scent wraps around you in a night-kissed breeze.

Azriel doesn’t say a thing, simply curves his wing round at your back, guiding you off into the night.

You don’t have the capacity for dread or fear at what he’ll say once you’re far enough away.

All you can think about is the quiet warmth of him at your side, steady and assured.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

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[ay4tou]

can i request making out with goo?🫣

no holding back | goo kim x reader

summary: you try to keep your composure, but goo never plays fair. with his smug grin and charm, resistance is futile, and he knows it.

author's note: MAN do you guys love goo that much (well i do too so im not complaining) but there's still some requests lying around and ive been so busy lately coz it was my bday a week ago 😔 | masterlist

The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the city outside. You leaned against the wall, arms crossed, trying to mask how your heart was racing.

Across from you, Goo stood with his usual smug grin, his sharp features illuminated by the faint glow of the streetlights.

His gaze lingered on you, intense and teasing, as if he already knew every thought running through your mind.

"You look tense." His voice was smooth and light, but there was no mistaking the amusement in it.

"Maybe because you're standing there being annoying." You tried to snap, but your voice faltered under the weight of his gaze.

That grin of his only widened. He adjusted his glasses, the slight glint in the lenses making him seem even more infuriating.

Slowly, he began to close the distance between you, and you could feel your pulse quicken with every step he took.

"Annoying?" he echoed, his tone dripping with mock offense. He stopped just in front of you, so close you could feel the heat radiating from his body.

His hand came up to the wall beside your head, bracing himself as he leaned in.

"Funny, because you don't seem to mind me being this close."

You glared at him, refusing to back down, even as your breath hitched. "I do mind."

"You're insufferable, you know that, Goo?"

His smirk deepened at your weak protest.

"Really? Then why aren't you pushing me away?"

You hated that he was right, hated that your hands were gripping the fabric of your sleeves instead of shoving him back. He tilted his head slightly, studying your face as if he was savoring the moment.

"You're not very convincing." His voice was low now, almost a whisper, and you swore the space between you felt smaller by the second.

Before you could muster a response, Goo closed the gap. His lips crashed against yours with a force that stole the breath from your lungs.

For a moment, you froze, overwhelmed by the sudden intensity. Then, as his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, something inside you gave in.

You gripped his shirt, your fingers curling into the fabric as he pressed you harder against the wall.

His lips moved against yours with a rhythm that sent sparks racing through your veins.

It was teasing and demanding all at once, like he wanted to unravel you piece by piece. When his teeth grazed your bottom lip, a soft gasp escaped you, and he used the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

You felt the weight of his hand on your waist, firm and possessive, as his other hand tilted your chin slightly upward, ensuring you couldn't pull away.

His tongue slid against yours in a way that made your knees weak, and you had to grip his shoulders for balance.

He broke the kiss just long enough to murmur against your lips, his voice rough and breathless. "Told you you couldn't resist me."

"Shut up." you muttered, your voice shaking, but it didn't mean anything to the both of you. Before he could say anything else, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him back in.

This time, the kiss was slower but no less intense. His hands roamed your sides, his touch deliberate, as if memorizing every curve.

When he pressed his body closer to yours, you couldn't help but let out a small, involuntary moan that only seemed to turn him on.

"You make the cutest noises." he teased between kisses, his lips brushing yours as he spoke.

"Don't push your luck." You tried to glare at him, but the heat in his gaze melted away any semblance of resistance you had left.

His laugh was low and cocky, vibrating against your skin as he trailed kisses along your jawline, down to the sensitive spot just below your ear. The way his lips lingered there, coupled with the light scrape of his teeth, sent a shiver down your spine.

It felt like an eternity before he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours as both of you caught your breath. His thumb traced slow, lazy circles against your hip, his smirk never leaving his face.

"Admit it. You've been waiting for that."

You glared at him even as your cheeks flushed, your chest heaving. "You're so full of yourself."

"And yet here you are." He leaned in to steal one last, fleeting kiss before pulling back just enough to watch your reaction.

"You can hate me later. Let's see if I can make you forget why you were mad in the first place for now."

[bxtchycaprisun]

obstinate (5) | a. anderson

summary: you’re a new medic in the WLF base. you’re young, hardworking, and the thing that abby anderson hated the most, stubborn.

notes: fem!reader, medic!reader, protective!abby, soldier!abby, heavy mutual pining, mentions of sleep deprivation, comedic relief manny, one pet name 🤯

taglist: @caitlinisfruity @shaemonyou @mattm1964 @vigelvictoria @liabadoobee @shady-lemur @sweet-lover-girl @sweet-cow-nectar @anxiouso @novadanversss @paleidiot @makepastanotwar13 @juneswonderlust @ratdungeon @elliesrealw1fe @feelsoseencantdream @mai5mai @thatonementallyillsimp @stunkbiggu @lunapiximoon @ellabsmasc @gravygranules (striked text means i can’t tag u)

an: i wish buff women were real 😔

MDNI!!

under abby’s gaze, you felt small.

your voice was groggy from sleep, and you fiddled with your fingers like a nervous school girl. looking up at her figure with wide eyes, you’re mind nearly wandered from your original intention.

“i- i need you,” you whisper.

abby’s heart stops for a moment. she parts her lips to respond, but not a word came out. it was as if her voice had been caught in her throat.

you take a deep breath, feeling your emotions get the best of you. this was embarrassing, shameful even.

you had been adamant that you wouldn’t run to her. you believed that she deserved the grudge you held. and more importantly, that you deserved your life of solitude in the confines of the infirmary. 

but your lips had been etched into a frown for far too long. and your tiresome days turned from productive to draining. drowning.

“i know i said i didn’t want your help but… i need you to train me,” you say in a quick exhale. “i’m going… i’m going fucking crazy, abby.”

abby snaps her jaw shut, clenching hard as she stares at you. she should’ve known thats why you were here, that that’s what you needed. but she couldn’t help it that her heart jumped the second those first three words left your mouth.

and while her chest sunk as you finished your thought, and she tried to shake the familiar twist in her stomach, she felt a smile creep onto her face.

“you… you’re accepting my proposition?” she asks slowly, her lips curling into her signature smirk.

a broken laugh escapes you once again at her oddly formal choice of words. but your fit of laughter quickly turns into shaking sobs. your shoulders tremble as you try to hold back your tears, but the more you repress it, the harder you cry

abby’s eyes widen at your sudden outburst, lips parting into a shocked “o”, before she sprung into action.

she puts her large hands on each of your shoulders, cooing a soft “hey. hey it’s okay.”

you sniffle and cry, covering your face shamefully as you uttered “sorry, m’sorry”

“shhh.. calm down. christ you’re really shaky.” she mutters, almost to herself as she guides you into her place. the worry and confusion is clear on her face, and you fail miserably as you try to get yourself together.

she leads you down the short stairs of her room, humming to you to that you were safe as you desperately wipe your tears.

abby pushes you down to sit on her bed gently by your shoulders before squatting beside you, sitting just below your eye level.

you hiccup as you rub your eyes and mumble, “i’m s-sorry. i don’t know what’s wrong with me.” your voice breaks as you finish, and you force a small laugh, hoping to make light of your breakdown.

“you’re exhausted,” she mumbles as she brings a hesitant hand to the side of your head, stroking your hair slightly. “that’s what’s wrong”

you shake your head, “i was- i was just sleeping.” you say with pursed lips. “i’m supposed.. i’m supposed to be in the infirmary.”

abby copies your expression, pressing her lips together in a tight line as she looks to the side of you, as if contemplating something.

“you’re not… going to that,” she mutters, shaking her head as she braced herself for your disagreement.

your lower lip jutted out in a pout, and you release a slow exhale from your nose. “no.. i’m not,” you say quietly.

you looked so much worse than she’d ever seen you. your usual, vibrant self was lost in your dark circles and chapped lips. abby had seen you tired before. but never like this.

she whispers your name, dropping her hand to cup your arm, running her fingers over the skin soothingly. her blue eyes flick up, and her forehead crinkles with worry.

“what happened?” she whispered as softly as she could manage.

“nothing.. nothing happened..” you say, a bit of frustration in your voice. nothing did happen. you were just done.

“i’m just…” you pause for a minute, trying to figure out how to convey your weighing emotions. “i’m just so tired abby,” you say in a small sob “i’m so tired.”

“i know sweetheart… i know..” she mumbles as she pulls her hand away from her. she silently brings her fingers to untie your shoelaces, then mindlessly rubs your ankles as she slipped the boots off.

you meet her eyes, wondering if you should say anything about the nickname, the very endearing and intimate nickname. but you decide against it. you were tired. and you liked it too much to protest.

abby didn’t miss the contemplating look in your eye, and she gives you a small eyebrow raise. in normal circumstances, she’d tease you, but tonight certainly wasn’t one of those nights.

she stands up and pads over to a small drying rack in the corner of her room. she tugs a blanket off the wire and tosses it to you.

you catch it in your shaky hands, looking up at her with teary-eyes.

“sleep here.” she says in a quick demand.

you part your lips to respond, probably with something along the lines of “i can sleep in my own bed”, but she instantly repeats her statement.

“please just sleep here,” she says, “you need it.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, looking down as your mind raced.

there she did it again with that statement.

you shift your gaze upward, looking her straight in the eye. she expected you to say no, to stand up to your unstable feet and leave her to worry about you.

but you didn’t.

you say something with so much simplicity, her chest tightens.

“okay,” you whisper, not moving from your seated position on the bed.

abby’s face gets a bit hot as she hears your response. your tone was unlike anything she had ever heard come from your mouth. it wasn’t just gentle and soft, but pleading. you were finally letting your guard down.

finally letting her help you.

she clears her throat, standing up as she runs her fingers through her hair. she was flustered, and awkward. she had never actually reached the point where you gave in. now, she didn’t know how to act.

“just…” she begins in a hushed tone, as if she were talking to a child. and considering the fragile state you were in, she knew that’s what you needed. “just sleep in my bed. i’ve got patrol at 6, but i won’t wake you.”

you nod, pursing your lips as she collects a sleeping bag from off the top shelf above her bed. “you don’t… i don’t want you to sleep on the floor abby.” you say softly.

“i’m fine,” she replies sternly.

you sigh, staring at the hard floor and then the comfortable mattress. abby may have the best room, equipment, and overall treatment in the base. but they sure didn’t bother giving her a bigger bed.

unable to shake your guilt, you try to interject, but she quickly cuts you off.

“that bed is hardly big enough to fit just me. you really want to share it?” she asks, her tone slightly taunting. you’re face turns a deep shade of red, almost feeling insulted. it was like she could read your thoughts, know exactly what you imagined.

her body beside yours, forced together on the small mattress.

despite it feeling foreign and wrong, you wanted that.

and it was like she knew it, too.

abby’s eyes widen at her own comment, realizing how uncomfortable she just made the situation. “i’m sorry i just…” she stops herself, pinching her eyes shut as she sighs.

“i just want you to get some sleep. take the bed.” she finishes.

you turn your face away, feeling ashamed of the situation you’re in. you felt desperate, and on top of that, rude. but you’re embarrassment prevented you from arguing anymore.

“thank you,” you muster, looking up at her from your cross legged position on her bed.

she sighs, tapping her knee as she sits beside you.

“i’ll be… i’ll be gone until around 2 tomorrow.” she whispers, and you nod with a frown.

“we can talk about… this… when i come home.” she bites her bottom lip, “you can uhmm… you can stay here? until then… i really don’t mind.”

you shift your gaze nervously, shaking your head. “that’s- that’s okay. i’ll… i’ll probably need to go into the infirmary, make up for my abandoned shift…”

“don’t,” she quickly interjects, “i… i don’t need you running off on me,” she whispers, cheeks turning slightly pink.

you let out a small laugh, smiling down at your hands. “running off? what do you mean?”

abby cocks her head to the side with a crooked smile, eyes locked on yours. “i just mean… i don’t want you to change your mind, decide you’re mad at me again.” she takes a deep breath, looking down and furrowing her brows. “i want you to stay this time, maybe we can actually talk.”

you stare at her breathlessly, completely smitten with her words. you clear your throat, closing your eyes for a moment before you nod.

“okay… i’ll stay,” you whisper, watching her with parted lips.

abby pauses for a moment, her body swaying uncertainly. she looks in your eyes, her jaw loosening to say words that don’t seem to come out. she clenched her teeth shut, her gaze moving from your eyes to your lips.

you swear you see her pupils dilate.

she holds her view there for a moment, her face inching closer to yours. it was so subtle, it was like she didn’t even realize she was moving forward.

your breath hitches, unable to think once more as you wait in anticipation. was she going to…?

but as you exhale shakily, her eyes snap back up to meet yours, and she clears her throat abruptly.

“good,” she says breathlessly, before raising to her feet, grabbing the sleeping bag, and unraveling it quickly on the floor beside the bed.

you watch her with a dumbfounded expression, unsure if you should say anything at that moment. wondering what you could say. you decided against it, knowing the only words that wanted to leave your mouth were why don’t you just do it?

but you knew why.

your eyes don’t leave her tall figure as she lays out a couple blankets and pillows on top of her setup on the floor. she turns to face you, grabbing another quilt from the corner of the bed.

she cups your shoulder, pushing your dazed, and cried out frame backwards on the bed. “you should get some rest,” she mumbles, pulling the blanket over your figure, and waiting for you to lay down.

you had so much you wanted to say, and for once, you didn’t feel tired in the slightest. but despite your desperation to spill every thought and feeling out to the woman in front of you, all words were caught in throat.

and while it may have just been in your head, the look in her eye seemed as if she wanted to do the same.

god did you want her to do the same.

no more words were exchanged in that moment, instead, abby opted to bring her palm to the side of your neck, cradling your chin in jaw in her hand.

she purses her lips hard, gauging your expression carefully.

shakily, she moves closer to you, tilting your face down. she keeps an unsteady hand on your neck as she brings her lips to your forehead.

she kisses the top of your head, and a deafening silence fills both of your ears. she closes her eyes, pulling away from you with an uneasy look. but as she takes in your soft smile, and how your eyes are filled with an inviting warmth, her nerves subside.

“sleep,” is the last whisper that leaves her lips as she pulls her hand away from your face, the sensation of her fingertips lingering.

she shuffles down to the floor, laying down against her pillow as you do the same.

you both lay silently, staring at the paint that peeled from the ceiling. the rhythmic sound of her breathing coaxes you back into your exhausted state, as you feel your eyelids weigh down,

abby looks around as the darkness plays tricks on her eyes, as if she could see nonexistent shapes and colors dancing above her.

she fell asleep wondering if you saw the same shapes as her.

you fall asleep wondering if she felt the same as you.

…

abby woke up at 5:30 the following morning, groaning in annoyance as she forced herself to get up. she brings her palms to her face, rubbing her scrunched cheeks as she tried to shake her morning exhaustion.

she stretches out an arm as she yawns loudly, when suddenly she feels something graze her finger tips.

she looks to her right, and as she remembered the companion she gained in the night, she quickly slaps her hand over her mouth, sharply cutting off the sound of her own voice.

she sits up, looking at your sleeping face, and sighs as the memories from last night flooded her mind.

your face, which usually held so much expression, whether it be a toothy smile or a frustrated scowl, was now calm and rested. she parted her lips as she exhaled, shamelessly staring.

your eyes were peacefully shut and your hair was messy around her pillow. abby’s pillow. you had, in your sleep, turned completely to the side, facing where abby had slept. your arm was slung lazily off the side of the bed, fingers dangling over the edge.

your palm resting open in front of her face was like a cruel joke. a tease.

abby clenches her jaw, her gaze now on your hand. in a slow, self conscious movement, she brings her fingers to yours again.

it started off as a touch lighter than a feather, her fingertips grazing your thumb as she bites the inside of her cheek. after a moment, she intertwined her hand with yours, feeling the warmth of your skin.

her hand was larger than yours, rougher, calloused. yours was smoother, less damaged due to your work in the infirmary. but the small white scars and the firmness of your palm didn’t go unnoticed.

you were delicate, but durable.

you were soft, but hardened.

loving, but reserved.

abby didn’t know how someone could be all of those things. but you were.

and she loved that.

as she hears your muffled hums, she instantly pulls her hand back from yours, eyes widening as she watches you stir.

the thought of you catching her with a shy hold on your palm made her heart race, as if she were some teenager with a crush.

as much as she wanted to show you how much she wanted to hold you, how much she wanted to kiss her apologies into your skin, how much she felt, she wouldn’t.

abby sat in place and studied you from a few feet away. she pulled her knees close to her chest as she watched your chest slowly rise and fall.

you seemed to look better than last night as you lay unconscious, but yet again, that could be her mind playing tricks on her.

while she would never say it out loud, seeing you in such a bad state last night did a number on her.

abby wasn’t one to second guess her actions. being in charge of the lives of many, and facing life or death decisions on a daily, she didn’t have room for regrets.

when she gave and order, she stuck to it.

when she hurt people around her, she was never to blame.

but she couldn’t help but feel that her decision to keep you off of the field was wrong. like she had only made things worse for you.

she should’ve known you’d be so stubborn, that you would continue to slave away at work, and wait until your breaking moment to accept her help. she shouldn’t have tested you like that.

abby’s mind raced as she remembered that night she was shot. she asked you if you were even happy, phrasing like some sort of an insult, a jab.

but she never should’ve treated this like a game, and your emotions like pons. even if you were being childish and stubborn, she could’ve decided to be the mature one.

and now, as she watched you clutch onto her blanket as if you were getting your last blink of sleep, she realized she had let this go on too long.

her eyes shift quickly to the clock, reading that it was 5:45 in the morning, and she bounced to her feet as silently as she could.

she shuffled quickly up the few stairs to manny’s side of the room, shining a small flashlight in his sleeping face. abby crouched by his side, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him roughly

“manny,” she whispered sharply, “manny wake up!”

her roommate quickly jolts upward, pushing her away as his eyes adjust to the bright light.

“abby what the hell,” he snaps, shoving the flashlight out of his face with a scowl. “what do you want?”

abby sighs, turning off the flashlight and looking at him pleadingly. “you remember all the times i covered your patrols when you had a girl over, right?”

manny scoffs. “what? yes i- i remember, what are you talking about abs?”

abby bites her tongue, looking between him and your sleeping frame on her bed with desperation.

“i need you to take my 6 am,” she musters out with an apologetic half-smile.

manny’s eyes narrow. “no,” he says quickly.

“manny please,” abby whines, clasping her hands together and shaking them in his face in a begging motion. “i’ve got something i really need to take care of.”

manny eyes her suspiciously, sitting up to take a look at her bed. as he spots something under the covers, his eyes light up in amusement.

“ahhh… i see your finally adopting my lifestyle, huh?” he says teasingly and abby’s eyes widen.

“what? n-no it’s not like that,” she shakes her head and manny laughs out loud.

“oh sure it isn’t.”

abby springs to clasp his mouth shut with her palm. “jesus would you quiet down? she’s sleeping.”

“oh please,” he rolls his eyes as his whispers. “she’s got you good. i will say though, abs, i’m impressed. i thought you were still hung up on that girl from the bar.”

abby’s eyes widen, and her face turns a deeper shade of red than she knew possible. manny’s expression mimics hers and he lets out another hushed laugh.

“is that her? christ abby, you dirty dog,” he chuckles and she shushes him once again.

“yes okay, that is her, but it’s not like that,” she snaps back in a whisper, looking back to confirm you were still sleeping. “and you keep your mouth shut about that.”

“okay okay fine,” manny chuckles, pushing her away so she would stop her incessant shushing. “and i’ll take your shift, but just this once, you hear me?”

abby nods, her smile growing wider. “yes- yes! just this once, thank you manny,” she breathes and he nods.

“not a problem abs,” he goes to stand up, sticking his feet in his boots and kneeling down to lace them up. “oh and one last thing.”

abby looks up with a curious expression, hands crossed over her chest as he continues. “go on,” she mumbles.

“don’t forget that trick i told you about,” he snickers as he waves his index and middle finger in the air, displaying a crude motion.

“oh god, manny, just get out,” abby huffs and pushes him out the door, rolling her eyes.

with one last shove she sticks her head out the door, sharply whispering, “and quit sleeping in jeans, you psycho,” before pulling the door shut, and walking back to her bed with a giddy smile.

for the first time in a long time, abby felt like she had the chance to turn things around.

…

a/n: i’m thinking this story is going to be wrapped up in the next 1-3 chapters. BUT wherever i do end it at, i plan on doing some extra one shots and head canons for this version to abby x reader, so PLEASE send it some requests of what you’d like to see!

[nymphomatique]

-ahem after reading your nerd/loser!Miguel I just CANT ✊😩 ❤ I gonna need ask orrrr request something !...YOU MADE SOMETHING AWOKEN something in me that I i JUST can't explain😵😳 but NEED TO BE RELEASED (😏) and now today I wanted to request my take on it if that ok with you 😌😏

Ok hear me out nerdy loser/horny!Miguel x YOU GUESS IT popular/richfm!reader 😝!!!..

So let me explain the plot first 😌 .so let just say we never seen Miguel (it been an long time since) only remember that name while reader was in highschool and reader was one of Miguel bully I guess.. (even though she not the one laying an hand on him 😒😔) as she just watch as her popular group of friends bullied Miguel seeing him have tear down acting nothing like an man... ( what an man baby)'Which taught was more *interesting* about this nerd. but reader always think he was cute (I guess reader say it in her mind) even if he was an loser nerd at high school and more of an quite guy and only care for work.but the best part of Miguel in high school is that he ALWAYS obey no matwhat towards you/fm!reader 😩(god I don't know if I have to explain the next scene but I think I just hints some 😝😋 blow jobs overstuim- i mean many !! I want to see. Him cry on the desk while reader under it 🗣✊)

This is could be an flash back honestly I don't care 🗣🗣 I hope your doing great and having an awesome day

you were cooking nonnie‼️ i hope this translated well into writing. and yes timeskip crumbs 🤭

cw: no smut in this one folks! timeskip present, mentions of cannabis use, miguel gets bullied ;(, reader saves him tho dw, genuinely just fluff, teeny bit of d/s stuff, allusions to sex at the end. italic text is a high school flashback! enjoy 🫶🏾

“i cannot believe you had braces!” miguel laughs at your yearbook picture. you smack his arm and roll your eyes at his laughter.

“s’not funny. was only my freshman year.” you mumble,

“i’m just kidding honey, you’re still gorgeous, braces or not,” he says, kissing your temple. the two of you were sitting on your couch in your shared condo, looking at your old high school yearbook.

“you’re flattering me to get in my pants,” you quip. miguel wraps an arm around you and kisses your neck whispering low. “don’t need flattery to do that.”

you push his face away and snort. “when did you get so suave, mr. o’hara?” you question. “you weren’t as smooth in high school if u remember correctly.”

“you’d be right, but meeting you changed me for the better, no?” he flips the yearbook pages, finding his picture in the sea of others.

“maybe you changed me,” you say lowly.

“aww, come on pete, lay off him will you?” flash thompson laughs. “nah, he’s too easy,” peter replies. they had been roaming the halls, cutting class to smoke a joint. since peter was out early, he figured meeting you once your class period was over would be fun, high sex in the bathroom stalls was on his bucket list after all, and you never told him no when it came down to a good time.

in the midst of both flash and peter roaming the halls, they had ran into miguel o’hara, clutching his books in his hands during his free period, roaming the halls like them. nudging flash in his shoulder, peter made a show of miguel. he had pushed him into the lockers, feigning accident. miguel hit the rusted metal with a thud, dropping his books in the process.

“oh, did i bump you? my deepest apologies,” peter mocks, flash not even trying to hide his smile. miguel looks up from his place on the ground between the two, rubbing his shoulder that hit the locker. not worth it, he thinks, and moves to reach one of his books. before he can grab it, peter kicks it across the hall. miguel’s eyes stay focused on the ground. “aww, what happened? you got butterfingers, o’hara?” flash laughs.

“pick up your fuckin’ books, you’re blocking the hall,” peter directs towards miguel. miguel stays unmoved, pushing his glasses up his nose, eyes still glued to the floor. peters angry, feeling disrespected. “hey,” he says, and the hostility beginning to bubble in his voice is clear. “you fuckin’ deaf or what? i said pick up for fuckin-”

“the fuck is going on here?” you interrupt, seeing peter and flash freeze for a split second. you had left a while ago to go to the bathroom and skip class, but had decided to stop by your lockers, where you found peter and flash bullying some random.

“hey, baby,” peter begins. your eyebrow raises and he drops the act. “we uh- we were just tryna help h-”

“can it. i can smell the pot off you guys, fuckin’ gross. get outta here before you get caught with no hall pass,” you dismiss both peter and flash. peter makes way to kiss you goodbye but you move your head, your eyes telling him to get the fuck on.

when both peter and flash are long gone down the hall, you turn to miguel. “hey,” you say. he finally looks up at you and you see tears welling in his eyes. you wince, and wordlessly kick his book back to him. watching him gather up his books is almost disheartening, usually you laugh at something this pathetic. your feelings get the better of you, so you walk to miguel and buy your hand on his chin, lifting his head up to look at you. the eye contact sends a weird feeling in your chest, his tear stained brown eyes filled with emotion.

“chin up, dweeb,” you say, touching the tip of his nose and winking at him before you get up and leave, off to see what trouble peter found himself in.

miguel is in shock. that’s the first time he’s ever been talked to by someone popular. a popular girl at that. miguel looks back at your figure walking away, hips swaying with determination and he feels his heart swell in his chest.

“you gettin all sappy on me now, baby?” miguel quips. “funny. you must have forgotten what to address me as. i’ve been too nice to you,” you reply, your gaze intense. miguel swallows and his whole demeanour changes. “i didn’t forget, mistress,” he replies. you smile, getting up from the couch, pulling miguel up by his shirt to follow you.

“that’s my good boy.”

[shalomniscient]

HI! i’ve been noticing a LACK of deren content so….can i request filmed sex with dom! deren??

anon i must preface this by saying i started playing after deren's event so i know roughly nothing about her but i did my best to research how she's like through info on s1ns so if this is ooc i'm so so sorry (i know i could watch recordings of the event. but my attention span... is sadly not robust enough 😔😔😔)

video star || deren x reader [NSFT][MDNI]

cw. strap-ons, overstimulation, squirting, filming (consensual)

notes. it's kind of.......... generic. sorry anon 😔😔😔

"C'mon baby, look at the camera, yeah?"

Deren's voice is floaty, barely able to be registered by you as she fucks into you, thick strap bullying into your tight, clenching cunt. One of your ankles rests on her shoulder, your entire leg braced against her body, while the other lies limp on the edge of the bed. The position allows the camera to clearly see the way your pretty pussy stretches to accommodate the thick toy. Your hands are bound above your head, tied in delicate knots to the headboard.

Deren herself stands between your thighs, and the only thing on her skin is the harness of the strap-on she has buried balls-deep inside of you. She holds onto your leg with one hand, while the other holds the camera she's using to film all your sweet little reactions as she fucks you silly.

Blearily, you open your eyes, and look into the camera lens. Deren's grip on your leg tightens by a fraction when she notices the tears in your lash line, and the way you bite your lip. She zooms in on your fucked-out expression, eyeliner runny and smudged, and snaps her hips harder against you, for once not feeling lazy like she normally is. Instead, her blood runs hot in her veins—a frenzy like Mania bubbling in her core.

"Shit, baby—so pretty like this, hm?" Deren breathes, leaning forward to get a close up on your face as you throw your head back, mouth opening wide as pleasure jolts your body. She thrusts deep with each roll of her hips, and you squirm on the bed, near delirious with pleasure. "My little video star."

"'s too much," you whimper, hands scratching at the ropes binding your wrists, "'s too much, can't cum anymore—"

"Shh," Deren soothes, releasing your leg to cup your face and wipe the tears from your eyes. "You can give me one more, right? I know you can. Be my good girl and give me just one more, baby, for the camera."

You sob as Deren speeds up her thrusts, the wet sounds of her fucking into you ruthlessly echoing throughout the room. She shifts back to her original position, moving the camera away from your face and down to your sopping pussy, zooming in on the way her strap appears and disappears, slick and shining when it catches the light. Her free hand goes to further part your folds, exposing your stiff clit, which she starts to rub roughly with her thumb.

You squeal and your hips buck at the sensation, your leg kicking out. Deren remains unfazed, playing your body like a god damn instrument as she directs it to what's undoubtedly about to be a mind-shattering orgasm for you. The camera shakes with her movement, and the footage is going to be barely usable by her standards, but Deren can hardly care right now, not with the way you writhe on the bed and cry her name like that.

When you finally topple off that knife's edge of pleasure, you do so with a scream, your legs locking around Deren's waist. Your cunt flutters and squeezes around her, as if sucking her in, and with a few more harsh flicks to your clit you squirt streams of clear slick all over the director's abdomen. She sucks in a breath, slowing her hips as you ride it out. Some of your squirt lands on the camera lens, creating a glossy sheen on the footage.

It's absolute fucking cinema.

You babble and sob incoherently, and Deren finally starts to slow down, before stopping completely. She sets the camera down, still recording, and leans down to kiss you softly, her large hands wiping the tears from your eyes. "Such a good performance, baby," she praises, and she means it.

Oh, she's definitely doing this with you again.

[princess-glassred]

This is probably one of the weirder IT ideas i've ever pitched but here:

Imagine all the losers are having a sleep over and they start talking about how much of a dick Henry is and how it'd be nice if they could get some kind of payback for all his misdeeds. So then everyone starts having these very elaborate fantasies of over the top revenge that fits their personalities/personal experience with him. They're all very silly and some are even quite cruel, but they're all in good fun and genuine healthy outlets for kids who have been bullied by him all year round.

Bill's is quite simple, he pulls up on Silver when Henry is in desperate need for a ride home and Bill, the kindly dude he is, offers his bully a ride. He also very gently tells Henry rider safety is top priority, so he hands him a helmet that is unfortunately very very girly (it's purple with sparkley flowers on it~). Henry gets on expecting a fairly gentle ride, but Bill is nuts and silver just happens to be the best damn bike in the world, so they proceed to have a ride of comically dangerous proportions. It's like they're in irl happy wheels, Bill is riding over spike pits, leaping through the air, rolling upside down, all while Henry screams like a little bitch and cries for his daddy.

Richie's is pretty great, his idea happens to take place at the dentist office where his father works. Henry's in here for his first check up in I don't know how long, but Richie comes in to inform him that Mr. Tozier just so happens to be out, BUUUUT he's seen his dad work on other peoples teeth before, so he's sure he can do an okay enough job. Richie turns on this little stereo his dad keeps in his office and starts playing weird al's "like a surgeon". He then proceeds to run around the room like Patrick bateman before doing an invasive and somewhat humiliating check up on his mouth. He brutally insults his teeth and informs him he will need braces and head gear, and not just any head gear either but "The dorkiest, biggest, stupidest, ugliest head gear ever made by human hands" and he HAS to wear it 24/7. But that's not all! Richie also informs him that he's very multitalented, not only is he an impressionist and not only is he a good dentist, but he's also a junior optometrist, so he can give him a good old eye exam. Turns out his eye sight is even worse than his teeth though, and the only obvious solution is to give Henry big ass coke bottle glasses. One painful dental exam later and Henry looks like a bigger dork than Richie ever did. :)

Mike is not a very vengeful person, so he's not super into the idea of humiliating Henry, however, he does like the idea of getting a one up on him a little. His revenge fantasy is really just the concept of Henry working for him. Mike's got a successful farm and Henry comes to him groveling as his little scrappy farmhand like "Mr. Hanlon, sir, my back hurts, may i please, perhaps, possibly, maybe, if it doesn't inconvenience you, take a break?😔" and Mike just shooes him back to work. Then, because he knows Henry is such a good little worker he hands him the bolt gun and tells him to crawl into one of the pens and kill one of heir massive hogs. When Henry shows hesitance because these hogs are lowkey terrifying, Mike shrugs it off with a little "Now Henry, you're a big boy, you can handle it." and then PUSHES him into it like how he pushed him down that well. He cannot, in fact, handle it, because the moment Mike turns his back Henry starts screaming for dear mercy while Mike doesn't give a single flying fuck.

Eddie's fantasy is quite similar to Richie's but it takes place in a doctors office and i imagine it's all black and white like a 1950's b movie. Henry comes in claiming to be suffering from some awful unknown disease that nobody but Eddie could possibly help him with. Eddie cackles like a mad scientist and calls in nurse Richie to help him do the phsyical check up. They do a very thorough examination that includes giving him like 20 different shots of "medicine" that's really just water. He then diagnosis Henry with an awful, terrible, absolutely terminal case of "I'matotaldouche-osis". The symptoms include "Bad hygiene, ugly hair, and being totally insufferable every day of your life.". There's sadly only one cure for this fatal disease, complete amputation, they'll have to amputate his legs, his arms, his ears, and possibly even his waste (Eddie's doesn't really know how he'll do that, but i'm sure he'll figure it out through trial and error). Cue the comically large buzz saw.

Stan's revenge starts out with him bird watching as per usual, when he spots an ultra rare breed of bird; the mullethaired prick, native only to Derry and commonly found in flocks of other species of prick. How wonderful. Unfortunately though it IS an invasive species, so Stan must take it out humanely. He shoots a blow dart at "it" which instantly paralyzes Henry, but of course the revenge is not quite over yet. Stan takes Henry's body and paints him grey with some very quick drying paint, then plops him right ontop of a new fountain for his bird buddies. He even poses him all mean and tough looking like he did before. All his bird buddies really like it, especially the pigeons, who think he makes a great bathroom. That's what we really need as a society, less bullies, more birdbaths, right?

Bev just thinks it would be nice if Henry could walk a mile in her shoes, so her revenge does just that. Henry shows up to school in like a blouse, a pencil skirt, and heels while Bev's dressed in stereotypically masculine clothes. She catcalls him, insists he's only dressing that way for attention, makes a bunch of comments on his appearance that makes him uncomfortable, lots of stereotypical sexism. Eventually he snaps and tells her he is not interested, but when he tries to leave she literally attacks him with a sling shot. Of course everyone acts like HENRY'S the freak in this situation, even though he politely told her no multiple times and she attacked him with a fucking slingshot. Anytime Henry tries to point out the fact Bev literally shot rocks at him everyone's like "well why'd you wear a blouse today if you didn't wanna get hit on? Sounds like some one was being a prude". Doesn't it just suck to be demeaned based on how you dress Henry? And doesn't it just suck not to be believed when somenone of the opposite gender attacks you? And doesn't it just suck when you get called a whore or a prude even though you KNOW you didn't do anything? Doesn't it?

Ben's idea of revenge is straight out of a stephen king story, literally, he just feeds Henry the pie from thinner. He uses his intellect and knowledge of Derry's history to find where he can get his hands on the coveted pie, and then the next time he sees Henry he makes sure to tease him with it. "Oh hey Henry, i was just sitting outside getting ready to eat this entire pie by myself because i'm such a disgusting fat tub of lard. I sure do hope you don't eat it in front of me because, you know, foods about the only thing I have going for me. My fat ass would just hate to see you eat it instead of me.". So obviously Henry eats it, and as everyone who has read or watched thinner would know, he begins to lose weight rapidly until he's practically just skin and bones. Henry is so weak and frail he can't eveb bully people anymore, he can barely even stand to be honest. This continues until Henry passes out mid lunch and falls face first into his mashed potatos.

At some point during each one of these little fantasies Henry takes a moment to ask "Wait, are you doing this to me being i'm a sexist, lying, racist, antisemetic, homophobic, hypocrotical bigot?" and without fail every member of the losers club would always respond with a very enthusiastic "Yep!!".