#same goes for the fingerless gloves

[dadsbongos]

local adventurers get body swapped and fuck sloppy style

2.5 K words / warnings - unprotected pinv sex, fem body for reader, oral (m+f receiving), slight choking, pwp, not super proofread

summary - something something marcille and senshi need medicinal herbs… its not important. you and chilchuck and laios get it on in each other's bodies

~~~

“Laios, I don’t know if you should touch those…”

“He definitely shouldn’t!”

Laios touches the vibrant orange flower petals, grazing his fingertips from the outer curl towards the neon yellow stigma, “I think if I press right here, then…”

“Laios!” Chilchuck shrieks at the same time you gasp, “No!”

A yellow powder spews from the now gaping stigma, clogging Laios’ entire head. In your shared panic to rescue the man, you and Chilchuck also inhale traces of the pollen. It tastes unexpectedly sweet, like ripe apples fresh from their tree -- it’s also incredibly disorienting. Head spinning and throat tight, you’re forced to clench your eyes while stumbling for either of the familiar bodies you’d arrived with.

You find one -- cold metal flattening your palm, though it’s strange -- what you’re touching is only the waist of Laios’ cuirass, but you’re reaching up. Your fingers just barely graze the lip of his arm opening.

Certain you’re not kneeling, and now uncertain that you’re sane, you open your eyes to gaze into the beaming reflection of… yourself. But this version of you has her hands skimming down her sides, nails biting the pouch over your tummy.

Glancing up, you find brown fingerless gloves covering your hand. You also find that you have to really stretch your neck to look up at Laios, who is staring down at you with a disturbed flinch.

“Laios?”

It's your own voice that heeds, “Yeah?”

Slowly, you swing your(?) head to face yourself, eyes wide, “Laios?”

“Yeah?”

With an uncertain, shivery hand, you point up at the armored blonde, “Chilchuck…?”

Laios’ voice whispers back your name before gently pleading, “Get out of my body…”

“I don’t know how!” you wail, tugging on brown hair just to feel the sting that confirms this isn’t some horrible nightmare, “Laios, what’d you do?!”

“If you squeeze this flower right, then it goes into self-defense mode and releases a pollen-like substance that switches people’s souls and bodies. Pretty neat, right?” his excitement with the flower is interrupted by a more carnal curiosity, “Can I feel?” he hovers your own hands over your chest and makes a squeezing motion, “I wonder if they’re as squishy as they look?”

“Sure…”

“Yay,” he murmurs, immediately latching to your chest, “Your breasts are so soft, and warm.”

“Thanks,” your naturally gentle tonation sounds odd, dissonant with Chilchuck’s agitated and shrill voice.

“Don’t let him fondle you!” Chilchuck, bizarrely, sounds natural in Laios’ body. Loud and resolute, “That’s so inappropriate!”

“I don’t mind, Chilchuck, really.”

“And don’t say my name with my own voice!”

“Sorry…”

“I wonder how you feel inside.”

Disturbed, you and Chilchuck’s heads turn toward where Laios continues to grope your (his?) chest -- his breaths shortening to gasps and lip sucked between his teeth.

“What’d you just say?” Chilchuck points a shaky finger at Laios.

If Laios finds looking himself in the face strange, he makes no indication. Merely beaming at Chilchuck in his body and shrugging while squeezing your boobs, “Isn’t it so cool that just pollen can swap us so perfectly? Why wouldn’t we try to explore each other’s bodies in a situation like this?”

Chilchuck’s embarrassment makes Laios’ cheeks flare red hot, an annoyed huff spiking past his clenched teeth, “It’ll only make things worse for the party in the long run! Inter-party romance is a terrible idea!”

“It’s not romance, just investigation.”

Before a punch can be thrown from the flustered Chilchuck, you lay a lithe hand on either man’s shoulder (pushing into the back of your mind how strange it is to call a hand smaller than your own yours), “Laios, you have to see how strange that sounds to people not as… curious as you.”

“But I’ve always wanted to know how your bodies work,” Laios frowns, “I get that we’re all humans, so it's basically the same thing and not as interesting, but when it comes to you two I just can’t help it. I want to know how soft your mouths are and how your joints roll in action,” he then peers specifically at Chilchuck, batting your lashes pathetically, “Especially your body, Chil, since I rarely see you do more than deactivate traps.”

“That’s because that’s my job! I don’t fight!”

“Chilchuck, he’s not judging you,” you move the hand on his shoulder down to his hand, Laios’ large palm massively overwhelming Chilchuck’s -- you’re captivated by the difference, “If Laios had a problem with you not fighting, I’m sure you wouldn’t still be in the party.”

“I just want to know how you both feel,” you could cringe at the sound of your voice saying something so naughty, but for the sake of Laios’ feelings you don’t, “Inside and out.”

“Did you consider how that’d be for us? Having to look our own faces in their face during something like that.”

“Like what? I just want to poke,” Laios stretches your fingers with a wiggle, “Maybe some fingering.”

That’d be more believable if Laios wasn’t such a terrible liar, his tells making your back straightening impossibly and knees buckling. Laios starkly dodges both yours and Chilchuck’s scrutinizing stares.

“We know you better than that. You’ll wanna go all out,” despite your inclination to give Laios the benefit of doubt, you’re forced to nod alongside Chilchuck’s accusation.

“Is that so bad?”

Is it?

You’re not as anatomically intrigued as Laios (at least pretends to be), but you can’t lie to yourself and say the men aren’t attractive. Laios is beefy yet kind, piercing amber eyes and soft blonde hair -- his arms look perfect for holding you down as he impales you with his cock. Chilchuck is slight and nimble, big brown eyes with thick lashes and silver hairs sprinkled through brown locks -- his dominable frame would be easy to ride until he’s got tears in his eyes and pleas flowing from his fussy lips.

“I don’t think so,” you move, stepping over to Laios’ side, “I think it could be worth a try.”

“No way!” Chilchuck glares at you for your betrayal, “There is no chance I’d ever do something so depraved!”

.

.

.

“This is so weird…” Chilchuck whines from Laios’ throat, throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the sight before him.

You, in Chilchuck’s own body, knelt beside Laios occupying your body as you both lick over his flushed erection. Laios seems to show no shyness, eagerly teasing your soft lips across his skin until he’s tonguing the underside. Meanwhile, you’ve got the smoldering head twitching on your tongue -- suckling softly before releasing your lips with a pop and laving the side with attention. Eventually, Laios bores of kitten licks and lowers towards the balls, giving you room to suck his penis into your mouth fully.

Chilchuck winds a hand, larger than he’s used to controlling, through your hair, peeking under his spare arm to watch Laios abuse your likeness. Blinking sweetly and humming while warming his own nuts with gurgled saliva. With advanced hearing, you can make out even the minute sound of Laios’ inferior gag reflex choking on his own balls.

You can also make out the deep rumble of Chilchuck panting and swallowing around his own arousal, lodged in his throat. Hoping to coax out the desire, you relax your gullet and bury your nose against flaxen pubes, making Chilchuck shudder and buck further into your throat.

“Oh, fuck,” he sighs, squeezing tighter around brown hair and shaking out your head before wrenching you back, “Wanna fuck your face.”

If you didn’t want him to as well, you’d be busy pointing out how your face is really his.

Instead, you moan eagerly and let your mouth hang open. Digging blunt nails into the handles on his hips for leverage as Chilchuck snaps into your gaping, velvety mouth. Spit gurgles past the rim of your lips, your sudden super hearing picking up every soft, throaty groan that spills from his chest. Despite his every effort to drown the sounds in kisses with Laios, you hear it -- you even hear how their lips mesh above your head.

Silky moans let out by your own voice, it’s startling. And arousing. Which makes it even more startling.

Chilchuck gasps and huffs abruptly, pulling you back to beat his cock against your puffy, raw lips. His whole body scrunches as broken, spotty moans dribble through him, shooting cum down your throat -- though having to bury his face into Laios’ neck (technically your neck) to avoid seeing his own face swallowing his seed.

With your own voice, heady and ragged with lust, Laios sprawls to the ground with spread legs, “I’m so hot,” he brainlessly bucks up against his roaming hand, eyes snapping to you, “How do you live like this?”

“I’m not horny all the time, Laios!”

Completely bypassing your protest, as per usual, Laios whimpers and undoes your trousers -- tickling a trembling finger down his (your) slit, “I need someone in me, please, please?”

You and Chilchuck stare at each other for a short while, silently debating who would be the one -- with newfound stamina in Laios’ body, Chilchuck could theoretically do it if he felt so greedy. Thankfully, he does not, and reclines beside Laios before pressing kisses into his neck while yanking you over by the belt. With eyes closed, he expertly undoes the pants to pull your brand new cock out.

Calloused, yet warm, hands stroke along your shaft in slow pumps before feeding your (his) tip into Laios.

Yours and Laios’ inexperience at the shared sensation is abundant in how you’re both gasping, sweat-slick messes. Laios wiggles further onto your cock, keening and back arching at the intrusion, while your hands are clammy and shaking on his hips. Your eyes can only stray as high as the breasts before things feel… weird… so you choose instead to obsess over the sight of your cock sliding in and out of a soaked cunt. Messy slick glinting in the sunlight, face melting with need, and all rational thought sucked into the tight clench of Laios.

Whining and leisurely thrusting into Laios, you close your eyes to fully absorb the sensations around you. Still, your heightened hearing can pick up the downright obscene gush of your sloppy, wet cunt being fucked open.

Chilchuck lays beside Laios, making you flinch at the unseen act of tracing his fingers around your cock in Laios to gather the splashing wetness before swirling the sodden pads into Laios’ clit.

“Ah!” your voice spikes, Laios grabbing Chilchuck’s wrist as if he could use your dwindling might to bat off his own strength. Chilchuck grins despite himself and continues abusing the bundle of nerves as desperation makes your drilling speed up. Laios wails and bunts eager hips to meet your thrusts, “Ah, ah, ah, ah- so good! This feels amazing!”

Laios presses the hand not clutching Chilchuck’s against your tummy, fingers prodding where cock batters his insides. Huffy little fuck, fuck, oh fucks leaving pouty, raw-bitten lips.

“Does it feel good?” Chilchuck laughs at you both, his sarcasm only being met with varied, broken ‘uh-huh’ responses. A thought brews in his following silence before he reaches up with a spare hand, “How about this, then?”

Suddenly, Laios’ large hand is wrapped around your neck, pressuring the sides to make your head spin.

Oh.

Oh that shouldn’t feel as good as it does.

Sudden restricted air pushes your hammering hips into overdrive, gut fizzling and tightening until you’re certain you’ll combust from the inside. You squeeze bruises into your own hips as you slam into Laios’ pliant body.

“Oh my God,” he suddenly wails from your mouth, “I think I’m- fuck! - am I?” his breath hitches, eyes wide and thighs cinching around your pumping hips, “Oh my God, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum!”

“Do it, then,” Chilchuck snides with lips still pressed to Laios’ neck, rudely pinching his clit, “Cum for us.”

“I’m cumming,” he babbles, throwing his head back, “I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m cumming!”

Laios’ complete lack of will obliterates your own, the intense milking of his orgasm around you practically pulling cum from your cock. You gasp under Chilchuck’s choking while stuffing Laios full.

As soon as you’ve pulled Chilchuck’s softening cock out, Laios darts a hand down to finger your abused cunt. Puffy lips parting around curious fingers, thighs twitching at the unwelcomed overstimulation. Mixed cum leaks onto his digits before he accidentally brushes a thumb over his own clit, sending his thighs clenching around his hand as he forces another orgasm from your body.

You blink, suddenly much drowsier than before, and when you open your eyes you’re on the ground. With twitching, aching thighs and a hand between your legs.

Before you can acclimate to the realization you’re returned to your proper body, large hands are spreading your thighs again. Laios dives in, much too excited, and licks along your slit with a seedy groan and pinched brows. As if he’s deriving pure pleasure from sucking your combined release out of your pussy. If anything, the unadulterated oddity and grossness confirms that Laios is, in fact, back in his own body.

“I remember you were needing a little something, big guy,” Chilchuck tiredly slumps against Laios’ side, reaching below the belt to tug Laios’ hardening cock, “Guess you do have a lot of stamina.”

“I wanted to taste it on my fingers before we switched back, but now I can have it on my real tongue,” Laios deliriously giggles, “How lucky is that?”

You’re given no pause to respond before he’s returning to tongue-fucking your spasming hole.

Chilchuck presses lazy kissing along Laios’ flushed skin, jostled slightly when Laios abruptly sits straight, bucking his hips into Chilchuck’s fist as he asks, “Can I cum on you? I want to taste us all together. I need to know- !”

“Fine!” you’re borderline shrieking, sniveling and sobbing in the overstimulation, “Yes, yes, cum on my cunt, Laios. Do whatever you want!”

As if waiting permission, once those words are uttered, Laios spurts across your heated groin. He wastes no time basking in his euphoria before drunkenly lapping up his cum dribbling across your pussy and into yours and Chilchuck’s juices.

“Feral,” Chilchuck notes, smearing the excess sperm across Laios’ thigh and collapsing by your side.

Quicker and more violent than you’d like, another orgasm swells from your tummy to your hips. Thighs clapping against Laios’ ears as his tongue lulls out to sap up your cum. Your nails scrape Laios’ scalp as you wrangle him back when you notice him trying to sink in for more.

“Laios, please!” you tiredly protest.

“Off,” Chilchuck says it short and curt, like training a puppy, as he bats Laios’ head.

Laios lifts his head and drops beside you as well, turning onto his side to stare at you both -- hands curled towards his chest for comfort, “That was fun. We should do it again, but with our normal bodies.”

Unbeknownst to Laios, both you and Chilchuck are passed out and tangled around on another. And unknown to all three of you, Marcille and Senshi are coughing and hacking out a plan to crawl out and search for your group on the hunt for medicinal herbs.

[thinemoonshine]

⋆𐙚₊ 𝓽𝐡𝐞 𝔀𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝓴𝐢𝐝 ˚⊹♡

admirer!sunghoon x oblivious!female reader content(s): sunghoon yearns, obsessive mannerisms, manipulation, reader likes cats/dogs, both implied to be in college/university — the weird kid's become fixated with you, and he wants you for himself

sunghoon isn’t a weird kid—well, not in people’s eyes. but he himself thinks he is. because for some reason, he can’t seem to blend in with any crowd, neither can he maintain a private conversation with anyone over 5 minutes. he doesn’t understand their jokes, or their slang, or their mannerisms. sometimes, he believes he’s from an entirely different ecosystem than them.

was he an impostor—an alien that got left on earth by mistake? at this point, he thinks it’s plausible.

it’s not that he’s shunned or anything. in fact, it’s the opposite. with striking features that are practically ethereal and a figure so lean and defined that rivals sculptures, he turns heads wherever he goes. but he can’t seem to reciprocate the attention.

and despite never being alone, he feels alone.

like a puzzle piece that fits too tight or too loosely—filling the space but never quite fitting in.

until, you came.

you weren’t outstandingly eye catching, nor were you completely inconspicuous but sunghoon’s gaze caught you either way.

crouching in an alley near his apartment, cooing as you fed the stray cats in a manner one would think you’re feeding human children. your socks mismatched in your cartoon slippers and fingerless knitted gloves doing nothing to warm your frozen fingers.

he isn’t sure what exactly about you caught his eye. maybe it’s the unfamiliarity in his otherwise typical routine, or the way you had your back turned so carelessly, or the way your eyes sparkled with genuine affection and attention for the cats who you clearly can’t socialize with.

there’s an obvious language barrier between you and the felines and yet, you speak to them, dote on them like you truly understand them—a species so entirely different from you.

and for the first time ever, he thinks someone else is weird.

the next few times he saw you, it was always at the same times. he would see you on his way back to his place, he’d pause to watch with hands in his pockets and cheeks flushed from the cold and leave the moment you stand.

even when it rained, when he’d expect you to be cooped up at home in comforting warmth and security, he found you in the alley with an umbrella over the cats rather than yourself as you fed them. and you’d hold it for as long as they needed to finish their meal.

and for the first time ever, his brows knitted as a thought crossed his mind.

‘how dumb…’ a pause. ‘and weird.’

it was the first time he had found someone foolish. he’d fail to understand people’s lingo sometimes but he’d always thought it was a flaw in his part—never theirs. until you came.

despite how dumb and odd sunghoon thought you were however, he couldn’t help but keep coming to watch like an avid fan. in fact, he's found himself a new guilty pleasure in learning your schedules—how elated he was when he found out you live in the same building as him. and even more so when you're just above his floor. and this kept going and going until the snow melted and flowers bloomed.

he’s ditched the coats and gloves to something lighter now and with a plastic bag of snacks in hand, he makes his way to watch his favorite artist: you.

he expects you’d be wearing an array of colours—a habit he's found you do because you can't be bothered to plan your outfits everyday—and crouching again, sacrificing your poor knees as you feed your furry friends with your back turned towards him and—

oh.

he’s stiffened entirely in place just as he’s about to crash into you who swerved out the alleyway with your head low.

you gasp as you jump backwards slightly and he furrows subtly.

you’ve strayed from routine. weird.

“sorry, i should’ve looked where i was going,” you apologize timidly and the sound of your normal voice—different from your doting cooing—sends shivers down his spine and his ears ring.

in a good way. because now your voice is echoing inside his head as if bouncing off the walls of a hollow cave.

sunghoon forgets to answer initially. “it’s fi—”

now it’s his words that freeze at the sight of your face. no, it’s not because your beauty steals his breath away or because you look different from how he expects—none of that. after all, he’s seen you time and time before.

instead, it’s because you’re…crying.

there are pools of blue in your typically scintillating eyes, shimmering cold lines on your usually warm, glowing cheeks and a downward curve on the corners of your lips that are always, always lifted.

once again, how odd.

“yes?” you pull him from his thoughts and only then does he notice the croak in your otherwise velvety tone.

his jaw clenches and eyes sharpen.

this is weird. you’re weird. and he doesn’t like this. he doesn’t like how he’s affected by this—by you.

he’s supposed to walk away, turn a blind eye to things that don’t concern him. you’re not one of his acquaintances, there’s no need to pretend to care and ask you what’s wrong and offer his shoulder.

he can walk away. he should walk away.

“what’s wrong?”

but he doesn’t.

there’s a flicker of surprise in your eyes before you look away with a weak chuckle.

“nothing, just, the cats i usually feed aren’t here. apparently they’ve been taken by animal control because someone reported them as ‘neighborhood pests’.”

sunghoon listens intently as you speak.

your raw voice is beautiful.

you turn to him—a smile, bittersweet, on your face. “i just got a bit sad that i won’t be seeing them anymore.”

your smile is simply sweet.

he blinks a few times, processing your words after brushing away his ‘intrusive’ thoughts. “they were strays, weren’t they?”

your brows knit for just a second.

he notices.

“this place was their home. they’ve lived in this neighborhood far longer than some residents have,” you declare. he senses a hint of defiance.

he takes a mental step back. there’s no use arguing.

“you’re right,” he agrees. “i was insensitive. i’m sorry.”

your shoulders visibly loosen and stare softens. “no, i—i get it. they were strays if you think about in another way. i just…felt it was a bit unfair to just take them away from the place they’ve been living at for so long.”

sunghoon tilts his head, curious at the way your mind works. he wants to know more. he yearns to know you. his fingers curl around the handle of his plastic bag tighter. it crinkles. you notice. he sees.

“i just bought some snacks but i think they’d taste better with company—if you don’t mind. as an apology,” he offers. “we can sit at the chairs outside the convenience store.”

your eyes widen slightly and brows raise. he’s going above and beyond just to make up for offending your beliefs. he seems…sweet. he looks sweet. kind and respectful.

feeling slightly uplifted, you nod with a smile. your oh, so honeyed smile. “sure.”

and sunghoon can’t restrain the grin that forms on his typically nonchalant face. “i’m glad.”

the two of you walk side by side and he peeks down at you stealthily. you’re weird and so is he. you’re foolish but even more, he. but you don’t need to know that.

it’d be foolish to confess that he was the one that called animal control just so you’d finally look at him more than you do at your feline friends. he didn’t expect them to be so quick, though.

it was abrupt—his decision—spontaneous and atypical of him.

but weirdly enough, you fell for it.

he’s feeling less lonely now that you’re with him. and it’s weird—but he likes it.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི₊ ⊹ masterlist ᝰ.ᐟ✮⋆˙

copyright © 2024 thinemoonshine all rights reserved

[ceilidho]

prompt: blue collar worker ghost knocking reader up in a gas station bathroom on a whim. (nsfw, 2k)

-

Just to look over at him on the driver’s side drives you crazy.  

His buzz cut uncovered by a hood or balaclava is the new normal. It makes your blood rush to think of dragging your fingers across it, never long enough to really grip; heats you up faster than sitting by a fire or plunging into warm water. It’s the same new normal as the bristly, naked skin of his jaw, which flexes under scrutiny. He hadn’t gotten around to shaving earlier—rarely does these days as long as he can keep to a five o’clock shadow—and it makes you shiver when you think of the raw tenderness on your inner thighs, a consequence of that decision. 

These are the consequences of trust and loyalty. Not long ago, you wouldn’t have expected more than a glimpse of dark eyes behind a mask. 

The window is cracked open just enough to let the smoke from his cigarette out. Black fingerless gloves, nails bare and trimmed, dirt and ink trapped always in the grooves of his fingers. Eyes heavy lidded as always from poor sleep, shot nerves the takeaway from an old life of brittle thin sleep. His cortisol levels, to this day, must ride high in the bloodstream. You’d give anything to ease it at a touch, but that’s not how things work. 

“Keep lookin’ at me like that and we’re gonna have a problem,” Simon says when you glance over at him for the fifth time in as many minutes. 

“A problem?” you repeat. You’re not trying to be coy—you’re really not—but it comes out that way regardless. A bit breathlessly too, you realize with a small degree of embarrassment. You’ve got no shame these days. 

He grunts instead of answering. Your fists close over your thighs as you dry to concentrate on the road ahead of you instead of the persistent ache between your thighs. It’s not his fault that your pussy picked now of all times to get desperate. 

You peer over at him again out of the corner of your eye. 

“Bird,” he growls. Doesn’t even have to look over at you to know that you’re staring. Just another weird six sense from another life. It’s a warning though, one you hear loud and clear. 

“I didn’t say anything,” you say in a huff, turning your head fully away from him now to stare out the window. 

Only a handful of minutes tick by with you watching the brown patches of grass and the trees lining the motorway before you shift in your seat. Acutely aware of the wet spot between your legs, the way Simon’s fingers curl over the steering wheel loosely when he drives one handed, the smell of smoke on the upholstery, the grimy spots on the windshield where the wipers don’t reach, the moment he shifts and the weight of him makes the leather squeak. 

You peek over at him again.

He doesn’t bother signalling before veering into the rightmost lane, ignoring the furious honking from the car right behind you. You yelp when he takes the exit at a breakneck speed, fingers gripping the underside of your seat before whipping your head around to glare at him. 

“What’s the matter with you?” you scream, spine stiff from the sudden lane change. 

Simon doesn’t answer you, but you notice that the exit leads to a rest stop just off the motorway. It’s one of the less frequented ones—just a cluster of fast food restaurants and a gas station. He pulls into a parking space and practically slams on the brakes, making you jerk forward in your seat. Simon’s never been the most cautious driver, but this is a whole new level for him.

“Simon—Simon, what are you doing—” you hiss through clenched teeth, but he’s already up and out of the car, circling around to your side. 

Your heart goes hummingbird quick in your chest, stomach in knots. When you pant out a breath, it comes out shaky with nerves and excitement. You toy with the idea of pressing down on the child lock when he comes around but think the better of it. There’s already a twitch in his eye. 

You look up at him through your lashes when he opens the door and leans in to release your seatbelt. 

“Get out,” he orders, and yanks you out before you can reply. 

The walk to the gas station is tense and you struggle to keep up with him. He walks too fast and expects you to keep up, growling down at you to move it, but you drag your feet a little. It’s shameful how even that gets you worked up. 

“Are we gonna—?” you ask breathlessly, irritation seeping out of you. Simon doesn’t answer, just tightens his hand around your wrist. 

A chime above the door jingles when the two of you walk in, heading straight for the back. You catch the attendant staring at the two of you with open contempt and give a tight, embarrassed smile back. Simon doesn’t so much as glance over. You think he’d let the man call the cops if it came down to it. 

The gas station bathroom is one of the crummier bathrooms you’ve ever been in, but you hardly register that with how Simon hauls you up against the door he just slammed shut and kisses you within an inch of your life. His kisses are ever slick and wet, dangerous for you—drugging when he drags his tongue over yours and a hand cups your head to angle it just right. You want to give as good as you get, but it’s easy to let yourself get swept away and open your mouth to let him in because you feel his hunger. 

“That cunt never gets tired of me, does she?” Simon mumbles into your mouth. He steals your words from you when he slots his lips over yours again. Only gives you enough space to drag in a sharp breath. 

It’s in your best interest. The only words available to you are pathetic little pleas, desperate fingers digging into his jacket and trying to pull it off so you can feel the muscle underneath. Trying to get as close as possible to him, to wrap yourself around him. A needy, pitiful thing. 

“Poor thing,” he sighs, pulling away from your mouth and laughing when your lips chase after him. Standing up on your tiptoes to kiss him again and kiss, hands tugging him down by the back of his neck. “So horny that you nearly made me crash the fuckin’ car.”

“Couldn’t wait,” you whine, peppering his neck with kisses when he draws up to his full height, nearly dizzy now. “Sorrysorrysorry, please—please fuck me, Simon—please—”

“Not here, bird—want you to see how desperate you look.”

He drags you over to the other side of the bathroom and makes you stand on his boots and face the mirror covered in lipstick and sharpie and god knows what else—“c’mon, up you get”—while he rucks up your dress. The stark contrast between the two of you in the mirror makes you baulk. Like you haven’t slept with him before and lived to tell the tale. He’s all dark clothing and mountains for shoulders, mouth always set in a flat line of impatience that would make anyone else turn the other way. 

You, however, press yourself back into him. 

Rough fingers tug your panties to the side, not bothering to check if you’re wet. Assuming that you are—that you always are with him, eager to cant your hips and offer yourself up to him.

You try not to think about how your pelvis is already tilted towards him.

Simon holds your head up with a single hand under your chin, squishing your cheeks a little. “Fuckin’ hell…look at that,” he rasps, eyes almost black with lust. 

“You’re being mean,” you whine, pushing back against him and wiggling your hips. 

“Doesn’t matter how many times I give it to you—always whining for it. Cock hungry bird.”

It would hurt if you didn’t already know how much he wants you too, the deep rasp in his voice betraying an aching, insatiable hunger. An arm locks like a bar across your chest to hold you in place, his hand fitting over a breast just to have something to hold. He can tell you again and again that it’s just you, but you know that he wants it just as badly as you do. 

He reaches around to undo his pants and then you feel a familiar cock bully its way into you, a tight fit only eased by the wetness almost glistening on your inner thighs. He grunts when his cock pushes into you, the same hand reaching around to rest low on your stomach, pinkie brushing the top of your mound. 

The first thrust jostles you, forces your palms to slam down on the mirror even though the arm across your chest keeps you tight to his chest. It’s sticky under your fingers. You wince when you think of how much Purell you’ll need after this, but the thought melts away when he pulls his cock almost all the way out of you before slamming back in. 

“Yes, yes—fuck—” you gasp, staring at your reflection in the mirror. After a couple hours on the road, you’re not exactly in tiptop shape—sweaty and in need of a shower and coffee—but any timidity evaporates under Simon’s hot gaze. It eats you up. 

His jaw flexes with each thrust, eyes flitting between your tits bouncing under your dress and your face until it stays there, devouring you in a single heated look. Every time your shoes almost slip off his boots, he pulls you tighter into his chest; you couldn’t get out of his hold even if you wanted to. The thought makes the blood rush through your ears. 

“Almost need someone else jus’ to take care of you when I’m not around,” Simon growls. He gives your breast a rough squeeze, an admonishment. 

“No—no one else—” 

“Jus’ me then, pet? No one else can take care of this little cunt?”

You shake your head, maybe nod, maybe sob a bit. It’s hard to tell. The hand on your low belly grips into the flesh, holding you in place while he rails you over the sink. Impossible to look away from the man towering over you, a man you’ve let willingly bend you over and get between your thighs. You wouldn’t even if you could. He’s the summation of everything you’ve ever hoped for, packaged in the too big body of a gun for hire, riddled with nerve damage and a nasty temper. You wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world.

Your eyes slip shut.

“Tell you what,” he breathes into your ear, the burr of his stubble rubbing your neck raw. “I’ll give you somethin’ else to keep you busy.” 

Your eyes spring wide open.

He shifts his stance and drives into you with renewed vigour, muffling your sounds with a hand over your mouth. The mirror fogs up through the gaps between his fingers, the room damper and stickier now than when you entered it. Tears build in the corners of your eyes. 

When he goes quiet, you know what’s about to happen. Your toes curl in your shoes when he exhales a ragged breath, gritting his teeth when he meets your eyes again in the mirror. Something about his gaze alone makes you come, like a deep press into your soul. The fat cock stretching you out is just a bonus. 

The come down is harsh, laboured breaths panting out of you until your chest finally settles, until it feels safe enough to move. You lower one foot from on top of his boot just for Simon’s arms to constrict even more, holding you fast to his chest. He can probably feel your heartbeat against his wrist. 

“Quit squirming,” he scolds, giving you a little warning squeeze.

“‘M sweaty,” you complain.

“We’ll towel off at home,” Simon says, rolling his eyes. “Don’t bitch.”

“I’m not bitching, I’m hot—” 

He lets you carp and moan about your inner thighs being covered in beard burn and come while straightening out your dress, pulling your panties back into place. He’s quicker with himself, doesn’t even bother grabbing a paper towel to wipe himself off before shoving his cock back into his pants and zipping up. When you ask him to hand you one, the look he gives you scorches you right to the bone. 

“Wait ‘till we get home,” he says, hand on your back when he unlocks the bathroom door.

“Like you aren’t gonna do it all over again the second we get there,” you mutter.

His smirk isn’t smug, but it’s a near thing.

[assassin-artist]

Eleanor Grayson's hero outfits, part 1. I'd like to make a lineup of a handful of alternate universe variants, but for now here's her normal fits and 1 AU (:

Extra information about each of them (and her in general) under the cut:

Suit 1 - Nolan took Ellie and Mark both to Art's shop to get their first hero suits after their powers emerge, and of course them being twins means Art wanted to make them matching suits - knee high boots, fingerless gloves, the same goggle mask and everything. Considering the public knew that Omni-Man and Invincible were father and son, I think they'd also know that Invincible and Mercy were twins, so their similar suits were like marketing to their image as the duo heroes. The white line on her chest is a stylized "M" for her hero name, Mercy. Eleanor does NOT like the skintight suit, she gets self-conscious about it, but she thinks there's no avoiding it (since so many heroes wear them) so she doesn't bring up how uncomfortable it makes her. When she goes home she throws on a random jacket from her closet - it was not made to be part of a hero uniform, so it's getting torn apart like 5 seconds into any battle. Very funny mental image of Eleanor going to a normal clothing shop and bulk buying like 20 of the same exact jacket bc once she wore it for the first time she went "welp it's part of my image now, I have to keep wearing it".

Ellie and Mark at this point are inseparable. They're the typical close twins who do everything together, growing up sharing everything and doing all the same after school activities and such. Them getting their powers at roughly the same time (Ellie got hers first but only by, like, a week maybe) just made them closer, as they delve into the world of being a hero together with their loving father (:

Suit 2 - Art probably sees her jacket addition when she's on the news with Invincible, and he immediately goes "hey, wait a sec..." so she comes clean about how uncomfortable the tights make her. He wishes she'd told him the first time, but he takes it in stride and makes her a new suit right away with a skirt at her request. He thinks about adding a jacket to it too, but at that point she kind of got used to not having it (since the normal jacket broke so often) so she said it was fine actually. The skirt addition was pretty much immediate, so it wasn't too big of a shift from suit 1 to suit 2.

Ellie moves out of the house at this point (thanks to a nice GDA paycheck. She wanted to move out ASAP because she can't stand being in the house that reminds her of her father, as opposed to Mark staying to support their mother). Her and Mark's relationship is a bit strained from general hero troubles and of course the trauma of their father's leaving, but mostly they're still pretty close so they still market themselves as the twin heroes, fighting together and generally being inseparable to the public eye.

Suit 3 - her current outfit as of season 3 of the show. A lot of shit happens in between suit 2 and suit 3, and Mark and Ellie wind up separating. Firstly because of their strong disagreement about their father - Mark went to Thraxa alone (Ellie chose to stay on Earth while he left) and came back with the mentality that their father is changed man who needs their help. Ellie, however, heard that the Viltrumites took him away to be executed, and only says "Good". She can never forgive him, and it stresses out their relationship. Secondly, while both of the twins were horrified about finding D.A. and Darkwing in Cecil's payroll, Ellie decided that it wasn't a dealbreaker for her. She opposed it the same as Mark did, but she still thinks that working for Cecil is the best way for her to be where she needs to be to help people and save the world. This decision tears the twins apart almost completely. At this point, they both get outfit changes - Mark keeps his suit design but changes the colors (which are ironically black and blue like Mercy's original suit colors), while Ellie decides to completely overhaul her uniform entirely. New design, new jacket, new color scheme. Neither of them want to be associated with each other anymore, so they avoid the "twin heroes" moniker at this point. Also I like the red on the underside of her gloves and her boots because it looks like blood. Her bloody path, her bloody hands.

My friend chose this color scheme for me, and I just wanna say the colors are picked from show Cecil's outfit (: to showcase her being a loyal GDA agent at this point even after what she learns about him. The red line going down her jacket is meant to represent Cecil's red tie.. heh.... I like Cecil a lot, sorry I had to give her a suit based off of him lmfao

"Bad End" AU Suit - just want to make it clear, this is an AU and not her canon future. Ellie's love of Earth and humanity is her most defining character trait. She'll do anything she thinks is necessary to protect them - which is one of the biggest reasons that she's still willing to work with Cecil after the reveal, because she understands that sometimes you need to do bad things to save as many people as possible. In this AU, shortly after the Invincible War, she looks around at all the death and destruction and realizes there's no point in fighting against the Viltrumites. She comes to the conclusion that there's no way to win against them - that the only way to save the planet and people she loves is to join them and plead for their survival from the inside of the empire. Mark, exhausted and angry and full of the typical Viltrumite violent temper after the war, can't even bring himself to hold back against the betrayal from his own sister. They fight for a while, equally matched, before Ellie realizes their fight is just bringing more pain and destruction to the world that she's trying to save. So she leaves the planet to join the Empire, but not before Mark manages to give her a very nasty face wound that'll leave her with a permanent reminder of what she chose to do.

She's too attached to her 3rd suit because it's a reminder of what she was trying to protect, so she refuses to wear the typical Viltrumite uniform. Since there's some variation in their uniforms anyway, I think they'd be fine with the suit as long as she wore it in the Viltrum Empire colors, so she has it remade with the colors and symbol.

The next time BE!Mercy sees Cecil, he calls her a traitor to her own people - but she just frowns and says "Aren't we doing the same thing? Making a deal with the devil to save this world?"

She learned it from him, after all.

[booliuu]

˗ˏˋToby Headcanons..PT2ˎˊ˗

ꪆৎ 𝙰/𝙽 : this is a continuation of my first headcanons oh him. Here’s the * link* if you haven’t check it out yet, btw thanks for almost 50 likes😭😭 you guys are so sweet!! anyways enjoy of me rambling about this man again :DD🫶🏼

• my inbox is open for ask and requests!!

* pictures i’m using: pinterest 🫶🏼

🪓 . . He’s a taurus baaabies ( b-day April 28th! mark your calendars right now !!) .. may i add something too👉👈 i just know in the bottom of my heart my man def has a sagittarius moon placement or lots of fire signs placements in his birth chart. SCORPIO VENUS TOO 👀👀 he loves so intenselyyy. okok anyways-

🪓 . . He has so many piercings!! I can definitely say on his face he has a septum , nostril , bridge ,and a snake bite 😮‍💨. And for his ears he has industrial, lobes ( thought about stretching his lobes but is too scared lol) and conches done.

➯ went a bit crazy with his piercing bc his parents were so against him getting them done during his high school years. But now that he’s an adult he goes all out.

➯ takes great care of them too! ^^

🪓 . . wears fingerless gloves to mange with his rlly bad hand picking habit. doesn’t have nails bc how bad his habits are :((. the goggles he wears protects his eyes . also wears a restraining mask, it stops him from bitting his hands , nails and….ppl i dare say ifykyk.

🪓 . . Owns a lot of graphic tee’s and most of them are bands that he never heard of before lmao same🥲. Whatever shirt he’s wearing that day , a creep or random ppl ask him what’s his favorite song or album is , he gets all awkward and he’s stands like an idiot like🧍.

➯ all sorts of baggy and ripped jeans as well ! Not a fan of tight clothes. Absolutely despises them.

🪓 . . has LOTS of scars that goes all the way back from his childhood.

🪓 . . Him & Tim before DID NOT get along at all. MAJOR BEEF WITH EACH OTHER 😭. whenever both of them were assigned on missions together, they ALWAYS be arguing about the littlest things.

* this is looong sorry ><i just love the idea that tim cares for toby. so bare with meee🥹🥹

➯ Mainly because tim behavior rubs toby the wrong way. It reminds him of his father in some ways and gets highly defensive whenever tim tells him what to do or criticizes him.

➯ Tim thinks toby as a ruthless teenager ( even though he clearly knows he an adult.) thinks he needs to be told what to do at all times . Even though he a rough exterior … little does toby know he cares about him a lot. But of course there both to stubborn as hell to tell each that 😑.

➯ until one day toby accidentally let a victim loose. when tim found out , he got extremely upset at toby. The yelling definitely brought Toby thoughts of his father, as a defense mechanism toby argued back . Got a bit physical but overall LOTS of yelling, brian ( the savior-) had to step in and tell them to get over it and be nice to each for once.

➯ took a WHILE for them to apologize but they did eventually. was a bit awkward but hey at least there over it :,D . Now of days they almost have a father and son dynamic. Sometimes when both of have free time tim will show toby how to fix up a car, how to cook on a grill , yk bonding.

➯ brings Toby lots of nostalgia and confusion because he never treated like this by a man before bc the only nice people he was surrounded by in his whole life was just his mom and his sister . so surely his inner child is slowly healing. when he actually took a chance and thought about tim’s behavior towards him one night, he had to sit down for bit , beer in hand ( definitely not given by tim-) cry for a bit while tim rubs his back in comforting way while smoking a cigarette ofc.

🪓 . . owns torn up converse and doc martens. TONS of hoodies, leather jackets and winter jackets!

🪓 . . HIS ROOM!! oh good god…it’s so unorganized. mostly because his collection of clothes he picked up over the years that he “borrowed” TvT iykyk… never bothers to clean it. his own words not mine

Toby: “ it’s my man c-cave. my rules.”

Tim: *SIGHS* “ jesus fucking christ….. your a mess.”

🪓 . . Speaking of his room it has lots of band posters and tapestry’s!

🪓 . . Knows so much animals facts.. it’s actually scary but entertaining.he literally bring up in random ways possible. that’s toby for yea..!! :DD

🪓 . . His favorite animals consists of what’s around him in the slender forest. such deers, raccoons, fox & wolf , birds , bears and has a love for reptiles as well.

🪓 . . lol if your scared of bugs i feel sorry for you , reptiles or just any animals i have listed…he’s definitely the type of friend that has it cupped in his hand and shoving it in your face. Lives for your reaction. 🩷

🪓 . . a bit awkward and has a cold front when you first meet him. he likes to observe, doesn’t trust ppl easily. If he likes you, he eventually slowly open up his shell and he shows his true colors such being a little shit, teasing you playful ofc, butting head with you 24/7. eeehh..but if he hates you good luck with this one… he make it known he doesn’t like you . you won’t know but others who know him do.

🪓 . . Growing up he was known for being the shy quiet kid that never speaks up for himself. He thinks about it now and really started changing meaning slowly and eventually he became more confident. like throwing sarcastic comments , knows lots of good clap backs or calling out’s if someone offended him or something. he’s changed man guys nothing like his younger self. proud of him 🥹

🪓 . . I see ppl saying that he’s the kind of friend that wants to be around you 24/7. 100% agree 👍 . yk hanging out in yours or his rooms for like smoke breaks, joining you during missions, watching tiktok’s & sending them to you even though your in the same room as he is , or even just simply pure silent and just basking in each others presence.

Toby: t-t-this is so you…

Toby: * sents you a tiktok*

You: bruh wtfff

* cue him laughing his ass off

🪓 . . Going to the local drug store to grab some slushes and junk food. HE LIVES FOR THOSE HANGS OUTS. TELL ME IM WRONG.

› › › i’ll make sure to be more in depth with this one :3 so be in a look out for some platonic toby headcanons in the future!!! ^^

🪓 . . Everytime someone says toby loves waffles sighs…. man i’m telling you right now an angel loses it wings ☹️ 👎. He has extended food palette than that y’all c’mon.

🪓 . . i mean it’s not the best diet… it literally just energy drinks but at least his friends look out for him and leave him take out because they know he doesn’t feel hunger like we do.

🪓 . . due to that, he has a lean built. Has a bit of a 6 pack ( you have to squint to see em ) and has muscles on his arms . He’s really proud of his arms lol. Has a bit of beard?? Scruff?? idk what’s it’s called going on too ^^ shaves ones in a while. aaaand..hehe has a happy trail situation... ANYWAYSSSS that’s for next time 😉.

🪓 . . yk how how i said he has a collection of phones he… collected *cough🪓🪓 cough*… firm believer he has playlist in each phone of them that consists of western emo music. also.. DAD ROCK .

🪓 . . his favorite weather has to be autumn because the animals around forest comes out more and he hangs out and pets all of them. likes looking at the trees and how each of the leaves are changing colors.

🪓 . . his joints pop loud real bad whenever he stretching , walking , or running . it pisses him so badly lolll.

🪓 . . loves sleeping and taking naps🫶🏼 whenever or whatever. like tree tops , his bed, closet, ect. hates mornings with passion prefers to sleep in. toby 🤞power naps . downside being that he snores like no one business and moves around his sleep.

🪓 . . blind on his left eye and that same eye has a permanent split eyebrow from the car crash.

🪓 . . Even though i want say he smells like vanilla or something sweet naaah …. srry bby😔. he gotta smell like the woods , dirt, bl*od.. sometimes , or even pinewood. From time to time smells like cheap shampoo and conditioner when he remembers to shower.

🪓 . . lastly his hair.. HIS 👏HAIR 😭😭 it’s so soft…he’s rocking shaggy haircut that tim trims once in a while.

𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚜: @bloodibambiidol & @kodaswrld ✨ there stuff is cool check it out!

ꪆৎ 𝙰/𝙽 : HEEEEY IM BACK, i know posted 2-3?? days ago and honestly im so happy to it has so many likes already. thank you so much 🫶🏼 it means so much to me!! i’ll try to post as consistent as i can but no promises.😣As of right now my wips are a bunch of toby headcanons and one shots i need to finish and post and dw other characters too dww🤍🤍.

* if you like my content please don’t forget to like , reblog , and comment ^^.

liuuboo2025 ♡ﾟ

[denim-devil]

Bad To The Bone - Week 1 | Mirror Fucking/Hair pulling

Summary - When hearts collide, Billy chooses to chase after the longing thoughts that have only you in the midsts of them all, the biggest halloween party ever hosted in the small town of Hawkins was his best bet to finally entice those very thoughts…

Pairings - Bully!Billy Hargrove x M!Reader

The cigarette hung loosely from his lips as he stalked the crowded room, his eyes lingering on the current sight before him. Steve’s hands were far to close for his liking, lightly grabbing at your swaying hips.

What had felt like an eternity, Billy slowly crept toward the two of you, anger and malice ran through his veins like the blood circulating his body had done, bubbling up, growing closer to a boiling point.

Steve’s lips felt warm against the crook of your neck, his teeth nibbling gently against the dampness. Although under the influence, you had no desire to stop him, not after the end of your mid-night rendezvous with the current king and bully of Hawkins High.

A slight shove had forced the ridiculed Steve into the wall beside the two of you, a harsh bang sounding out into the room, even with the noisy crowd of teenage students and the humming beats of madonna…it was loud.

“Watch it asshole-“

Steve ushered out with a hiss. As if time itself was a concept, you stood, frozen. Billy stood with a proud smirk, his black, slightly damp leather jacket was hung open, showcasing the toned physique you were once frequented with.

“Watch what? I didn’t do anything”

Billy tuts, his eyes flicking over to you, looking you up and down like he would his next meal, like a dangerous predator to it’s prey. A certain ache began to pool between your legs, what were once pale, your cheeks were now a deep shade of crimson, taking note of Billy’s looming figure.

“Oh yeah? You wanna bet?”

Taking a puff of his cigarette, it goes back to laying loose between a shit-eaten grin, his tongue flicking over the orange tip. Billy had no time for games, nor Steve’s bullshit, instead he opted for the obvious choice, charging toward you with his fingerless leather gloves which eagerly wrapped around your bicep, yanking you toward the stairs.

“Oh your in so much shit sweetheart”

He half growled, half whispered, even with the music blaring and the crowd going back to dancing and chatting, Billy took himself seriously, only wanting you to know what was to follow as you stumbled up behind him, leaving a confused Steve, stammering around in the very same corner.

He hadn’t bothered to look back, feeling how limp your wrist was within his grip had told him everything he needed to know, you had no fight to win, Billy had already won, more so with the dingy bathroom door flying open with a tug and a kick.

Thump, thump, thump. It rang through your ears like an alarm, heartbeat pacing like a jockey and it’s horse during a race, running quicker once the door slammed shut and the click of the lock latching away both your confidence and the thoughts of an impending escape.

He stood, flicking the cigarette bud onto the floor before raising one of his heavy boots, stomping the crisp leftovers into dust.

You watched the older male proceed to shake of his jacket, leaving him in just the denim jeans he was naturally acquainted with.

“You better think twice before ever letting Harrington touch you like that again-“

Nodding was the only beneficial answer, earning a daring smirk from the manic jock before you. His golden locks were matted yet matched the darkness now claiming the once ocean blue eyes he usually sported, his hair resting against the sweaty tan skin that covered his innards.

His steps grew closer with each thump correlating with your heartbeat, black boots treading against the tiled floor toward you until his warm breath fanned lightly across your pink-dusted cheeks.

“Billy- please, it was nothing, j-just needed something”

He tutted before pressing his body against you, pushing you further into the floral wallpapered brick behind, instantly making you feel small and defenceless.

“Save it- you need to learn a thing or two…”

Billy doesn’t think twice, he normally doesn’t before acting on said thoughts, twisting your body, roughly laying you stomach first against the counter top that faced the elongated mirror before you.

His body, warm and delectable now rolled into your arched form from behind, pushing most of his growing erection against you, forcing you to feel your own impending doom.

“You should be thanking me sweetheart, you got this cock all to yourself and you were ready to throw it away like dog shit- fuck”

You incoherently mumble a short “no” before pushing back momentarily, testing the waters. Luck had happened to be in your favour, a starving Billy, craving nothing but to ravish you groaned before pulling back.

It was easier to see this way, watching eager finger tips make quick work of his leather belt and crotch zipper, both thumbs hooking into the burgundy band of his boxers, wiggling them down slowly, past the light trimming of blonde pubes surrounding his veiny, thick base.

“Can’t stop thinking about how easily you take this dick”

Your tongue trails over your dry lips, watching as the band smoothly runs further down, catching on the moist tip before being completely removed, his cock bounces, loudly slapping into his toned abdomen, the head angry with urgency, a deep crimson in colour, he was thick from base to tip, a singular girthy vein running on the underside, splitting off just underneath the curve of his tip.

He chuckled at the reaction, watching as the same lips he used to get himself once in the janitor closet after gym class hung agape, eyes wide with earnest and adoration.

“Don’cha think Harrington would give it in so easy? Look at you, all dolled up for the wrong guy-“

You groan into the warm air of the now secluded space, the bathroom, although big felt small with the presence of Billy watching over you, his shadow looming in every corner from the dim strip light placed just above the mirror, forwarding his domineering ways.

“Billy- I got dolled up for you…”

As if words were a dagger, sharp and pointy, cutting into his skin, seeping deeper and changing his whole point of view. It was clear now, from the tight, revealing light wash jeans that hugged every spot he had both discovered and devoured more then once to the dainty leather jacket that had you looking smaller then usual, swallowing you up.

“Oh really? Fuck princess, you really know how to rile up a guy”

His fingers tips scrambled from your inner thighs upward, towards the belt loops and eventually to the knot holding you together.

Billy had made quick work with your belt and jeans, unclasping the metal before roughly pulling down the tight denim that hugged you perfectly, followed by the white briefs unveiling the very source of his affliction and desire.

His cock, thick and heavy, laid perfectly between your crack, pulsing at the very thought of being inside once again, after weeks of having blue balls, it was his forbidden truth to feel you all over again, like the first.

“Harrington could never- you really think he could fuck you the way I do? Make you feel things…”

Reaching down, a warm hand cups the base of your dick before slightly tugging, the leather cold against the warmth he was supplying. The moans that had forced themselves from deep within bubbled up into a whimper once surpassing your open lips.

His free hand managed to sneakily wrap itself within your hair, tugging harshly, you were not getting out of this, even if you had the choice.

“I won’t ask you again doll-“

You mumble a sharp, squeaky “no” once the angry tip rests softly against the puckered skin surrounding your entrance and Billy’s gateway into bliss. A few more tugs was all he offered up before removing his hand from your dribbling member, slightly patting at the pert globes you arched into him.

He chuckled cockily, his beer-soaked chest resting against your clothed back before looking up into the glass mirror. It was almost invigorating to see himself like this, to watch you wriggle with anticipation, giving in so easily, allowing Billy himself to guide you through his ecstasy, it was even better, a strangers bathroom had never brought him so much glory.

“Atta boy, come on, won’t you relax for me, let me in sweetheart…”

He slips in with ease, creating a stretch that burned like the sun, growing with each passing inch, watching as his tongue danced against your neck, how your features twisted with pain…then pleasure.

“Look at yourself-“

He settles against you before pressing his hips flush against your own, filling you up, warm and thick in your gut. Tear-stained eyes flick up to settle on his baby blues that twitched with lust, his smirk big and proud, almost intimidating.

“That’s it- that’s my pretty boy, such a sweet thing for me, all for me”

He panted before pulling completely back with an audible pop, watching his cock bob, he ushered himself back in to the hilt with a loud slap, this was something Billy would never forget, clearly.

“Keep your eyes on me princess-“

You did, watching him roll his hips, feeling each inch slip and slide against your velvet walls, his tip edging it’s way back and forth, watching your eyes roll back in ecstasy.

“Bill- Billy, please-“

You gasp before he presses fully forward, pushing against your pleasure spot and watching you gasp, tongue licking at dry lips. Once again you find his eyes, blushing at the wet laps he gives your neck.

“You’ll think twice next time hmm?”…

[rivvyribbons]

have some of the step 4 qiu design predictions i doodled!! yapping down below

okay okay so!! i think in terms of fashion, qiu would stay somewhat similar maybe? experimenting with different styles here and there but like.. i think i can only pry away that puffer jacket from their cold dead hands

their fashion is pretty consistent over all, actually!! dark jeans + sweater (in step 2 + step three, its a white sweater with a pattern thrown on) and that bomber jacket once more

i think the factor of their appearance that they experiment with the most is with their accessories and hair!!

their hair is very, very important to them. in all steps, it's never goes above their jaw. and in step 3, it even goes somewhat down to their stomach!! most of their hairstyles however are very low effort, something you can do quickly (high pony, low pony, half up half down)

i imagine in step 4, they'd try to change it up with something that takes a little more time. maybe pins, claw clips (inspired by this). i think it wouldn't be too far to say that maybe they'd dye it a lighter color, or add some highlights!!

honestly, their accessories seem pretty consistent too. fingerless gloves, chokers / necklaces, earrings! maybe they would borrow some of their mom's jewelries (she's seen wearing rings and earrings!!) her accessories are gold, which is nice because its their favourite, but i can see them leaning towards silver jewelry as time goes on!!

i can also imagine that they would try out riding a motorbike instead of their usual bike (inspired by this). black or grey helmet with accents of gold!! it just makes sense to me -- its a way for them to clear their mind without having to use their phone and its something they can do alone!

although gold is their favourite color, i thought it'd make more sense to add it little by little instead of putting it everywhere. less is more yadda yadda

i wanted to do tammy in the same post but honestly she is not as predictable as qiu </3 but i love her and i will struggle for her

[antonymphdraws]

Finn Headcanons

(Because he’s such silly little goober and I love him :3)

- In terms of headcanon design/design tweaks. He has Vaporeon-styled ear fins and tail, wears a black short sleeved shirt underneath his life vest. Brown shorts, orange boots, and black fingerless gloves. He also has a zipper on his vest, dark blue freckles on his cheeks, and he’s chubby like Dandy.

- Despite being made of glass, Finn is actually pretty strong since he likes to go fishing. And that’s not something that’s easy to do without at least a bit of arm strength

- Finn is a reverse pescatarian, meaning he’ll eat anything BUT fish. But veggies, fruit, any other meat, eggs, carbs, etc are fair game for him.

- I mentioned this on separate post but the water in Finn’s head will start to boil if he’s angry or very flustered. Like “red in the face” levels of angry/flustered. Same goes for other Toons with liquid in their head such as Teagan. He doesn’t like when this happens since he’s essentially cooking Barnaby Willikers (even if he’s a toy fish and not a real one.)

- Finn has a great singing voice! Due to being essentially half-siren (which is why he has the tail and fins). However he usually sings alone, usually when he’s bathing or out fishing. Not that he wouldn’t like to sing in front of others, he just prefers to do it when there is no one to tell jokes to (except Barnaby).

- His singing voice does NOT have the ability to hypnotize others however. But sea creatures are naturally drawn to it. Helps with fishing.

- Finn’s physical state is dependent on how much water is in his bowl and what kind of liquid is in it. If his bowl is half full, then he becomes a little lightheaded but otherwise fine. If his bowl his completely empty, he will become very woozy and tired. If he’s filled with soda, coffee, or juice then he becomes hyperactive and cannot sleep.

- If he’s filled with a warm liquid like soup or hot cocoa then he becomes relaxed and a little sleepy. Except for coffee of course.

- Finn is usually cool to the touch, but that change depending on the the temperature of the liquid that’s in him.

- While it’s rare for it to happen, Finn can get “stress fractures” on his head if he’s well, stressed. Thankfully they go away once he’s more relaxed.

Might add more to this via reblogs should I have more ideas.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 51

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,290ish

Summary: Your group goes to fight Cassandra.

Notes: Here we go! Please share reactions! Please remember to review the timeline posted here.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

You woke up to Laura cuddled close. Your body was achy, but not as much as your heart. After pressing a kiss to Laura’s head, you slipped out of bed and headed outside. The fresh morning air was crisp against your achy body and the sun was barely revealing itself. You took a deep breath as you tried to wrap your mind around yesterday. A version of Logan had just entered your life and a version of your long dead teammate Wade as well. How were you suppose to deal with this? 

The sight of smoke near the fire pit area caught your attention. You slowly walked over. Your heart clenched as you realized who was knocked out on the log. Logan was sprawled out on the log, one of his arms dangling over the side, still gripping onto a bottle of alcohol. You were honestly confused as to how he could still be on the log. Taking a step forward, you froze as a branch snapped beneath your foot. 

Logan shot up from the log, claws out, as his eyes frantically searched his surroundings. His gaze eventually fell on you and he too froze. You were tense, looking at Logan like you were a child who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Realizing that his claws were out, Logan quickly hid them, hanging his hands by his sides.

“Sorry,” both of you said at the same time.

The tension was thick, both of you could feel it. Your arms wrapped around you as you took a step back, looking down at the ground. It was harder than you thought to look at him and not have him looking back at you the way that your Logan always had.

“Sorry,” you mumbled again. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s fine,” he responded. 

A bout of silence grew between the two of you. Neither of you were able to look at each other in the eye. Logan could hear how your heartbeat was picking up, signaling how nervous you were. He clenched his fists harder to try to calm his own nerves.

“Are you… uh, are you fighting today?” He wondered.

“Yes. Cassandra may have something that will get us home,” you replied. “And I can’t let Laura fight without me.” Logan nodded, letting your answer sink in. “Are you fighting with us?”

“No… Or I wasn’t,” he shook his head. “It’s suicide.”

You shrugged. “A lot of missions are… but I’d rather die fighting.” With a twist of your hand, you relit the fire.

Logan’s brows furrowed when you winced as your hands cooled down. He stepped forward. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. It’s just… weird. Seeing you or not you or I really don’t know.” You shook your head

“I understand.”

“Was there a me in your universe?”

“Yes.”

“And is she…?”

“She’s dead.”

“Oh. I’m sorry… My husband—you—my version of you is dead, too.”

“I heard. It’s the reason Wade came looking for me.” 

Your head tilted in curiosity. “Why?”

Logan sighed, shaking his head. “Ain’t my story.”

“Mom?” You heard Laura call in the distance. “Mom!”

“I should go,” you took a few more steps back, “before Laura gets too worried.” You turned around but before you could get yourself to move, you looked back. “Take care of yourself, Logan.”

Logan’s mouth opened to say something but his mind wouldn’t let him. Instead, he watched you walk away. Was he really going to let you fight again without him trying to protect him? No, you weren’t his version of you, but you were a version. And he knew that he definitely would not forgive himself if you died and he could have prevented it.

~~~

“So, Buttercup,” Wade slipped next to you as you pulled fingerless compression gloves over your hands, “I have to tell you that your husbands’ claws are still extremely useful.”

Your head snapped towards Wade. “What?” 

“Yeah. I dug him up and had to use his sturdy bones to fight off some TVA agents.”

“You did what with my husband’s body?” Your hands formed fists which quickly went up in flames as you took a step towards Wade.

“Hey! Look! Your flames! They are even more spectacular in person, you know? And they—“

Wade didn’t have the chance to finish the thought before you blasted him against the wall with fire.

“Mom!” Laura exclaimed, rushing towards you. “Mom, stop! You can’t—“

“He dug your father up,” your tone was low. A warning. Something that Laura had rarely ever heard. “He used his bones as a weapon.”

Laura’s eyes widened as she looked between Wade and you. She was conflicted. Wade deserved what you wanted to do to him, but Laura couldn’t risk you wearing yourself out already.

“He’s not worth your energy right now,” Laura said, reaching for your arms.

“If it helps, I grabbed these,” Wade offered, pulling out two sets of dog tags from his suit. “I promise I didn’t put them anywhere inappropriate—“

You marched over and ripped them out of his grip. “Don’t think you’re off the hook for this, Wilson,” you threatened. “I will burn you alive.”

“Oh!” He clapped excitedly. “Can’t wait!”

~~~

You were smushed between Gambit and Laura in the middle row of the Honda Odyssey. Elektra was driving with Deadpool beside her and Blade in the back row. Your hand was firmly grasped around the dog tags you had taken back from Wade. The Honda Odyssey sped towards Cassandra’s base that was closed off.

“Ooh! Look at that there!” Gambit exclaimed. “You see them bigger hands come closed. Ain’t not a wanna gettin’ up inside there.”

“Gun!” Blade ordered as he stood up behind you and threw the opening on the roof.

You and Gambit lifted the gun up to Blade, who took it and aimed it at Cassandra’s base.

“Where’s he get that little beauty?” Deadpool wondered.

“That’s Punisher’s AT4,” Elektra explained.

“Which Punisher? There’s been, like, five of them.”

“There’s only been one Blade,” Blade commented, “and there’s only ever gonna be one Blade.”

Blade fired the weapon. It hit the large, closed skeleton hands, causing an explosion. Elektra sped the van up. When the van neared the fire, you prevented it from doing any harm to your group. As soon as the van was past it, you enlarged the flames, blocking everyone inside of the base. Elektra threw the van into park, bringing it to a screeching halt. 

Cassandra’s minions aimed their weapons at your group as you all exited the van. Deadpool and Gambit stood in front with Elektra, Blade, Laura, and then yourself. The van’s trunk opening caught all of your attentions. Turning to look, you saw Logan exit the van, having been hiding back there. Logan’s eyes met Laura’s first, who gave him a small smile before they flickered to yours. You were surprised to see him. He gave you a small nod before standing beside you.

“Ooh, this is gonna be good,” Blade commented.

“You know how long I’ve been waiting for this?” Gambit added. “Whoo! I’m about to make a name for myself here.”

“I don’t think you guys walk away from this,” Logan said, sparing another glance at you.

“You just make sure people know what happened here today. And when you get out of here, you have a drink for me, yeah?”

“You just stay on our six and get inside,” Blade ordered, moving to the front. You, Laura, and Elektra moved with him. “We’ll make sure you get the package.”

“And we’ll get our ending,” add Elektra.

You reached over and gave Laura’s hand a squeeze before making flames out of your fists. Laura slipped on her old purple glasses. Logan watched the interaction with a pang of jealousy. Your Logan was a lucky man, to have a wife and daughter who stick together no matter what. Too bad that this Logan believed he had ruined his chances of that long ago. 

You took a deep breath as you stared at Juggernaut, who was front and center, leading Cassandra’s minions. Everyone readied their weapons and Cassandra’s minions charged. The five of you took the front lines while Logan and Wade remained behind you. As Logan caught glimpses of you fighting, he began to realize how much he really couldn’t afford to lose another one of you. Not because of him. He stuck behind you, defending you from those trying to take you out. You knew that Logan was sticking close to you, so you made sure to try harder to defend him. Pushing aside the pain that was gradually getting worse, you continued to fight, using your fire to end people before they had the chance to get too close.

Eventually, you broke through Cassandra’s defenses. Logan and Wade rushed further into the base while the rest of you lined up in front of the opening. You still needed to get Juggernaut’s helmet and fast.

Meanwhile, inside the base, Logan and Wade found Cassandra lounging on her throne, drinking tea.

“You two escaping, I could live with,” she said as the two men came closer. “But coming back? Willingly?” She chuckled. “Boys are so silly.”

“I just need to get home,” Wade said.

“Well, that’s not on the menu, I’m afraid.” She set down her tea. “It’s death or enslavement. A la carte, of course.” She stood up and used her powers to throw Wade up against the ceiling. “Upsy-daisy.” She threw him back down, twisted him around, before tossing him against one of the side walls. “Finally, it’s nice to give someone else a chance to talk.” She moved closer to Logan.

“Not my strong suit,” he responded. 

Logan’s claws extended and he tried to throw a punch, only to be stopped. Cassandra forced his claws into his thighs before forcing him to the ground, keeping his claws in the floorboards. He grunted and groaned as he tried to free himself, but it was no use.

“Now,” Cassandra crouched in front of Logan, “we just need your counterpart.”

She smirked as Logan continued straining against her hold. Walking over to the eye holes that allowed her to see the fight, Cassandra caught sight of you. With a quick movement, she had you tangled up in netting and flying up to her.

“No! Mom!” Laura shouted.

You were about to set the netting on fire when you gasped. You could feel Cassandra in your mind, preventing you from doing anything. She threw you harshly in front of Logan, who was growing angrier. 

“There we go,” Cassandra commented, “much better.” She knelt down between the two of you. “You both are very interesting. Deadpools are a dime a dozen here in the The Void. But the two of you… Are extremely rare.” Her long fingers moved to caress your face.

“Don’t touch her!” Logan barked.

“Interesting. She’s not your Ember yet you are protective of her. Let’s see why, shall we?”

Cassandra pushed a finger into your forehead, causing you to scream, whilst doing the same to Logan. He screamed out, hating himself for not being able to protect you properly. Failing another one of you.

Both of your minds connected and glimpses of your Logan played out in front of you. Before you could say anything about it, your surroundings changed. You and Logan were standing in a field. The sky was grey. An endless row of stone monuments where lined near you. Slowly, you and Logan walked forward.

“Logan!” You heard an echo of a voice. Jean.

“Logan!” Another one. Charles.

“Logan!” This one had you tensing. It was your voice, though you knew it wasn’t you.

“Interesting…” Cassandra commented, her voice echoing around. “Not what I expected back here. Behind the anger.” 

Cassandra suddenly appeared from behind one of the stone monuments. Logan stopped, hand on the monument to keep himself up. You stood there, not knowing what to do.

“You’re hiding,” Cassandra continued. “From them. From all the ones you let down.” 

Logan let out a deep breath, leaning forward so his hands were on his knees. You reached out and placed a hand on his back, trying to comfort him in some way, and he collapsed to his knees.

“So much pain,” Cassandra noted.

“I walked away,” Logan stated, growing emotional. “They called after me… She called after me and I… I walked away. I always do.”

“Logan!” The voice of his you echoed around again.

“I know,” Cassandra said. She knelt beside you. Logan’s breathing increased as he looked forward, unable to look at you. “That’s not all you did. Is it? You found them. The X-Men.”

Screams sounded in the distance. You remained standing at Logan’s side, hand on his back.

“Dead,” Logan murmured. “Piled like wood… She was…” He closed his eyes and a tear rolled down his cheek. “Beast had clearly tried but she was… dead… her smoke and flames everywhere.”

“What did you do?” Cassandra asked.

“I started killing. And I couldn’t stop. I didn’t wanna stop.”

“All those bad men.”

“It’s not just the bad ones.”

“My little animal.” Cassandra’s smile had your stomach tied in knots.

“And I turned the whole world against the X-Men… Just once… I wanna be the man that Charles thought I was… That she thought I was.”

“Logan… in The Void, you can be what you are.”

“I just wanna be free.”

“I can set you free. I can silence all those voices.”

“No,” you finally spoke up. You knelt down in front of Logan and shakily took his face in your hands. “You cannot forget where you came from. You who are… Trust me. It’s not worth it.”

“Don’t listen to her.” Cassandra cut off your ability to speak and forced your hands away from Logan’s face. The area around you grew eerily silent. “I’ve got you. She’s not your Ember. You don’t need to worry about her. I’ve got you.”

“No,” Logan’s breathed out shaking his head as he looked over at Cassandra. “I got you.”

Before you knew it, Cassandra cried out in pain and you were back in Cassandra’s base. Wade had Juggernaut’s helmet on her and had her wrapped him in his limbs to keep it there as she fought. Logan pulled his claws from the floor and quickly cut through the netting you were bound in.

“Are you alright?” He asked, helping you to your feet.

You nodded, catching your breath. “I’m fine.”

“Get it off!” Cassandra grunted. 

“You’re gonna send us home, or I’m gonna twist your fucking head off,” Wade threatened. Cassandra laughed. “Why are you laughing?”

“I can’t send you home unless you get this thing off my head. And as soon as you do that, I’m going to force Y/N to boil your brains on an atomic level whilst I flick my bean to the Enya box set.” Logan took a protective step in front of you.

“There’s an Enya box set?”

“Either you kill me or I kill you. Both wonderful options. Except for the fact that I’m the only one that can help with Y/N’s fire problem.” Wade and Logan’s heads snapped in your direction.

“What?” You breathed out.

“Kill me and you are killing her.”

Logan took a step closer to you. “What is she talking about?” He asked.

You shook your head. “I’m fine,” you told him. 

But Logan’s eyes scanned your body, how tense you were compared to earlier, how you were standing in a way that kept your weight evenly distributed. How he had noticed you wincing from the simplest use of your power. There was something wrong.

“Just end this,” you said. “Get home and end this.”

“Do you want me to do it?” Wade asked Logan.

Logan stared at you for a moment, clearly weighing his options. Your determined look gave him his answer. “No,” he responded, eyes falling back on Cassandra. “I’ll do it.”

“I have her neck right here. It’s really no problem.”

“You’ll screw it up.”

“Oh, come on, Mr. PG-13, except the last one!”

A gun shot suddenly sounded from behind. Logan grabbed you and threw you to the ground, him on top of you, as the shots continued. Each bullet landing in Cassandra.

“What the fuck?!” Wade exclaimed.

You looked over at the person who was shooting, recognizing who it was. “Pyro?” You questioned.

“Hello, Ember,” he greeted. “Never thought I’d see you again. You have no idea what it’s like!” He waltzed further into the room as Logan helped you back up to your feet. “Day after day. Shovel the shit. Fetch the meats. I have spent my entire exis—“ Logan threw a punch to Pyro’s face, knocking him out.

“Not everyone gets a speech,” Logan said. His focus turned back to Wade and Cassandra, who had blood coming out of her mouth. “She’s gonna die.”

“Okay. Hey, hey,” Wade said. “If I take this helmet off, do you promise you won’t kill us?”

“Fuck!”

“I promise,” Cassandra whimpered in pain, “I will kill you first thing.”

“Oh! What are you like this?” Wade exclaimed.

“I wish I knew,” Cassandra laughed.

“Take it off,” Logan ordered.

“What?” Wade questioned.

“Take it off.”

“Why?”

“Just take it off.”

“This is our only chance to fix our shit!”

“Take it off!” Logan stepped closer. “I am wearing this suit. And that means a lot of things, but most of all… it means I’m an X-Man.” Pride swelled in your chest, now knowing how hard it was for Logan to admit that. “And I know your brother. As much as I want to fucking kill you, every bone in my body wants to fucking kill you, he would not let me stand here and watch you die! She,” he threw his arm back and pointed at you, “would not let me stand here and watch you die! Take your hands off. This is for him. This is for Charles.” 

Logan slowly removed the helmet. Cassandra was panting as she closed her eyes to feel her powers again. Wade let her go and stepped back. Her hand shot out to Wade and he covered his head.

“Hey, no, no, no!” He exclaimed. “Don’t you dare do me like Johnny!”

Cassandra lowered her arm and looked at Logan. “My brother loved you,” she said. “In every universe, he loved you.”

“He loved all of us,” Logan replied. 

“Hmm. Must be nice.”

“He would’ve loved you, too.”

“Yes, he would have,” you agreed. “So much.”

“If he knew about you… If he knew where you were, he would’ve torn a hole in the fucking universe to bring you home.”

“This is my home,” said Cassandra.

“Well, then at least let us save his.”

She looked over at Wade before stepping away from Logan. “You want to hear something crazy? An amateur magician rolled through here a while back. I killed him, of course. Wore his skin around for four days. But I found this,” she pulled a ring out from her pocket, “little trinket on his lovely fingers.”

“Strange!” Wade whispered.

Cassandra slipped the ring onto her fingers and lifted her hand up. Her other hand moved in a circle and a sparkling golden circle formed.

“What’s that?” Logan asked.

“This is your way home,” Cassandra said as the portal completed itself. “I do owe you for saving my life. But let’s keep things interesting.” She spun back around. “I’d say you have about four seconds before you’re Alioth’s food.”

The large purple cloud, Alioth, was racing towards the base.

“Haha,” Wade chuckled. “Race ya.”

You stood there as you watched Logan and Wade racing towards the circle and disappear into it.

next chapter >

[speaking-riddlish]

I've never really had much of an urge to do character redesigns, but then one day I was doodling, and kind of stumbled on a redesign for Raven, and now she's been living rent free in my head and I keep redrawing her. Here she is. I've got two variants, one with and one without the black lace cardigan I gave her.

[ID: Two nearly identical images. Bothe are a redesigned Raven Queen. She wears a form fitting sleeveless top with a flat neckline, like a tank top without the straps. It has a loose cross-mesh going from above this fabric, up to the neck and just before the shoulders. She wears a pale purple skirt with a loose ruffle that goes just past her knees. Over the skirt she wears a waist-cape like thing made of the same light gray feathers that her cannon design has on the shoulders. This garment is clapped together with the gem that her cannon design has at her neck, with a raven skull dangling from it on a chain. She wears gray leggings that fade to a darker shade closer to her ankles, and black combat boots with a slight platform. She also has black fingerless gloves. In the image on the left, she also wears a black lace cardigan, which she has positioned off her shoulders and pooling at her elbows. The image on the right does not have the cardigan. In both images, her eye makeup is toned down a little. She has double piercings on her earlobes, as well as two cartilage cuffs. While her hair is still black and purple, this version is mostly black with a few purple streaks instead of the even mix of her cannon design. The purple highlights are also a darker shade of purple. /EndID]

[drabblesandimagines]

Dove

Leon Kennedy x fem reader Thinking of making this a little series, will be a fluff, bit of a slow burn, bodyguard trope?

You aren’t sure how you’d got through the last few hours.  Everything’s a blur as you try to think back of the horror that had occurred, now you’re now sat in an unfamiliar chair in an unfamiliar office. Your right arm is in a sling, shoulder throbbing somewhat from a reset dislocation, broken fingers splintered together on the same arm, medical tape holding a wound closed on your temple, disinfectant swiped across the numerous scrapes, your body aching with developing bruises on your legs, poking out from under your dress, from the fall down the stairs – the fall that apparently ended up saving your life from the unearthly creature that had rampaged through your workplace and tore your co-workers apart.

After being treated by a DSO medic, you’d been escorted by a tall, armed to the gills, annoyingly silent man. He’d confiscated your phone, despite the fact the screen was smashed and wouldn’t turn on, and taken you across the city to the main HQ, ushered up a side entrance into the room you now sat, told you to wait, and left you alone for what felt like hours.

The door eventually opens and a smartly dressed, pretty woman, hair pinned up in a bun and wearing glasses enters, immediately heading to the other side of the desk and taking what you assumed was her seat. A handsome man accompanied her, shaggy brown hair, dressed in cargo pants, fingerless gloves, knife strapped to his thigh, finished off with a leather jacket, a holster poking out from underneath. He gives you a sympathetic once over as he sits down besides you, careful not to brush your knee with his own as he does. Considerate.

“Were you given adequate pain medication?” The lady asks abruptly, beginning to type on her keyboard.

You stare at her a moment – she’s all business. “Er… Yeah. Thanks.” Though you’re sure the two of them have noticed the wince as you shuffled in your seat. The medic had offered you stronger stuff but you’d declined, wanting to keep your wits about you. “Sorry, what’s happening now?”

“I’m Ingrid Hunnigan, this is Agent Kennedy.” She nods to the man opposite her.

“Name’s Leon.” The man besides you offers his hand and you notice he’s adapted for your incapacitated arm, in what will surely result in a very awkward handshake but the gesture is nice. You take it, hoping the tremor in your grip isn’t so painfully obvious. “Hi. Erm, I’m-”

“Dove.” Hunnigan cuts you off. “I am aware of your identity, but we will be referring to you as Dove.”

“It’s a codename.” Leon explains, a little less business. “For your safety.”

Hunnigan pauses in her typing, hitting backspace slowly as she replies. “Agent Kennedy will be your protection detail until we get this mess squared up.”

Your breath catches in your throat at her choice of word, a sick feeling twisting in your stomach. “Mess? It was a massacre in there-”

“I know. We know.” The agent besides you stresses. “I’m sorry you had to see all that.”

“Am I the only one who…?” You don’t know why you ask.

“I’m afraid so.” Hunnigan replies, a little softer in tone. “We’re going to send you to a safe house. Agent Kennedy will stay with you.”

“O-okay.” You nod, not taking it all in. “You… You think they’d send whatever that thing was after me?”

“That’s what we need time to establish.” Hunnigan replies. “From the CCTV, after the attack, there was a breach on the database. We need to establish how much data they managed to extract, if any. Agent Kennedy will keep you updated as much as he can when he receives any intel.” She turns more to him then, cutting you out of the conversation. “I’ll send the co-ordinates of the safe house when you’re out of the city. They’re loading up an SUV with supplies for at least a week. If it goes on longer, we’ll arrange a supply drop via another location.”

“That long?” You feel like you’re interrupting.

“Worse case scenario, Dove.” Leon offers you a smile. “I’m sure we’ll have you back home in no time. Did they send you away with any meds?”

“The medic sent in a report – with a treatment plan. It’s in the information pack, prescribed medicine is in with the supplies. Again, enough for a week.” Hunnigan replies. “I’ve arranged clothes too – medic guessed your size for me. We’ll be keeping your phone for now.”

“Why?”

“We can’t allow you to contact anyone – for your safety and theirs.”

Your heart skips a beat at that comment. “Wait… You think I might be behind this, don’t you?”

Hunnigan purses her lips. “It is an avenue we need to explore. There are questions as to why you alone survived. We will be dispatching a team to your residence once the two of you are out of the city to help in our investigation.”

“Again, that’s just protocol.” Leon tries to reassure, but your mind is whirling. “No-one is accusing you of anything, Dove.”

“I… I’ve worked here for years, I passed all the clearance checks. I wouldn’t, I didn’t…”

“As Agent Kennedy said, it’s just protocol. If you have nothing to hide, there is nothing to fear.” Hunnigan resumes tapping away at the keyboard as she talks, pausing as the computer emits a ping. “SUV’s ready. I suggest you two go.”

Leon gets to his feet, once more offering his hand to help you to yours. He smiles, sympathetically, as he takes in your appearance – your face has lost what little colour it had.

“Time to go, Dove. It’ll be all right.”

You want to say no, you feel like you need to stay to plead your innocence, but you catch sight of the gun holstered by his side and the flame of defiance is extinguished. You take his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. He places his hand on the small of your back to guide you back through the door and you can’t work out if it should feel like comfort or a threat.

--

You felt numb as Leon had escorted you to a large SUV with blacked out windows in an empty carpark. He’d opened the door for you, helped you climb in before hesitating.

“Need a hand with your seatbelt?”

You stare at him for a moment too long.

“Because of your arm, I mean.”

“Oh. Please.”

He leans over you, grabbing the seatbelt and clicking it into place.

“Right. Comfy?”

“Yeah.” You swallow. “Thanks.”

He nods, closes the door behind him – softly, you note, rather than a slam and it’s then you realise that you also can’t see out the windows. He hops up into the front, buckles his own seatbelt and starts the engine, swinging the SUV out of the parking space with ease. You can’t really see anything from where you’re sat, bar the back of his head and it must be deliberate.

“Hopefully it’s not too long of a drive.” He comments. “Had one that was a twelve hours’ away once and we are not allowed to stop for bathroom breaks.”

“Are you allowed to tell me how far away it is when you know?”

“Don’t see why not. Hunnigan will ping it through once we’re clear enough.”

It’s hard to tell how much time has passed when, eventually, the promised ping echoes around the car. You can hear him tap his fingers against something and he hums to himself.

“We’re in luck – about two hours away, Dove. Want some music on? Don’t have any CDs but got the radio.”

Maybe the music will help drown out how loud your heart is thudding in your ears. ”Yeah, sure.”

He fiddles with the dial – sound crackling around the car before it settles on some acoustic tune you don’t recognize. Must be some easy listening station.

“You can nap, if you like.”

“Maybe.” Though you’re not sure how you’ll ever sleep again after today.

The rest of the drive passes in silence, apart from the sound of the radio. You close your eyes a few times, leaning your head back against the seat but the creature seems burned into your retinas, haunting your vision.

“This is us.” Leon breaks the silence as you feel the car turn and he reduces the speed. He switches off the car and unclicks his seatbelt, turning back to face you. “Wait there just a moment, okay?”

“Yeah.”

 He smiles, opens his door and hops out, again closing the door softly behind him. What must be a few minutes later, your door opens and he once again offers his hand.

“Ready?

You unclip your seatbelt with your good hand before accepting his outstretched one, helping you step down from the SUV. You’re in a garage now of some sort – spacious enough to fit the car and what looks to be a chest freezer, washer and tumble dryer - the whole room illuminated by an orange bulb.

“So, we said safe house – seems more like a safe bungalow to me. I’ll give you the tour.” He gestures forward towards an open door and you walk forward, once again his hand falling to the small of your back. It leads through to a modest sized kitchen – usual white appliances and opens out into a living room with two couches, a coffee table and an entertainment unit with a television. There are two more doors along the wall, but what really strikes you is how small the windows all are, covered in thick panes of glass.

Bulletproof, you wonder.

“Bathroom’s this one,” he opens the door in demonstration, revealing a typical bathroom, before moving along. “And the bedroom.” It has a double bed, white linen sheets, a wardrobe and dresser. “Your bedroom,” he corrects. “I’ll be on the couch.”

“Oh. Is that comfortable?”

He smiles at your concern. “I’m pretty good at sleeping anywhere, but it looks comfortable enough. Speaking of, it’s pretty late so I think we should call it a night.” He ducks into the bathroom, pulling out a washbag from under the sink and empties the contents on the counter. “Standard toiletries kit to start us off. I’m gonna start bringing in the supplies. Sound good?”

You nod and he heads back towards the garage. You kick off your shoes before you step into the bathroom and close the door, twisting the lock closed. You use the facilities with some difficulty, your first visit since being an arm down, though thankful to be in a dress so as not to battle with trousers. After what some might call a best attempt of washing your hand, you pick up the toothbrush and immediately put it back down in annoyance as you realise you’ll need to deal with the toothpaste first. Thankful for the flip cap, the tube slips from your grip as you squeeze, shooting across the counter and knocking a glass off the counter, sending it smashing to the floor.

“Fu-” The word doesn’t even make it out of your mouth when the door is broken open, slammed against the wall and Leon is stood there, gun raised as you scream.

He scans the room with his eyes, concedes it’s clear and lowers his gun. “What happened? You okay?”

“I… I d-dropped the t-t-toothpaste and smashed the g-glass and…” Your breath catches in your throat again, tears burning in your eyes.

“Hey,” he holsters the gun on his thigh. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay. Sorry for scaring you. I thought there was a window in here.”

He looks down at the broken glass that’s exploded over the floor and your sock-clad feet. “Sit down, all right? I’ll clear this up.”

“No, I s-should-”

“I can do it. Just sit, please. I’ll go grab a dustpan – they have one. Not my first safe house.” He soothes, heading off into the kitchen cupboards in search of it.

You sit down on the closed toilet seat lid and wonder bitterly if he’s at more safe houses than his own home. You take the moment to try and settle your breathing, your heart still pounding.

Leon appears at the door once more, grinning as he holds the dustpan and brush aloft in triumph. “Found it.” He crouches down, beginning to sweep up the glass. You watch in silence as he tackles the floor methodically, making sure to brush along each square of bathroom tile until he seems satisfied with his work.

“There. All done.” He places it to the side and grabs the troublesome toothpaste tube, before standing up to his full height. “So, this was the culprit, huh?”

You nod. “I don’t know what happened - the only difference was the toothbrush being on the counter, so I should be able to do it, just-”

He picks up the toothbrush and squeezes a blob of toothpaste on it. “On the house.” Leon jokes, offering it back to you. You stand up and accept it, hesitantly.

“I kinda feel pathetic.” You admit.

“Dove…” You’re getting a little used to the name now. It sounds nice off his tongue – soft and sweet. “You’ve had a shitty day, give yourself a break.”

“No, I mean, it just feels like you’re my servant or something – sweeping up, squeezing out my toothpaste...”

“To protect and serve’s the motto.” He smiles at your confused look. “I was a cop before I was an agent.”

“And this is the stuff you did as a cop?”

“Yes, alongside the helping old ladies with their groceries, helping ducks cross the street…” He teases, before nodding at the toothbrush in your hand. “I’ll leave you to it.”

After brushing your teeth without further incident and taking a few more moments to compose yourself, you exit the bathroom. Leon’s stood at the kitchen counter, paper bag in hand, looking at pill packets. There’s a couple of duffel bags near the garage door, one unzipped.

“Medical notes say it’s painkiller time, I’m afraid.” He grabs a glass from the cupboard, fills it up with water from the tap and places it down besides two white pills. “They’ve given you some sleeping tablets as well, but that’s up to you.”

“Do they stop you dreaming?”

Leon grimaces at your question. “From personal experience, yeah. No dreams.”

You hold out your hand. “Then I’ll take them.”

He nods, shaking another two pills out of a bottle and into his hand, picking up the other two and drops them in your hand. You open your mouth and throw them in, before accepting the glass of water, swallowing it all down.

“So, er, this is gonna be a little bit awkward, but I don’t know what you prefer to sleep in, obviously, but I’m assuming not that.”

“Oh. Yeah, no.”

“So, I pulled out a couple of things.” He nods towards the bedroom, where you can see some items of clothing laying out on the bed. He’s turned the bedside lamp on, the room softly illuminated in a white glow.

“You really are a safe house pro.”

“Ha, yeah.” He grins, rubbing the back of his head. “I guess my question is, do you need a hand with changing? 100% respectful offer, obviously.”

You nod. “Please.”

“Okay. After you.”

You walk into the bedroom, Leon keeping his distance this time. There’s an oversized t-shirt in the pile, looks like it will reach your knees. You pick it up with your good hand, clutching it close to your chest and turn to face him.

“Can you help with the sling?”

“Yep.” He nods – professional, unstrapping it with ease and removing it gently. “Afraid medic says you need to sleep with the sling for a week.”

“Mm.” You nod, hanging your arm down loose before turning around. “I guess if you could unzip and I’ll…”

“Got it.” He tugs down the zipper of your dress slowly – if it was some other encounter you’d say he was being a tease. He stops as he reaches the small of your back, just above your underwear. “What can I do now?”

Your breath hitches in your throat, but there’s no getting around it now. “Any good at undoing a bra? Professionally.”

“Professionally, yep.” You feel gentle fingers deftly unclasp it with ease.

“I think I’ve got it from now until the sling needs back on, so-”

“Say no more. Just call when you’re ready.”

The door closes behind you and you exhale, trying to compose yourself. It’s more months since a man had helped you out of a dress and this, after everything today and the situation you’re in, unsure if he sees you as victim or villain, shouldn’t be making you feel flustered.

Gingerly, you slip one arm out of the dress, followed by the other, wincing as you do so and allowing it to pool down at your feet. Next comes your bra, and then you gently pull the t-shirt over your head, again flinching as your shoulder smarts.

Decent, or decent enough, you call out. “Leon? I’m ready.”

“Coming in.” He announces, pausing a moment before opening the door and immediately moves to pick up the sling from where he placed it on the bed. “I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

With practiced hands, he positions your arm into the sling, adjusting it carefully and fastening it in place once more. “There. Feel okay?”

“Yeah.” You look him in the eyes then – beautiful, blue eyes, before fighting back a yawn. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiles. “That will be the sleeping pills kicking in. I forgot to mention they’re real heavy duty.”

“Mm.” You sit down on the bed then, a little too heavily, before picking up your discarded dress on the floor. “Could you bin this?”

“Of course.” He takes it from you, no question. “Anything else I can do?”

“No. Thank you.”

“You don’t need to keep thanking me, Dove. It’s all right – I told you, part of the job.”

“Still, thank you.” You mumble, head feeling heavy.

“Here,” he pulls back the covers as you scooch yourself back and lean your head back on the pillow, tucking the duvet in over you. “Arm still okay?”

You nod, looking up at him with bleary eyes.

“I swear what happened wasn’t anything to do with me. I swear.”

“Shh,” Leon hushes. “I know.” He feels it in his gut, felt it since the moment he lay eyes on you in Hunnigan’s office. “Maybe tomorrow we’ll hear some updates. But, for now, just sleep. Okay, Dove?”

“Sleep, okay…” You mumble, closing your eyes.

Leon hovers a moment, noting the change in your breathing as the sleeping pills pull you under. He turns off the bedside lamp and leaves the bedroom, quietly, your dress clutched in his hand. He places it in the kitchen bin – there’s an incinerator round the back to erase all trace of their visit, but he’ll do that in the morning.

He makes his way over to the sofa and lies down, not even bothering to remove his boots.

He won’t be sleeping tonight.

-- Do let me know if you'd be interested in a part two! x EDIT: Part two!

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

[multiheadcanons]

BLU STREETWEAR

scout: a long sleeve shirt with thumb holes chewed into them, and a solid t shirt over that. occasionally he will put a jacket or a hoodie over this if it is cold. a pair of joggers, long crew socks, and a pair of platform high top sneakers, the shoelaces wrapped around his ankle three times, and the ends tucked into the shoes themselves. if it’s sunny, he will add a brimmed hat. doesn’t like beanies, so he rarely wears them.

soldier: a simple white t shirt and a pair of neutral colored pants, slacks, or jeans. black or brown leather jacket with an interior faux fur lining over the shirt, and his work boots. he doesn’t own any other shoes than his work boots. they are molded to his feet, and at this point are some of the most comfortable things he owns. helmet stays on unless the team begs him to leave it at home. they think he’s cuter without it.

pyro: their fire suit, but with a ring on every finger. pyro is a big accessorizer. lots of hats, lots of jewelry, lots of purses and bags, lots of stick on gems. they are usually running around with gems glued to the gas mask where their ears assumedly are. those are their earrings. pyro also has a lot of coverups. robes, sweaters, jackets, coats. pyro doesn’t like to take the suit off, but they do like the variety in their looks! it works for them.

demo: black cropped short sleeved turtleneck with an undershirt of various colors and textures. leather jacket, and a pair of sneakers, or a pair of combat boots. the undershirt normally will match his pants, which are usually cargo joggers. he’s got undershirts and this particular style of pants in every color and pattern imaginable, and there is a match for each article of clothing. styled with a thick, structured trench coat in various neutrals and a kooky beanie that doesn’t match anything.

heavy: white, thin long sleeve shirt. a solid shirt, normally blue, placed above it. sleeves left alone regardless of the temperature outside. the pants change, but are usually thick, or freshly pressed denim. he once wore overalls and that freaked everyone out, so those got taken out of the wardrobe. denim jackets that do not get above a cerulean in tone and saturation and leather fingerless gloves, usually left unbuttoned unless it’s cold. if he’s wearing jeans, he will switch to a leather jacket. thick platformed boots. he likes the extra inches. makes his existence funnier. sometimes, he will wear a cap.

engineer: this man goes pretty much everywhere in the same hoodie and jeans he’s owned for the past ten years. it’s the shoes that change. sometimes it’s his work boots. sometimes a ratty pair of sneakers. sometimes a pair of well cared for loafers. sometimes fuzzy dog slippers and socks. underneath the hoodie is normally a short sleeved collared shirt, patterned with odd and silly, almost eye watering designs. or flannel in a variety of colors. has a large sherpa olive green coat for the colder days. his actual outfit rarely, if ever changes, what does is how he wears it. there is a notable difference of him wearing this hoodie slouched, covered in crumbs versus his shoulders rolled back and his characteristic uncaring charisma.

medic: it really depends on the weather. on hotter days, he will opt for a white cotton three quarter sleeve shirt, and a pair of pressed slacks with leather dress shoes. his forearms are usually busting out of the sleeves, and he is already complaining of the heat. in the colder months, he is much more put together, and less bitchy. a dark brown turtleneck, a vest of a complementing color, and wool blend slacks. a thick woolen trench coat above that, and occasionally a cap. has many odd pairs of shoes for the winter. loafers with cutouts, infeasibly fitted boots that look crafted around his legs, none truly made for snow. this has never posed a problem.

sniper: snipes will eat up a little v neck henley and a pair of casual slacks. and you know those buttons are never done and those sleeves are cuffed, come on. he might cuff his pants comically high, even. really just depends on what he’s doing for the day. normally in some sandals. “thongs”, even. he learned very quickly he could not call them thongs around the americans. or any of the team, really. though when he found out what a thong was in america he was quite humored! if it’s cold he’s just wearing his regular shoes, and a vest.

spy: stay with me on this journey, okay? because he’s gonna eat this up, promise. a powder blue crewneck, comically oversized. like 5xl men’s powder blue crewneck layered on top of a silk white button up shirt. he belts it with a wide cognac belt, allowing the rest of the belt to flap however it will. if he’s feeling particularly queer, under this will be a powder blue dominant plaid pleated skirt. he tops this with loafers of his choice. and you know the balaclava stays on.

[itsalliny0urhead]

Divided (peter parker x reader)

She was his best friend. They built circuits together. Shared notes. Shared silence. He always knew she had powers—he just never asked how deep they ran. Now they’re on opposite sides of a war neither of them wanted, and for the first time, Peter sees what she really is.

peter parker x reader

He doesn’t realize it’s her until the air changes.

The fight rages around him—shouts, crashes, metal groaning under superhuman weight—but suddenly everything fades. The air goes heavier. Thicker. Warm. Static crawls across the back of Peter’s neck, and his hand falters mid-swing.

It hits him in the chest—not a blast, not a blow—just a feeling.

Something familiar.

Something known.

Something wrong.

Then the smoke thins. The dust clears.

And there she is.

It’s like being punched in the gut without ever being touched.

She steps forward out of the haze like a ghost. Or a god.

Combat boots. Fingerless gloves. Field jacket cinched tight around her ribs like armor. Her hair’s pulled back, but wild around the edges. Her jaw’s clenched. Her hands glow.

And Peter? Peter can’t breathe.

Because her face— Her face is exactly the same.

But her eyes aren’t.

“Y/N?”

His voice cracks like it forgot how to say her name.

She stops walking.

And the world stops with her.

He’s never seen her like this.

Not in the crowded hallways between third and fourth period. Not tucked beside him on the roof of the compound, passing cold fries between bites of half-baked theories. Not when she stole his notes and doodled little spiders in the margins. Not when they snuck out of training together just to lie on the grass and breathe.

And never—never—with glowing veins of gold-red light pulsing under her skin like molten energy caged in something fragile.

The hum of her power hits him like a wave.

It’s beautiful.

And terrifying.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she says.

Her voice is steady.

But her hands are shaking.

Peter stumbles forward a step. His chest is too tight. His suit is too hot.

“What are you— You can’t be—this isn’t—”

“You don’t belong on this side,” she says.

Her hands flare brighter. The light spills down her arms in angry flickers. Heat bleeds off her in waves.

Neither of them moves.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks.

“Tell you what?”

“That you—” He gestures helplessly, voice splintering. “This. Your powers.”

She flinches. It’s quick. Barely there.

But he sees it.

“You think I wanted you to look at me like that?” she says.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re scared of me.”

Peter’s throat closes. “I’m not— I just— You’re—”

He can’t finish.

Because he is scared.

Not of her power.

Of what it means.

Of how long she’s kept this locked away. Of how far apart they suddenly feel. Of the fact that he’s seeing her fully for the first time—and it’s here, now, on opposite sides of a war neither of them started.

And she sees all of it.

She lifts a hand. Light pools in her palm.

“Move, Peter.”

“Don’t do this.”

“Move.”

“Y/N, please—”

“Move.”

She fires.

It doesn’t hit him—not quite—but it hits the tarmac just three feet from where he stands. The blast sends him flying backwards, ears ringing, world spinning. He flips, webbing a container midair, landing hard on one knee and gasping.

His hands tremble.

He’s never seen her like this.

And it terrifies him.

Because he knows her.

God, he knows her.

She’s the girl who stayed on the phone with him all night after Uncle Ben died. The one who stitched his suit the first time he came back bloody and shaking. The one who sat beside him in AP Bio and whispered “You’re doing great” during the pop quiz they both bombed. The one who used to say, softly, when the power flickered beneath her skin: “I’m not dangerous, Pete. I just feel too much.”

But now?

Now she’s glowing.

And she’s aiming at him.

“I never wanted to fight you,” Peter says, breathless, watching her approach.

Her boots crunch over broken pavement. Her face is calm. Her eyes are wreckage.

“We’re on the same side,” he says.

She stops walking.

“No,” she says quietly. “We never were.”

Peter shakes his head. “That’s not true.”

“I just pretended for longer.”

The words hit harder than the blast.

Peter’s chest hollows out.

“You left.”

“I had to.”

“You could’ve told me—”

“You would’ve tried to stop me.”

“I would’ve followed you.”

She stares at him.

“You didn’t.”

The silence is deafening.

She steps closer. Every movement is sharp, deliberate, controlled—but there’s emotion under the surface, like her power isn’t the only thing threatening to spill over.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” she whispers. “To be monitored. Restricted. Treated like you’re one breath away from turning into a weapon.”

“I never thought that about you,” Peter says. “Not once.”

“But you never said that.”

He flinches.

She keeps going.

“You stayed quiet. When my father locked me in a room. When they started calling me unstable. You didn’t ask questions. You didn’t ask me anything.”

He tries to speak.

Fails.

Her eyes flick down to his lips.

And her voice breaks.

“You should’ve kissed me when you had the chance.”

The light pulses brighter than ever.

And then— She fires.

Point blank.

White light swallows everything.

The air howls.

Peter hits the ground hard, skidding across fractured pavement.

When he blinks through the static, the smoke—

She’s gone.

The silence afterward is sharp.

Like glass in his lungs.

Peter lies still on the cracked concrete, breath stuttering. His suit's scorched. His ears are ringing. The glow of her power still burns behind his eyelids, imprinting itself on him like a scar he’ll never shake.

His fingers twitch.

She’s gone.

Not just out of sight. Out of reach.

Out of them.

[samovar225]

I present to you a new OC! Pokey the cat!

An anthropomorphic female cat, she wears fingerless gloves and has one fang sticking out of her mouth. Her bulky tail allows her to deliver powerful blows to her enemies and is her main weapon. Kind and sympathetic, but also quite hyperactive and hot-tempered, and when it comes to her friends, she definitely becomes a weapon for killing. No romantic interest. Starts conversations with everyone who doesn't attack her.

!CAUTION! Lots of text and not so well-developed drawings

Interactions!

Peppino

They both considered each other as enemies, although in fact they were "on the same side". Peppino crashed into Pokey, who was just resting on one of the levels, considering Peppino as an enemy. Pokey attacked him, and Peppino also considered Pokey as an enemy, in the battle they shouted different phrases, and at some point they realized that they were definitely not enemies to each other, mutually apologized and went on to fight together Back 2 Back

Gustavo and the Brick

They have lunch together. Pockey knows, they're cool guys.

Mr Stick

She's a little afraid of him, because she doesn't know that she have to... pay for boss fights? Ugh. She'll just find some loopholes.

Pepperman

Pepper was not really told who should attack the tower, so without thinking he attacked Pokey, who, however, Pokey beat his already red ass

The Vigilante

She was REALLY scared of having to attack someone with a gun, although she somehow managed to defeat Cheese Cowboy.

The Noise

In fact, Pokey didn't fight him, because she met Peppino before she managed to fight Noise, but he didn't try to harm her, so they had a pretty good conversation.

Noisette

Pokey stumbled upon her cafe and goes there after every battle and talks to the cafe owner.

Fake Peppino

She just thought that Peppino forgot their fight and conversation, and so she fought desperately with his copy as well, well.. Oh shit, here we go again

Pizzaface

He scares her, and she would also be glad to kick his ass for fooling her.

Pizzahead

Same thing, she's ready to scratch his whole stupid cheese face for lying.(Will be described below)

A little history:

Pokey was helping her fisherman uncle, who had forgotten his bait at home, when a large black hole appeared under her paws, into which she, of course, fell and ended up in the world of Pizza Tower.

Pokey woke up a couple of minutes later, but immediately realized that something was wrong, however... she was used to things happening to her... so she calmly looked around and tried to figure out where she was.

While Pokey was sitting and thinking, Pizzaface flew up to her and seriously scared her. He told Pokey that her best friend Guts was imprisoned in the tower and if she didn't find herself on top of the tower in 3 days, then Guts and they would remain in this world forever, after that she got into the Pizza Tower. (In fact, Guts wasn't there.)

Phew... I suffered over this post for 3 days and 3 nights! (almost, in fact 2 days and 2 nights, but no big deal.)

Sorry for any grammatical or punctuation errors if you found them and also for any possible unclear expressions, I apologize very much!

I would be very glad if you helped to promote it, and thank you, even if you just paid attention, know that I am very grateful to you!

Plus I want to add that I will soon open an ask for Pokey (as soon as I pay off all my debts)

[phoenixyfriend]

All the World's a Stage, Especially This Castle: Ch6

Chapter 6: Loverboy

To everyone who helped out with the math post, this is what it was for.

------------------------

Obi-Wan, despite being technically employed full time, and also the adopted grandson of an earl, is still taking courses. He’s not quite the academic that Depa and Qui-Gon are, but he’s got his interests.

Like bugs.

Namely, parasites.

Everyone else hates it, but Obi-Wan can’t help finding the little critters fascinating, even if he’s not allowed to bring school home with him like Depa or Qui-Gon. Too much of a risk of something escaping confinement and infesting the greenhouses, they say.

He’s more careful than that, really, but he lets them have their way. He’s only a part-time student, anyway, which is true of many graduate students, though not necessarily many in his department. The others, he knows, juggle school with work if that work is in same field, or at least a related one.

Obi-Wan’s still trying to decide how to marry his work in historical recreation with his studies in entomology. He’s been thinking about trying to do research on centuries-past plagues of the many-legged type, but he’s not had much time to look into the realities of such a study.

He’s barely had enough time to do his own homework, between the museum, the wedding, and Anakin.

Three hours into an essay, his phone buzzes. He shouldn’t look at it, but he’s been working, right? He deserves to see who’s calling for him.

Quin: Look outside

Obi-Wan is in the library, which sprawls across several floors of the building, and Obi-Wan is on the third of them. Realistically, anything outside this window would be a balloon, or a drone, or a kite.

He looks out the window, and isn’t surprised to see Quinlan, hanging upside-down from god-knows-what, grinning like a madman.

With a groan, Obi-Wan stands and goes to open the window. “Seriously?”

“You should be impressed,” Quinlan goads, doing some insane balancing act with his hands on the sill and a foot somewhere above, hooked into a decoration to prevent him from toppling to the tiled roof below. He manages to contort himself to stand on the sill, one hand gripping the wall for dear life and the other keeping up most of his weight, legs slowly coming down until he can just hop right in. “Not everyone could do that.”

“Most people aren’t reckless enough to try,” Obi-Wan scolds. He pulls Quinlan’s hands to him. “Let me see the scratches.”

“I’m not hurt,” Quinlan feigns to protest, and it’s almost irritating that Obi-Wan indeed doesn’t find any scratches on the man. Fingerless gloves, as usual, and callouses that Obi-Wan can’t hope to match. “See? I’m fine, Obi.”

Obi-Wan huffs, deciding to fiddle about with Quinlan’s jacket instead of stepping away again. “That is not my name.”

“Sure,” Quinlan says. He leans down a little, with that damnable smirk playing on his lips, and Obi-Wan refuses to be cowed. “So, Obi-Wan… where’s my welcome home kiss?”

“This isn’t your home,” Obi-Wan says immediately. “You want home, you go to Plo’s.”

“Ooh, ouch,” Quinlan laughs. He crowds Obi-Wan back against the wall, and puts a hand on the stone like he’s some character from a modern soap opera. “So, we’re not together?”

Asshole. Obi-Wan rolls his eyes, because he needs to make it clear he’s doing this just because he wants to, and then finally presses his mouth to Quinlan’s. He keeps it firm and dry and chaste, and pulls away when Quinlan tries to deepen it with a twist of his head and a swipe of his tongue across Obi-Wan’s lips.

“You’re a tease,” Quinlan accuses. Obi-Wan doesn’t take it to heart, especially as Quinlan puts a hand to Obi-Wan’s hip and squeezes. “So cruel to me.”

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow. He’s rather proud of how well he can manage that. “You’ll recover.”

“I’ll recover faster with a kiss,” Quinlan wheedles.

He laughs when Obi-Wan decides he’s had enough of the position and brushes past him to get back to his studies. Quinlan follows eagerly, leaning over his shoulder to see the dry texts that Obi-Wan is working his way through. “You wound me, Obi.”

“I aim to, Quinlan,” Obi-Wan says. There’s not much bite to it, though he decides that may change when Quinlan steps around to get between Obi-Wan and the desk, just barely squeezing in before Obi-Wan tugs his seat back in.

Quinlan doesn’t lean over him or sit on the desk, though he does bump it away a bit. Rather, he sinks to his knees and hugs Obi-Wan about the waist, peering up through his lashes and doing his best to manage the puppy-dog eyes. “Please, Obi? One kiss, that’s all I ask.”

“And here I was thinking you wanted to marry me.”

“Well, if it’s back on the table…”

Obi-Wan grabs the small pillow that was at his back and shoves it into Quinlan’s face.

Quinlan pulls him to the ground, and they wrestle for a few moments, Obi-Wan frantically shushing him before Grandmother somehow hears. He ends up flat on his back, Quinlan hovering over him on all fours, and there is no way that Obi-Wan isn’t flushed and mussed from what just happened.

“Come on,” Quinlan coos. “Are we dating again? Simple yes or no…”

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes again. “Let me up and maybe you’ll get an answer.”

Quinlan snickers and sits back, though he settles himself onto Obi-Wan’s thighs instead of actually getting up. Obi-Wan levers himself up as well, despairing for the state of his hair.

“How long until you’re sent off again?” Obi-Wan asks.

“I’m staying domestic until at least after the wedding,” Quinlan says. “Ms. Gallia said your dad wanted me to be one of the official photographers.”

Obi-Wan was part of that conversation. “They do, both of them. I’m sure Aayla and Ahsoka are both going to be delighted to hear that. I assume Aayla’s going to be visiting more often?”

“Mm-hm,” Quinlan says. He tries to steal a kiss, but Obi-Wan dodges it. “Speaking of little siblings…”

“I’ll introduce you, later,” Obi-Wan says, “and really, don’t climb the walls. I’m worried he might try to imitate you, and we don’t need that, he’s nine.”

“Aayla was—”

“Nine, Quinlan,” Obi-Wan stresses. “Please, for my blood pressure, if nothing else.”

The smile, this time, is softer. Fonder. Less of a tease. “Yeah, okay. I’ll keep the shenanigans to a low simmer.”

Obi-Wan sighs. He thinks. He lifts a hand and drifts his fingers across Quinlan’s cheek.

He draws his best-friend-and-lover into a kiss. It’s longer. Deeper. It lingers.

Obi-Wan pulls away with a smile. “Welcome home, Quin.”

(Continue on AO3)

[starfruitgalaxy]

The thing that sucks about wanting to be forcefemmed as a trans woman is that there is the argument that it’s just consensual fem.

And I’m not going to dispute that. Kind of sucks though because even though I’ve come out as trans for multiple years I still haven’t taken any other major steps aside from meds

I haven’t really done makeup ever but I’m trying to get into it now. And I’ll be honest it makes me feel so much better not seeing my boring face but my face that is shaved and made cute.

Little foundation, little contour, little blush, eyeshadow, mascara, and strawberry red lipstick makes me feel so much better

I got thigh highs somewhere but I don’t really wear them often, though they help me feel better because I can ignore the fact that my legs are unshaved because I don’t have the attention to take care of them.

The same story goes for my arms, I just got some fingerless glove arm warmers and they make me feel less dysphoric putting them on.

All those things together I feel a little better about myself, but I still put on shorts and tshirts on all the time, maybe a bra when I’m in public, but not really enough dresses or stuff beyond that so I can get a bit dysphoric, a fish out of water

It would just be really nice if I went to a gay bar or a friendly party something and a cute trans girl brings me over her place and hypnotizes me and the next time I come to I’m just her pretty princess and I can’t even deny it because any words I would use to put myself down have been flushed out of my vocabulary and so I’m just stammering my words and blushing and melting and shutting down as I finally accept the fact that I’m a really cute, submissive girl now

What was I saying again?