#puts them all in a jar and rattles them

[linkerbell]

A whole server of lambsonas 🤲✨

(From left to right on the lineup)

@aveloka-draws @beautysnake @coffincrows @xmajordumps @z00lea ME @monosprout @acoraxia @the-one-who-lambs @bamsara @squish--squash @strawdool @ane-doodles @lambment @arsonistmoth @surfdudeboy @cultoftheswag @p4r4n0rmal-exe @i-eat-deodorant @oneofthosenightbees @delirisse @catatombi @the-pentaparty @iamuxie @unwri-ten @ballad-of-the-lamb @vurelly

[bonebuckets]

put kayne from malevolent, kevin from WTNV, and the distortion from TMA all in a room together and see who comes out alive

[capricioussun]

The reason i say i have like seven different versions of UF on rotation in my brain is because there are several different Styles of UF that i really like and can never really decide on which I'd consider my Main one, on top of also Lore, which i have a few different ideas for, too.

So like, we have the one i talk abt most often probably, which we'll call AngstFell, because. I'll be honest i love angst and i love doing terrible things to characters. This is the one where they have core issues, supply issues, food shortages, LVlost culling, very complicated and sort of miserable relationships between just about all of the characters. No One is having a good time pretty much, but despite everything, there is still hope...

Then there's how i often mentally refer to it as SillyFell, which is basically just like. If everyone in UT decided to try to be mean and was mostly really bad about it. In this one, things are still generally worse, but having LV is still somewhat uncommon, mostly only guards would have it, and people are generally more sad than they are mean/angry.

And then we have what's probably """closest to canon""" as far as my understanding of it goes, where it's sort of somewhere in between the two prior ones, in that there's definitely still silliness, and their UT selves aren't too far removed from them, but it still can get pretty heavy, and problems aren't as surface level as Silly.

Then we have my """fanon"""fell which is essentially something I've done for most AUs, where i try to imagine circumstances that could possibly, believably (by my own standards and interpretations) make the characters behave more in line with fanon portrayals. This one's way more difficult to summarize since the changes are more character specific, but generally, as far as "seriousness" goes, it falls in a similar place as "Canon"Fell.

And then there's Tale to Fell (v.1) which is essentially based around the idea that UF kind of started as UT, but slowly became UF due to Circumstances like core trouble and slightly different events going down with the humans, both during the war, and with what happened to Chara and Asriel. (End results are similar to "Canon"Fell)

But there's also Tale to Fell (v.2) which is based on the premise of UT slowly becoming UF after Frisk has fallen into the underground due to waaay too many resets and gradual code fuckery. (Opposed to v.1, this is actually a concept I've never seen explored before! Not to say it isn't out there somewhere, but i have a rough draft layout of a potential fic abt it that will...probably never happen bc it would take a lot of commitment lol)

So we have those bad boys, but then there's also differences depending on Lore. Like there's one version i think of sometimes where Papyrus is the older brother, or a version where Gaster didn't make Sans and Papyrus but was actually their adoptive uncle, and another with Gaster Papyrus where, as it goes, the incident that "shattered" Gaster created Papyrus, one where Undyne knew the bros as kids briefly, one where Asgore's just Terrible for like, no real reason, like. There are a lot of ways to think about it!!

And that's not even taking into account all of the Fell based story ideas like the psychonauts one, the one where the bros are gb shifters, one where Papyrus is [redacted], one where there's a zombie like plague outbreak that can only affect monsters with LV, one where Frisk winds up living underground with them all for a Hot Minute, and then of course there's the AUs, like Vesselfell, Horrorfell, Heartfell, Lovefell, Invertedfell, Orangefell, that mysterious one I've been mulling and have not talked about at all with Albatross-

Clearly i am very normal about this 👍

[talentforlying]

clarice sackville: [...] that's really him, isn't it? the ΔΡΥΆΔΕΣ. swamp thing: ... the wheels ... the wheels of leisure ... i cannot feel them on my manicured fairways ...

can't help but think about how in the story, the cumaean sybil deiphobe withers away with age until all that's left of her is her voice, which gets stored in a jar . . . if you ask me, that's looking like a pretty voice-sized jar that now has a pretty big vacancy sign on it . . .

( she also acts as a bridge between the worlds of life and death in the aeneid, showing the entrance to the underworld, and where oh where have we seen that hollywood sign from dead in america #1 elsewhere in hellblazer before ... the story featuring a demon opening gateways to hell on earth, perhaps?

the story featuring the aztec god of death with a history of being booted out by new powers moving in? who said "with no breath or heartbeat dinning in my ears, with the noisy tides of blood all dried, all stilled, I HEAR EVERYTHING. / the roots of death's tree extend in two directions. into the human heart - and into the abyss of past time"? who now knows constantine and "has always known him", and thus maybe even knows him across universes, perhaps? )

[arolesbianism]

Thinking abt Joshua again. Amazing how all it takes for what was once one of my least favorite oni characters to become my third favorite is simply making shit up

[juicebuck]

can't stop thinking about roommates buck and eddie wanting this to last forever and ever and both feeling bad about this. eddie feels Bad because like, he keeps selfishly hoping and praying for things to be Wrong with the apartments buck is looking at. even though he knows buck deserves to have his own space and his own life and that's Fine it's just so fine. he can’t make him stay. but also he can’t stop trying to make buck stay. he's calling it our house and our bedroom and he plants a little herb garden because buck mentioned wanting one and he's asking buck if he thinks they should put up new shelves in the kitchen and get some cool glass jars for buck's baking ingedients and buck's got his own column on the weekly organiser and god what is he doing? and buck feels BAD because eddie's being so kind and patient and accommodating, but he deserves his space back, his house back. it was never really buck's. he was just supposed to hold onto it until eddie and chris came back. and they're back now. but also he just, can’t bring himself to keep looking for another place even though he knows he Should. he does at first. half-heartedly. but then he just stops. and he keeps not just letting eddie believe he's looking at places but like. lying about looking at places. he's literally making up apartments and then making up things that were wrong with them and he knows it's bad but he can’t Stop. and eddie's trying to react Normally and be supportive. like, man that sucks. don't worry, you'll find one! but really he's just like, so fucking relieved every single time. everytime buck mentions looking at a new place eddie's like, holding his breath. until buck rattles off a list of things that were wrong with it and he can finally breathe again.

and then one night, they're on the couch, watching tv, having a few beers. buck's just told him about another fake uninhabitable place. and it just slips out, quiet. "stay" eddie barely registers he's said it at first. but when he does, he says it again. like now that it's out there he can’t Stop. stay. buck, stay. and buck's like, what? and eddie sets his beer down and turns to buck like, stay. i want you to stay. i don't want you to find another place. i want you here. with me. with chris. where you belong. stay. and buck's breath shakes, fingers gripping his beer too tight, and he says, okay. and eddie's like, yeah? and buck's like, i— swallows. i haven't really been looking at places. i—meant to. but i couldn't, didn't want to. the thought of not—not being with you was... so i made them up. and eddie breathes out a laugh, surprised. says, you made them up. all of them? and buck ducks his head like, at least 90% of them. and eddie reaches out, tilts buck's face back up to look at him and says, i planted you a herb garden. and buck laughs, bright and loud. says, we're so stupid. and eddie laughs too, fond and relieved and just. in love. god, he's in love. and he just fucking says it, i love you. it slips out the same way stay did. and buck's laughter catches on an inhale. and he says, eddie. a little awed. a little desperate. and eddie thinks, this is it. no going back now. not that he wants to. this is it. this is his joy. and he takes the beer from buck's clasped hand, fingers brushing over his knuckles. sets it down next to his own. reaches back out, holds buck's face in his hands and kisses him. and buck makes a sound like a whimper and well, that's it. they're all over each other. hands everywhere, pressed together, moving together. and they can’t stop kissing. like they’re trying to climb inside of each other. can barely part long enough to shove down their pants. at some point one of their legs knocks the beer bottles over but they barely notice. at some point eddie manages to form a somewhat coherent thought long enough to get his hand around them both. at some point eddie says it again. stay. i love you. and buck realises that he didn't say it back—so he does now. breathes an i love you too into eddie’s mouth that slides into groan as he comes all over them both.

[cherrychilli]

18+ Steve Harrington x F! reader, Bestfriend! Steve, Inexperienced! reader, descriptions of pornography, one mention of 'daddy' although no daddy kink, discussions of sex, allusions to PIV sex, allusions to loss of virginity WC:1.8K

A/N: Another very old wip which I thought would remain unfinished but I've been trying to stretch my creaky old writing muscles with the blurbs I've been posting and I felt motivated to complete this one too. Enjoy!

You should have been more careful. These kinds of things were so easy to avoid if only you'd been less forgetful.

The problem was that the tape you'd rented for the night was still zipped away in your bag, still amongst the various other effects taking up space there like your purse and the half eaten sleeve of Chips Ahoy! you liked to munch on while you shopped.

So you couldn't really fault Steve for assuming the unmarked tape placed on top of your VCR was the copy of The Evil Dead meant for your movie night together, calling over your shoulder for him to put it in and press play while you stepped out of your bedroom to retrieve snacks from the pantry.

Selecting them quickly, you made your way back to your room, both arms curled around two large crinkled bags of potato chips, one barbeque flavor for you and one sour cream and onion for Steve because that was his favorite. Holding them close to your chest, you approached your bedroom door, just a few paces away when you heard it.

It was an unmistakable kind of sound.

The sounds of skin on skin -- that rapid, wet slapping that made your gut twist and flip, downright lewd and accompanied by two voices.

The first one, all masculine and gruff, let out ragged grunts of 'Yeah? do you like that? Y' like it when I fuck you in this tight wet cunt?' followed by the second, feminine and somehow much louder than the first, producing high pitched staccato cries of ah's and uh's before letting out an exaggerated wail of 'oh god, daddy, right there! fuck me harder!'

Realization hits you like the sharp end of an ice pick sinking into your spine. It roots you in place, paralyzed as you stare helplessly at what's transpiring on screen.

That red hot feeling of shame balloons inside you, flooding every crevice of your being until you're somehow finally able to tear yourself from where you'd been rooted, forcing yourself into action.

Dropping the snacks, you bolt into your bedroom, hurdling over the cushions laying on your bedroom floor before diving for the remote resting on your bed but it's far too late.

Steve had been knelt there in front your TV set, his face a few inches away from the screen and he had seen it all -- the sloppy, aggressive thrusting, the jarring cuts, the over acted cries of pleasure and the gratuitous angles of bare, sweaty skin.

The TV goes dark in a blink when you stab your thumb over the power button and the whole room plunges into silence save for the sounds of your panicked panting, your whole body turning cold despite the beads of sweat dewing on the back of your neck when Steve turns to look at you, face all pink.

"Uh, I think I put in the wrong tape", he croaked.

~

For the next 30 minutes Steve's kind enough not to bring it up, clearly rattled in the way he struggles to maintain eye contact with you for very long but he's able to awkwardly laugh it off when you try to sputter out an explanation.

"Let's just watch the movie, yeah?", he smiled at you as casually as he could manage though you could tell he was only trying to make this less painful for you, brushing what he'd seen off like crumbs on his lap.

But the longer you sat next to him on your bed, eyes fixed on the TV screen but unfocused, your mind grows heavy with too many thoughts, all of them tangling into one giant anxiety riddled knot.

You felt this overwhelming need to clear the air -- to let Steve know that you didn't actually enjoy the overly produced schlock on that tape. It felt important to make him understand that what he'd seen was not what you considered to be pleasurable. You had to convince him. You just had to.

Restlessly picking at your fingers in your lap, you can't stand to wait any longer, your mouth springing into action quicker than you could bite your tongue back.

"What does it feel like?", you blurt out in the middle of a scene, drawing your knees up to your chest as you wrap your arms around your legs, hugging yourself tight.

Steve raises an eyebrow up at you from his side of the bed, humming out an inquisitive 'hm?' around a mouthful of potato chips, jaw still working as he continues to munch.

You take those few seconds to steel yourself, gulping down the remaining bits of cowardice left in you before you decide to go for it.

"Sex..." you specified hesitantly. "What's it like?"

Immediately you feel sorry for Steve when his eyes go wide, starting to cough as he struggles to swallow the mouthful of chips, slapping a hand over his chest to make them go down easier.

The sight makes you feel all kinds of guilty for springing it on him but you couldn't stand to bear a second longer of not ripping this particular band aid off.

"Is that why you have that tape?", he manages to ask after clearing his throat a few times.

"I was curious", you tell him, ignoring the movie as it continues to play without either of you giving it any attention.

Steve sighs softly, running a hand through his hair. "Honey, those things won't teach you what real sex is like", he softens, sliding his hand across your sheets, nearing your knee but he stops just short of brushing your skin.

You can tell what he's thinking -- that now wasn't the time for any kind of physical contact no matter how innocent. Not after the things you'd both seen on that tape, slowly drawing his fingers back.

"I just- I didn't really have much of a choice did I?", you try to justify yourself, only it just makes you feel worse.

"You could have asked um,....you....um-", he struggles and eventually grows quiet when he starts to look frazzled again.

'You could have asked me?' is that what he was about to say? you might be best friends but was this the most appropriate thing to do? you wonder on it only briefly before Steve could close that door altogether, forcefully wedging your foot inside.

"Okay, so I'm asking you. What does it feel like?", you ask plainly.

Steve watches you as his mind works, all the little gears and cogs spinning too fast and spitting out jets of scalding steam as he considers the question again -- really considers the question before answering.

"Wouldn't be much point telling you", he muttered thoughtfully as his eyes lower and though his tone isn't condescending, you're still very much offended by it.

"I'm not some little field mouse, Steve. I can handle an honest answer for fuck sake!", you yell, your temper fiery and your skin warm. This is not how you wanted this conversation to go.

Steve realizes his mistake, jumping into action.

"I wasn't- what I meant is, I can't give you an accurate description, you know?" he quickly corrected. "What I feel...what it feels like for me? well, it's different from what it'd feel like for you".

"Oh...", you slumped back against the headboard. You hadn't thought of it like that. Maybe it would have been better to ask a girl.

"Ask one of the girls", he offered next but that only made you sink further.

"Don't want to ask the girls", you muttered, sounding a little wounded. It's not that your friends would have judged you for being a virgin, it's just that your insecurity around the subject got the better of you in that moment and Steve seemed the only one you could trust for a real answer.

"I don't like not knowing. I'm not like, obsessed or anything but it's been on my mind... a lot"

There's a pause and when you think he might pull away again, he carefully inches closer instead.

"Are you sure you really wanna know?"

You blink up at Steve. The color's returned to his face, no longer a frightened pale white.

"Yes"

"Then...then you should find someone you trust", he tells you.

"I trust you", you reply quickly.

He looks back at you for what feels like forever. Every second that ticks by making it harder and harder for him to compose himself with the way you're looking back at him.

"It should be someone you like too", he replies softly.

"I like you", you tell him simply.

"Sweetheart...are you sure about this?"

"Steve, please. It needs to be you. I want you to show me", you reply, sliding a hand over the sheets until you can place your much smaller hand on Steve's. You can feel him tremble only you can't quite tell just yet if its because of nerves or excitement.

You watch as his Adam's apple bobs in his throat.

"Okay, then we need to do this right"

You smile. Static begins to dance and crackle along your skin. Yep. He was definitely excited, you know that for certain when you feel your own hand start to tremble too.

"How?"

He smiles at you.

"Gotta start with a kiss, angel"

"Oh right. Yeah, that makes sense", you tell him, both of you already leaning in until your lips meet.

He's got his palm cradling the side of his face, his thumb rubbing soft, comforting circles. You know that Steve's going to take care of you, just like you deserve.

And when his tongue enters your mouth it all sinks in. You were going to lose it to your bestfriend tonight and despite how wrong the night started off, it feels so perfect and right now. Like it was meant to happen this way.

You know he's not going to treat you like what you'd seen on that tape. You know he'll take the time to touch you everywhere, never neglecting any part of you. You know he's going to taste you with real passion, not shove his face between your legs and shake around like a wet dog trying to get dry. You know he'll be gentle when it's your turn to taste him, his soft hand weaving into your hair, patiently guiding you as you take as much of him into your mouth as you can. Not aggressively smacking his cock across your face or harshly snaking it too quickly down your throat. You know he'll get you ready with his fingers first and treat your body with care, not plunge them inside and prod around at full speed. You know when it's time, he'll enter you slowly, holding your hand all while he does so. You know he'll talk you through it. You know he'll make you feel beautiful and cherished. You know he'll make you feel safe. You know he'll listen to your every word. You know he'll keep kissing you and you know he'll make sure that you get there first. As many times as you will let him.

And when it's all over, when your sweaty limbs are entwined and he's still holding your hand and his pearly cum pools in your belly button, you know the two of you wont be best friends again after tonight.

No, you two will start tomorrow as something far better than that. And all thanks to a little dirty movie.

[poetsblvd]

SKINCARE BABE ꪆৎ CL16

“How do you not get confused at all?” Charles mumbles in awe of your skincare collection, staring at the jars and tubes of different sizes that sit prettily in organised containers on the large vanity of your bathroom.

You shrug, pulling him lightly by his knuckles towards a seat facing your bathroom mirror. “You get used to it, now sit!”

He smiles softly taking a seat on the cushioned stool next to yours, nodding as you pull out an array of different types of face masks to try with him.

“I have so many fun ones we can do! There’s this clay mask, this gel one, that’s a sheet mask, and then this one peels off.” A delicately manicured finger pulls out the containers and thin boxes from cabinets and lays them down in front of him.

He doesn’t quite know what you’re saying at all, the words mostly fly over his head and he doesn’t understand much of what you’re saying, except that maybe the world has far too many face masks to choose from, but he knows he can listen to you prattle on for hours on end about sheet masks, gel under eye patches, everything really, and never tire.

You hum in concentration, still looking through drawers for anything you may be missing to show him, completely unaware of your boyfriends�� attention being solely on you rather than your skincare.

“You’re so beautiful, you know?” He murmurs smiling up at you.

Your hands pause in their movements, a pretty flush creeping up your cheeks and down your neck, only endearing you more to him.

His hands come to rub at his chest unconsciously still staring at you in awe, a soft gooey feeling coating him turning his eyes into hearts and making his brain go almost numb.

‘’Tellement jolie.” He smiles, large hands carefully sliding around your waist and pulling you closer to stand in front of him, chin resting on the pretty pink silk robe that coats your body. ( so pretty )

“Mon belle amour, comment ai-je eu autant de chance?” He wonders, laughing softly when your hands bashfully come up to cover your face, french glossy nails shining in the light. ( my beautiful love, how did i get so lucky? )

“Charlie!” You whine, dragging out his name in exasperation mumbling a shy I love you, that’s incredibly well received if his ear splitting grin and giggle are anything to go by.

He tugs you onto his lap, making sure you’re comfortable, hands still woven tightly around your waist, his head in the crook of your neck, he smears a soft kiss on your shoulders and nudges you to the face masks again.

“Tell me what face mask you like the most mon beau.” You pull out a small glass pot labeled ‘volcanic clay mask’ and he fights all his inner questions down when you start rattling off its benefits of how it minimises pores and helps target fine lines?

“Okay amour, will you put it on for me?” He smiles cheesily, pushing his face forward and turning you around in his hold.

“We have to push your hair back first love.” You pull out a brand new headband from the drawer next to you and present it to him, grinning at his loud bark of laughter at the lightning mcqueen skincare headband in front of of him.

“Oh my God!”

“You like it?” You question, happiness bubbling inside you.

Nodding eagerly he lets you slip it onto his head and push back his hair “Love it! Love you, so much, Je t’aime mon coeur.”

“Je t’aime aussi Cha.”

“Wow, I am going to be the coolest in the paddock, Lightning mcqueen headband? Max is going to be so jealous.”

love note , hi i hope you guys liked this!! i’m not the most pleased with this but i had the teeniest crumb of inspo to write and it’s 4:20 am (again) so please bear with me!! but i found the idea cute and i was struggling to put it into words, but it is what it is! also i have a bunch of reqs in my inbox that i promos i’ll get to, but i’m recovering from the most disgusting flu and have the most awful writers block, so we’ll go slow and steady!! anyways happy reading mwah xx

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Take You Home 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You awake in a strange place with a familiar man

Characters: Steve Kemp

Note: 🫢

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The sludge shifts in your skull as a rolling sensation surrounds you. There’s dull impact, soft but enough to jar you. Your voice drifts between your lips and tickles your clogged brain. Your eyes slit and a glow hazes your vision. 

You blink at the room, the wall obscure, only a shadow before you, a man’s distorted silhouette and his deep unintelligible timbre. Another creak in your throat and the world disappears once more behind your heavy eyelids. 

You plummet into the void, swirling and spinning. Your unconscious makes you dizzy with the unknown elixir coursing through your veins. A prick, sharp and deep, that’s all you can recall from the depths of nowhere. 

You languish there, down, down, where you don’t feel much, where you don’t think. Like a storm clearing, the clouds dissipate wisp by wisp and give way to a gray shroud. Your lashes bat, sticking together before you can peel them apart. 

Your muscles ache as you drag your arm up to wipe the drool from your cheek. Your eyes roll around as you take in the strange beige walls. You lay against once, crooked between it and the floor. You shift and touch the cushioned surface. 

You drop your arm and stare. What happened? Is this a hospital? Were you brought in for some sort of episode? If so, what kind of room doesn’t have any furniture? 

You bend your leg and push your elbows into the ground as you try to sit up. Your body is like stone. As you curl up in a shaking battle, there’s a tug on your ankle and the gentle clink of metal. Your head wobbles as you look down at the leather cuff. 

They don’t have those in any hospitals. 

A loud shink frightens you. You turn to the door as a space appears at the bottom. Through the small slat, a stack of folded garments is shoved through. You stare at the gloved hand before it quickly retracts. 

“Hello?” You call out. 

Silence. You stare at the clothing. What the hell is this? 

You sidle into the corner, or try to. You’re kept from it by the restraint on your ankle. You examine it. The sewn-in padlock has no give. Your eyes well with confusion and fear. 

You close your eyes and try to remember. The effort makes your head throb. You and your mom were having movie night. Just the two of you. Then there was a knock at the door. 

The door across from you rattles with an impact from the other side and breaks your concentration. “Put them on.” 

The voice is gravelly, deliberately so. The speaker intentionally lowers his octave. You must know him. No... 

It is Steve at the door. Your mom’s new boyfriend. New. Despite your protests, they were together for half a year. He always found a way to crash on your nights together. 

You look at the folded garments again. 

“I know it’s you,” your voice crackles sharply in your throat. 

He laughs and hits the door again. 

You shiver and sink down. You stare at the floor and wade back into memory. Further back but not so distant. 

“Mom, he kept touching me,” you tell your mother as she loads the dishwasher. 

“What? He’s just a touchy-feely guy, you know? I’m sure it was nothing.” 

“Mom,” you whine. 

“Well, if you have an issue, tell him,” she shrugs. “All I saw was a friendly nudge.” 

You huff, echoing the same in your current existence as the past shatters. You should have been more adamant. Louder. You tried. You really did. Your mom was willfully blind. You see that now. 

“He was outside my room last night...” 

“He was probably going to get water from the kitchen.” 

Every concern had an easy explanation but the constant stacking of the pieces couldn’t just be coincidence, and now you know. You weren’t wrong but it’s too late for all that. You knew Steve was slimy but you didn’t think he was deranged. 

“My mom will look for me,” you say. 

“Put the clothes on,” he demands, dropping all attempt at disguise. 

“You know she will. I won’t tell anyone how much of a creep you are if you let me go right now--” 

“Do as you’re told.” He slides the slat shut and you wince. 

You stay where you are. Your mom might not suspect him but she’ll look for you. She’ll find you. Once she sees your apartment is empty. Maybe even once she finds your diary and sees everything you wrote. Maybe then, she’ll hear you. 

You just hope it doesn’t take her that long. 

You linger in the stillness of the empty room. Just you and the chain hooked to the loop embedded in the floor. What the hell do you do now? 

Everyone always says they’d be different. They’d fight. They’d find a way out. It’s not that easy when there’s walls and a goddamn chain on your leg. Especially knowing that he’s prepared as much as you are completely not. 

The stagnant air thins as another rap comes on the door. You stare at the door and don’t move. Once more, the space turns stale. You hang your head, fighting down the panic swelling in your chest. 

A loud grind cuts through your fearful trance and the door swings open, sucking the air from the room. Steve storms toward you and rips you from against the wall. He rips your shirt up your torso until your arms are trapped and your blinded in the fabric. 

“Mph, what the frmph,” you growl into the tee. 

“I got you some nice clothes, honey, so go on and put them on.” He snarls as he stands with his feet on either side of you. 

“What is wrong—what are you doing?” You gasp as you push your shirt down. 

“Don’t make me help. You won’t like it,” he warns with a scowl. 

You stare up at him, searching his shadowed expression, “you’re sick.” 

“Don’t act like this isn’t exactly what you were begging for,” he nudges you with his toe then steps over you. “Two minutes, honey. More than enough time for you to come to your senses.” 

He stomps out and the door slams with a clanging echo that rattles your skull. There’s a hint of whatever he injected you with still sifting through your veins. The sluggishness only dulls your panic enough to keep from crying. 

You lean forward, hunching your shoulders and stare at the clothing. The way he pounced, the way he manhandled you, the way he did all this. This isn’t just a slip in judgment, this is meticulously planned. This is deviant. 

The whittling ache in your muscles assures you of little choice. You can resist but you don’t expect any different. Fighting him, him overpowering you, nothing about these walls, that chain, or his strength gives you hope. This is a battle you already lost. 

You reach for the mussed pile and unravel the first piece. A pair of sheer pink panties and a matching bra. The set is not your style. You prefer denim and cotton. Something comfortable and simple. 

Other memories trickle in. The comments. ‘This would look nice on you’ or ‘don’t you have anything with colour?’ Ugh. 

You’re slowed by whatever he put in you. You peel off your shirt. In his effort to strip you, he scratched your stomach. Your side stings from the cut of his nails. Him and his manicures. Everything about him was always too perfect. 

When was it that he got you? You’re fuzzy. You remember your mom on the couch. She fell asleep watching something. You went to the kitchen to get some water and then... nothing. It’s a fog. 

You turn your back to the door. You don’t know why. It doesn’t really matter. Your insides curdle as you pull on the panties first. Each piece is a symbol of your submission. The bra is too small. It pinches as your tits wobble over the cups. 

The dress is just as bad. Pink, the ruching along the sleeves give a small ruffle effect and the skirt dances on your thighs. You tug it down as far as you can then huddle into the wall. 

Your disbelief is padded in horror. The longer you sit in reality, the more virulent the dread. You stare at the door. This is real. There is no escape. 

You pick at the cuff on your ankle without thinking. You blink, the world fracture by black slides, and your breath puffs behind your ears. Your head is going to combust. 

The door jerks. You wince as the lock twists. You press yourself to the wall. 

Steve enters. He changed. His turtleneck and black jeans have been exchanged for dark slacks and a navy blue button-up. His hair is quaffed 

“Ah, you’re ready,” he grins. You glare at him. He looks you over and a smoky light passes through his blue irises. “Now, baby, you gonna be a good girl for me? I got a special night planned for us.” 

You grit your teeth and hold back the retort crawling on your tongue. You can’t move or speak. You know if you do, you’ll regret it. 

“Alright, you sit pretty,” he purrs. 

He leaves the door open as he struts out. It’s a blatant taunt. You couldn’t leave if you wanted. This is all just a joke to him. You have a chain on you, you don’t need the walls or the heavy lock. He has you snared. 

He enters again. He unfolded the table in his hand, locking the legs in place. He hums as he passes in and out; chairs, plates, wine glasses, he sets up the twisted romantic tableau. He sets a candle at the center and lights it. 

“Hungry? You gotta be.” He approaches you as your eyes cling to the floor. 

Your stomach is hollow. Painfully so. You don’t acknowledge him as you ball your fists. 

“You need some help? How’s that head feeling, honey?” 

Your eyes flick up to him. His pupils pinpoint and he offers his hand. You consider it closely then relent. You take it and he pulls you to your feet. You don’t know that you can do it yourself. 

He takes you to the table and sits you down. Just at the end of your tether. You stare at the plates he’s set out with glazed chicken, pilaf rice, and roasted veggies. As hungry as you are, the smell is repulsive. 

He uncorks the wine and fills the glasses. He puts one in front of you and slides one closer to his plate. He sits across from you and grins. He raises his glass. 

“For you, honey,” he winks. 

You look at the glass. Your hand shakes. You focus on the small effort of reaching for it. You shake as you hover your hand over the table. It’s anger, not weakness that has you trembling. 

You look at Steve as he watches you intently. You close your hand and grip the bottom candlestick. You lift it and jab it towards him, splashing him with hot wax as you ram the flame towards him. He spills the wine as he bats away your attack. 

The heavy holder falls out of your grasp and he rams the table into your stomach. It takes the breath out of you and you wheeze. He stands and you push on the chair, trying to stand. He storms around and kicks the legs out from under the chair. You crash to the ground with a cry. 

He kicks your shoulder and pins you to the ground as he stands on it. His other foot is planted right beside you. He pants and growls down at you as rage deepens the lines in his face. 

“Fine,” he sinks his heel into you, “let’s do it the hard way.”  

[basketobread]

SAUSHDIDASUHDSAIU THANK YOU MUPPY FOR THIS WONDERFUL ADDITION

the dehydration crew!!! 💦💧

okay guys I FINALLY made the little dehydration series. poor little critters. they look like dehydrated jellybeans. i just wanna flick em across my room and into a cup of water...

also, i always laugh when i include lunara in these companion posts cuz she's just my oc DSFIUHFDSI [insert "she thinks she's part of the team 😂😂😂" meme here] but too bad. shes my little blorbo. my pookie. and she IS a part of the canon crew in MY HEART!!!

(also also, remember to hydrate!! lest you end up like these little dried up critters)

[devotekuna]

Suguru hates how his daughter has a crush on one of his followers' son, he was first happy for the fact that she looked so joyful coming back home with a real ring. Soon after he saw them playing outside, he instantly knew who's son it was.

"And then she's playing with one of the monkeys' son!?" He ranted to you, as you say on the floor trying to nurse your few months old to sleep. You didn't even pay any mind to him as he always had one of his hissy fits especially about his followers. "I should kill them all right now!" He had a deep hatred for non sorcerers, fortunately you and both of your kids had a cursed technique, so you had nothing to worry about.

Nodding in response as you took it all in, "Right, yes babe, now can you get the food out of the pan?" Glancing at the cooking pot which was oversimming due to his negligence. Turning off the stove as he sat back down on the floor, making the effort rattle. "Then he has the audacity to give her a ring!" Throwing the ring onto the table, huffing and puffing wasn't a good look on him, especially since you fell in love with him due to his sarcastic nature.

"Awww, that's cute suguru" grabbing the ring and inspecting it, surely a 3 year old wouldn't be able to buy something this expensive. Hearing the soft sound of feet running towards the front door, inching a jar open as she reached for the door. "Bye bye!" Her soft voice being heard as she opened the door, eyes all going towards the front door as giggles came upon your ears.

"Hi princess, how was your day?" Watching as your husband's demeanor slightly changed to a more relaxed face, still crossing his arms over his chest. She looked so cute wearing her purple dress, smiling as soon as she saw her family.

"It was great papa! This boy gave me a fish but I had to put it in the pond." His image of the non sorcerers only got worse as soon as he heard about the fish, the fish in the pond were some of his favourite types and he didn't even know how they both got into that area. Giggling as soon as you saw his face change back to a scowl, he didn't want his precious daughter to be in the same vincity of the lowlifes.

[merbear25]

Hiii, got inspired by Mihawk's recent birthday and was thinking maybe his SO trying to spoil him for his birthday? Both with small gift and then something more NSFW, like reader indulging him in one of his favorite kinks? (idk why I see him as a mirror sex guy or/and into blindfold)

Ohhhh!!! This is a good idea... Thank you for sending this in! I hope you like it!

Caught with your hands in the cookie jar, you were unable to keep your cool. After all that work you'd put into trying to think of a good hiding place, here he was suspecting you of just that. You needed to be reminded that you should never keep a secret from him.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, gn!reader, established relationship, some fluff, mirror sex, rough sex

Secrets are meant to be shared (Mihawk)

There weren’t many options when it came to finding that perfect present for someone like him. Although he wasn’t outwardly outspoken about what he favored, he had his preferences much like anyone else. Something that showed your attentiveness to his less spoken of interests would go a long way with him. Tucked away under your bed so as to remain out of sight, the perfectly wrapped present with a modest bow waited patiently.

Hearing footsteps traveling down the hall, you sprang up from the side of the bed just in time. He entered the room, side-eyeing you and the flustered look upon your face.

“Did you forget something?” Your curiosity was far from subtle.

He took a moment to examine your posture. Your palms were sweaty and your eyes showed the amount of stress you were experiencing. “Perhaps…” 

The few steps he took towards the bed sent your heart racing. You knew you shouldn’t have risked hiding it in the shared space, but you’d convinced yourself that it would be too obvious to raise suspicion.

When he stopped at the side of the bed, you stared at him from across the mattress. “I have a feeling you’re keeping something from me.”

“What? Me? I could never.” You were the least graceful liar there was. He sighed and walked over to the vanity mirror, gesturing for you to join him. He stood behind you and gently laid his hands on your shoulders.

“Look at yourself. You’re shaking like a leaf.” The attention to your frame shivering slightly from the tension you’d caused for yourself was apparent. 

As he leaned closer, his breath bathed your neck. Soft, open-mouthed kisses were pressed on your sensitive skin. He held your hips tightly while you bore more of your neck to him. The sensation of his teeth grazing over your pulse made goosebumps break out over your body. A gentle bite when paired with roaming hands on your thighs were making your head spin. Softly, a moan passed your lips, giving him his queue to delve deeper into desire.

Such a beautiful display of devotion deserved to be handled with the utmost care. His fingers undid your pants, letting them drop to your ankles. Running his hands over the outer parts of your hips and thighs served as a reminder that the best of things come to those who wait. Despite your body aching for more, you knew such patience would be rewarded handsomely. A glimpse of you in the mirror was all he needed to see the evidence of your arousal.

He nipped at your earlobe, while his hands gripped your inner thighs. Finally, he reached under the elastic of your underwear. The soft sound you made when he touched you where you needed him most complimented his guttural groan. Your body was already eager for him, but he couldn’t resist teasing you a little for thinking you could keep a secret from him.

Your hands clamped down upon the dresser, causing the mirror to shake and rattle. Each skillful movement of his fingers had your thighs trembling. The huffs and pants of needy moans coming from you were growing more and more impatient. There was no use in trying to hold back those blissful sounds of euphoria; he knew your body too well.

The sound of him unbuckling his pants crept up behind you, shortly followed by his arousal being pressed up against you. Him stroking himself at the mere state he’d put you in was making your ass shake slightly from the friction. You gripped the dresser harder as he teased your tight little hole with the tip of his cock through your underwear.

Just as withholding your begs and groans for more was reaching a boiling point he finally gave into his own desires. Ripping that last shred of clothing down, he pinned you against the dresser. Firmly, he grabbed your hips, spreading you perfectly for him to slide right in. Stretching you out never felt anything less than heavenly.

Slight grunts as he thrusted against you alluded to more than the heat of the moment. You were his and he was yours, anything other than passionate in a moment like this would be criminal. Losing yourself in the pleasure, you leaned forward on the wooden surface. Gently, he wrapped his hand around your throat and forced your back to arch while he pulled you up. Making eye contact as he took you from behind made your entire body tingle. He reached around to play with you and coax out every sound you were capable of all while his thrusts went deeper and harder. 

Your moans of ecstasy, you clawing at his arms, the way your body was spasming around him the closer he pushed you towards the edge: he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you—a vision of beauty. The mirror shook more violently, and the drawers were opening and closing with urgency as he chased his own high.

Your body quaked against him, choked back cries of your climax filled his ears. He couldn’t resist letting himself indulge in such blissful release any longer. Watching the way your body moved as he released each drop of himself deep inside you made the sensation all that more intense. He bit your shoulder to muffle his own groans of pleasure. The extra spasm from you got him to bite down harder as pleasure jolted through his veins.

A few more pushes into you were all he needed to completely drain himself. You fell on your forearms as your legs gave out. He leaned over you, a sense of pride and affection washing over him. His hand caressed your back and lingered on the dip of your waist. Softly, he pressed a kiss on the bite mark he left on your shoulder, soothing any sting he’d left behind.

Trailing kisses up your neck, he whispered in your ear. “And don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll love any present you’ve stowed under our bed.”

You hid your flustered expression in your hands. “You knew?” 

“You’re anything but subtle.”

Groaning at your own lack of the art of surprise, you went over to get the present from under the bed. Holding it in your hands, you nippled your lower lip. “I’d hoped to give this to you in a more… romantic setting.”

Much to his word, you had nothing to worry about. Being a man of action more than verbal expression, you knew right when he opened the box that he appreciated what you’d spent so long putting together.

[fkinkindagauche]

How You Turn My World, You Precious Thing

Written for @steddie-spooktober day 30 prompt - "Where in the hell did you find that costume??"

Rating: Explicit | WC: 2,271 | CW: None | Tags: Getting Together, Blow Jobs, Coming in Pants, Steve Harrington's Bisexual Crisis (brought to you by David Bowie)

Title is of course from "Within You" by David Bowie from the Labyrinth soundtrack.

"I don't understand why you're doing a couples costume with Eddie," Steve said, a look of disgust on his face. "Am I not your platonic soulmate? Have I been replaced?"

Robin sighed and scrubbed a hand over her face. "For the last time, Steve, I just wasn't interested in any of your costume ideas, and I was interested in Eddie's."

"So, to be clear, you discarded the idea of going as Goose to my Maverick to go as the moody teen to Eddie's David Bowie from a children's movie?" Steve asked, hands on his hips.

"You haven't even seen Labyrinth, dingus, don't sound so unimpressed," Robin replied. "Eddie put together a pretty great costume. And my costume was a lot cheaper to put together than a believable Goose costume would be."

"Yeah, because it just looks like something you would wear, only you have a hideous black wig on," Steve said, giving her a once-over. "Sometimes I doubt your commitment to our soulmateship."

He wasn't going to let this go. They'd all gotten close in the months since the worst spring break on record. He even hung out with Eddie on his own sometimes. But that didn't make the knee-jerk friendvy reaction any less jarring. (Robin had told him "friendvy" just sounded stupid, but he preferred to consider it an adorable and genius portmanteau of "friend" and "envy").

Robin sighed as they pulled up to Vickie's house. She was hosting a Halloween party, mostly for theater and band geeks, but Steve hadn't exactly gotten any other invites so he agreed to come. Any chance he could take to bust out his highly flattering Maverick costume in an attempt to get laid.

"I think you're actually really gonna like Eddie's costume," Robin said, giving Steve a significant look as they walked toward the house.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked sharply.

She shrugged. "I saw the looks you were giving him when we went to the Hideout last weekend."

Steve spluttered, blushing. He'd been avidly avoiding acknowledging his nascent attraction to Eddie to himself in his own mind, and he certainly wasn't ready to talk about it with Robin. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm here for one purpose only - boobies."

Robin groaned and smacked him on the arm. "You're disgusting," she said.

"Would you prefer breasts? Knockers? Bosoms? Jugs? Tits?" He rattled them off so quickly she couldn't get a word in between them.

"Jesus, Steven, stop it," she said, shoving him harder. "I can't take you anywhere."

Steve graciously left off his litany of boob euphemisms once they got inside, Robin scanning the crowd.

"Eddie!" she yelled, walking over to a corner where a man with long, spiky blonde hair was standing, wearing incredibly tight pants with knee-high boots, and a ruffled shirt under a black vest.

Steve looked around for a few moments, searching for Eddie, until Robin approached the corner and pulled the blonde man into a side hug. He turned, and Steve let out a shocked gasp, realizing it was Eddie.

"Where in the hell did you find that costume?" Steve asked, mouth hanging open as he took in Eddie's elaborate make-up to go along with the clothes. "And where's your real hair?"

Eddie threw back his head and laughed, baring the long line of his neck, now draped with multiple necklaces. Steve swallowed hard, eyes drawn to the light dusting of chest hair he could see in the ample amount of chest exposed by the open neck of the shirt.

"Is that vest supposed to look like a corset?" Steve asked, enthralled as he reached out a hand to touch it, feeling the warmth of Eddie's skin through the fabric. His eyes tracked further down, to the obvious bulge he could see in Eddie's tight pants. "I thought this was a children's movie!" He knew he was blushing, could feel the heat in his face.

Eddie locked eyes with him when he finally looked back up, smirking. "Eyes up here, big boy," Eddie said. Steve's face grew even redder, and he wanted to melt into a puddle of goo on the floor and never look at Eddie again.

Steve felt his dick stir in his pants at the thought of Eddie's cock, right there in front of him, practically on display. He couldn't manage to get any words out, just kept staring at Eddie with his mouth open.

"Everything okay there, Harrington?" Eddie asked, smirk changing to a look of confusion. Robin was looking at Steve with something like glee on her face.

"I need to… use the bathroom," Steve managed to get out, turning away from them and pushing through the crush of people to a hallway. He managed to find an open bathroom and slipped inside, shutting and locking the door behind him as he slid to the floor against it.

He put his head in his shaking hands, trying to slow his racing heart. He couldn't really deny it anymore. He was attracted to Eddie. He'd never been attracted to a man before, bar that one fleeting moment in the shower with Billy Hargrove, when he'd been simultaneously aroused and infuriated.

But Eddie - he was something else entirely. Steve was finally admitting to himself , here on this bathroom floor, that he was physically attracted to Eddie. He'd known for a long time that he loved his smile, and his laugh, and his self-deprecating humor, and his willingness to help any of his friends, whatever they needed. Now he was finally acknowledging a physical attraction, and he was fucking terrified.

A knock on the door interrupted his spiral.

"Steve? You in there?" Eddie's voice asked.

"Can you send Robin in?" Steve asked pathetically.

There was an awkward pause. "Um. She said she had something she needed to do and that I should go check on you. I don't know where she is."

Fucking typical. Robin was trying to play cupid in the midst of his bisexual crisis.

"Are you okay?" Eddie asked when he got no response from Steve. "You sick or something? Can I come in and help?"

Of course he wanted to help. Saint fucking Eddie.

"I'm fine," Steve said, sighing. "Go away."

"You don't sound fine, man," Eddie replied. "Fucking wait a minute okay?" Eddie yelled, probably to someone in the hall. "Steve, let me in," Eddie said in a lower voice.

Steve stood and opened the door. Eddie came in and shut the door behind him, locking it again.

"You gonna puke?" Eddie asked. "You and Robin must've been going hard before you got here."

Steve looked at Eddie again, with his delectable wispy chest hair and his stupidly beautiful smile and the sizable bulge in his pants. Steve made an impulsive decision, the only kind he seemed capable of making these days. He put both hands on Eddie's chest and pushed him so his back was against the door, then leaned in and kissed him.

It wasn't that different from kissing a girl. He could feel the beginning of Eddie's stubble coming in, scratching lightly against his chin, but his lips were just as soft and warm as a girl's. Eddie gasped into his mouth, tensing up for a moment before relaxing against Steve, kissing him back.

Steve tentatively licked over Eddie's lower lip, and Eddie opened his mouth, allowing Steve's tongue inside. Steve slowly licked into his mouth, tangling his own tongue with Eddie's, moving to explore the roof of his mouth, the sides of his teeth. He pushed a hand into Eddie's ridiculous wig, pulling it askew, as Eddie wrapped his hands around Steve's hips and pulled him more firmly against himself.

Steve could feel Eddie's cock now, hard against his thigh. He slotted a leg between Eddie's thighs and pushed up. Eddie groaned into his mouth and pressed down onto Steve's leg as Steve moved his thigh back and forth, rubbing. Steve was sure Eddie could feel his own cock now, straining against the confines of his jumpsuit.

Steve's hips involuntarily bucked up into Eddie's hip, seeking friction. Eddie's tongue was meeting his in a ferocious clash, both of them vying for control of the kiss. Steve broke off first, trailing his lips down Eddie's neck, to the vee in his shirt. He bit the skin there as one of Eddie's hands came up to grab a fistful of his hair, tugging.

Steve sucked a bruise into Eddie's skin next to his tattoo, one that would be visible when they returned to the party. Eddie was panting above him, still grinding his cock down onto Steve's thigh, when Steve dropped to his knees.

His absolute favorite thing to do with women was give head. He felt a sudden urge to see if that was the same with men. He looked up at Eddie, who was staring down at him with a shocked look on his face, one hand still fisted in Steve's hair. His wig was askew, tendrils of his curly brown hair escaping around the sides, and his makeup was smudged from their frantic kissing. Steve had never seen anyone more beautiful.

Steve tugged lightly at Eddie's pants, giving him ample opportunity to push Steve away. He didn't push Steve away, so Steve pulled harder, bringing the skin-tight leggings down. As Steve had suspected, he wasn't wearing underwear beneath them, and his cock sprang free, hard and huge.

Steve had always thought himself well-endowed, compared himself to the other guys in the locker room and found himself above average. But Eddie was in a whole other league.

Steve's mouth dropped open as he considered that he may have made a huge mistake. How was it even going to fit? He took a deep breath, psyching himself up, then bent to lick a bead of precum off the head.

Eddie thrust his hips up minutely, clearly struggling hard to keep himself under control, and let out a breathy gasp. The hand in Steve's hair tightened as Steve licked around the head, taking just the tip into his mouth. He held the base of Eddie's cock in one hand, like he remembered girls doing with his, as he slowly sank further.

Steve pressed his tongue against the underside of Eddie's cock as he began to move his mouth up and down. He was only getting about a quarter of his cock into his mouth, but Eddie seemed to be thoroughly enjoying it, if the increasing amounts of precum he could taste were any indication.

"Fuck, Steve," Eddie said as Steve hollowed his cheeks out to provide more suction. Eddie was making little breathy noises, like aborted moans, and Steve could feel the strain in his hips as he tried not to fuck into Steve's mouth.

The weight of Eddie's cock on his tongue combined with his musky scent and the noises he was making were enough to have Steve's cock aching. He started to cup himself with his free hand, pressing his palm into his cock and rubbing as he sucked Eddie off.

Just as his jaw was beginning to ache, Eddie seemed to lose control of his hips, starting to thrust into Steve's mouth a little. "'M gonna come soon, Stevie," Eddie said between breaths. "Might want to vacate the area."

Steve snorted back a laugh, pulling off to say, "Come in my mouth."

Eddie thumped his head back into the door and groaned. "Fucking shit," he said under his breath as Steve took his cock back in his mouth.

Steve started to press his palm harder into his own cock as he bobbed his head on Eddie's, spit slicking his hand now and making it easier to stroke the length of Eddie's shaft that wasn't in his mouth. Steve could feel his own orgasm building, spurred on by the moans falling from Eddie's mouth.

As he felt the first hot spurts of Eddie's cum in his mouth, he rubbed frantically over his own cock, bringing himself to orgasm as he swallowed every drop of Eddie's cum. Steve continued to suck long after their orgasms were finished, enjoying the feel of Eddie's cock softening in his mouth.

Eventually, Eddie tugged at his hair, and Steve finally let his cock slide out of his mouth. He wiped a bit of cum or spit off the side of his mouth and looked up at Eddie.

"If I'd known dressing up as David Bowie would get Steve Harrington on his knees I would have done it a long time ago," Eddie said, pulling Steve up to stand. He reached for the zipper on Steve's jumpsuit, but Steve stilled his hand before he could start to undo it.

"Not going to let me reciprocate?" Eddie asked, looking a little hurt. "Was it just a little experiment for you?"

Steve shook his head vigorously. He grabbed Eddie's hand and moved it down to the wet spot spreading near his cock. "Not at all. Got a little carried away."

Eddie's eyebrows shot up. "You came in your adorable little jumpsuit while you blew me?"

Steve nodded, blushing.

"Fuck, you're unreal. I'm dressing up as Bowie every day," Eddie said.

Someone banged on the door, startling them, and yelled, "What the fuck are you doing in there? Some of us have to piss!"

"Shit. I didn't even get to see you naked," Eddie said, pouting.

"Next time," Steve said, reaching for the door as Eddie pulled up his pants.

"There's gonna be a next time?" Eddie said, eyes twinkling like a kid on Christmas morning.

"There's gonna be a whole lot of next times," Steve said, opening the door.

divider by @steddiecameraroll-graphics

[robolvrr]

Hi! I’m 19 just to clarify in case of anything.

Can I request HCS for TFA Optimus and Megatron with a childish human female reader, that basically yaps a lot and is energetic asf?

I was also wondering if you could make a NSFW version too? Tysm☺️🙏💕

hey non! gladly. 🤖

nsfw under the cut.

all charged up! ⊰⁠⊹ฺ⚡

tfa! optimus & megatron headcanons for a childish/energetic reader (fem! human)

"no, don't touch that. wh -- no, don't touch that either! oh, by the allspark, hellooo!"

optimus prime

remember when i said optimus stressed out protecting humanity?

yeah, this was primarily the source of why.

he's always got tons of responsibility placed on his shoulders.

his team, for one, is always managing to get themselves into trouble and while he cares for them deeply, he's gonna start gaining faceplate dents like ratchet.

so when you get fumbled in the crew? he thinks that maybe karma is out to get him from some past transgression.

"can i touch that?"

"no."

"how about.. this!"

"wh-- no. are you trying to lose one of those things?"

"fingers?"

"not the point. it's an axe, not a toy."

he chides you just like everyone else out of love.

if he didn't care (which just isn't in his circuits, is there a rusted piston anywhere in that heroic frame?) he'd let you go wild.

when the threat of death isn't looming though?

finds your characteristics to be rather charming. he is after all familiar with bee and the twins and sari.

you have a strange way of encouraging him to relax, believe it or not. remind him life isn't just work and balancing the universe in his servos.

when he isn't in a mood, he likes to listen to you ramble.

you have a unique perspective. like how you talk to him for hours about how you thought ghosts were real and ask silly questions about his culture like "do you guys eat rocks?"

he goes to you the most to consult about earth.

hyperfixations? he may not understand a lick of yours or just what "my little pony was and how it changed the internet for years to come", but he lets you animatedly describe every thought on every inch of your brain.

let's you sit on his shoulders.

similar to your planet, you've gotten him warmed up to you.

"just how much longer do you plan on prattling, little one?"

megatron

he's mean.

i mean, what do you expect from an galactic warlord?

not to say he doesn't find amusement in the behavior. his lackeys frequently argue and get into ridiculous situations and arguments on a cycles basis.

however, he doesn't like organics. given his predicament, fiending without the power of a frame to push his narratives for so long builds resentment.

at first he finds you an absolute nuisance. you were really a comment away from having shockwave get a hold of you instead.

he's kidnapped you from the autobots because similar to that meddlesome doctors offspring, they clearly hold high regards for you.

you just didn't stop talking.

yes, you got the large glass jar treatment.

yes, he did rattle it once when you asked him if "decepticons sounded like band name."

when he's feeling boredom, he'll demand you try to say anything interesting.

he holds little regard to your feelings. though he does find the need, almost craving, for you to constantly be restless.... somewhat entertaining.

think of how one looks at a mangy mutt. (isn't he a gentlemech?!)

nsfw.

optimus prime

"hahhh.. hff. just h-how long can you keep up this pace, haha!?"

you have the libido of a bunny.

optimus learns the hard way, when you first start to get intimate.

you're eager -- you both are -- but he finds your wandering hands to be almost overwhelming as you just can't keep still.

you ask him lots and lots of questions. how big is he? can you lick his valve? are those fluids toxic? do you need to get protection?

his helm is hot to the touch. he ends up putting his digit in your mouth as a distraction.

interfacing with you is never slow. it's why he has to concentrate every control filter to not slamming into you when you claw at his array and whine at him to stop being a bully.

he's about to correct you but of course, you're talking. his audials are close to setting on fire.

you shove yourself on his spike and he bites his dermas hard, because you're just so eager and he's way too big. just the tip is enough to create a bulge at your mound and suddenly, his intake feels very, very dry.

you're so talkative. too talkative.

"ha... mmn! your spike is so, so good! i-i can't believe i'm doing this! sex with a giant. ahn! robot!!! this is the best day of my life!"

his optics are burning and bright. your excitement drips down his shaft.

when the compliments get to be too much, he ends up grabbing your wrists and pinning them behind you, bouncing your body against his hips.

he silences you a lot with kisses. not out of annoyance (though sometimes you do get too loud and he's not trying to risk waking up the entire base), but because you fluster him so damn bad.

when he overloads and you're squealing, he lifts you up just to see the sticky transfluid roll down your ankles.

".... another round?"

"another!?"

megatron

"not so chatty now, are you little one?"

megatron's cruelty does not stop at the berthroom.

his way of dealing with your nonstop buzzing? is to simply frag it out of you.

it's painfully indulgent. you're the size of nothing compared to him, a behemoth of a being outside your comprehension. he treats you like a sleeve.

you ask the stupid notion if maybe he needed to get his frustration out in a more "fun" way.

then maybe he wouldn't be so gloomy all the time!

the look he gives is terrifying. that smile isn't helping either....

all that energy and innocent glee? he plans on putting to good use.

now, he finds your cherub nature enchanting. how you whine and chirp out silly protests, huffing how he's just a "big, bad meanie" and you were gonna "make him regret it, so help it!"

"yesss, yesss. cry harder, little human."

takes you from behind so he can stick a single digit in the pocket of your cheek. you loll your tongue out in a way he finds appealing and stupid.

when you go on rambles amidst his planning, primarily when you are bored and lonely, don't be surprised if he opens his panels at your chin and pops it in between your lips.

"am... i... ffff.. a-am i gonna get pregnant with your little ro--"

"don't finish that imbecilic question unless you want this to be the last time, girl."

megatron's human concubine. there's a first time in history for everything, after all.

deep down? he doesn't want you to change a bit. he rather likes breaking you down.

[autumndragon]

summary: ryker has been tasked with bringing the boy to viggo's tent—a task that proves to be much more difficult than he thought.

this one is for @thedragon-and-hisboy @evilwriter37 and @eat-your-milk because i know you all love this as much as i do<3

for context: it's a canon divergent au where hiccup and toothless accidentally crash land on the isle of hunters after a storm during season 1 of race to the edge, so it's their first time running into viggo and ryker, and vice-versa!

enjoy<3

Getting the boy into Viggo's tent is an ordeal that tests Ryker's patience—and he barely has any to begin with.

The boy thrashes like a wild creature caught in a snare as they move down the stone path, all lean sinew and fiery fury, twisting in Ryker's grip so violently it's a wonder the hunter hasn't dropped him yet. His wrists are bound tightly in front of him with a piece of coarse rope, a strip of cloth tied between his teeth to keep him from sending another hunter to the healer for stitches.

Lars flits about beside them like a nervous sparrow, hands half-lifted to help, though Ryker pointedly ignores him, wrestling the feral thing in his arms without assistance.

The tent looms ahead, at the very end of the maddening spiral of the quarry that Ryker has never cursed more than today. The heavy flaps of canvas stir slightly in the sluggish morning breeze, and inside, the air is cooler, heavy with the scent of oil lamps and paper.

Viggo stands behind his desk, hands folded neatly behind his back, gaze already fixed on the boy as Ryker shoulders his way in.

The boy bucks again, teeth flashing behind the gag, boots dragging uselessly against the fine rugs that line the floor. Ryker mutters a low curse under his breath, shifting his grip on the boy and hoisting him fully off the ground so his feet cannot find purchase, one thick arm locked under the boy's bound arms, the other cinched tight around his middle.

Still, the boy fights, now free to kick without grounding—and he does, viciously, catching a low-standing cabinet near the entrance with a sharp blow of his metal prosthetic. The cabinet rattles violently under the assault, sending a carved model ship, a few wooden cups and a heavy brass compass that once belonged to Ryker's grandfather toppling and clattering noisily to the floor.

Ryker growls another curse, wrenching the boy's writhing form away from the wreckage, manhandling him forward toward the desk with grim determination.

"By the gods," Ryker mutters through gritted teeth, shifting the boy's weight with a grunt when its threatening to slip out, "how are you still fighting?!"

Behind the desk, Viggo watches the scene unfold with a calm, inscrutable expression, a single hand still held behind his back. The polished surface of his desk rocks violently when the boy slams his boot against it in passing, enough to shove it half an inch across the rug. An ornate pencil jar rattles precariously near the edge, then topples, scattering pencils like fallen arrows across the floor.

"Oh for Thor's sake—!" Ryker tightens his grip and hauls the boy back with a grunt, earning him a fresh flurry of muffled snarls and protests from his captive.

Viggo, unbothered, lifts a hand to catch the pencil jar before it can roll off the desk, calmly putting it back on its designated spot in the corner. For a moment, he regards the boy quietly—dirt-streaked, rope-burned, breathing hard through his nose, hair tangled wildly about his face, green eyes burning with a mixture of terror and fury.

The desperate thrash of someone convinced he must fight now or perish.

[sevviesbabe]

GREED

Warning⚠️ dark/yandere themes, kidnapping, drugged reader, possessive/toxic Ellie, forced proximity, mild Stockholm syndrome, mentions of potential intimacy. 18+

Minors scroll and do NOT interact, no likes or comments, NOTHING!

It was quite the introduction, Y/N had little left in her back pack other than first aid supplies that she found on her travel, seemed like a godsend at the time.

Gunshots ahead flying through the trees sent Y/N ducking next to the largest rock she could see, hands pressing into her sunburnt ears from the harsh sounds that still managed to rattle through the ground and into her bones.

Soon the shots died down, replaced by a stranded whimper, one that sounded more gravelly and throaty as it progressed. Y/N had the guts to peer out from the safety of the rock, to find a weathered looking young woman, about 10 meters away, lifting herself up from the ground and perhaps similar age if not older, hard to tell when she appears to wear the impacts of her environment like clothing. Mud both wet and dry covering the bottom of her torn jeans, smothering her flannel shirt, grass stuck to her elbows and prickles woven into her auburn hair. Hair that was pulled up off her face, showing her eyes whose irises swirled adrenaline within them.

The pants stopped as her eyes caught Y/N.

Y/N saw the gun and feared it was her who was shooting, but this woman truly did appear to be on the go, running from someone or people. Seeing this peculiar woman’s eyes lower in almost a retreating manner, the fear slowly left Y/N’s body and on instinct squeezed her backpack that had first aid.

Y/N jogged to this girl, whose attention seemed not fully fixated yet, almost a hundred miles away. “ Here I have first aid in my bag I’ve got anti septic I’ve got bandages even a heating pack-“ the rest of the words were truly a blur to the auburn haired girl, who initially jolted at the jarring sound of rushed panicked words coming from Y/N.

“ I’m Y/N by the way, I’m just travelling! and do you know if those people are gonna come back or what?!” Y/N says in between hurried breaths and she rummages through her bag, pulling out anything that may be useful.

“Ellie.” The green eyed girl says, in a tired and monotone voice. Y/N’s eyes peered up quickly at the sound of her husky voice, feeling in such a shamble that it wasn’t clicking that Ellie was simply saying her name too. “ I’m sorry?” Y/N breathes out, Ellie lazily gestures to herself- “I’m Ellie.”

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

It seems so long ago now, that first interaction, so simple. Little did Y/N know she’d be residing at a farmhouse for months with no end in sight, or to put more accurately, she’d be kept at the farmhouse.

You see, Ellie watched as Y/N fussed over her scratches when she suggested that they both go to her home and then worry about it. These scratches didn’t compare to her other injuries in the past, but Y/N insisted upon whispering hushed, comforting words to her as she cleaned her up.

Ellie hadn’t quite felt doted over like this before, in fact she hadn’t felt much human interaction for quite sometime. One that didn’t involves quick glimpses of gangs before running for her life, or even being the one that makes people fear their own.

Ellie asked Y/N to get her some water, left to sneak into her study and had pulled out a vial of something menacing to quickly suck up into a syringe, before sneaking up behind her victim and giving her a quick shot to the neck, already holding Y/N still up against her. The glass of water falling from her hands as the vision faded.

And that is how Y/N ended up spending most of her time on a mattress on the floor, tied by a rope attached to hook on the floor to keep her there, which honestly as time went by, she realised having her own bed is probably a good sign. Whilst Ellie practically breathed down Y/N’s neck when she came back from hunting, she only craved fairly platonic touches, at least that’s all she’d show. There’d be the occasional slip up where’d Ellie’s breath would quicken and her clingy hand would drop from an arm to a thigh and glide upwards, bunching up the flimsy shorts she’d have her captive wear and before it’d even registered she did it a whimper would creep up and out of Y/N’s throat, breaking Ellie out of her haze, and would release her grip like you were fire.

Believe it or not, sometimes Y/N would feel bad for Ellie, the look of rejection or either just looking stunned after hearing the frightful noises. Ellie would just pinch her nose bridge in frustration, not clear out of the two of them who she was annoyed at most.

The thing is Y/N knows that it’s only a matter of time, she is the only girl Ellie comes home to, the only person. Ellie clearly has needs, to literally drug a person into staying with them, surely it’s not all just for simply existing in the same house. Shamefully to admit, Y/N would be so bored all day on that bed that when she’d hear Ellie’s footsteps down the hallway, the door creaks open to let in the typical worn down girl, with eyes that look as if weights dragged them down, triggered you to open your body up for a hug, to which Ellie would just fall into and drift off to sleep.

It’s almost as if caring for her gave you a distraction, like she herself wasn’t the one that needed to be saved , but when Ellie wakes and lift her head off your chest and gazes into your eyes, inches apart, it made your breath hitch at the reminder of what she could be expecting from you in the future.