#pretty gnarly if you ask me

[daisukerine]

uhh, what do you mean, anya— i didn't do jackshit, i swear! sniffle i uh.. you didn't hear it from me but i heard someone kind of, MAYBE, perhaps eaten like.. 5 tubs of ice cream. the party size. in like, one full go. COUGH COUGH— i heard they got a pretty bad cold from it too, and they're uhm— they're TOTALLY on their way to meet you, i think.

and HEY, there's like 15 missing tubs. i didn't eat anything, like— totally, man. COUGH COUGH you can check the whole ship, you'll find no trace of me eating ice cream! oh, except utility. sniffle don't check utility, it's like— uhh, TOTALLY fucked up in there, mechanic and interns only, you know? hah..

the puddles of ice cream... did they happen to be uhh, near utility, by any chance?— not that i know anybody who would do that, of course. COUGH and don't ya worry about me, anya! i got this— COUGH COUGH— like a pro! no risks being taken, trust—

Daisuke stops mid-sentence, before covering his mouth with a shaky hand. It's as if a switch turned his whole expression into a complete 180°— his whole face looking dizzy. His eyes are basically swirls as he gags bit, promptly hunching while his free hand holds his stomach.

h-hey, eurgh... anya, about that— do ya have a sniffle bucket nearby? i-i think i feel a lil' kick to this— ahem. i-i'll stay on the s-stretcher bed thingy..

anya . what do tou do when yuo eat 5 tubs of ice crema in oen go.asking for a super cool and totally awoesomw friend btw 😄

Daisuke. What did you do?

Danielle told me you might pay me a visit. She said I ought to be prepared. Y’know, she seemed worried. Genuinely worried. Does this have to do with the puddles of melted ice cream I found in the hallway? Daisuke, I thought we talked about this. What did I say about your sugar intake? You need to be careful! I hate to sound like a worried parent, but it’s true. We can’t take any risks here on the Tulpar.

Come on by, okay? I’ll look you over. Given the size of those tubs, I’d assume you’re pretty hopped up on sugar. If I were you, I’d hustle my butt and get over here before your body begins to crash. I’ll prep my things…

[sonrium]

DP X DC: A Minor Drinking Problem

Phantom is a relatively new member of the JLA, but it's been a few months, and things are settling in well. He's shy and polite but is a master of the snark with villains.

Before a big mission, the all hands on deck kind, everyone is talking about scars and the crazy stories behind them to distract from the coming fight. Danny, finally feeling like he can join in the conversation with all these adult heroes, pulls off his right glove to show a pretty gnarly scar on the back of his wrist. “I got this one when I fought a guy from the Revolutionary War a few weeks ago! Didn't think he'd charge me with a bayonet.” He shares a couple more stories and scars, but only the ones that he can easily show off.

Because of stories like that and some historical depictions of Phantom from different time periods, they think he's this ancient and powerful immortal that just looks like a teenager, it wouldnt be the first time. He's powerful enough to go toe to toe with Superman, so there's no way he's actually a kid. He even sometimes has the haunted, world weary eyes that their most hardened members only get after experiencing too much. Danny, being our lovable, obliviously dense idiot, has not realized that they think he's an ancient being.

After the mission concludes -it was a rough one-, the JLA celebrate their victory with a couple drinks back at the watch tower. Danny is understandably uncomfortable with this whole situation and keeps asking, “Are you sure I should be here?” They reassure him it's fine as they pass around beers, which Danny politely declines several times. Danny eventually sees this as the perfect chance to pad his blackmail folders on his inebriated coworkers.

Anyway, as the night goes on, they have a good time, but Phantom still hasn't gotten a drink like the rest of them, and Green Lantern (or hero of your choice) really wants their shy friend to come out of his shell. So, he slams an open beer bottle on the coffee table in front of Phantom. “Come on Phantom! Let loose a little. Celebrate!”

“Dude! What the hell?! I'm 16! That's illegal!” Phantom squeaks in shock.

“We don't care how old you were when you died. It's how long you've been a ghost that counts.” Flash slings an arm around Danny's shoulders from where he’s sat next to him on the couch. Flash can't get drunk, but he also thinks it would be fun to see their uptight new member drunk.

“That's even worse! You'd be giving alcohol to a two year old!” Phantom is horrified that his coworkers are so casually breaking the law.

“But you said you fought in the Revolutionary War this morning!” Green Lantern said with his eyebrows knit in confusion.

“No, I said I fought someone from the Revolutionary War. As in, the ghost of someone from the revolutionary war!”

“You can't pull that on us. There's murals and stuff of you from thousands of years ago.” The Flash waves off with a laugh.

Phantom’s finger presses painfully hard into Flash’s chest. “I do not need to explain time travel to you of all people. My mentor hates you, and I'm STILL sent on missions constantly to clean up your messes.” Phantom's clear and low. Flash liked it better when he was shouting and not staring him down like a predator with narrowed eyes.

(This random idea popped into my head. It made me laugh, so I thought you might, too. Here you go!)

[crushpunky]

drew and actress!reader on the kitten interview

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

this was highly requested, hope you enjoy <3

“Not sure how I got the short end of the stick with these three.” Y/n teased as she crossed her legs in front of her, joining Chase, Rudy, and Drew on the floor of the interview space. Cameras and crew surrounded them, a small makeshift barrier of boxes dividing them from where the cast sat on the floor.

“Ouch.” Rudy said, placing his hand over his heart in faux hurt. Drew grinned, leaning back on his hands, his fingers resting closely to the curve of y/n’s back.

“Are we ready for the kittens?” One of the producers asked.

“Bring in the cats!” The four of them cheered, clapping excitedly as one of the crew members entered the space, kittens in hands. Y/n put her hands over her mouth, squealing quietly as they placed the tiny creatures down in front of them.

“How long until y/n starts crying?” Chase said, as they continued to watch the kittens stumbled along the ground.

“She already cried on the drive here so…” Drew said, causing y/n to elbow him before returning her attention to the cats. A small gray kitten waddled over, climbing its way into y/n’s lap, its paws padding along her legs softly. The four of them talked sweetly to the kittens as they continued to play, climb, and run along the set.

Who in the Outer Banks cast consistently makes you break character?

“Oh JD,” Rudy said, moving to lay on his back as a small orange kitten rested politely in his lap.

“Yeah…” Drew watched one of the kittens crawl along his arm. “Or Nick Cirillo.”

“Agreed, agreed,” Chase said. “Y/n?”

“Hmm?” Y/n asked, clearly still entranced by the gray kitten playing with the sleeve of her shirt. The boys broke into laughter, causing y/n to groan. Of course she knew it was going to be difficult to answer questions with the smallest, cutest creatures alive in front of her, but she at least thought she’d be able to answer one question.

“I’m sorrryyy!” Y/n laughed. “Um, I think I’d have to say JD or Drew.”

“Me?” Drew asked with a quirk of his head.

“Yes! It’s just so weird to see you acting like… for lack of better words, a crazy person.” Y/n grinned, her nails scratching the scruff of the gray kitten’s neck.

What’s your favorite behind-the-scenes memory from filming Season 4?

“Oh, probably when Drew dropped me on my ass.” Y/n said, causing Rudy and Chase to laugh at the memory and Drew to shake his head emphatically. They had been filming a scene where Rafe picked up y/n’s character, carrying her over to the couch, however, Drew had miscalculated and dropped y/n straight on the hardwood floor. He had felt so awful, stressing as a pretty gnarly bruise began to form along her back over the week.

“I’m sorry! It was an accident.” Drew groaned, running his fingers through his grown out buzz cut.

“I know, I’m just kidding, baby.” Y/n cooed, pressing a kiss to Drew’s cheek.

If you could create a playlist for your characters, what songs would be on it?

“Do you guys have playlists?” Drew asked, looking between his co-stars. 

“Oh yeah,” Rudy said, patting the head of the kitten sleeping soundly on his stomach.

“I’ve got like a lot of… dark stuff.” Drew chuckled, glancing over at y/n, who was entranced with the gray cat that was still lying politely in her lap. Drew noticed the sparkle in her eye as she tickled the cat playfully, the kitten letting out a small meow.

“Um, a lot of Taylor Swift, of course… some Fleetwood Mac.” Y/n answered, attention still on her new furry friend.

“I think you’ve got a new family member, Starkey.” Chase teased, pointing at the furball in y/n’s lap.

“Oh, yeah, I think Charleston needs a little kitten friend.” Y/n said, blinking her eyes at Drew playfully. Drew said nothing, just grinning and chuckling lightly.

What’s your biggest ick?

“If you don’t like animals.” Rudy said, y/n pointing at him with a nod. At her movement, the small gray cat in her lap leaped off her knee, landing on Drew’s stomach. The kitten crawled up before flopping down on his chest, wide eyes peering up at Drew. Y/n squealed, watching the little cat having a staring contest with big old Starkey.

“I’d say, um, being rude to service people. That’s a big ick.” Drew whispered, his hand moving to rest next to the kitten’s paws.

“I would say hating on people for liking things,” y/n said, scratching the gray cat’s head. “Like, let people like things. Who cares.”

“Yeah, I agree.” Chase said.

If Outer Banks could crossover with any tv show, which show would you choose?

“Seinfeld?” Rudy laughed, the orange cat resting on his lap stirring slightly as his stomach moved as he chuckled.

“I’ve been digging Rings of Powers lately. I think it would be kinda cool to be in Middle Earth.” Drew answered, sitting up slowly, the cat sliding to rest in his arms.

“Alright, nerd.” Chase teased, causing y/n to giggle and Drew to roll his eyes at the jab. Contrary to what his very frat boy-esque exterior may give off, Drew was a nerd at heart, more than okay with spending the night reading Harry Potter or watching Lord of the Rings.

“I’m gonna say, and I think JD and Austin would agree with me, It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.” Y/n said, the boys humming in agreement.

“I feel like JJ would really get along with the Gang.” Rudy said.

Who was your celebrity crush growing up?

“Robin Williams. I had a huge crush on him growing up.” Rudy answered, petting the kitten in his lap softly. The gray kitten resting in Drew’s arm began to climb up his shirtsleeve, balancing on his forearm as Drew lifted it higher.

“Padme and Anakin in Attack of the Clones were… life changing.” Y/n said, watching the kitten walking carefully across Drew’s arm. One of the kitten’s paws slipped off, causing the kitten to fall and y/n to let out a small yelp. Drew was able to catch the cat’s small body before it fell too far, the cast letting our relieved sighs.

“You saved him.” Chase gasped, Drew lifting to hold the kitten against his chest, a sweet smile on his face. Y/n cooed at the way the kitten rested in Drew’s large hands, resting her head on Drew’s shoulder as the two of them looked down at the cat.

“Hmm,” Drew hummed quietly, “maybe Charleston does need a little friend.”

Y/n grinned, pressing a kiss to Drew’s cheek before squealing excitedly. Y/n turned to Chase, shaking his shoulders excitedly as Chase joined in on her excited squeals.

“Thank you Buzzfeed!” Rudy said, elbowing Drew playfully.

“Yes, thank you Buzzfeed!” Y/n joined, thanking the crew for their new furry friend.

[honey-flustered]

Kinktober Day 1: Xenophilia/Oviposition

Warnings: 18+ smut, dry humping, dirty talk about alien sex

Boyfriend!Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie tells you why alien sex is so much better. Maybe he can even show you.

A/N: Decided to join kinktober fun because why not so I’ll be posting to catch up . Posting something risky and weird on the main so lemme know what yall think

You’ve known Eddie to be quite stranger ever since the day you met. It was evident considering the differences in your friend circles. He is a pop culture nerd and you’re the popular cheerleader. Somehow, his weird vibes were able to pull you in, unafraid of the odd rumors associated with him. Hell, you took it as a challenge then. But you’d soon come to fall in love with one another, appreciating the differences as it made teaching each other all the more exciting.

But you’d say the best part of being with Eddie is that neither of you had to hide any of your most intimate and sometimes down-right bizarre secrets from one another.

Like when Eddie learned of your secretly nerdy enjoyment of stargazing and tracking celestial events, he’d purchased a telescope for you where he’d spent the night listening to you explain away the galaxy. And like as of now, when you learned of your boyfriend’s alien sex fantasies while watching the new Alien movie.

You’d noticed the way he shifted in his seat during the movie, adjusting himself in his jeans. You playfully questioned him and he was a mess of stutters and stammers.

“It’s fucked, I know,” He says, avoiding your eyes and twisting a lone ring around his thick finger. “Bet you think I’m a real fucking freak.”

“I mean, I do think you’re a freak,” You say, bringing his face back up to yours. “But that’s exactly what I like. So…if you could have alien sex…how exactly does that work?”

“W-well, there are like some sex toys to make it happen.”

“And the whole egg implanting thing? Is that like when you creampie?” You ask excitedly.

His cheeks grow redder, coughing in embarrassment. “No—So like there are these gelatin egg kits that you can purchase at a sex shop. And they’d get deposited inside through sex and would eventually melt inside you—o-or any person for that matter not just you, of course. I’ll just use us as an example for clarification. But it’s only a fake scenario. Totally not real. For shit and giggles. Hypothe—

“I get it, babe,” You impatiently interrupt. “Get on with it.”

“Right,” He swallows. “So, imagine me wearing this cock sleeve thing that’ll look pretty gnarly because it’ll look kind of like a blue tentacle with all these ridges and bumps—

You raise an eyebrow, teasing. “Oddly specific.”

“Y-Yeah but it’s only to help with the visuals. Not because I have one. Psssh, what?” He says with a anxious high-pitched tone, eyes shifting side to side.

“Mhm,” You say, moving from your spot on the couch to sit in his lap. “Anyway, so back to you naked and wearing that little toy. Will the gelatin eggs be in it already?”

“They would. Then, I’d have to lube up the toy so you can take it. I’d get real nice and slick to the point where it’s dripping like slime just so we’re on the safe side.” He says, letting his hands glide up your thigh, lifting your skirt a little higher.

“Ooo, it’s that big?” You gasp, rocking back and forth against his growing erection. Every now and then, the tip would slip either between your clothed wet core or your soft thighs.

“Uh-huh,” His face in your neck, planting light kisses. “Or maybe you’re just that tight.” He emphasizes the last word while gripping and kneading the inner fat of your thighs.

“Then, what happens?” You mewl.

“Then, I’d stick it deep, deep, deep inside you.” He groans into your ear.

“Would you still be able to feel my warm walls around you? Feel clenching around you so you’d stay inside me?”

“That toy is specifically meant to give you pleasure,” He breathes hotly. “No, I won’t get to feel your tight, wet pussy directly around me. But I’d get pleasure enough seeing your face when I plant my seeds in you. You’re gonna take it all, aren’t you, babygirl?”

“Yes, fuck, why do I want that so badly?” You take his hand to place over one breast. Through the thin fabric of your shirt and bra, he quickly locates your pebbled nipple and plucks at it repeatedly.

“Because I just taught you how great monster sex can be.” His teeth sinks into your earlobe.

“You mean there’s more than just alien sex?”

“Mhm, I can show you.” He says, loving that he’s corrupting a girl like yourself.

“Yes, please, master. Show me more.”

[we-do-be-writing]

Taking Care

Sebastian (SDV) x Reader

A/N: I recently got back into Stardew Valley with the 1.6 update and got this dialogue with Sebastian, which gave me many ideas lol. I may end up writing a part 2 to this or just edit this post to add more

Another A/N: Okay, I totally did edit this to add more, and I think I'm going to do it again at some point lol

Last A/N: I did do it again lol, but now I think I've used all my ideas for this story

"What?! Are you kidding me?" You whisper shout, trying to keep Robin from hearing you.

Who knows what she would do if she found out Sebastian went into the caves alone. To be fair, you were about to knock him upside the head when you saw the gash on his arm.

It was gross, to say the least. It traveled up his forearm, the edges where his skin was split looked wilted, and you were surprised you couldn't see bone with how deep it was. Again, it was pretty gnarly.

"Sebastian, that needs to be taken care of; if you get an infection, you could lose your arm."

"That's a bit overdramatic," Sebastian says, "besides, I can't go see Harvey, he'd tell my mom for sure."

"Fine, then I'm going to take care of it."

You don't wait for his protest, grabbing his other arm and leading him to the couch in his room. Luckily for him, you were just on your way to the mines, so you had first aid supplies on hand.

First, you doused the wound with a life elixir, which stung based on the hiss Sebastian let out. Though already his skin was starting to close back together, the wonders of the Valley magic.

"I can't believe you went in there-"

"Hey, I have every right to go in there, same as you." He snapped, cutting you off.

You looked up and saw the harsh glare he was throwing your way, which you were happy to return as you continued...

"Slow down, hot shot. If you'd let me finish, I was going to say, 'I can't believe you went in there without a weapon.'"

"Oh," He mumbles, his eyebrows softening and his lips frowning, "Sorry, I guess I just didn't want a lecture."

"Well, you deserve one," you remark, "but now isn't the time."

"I lost my mace, but I didn't think it would be a big deal to go into the higher levels."

You sigh while grabbing gauze and a bandage to wrap around his arm. Gently, you take his arm in your hands and begin covering the wound.

Sebastian can feel goosebumps rising as he feels your surprisingly soft hands take care of him. He doesn't want to admit it to you yet, but it feels nice to have you there with him, worried about his well-being.

You finish wrapping his arm and look up to see him already gazing down at you. He almost seems to be in a trance, and you can feel yourself following along. Who knows how long you two spend looking at each other, wondering what will come next.

Taking a chance, you cup his hand in yours, drawing circles with your thumb. Slowly, your other hand travels up towards his face. Sebastian lets out a shaky breath and closes his eyes, ready for anything.

However, before you can make contact, Robin calls for Sebastian from the stairs, breaking the moment. His eyes snap open and you both jolt away, trying to come back to the present moment.

Quickly, Sebastian pulls his sweatshirt sleeve over the bandaged wound and calls back to his mother, telling her he'll be right there. You both emerge from his room, much to Robin's surprise.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't realize you had company." She says, noticing the blush coating yours and Sebastian's face. You can tell she's trying to keep the teasing smile from showing, though she thankfully doesn't ask questions.

"It's alright, I was just leaving anyways." You say hastily, waving goodbye to them both before booking it out of the building.

Before the door closes, you can hear a faint mumble from Robin. Sebastian, in a much louder fashion, tells her to keep her voice down, and you swear you hear him say something akin to "not yet."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's been 2 days since you last saw Sebastian, but now it's Friday, and you couldn't miss the weekly hangout with Sam and Abigail. Of course, it's not like you were avoiding Sebastian, but you also weren't sure how to act around him right now.

Usually, you would share everything with Abigail, but you had promised Sebastian that you wouldn't tell anyone that he got hurt. Unfortunately, Abigail isn't one to miss things going on with her best friend, so you had to admit to her that something had happened between you two.

This made tonight particularly anxiety-inducing as you didn't know what to expect when you walked into the saloon. You were the last to join, not unusual with your work on the farm.

The trio is in their usual spots, Seb and Sam playing pool with Abigail sitting on the couch. After saying hello to the others in the saloon, you join them.

Robin tries to slyly give you a thumbs up when you pass by. You and Demetrius furrow your brows in confusion, but you give her a smile and continue on.

"Hey, Y/n!" Abigail calls, waving you over to sit beside her on the couch.

Sebastian was just going to hit the cue ball when he heard your name, causing the pool stick to shake. The cue ball ricochets wildly across the table and Sam laughs at Sebastian's frown.

"Hmm, you seem a little distracted, Seb," Abigail says, "I think it's my turn."

You watch as she gets up and ushers Sebastian out of the way, wanting to pull her back to the seat. The boys share a look of confusion, but Seb moves over to the side with you.

While Sebastian's back is turned to her, Abigail tries to give you a discreet wink, to which you squint your eyes at her.

When he gets to the couches, Seb hesitates whether to join you or sit on the adjacent seat.

Before you can move, he shakes his head a little and plops down beside you, considerably closer than Abby was.

You try to mask the surprise and keep your body from going rigid. Why were you freaking out? He's one of your best friends; it's not like you haven't sat together before.

You pinch the inside of your hand to shake you from your thoughts. Looking over, you see Sebastian's eyes trained on the pool game.

Right as the cue ball cracks against an object ball, you lean closer to his ear and whisper, "How's your arm feeling?"

Seb lets out a shaky breath, something he's been doing a lot with you recently.

"It's good, there's just a scar left." He says, moving to face you and lifting his jacket sleeve just enough for you to see.

He's right, the wound has completely closed, and the scar is faded to a light pink. You feel relief flood your system, not realizing how worried you were about him.

"I'm glad." You say softly, going to touch the scar before pausing.

Glancing up, Sebastian gives you a tiny nod, and you watch the goosebumps rise on his arm as you make contact. You gently run your fingers along the mark, making him shiver.

"Does it hurt?" You whisper, lifting your gaze to meet his.

He shakes his head, "Just sensitive."

You cup his arm in your hands, a mimic of what happened 2 days ago in his room. This time, he flips his arm over, bringing his hand to yours, fingers dancing over your palm.

Now it's your turn to have your breath catch, but you don't break the eye contact. Just before Sebastian can lace his fingers through yours, Abigail cheers loudly, causing you two to break away.

Broken from your shared trance once again, you see Robin walk into the room. Sam and Abigail are looking at you both with a raised eyebrow as Sebastian talks to his mother.

"Seems like something that should happen in private," Abigail whispers to you, and you have to fight the blush clawing its way up your neck.

"Seems like something that's never going to happen." You respond. In your defense, it's difficult to think that the universe isn't stopping this for a reason.

Sam shakes his head vigorously, "It will, be patient."

You huff and roll your eyes playfully, kind of, but the conversation is halted when Sebastian returns to the group.

"Guess it's time to go home," Sam says, guiding Abigail to the door of the saloon.

You and Sebastian follow, but he grabs your arm to make you stop once you leave the building.

"Let me walk you home."

Your mouth drops open, but no words come out. He raises an eyebrow slightly, and you snap your mouth shut, giving him a tiny nod.

You both walk side by side until you leave the town center, cross through the area near the bus stop, and onto your farm. Stopping at the porch, Sebastian shuffles and scratches the back of his neck. Giving him a soft smile, you step closer and reach your hand from your side, ghosting your fingers over his.

Another shaky breath, and you make a mental note to ask Harvey to check into that at Sebastian's next check-up. You're brought back to the moment when his hand grabs yours and he pulls you closer.

Gently, his other arm wraps around your waist, and his hand rests on your back. You follow his lead, running your free hand up his chest to the back of his neck.

Feeling your breath hit his lips, Sebastian decides he's done with the waiting, the tension, and the interruptions. He leans down and gives you an intense kiss, if a little sloppy. You can't exactly complain; it's not like there are many people he would be kissing in Pelican Town.

You pull back a little, keeping your lips close to his. When you look, his eyes are still closed, almost as if he is searing this moment in his memory.

Closing your eyes, you do the same, hoping that you both will make many more memories. Who knows how much time passes before you step back. Sebastian's eyes blink open, and you share a smile as your eyes meet again.

"I don't think I ever said thank you for taking care of me."

"I'll always take care of you."

[jyoongim]

Hey I love your work so much! Could you please write about alastor with a wife who’s just like Jessica rabbit and ended up in heaven because she didn’t know about him killing but came down to visit him after meeting Charlie when she went up there. I just think I’d be wild for someone like Al to have a wife like that

AAAAOOOOGGGGAAAAA!!!! I could have written this in soooo many ways but i think its a bit like one i already wrote but I hope you enjoy nevertheless!!! @alientee

I highly recommend you listen to The Night We Met, Copacabana, and Why don’t You Do Right!!!! That’s what I envisioned for this one request!!!!

The meeting between the Princess of Hell and the Angelic council was a mess.

The Princess had a look of defeat, so you took it upon yourself to let her show you her hotel.

You prompted that you will be the one to go down and see if it were possible that demons could be redeemed.

I mean everyone deserves a second chance right?

You were talk even the worst sinner still possessed some sort of decency.

So you followed the Princess to her hotel to show you around.

Charlie was elated that you didn’t think her dream was just some fluck.

She asked you all sorts of questions. How you ended up in heaven and how was your life before you died.

”Believe it or not I was a singer at a gentlemen’s lounge. Oh darlin you should have seen me in my prime! Jazz, booze, and oh I had the sweetest husband.”

Charlie was shocked. I mean, yes you were breathtaking, but you really didn’t seem like the type to be tied down to some guy.

You giggled at her expression.  It was often the look men gave you when you refused their advances, happily boasting you were a taken woman and not some hussy that could warm their beds.

”Oh you’ll really find that the hotel has character. Our hotel manager might be a little…hmmm creepy but don’t pay him any mind” she said opening the door to the hotel to lead you through the lobby.

And character it did.

The interior was old-fashion but it had charm. A bit masculine for a young woman to run it,  but if the manager was a man, you could see why it looked the way it did.

You took a seat on a couch and waited as Charlie went to gather the residents so you would meet them.

You were slightly nervous. You were in Hell and hadn’t the slightest clue what demons even looked like.

You fiddled with your ring, how you wished to see your husband.

”Everyone we have a special guest so pleeeeaasssee be on your best behavior” you heard Charlie say.

You caught sight of a gnarly bar and the bartender, you smiled

”shot of whiskey on the rock love” Husker turned around and his eyes widened, yours did too “Why i never thought…Husker?!” You squealed happily, lunging across the bar to hug the demon. He smiled and patted your back, pulling away “Husker what ya doing down here?” He gave you a deadpan look, making you laugh. You then thought about it..

If Husker was down here then that…

”Charlie you should have said such beauty in our circle i would have cleaned up a lot better” a voice purred, making your head turn.

A tall spider smiled at you, giving you a flirtatious wink, which you sent back with a wave.

A little cyclone, a snake, and a seemingly human woman entered the room.

Charlie smiled “This lovely angel has decided to have a look around to prove Heaven wrong”

You introduced yourself.

”Now i know you’re not here long so Ill give you a quick-”

Charlie was interrupted by a radio-like voice.

”Don’t tell me you’re going to give a tour without me Charlie? You know we work as a team-” his words trailed off as he caught sight of you.

You stood, a happy smile on your face “Alastor baby!” You practically ran into his arms.

”Ain’t no way…”

”Noooo”

”oh welll that do make ssssennssseee”

”Pretty lady!”

everyone watched in shock as Alastor twirled you around, peppering your face in kisses.

”oooohhh my dear what a surprise this is!” He said hugging you. You heard a throat clear and broke your hold on him, turning to see everyone confused.

You gave a sheepish smile. Alastor beamed and hooked a arm around your waist

”Everyone this doll here is my wife! The prettiest thing that ever graced the earth!” You playfully slapped his chest.

Everyone's mouths dropped.

”WHAT!?”

You sat in Alastor’s lap as you told how you knew the red demon. Rambling on about how you two met and how your lives were like.

They just couldn’t process it.

YOU were married to Alastor. 

Married to the most feared Overlord in Hell. 

Wife to the Radio Demon.

How the fuck?

You were an angel? Literally and figuratively!

”How the hell did Mr. Creepy face fancy talk here get a broad like you?” Angel asked.

Alastor’s chest puffed with pride. His smile almost broke his face “with charm and wit my deluded friend” He said as he leaned his chin on your shoulder.

You giggled, it was always entertaining to see people's reactions to who your husband was.

You turned to Alastor,  lips pouty with a feigned upset look

”Now i been dead forever and not once have I seen you. Why? Why weren’t you in Heaven?”

Alastor stiffened, how was he to tell you that during your time alive he had killed many people just for the fun of it?

“Weeelll my dear I might have killed a few people” 

You blinked and then thought about it.

It kind of made sense, he used to be out ‘hunting’ at weird times of day, be gone at night saying he was working.

 You had a hard time getting stains out of his clothing.

That do explains some things.

”So do you regret anything?” He let out a laugh

nope. Not a single thing.

You shook your head “well since I’m heeeerrrrreee…why don’t we swing by juke joint, if you’re here, I’m sure Mimzy is here. I could use a good time. Its stuffy up there in Heaven. No fun at all”

Charlie perked “Ahh yes you must see how the sinners here are really like and what better than enagaging with them?”

Angel smirked “I know a place waaaayy better than some old booze lounge”

A club. You were at a club.

Your eyes honed in on a mic on the stage and it just happened to be open night.

You batted your eyes and just like that you were on stage.

The lights dimmed and you flipped through some songs to pick.

You might have been a bit old-fashioned but you were caught up on some of the modern singers that came through heaven.

The band nodded at your choice and you took hold of the mic.

With a twirl of your hand, you dawned on a 1920s theme look.

The gang mouths were jaw dropped as you started to sing, the audience was captivated. Catcalls and whistles filled the air.

Alastor felt static run through him as he sighed lovingly as you came down the stage and sat on his lap, mock fixing his bow tie as you sang. You teasingly nipped at his lips, causing his ears to twitch as you smiled going back to waltzing around the stage.

You smiled as bowed as the crowd exploded with cheers and applause as the lights came back on.

Ain’t no way Alastor had a bad broad like you, but the way you happily giggled as he whispered in your ear, pulling you into his chest…

There wasn’t denying it.

You held the Radio Demon’s dark heart.

His sweet, alluring wife

who would have thought?

[sluttycelestialgoddess]

If you give Sylus a Hunter...

Synopsis. Sylus has a lot of fun making you beg.

Pairings. Sylus x reader(MC)

Content. MDNI. edging, fem reader, praise, crying, mentions use of evol, pet names (kitten, sweetie, good girl, etc), AFTERCARE.

Word Count. 2.2k (damn... pretty good for my first story)

Author's Note. Thanks for reading my first story! Let me know what you think, and feel free to leave me requests! I wrote this while listening to 'Be Quiet and Drive' by Deftones. (also, did you like the title... I thought of 'when you give a mouse a cookie' and giggled to myself) xo, Z/Chaos

MDNI BEYOND THIS POINT.

Sylus had you right where he wanted you. His bed. Again. He looked down at you with his usual arrogant smirk as you whimpered and squirmed. His crimson eyes seemed to be lit with that internal glow they had sometimes when he was excited or wanted something. “Now, now, kitten. Spread those pretty thighs for me. You don’t want me to use my evol again, do you?” he purred sardonically, his left eye beginning to actually glow.

You were almost at your wits end. It had been an hour since he grabbed you out of the hallway of his hilariously (or should you say outrageously?) huge home you were attempting to get to know your way around and all but threw you onto his bed, using his evol to hold your hands above your head as he stripped you bare. He was insatiable. You’d been staying with him for four days at this point and already you’ve had more sex than you had in the last 2 years combined. Which, in the grand scheme of things, you guessed wasn’t much considering you dedicated all your time to becoming a Hunter for Linkon City after the rise of wanderer attacks, resulting in a gnarly dry spell… but his hunger for you was bordering on absurd. Even so, you had to ask yourself… Does he ever get tired?

In this hour that he’d had you at his mercy, he’d managed to edge you to the pinnacle of ecstasy no less than five times, never letting you reach that sweet release. You were a shaking, sobbing, whimpering mess, and he loved it. You were half in the mind to use one of the safe words he declared you use on the first night if you ever found yourself not being able to handle something. But your pride was like a gag, not letting your tongue form the word. “Feather”. How fitting, the smug bastard. 

“‘Feather’ will be to stop. You say that and everything stops. We do not continue. There will be no “break and then get back to it”. Saying that means you’re done for the night. So just be sure that’s the one you want to use,” he had told you. At the time you had giggled, thinking it was endearing, thinking back on it now, you wanted to kick him in the face. No way in hell were you uttering the word “feather” while a trembling, whimpering mess. If only you could actually move your legs to kick him, but nope. Useless appendages. 

You realized Sylus was still waiting for you to comply with his request. Finally having an ounce of control over your legs after they had become jelly sometime in the last 20 minutes, you shakily opened your legs to him, a whimper leaving your lips as the cool air in the room met your soaked lips. I could kick him now… but then he’d keep me like this all night. Fucker.

“Good girl. You’re doing so well,” he praised, not seeing your thoughts, steadily growing fond of the idea of smashing your foot to his face. You internally smiled at your mental picture, but really you were enjoying yourself all things considered. He leaned over to rub soothing circles over your thigh before running a long finger through your sensitive folds. “You remember your safe words, correct?” he asked with a grin and you nodded, glaring daggers. He chuckled and hummed at how wet you’d gotten, and he hadn’t even put his mouth on you. Looking up to watch your reaction, he slipped his finger in, curling slightly to caress over the spot that always made you gasp. You did, and he smiled at the pretty sound, feeling pride at how well he knew your body. However, he was beginning to think he was being just a tad cruel as he watched your eyebrows knit together and the pitiful whimpers run into each other as they exited your lush lips. 

“Oh baby, I know, I know… I’ll let you come soon. Such a good girl… you look fucking delicious right now,” he cooed as he eased a second finger inside you and coated his thumb in your wetness before rubbing circles over your throbbing clit. Goosebumps covered your skin and you whined, your hips bucking up of their own accord. “Mmm, such a needy kitten. Sweetie, I think you could take a couple more, hm?”

You whimpered out unintelligible curses at the remark and he chuckled. “Sylus… I really don’t know if I can,” you say, finally having found your voice in the string of muttered curses and whines. You clenched your eyes closed as he pressed harder on your clit and curled his fingers deeper. That blossoming warmth entered your tummy again. You fluttered around him and he groaned, wanting so badly to see you come apart, but needing it to be while he was inside you so you could milk him for everything he had. 

“Relax, you can handle it,” he chided with a tsk. “I’ve seen you take more than this, sweet girl. You’re stronger than you think. Tell me how badly you want to cum,” he groaned as you clenched harder around him. You were half scared he would pull back and deny you once again, but also half scared he wouldn’t and it would be over. He rubbed at your thighs, admiring how mouthwatering they were coated in your arousal. “Beg for it. Beg for me to let you cum.”

You felt the tears begin to sting the back of your eyes and you steeled yourself long enough to whisper through your moans, “Please, Sylus. Please let me cum, baby. I’ll do anything, just please…”

“Anything, hm?” he questioned, obvious interest in his tone as he leaned down and sucked lightly on your clit, replacing his thumb. You gasped as he rolled his tongue over the sensitive nub. Your legs shook fiercely and you cried out. Pulling back, fingers and all, he stood over you. The damn tease… His eyes never left yours as he deftly undid the buttons on his shirt, then his pants, rolling them both off and letting them pile on the floor. He leaned down and extended himself over you until your lips met in a passionate kiss. “If you’ll do anything, how about you stay true to your word by cumming around my cock?” he teased as he grabbed it and rubbed it through your slickness. 

“Yes, please,” you sighed against his lips, seeing this as him conceding as long as you came wrapped around him. His lips curved into a dangerous grin at your response, pushing inside with agonizing slowness. He groaned.

“Fuck, you’re so tight and wet, I don’t even need to work it in,” he moaned appreciatively as he drove into you with one powerful thrust, no longer able to torture you with slow pumps. Once he was fully seated, he kissed you tenderly as began to move, rubbing his pelvic bone over your clit with every thrust. You whimpered, feeling the tears fall from your clenched eyes as the warmth began to spread again.

Sylus smiled down at your beautiful face, eyes clenched tight with tears trailing down your cheeks. Perfect… She is so perfect. “So beautiful, baby. You’re trembling. You’re so close, aren’t you, pretty girl?” he rubbed your hair with one hand to soothe you and wiped at your tears with the other. You couldn’t form a coherent sentence, so you only answered him through an eager nod and whimpers. “Hm, I know, baby. Cum for me. Cum on my cock.” Sylus sped up, needing to see you lose yourself in pleasure. Lose yourself while clenched so tightly around him.

This was his favorite part, of course. After repeatedly bringing you to that edge, but pulling back before you could fall, you would always be so wound up that when the orgasm finally came, it would make you delirious with pleasure. He loved watching you as you finally crashed over the edge he kept you from and your face would contort in utter rapture, crying out his name and clenching so tight around him he’d have no choice but to follow you. He shook his head to focus on the present and ground against you to help you to reach what you’ve been begging him for. 

You whimpered as he gave his permission. You let go, no longer holding yourself back. The warmth in your tummy became an inferno as his thrusts became harder, rubbing your clit with his pelvis and the head of his cock jutting against that sweet spot inside you. You were so close. Just a little more pressure… “Please…” you begged on a needy sob. Sylus kissed you harder as he felt his own release building. He wrapped his arms around you to pull you up slightly in his arms, holding you so that you hovered over the bed as he pounded into you, holding you both up with his free hand on the mattress. The new angle had him going impossibly deeper, rubbing your clit against him with an intensity that finally pushed you over the boundary he had carefully pulled you from so many times. Your nails raked over his shoulders as you cried out. “Sylus! Yes!”

“That’s my good girl. Cum all over my cock. Fuck, you feel so good, baby… so tight,” he praised with a loud groan, rutting up into you as his own orgasm crashed over him. His grunts filled your ears, and it was his previous words coupled with them and his unrelenting ministrations that made your toes curl. Your body convulsed as wave after wave of pure bliss spiraled over your entire body. Your back arched into Sylus as his cum filled you, his thrusts not wavering as his body shook, ensuring he extended your pleasure as long as possible. 

Eventually, your cries subsided into soft, shuddering breaths as the tremors in your body slowly dissipated. Sylus sat back on his heels, holding you tightly the entire time you came down from your high, rubbing his hands down your back as you stayed wrapped around him. When your shaking stopped, he stood up from the bed. You stayed clutched to him as he walked to the washroom and started a bath. Sylus being Sylus, he added in his favorite epsom salts and relaxing bubble bath as the water filled up steadily. 

“My love, are you okay? I’ll hold you all night if you need, but I want to clean you up and take care of you. You did so well, but I know that had to be draining. Let me wash you then I’ll hold you so you can rest,” he whispered, rubbing his hands down your exposed ribs from where your arms were clasped like a restraint around his neck. He could feel your grip wavering and knew you were going to be out like a light as soon as your head laid down on his chest. You relented, loosening your grip in your legs around his waist as he wrapped his arm around your back and the other under your knees to lower you into the water. You sighed as you relaxed into it. 

“Just relax, I’ll take care of everything,” he said and kissed the top of your head. Methodically, he washed your body, almost like he was worshiping. He took care to be gentle around the sensitive junction of your thighs, kissing your shoulder when he lightly passed over it. He took a cup and filled it with water to run over your hair and began to wash it with his shampoo. She’s going to smell like me… he smiled to himself as he massaged your scalp. After washing it out, he combed through your hair with his fingers coated in conditioner. 

Sylus made sure to take extra good care of you after long sessions like the one today, diligently washing you, feeding you, massaging sore areas, or simply holding you so you know how much he loves you. After fully washing you and drying you off, he carried you back to the bed and laid you down among the mass of pillows and plushies you had “adopted” (as you put it). So beautiful... He smiled down at you, showing you all the love and tenderness he held in his heart for you. You smiled back sleepily and reached out for him to join you. He climbed in and gently pulled your head to his chest, rubbing his hand over your thigh in invitation for you to put it over his to rest. 

You snuggled into him as he kissed your head. “Thank you for taking care of me,” you whispered as you felt yourself beginning to drift off. Your speech slurred as sleep dragged you under. Sylus tightened his arms around you, his muscled chest hugging your cheek. 

“I will always take care of you, my love. You should know very well that I adore you. There is no love purer than mine. I love you, sweetie. Rest.”

[oneforthemunny]

made with love, my valentine |janitor!eddie munson x teacher!reader|

prompt: you recruit eddie's help to make valentines for your class.

contains: fluff. just lovey dovey, lovesick fluff. early in their relationship, but super sweet <3

“There?” 

Eddie grunted as lightly as he could, one hand holding the bouts of frilly, lace paper hearts, the other balancing the loaded staple gun that he should definitely not be holding so carelessly on a ladder. 

“Yes, that looks perfect.” You gave a quick nod from below, holding his ladder steady. 

Eddie caught a glimpse of the tiny smile you gave when your eyes met, beaming from the inside out the way you always did. His knees felt weak, heart skipping with an adrenaline rush of adoration and heat that poured out of his chest, crept all the way up to his cheeks. He hoped you couldn’t see, that his hair hid his blushing grin. 

“Perfect.” You grinned, stepping back when Eddie stepped down, work boots wedged into the old, creaky ladder. “That looks amazing. So much better than I could’ve done.”  

“I don’t think that’s true,” Eddie shook his head, looking around the fully decorated classroom. You’d gone all out. You always did, trying to make the holidays the very best for your kids. Decorating to the nines, even with the little supplies and budget you had. You were crafty, that was for sure, a talent that always left Eddie in complete and utter awe. 

“You did a helluva job without me. This place looks sick.” Eddie’s finger jammed against a paper heart that was dangling from the ceiling. 

“Sick is good right? Sick in a good way?” You giggled, light and airy. Eddie knew his heart was stopping. 

“Yeah, o-oh yeah, sorry, no, I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like sick, bad. No, sick-sick means good. Sick in a good way, like a cool way, ya know? Or that’s what I meant. When I use it, it means good and cool, n-not ew sick as in ill-” Eddie’s cheeks flamed, stammering around fumbled words. The last thing he wanted was to insult you, he would never.

“I’m joking with you, Ed.” You grinned, bumping your hip playfully against his. “I’m glad you like it. It took me hours.” 

“Right, yeah,” Eddie swallowed the lump in his throat. “Hours?” 

“Yeah, I mean, I had some of it from the years before, but most of the glue started coming undone, or they got all crinkled, so I had to start over.” You shook your head lightly. “My hands are completely torn apart. I have so many paper cuts.” You giggled, holding up your hands for Eddie to see. He had to fight the urge to hold them, intertwine your fingers in his like you had the weekend before. 

“Looks pretty gnarly, sweetheart.” Eddie sucked in a breath, pointer finger tracing over the cut on your knuckle, leaving you shuddering. “Should’ve asked me to help. Could’ve at least brought you some gloves to wear.” 

“It was fine. I did it during my planning period mostly.” Not a total lie. You had done most of it on your planning, and the other at home, until nearly two in the morning, when you were slumped over piles of shredded construction paper and glue sticks. 

“But, if you’re offering,” The sing-song in your voice had Eddie’s heart lurching with hope, trying to still himself, remain cool at your soft smile. “I do need to finish up making Valentine’s for the class.” 

You paused, giving him a tiny grin, lip tucked between your teeth. “And by finish, I mean I haven’t actually started.” Your lashes batted at him so sweetly, like you needed to sway him. Like he was on the fence of saying no, rejecting spending time with you? As if.   

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Eddie tried to play it cool, shoving his hands in his utility pants pockets. “Whatever you need me for. I’ve finished for the night, so y’know… ‘M all yours.” 

“Well,” You hummed, neck craning to look at the clock. “If you’re done, I thought maybe we could go back to my place?” Eddie was sure he was going to pass out, head reeling at your words. 

“I just think that would be a little more comfy just to not… be here, ya know? I can order us a pizza and we can knock these out.” You paused for a moment, really scanning Eddie’s features. “Maybe you could stay the night if you want? If it gets too late.” 

“Yes,” Eddie blurted before his mind could rationalize him stopping, eyes wide and words dripping with eagerness. “I mean, yeah, that would be… great.”  

“Great,” You repeated, your own heart thumping with excitement that spilled all the way to your face, lips curling in a wide grin. “I just, um, let me grab a few things, and- You remember where it is, right?” 

How could he forget? Eddie had been beyond nervous, palms too sweaty every time he came to pick you up. The handful of dates you’d been on were slowly becoming more and more frequent. 

“Yeah, I do.” Eddie’s lips twitched, swallowing down his excitement, maybe his nerves. “I just gotta put this up and lock up, and I’ll meet you there?” 

“See you in a few.” The words squeezed out of your chest, clutching your planner close to your body, slinging your purse over your shoulder. 

“Oh, is pepperoni okay with you?” You stopped, turning the lock to your classroom, your voice echoing down the dim lit hallway towards Eddie. Damn, he had moved fast with that ladder, practically sprinted down the hall. 

“Perfect for me.” Eddie called back, curls bobbing when he nodded. He’d nearly flung the ladder into the small hole of a janitor’s closet, snatching his lunch pail and keys before sprinting to the front, locking up and sailing down the cement stairs at the front of the school. 

Every second that went by was a second too long, tires flying over the snow dusted roads that led to your small home. The porch light was on when he arrived, bright and warm and welcoming. 

Eddie hesitated for a moment, whether he should ring the bell or just walk in. You knew he was coming, what would be the harm in going in? Still, it felt rude just to barge right in. Just to walk in felt arrogant, and what if you were naked? What if you were naked? Eddie’s cheeks began to heat, squirming at the thought. 

“Hey,” The door opened before Eddie could decide, leaving him standing there, wide eyed and blinking in your presence. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” You giggled, leaning against the doorframe lightly. 

“I couldn’t remember if I left it unlocked or not, and then I saw you standing here, so…” You trailed off, a little unsure of what to say, what not to say. It was all still so new. 

“Yeah, s-sorry, I, uh, I was just trying to see if I-I left my wallet in the van.” Eddie stuttered out a lie, patting his pocket for emphasis, heart slightly dropping when he didn’t feel it there. Shit, did he leave it in the van? 

“No worries, um, come on in.” You stepped back, opening the door for him. 

Eddie immediately was wrapped in a warmth, a soft, sweet aroma that smelt entirely yours. He loved it, the few times he’d come over, every time it left him just as light and airy. 

“Thanks so much for coming to help me.” You hummed, watching Eddie carefully from your place in the door frame as he shed his winter jacket, hanging it on the hook. “I thought I was going to be up all night again trying to make these.” 

“Again?” Eddie lifted a brow, his tone teasing. “Sweetheart, you just call me whenever, alright? I’ll come over any time and help you out. Even if it’s the middle of the night.” 

Your giggle was music to his ears, heart bursting at your smile. “That’s sweet, thank you.” Your smile warmed over him, left him spinning with desire. “I just need to finish these. I have six done, I think?” 

Eddie followed you into your kitchen, stacks of construction paper laid out with scissors and hot glue guns, a list of names propped on the middle. “It was easier last year. I only had twenty-two kids, but with the zoning and all these new kids coming in…” You shook your head lightly, thirty-three kids listed on the attendance sheet. Eddie remembered Steve bitching about it at the beginning of the school year. He still wasn’t sure how either one of you handled it, but you both made it work, despite the district uncaring. 

“Yeah, I bet it’s… rough.” Eddie nodded, pulling out a seat. “You just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. I’m yours for the night.” 

Your smile spread, sitting next to Eddie. You showed him how to cut the hearts out, hot glue the paper lace on the edges, then press the other heart on the back to hide it. Eddie made them, setting them to the side so you could address them. 

The better part of two hours was spent in your kitchen, giggling and chatting over pizza and beer, wiping your greasy fingers off on napkins so it didn’t stain the cards. You both wanted them to be pristine, perfect. 

“So, uh, what-” Eddie cleared his throat gently, trying to shake the rattle in his voice from his nerves. “What are you doin’ on Valentine’s Day?” 

He felt your eyes on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet your gaze. “A-Any big plans?” Eddie cringed at the tweaking crack in his voice. He felt like he was in junior high again, asking Lisa Caltrelli out to the Sweethearts Dance. He hoped you wouldn’t reject him like she did. 

“No,” Your voice squeaked in response, creasing the paper between your fingers from your tight grip. You don’t know why you were so nervous, I mean, Eddie and you had been out before. It shouldn’t have shocked you so much when he asked you, but still, you were filled with an excited thrill. 

“No, I-I didn’t really plan to do anything. I mean, I would like to, but I just… I haven’t made plans.” You winced at your babbled answer, anything but cool. 

There was a pause, one that left your heart dropping with fear, your hands shook when you cut out the heart on red construction paper. “Um, well, I-I was just wondering if, if you’re not busy- shit, well, I know you just said you’re not busy. I just- I was wondering if you’d want to maybe go and get dinner?” Eddie’s wide eyes met yours, rounded with complete and utter fear and hope, like a deer in headlights. 

“With me?” His mouth was dry, heart beating so fast he could feel it in his eyeballs, sweat starting to bead at his hairline.

You tried to swallow down your own excitement, heart soaring with adrenaline, biting back a wide grin and a squeal. “Yeah,” You nodded, lips curling and eyes shining. “Yeah, I would. I would love to go out with you again.” 

“Really?” Eddie blinked, the words falling from his mouth before he could stop them. “I mean, really? Uh, great, that sounds… great.” Eddie ducked his own head down, gluing the paper lace to the heart, hoping his curls hid his pink cheeks and dimpled grin. 

“I was thinking we could go to Dino’s- Do you like Italian food?” 

“Yeah, I do. Love Dino’s.” You nodded. 

“Great. Um, my buddy, Jeff is the manager there now, and they do this Valentine’s Day special. It’s- It’s not anything crazy, they just put like candles and rose petals and shit on the tables, but he said he could get us in.” Eddie’s knee bounced, buzzing with excitement. 

“That sounds amazing,” You tapped the pen against the table, lips twitching with a smile you tried to hide. “It’s a date.” 

Eddie laughed, grinning so wide you thought your heart might burst. “I’ll pick you up at seven? Is that enough time?” 

“That’s perfect. I’ll have to clean up after the Valentine’s Day party, but-” 

“-I’ll help you.” Eddie nodded eagerly. “I’ll swing by after I get done in the cafeteria. I’ll help you clean up.” 

“Thank you.” You smiled sheepishly, ducking back to your craft. 

Eddie’s hands were clammy when he leaned in to kiss you later that night, at your doorway, under the glow of the street lamp outside. He was even more surprised when you wrapped your arms around him, pulled him closer and deeper into the kiss, one that left you both swooning and heads swirling with adoration. 

The next morning, Eddie was beyond pumped, eager for the day, knowing he had a date tonight. He nearly missed the small red heart that was waiting on his desk- a Valentine, from you. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Eddie. I can’t wait to see you tonight.” 

[writtenbymoonflower]

smut requests, you say😏

well, how about fem reader with tasm!peter where he's feeling insecure about himself (we rarely get to see our boys insecure) and reader wants to make him feel good about himself and see how amazing he is in a more... physical way

sorry, i don't send in a lot of smut requests, though I love to read them!

-🔮

aww i love this! Thanks so much hunny! fem!reader x tasm!Peter Parker

cw: smut and suggestive material. mentions of insecurity, scars

673 words

You felt Peter tense under your fingertips as you trailed your hand up his torso. It wasn’t a pleasured shiver, but rather a pained wince, he had exhaled sharply and pulled away. You stopped kissing him, sitting back on his lap and inspecting him. 

“Did I do something?” You asked him, eyes wide and searching. Glossy at the thought of hurting him. 

“No, baby. You’re okay, just didn’t expect it. He stroked the back of your head, pulling you close to capture you in a long kiss. You let out a little gasp of surprise that he swallowed readily and braced your hands on his bare thigh, letting your fingers slip under the hem of his boxers. He tensed and shrunk again, pulling your hand up to wrap it around his arm. You stilled, pulling away again and curling your hands into yourself. 

“I did it again, you made that same sound.” 

“You didn’t do anything, I just-” He looked like he didn’t want to admit it. But it seemed like his want to reassure you and his flusteredness won out. “I just don’t like people touching me there.” He reached up to stroke your hair cajolingly again. 

“Why?” You asked, searching and sorrowful.

“I just don’t like people looking or feeling there. I got minced up pretty bad in some fights. Left some parts of me lookin’ kinda weird.” He explained, wincing. 

“It’s not weird, nothing on you is.” You looked so dejected it broke Peter’s heart. “You’re so pretty, Pete.” You muttered. 

“Baby,” He scoffed out a laugh. “It’s nothing, really. You don’t have to try and make me feel better.” 

“But I want to.” You said quickly, leaving no room for argument. “Can I see, please?” It was clear he was somewhat hesitant, but he unfurled himself enough for you to inspect his body. His lack of clothes from your planned activity made it easy to see the roughened and scarred skin covering his body in certain areas. It was varying colors and shapes, but they were all pretty in their own way. Knit skin reflected and shone, flashing and pulling. It was mesmerizing. 

“Pretty gnarly, I know.” He joked. 

“I like them,” You shuffled down his lap, leaning into his inner thigh to kiss the scars there. He inhaled sharply, shivering from the contact. You kept going, gently moving your lips over the healed skin, knowing it was probably extra-sensitive. “They’re pretty.” You looked up at him, all doe-eyed. He could feel himself stiffening, the love and contact and kissing all too much for his body as you gently trailed your fingers over the tent in his boxers, making him shudder. 

“Fuck, babe.” He groaned. “Get up here, I wanna kiss you.” He smoothed his palm over your hair and neck as you kissed up his torso, brushing your lips against the scars on his ribs, moving up his neck until you were facing him. 

“I love you, Peter. So, so much. I love every part of you.” You said earnestly. His eyes crinkled with fondness. Ne was no longer thinking about his scars or skin or whatever else. All he could focus on was how soft your touch was and how sweetly you were looking at him. It made his heart ache and his dick twitch. 

“Love you so much, sweet thing.” He said before grabbing your face and smashing your lips against his. You tried to kiss him sweetly, but he quickly roughened, hot tongue licking into your mouth greedily. A horrible sound was pulled from the back of your throat as he pulled you into his lap, your core dragging over his hard bulge. You pulled away and he whined, trying to grab at you. 

“Peter,” You pleaded. “Let me love on you, please.” He quickly caught your meaning as you slid off the bed onto your knees. He wasn’t about to deny, especially when you were looking at him like that. 

“Fuck, sweetness” He groaned as he tugged off his boxers. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

[puckinghischier]

Shadow Puppets

Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary: reader is terrified of storms, but Nico makes sure she never has to brave them alone

notes: hi!! long time no see! this is a little self indulgent, not gonna lie. i started this last week when some pretty gnarly storms were coming through my town and i struggled finishing it because, surprise, i was scared 🫣. anyways, i hope you enjoy!! happy reading!! 🫶🏼

[3.3k]

~

Storms have never been something that you enjoyed. You don’t understand the appeal of the angry rumbles and blinding flashes that litter the sky during a thunderstorm.

Ever since you were a little girl storms have been high on your fear list. Anytime you saw the purplish-gray of the sky, you were doing everything in your power to drown out the incoming storm.

Much like you were right now. You had just turned a movie on in the living room, volume high enough that you worried your upstairs neighbors could hear. Every curtain in the apartment was drawn closed, preventing you from seeing any flash of lightning that would dance across the dark sky.

Your last line of defense was usually white noise being played through a speaker on low volume to further try and drown out the rumbles that are starting to sound closer by the second. Well, it will be your last line of defense, if you could just find the wireless speaker.

It wasn’t in its normal spot in the kitchen junk drawer, nor was it in the bathroom. It wasn’t in your boyfriend’s practice bag, knowing he sometimes takes it to the rink with him when he hits the gym after a morning skate.

You had looked in both your bedroom and the spare room, the guest bathroom, the hallway closet, the various shelves around the living room, in-between the couch cushions, and you had even braved stepping out onto your small balcony to search for it before rushing back inside after a particularly bright flash of lightning.

It was nowhere to be found.

While you were on all fours on the floor trying to see if it had somehow rolled under the couch, you heard the familiar chime of your ringtone coming from the table behind you, startling you a bit.

Seeing your boyfriend’s name flash on the screen, you pick up the phone immediately, speaking a small hello into the device just as an especially loud crack of thunder rings out.

“Hey, Schatz. You okay? Just heard the storm outside, knew you were home alone and wanted to check on you during intermission. Got all of your safety nets in place?” Nico’s worried voice hurries out, slightly out of breath.

The Devils were hosting a charity scrimmage tonight, the proceeds going to a local youth hockey program. Nico had offered for you to come and watch, but you had been wanting to catch up on the reality shows he always complained about watching with you. When he left a few hours earlier, the sky was blue and there were no clouds to be seen.

You didn’t regret your decision until thirty minutes ago when your phone started blaring an alarm with a severe storm warning alert.

“Yeah, I’m okay for right now. Have a movie on and the curtains are closed. I can’t find the speaker, though. Do you remember where you last saw it?” you ask him, placing the phone on speaker so you can continue to search.

“Oh Schatz, I’m so sorry,” Nico starts, regret joining the worry in his tone. “I have the speaker with me. Put it in my game bag this morning. Went and got a few reps in the gym in before warm-ups today. I didn’t look at the forecast before I left, I didn’t know you’d need it.”

Your stomach drops at his confession, your anxiety spiking. You needed the speaker in order to fully drown out the thunder. It was something you and your mom had come up with when you were a kid to help you sleep if it was storming at night. You hadn’t tried to get through a storm without the technique since.

“It’s…it’s okay, Neeks. Really. I’ll be fine,” you start, trying to hide the anxious quiver of your voice. “It’s just a little-“ your sentence gets interrupted by a boom of thunder so loud you could feel the vibrations from the floor you were currently kneeled on.

Nico’s guilt only increases at the yelp you let out, his heart breaking further when he hears the whimper you tried to hide afterwards.

“Y/N are you sure you’re okay? I can try to see if Nicole can come over for a bit? Jesper said she stayed home, too. Or I can send someone to come get you and bring you here if you want?” he offers, hating the fact you’re in the apartment alone.

“No, it’s okay. It’ll probably be over by then, anyways, right?” you ask, needing the reassurance that it was only a short storm.

“Yeah, baby, I’m sure it’s almost over. Just turn the tv up and grab your weighted blanket. I’ll be home as soon as I can, okay?”

“Okay,” you squeak out, another low rumble coming from the world outside.

“I love you, okay? I’ll call again to check on you next intermission. Be home before you know it, Schatz.”

“Love you too, Neeks. Play safe,” you tell him before hanging up the phone.

You take his advice and find the weighted blanket he bought you last year after a particularly nasty storm had come through when he was away on a roadie.

He read online that the pressure could help comfort people during anxiety inducing moments, so he had one delivered to your shared apartment the next day. You were extremely thankful for it, especially in moments like this, but nothing can replace having Nico here with you to comfort you during an especially rough storm.

You were trying really hard to focus on the movie, having raised the volume even more to supplement the loss of the noise from the speaker, but the noises from the storm outside only got louder and louder.

You could hear the wind whipping around the tall building you were in, adding a whole new layer to your current distress. Checking your phone constantly, you knew it was still only a severe storm, no further warnings had been issued, but you were starting to get worried the bad weather was here to stay.

Resorting to laying on the couch with eyes closed and hands over your ears to muffle the sounds, your fear had reached its peak. You felt embarrassed, wondering why you couldn’t just find comfort in the harsh weather like a normal person. Instead, you were laying on your couch in a fetal position with your hands covering your ears as a grown woman.

Another intense crack infiltrated your apartment, causing your shaking body to jump, eyes snapping open. Just as you were able to calm your racing heart, you were suddenly covered in darkness.

It felt like someone had just dumped ice water all over your body, every nerve alert with fear. You sat completely still, waiting for the warm lights to flicker back on.

The longer you sat waiting, the worse you felt.

There was no way you could survive this storm with no power. There was nothing to block out the wind and thunder. There was nothing to lessen the bright flashes of light through the curtains. You were so paralyzed by fear you couldn’t even make the short trek to the kitchen to grab a flashlight or light the various candles littered throughout the apartment.

While debating with yourself about if you were going to be brave enough to get up off the couch and walk through the dark apartment, you heard the lock on your front door unlock with a click.

Every movement in your body stopped, including the rise and fall of your chest. You held your breath and sat as still as you could, more petrified with fear than you had ever been before.

Who was coming into your apartment in the middle of a storm like this? The only other people with keys were Nico and your landlord. One of those people was in the middle of a hockey game twenty minutes away.

A new wave of fear washed over you. What if it was your landlord coming in because he had to evacuate the building? Was the storm that bad? It sounded that bad, but you were always a terrible judge at what classified a storm as bad.

Any storm was bad to you. The slightest rumble of thunder had you wanting to dive under the nearest table like a child.

The door creaked open, squeaky footsteps making their way into your apartment. You continued to lay there, unmoving.

“Schatz? You in here?” you heard a familiar accent call out, all tension in your body disappearing at the sound.

Your body springs up into a sitting position, turning your head to look behind the couch, the sight in front of you almost causing relieved tears to well in your eyes.

Nico stood by the closed door, hanging his dripping jacket on one of the many hooks on the wall in front of him. His soaking wet hair was adding to the puddle on the floor left by his jacket.

He was wearing a pair of athletic shorts and one of his Devils hoodies, the latter only slightly drier than the jacket he had just removed.

He shook out his hair, making you bite back a giggle at how he resembled a dog shaking out its fur, before looking up and seeing your alert eyes peeking over the couch at him.

“Oh, Schatz, are you okay?” he sighed as he made his way over to you.

His socks audibly squished as he rounded the end of the couch, coming to crouch before you.

He took your hands in his own, making you flinch at how cold they were.

Bringing his lips down to blow onto your intertwined hands, he mumbles out a “M’sorry, I wasn’t here, pretty girl.”

You meet his eyes through his wet eyelashes, admiring how pretty he looks right now, brain still catching up to the fact he’s here.

Staring at him while he warms his hands with your own, you remember that he was supposed to still be at the charity game right now, having only called you at the beginning of the first intermission not even thirty minutes ago.

As soon as you open your mouth to question him, you were reminded of the reason for your current state.

A blinding flash of light illuminates the dark apartment, thunder rumbling almost immediately after.

Slamming your eyes shut to try to block the sight, you try to move your hands to your ears once again, but they’re still clutched between both of Nico’s.

You feel the couch next to you sink underneath his body weight, his arms moving to come around your shoulders as he hugs your body into his.

His hand moves up and down your arm in a soothing motion, a small “shhh” coming out of his mouth as his lips rest against your temple.

“You’re safe, darling. You’re alright. I’m here,” he says softly on repeat, working you through the moment of panic.

You allow your body to sink into his, reveling in the comfort that his presence brings you.

“That’s it, just relax. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, alright?”

After several minutes of relishing Nico’s presence, you finally lean back and put a small amount of distance between the two of you.

He moves his hands to smooth down your hair and cup your face, tilting your head up so he can look into your eyes and make sure you’re okay.

As you give him a small smile, he leans forward and places a kiss first on the tip of your nose and then moves his lips up to rest on your forehead.

He pulls back, leaving your face trapped in-between his hands, speaking softly.

“Power went out, didn’t it, Schatz?”

You simply nodded, finding it hard to speak with your cheeks squished.

He starts rubbing his thumbs back and forth on your cheeks, “Scared you when it went out, huh? That why you look so startled when I came in?”

You nodded again, starting to feel a little silly with the chipmunk cheeks he’s caused you to have.

“Well, let’s go fix that, shall we?” Nico finally removes his hands from your face, standing up and reaching his hand out to help you stand from the couch.

He leads you into the kitchen, stopping at the drawer that holds a lighter and flashlights for occasions like this one. He grabs two flashlights out of the drawer, turning one on and handing it to you.

Taking his own flashlight, he turns it on and immediately places it directly under his chin, pulling a face in the shadow of the light coming from the plastic.

His actions cause you to giggle, rolling your eyes at how childish your big, ‘scary’ hockey player can be.

“There she is. Knew I could get that cute little laugh out of you,” he beams, proud of his success.

He grabs the lighter and takes your hand once again, leading you around to every candle you have placed around the apartment. You hold the flashlights as he lights each candle until every last one is lit and the apartment is bathed in golden light once again.

The two of you end up back on the couch sharing your weighted blanket as Nico becomes your buffer to the storm outside. You sit with your head resting against his chest for a little while before you remembered that he wasn’t supposed to be here right now.

You raise your head up and sit back, situating yourself so you’re halfway facing him while still being tucked into his side.

“You’re not supposed to be here right now.”

Nico moves his head back and looks at you like you’re crazy.

“What?” he says through a chuckle, amused at how random you words were.

“I mean, you’re supposed to be at the charity game right now. You called me during the first intermission, you should be playing in the third period by now,” you explain your outburst.

Nico laughs, shaking his head. “For a second I got worried you were about to kick me out, Schatz.”

“Nico, I’m being serious,” you roll your eyes. “Why did you leave the game early? Is everything okay at the rink? Did the storm damage something?”

Nico looks over at you, a fond smile on his face.

“Have I told you how pretty you look today?” is all he says in response, bringing a finger up to stroke from your temple down to your chin.

You move your head away from his hand and scoff, annoyed at his avoidance.

“Nico…” you warn.

He sighs, knowing you’re not going to be happy with his answer.

“I left early.”

“You…left early?” you parrot his words back to him, unimpressed.

“Yes, I left early. I told them there was an emergency here and I needed to get home to you, so I left,” he explains, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. “It was just a charity game, anyways. We were playing against our own guys, not like it was anything they couldn’t do without me.”

You fully remove yourself from him and sit back on your heels. He frowns at the loss of contact as he readjusts himself to sit up straighter.

“Nico, you can’t just leave a game like that!” you scold him. “Think about how excited those kids were to see you play tonight. The fact that it was a charity game should have made it even more important.”

You cross your arms, glaring at him for how bad this could make him look.

“Y/N, you were here, alone, during a raging storm. When I called, I could feel how scared you were through the phone. I knew as soon as the lights flickered at the arena, I couldn’t leave you here by yourself,” he explained, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You argued anyways.

“Nico, think about how bad this could make you look. ‘Devils captain leaves charity game early because his girlfriend is a scaredy-cat and can’t stay by herself during a silly little thunderstorm’” you put on your best sportscaster voice for the last sentence.

It was Nico’s turn to roll his eyes at you, shaking his head at your words.

“First of all, don’t count on a job with ESPN anytime soon,” you swat at his chest. “Second of all, I appreciate your concern about my image and my job, but I don’t care.”

“You should! You should care, Nico. You’re the captain. You need to care more than anyone else,” you cry out at him.

Nico grabs your hands in midair as you wave them around to emphasize your words.

“Schatz, I. Don’t. Care.” He pauses, trying to let the words sink in. “You know why I don’t care? Because you will always come first, do you hear me?”

Your mouth snaps shut, the intensity of the way he’s looking at you making you still.

“My job is just a game. It will always be just a game. A game that I’m thankful that I get to play every day, don’t get me wrong, but at the end of every day, it’s just a game.” He pauses again, making sure you understand him.

You don’t even flinch at the thunder that rings out around you, too caught up in the moment that’s happening between you and Nico right now.

“You, my pretty girl, are not a game. You’re the absolute best thing that has ever, and will ever, happen to me. You’re the biggest priority in my life, not hockey. I could quit hockey tomorrow and be just fine as long as I still have you to come home to every day. You’re the one thing I can’t lose. So yeah, I don’t care if I’m missing a scrimmage right now. They don’t need me. You did. So, here I am, exactly where I’m ‘supposed to be’” he mocks your earlier statement.

By the end of his speech you have tears in your eyes, not because of the storm this time.

You smile at him, an emotional tear slipping down your cheek, Nico’s hand reach out to wipe it away before you could wiggle one of your own from his hold.

“I love you, you know that?” you tell him, leaning your cheek into his open palm. “But you’re still stupid for leaving the game early,” you add at the end.

“Love you more, Schatz. Always.” He responds with a slight chuckle, ignoring the second part of what you said, bringing your face to his.

Your lips meet in a sweet, loving kiss. You rest your foreheads against one another before Nico pulls back, dropping his hand from your face.

“Now, I do believe we have some powerless entertainment to partake in,” he tells you, wiggling his eyebrows at your suggestively.

You lean in towards him once again, cocking an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“Oh…Yeah” he leans back in, his hot breath fanning on your face with his words.

You catch his arm moving out of the corner of your eye, not wanting to remove your gaze from his face to find out what he was doing.

The staring contest the two of you had going on was starting to make you squirm when you hear a click ring out from in-between your bodies, light erupting through what little space is there.

You look down to see one of the flashlights from earlier in his hand, a cheeky grin on his face. Looking back up, you give him a confused look.

“It’s time for shadow puppets!” he excitedly bursts, moving the flashlight to shine on the wall, holding up his pointer and middle fingers to make a shadow bunny on the wall.

You burst out into belly laughs, body falling over his, head landing in his lap.

“C��mon, now, get up, its your turn,” he sits you up, handing you the flashlight.

As you look over at Nico, an expectant look on his face, you suddenly don’t care if it storms all night and the power never comes back on. As long as Nico’s with you, nothing could ruin the happiness running through your veins in this moment.

[gyllenhaalstories]

FREAK LIKE ME — ELWOOD DALTON x PLUS SIZE! READER ❤️‍🩹

summary: what doesn't kill you makes you freakier, amirite?

warnings: blood & injury, smut (mild blood kink, praise kink, blowjob, nipple play, titjob). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 2120

gifs credits: @/tay-swifts (cropped) / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: me? writing for dalton again? groundbreaking. ❣️🩹 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

"Hey, Doc," Dalton smiled. "Do I need surgery?"

You walked away from the sink, holding your clean hands in the air as to not soil them. "Sorry." Your chin pointed at the counter. Dalton climbed on it, next to all of the medical supplies, while you sat on a chair in front of him. "You're a lost cause."

"That's a rough diagnosis." He shrugged lightly, his smile widened when you took a closer look at the old bandage.

You sighed and only then his smile faded a bit.

"I tried." He answered before you could reprimand him.

You had told him to be careful and avoid abrupt movements, you could not have asked something more impossible than that.

"They started it. I had to end the fight and... Yeah." Another shrug, but this time he winced when you detached the bandage off his skin. The feeling of the glue pulling at his skin and the wound exposed to the air reminded him it was not all fun and games. He forgot about that reminder pretty quickly.

You disposed of the old gauze and started to clean the stabbing wound. You liked to do most of those tasks in silence, focused on taking care of your man.

The silence left more space for Dalton's noises to be heard. The winces, whimpers and gasps echoed loudly in your mind while you patched his wound. There were moans too. Lots of them.

When you first helped him out with his situation, having failed to convince him that nurses were better suited for the task, you figured the moans were just how he expressed his pain.

Maybe it truly was his way to express it. You thought that when you got hurt for as long as he did, the reactions were numbed. Instead of a scream, that was what he would do. You were not wrong, only you were not exactly right.

Because Dalton loved the pain, in a masochist type of way that you still had trouble to understand. He said multiple times before how he liked "to pay for it".

You had never questioned him further. You had never explored this further. Maybe, just maybe, you could entertain this part of him...

"Hey, you good?" He noticed how you stalled, there was concern and worry laced in his voice.

You cleared your throat, realizing that you were lost in your thoughts. "Yeah. It's just..." You scrambled for an answer and pulled open the wrapping of the new bandage. "It looks gnarly."

"You should see the other guy." Dalton scoffed, but suddenly he flinched with his lips curled up and face scrunching. He waited for a second or two, then he breathed out. "Oooh, that hurts."

You watched his reaction closely while you pressed your hand on the bandage, hoping this one will last for longer than a few hours.

His eyes locked with yours. He smiled, again. "I'm not complaining."

You stroked your thumb over his skin while he enjoyed the moment, not pulling away just yet.

His body relaxed, getting used to the pressure against the lesion. Oh yeah, he was loving it.

You stood up and he was visibly disappointed. You were not gone for long, you washed your hands and joined him by the counter again. "You're a freak. You know that, right?"

"I'm aware." He wore that title with pride like a champion's belt.

You pulled your shirt above your head and disposed of it on the floor. You held Dalton's gaze while you knelt down in front of him. Your shirt serving as a thin pillow for your knees.

He stood up, immediately searching for something better that would not hurt your body, but your hands were already busy unzipping his jeans.

You took in the view of the striking contrast between the white bandage and his tan skin. You drank in the sight of Dalton towering over you while your eyes explored his abdomen and chest, all the way up to his face that was painted with a layer of curiosity.

But mostly lust. He watched you struggle to pull his free his cock from his clothes. "Good job." He praised you when you peppered kisses over his semi hard cock.

You stuck your tongue out and licked a few long strands along his shaft before you took him in your mouth.

Dalton's grunts got louder as he got harder at the feeling of your tongue teasing him. "I told you..."

You pulled your head back and twirled your tongue around his tip. You looked up at him and batted your eyes with a hint of innocence that made him smirk.

"It's better when you do it instead."

You knew he mostly referred to his aversion to hospitals (and pain killers), but the way he started to slowly push his cock deeper into your mouth confirmed his words had a double meaning.

He loved what you were doing right now, he loved how you turned him on with just a touch, but he also loved the attention and care you poured into your actions and into making sure that he was as safe as he could be. Not many people cared about him, at least not after the events. All he needed was you.

He snapped you back to reality when he made you gag around his cock. You pulled back, hands leaning on your thighs while you tried to breathe through the coughing.

"It's okay, breathe slowly. You can do it." He walked you through every step of the process so you did not panic at the sudden lacks of oxygen. "I know, it always takes you by surprise but you love it, don't you? I love it too." He spoke, softly, and he presented his tip to your shaky chin. He gathered some of the spit and your lips parted open for him. "I love it when you gag on my cock."

Another harsh thrust hit the back of your throat and tears pooled in your eyes. You held on his strong thighs instead and, somehow, that helped.

"I love it even more when you cry like this. So beautiful." He placed a gentle hand on the side of your face, his thumb caressing your cheek. You melted against his hand, but he used this sweet gesture to set the pace.

Your head bopped back and forth on his length, each time you took him better and deeper. You felt a bit less scared of the gagging, though it happened plenty of times. You figured out a long time ago that you would never get used to just how big your man truly was.

Dalton began to properly fuck your face, never pulling you too far away from him. He loved to feel you struggle around him. He loved to feel your hands try and grasp at something, anything, to help you stay focus and not push him off. He especially loved the way you pressed on his wound.

You earned the loudest moan you had heard from him today. So, you increased the pressure of your palm against the bandage and you toyed with his pain tolerance that was terrifyingly high.

Dalton played with you instead. He tested just how much you could take, keeping his cock so deep that your nose brushed over his shaved skin and that your chin touched his balls that were now covered in spit.

He gave you breaks to catch your breath and you smiled at him every time. He told you, over and over again, just how pretty you looked for him down there until your cheeks warmed up from all the praise and compliments.

So he shoved his cock inside of you again, with a newfound sense of urgency. He was getting close and you could feel it by the way he throbbed heavily in your mouth. You could hear it, too, with the melody of grunts and moans that he made. Dalton lost a bit of the mercy he was known to save only for you. He was chasing his own high and you happily let him.

Your left hand rested on his waist, nails digging into his flesh as you tried to take his pounding. On the other side, you kept pressing his wound. The more he winced and he scrunched his face in pain, the more you knew that he was enjoying himself.

It took more tears on your face, more muffled moans around his cock and a few more thrusts for Dalton to cum in your throat. So far down, you had no choice but to swallow his load. He pulled out, slowly, and smiled from ear to ear at the mess of spit and cum that covered both your face and his cock. He nodded briefly, giving you permission to clean up the mess.

You earned another good job, spoken in that soft voice of his that made your brain melt into a puddle. Just like you did at the beginning, you left small kisses all over his body. You focused on his defined v-line and puffy abs while working your way up.

Dalton helped you to stand up, guessing that all this time spent on your knees might have hurt a bit. "Easy, easy. I got you." He supported your arms until you were back up on your feet, then he insisted you sat down.

You did not protest, you were at the perfect angle now. You wrapped your arms around his waist, dragging your hands across his skin. You brushed over the bandage, only then noticing a touch of red through the material. You pressed a kiss in the valley between his pecs.

Kisses that continued until a faint grunt emanated from Dalton's mouth.

You wrapped your lips around his small nipple, your tongue twirled around it. You closed your eyes and enjoyed the feeling, too.

Dalton pressed his body against yours when you gave the same treatment to the other sensitive bud.

You licked, sucked and nibbled on his nipples just the way he liked it.

He melted in your arms, your warm breath tickled the skin of his chest. It was still crazy to you how such a strong man could barely resist the gentle touch of your lips.

Soon enough, you left his chest as drooly and messy as his cock. That did not stop you, you were fuelled by all of his little reactions.

Heavy breathing, high pitched moans, his hips jerking forward. You loved everything that he was giving you.

You could feel his bulge pressing against you and this was the only reason that convinced you to pull away. You wanted more of him, you wanted to feel him so bad. As if he could read your mind, Dalton cut you off.

"You think you can give me all this attention," Dalton took a deep breath. "And I won't do the same to your pretty tits?" He leaned forward, crashing his lips against yours with a hungry kiss while he took the opportunity to let his hands wander over your skin. He caressed his way from your neck and down on your arms until his rough hands landed on your hips. He squeezed your flesh for a moment before moving upwards to fondle your breasts, only then being reminded of the presence of your bra that he unhooked effortlessly.

"But Dalton," you whined, watching your bra land on the floor. "I need you." He groaned, encouraging you to keep using your words. "I need you to fuck me, please." He hooked a finger under your chin, making you look up at him. "Please."

"You know I can go for a third round." He scoffed, amused by the way you insinuated that this moment you shared would end so soon. Then, his voice dropped lower, his ocean blue eyes appeared darker. "I can go for as many rounds as I want." He rectified himself.

You moaned sinfully, watching him stroke his cock to full hardness again.

"Hold them, yeah, just like that." You pressed your tits together, he pushed his cock in the small gap between them. Spit fell from your lips and dripped down on your chest. "That's my good fucking girl." He used the spit as lube and started to fuck your tits.

Not once did his eyes lose sight of you, your face turned him on just as much as the feeling of your tits on his sensitive cock. "You're a little freak like me, huh?"

His gaze fell down to your chest, he grunted again at the sight of his precum glistening on your skin. You looked at each other with lustful eyes. Dalton smiled. "If only you knew."

[lipglossanon]

October 30th

Kink: Rape play

Pairing: Corrupt Cop!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader (feat. Jack Krauser & Luis Serra)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, rape play, cnc, dirty talk, degradation, humiliation, slight predator/prey, bullying, voyeurism, controlling Leon, unprotected sex, creampie

not proofread

A few of Leon’s work friends are having a bonfire out in Arklay; their own little shindig away from the usual drunken rowdiness of bars and overcrowded clubs. You’re invited along of course. 

“Can’t leave my pretty girl all alone, can I?” His dark tone sends shivers down spine. 

Shaking your head no, you went along with him and now, you’re seated on a log next to the warm flame of their fire. Leon’s sitting next to you, arm over your shoulders to keep you tucked into his side while he talks with his buddies. 

You thought there would be more to this hangout but aside from you and Leon, there’s only two other guys. Leon introduced the dark haired one as Luis and the other with a gnarly scar twisting across his face as Krauser. It’s an odd first name you think, but maybe he’s German. 

They talk a lot about their jobs, things that go over your head with references and inside jokes of people and places you’ve never seen. Instead of feeling left out though, it’s actually nice that you can just sit next to Leon and enjoy the atmosphere—no need to make small talk with anyone. That’s not to say they don’t rope you into the conversation from time to time; but, you mostly sit on the sideline, eyes bouncing from person to person as they talk with each other.

It’s late when they start to act like they’re wrapping things up; Luis puts away the cooler and drinks with Krauser helping. Leon helps you stand, warm hands brushing over your ass and making you glance to him nervously. 

“Think it’s time for a little fun,” he murmurs against your ear. 

“Fun?” You repeat, brows pinching with the question. 

“Fun,” he states, blue eyes glittering in the low light. “We’re going to play my favorite game, the same as we played last year. Make sure to sell it, sweetheart.”

Pulse hammering in your throat, you nod jerkily, panties quickly becoming sticky with slick. Leon chasing you down to fuck you in the woods is always a fun time and it never gets old. Your tongue wets your bottom lip and his eyes track the movement, pupils dilating subtly. 

“Yes, daddy,” you whisper, sucking your wet bottom lip into your mouth. 

Turning, you walk towards his car parked under the trees some distance away. You swerve past the bumper and walk deeper into the forest. Once you feel you’re far enough, you pick up the pace. You think you hear Leon’s dark laugh somewhere in the distance, but you don’t stop to ponder it. 

You try and run, but your head’s out of sorts from the idea being sprung on you, so it’s not your best on display. The thrill of hearing Leon chase after you makes your heart race. It’s not long at all before his thick arms wrap around your chest and stomach, yanking you back against him. 

“Think you can get away? You little slut,” he rasps against your ear, tongue running across the shell. “Just for that, I’m gonna fuck this hot pussy right here, right now.”

“You can’t!” You wail. “Please, don’t, please.”

His palm covers your mouth, “There’ll be plenty of time for begging later, pretty girl.”

You twist and squirm against him, but all it does is grind his stiff cock against your ass. Arousal pools low in your belly and you whimper behind his hand. Chuckling low in his throat, Leon makes quick work of your panties, ripping them from your body and tossing them down onto the forest floor. 

A low whistle from the side makes you jerk your head, eyes widening to see Leon’s friends watching you two. 

Leon whispers in your ear, “Aren’t you going to ask them for help?”

“P-please,” tears bead your waterline, embarrassment a hot stone in your chest. “Please help me. H-he’s raping me.”

“Look at that,” Krauser grins, palming his bulge. “What a slut.”

Luis laughs. “Aren’t we the lucky ones, eh, amigo?”

They must be in on it, too. The thought only makes your pussy wetter. While they distract you, Leon undoes his jeans and pulls his dick out. Notching the head at your clenching heat, he thrusts his dripping cock deep inside your pussy with a groan.

“Nooo, help me, please,” you cry out, pussy clamping down on Leon’s cock as he splits you open. “Stop, you’re hurting me!”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” he laughs meanly in your ear. “Fuck, feels like this soft pussy’s aching for a good fuck.” 

You turn pleading eyes up to the two men in front of you, watching as they each take their cocks out, jerking off to the scene of you and Leon. More slick leaks down your thighs, clit throbbing as you watch them get off. Leon shifts his hands down to grip your waist. He pinches your side and you hiccup a moan. 

Lips trembling, you call out, “H-help me.”

“Fuuuck,” Krauser grunts, stroking his thick cock in a meaty fist. “Beg me harder and I might help, sweet thing.”

“Please, please,” you choke out a whine, clit throbbing while Leon pounds into your sopping wet cunt. “Ohh, he’s raping my little pussy and you’re just watching.”

All three men moan and Leon slaps your ass. 

“Yeah, baby, tell’em how it feels to have your sweet little pussy raped,” he goads, fingers digging into the fat of your hips. “Gripping me so tight, like you don’t even want me pulling out. Hungry for my cock, aren’t you?”

“Nooo,” you whimper, tits bouncing with every thrust. “You’re being mean and gross.” 

Louis spits into his palm and jerks himself off a little rougher, “Can’t believe you’d just let him fuck your tight pussy like that, cariño. You’re basically asking for it.”

A shudder runs through your body, pussy gushing around Leon’s pistoning cock. 

“Getting rawed like that must feel pretty good,” Krauser cuts in, “she’s not even putting up that much of a fight.”

They both laugh and it makes your stomach burn, heat pooling low in your core.

“She’s so fucking tight,” Leon bites out. “Gonna make me cum in your breedable little pussy, aren’t you? Fucking slut.”

He hisses the last part, fingers digging so tight into your skin it hurts. You’re so turned on, knowing the two men in front of you—practically strangers—are beating off to your struggle, to the faux rape taking place mere feet in front of them. Leon’s pounding your sopping wet pussy so hard, the tip kisses your cervix sending a dull wave of pain that twists into pleasure. 

“Stop, stop, please, I don’t want this,” you babble, lashes fluttering while your toes curl in their shoes. “I don’t wanna cum on your cock.”

“Stuff that greedy pussy, Leon,” Luis cuts in with a groan, hand a blur as he fists his cock again and again. “Make her cream all over your cock.”

“Yeah, make that bitch cum,” Krauser tacks on with a low pant.

Leon laughs and it makes you whine, “Don’t worry, this little hole’s going to cum whether she wants it or not. Then, I’m going to fill her up like the cumdump she is. Right, sweetheart?”

“Nooo,” you protest weakly, pussy walls fluttering and clenching on his cock. Your hands reach back and claw at his arms. “Stop it, you’re going to ruin my pussy.”

“Fuck,” he bites out. “Always know just what to say, don’t you? Yeah, take it, you fucking whore. It’s not rape if you’re this wet, baby.”

He sinks his teeth into the side of your neck and it topples you over the edge, climax hitting you like a ton of bricks. White sparks light up behind your eyes while your body jerks and twitches against his hold. You scream, pussy milking and fluttering around his cock as he fucks you through your orgasm. 

Body relaxing, you slump back against him, legs noodles and making Leon hold you in place. He doesn’t stop rutting his fat cock into your cunt, groaning and sighing against the back of your neck while he fucks you until he spills hot and thick inside you. You briefly think about the men watching it take place, but you’re too tired to care now. 

Their voices wash over you like white noise as they walk closer. Leon eases out of your messy pussy with a low grunt, fingers patting against your cum covered slit. 

“Oye, thanks for the fun night.”

Leon hums, “Don’t expect it too often.”

“Of course not, comrade.”

All three laugh and then Leon’s hoisting you up into his arm. 

“Can we see?”

A cool breeze drifts across your wet pussy when Leon flips your skirt up. A low whistle comes from somewhere to your left. 

“Mi corazón, what a delicious sight.”

“Wouldn’t want to let us have a little taste now would ya, Kennedy?”

“Both of you can go fuck yourselves.”

Leon’s voice shifts into that cold tone that makes you stiffen against him. He drops a quick kiss to your hairline and begins to walk off, back to his car you assume. 

“Let’s get back home so I can make out with that hot pussy, pretty girl,” he murmurs down at you and you whine in reply. 

[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 💗🫶

[boneblushed]

Glitch

synopsis Rafe has a bad fall on the ski slopes. A temporary amnesiac, he falls in love with you all over again.

a/n oh Euro Trip Rafe I have missed you so bad 🥹

The velcro of your left glove snags, the worn edge catching on the handle of your ski pole. You sigh. The gauntlet cuff on the right side isn’t looking much better, all scruffy and threadbare so the underlying skin’s exposed.

“Hold on,” you call out, skidding to a reluctant stop.

It’s high time you replaced them with a newer pair, especially considering you’ve been using the same gear your parents bought you post middle-school growth spurt. But you don’t come to Aspen nearly enough to justify doing so at the moment; not that money’s a particular issue, it’s more so the inconvenience an unnecessary shopping trip will bring you.

“Dude. Again?”

You abandon the broken strap to send Topper a helpless frown. He’s a little way ahead, partially obscured by the crowd, but the exasperation on his face is made evident by his tone.

He draws nearer and glances down at the shaggy velcro, shaking his head disapprovingly. “We’ve gotta buy you a new pair.”

Above him, the sky is a gauzy blue, juxtaposing the sugary white hue of fresh snow.

“Not worth it Top,” you argue. The strap hitches again, an objection. “They’ll barely get used.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he answers, turning again. “Come on. I’m going to buy you a new pair.”

He’ll buy you a new one, your heart sings. And then it stops. You know better than to read into this gesture — he isn’t being chivalrous on purpose; when is he ever? This is the fourth time you’ve had to stop to untangle or readjust, and you’re pretty sure he’s just getting sick of you holding him up. Logic prevails, but your traitorous cheeks warm anyway, demure about the offer.

“It’s fine,” you insist. The velcro barely sticks when you refasten it. Fine enough. “Let’s keep going.”

You continue to push through the horde ahead of you, making your slow way toward the chairlifts. As you near, the ant-like skiers and snowboarders on the mountain become clearer, and you pull down your goggles, blinded by the sun’s glare.

That’s when the accident happens.

All of a sudden, but crashing in dusky orange slow-motion. Some guy hits a rocky bit of the slopes, losing control of his snowboard and nosediving into the snow. It’s a gnarly looking collision, made worse by his concerning lack of helmet, and you share a worried look with Topper before making your way toward him.

“Dude, fucking move—hey, sorry, best friend coming through—”

You startle, halting abruptly. You’d recognise that voice anywhere.

“—sorry, ‘scuse me gorgeous, I’m just gonna squeeze past you real quick—”

“Noah!”

In the split second that follows, you endure several emotions at once. The first: concern heightened ten-fold. Because if Noah’s referring to himself as the best friend, the some guy in question is actually Rafe Cameron.

The same Rafe Cameron that you love to hate, almost as much as your poor heart avows it.

The second: a concerning ache. Right at the centre of your chest, within your ribcage, as if the tired ligaments that hold it together are as weak as your velcro straps. The feeling swells, and you feel your heart squeeze through the cracks.

And then there’s apprehension, some excitement, a sudden bashfulness that makes your cheeks burn.

All round pathetic. You force a smile that’s more a grimace, hoping that Noah doesn’t notice your disquiet.

He pauses en-route, a surprised expression on his face. “Y/N!” He exclaims, breathless. The surprise melts into a mixture of delight and amusement. “Tell me you witnessed him bailing just then.”

You sigh. “Unfortunately.”

“Good,” he replies soberly, linking his arms in yours and tugging you forward. Your ski poles cross in protest, your centre of balance askew. “You’re coming with me.”

“What?” You ask, evidently bewildered. “Noah…”

You twist around and find Topper in the crowd, who shrugs, equally perplexed. Help me, you mouth, though you’re moving ahead too fast for the poor boy to discern it.

“…uh,” you try again, turning back to the face him, “I don’t know if this is —”

“Y/N,” he interrupts matter-of-factly, zig-zagging through the crowd with ease. “If there’s one person that can talk some sense into him, it’s you. I mean, shit, did you see how fast he was going? He’s going to board himself into a fucking coma if he keeps doing stupid shit like that.”

This brings a pause. It’s sort of endearing, really, how fiercely he cares about Rafe.

Your gaze softens a smidge. “You’re a good friend, Noah,” you say. “He’s pretty lucky to have you.”

“Us,” Noah corrects.

Your pulse jolts. “He doesn’t have me,” you reply, frowning a little.

“Everyone else may believe that Y/N, but I don’t.”

And again, a terrifying emotion bounding forth in your chest. “I —”

You’re saved the trouble of sputtering through an excuse by Rafe’s languid groan, a thready-sounding, “Shit.”

The crowd parts at Noah’s command, and the pair of you squeeze through, now face to face with Rafe.

He’s splayed out on the snow with his limbs in disarray, only one of his boots still strapped onto his board. His cheeks are a chilly rouge, dirty-blonde hair sticking out at odd angles. You resist the sudden urge to reach forward and comb your fingers through it.

“Idiot,” Noah mutters, crouching down beside him. “Absolute fucking idiot.”

He unfastens the aforementioned boot and tosses his board to the side, the nose-end looking notably abraded.

“Huh?” Rafe mumbles, a little dazed. He gropes at his purple-hued goggles blindly, pulling them off to squint up at Noah. It takes a worrying number of seconds for recognition to dawn on his features, and when it does, finally, Noah turns around and beckons you forward.

You hesitate, your gaze flitting down to Rafe’s face. “Someone should call Ward.”

“No!” Rafe yells suddenly, attempting to push himself up before collapsing backward languidly. He clutches his left side and groans, his eyebrows pinching in pain.

His discomfort makes you wince. You spring into action without meaning to, that concerning ache in your chest pulling you forth until you’re crouching down beside him like Noah.

“No Ward,” you murmur, placing your hand on his shoulder. “Noted.”

Up close, you can see a cut on his bottom lip, the rough stubble on his jaw all dewy from the melted snow. Your brow furrows. As he tears his gaze away from Noah to face you instead, you brush back his dirty-blonde fringe, searching for any more injuries. He has a graze on his upper forehead and you thumb over it gently, the furrow in your brow deepening with concern.

You glance up at Noah and nod. “Absolute fucking idiot.”

Rafe tries to do the same, but a sharp ache sears through his head when he attempts to turn it again.

“Stop moving it,” you instruct sternly, exerting more pressure on his forehead to hold it in place. “Noah isn’t going anywhere.”

“Have to,” he groans, his voice all gravelly and rough, “make sure he’s still here.”

He’s almost certain that Noah won’t be, that he’ll turn to him and find that the two of you are the only people sitting on the slopes. He imagines it like that scene at the end of Deathly Hallows, everything in blinding white and playing inside of his head.

You know, because he’s almost definitely dreaming if you’re crouching down beside him right now. With a soft hand on his shoulder, another pressed over his forehead. Two points of contact, he marvels, dazed. He squints up at you again, his reverent gaze falling over you in paces, and it feels as though a fog is descending on his surroundings. Everything blurs. He blinks abruptly.

“Dude,” Noah chastises, leaning over Rafe’s torso so that he’s within his line of sight, “where the fuck would I go?”

Rafe’s eyes widen, and he looks between you and Noah, evidently bewildered. “Bro,” he groans after a pause, his head falling back defeatedly. “I’m fucked.”

Your heart lurches worriedly, and you frown, looking over his figure for more injuries. “R’you in any pain?”

“Not physical,” he mumbles, lifting his head tentatively to squint at you. He drops it again and groans, overwhelmed by your closeness. “You’re really fucking beautiful, by the way. It’s messing with my head.”

You roll your eyes, feeling a tell-tale warm creeping up your neck. “Alright, you guys can go,” you say, turning to address the crowd. “He’s totally fine.”

Noah grins down at him, looking equally parts proud and exasperated. “There he is.”

Rafe isn’t sure what that means. All he knows is that he doesn’t feel fine, his head’s all jumbled and there’s a dreadful ache in every one of his limbs. The sound of blood pounding through his ears is unrelenting, and the chill in the air is downright abrasive. Not to mention, there’s this angel reincarnate that’s leaning over him at present, a concerned expression on her face that’s somehow making her look prettier.

Two points of contact, Rafe thinks again, agonised. Your softened features come to him in slow motion, the light reflected in your wide eyes, the shine of gloss on your frowning lips. You look extremely familiar, but he’s having difficulty recalling your name. There’s this overwhelming pull in chest that tells him you’re a big deal to him—his girlfriend, he hopes, aghast and probably deluded. That’s the concussion talking.

Besides, he isn’t even entirely sure that you’re actually real, all things considered.

“We should probably get him checked out, huh?” You ask Noah.

Noah knits his brow thoughtfully, peering down at Rafe. “You good, Cameron?”

“I feel fucking hungover,” Rafe mutters, pushing himself into a sitting position. Your hand falters as he hangs his head forward, and he reaches up, pressing it back into his skin. The rough pressure makes your breath hitch, less languid and more sure than he’s been since he bailed.

“You’re concussed,” you correct meekly, frowning down at him.

Rafe tries to shake his head, wincing as another bolt of pain shoots through it in dissent. “No,” he says, quick to fix his features. He grins dazedly. “I’m Rafe Cameron. And you’re… well, I hope you’re my girlfriend or something, because otherwise this heart attack in my chest’d be pretty concerning.”

You breathe out a scoff, mildly exasperated. A little relieved. If he’s well enough to remember to be an incessant flirt, he’s well enough for the concussion to not have caused any permanent damage.

“Alright, nevermind, no medical attention necessary,” you mutter, sending him a glare. It’s hard to hide the fact that your palms are clammy when you pull them away.

Noah loops his bicep under Rafe’s and pulls him to his feet, steadying him in place. The throbbing in his forehead intensifies, and he groans, staggering forward and doubling over.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Noah replies then, frowning. “Maybe I’ll give my mom a call, just to be safe.”

“Your mom?”

“Dr White,” Rafe supplies, forcing himself to straighten. He tries to control his breathing, ignore the way his surroundings seem to be spinning.

Everything except you. His focus acquiesces. He must look pale or something because your gaze is apprehensive, this pretty furrow in your brow that he wants to smooth his thumb over. God, he must look pathetic right now, weak and mildly concussed, the aforementioned bail notwithstanding.

So he lies, adding, “Don’t worry about it White, I’m good,” mostly for your benefit—so you don’t think he’s some fucking chump who can’t handle a bit of a tumble.

He wants to impress you, bad. He plasters on another grin, going for roguish and landing on dense. “Would be better if you let me take you out later.”

“No way you’re asking me out right now,” you reproach, sending him a glare. “You almost just died five minutes ago, and that’s the first thing on your priority list?”

“You are, yeah,” he agrees, still grinning. He tries to walk toward you, staggering a little. “Seriously though, this has gotta be fate — bailing real fucking hard and finding a beautiful stranger along the way.”

You blink. “Beautiful stranger?”

“Heavy on the beautiful,” Rafe agrees, lumbering forward clumsily.

“Stranger?” You repeat, and then you falter, glancing down at his feet. “Rafael —”

He loses balance far too quickly for you to intervene, and he falls against you heavily, causing you to topple into the snow. Biting cold on your back, delightful warmth on your chest. His instincts must be somewhat intact, because he manages to hold his weight up despite being right on top of you.

Like, right on top of you. A terrifying emotion sears through your chest. The smatter of freckles on his nose are almost faded, his cheeks a brilliant rouge, snow-burned lips parted slightly. His overgrown locks brush against your forehead, just.

“Sorry,” he breathes out, and then he pauses, his gaze flitting to your lips. In the beat that passes, he agonises over the soft planes of your face, how pretty your eyes are up close. His heart’s just about pounding through his skin. How kissable your lips look, your cheeks, your neck, how right your figure feels pressed into his. His palms feel clammy; that hasn’t happened in a long while. He thinks, oh shit. And then, I’m absolutely fucking fucked.

You swallow, watching his pupils dilate. “Cameron. I need you to focus for a second.”

“Listen,” he murmurs, ignoring you, “D’you believe in love at first sight?”

“Rafael —”

“Because I know we’ve only just met,” he continues, drawing closer still, his heady gaze deepening, “and that — shit, I don’t even know your name, but I’m pretty sure that if I don’t kiss you right now I’m going to go fucking insane. That’s crazy, huh? I think you make me crazy. Have I mentioned that you’re really fucking beautiful yet? It’s messing with my head. Wait — I think I might’ve said that already —”

“Rafe Cameron,” you interrupt again, your eyes widening slightly. “If this is some stupid prank —”

“Prank?” He echoes, frowning slightly. He leans forward a little, brushing his nose against yours. Your pulse jolts. “You’re a prank.” He groans then, dropping his head to your shoulder. Your closeness may quell the pounding a smidge, but not completely. “You’re not real are you? I’m dreaming all of this?”

Your lock eyes with Noah over his head, sending him a worried look.

“Rafael,” you try again, pushing him off you and sitting up carefully. “This isn’t funny. I’m so beyond serious.”

Rafe, still splayed out on the snow, angles toward you with a furrow in his brow. “I’m confused.”

“Noah,” you say then, your voice louder, a little panicked. “I think you will need to call your mom after all.”

Noah frowns, crouching down beside the pair of you. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong,” Rafe answers, groaning in pain as he sits up. “Is that I’ve made a fool out of myself in front of this gorgeous stranger.”

“Ask her,” you continue, your heart feeling a little odd, “how long post-concussion memory loss takes to wear off.”

Noah eyes widen, searching Rafe’s face for any signs of mirth. “No way,” he says. “He’s gotta be fucking with us.”

“There’s an us?” Rafe echoes, raising his eyebrows at Noah. “Dude. Did you know your girlfriend’s a fucking smokeshow?”

“If this is some new pick up line you’re trying,” he replies, eyeing him warily. “It sucks ass Cameron.”

“Oooh, territorial,” Rafe answers, grinning dopily. He props himself up further, leaning closer to you and lowering his voice to a stage whisper. “You’re totally out of his league, by the way. Pretty sure you’re like, out of the Earth’s league.” He frowns. “That doesn’t make sense,” then groans, “fuck. Having a concussion is like drinking on an empty stomach.”

The pillow of his bicep presses into yours, full well engulfing it. You turn to face him, chewing on your bottom lip worriedly. If this was his idea of a prank, you want to believe that he wouldn’t let it go on this long. Especially not when you and Noah look so concerned, the latter retrieving his phone to give his mother a call.

“Hey mom,” he says, sandwiching his phone between his shoulder and ear and getting to his feet. You do so too. Rafe staggers to a standing position far more clumsily. “Yeah — no — the snow’s been sick, but I’m calling because something’s happened with Rafe. No, no, nothing too serious, he’s just a little concussed and may have some temporary amnesia. I was wondering if…”

“Maybe we can go on a double date,” Rafe tries again, grinning hopefully. There’s a bit of snow that’s melted on your bottom lip from the fall, and he aches to thumb over it, tuck his fingers under your jaw. “You, Noah, me.”

“No, no, he remembers me,” Noah continues, sending you a significant look. “But he doesn’t remember — yeah, it’s pretty selective — uh, maybe a few meters? Uh… no, what the hell’s a trigger? I’ll…”

“What d’you reckon?” Rafe prompts.

Noah turns away and you move your gaze to Rafe, half amused, half exasperated. “You, me, and Noah? Who’re you going to bring?”

“You,” he replies, like it’s obvious.

“And Noah?”

“Me.”

You breathe out an exasperated laugh, shaking your head. Rafe thinks it’s the prettiest sound he’s ever heard. His already muddled brain short-circuits for the billionth time.

“…half an hour?” You hear Noah affirm, the frown on his features audible. “Yeah — no — it’s been just over that — a trigger like what, though? What d’you mean you don’t know him as well as I do, he’s been coming to our house since he was like six years old…”

You don’t realise your brow’s furrowing until your feel Rafe’s rough thumb brush over it. You startle, feeling your skin warm as you look up at him.

“I’m lucky,” he murmurs, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

You swallow. “Why?”

“You’re worried about me.” His hand drops to your jaw, thumb swiping over your cheek. You swallow instinctively. “And you’re way too beautiful to be worrying about someone like me.”

“You’ve lost your memory,” you answer weakly. “Anyone’d be worried.”

“I find that hard to believe.” He draws closer.

“Which part, exactly?”

“That people would worry,” he answers quietly, his voice gruff. Closer still. “That I’d forget about someone like you so easy.”

“But you have,” you prompt.

“Then remind me, sweetheart.”

“Not your sweetheart, Rafael,” you murmur, trying for a frown.

“Not my — wait.”

The thumb that’s swiping over your cheek freezes suddenly. “Wait,” he repeats, blinking several times. He scrunches his eyes shut, retrieving his hand to clutch it against his forehead. “Wait — fuck.”

You lean forward instinctively, tugging his arm away to look over his features, his concerning graze. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I knew…” he answers, shaking his head and groaning, “…but…shit, it’s so fucking obvious now —”

You furrow your brow in confusion, locking eyes with an equally bewildered Noah.

He holds his phone away from his ear, walking over and surveying Rafe’s features. “You good, brother?”

“Fine, shit,” Rafe curses again, scrubbing his hand over his face before meeting your gaze, chagrined. He grins hopefully. “That might’ve been quicker with true love’s kiss, though.”

You aren’t about to believe that he’s back without concrete evidence. “And my name is…?”

“Mrs Cameron,” he replies seriously.

You let out a scoff, more relief than indignation, catching the twinkle of mirth in his eyes. “Don’t ever do that again, you hear me?”

“Maybe,” he answers, raising his eyebrows, “if you let me take you out I’ll be too busy to bail.”

You roll your eyes. “Nice try.”

“But I’m maimed, sweetheart,” he adds, brushing back his dirty-blonde locks to show off the forehead graze. He pouts for good measure. “C’mon. Not even a pity date?”

You shake your head exasperatedly, catching Noah’s eye over his shoulder. “You’ll take it from here?”

“What? You aren’t gonna hang out with us?” Noah asks, pressing the phone against his chest. “I thought you were my girlfriend, Y/N.”

“Off limits, bro,” Rafe says matter-of-factly.

You’re about to protest when he draws closer and ducks his head, his warm breath on your earlobe cutting you off. “I won’t ever do that again,” he murmurs, the smile on his face audible, “I promise.”

“Good,” you answer, frowning sternly.

“Oh, and Y/N?”

You turn toward him, startling at his closeness. “Hm?”

He grins wider, brushing his nose against your fleetingly. “Missed remembering you bad, dream girl.”

[daybringersol]

List of stupid moral OCD thoughts I’ve had (and will continue to have) :

[Keep in mind I am fully aware that these sound like strawmen conservatives would make up, but like. This is my life. And it is a mental illness. This isn’t stuff the ‘woke left’ genuinely espouses, my brain just decided to latch onto an ideology I agreed with and push it to a comical extent, specifically to hurt me.]

- It is racist to have difficulties understanding someone’s accent if they aren’t white (I can barely understand people who have the same accent as me by the way, since I have auditory processing issues).

- Thinking the N-word is just as bad as saying it (queue 1000 intrusive thoughts of the N-word). This is based on one tweet I saw years ago that I’m pretty sure was a joke, by the way.

- It is bigoted to look at someone who is visibly marginalized, but it is also bigoted to avoid looking at them.

- Eating chocolate in the vicinity of a black person will make them feel unsafe, and thus I am racist for doing it.

- If I look people in the eyes, then I’m faking being autistic, and if I don’t, then I’m obviously playing it up (so also faking it).

- Anytime I am having sex with someone, I could be raping them, because I can’t read non-verbal communication. Even if I ask them repeatedly if they like what I’m doing, I could still be raping them, because they could be lying, which would also be my fault for not making them feel safe enough that they wouldn’t feel the need to lie. So basically I have no way to know whether or not I am raping someone when I’m having sex with them. Also, me expressing sexual arousal/enthusiastically consenting is pressuring the other party into consenting, thus coercion, because they’d feel bad saying no. And also me asking them if they like what I’m doing is pressuring them. As you can guess, I rarely enjoy having sex. Because if I did. Then that’d be rape. Of course ! /s

- If I’m attracted to a visibly marginalized person, I’m fetishizing them, but also, if I’m not attracted to them, then I’m bigoted. And also I’m a horrible person for thinking about this because it shouldn’t matter if I’m attracted to them or not, everyone deserves respect (<- guy who has not been disrespectful to them in the slightest).

- I must always be the one changing my path when walking around visibly marginalized people, because if not, then they’ll think I think I own this space more than they do.

- When putting my hand up in class to ask a question, my fingers must always be separated, because if they’re all next to each other, then I’m doing the ‘Heil Hitler’ greeting.

- If I reblog guilt trip-y mutual aid posts, then I’m hurting other people with OCD (and could be responsible for someone’s suicide), and if I don’t, then I’m a horrible person who’s responsible for whatever happened & happens to the person/people in the post.

- If someone likes me (platonically or otherwise), it means I manipulated them into it, and thus I am a danger to them.

- If I even as much as glance in the direction of someone’s breasts, then that means I’m attracted to them. Which gets pretty gnarly when it happens with a family member or a minor.

- Not applicable anymore, I’ve had top surgery, but before that: If I say I’m a man with breasts, then I’m pretending to be intersex.

- I’m privileged for having moral OCD, because people who are really struggling don’t have the time to think this much.

- I’m a bad person for even taking time to think about my problems because there’s so much worse happening constantly in the world and at the end of the day, I’m very privileged.

- It is my moral responsibility to constantly be questioning myself, my morals and my identity, because what if this time it’s not moral OCD. What if this time I’m actually bigoted. What if this time I’m actually wrong.

[I’ve talked for a while about my moral OCD, but was always scared to talk about what it’s actually about, because it is a type of it I rarely see mentioned (despite it being much more common in leftist online spaces than people would like to admit) and if I do, the general response is that the people who have OCD about being bigoted are actually bigoted for having it. Which is fucking. Soul-crushing. Anyways yeah, I’m scared to post this. But I’ll do it anyways. Yeah.]

[Reblogging is okay; I want people to see what it’s actually like. I might mute it later or delete it if it gets too overwhelming/gets me harrassment.]

[on-a-lucky-tide]

this is very specific but have you done Nikprice giving Ghostsoap the shovel talk?

I have not. I'm kinda working out which way round it would go.

I reckon Price would send Nik to talk to Soap first. To put his feelers out, because technically he can't have favourites but Simon is his favourite. Soap is an absolute fuckboy, Price has seen his record, knows about the indiscretion with the girl on the base. He doesn't want Simon hurt. He has a separate conversation to have with Simon about fraternisation and the risks there. He'll take that one.

Nik was a slut in their youth. He's the fuckboy that grew up and came out the other side. If anyone is best placed to talk to Soap and explain what's at stake, it's Nik. So Nik invites Soap out for a drink and they sit opposite each other in a small pub in the countryside around Credenhill.

"Are ye gonna assassinate me?" Johnny asks finally, watching Nik with owlish eyes.

Nik looks nonplussed. "That has never been my line of work, sergeant."

"Aye, but... ye have the Daddy KGB aura, and ye do everythin' else under the sun, so, ye ken, hitman wouldn' be too..."

"John." Nik looks a little surprised at himself when he says it, and Johnny realises the only time he ever uses that name is when he's talking to Price in private. It's sweet. Well, it would be if Johnny wasn't still forty percent sure he was about to get dumped in a nearby river.

"Aye, right, so... this is abou' Ghoost then."

"Da," Nik says, straight to the point. "The captain is concerned you will... uh, what was his phrase, pump and dump him."

Johnny chokes on his beer. It comes out his nose and everything. Nik offers him a napkin and once he's finished mopping the spit and beer off his chin, he croaks. "Cap really said that, eh?"

"Da. He wants me to... outline the risk you are taking."

"The risk, aye. Well, g'wan then."

"If you hurt Simon, your time with the 141 will conclude."

Johnny's eyebrows jump up his forehead.

Nik continues. "Simon has been through a lot. He has healed a lot. But breaking his trust again would do irreparable harm. This cannot be permitted. Do you understand?"

"Aye, ah know Simon, he--"

Nik leans in. "When I committed to the captain, I had to make adjustments. The flirtation, the sex in every city, the drugs. It all stopped. He was worth more to me than any hedonism. I am a better man because of Jonathan. In every way." Nik pauses, taking a long drink from his glass, the ice sitting against his lip.

When he sets it down again, Johnny watches his thumb dust over his lower lip, and then those dark eyes are boring into him again. "If I were to hurt him, Simon would see that I paid an equivalent price for my sin," Nik's fingers tap on the side of his vodka glass, and somehow it's the most intimidating thing he's done since they sat down. Johnny has seen those hands do some pretty gnarly shit, "and so I will extend the same courtesy to him. Now, do you understand?"

Johnny swallows. "Aye. Understood."

Nik smiles. The icy threat melts from his features and Johnny feels less like a mouse trapped under the paw of a giant tom cat. "Then we are on the same page." Nik lifts his glass. "To many happy days in the arms of your lover, comrade. There is nothing quite like it."

Johnny meets Nik's glass and feels distinctly lightheaded. He's glad Nik's on his side, well, mostly, apparently.