#set your queue on fire

[tristanconnolly]

@bettyconnolly

We’re best friends.

[vuulpecula]

"Haven't been seeing a lot of new faces around here," Fox greeted the stranger. She paused, taking a sip of her Nuka-Cola. "Should be careful, get too close to Diamond City and they might start accusing you of being a synth. Synth or not though, as long as you follow the rules and are respectful, you can stay in Goodneighbor. Unless you're one of those replacements--Anyone buy you a drink yet? You look thirsty."

✖ @revelatixned ❤’d for a teeny tiny starter.

[voidedgear]

i hate it when you do things like that. [ from @piousolus ]

MEME OBTAINED!

Vanitas is out of breath after the beating he’d given those wayward Heartless, adrenaline flooding his system. How he loves being able to throw everything to the wayside and speak the language most familiar to him.

Violence.

And in the process, he might have gotten a little careless. He wasn’t used to working with someone else on the battlefield, never mind a goody-two shoes like Aqua. He’d performed a quick movement to slash at one of the monsters and put himself directly in her line of fire. She’d been forced to redirect her fire magic at the last second, causing a minor landslide when it had exploded into the side of a mountain.

Which had luckily ended up crushing the rest of their enemies. Which brings us to this conversation.

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” Vanitas scoffs, throwing a hand out as he turned around. Vanitas could get a little rough in battle. So what? As long as it defeats his enemies, he doesn’t see what the issue is.

His hand shifts, falling against his side.

“Besides, I bet you were tempted to let me have it for a second.” While the words are accusatory, Vanitas doesn’t sound upset when he says it. As if he considers such an attitude to be normal.

[cardierreh15]

God I love this

The Witcher 3 + Signs

Though they are not warrior mages who employ powerful magic, witchers can cast simple magic spells that can prove effective when used properly. Witchers call these spells Signs and usually use them against monsters, though they also have non-combat applications. Because of the Signs, witchers prefer single-handed weaponry since it leaves their other hand free to cast.

[truly-quirkless]

TAG DUMP 2 - Inbox n' Dash

[jj-one]

𖠿 ៹ ˚. ꒰ SKZ + WHERE THEY LIKE TO FINISH ! ꒱

this is smut, do not interact if under 18 !

pairing: skz x fem!reader genre/tags: smut, slight dom/sub play, degrading, praise kink, perv!seungmin, kinda subby!felix, handjob, oral (m. receiving), t*tty f*cking, backshots, spanking, overstim, panty kink, c*mplay, hair pulling, piv, creampie, spit kink, dumbification (?), breeding kink, just a whole lotta nasty shit !!! words: 5.3k (got a little carried away.. my bad)

[ note. ] — so yeah i’m back in my smut era once again lolz. i got a random burst of motivation to get back into it so let’s see how long this’ll last ! enjoy my horny word vomit <3

✵ BANG CHAN — ( inside )

This man is most definitely a creampie enthusiast through and through.

He doesn’t even think about pulling out before he’s about to finish; he just wants to fill you up again and again until you’re stuffed to the brim with his cum, white streaks running down your inner thighs. He can’t help the fact that he’s always fantasizing about breeding you properly— to have your belly full of his babies, the way your tits would get bigger and more swollen with milk, how everyone will know just how greedy you were for his cock. It drives him crazy.

Your whole body feels like it’s been set on fire, going nonverbal the minute his cock sinks into your gummy walls, feeling you clamp around him instantly, the warmth of you already making him drunk off your pussy.

“Shit... loosen up baby, you’re squeezin’ me.” His breath hitches whilst he positions himself to go deeper, filling you up nice and easy. His broad frame hovers over your body as he picks up his pace, a sheen of sweat glistening over his abs. Your nails dug crescents into Chan’s biceps, gritting your teeth and feeling faint from how good he’s fucking you.

You could cry right now, it’s all become too much for you to bear, your limbs grew weak, your mind going blank. You’re a babbling mess and he loves every bit of it. The curve of his cock hitting you just right as the room is filled with nothing but heavy panting and the sound of your arousal, but you couldn’t stop now, you had no choice but to take it because you’re anything but a quitter!

“Nngh, m’gonna cum!” You whined loudly, cupping your tits and running your fingers along your hardened nipples, mouth going permanently agape as you feel your high approaching.

“Then be a good girl for me and cream all over my cock,” he lowly whispers into your ear, pounding so hard into you the only thing you could do was repeat his name over and over like a broken record. You were simply too fucked out to think or speak— too dumb, too stupid.

That was your final queue to let go, instantly obeying his every word. You were breathless, heart pounding, convulsing on the bed, arching against the sheets, and with a strangled moan escaping his throat, Chan shot thick spurts of cum inside as if he’d been holding it in for months.

He’s groaning as your cunt clenches around his thickness, milking him for all he’s worth, and it’s all too intense for him. He bites down on the juncture between your neck and your shoulder as an immense wave of pleasure washes over him. After he pulls out, he scoops some of the cum that’s dripping out of you on his fingers and pushes it back inside you, if only to chuckle at your choked out moan.

“Fuck.. pussy just made for me, you feel so good baby. You love milking my cock, don’t you?”

✵ LEE KNOW — ( on your ass )

We all know by now that Minho is an ass man at heart, he just loves how it molded into his hands so perfectly, the way it replied to any friction he applied to it on command. He loved how red it got once his hands launched across it’s surface and how he’d sometimes be able to see his own handprints— he absolutely loves to ruin you.

He’d have you bent over on all fours with your ass up in the air, practically salivating at the sight beneath him, he couldn’t help but grab a handful of ass, it’s pretty much second nature for him.

As much as he wanted to fuck you right here and now, Minho was always such a tease, rubbing his length between your dripping folds, your continuous pleas for him to put it in already simply falls on deaf ears. He’s never been one to give you what you want straight away, you’re gonna have to earn it in order for him to comply, and when he finally does slide it in you’re swallowing up every inch that he provides.

His hands grabbed both sides of your waist as he’s mercilessly pounding you from behind, feeling himself lose all self control after a few more sloppy hits against your heat. Even though you couldn’t directly see his facial expressions, you could just picture how pretty he looks in this moment. All sweaty, messy, disheveled hair, panting, muscles tightening and flexing— even that thing he does whenever he’s too focused on chasing his own high. The one where his eyebrows furrow upwards when he’s in pure, utter concentration.

His cock twitches whenever he hears you whine or beg for him, mocking all the dumb noises you make to send you into a further state of delirium. You felt like you were about to pass out when the acceleration of his hips drive into you, drool pooling from the corners of your mouth and dripping down to your chin, turning you into nothing but a brainless slut for him.

“So good, so so good!!” Your moans almost sounding like cries of help as you felt him balls deep in you, and even felt the recoil of your ass everytime he pounded into you. He was getting closer by the minute, watching himself disappear as he’s drilling ungodly amounts of his cock into you.

He can get real possessive in bed, wanting you to reaffirm who exactly you belong to. He already knows the answer, he just wants you to say it.

“Tell me you’re mine baby,” he rasps, hitting your walls precisely, feeling him bring a palm towards your right ass cheek to spank it, gripping it roughly as you sank your teeth into your bottom lip. “Only I get to ruin this pretty cunt, it’s all mine to destroy.”

“All yours Min-” you whimper, internally struggling to get a coherent sentence out, body trembling, unable to keep yourself stable. If it weren’t for him holding you in place you would’ve collapsed onto the bed by now.

“That’s right baby, only mine.”

Minho’s thrusts become weaker as he catches his breath, feeling the thread slowly unraveling within. He was about to burst any second, quickly pulling out to spill his seed all over your ass, pushing your body forward so he can get a better view of the scenery. He might’ve just came all over you but that doesn’t mean he was fully done with you yet. Sure you might be all sticky, overly sensitive, and albeit exhausted— but he wants to fuck you again and again until you physically couldn’t take it anymore.

“You really think I’m gonna stop at just one round? We’re not done until I say we are. I know you’ve got one more left in you, kitten.”

✵ CHANGBIN — ( on your tits )

I strike him as the type to be equally obsessed with all parts of your body, but he’s definitely got a preference of where likes to cum and it shows.

He himself isn’t sure if it’s the sight of his cum dripping down your cleavage or rather the possessive act of pulling out, only to cum onto your tits a moment later that he likes most, but he absolutely enjoys doing it. Especially if you’re kneeling in front of him, either wearing a cute little outfit or simply naked, and presenting your chest to him willingly after sucking him off— he’s a groaning, blushing mess, his hips stuttering as he coats your skin white and needy whines falling from his mouth.

Sometimes, the only way he’ll be able to cum is if he can have his cock between your pretty tits, it was his primary trigger in getting him to reach his climax. He can’t help it.. you just look so damn hot laying there all sweet for him, squeezing your tits together against his hard cock while he thrusts in between them.

“God..” he moaned out. “They’re so soft.. so perfect—” his breath caught in his throat, “could fuck your tits like this all night if you’d let me. You want me to, angel? Hm? Just look at them.. s’pretty and all mine.”

A loud grunt forces it’s way from his mouth as his head slightly falls back, but he couldn’t fully look away— not when you’re doing so good for him. Big, doe-like eyes staring up at him all innocently with his spit and precum on your chest acting as a makeshift lube, Changbin thought you looked you the prettiest like this. He was so far gone all he could think about was the soft, plushiness enveloping his dick in the most blissful way possible. He’s sorry for how hard he’s thrusting against your chest, but he wasn’t in the right state of mind right now, he was far too horny to think rationally; you feel too good all wrapped around his cock like this. Not to mention the cute little whimpers that you’d make as you work hard to hold them together against his force— you’re fucking spoiling him right now, god, he loves you so so much.

“Please binnie, wan’ your cum..” you’re begging for it at this point, wanting nothing more than to have his release spilling all over your bare chest, even your voice is tipping him further over the edge.

There’s only one way this was going to end, and that was by blowing several massive shots of his cum all over your boobs. Sticky, white ropes laced over your tits that’s now caked on your spit-slick skin. You looked so beautiful covered in his seed— so heavenly that he needs to sit back on your hips and admire it for a second.

He uses the tip of his cock to smear it around even more, gliding it over your nipples and prodding at the sensitive nubs. Chills running down his spine from that subtle stimulation, the view alone was enough to make his head spin. He doesn’t care how gross it is, he just wants to paint a pretty picture on them with his cum :((

“Fuck, princess, you’re so pretty like that; so gorgeous with my cum on your tits. Can’t believe you let me do this— you’re so good for me, please, babe—”

✵ HYUNJIN — ( in your mouth )

Enjoys cumming into your mouth or down your throat— he’s fine with both, though the latter is more convenient, given how the chance of you spilling anything is smaller. The sight of you swallowing his cum gives him an addicting power rush; he’ll even sometimes pull out after fucking you, only to reach his orgasm in your mouth instead of your cunt.

Hyunjin’s always so loud when you’re sucking him off too, (we love a vocal king!) just constantly praising and encouraging you to keep going. He’s so sensitive, he feels everything intensely. Shivers running along his spine as you spit on his cock to make it even messier, those pretty lips of yours working overtime to take more and more and more of him in. He’d unintentionally be pushing your head down further, making you gag around his length, feeling bad about it only for a second but when you’re still going at it all his worries instantly wash away.

He’ll never truly get over the way you look as you’re deepthroating him; just melts into a puddle of mush as you look up at him with nothing but adoration and obedience, solely devoted to making him feel as good as possible. Your sloppy mouth so wet and warm and welcoming, the feel of your hand squeezing his thigh so tightly, the sound of your wheezing, your choking, your gagging around his thick cock— it’s more than enough to make his brain short circuit.

“Gonna cum in that pretty mouth of yours baby.” He breathlessly pants, his mind all hazy, unable to think of anything but his imploding orgasm, “You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

All you could do in response was keep sucking, this time picking up your pace a little bit to indicate that you want it— scratch that, need to milk every last drop of him. He’s breathing heavier now, strings of broken curses and soft sighs of your name leaving his lips like they’ve been waiting for the chance to come out. Small beads of sweat began sticking to his forehead as he scrunches up his eyes and lets his mouth part open for a low, drawn out groan.

It only takes a couple more thrusts to the back of your throat and efficient bobs of your head for Hyunjin to tighten his grasp on the sheets beneath him, for the knot in his stomach to tighten and for all his muscles to tense up. You can feel his abs flexing beneath the soft linger of your hand that’s resting along his abdomen, and you can feel the pull and push of his thighs flexing when your other hand uses it to brace yourself— you know him oh so well, well enough to know the telltale signs of when he’s on the brink of his climax.

You were making him see stars by this point, rutting his hips forward as you do your best to swallow around him. His large hand keeps your head steady against him as he sits up, his cock throbbing and his balls tensing as you feel his hot cum shooting inside your mouth, down your throat, using you to his pleasure. You release his cock with a doting smile on your face, satisfied of the outcome whilst bringing up a hand to wipe the excess spit on your cheek. Your lips are glossy and drooling with saliva, your eyes are watery and your hair’s a mess, and you’re completely worn out, breathing heavy, ragged and deep.

When he’s feeling extra cruel, he makes you stick out your tongue after he came inside of your mouth, ordering you to hold it there purely for humiliation purposes— it’s your own fault for looking this adorably, really.

“Ah, that’s a good girl. You always take what I give you so willingly. Come on, show me that you swallowed everything— and, I must warn you, if you spit anything out, I’ll make you clean it up with your tongue.”

✵ HAN — ( on your face )

He would cum literally any and everywhere on you but especially on your face. Whenever you’re sucking his cock, facials were practically mandatory— he thinks you look the prettiest when you have milky strings of white dribbling down your face.

You looked so sinful like this, kneeling in front of Jisung as you take your precious time with him. You knew how sensitive his balls were, kissing them, fondling and squeezing them, popping them into your wet mouth, sucking and humming loudly and appreciatively; loving how whiny he gets, his face all red and blushy. He’s just the cutest thing ever ;(

You wanted to be gentle with him at first, flattening your tongue against his veiny shaft as you slowly fit more of him in. He’s wincing at the feel of your tongue circling around his girth and making sure to coat everything with your spit. You’re looking up at him through half-lidded eyes, mouth full of his cock while hollowing your cheeks to pull back, only leaving his tip in.

Jisung is also an unintentional head-pusher, but it wasn’t his fault that your mouth felt like a dream, the way your plump lips wrap so perfectly around the tip of his cock, stretching lewdly as your small hand wraps around the base of his thick shaft. It’s your fault that you spend so much time riling him up so bad, so bad that it’s painfully pleasurable when you wrap your lips around his flushed tip, swirling your tongue and gliding through his slit before taking him in completely, until the head of his cock hits the back of your throat. The sounds he makes are so fucking pretty, placing his hand on your head, pushing you down just a slight bit more.

Aside from his entire body tensing, and his cock twitching and pulsating hotly in your mouth, he gets even noisier. The tiny whimpers and soft pants only become louder, his gasps and moans growing with desperation, needy pleas of, “fuck, please don’t stop,” and, “shit, you’re so fucking good— shit, shit— shit,” are endlessly slipping from his lips. He’s close, you can tell, he’s making it blatantly obvious.

You’re bobbing your head up and down faster now, his tip repeatedly hitting against your throat before Jisung let out a gutteral groan, pulling out of your warm mouth. He’s viciously pumping his cock in front of your face while you’re opening your mouth as wide as you can to make sure you’re able to catch some of it on your tongue. His cum shoots out everywhere, on your face, the sheets, his thigh, even getting in your hair to which you just washed not even a few hours ago..

“M’sorry, baby, didn’t mean to—” his chest is heaving as he attempts to catch his breath, lightheaded after having such an intense orgasm. “—can’t control where it lands..”

From between his legs, you simply roll your eyes. “Don’t apologize Ji. I know you’re not actually sorry.”

Weakly, he chuckles, laughs a little, and reaches out a hand for you to take. “I’m a little sorry..” he admits. Pleased to see you take his hand regardless, he tightens his hold on it and pulls you up, letting you settle all comfortable on his lap. From your position, you’re left looking down on him. Post-orgasm Jisung (well, Jisung at any point in time, but mainly post-orgasm Jisung) is a beautiful sight indeed. Flushed cheeks and swollen, parted lips and hazy eyes and messy hair.

He’s just looks so— fuckable.

The warm feeling of his seed painted on your face was to die for, sinfully looking, almost perverted in a way. For a moment he stilled his movements before smearing his cum over your left cheek. You’re closing your eyes, relishing on the feeling of him before sliding back down to now his softened cock, putting it back in your mouth to get another taste of him. He’s all hypersensitive after cumming, he feels like he’s going to pass out, but there’s no way he could resist you.

“Still hungry for more of my cock after sucking me off like that? Fuck.. you really are insatiable.”

Bonus !! (bc I love him sm and he’s everything to me): He absolutely loses his shit when you use your hand to get him off— he likes to make a mess all over them, watching his cum drip down to your wrists but he licks it up so it won’t go to waste. He enjoys seeing you suck the creaminess off your fingers but he also likes to do it too, tasting his own delicious nut while having your cute little fingers in his mouth <333

✵ FELIX — ( on your thighs )

He’s absolutely enamored by you. Everything about you is nothing short of pure perfection in eyes— but his main weakness? Your thighs without a doubt.

Felix’s hands are always on your thighs, whether it’s intentional or not, he somehow finds his way near his favorite body part on you as if he were drawn to it like a magnet. Caressing them while driving in the car, discreetly tracing shapes on them under the table at some fancy restaurant, or firmly holding them open while he devours you— the one thing he adores the most, though, is when you’re at home relaxing and resting your legs over his lap so he can massage them while you read or watch TV together. But in all honesty… he just wants you to suffocate him with your pretty thighs or better yet, letting him cum on them.

He loves nothing more than to have his cock buried deep inside your cunt, thrusting into you like his life depends on it. Felix loves leaving hickeys all over your thighs too. He claims he can’t help himself, he just needs to sink his teeth into them when you’re splayed out underneath him on his bed. Kissing your thighs lovingly while your legs are thrown over his shoulders, the tenderness clashing with the way he pounds you into the mattress. Lives for how vocal you get for him, a disgruntled moan slipping out when he hears your breathy whimpers and moans as he finds your sweet spot.

Tonight was much different though. He was in a daze, completely hypnotized by the slow roll of your hips into his. If the grinding motion was enough to set him into overdrive, then each pulse of your walls around his cock was enough to make him feel like he could actually combust. But he doesn’t, he can’t bear the thought of not having your skin on his, absolutely positive that he’d let you ride him like this all night.

He can’t get enough of your thighs, especially when wearing those short little skirts that drive him crazy. He’d have you sliding down his aching cock, holding onto your thighs with a muffled groan. Even when you aren’t on top, he’s obsessed with the way they lock around him when he’s fucking you, holding him in. It slightly throws him off rhythm for a second, but he makes a valiant effort to keep going, hips stuttering against yours as he rocks deeper into you, barely able to pull out for each stroke.

“Mmph.. Lixie..” you moan a bit louder when his hands spread to your ass as you ride him, your body falling limp against his when he grips the muscle a little tighter to stop the motion of your hips. The sluggish roll of your hips now becoming more desperate as your pleasure began to wash over you. “M’so close, be my good boy and finish with me.”

“Fuck y/n..” he curses under his breath, nuzzling his nose deeper into your neck as he pulls you in closer, breathing in your intoxicating scent, his mind absolutely fogged by thoughts of you and only you. “I’ll be good.. promise.. just don’t want this to end, need you all night.”

At this rate, it may actually be all night, as neither of you can exactly remember how long ago it was since you climbed onto his lap claiming you wanted to “take care of him” tonight. After all, Felix has been such a good boy for you all week; he deserves a little pampering in the form of you pinning him down to the bed and riding him until you both see stars. He’s too entranced by the curves and dips of your body and the way your features twist into the most beautiful expressions of pleasure as you lazily rotate your hips in a figure-8 pattern.

He’s has been mumbling rambles of praises all night, unable to form a coherent sentence due to the way his mind is clouded by you. He’s absolutely consumed by the way you feel wrapped around him, loving that he can watch you lose yourself on his cock with each languid, self-guided roll of your hips. He’s a wreck. A complete, utter train wreck.

It almost feels as if all the oxygen has been sucked out of the air for Felix, the hazy fog that clouds his head only makes his mind whirl more as he watches you fall apart on top of him. So beautiful, so perfect, and all his. He will always take whatever you give him; you have him wrapped so tightly around your finger and he swears he’ll always be your good boy if these are benefits.

The orgasm that you had been leisurely chasing was now near, unable to suppress the euphoric ebbing feeling that made your walls contract in delight. He messily jerks his cock, sporadically cumming everywhere from your sensitive clit to your plush thighs. He always apologizes for the mess by fucking your cunt with his tongue after, cleaning you off in the process.

“God, you’re so fucking hot. Could cum on these pretty thighs for the rest of my life and I’d die happy.”

✵ SEUNGMIN — ( in your panties )

When you two first started dating, you expected him to lean somewhat more on the vanilla side as he never struck you as the type to be overly sexual but you were dearly mistaken.

Little did you know that your boyfriend was lowkey a huge pervert, this man could sniff your panties all damn day— no seriously. The smell of you intoxicates him, sending flashes of dopamine through his receptors, even using them whilst he jerks off to one of the many photos of you that he has in his collection. Post-nut clarity always hits him the hardest right after, starting to feel some guilt for ruining your favorite pair of undies, but it isn’t like he could just buy you some new ones anyway!

Once you discovered this little fetish of his, Seungmin didn’t even bother to hide it anymore. Whenever the two of you would be intimate, it was almost routine for him to simply push your panties to the side, his tip beaming an angry, bright red and leaking with so much precum, sliding it against your saturated folds. A shudder runs through you as the friction just gets so much stronger, just as you needed it. He was grinding into your pussy, his tip eagerly pushing into your entrance, but never fully inside of you, testing your limits, making you tremble and whimper continuously.

He kept moving, his thrusts becoming sloppy and less controlled, giving you more and more. His hot tip couldn’t stop leaking, mixing his wetness with yours when he bumped into your clit, making you see stars. Just before you could even reach your high, he grabbed your hand and moved it away from touching your clit, guiding his tip inside of you with heavy pants, the feeling of relief almost washed over you, but he stopped. With only his blunt cockhead stretching you out he was frantically jerking himself off, moaning and praising you before he finishes.

That’s when you feel something sticky and warm is oozing into your panties and Seungmin pulled the fabric back once he pulls out, drops of his white release your already soaking your panties. His hands felt so soft, delicate against your skin when he readjusts your little dress, palming your clothed pussy to feel the mess he made between your legs, panties now soaked with loads of his cum.

He knows how dirty and disgusting he is, but does he seem to care? Absolutely not. It’s all part of the reason on why he finds it so ridiculously hot. He likes seeing you shuffle uncomfortably as the warm liquid rests against your pussy lips, making you walk around for the rest of the day with them on. To which all you do is complain.

“Seungie.. m’so sticky..” you whine to him while you’re out running errands together, but he only mocks you for complaining, cupping your cheek with his hand. His thumb brushes over your lip and coos at how you suck on his digit instinctively.

“I know, baby. I’ll clean you up when we get back home, okay?” He promises, discreetly moving his other hand up the hem of your dress to push his fingers flush against your hole, plunging his cum further into you.

Later in the day, he finds himself rubbing your clit through the fabric, using his previous release as a lubricant for the act. As much as you try to deny it, you find the filthy act just as sexy. That is why you keep letting him do it.

“Feel so dirty..” you pout from the fact you’ve been walking around with soiled undergarments for hours now.

“Aww, my poor baby. I’m so sorry I just needed you so bad.” He apologizes, sealing your lips into a kiss while rutting against him making the most pathetic sounds as Seungmin’s mess gets rubbed into you. “Go ahead and use me, doll. Payback for me being such a meanie.”

“So mean,” you moan, rocking on him while he holds you close and whispers sweet words in your ear. “Gonna cum... need to cum...”

“Shit. Gotta cum for me already?” He asks and you nod desperately. His hands tighten at your sides and he pushes you down onto his thigh. “That’s okay, princess. You can cum.”

“You’re such a dirty little slut. Love to act all innocent when we’re in public but you secretly love it when I make a mess in your panties, hm?”

✵ JEONGIN — ( inside )

Another fellow creampie enjoyer, ever since you let him hit it raw once he’s never looked back— he refuses to fuck you any other way.

Jeongin could feel every bit of sanity he has left slipping away the minute his cock is greeted with your warm walls, your cunt tightening around his length, sucking him in greedily. You can clearly hear his breathing getting heavier, the low grunts that leave his mouth once he fully bottoms out. You’re grabbing a fistful of the sheets beneath you to keep you stable, whimpering when he picks up his pace, jaw dangling open as he’s got your hair in a tight grip.

“Fuck.. you’re perfect.” He murmurs against your skin, his cock slamming into you with utmost force— all you could do is moan out in pleasure, so overwhelmed as you sank down further into the mattress.

He fucked you harder, hips colliding with your ass in a merciless rhythm, bringing his hand down lower, toying with your sensitive clit to make your eyes roll to the back of your skull. “I-innie,” you cried, broken and desperate, trying to say something, anything, but the words shattered every time he pounded into you. He knows you’re way too fucked out to speak, and that’s the whole point because he isn’t stopping— even when you’re begging for him to slow down, he won’t stop until you cream his cock.

You were a mess. Growing weaker and weaker, lips all puffy and worn out as you drooled onto the sheets, you made a grave mistake by trying to run from him— which only made him bully his cock into you deeper. A couple more strokes to your weeping cunt and Jeongin feels like he’s going to bust a nut already, he doesn’t tune down the harshness though, only upping it and focusing on painting your walls in the end. You were so completely full to the brim, his thickness hitting your g-spot just right, your arms ready to give out under your body as you whined and begged for him to let you cum.

You were caught by surprise when he suddenly pulls out and flips you over on your back. His large hand immediately snaking up to your chest to play with your tits, drawing a tiny bit of spit on them to create a string saliva that connects to his mouth. His other free hand presses down on your stomach, looking down as he sees himself thrusting back into you. You spasmed underneath him, muscles contracting, mind all numbed out, continuously moaning and mewling. Your needy hole clenching tighter around him as if it wasn’t currently being stuffed with his fat cock.

“Mmph— gonna cum, soso close!” He hisses, drilling into you harshly, “let go for me baby, cum with me.” You feel his cock throbbing as he’s helping ride out your orgasm with deep strokes that makes your vision almost fade to black. The once steady pace he upheld becoming more erratic and sloppier, fucking you so dumb until you’re full of cum.

With his permission, you finally let go. Legs violently twitching as you feel your release and his at the same time, plastering your insides with pearlescent ropes of white. He remains inside for a while, waiting for the tremors of your orgasm to pass, until eventually pulling out. He loves watching his cum leak out of you, it’s honestly his favorite part about sex with you; he loves it so much in fact he springs back up not even ten minutes later to do it all over again.

“Damn, baby, you’re so damn tight around me. M’gonna fill you up so good— yeah, that’s a good girl. Gonna have you dripping with my cum, doll, don’t you worry.”

finally back to posting more new headcanons, we cheered guyss ٩(๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵๑)۶ i rlly hope this wasn’t too bad shgfsgsg i wrote most of this like a week ago and never bothered to proofread so if there’s any spelling mistakes that’s why.. but nonetheless i hope you enjoyed these and leave a like, comment, and/or reblog if you want ! (no presh) ♡︎

[ohisms]

✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊.    (  a collection of various  location prompts centered around time & weather.  feel free to adjust as desired.  )

[ 1AM ] the stoop of a brightly lit psychic shop, pondering haven from the rain. [ 2AM ] the [ lobby / room ] of a run-down motel during a tumultuous storm. [ 3AM ] a dark graveyard thick with petrichor, well beyond visiting hours. [ 4AM ] an empty, rusty gas station nearly flooding with rainwater. [ 5AM ] a cabin in the frozen woods, large fire raging under the hearth. [ 6AM ] a bus stop hazily lit by the rising sun, earth smelling of petrichor. [ 7AM ] a crowded coffee shop, patrons in a rush to escape the morning rain. [ 8AM ] a serene camping site overlooking a valley, air humid & fresh. [ 9AM ] a diner smelling of breakfast food as rain patters on the window. [ 10AM ] a walled-in garden full of flowers, just as the afternoon heat sets in. [ 11AM ] an empty public playground, equipment hot from the sun. [ 12PM ] the middle of a sweltering outdoors shopping center. [ 1PM ] the side of the highway after your car breaks down from the heat. [ 2PM ] a bustling farmer's market ripe with produce, unhindered by the rain. [ 3PM ] a city sidewalk gloomy with mist & countless puddles. [ 4PM ] the forested perimeter of a vast lake, cold from snow melt. [ 5PM ] a [ restaurant / diner ], interior lights flickering under a fierce storm. [ 6PM ] a car interior, passengers stuck on a dangerously snowy & dark road. [ 7PM ] an outdoors event as the heat backs off, full of laughter & live music. [ 8PM ] the long queue of a club, impatient patrons stuck in the rain. [ 9PM ] the threshold of an apartment, knocking to be let out of the hailstorm. [ 10PM ] a windy beach past public hours, grains of sand mimicking the stars. [ 11PM ] the backseat of a car parked in the pouring rain on a lonely road. [ 12AM ] a pier on the cold, misty waterfront as fireworks are let off.

[ervotica]

i just saw someone talk about pornstar!patrick and my third eye opened up

shut up i’ll die actually

warnings; smut, 18+, fem!reader, pornstar!patrick, p in v sex, allusions to reader being eaten out, patrick is hot <3

a/n; i’m insane for this actually. pls send more pornstar!patrick asks i’ll beg for them 🥹

this is him <3

thinking of a self made pornstar!patrick, started off making solo videos of him jerking off in the dirty backseat of his car. utterly surprised when viewers couldn’t get enough of him and he earned enough money to make a living off of making porn of himself.

he starts inviting other men, women - anyone who shows interest in him and his videos - to shoot with him, and soon he has a plethora of people lining up for a chance to fuck him, even if it’s on camera.

he bypasses the entire queue when he catches wind of you, a soft little thing with a mean streak he so desperately wants to explore, and he’s running straight to your messages to set a date.

he pays for your transport and your stay — a five star hotel that is far more expensive than anywhere you’ve been in your entire life.

it doesn’t feel orchestrated when the camera starts filming. it doesn’t feel like an act as he works you up with his hot breath over your cunt and two thick fingers that sink into your weeping hole. it doesn’t feel fake when you bury your fingers into his hair and tug, relishing in the way he moans and ruts his hips into the plush bed beneath you.

and it certainly doesn’t feel fake when he makes you cum harder than you ever have before.

his viewers all envy you, want to be you, when he folds your legs to your chest and feeds you his cock inch by inch. it’s a tight fit, that’s for sure, but you’ve never felt more full, more stretched in your life, and you fucking love it.

the way the head of his cock, a visceral red, notches against your entrance as he sinks in in in, further than you thought possible until the weeping slit burrows against your cervix, the way you keen and clutch at his shoulders as he murmurs praises because you’re being so good, baby, just a little more now.

he’s barely one thrust in before you’re cumming around him with a shudder and a cry, and it’s stronger than anything you’ve ever felt in your life, so easy the way he takes you apart because he’s already memorised your cunt, already knows how to fuck it.

and he’s hooking his arms beneath the dip of your spine, dragging you up to meet his hot mouth in a greedy kiss, all tongues and teeth and fire and passion, and that paired with the way he’s fucking you - the filthy roll of his hips that never slows, never stops - is enough to have you cumming round him again.

he fucks like he’s in love with you and he hates you all at once, spears you open on his cock and keeps you spread out beneath him, teases and taunts until you growl with frustration and claw at him. it makes him laugh, a low, gravelly sound against your lips as he concedes and pistons his hips into you with more fervour than before.

once you’re well and truly fucked out, you crawl between his legs and wrap your mouth around him, and he’s sure he meets god.

and then the camera comes off, and a switch flips in him as he watches you laying on the bed, breathing heavily, eyes closed, a sleepy smile on your face.

patrick zweig might just be in love.

the video skyrockets in views and profits, climbing straight to the most popular he’s ever made. viewers beg him to keep you as a permanent fixture within his channel. and, well, who would he be if he didn’t give the people what they want?

-

challengers taglist; @diorrfairy @igotmajordaddyissues @xotwod-jade @imbabycowboy @cloudnitee @hobocatton

[pomefioredove]

Heyo how are you? I hope you are well! I love your writing so much 💕💖

May I get a chocolate cookie, #2, with frosting, chocolate chip, and chocolate drizzle, please? I'm biased for chocolate and Chenya, lol. I look forward to more of your writing they truly make my day <33

I always hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I believe you may have misclicked the number. NOW, normally I would write che'nya anyway, but unfortunately no one else requested for fellow and I like him so much. che'nya x reader in the queue for TOMORROW- stay tuned for that!!

order #2, chocolate with frosting, chocolate chips, chocolate drizzle

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ fool me

summary: ramshackle au's spin on marrying for tax benefits tropes: only one bed, fake dating, exes to lovers characters: fellow additional info: romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is adult-aged yuu, ramshackle AU so jumpscare warning for rollo, slightly suggestive setup, but this is cuddles and fluff, like ridiculous fluff

You were, to put it simply, never supposed to see him again.

That was it. Twenty-four hours at Playful Land, one ill-informed fling, and you would never again meet the eyes of Fellow Honest.

A few-hours long awful affair, and then you were free to shower away the shame and fall asleep in your own uncomfortable bed. Alone.

...But, then, he was on your doorstep in the pouring rain, looking perfectly pitiful, Gidel hiding from the downpour under his coat.

You had grit your teeth and told him two days.

It's been two months.

"I still don't understand," Rollo Flamme says, studiously scrubbing the kitchen floor. He cleans when he's frustrated. "What do you see in that man?"

You wish you knew. Having Fellow and Gidel at Ramshackle was more complicated than Rollo- he, of course, had completed the proper paperwork for a transfer semester. Fellow was twenty-six, unemployed, and, honestly, had no business being anywhere near a school.

"...He's nice to me," you say, which isn't altogether a lie. Fellow had warmed right up to your hospitality.

Rollo scowls. "You could do much better for yourself,"

You shrug. Not really, you think, but you're not in the mood for an argument with him. Not today.

Of course, Fellow couldn't just decide to stay. After his two-day grace period was up, you had to think of some other reason for him to be there.

You're not proud of what you came up with.

"Good morning, honey," Fellow says, waltzing into the kitchen (like he owned the place) and kissing your forehead. Rollo mumbles something under his breath and starts scrubbing faster.

"Morning," you nod.

He hums, and kicks his feet up at the rickety kitchen table. Fellow had never once commented on, or complained of, Ramshackle's sorry state- the rotting wood, the peeling wallpaper, the smell of mold and mildew. Rollo had already written the headmage several strongly worded letters about your living conditions. Fellow had sunk right in.

You glance at him. "Where's Gidel?"

"Sleeping," Fellow says, picking his teeth with his pinky. "He's not used to the soft mattress yet, it keeps him up."

"Wh- soft mattress?" Rollo scoffs, scrubbing so fast you think the floor may catch fire from the friction.

You try not to stare. "Is the guest room- I mean, is your room, uncomfortable?"

"Nah, he's just not used to comfort,"

You and Rollo share a look, the boy silently begging you not to give in to whatever Fellow is trying to squeeze out.

You ignore him.

"...My mattress is firm," you offer. "Gidel can have my bed."

Fellow grins, giving you a good look at his fangs. "Aw, could he? How sweet,"

Rollo glares at you. You ignore that, too.

"But... ah, then I suppose you're out of a bed," Fellow tsks. "Can't have that, can we? Well, I suppose you can share mine. It's the least I could do, after how welcoming you've been, and all."

Rollo throws off his rubber cleaning gloves and stands. "Certainly not. I suggest you stay downstairs, on the sofa, and the Prefect will have your room,"

Fellow feigns offense, setting a well-worn gloved hand over his heart. "Well, look who woke up on the wrong side of the pulpit today!"

You rub your eyes. You're not sure if you can handle another argument between the two of them.

"It's fine," you tell Rollo (but it does little to calm him). "I don't mind sharing a bed with him."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Fellow smirks. Rollo clenches his fists and you force yourself between them.

"We can talk about this later," you assure, knowing full-well you wouldn't be seeing either of them all day, if you could help it.

"I'm not going to bite-"

You have to hit Fellow with your pillow to keep him on his side of the bed. He falls with a dramatic fwump, groaning as if you'd shot him.

"So I'm not allowed to show you my appreciation, is that it?"

"Is that what you call it?"

"Don't be dirty," Fellow scolds, sitting up. "I only meant that you deserve to be doted on. As much as you dote on others, at least."

You scoff. "I don't... dote,"

He scoots closer, taking the plush pillow from your hands and tossing it aside.

"Fine, then you're a pushover. But even pushovers deserve to be pampered sometimes,"

He wraps his arms around your waist and drags you into his lap. You let him, for reasons you don't quite understand yourself.

"There. See? I'm not going to eat you," he says, patting your head as if you were a puppy. "If we're going pretend we're in love, we should at least act the part, you know."

"You're a better actor than I am," you mumble, and he laughs.

"Aw, I'm a better actor than everyone," he pinches your cheeks between his pointers and his thumbs. "But that's no reason not to try."

"I'm doing my best!"

"Really? Then you could at least pretend not to hate me,"

You tsk as you're toted around like a toy, trapped against his chest. At least he's warm. His arms are securely around your sides, his chin on your shoulder.

"I don't hate you," you mutter.

Fellow scoffs. "Coulda fooled me... guess you're a better actor than I thought,"

He flips you onto your front, stomach-down on the soft mattress, and his whole weight on yours.

"You looked stiff today," he says. "A little pressure ought to sort that out."

You have no response to that. The bed in your room is the most uncomfortable in Ramshackle, after all. And Fellow is warm and soft and you haven't felt so safe in your own dorm since...

...Well, ever.

You kinda hate how that works.

He kisses the side of your head, as if trying to keep you from thinking too much. You can sort of hear the fwish, fwish, fwish of his tail wagging.

"Are you happy with yourself?" you mumble. Fellow smiles into the crook of your neck, and, finally, speaking with some honesty:

"Very. Very happy,"

[corrosionbunni]

The Secret to Happiness

One shot

Summary: After being found wandering empty roads, you’ve found home at a prison. You’ve grown a reputation of being a constant beam of happiness. After a spontaneous night of drinking and a game of truth or dare, one question burns bright. What is your secret?

Fluff/slight angst

Word count: 1443

Pairing: Daryl x female reader (or not female only gendered term used once towards the reader is ‘miss’)

Setting: prison era - season 4

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, cigarettes

A/n: this is my first time writing in years, but it came to me in a dream. It’s also partially proof read but done so with the lack of sleep and the lack of glasses.

The night is cool as you sit cross-legged in the grass. Your skin heated from the heavy amount of Jack Daniels you have already downed. It’s safe to say, you are border-lining drunk. A constant smile is spread across your lips as you look at the group around you, illuminated by the small fire you’ve gathered around.

Maggie sat across from you. With one arm planted behind her to keep her up, Glenn lying on his side beside her, hand placed over hers. Sasha was on the other side of Maggie, with Rick beside her. On the other side of Glenn, Tyreese sat with an arm around Karen.

And finally, Beside you was Daryl. Silently taking sips of his whiskey.

“Okay!” Sasha chuckles, having just answered a question of ‘truth or dare’. “Who’s next? Daryl?”

“Nah, I’m not playin’”

“I know!” Maggie speaks up from where she’s sat, “How about little miss sunshine over here” She gestures towards you.

You lean forward slightly, grinning wide at Maggie. “Alright, give it to me!”

“Truth or dare?”

You cross one arm across your chest, the other being upwards as you tap a finger to your chin.

“Hmm. Let me think.. dare. ‘Cause I ain’t no pussy!” Laughter is heard from around the group. You keep smiling Maggie’s way. Drunk. You are definitely drunk.

“Okay,” Mirroring your grin. “I dare you… to kiss the hottest person here.”

“What are we, high schoolers?” You laugh, “Either way, I can’t do that. I’m already certain they can’t stand me, and I don’t want to do anything that’ll make them hate me more.” You say giggling, taking another sip.

“Okay then,” Maggie shifts slightly, “what’s the secret to being so happy all the time?”

“Well the thing is…” you draw your words out. still smiling wide, moving to position yourself on your knees, you can feel the cool grass making an indent on your knee where a hole has formed in your worn out jeans. “Secrets, are secret for a reason.” You beam widely.

“it’s the game, choose one.” Sasha chimes in.

You debate with yourself for a moment. Everyone awaiting your response.

“well, in that case.”

You turn to your side and place a hand under Daryl’s chin, stabling yourself as you place a short, yet sweet, kiss on his cheek.

Silence.

A surge of electricity goes straight through your chest as you quickly stand to your feet. “Well!” -anxiety- You exclaim, clapping your hands together, “I’d say that’s my queue to head off.” -panic- You brush off some grass that stayed sticking to the skin of one knee peaking through your jeans.

Everyone stuck in a trance of stunned silence.

“Goodnight!” You give a wave and make your leave.

Heart racing, your legs pull you across the grass, up through the gates. You don’t realise you’ve stopped until you’re planted on a bench in the courtyard.

You sit in a rigid silence for a few minutes. Internally screaming at yourself.

Why would you do that?

You can’t believe your actions.

You’ve had a crush on Daryl for a while now. But you never had any plans to act on it.

You were certain he could not stand you.

Anytime the two of you were left alone he’d not utter a single word. He wouldn’t even look at you.

And then there were the times you’d say something in your overly happy tone, he’d shake his head and you swear you could hear him scoff.

It seemed like he would avoid you at every chance he got, so it’s a surprise when the body that sits next to you belongs to the man himself.

You stay silent. Staring ahead. For once, not smiling.

Your peripheral vision allows you to see Daryl lighting up a cigarette. Taking a deep breathe in, exhaling the grey smoke.

He clears his throat slightly.

“Ya think I hate ya?” His voice low.

You nod, not knowing if he’s even looking at you to see, as you keep your stare ahead.

“How could I not? It doesn’t seem like you enjoy my presence very much.” Your voice is also low, a little defeated. “You won’t even talk to me.”

“Nah, I don’ hate ya. S’just- you’re so damn happy. It’s blindin’. Your blindin’.”

You don’t know what to say. So you don’t say anything. The smell of his cigarette wafting through the air.

“So wha’s the secret?”

“Hm?”

“Ta happiness.”

“Oh.” You let a small breathy laugh, looking down shaking your head.

“Uhm… I guess,” You pause, thinking for a second. “I Uhm, I don’t really know.”

Your voice gets quiet. “If I’m being honest,” you start picking at the frayed fabric of your jeans, “I don’t think I’ve ever truely felt happiness. It started as a way to distract myself from feeling any of the bad things. I somehow convinced myself that if I was going to put energy into anything, it may as well be a smile.” Daryl stays quiet beside you, “and it sorta just stuck.”

You finally turn your head to look him, but he’s already looking at you. The eye contact you hold felt heavy.

“Plus,” you break the eye contact to to stare ahead, “I think it’s better to have everyone see me endlessly happy than have them see me for what I really am.”

You both stay silent for a second before Daryl speaks up “And wha’s that?”

You turn your head to regain eye contact, your voice comes out soft, while with a small, a sad smile you state “a truely broken person.”

The two of you stay staring at each other, the faint sound of laughter can be heard from the group as a slight breeze carries the noise. Daryl bites his lip in that way he does, as his eyes flicker between yours and anywhere but you, simultaneously.

You clear your throat “I also want to say sorry.” “What for?” “For kissing you. I know it was just on the cheek, but still. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so I am sorry”

“nah,” he shakes his head slightly. “Don’t be.” He moves his gaze ahead of him. “Was nice”

you feel your chest flutter for moment.

Staring at him, a lopsided grin growing on your face. “Yeah?”

He gives you a side glance before nodding again “yeah.”

With a new found confidence, carried by the work of Jack Daniels still in your system, your usual cheery persona returns.

“Well, if you liked that, I know a better place.”

He turns his head to you, confusion littering his expression.

“Better place?”

Your lips stretch into a wide closed mouth smile, as you gently tap your lips.

His eyes widen slightly, staring at where your finger now rests softly upon your lips.

“Would that be okay?” You ask, softly, but still confident. His body is a still as ever, eyes lifting to make eye contact once again.

He softly nods.

You turn your body to him, taking the hand that had once been pressing a finger to your lips, and use it to rest gently against his left cheek. His eyes flutter shut as he ever so slightly leans into your touch.

Your other hand moving down to rest on the bench infront of you to aid you in leaning closer to him.

You stop just in front of his face, looking to his still closed eyes and letting out a faint breath, before your own fall shut as you close the gap. Lips pressed together, gentle.

One singular kiss causing your whole body to send signals of pure joy throughout your entirety.

You part, faces still close, eyes still shut. The soft exchange age of air passing through both of your lips, the smell of whiskey and tobacco fill your nose.

He reaches a hand up to hold you. His index finger lay just below your ear, as your jaw rests just at the base of his thumb. Pulling you back in. This time the both of you lips move together, slowly, softly.

You both stop, lips still touching. Hands still placed on either one’s face. Slowly pulling away your face away, eyes opening.

The pair of you stare at each other, not saying anything.

Hands drops as you move back to your original position, both staring ahead. A small smile stuck in place.

Beside you, you hear a soft chuckle. You turn your head to look at him “what?”

He looks at you with the faintest smile, “nothin’.. just.” He lets out another chuckle as his smile grows a little more.

“Im thinking’ I just found my secret to happiness.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Roads Untraveled 1

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

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, pregnancy, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: Single and pregnant, you discover a super soldier in the dumpster but he might not be hero you think he is. 

[This is a rewrite of a series of the same name which I removed a couple years ago]

Characters: Silverfox!Steve Rogers

Note: I finally did this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

‘When he went away  The blues walked in and met me  Oh, yeah if he stays away  Old rocking chair’s gonna get me  All I do is pray...’ 

You sway to the melody as you wipe dry the last plate. You set it in the rack as Etta James’ soulful crooning wafts around the kitchen. Just the simple task of washing the dishes has you out of breath. You can no longer hum along as you’re suddenly light headed with sweat speckled across your brow. Even the breeze drifting in through the open window can’t cool the constant heat brewing within you. 

You brace your lower back as you reach for the dish towel and pop open the cupboard. The music drones to silence as the next some in queue loads. Your rounded stomach presses to the counter as you take a mug and dry it inside and out. Strange, you don’t remember the song starting like that; the strange warbling noise much unlike Marvin Gaye’s rich tones. 

You set the mug on the shelf and back up. Another noise peaks your attention, too tinny to be a snare. You rub your stomach mindlessly as you sling the cloth over your shoulder. You waddle across the tile to the folding table beneath the window. You tap pause on your phone and the bluetooth speaker goes silent. 

Your fingers pick the damp fabric away from your bump. These days you can’t avoid getting soaked. Even as you can’t forget about the burden of your condition, you’re still oblivious to how it gets in the way until it does. You sigh as you listen for another clue. 

A pained deep grunt floats up from below. Distant but decisive, another rustle beneath the unexpected noise. You lean over the table, a hand on the ledge as you push the pane higher. You bend, stomach pressed to the speaker, and peer down. You expect another dumpster diver searching for empties to trade in; rather you meet a most unexpected sight. 

There is a man in the dumpster, alright, but he isn’t moving. From there, you can’t see very clearly. You squint at the figure strewn among the trash but the zigzag of the fire escape obscures your eye line. 

You shouldn’t go and see. Not only is it a lot of effort, but it’s dangerous. You shouldn’t be wandering into alleys to check on strangers in dumpsters. You don’t know any good reason someone might be swimming in garbage. Nor do you think they would want to be bothered.  

Still, the prickling in your neck urges you to do something. There’s just something so peculiar about the angle of the arm you can see clearer than the rest of the body. At least they’re moving, even if they sound agonized. 

You take your phone and untether it from the bluetooth speaker. You unlock it and keep your thumb ready to dial out. You move as quickly as you can, not very, and waddles along the back of the couch into the entry way. You take your keys from the hook near your door and step into your cushy slides. 

You turn back the latch and leave the door unlocked behind you. The slides shift on your swollen feet as you rush down to the elevator. God, your back hurts. You try not to lean too far back as it only adds to the pain. You need a belly belt but they’re so darn expensive. 

You’re out of breath as you step on and turn to watch the numbers count down. You’re still panting as you reach the lobby and push through the front doors, leaning into the heavy grated iron until it creaks loudly. You clamour down the steps to even ground and your hips pang. 

You put your hand under your stomach, trying to lift it and ease the pressure in your hips. You blow out between your lips as you have to slow down. You shuffle across the grass and into the paved lobby. The stink of the trash brings you back to those early days of morning sickness. And afternoon sickness. And night sickness. 

You try not to inhale too deeply as you step between the brick buildings. You bring your phone up, ready to hit those three digits in a heartbeat. You should’ve done so already. Even if you do, it’ll take hours for anyone to come out here. 

You stop and listen a few steps from the dumpster. You don’t hear anything now. You look up at the sky, dimming towards evening in a mixture of pink and blue, the moon peeking palely through the hue. You grip your phone tight, keys jangling with your movement as you continue forward. 

“Hello?” You call out, “is someone in there?” You linger near the corner of the dumpster, the trash reeking in your nostrils, “do you need help?” 

No answer. You stare up, wondering how you might see inside. If you weren’t built like a keg, you might be able to see from the lower level of the fire escape but you can’t even make it one rung. You blink and call out again. 

“Hello? Are you okay?” 

You wait for a response. Silence again. Maybe they found their way out on their own. You huff. So much for all that. All you’ve done is added to the pain in your arches. You turn on your heel and a groan gurgles and plastic crinkles noisily. 

You stop again, wavering, and peer back over your shoulder. A hand appears over the tops of the dumpsters edge and grips it. You face the large metal bin as the knuckles strain within the stained brown leather, fingertips poking out nakedly, blood and dirty tinged across the flesh. A long grunt follows as the figure drags himself to look over the top. 

“Sir, are you--” you begin, voice catching at the sight of the cowl and the man’s square jaw. The white star on his chest stuns you. It’s him. Everyone knows that uniform, that face, even under his helmet. New York’s own Captain America. 

You gape as the super soldier strains and swings himself out of the dumpster with one arm. His other is hanging limply as his feet hit the pavement. His knees crack and buckle. He drops down onto them and hisses. 

“Captain America?” You utter dumbly. 

He puts his fist to the ground and leans on his arm. He hangs his head and heaves. He drags a leg forward, planting his foot, and makes himself stand. He pushes his shoulders back and winces, reaching to cradle his dangling arm. 

“Steve,” he rasps, “goddamn.” 

You don’t expect the obscenity. Not from him. He leans against the dumpster and turns his chin up. He gnashes his teeth as he grips his arm and jerks, moving the heavy bin with his effort. The pop of his shoulder is sickening as he growls tightly. He stomps his foot and as he shakes out the arm he just put back into place. 

He reaches up and peels off his cowl as he puts his head straight. He looks at you as he wipes the streak of blood from lip to chin. His blond locks are streaked silver and his face is lined. He looks much older than the magazine covers and the TV screens. The magic of editing, right? 

He swipes the sweaty hair from his forehead and huffs. 

“Steve,” you rest your phone on your stomach, “are you okay?” 

He pushes himself away from the dumpster and puffs, “I’m fine. Just... a hiccup.” 

You stare at him. He looks tired and worn. You believe him when he says he’s okay. He's a super soldier and the world has seen his many feats. Yet he looks completely hollow. 

“Are you sure? I could call someone or...” you step forward and point to the slash that borders chest and shoulder, “you should clean that out, shouldn’t you?” 

He looks down and grimaces, “had worse. I got comms. HQ doesn’t care about a few scratches.” 

He goes to step forward and stumbles slightly. He snarls and kicks his foot into the gravel. He wiggles his knee and bends to rub the joint. 

“I...” your mouth opens and closes. This isn’t the man you’ve seen in the media. He's not smiling and golden and shining. Still, he’s the Captain. “I live above,” you gesture upward, “I could help... or maybe you can just... sit for a little bit. Get yourself straight?” 

He looks at you. As if for the first time. His forehead smooths as the tension eases from his jaw. His gaze slowly crawls down to his stomach and you see the dimple in his cheek. 

“Your husband okay with that? I’m a bit of a mess,” his tone is lighter as he fixes his grip on his cowl. 

“Oh no, I don’t have--” you chew your lip and look at the brick wall, “it’s just me. But I have first aid kit and learned to stitch in summer camp. I think I can still remember how.” 

He glances around and nods, “got a back door?” 

“Yeah, it’s... past you,” you nod in his direction. 

He pivots stiffly and cranes to see around the dumpster. You near him and your keys jingle again. You follow him to the metal door with the glass window and you shove the key in and twist. You pull it open a few inches. It’s heavier than the front door. He grabs it and wrenches it all the way back. 

“Thanks,” you murmur. “There’s an elevator.” 

“Hm, fewer people see me, the better,” he sniffs as the door clanks behind him. 

“It might take me a while,” you warn, “I’m slow.” 

“What floor. I’ll meet you,” he offers. 

“Sure, it’s three.” 

“Number?” 

“310.” 

“I’ll find it,” he states and marches towards the stair sign. 

You go to catch the elevator, stewing in disbelief on your ascent. You step off and continue on to your apartment. He’s already there. He stands with his hand on the frame, looking over his shoulder as you waddle down the hall towards him. 

“It’s unlocked,” you say. 

He opens it and waits for you. You thank him as you enter and he follows. He locks it and lingers behind you. You put your hand to the wall as you slip off your slides. He gently lays his cowl on the corner table and bends to unlace his boots. You hang the keys on the hook and place your phone on the small table. 

He leaves his dirtied boots on the mat and limps forward. You stand in the open doorway of the living room and peek back at him. He looks around reluctantly. 

“Please, sit down,” you insist and wave through the doorway before you pass through. 

“I...” he begins and you hear his uneven gait down the hallway. “I don’t want to dirty your couch.” 

“I have a steam cleaner,” you assure. “Sit, I’ll get the kit.” 

He stares, his eyes once more scanning the space. Does he think this is a trip? That you’re some covert agent who all too conveniently found him? That’s absurd. Look at you. 

You shrug off that ridiculous idea and cross to the kitchen. You open several drawers before you remember it’s in the bathroom. Of course. Your brain likes to play games these days. You grab the metal tin from under the sink and return to Steve.  

He pulls off his gloves and balls them on the side table next to the couch. You come around the other side of the couch and sit, leaving lots of space between you. You squeeze the kits as you’re once more out of breath. 

“You okay?” He turns the question on you. 

“I’m not the one bleeding. Just pregnant,” you smile. 

You balance the kit on your stomach as you lean back. You sanitize a needle and weave it with surgical thread. You put that aside and fish out an alcoholic swap. You shift the kit aside and push on the back of the couch as you try to sit forward. You shake and he helps you, a humbling assistance. 

“First,” you turn to him, “we’ll see how deep it is,” you tear open the swap, “can I...” 

“One sec,” he dips his fingers into the fabric and tears the sleeve, renting the fabric like tissue. His arm is thick and well-toned despite the years. A centurion like him can’t complain for the shape he’s in, even battered. “I can do it myself.” 

“Yes, but it wouldn’t be easy.” 

You reach as he angles towards you. You gingerly dab around the gash and he tenses. He takes a sharp breath, “you don’t have to be so gentle. I can handle pain.” 

“Right,” you work more diligently. 

He’s quiet as you tend to him, picking out gravel and some metal slivers. You worry that you might miss some. You lean in closer and he steels himself at your proximity. 

“So,” he clears his throat, “just you and...” the kid?” 

“We all make mistakes,” you chuckle. You can only laugh about it, as scared as you are. 

“Mmm,” he flinches as you sweep down the length of the cut. It’s not that deep, mostly superficial. 

“Let me put some steri-strips on, shouldn’t need the stitches, ” you say as you sift through the kit with one hand, “if you’re hungry, I have leftovers. You like chicken?” 

You don’t know why you’re offering. Maybe it’s because you owe him. Like everyone in the city. It’s your chance to give back to the hero who gave so much. Or maybe it’s because you’re so damn lonely talking to your own stomach. 

“I should go,” he insists as you place a strip across the cut. 

“Up to you,” you say, “I don’t mind either way, but I’m not going to chase Captain America out of ym apartment.” 

He doesn’t say anything. You finish dressing his wound and gather up the wrappers and all. You crumple it in one hand and rock yourself to stand. You’re overly aware of him watching you. You touch your stomach and rub it, soothing your nerves. You find him watching the movement of your hand. 

“You must be pretty far along,” he says. 

“Six months. Chicken tortellini, if you want. I was gonna reheat some. I haven’t eaten since work.” 

“Work?” He frowns and stands, moving better than before. “Should you be?” 

“I’m at a desk. It’s nothing. HR got me some ergonomic stuff. Nothing compared to what you do.” 

You put away the kit and toss the garbage. You wash your hands before you search out the container of pasta in the fridges. You sense him behind you, just in the wide archway that peers into the kitchen. You reach into the cupboard you left open and take the single plate that isn’t in the rack. 

“So, you want some?” You ask. 

He’s silent with contemplation, the shift of his weight creaks in the floor, “I appreciate it, yes, please.” 

“I might have something you can change into,” you say. You wonder why you’re doing all this. Maybe it’s that maternal instinct kicking in. “The father, before he took off, left a few things.” You peek over your shoulder, “he was a bit smaller than you.” 

He shrugs then winces at the careless gesture. “Do you mind if I wash up before I eat? I smell like garbage. I don’t wanna overstep--” 

“Go ahead, it’ll take a while to warm this up,” you say. 

Another long lull. He taps his fingers on the wall and inhales deep enough for you to hear, “promise, I’ll get out of your hair after dinner.” 

“Please, take your time,” you say as you put the tortellini in a glass pan to rebake. He backs away and you sense his hesitation, “oh, down the hall, to the left of the bedroom at the end.” 

“Thanks,” he intones, “oh, uh, just realised, you know who I am...” 

Your brows pop up and you stop before you can put the pan in the stove. You look back at him and give your name. He nods. 

“Pretty,” he comments, “also, it’s just Steve, not Captain.” 

[herjuhodivine]

How would yandere Ekko handle a darling who got injured while trying to escape?

Ty 4 reading my request!

ㅤ        ㅤ             ⠀◌   𑁍 _ my baby fire     ⸝⸝  

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not proofread

if you escape during an important firelight meeting and he find that out DURING the meeting, oh he would be pissed but he wouldn’t be able to show it cause the members didn’t even know that he kidnapped you, everyone just thought you were the secret lover he was hiding for so long.

but let him catch you running, hiding etc and you’re injured. he would be concerned first and making sure you’re not dying on him.

“hey hey—you’re okay. relax, i’m not going to hurt you.” he walks slowly towards you as you backed up until your back hit a wall. your whole body tenses; coming to terms with your faint and freedom slipping away from you and completely vanish as the white haired boy stood before you. a sharp piece of wood cut your side, deep but not deep enough for major stitches or brink of death.

he would cradle you back to the hideout, everyone becoming worried about your obvious bleeding out and the children wanting to comfort you but ekko gently pushed them away, reassuring them that you’ll be okay. you’re not seeing the light of day for a month. minimum.

“firefly.” he spoke sternly as he cleans the wound properly but deliberately making it slow and painfully for you to hurt. “what did i tell you about running away?” his voice low and the feeling of pressure on your chest was unbearable and his burning gaze as you stared at the wall the entire time. “you’re so ungrateful.”

his top priority was healing you up first then feeding you. don’t try to refuse eating he will shove it down your throat if needed.

“now.” he slowly paces in front of you, sitting in the cold basement with chains tying your hands tightly. he grabs your face firm but gently. “who have you the right idea to try to get away from me? hm?” he breathes out and his head slide down from your face to your neck, his hand form around your neck but doesn’t squeeze it. “such a pretty thing. you’re too good for zaun.” he mumbled, more to himself than you. his lips connect to your lips, firm but soft; the type of affection signaling you’re never escaping after today.

he’ll only allow you out of the basement is to play with the children or help around the base, understand his strict watching of course, he can’t have his firefly running out into the dangerous world again, especially zaun, you seen this dump? why do you think he made firelights in the first place? is to keep people safe, to keep you safe.

©︎ J U H Ō . all rights reserved. please don't plazarize, copy, or steal any of my works without my permission, thank you !

edit: 9:40pm: omg this was suppose to come out yesterday at 8pm with episode 2 of purpose of fun love but the queue set it to 4am and i didn’t feel like changing it or posting it earlier than it set to be cause i actually have a post limit ( 2-3 max ) so i just let it be.

[felassan]

More from Game Informer: ''A Deep Dive Into Dragon Age: The Veilguard’s Combat, Abilities, Skill Tree, And More''.

The article contained new screenshots of skill trees - one for Level 30 Warrior Rook, one for Level 30 Mage Rook, one for Level 30 Rogue Rook, and one showing the 'pop up info' for the skill Wall of Fire. Going by these screenshots, the 3 specs for mage Rook are Death Caller, Evoker, and Spellblade. I think this is the first time the three specs for mages are confirmed. I wonder, is "Thorne" this Rook's custom first name, or one of the faction-defined surnames?

Text in last image reads:

"- Large circle: Class - Diamonds: Abilities - Medium circle: Major Passives and Ability Upgrades - Small hexagon: Traits - Small circle: Minor Passives and Stat Boosts"

Other excerpts from the article:

"Every single entry reimagines what combat is like and I would say our goal was to make sure we had a system that allowed players to feel like they actually were able to step into the world of Thedas. They're not a player observing from afar – they are inside of this world. Being this authentic world that's brought to life, the combat system needs to support that, so you are in control of every single action, every block, every dodge, every swing of your sword." [...] "During my demo at one point, we use a sword-and-shield Warrior Qunari that hip-fires and aims their shield to throw it like Captain America while hammering down big damage with a sword" [...] "a Mage's firewall that deals continuous damage" [...] "This extends to companions, who, at your choosing, bring three abilities (of their five total) into combat, executed either with quick select buttons or the pause-and-play combat wheel. Every time you rank up a companion's Relationship Level, you unlock a skill point to spend specifically on that companion – this is how you unlock new combat abilities. This extends to companions, who, at your choosing, bring three abilities (of their five total) into combat, executed either with quick select buttons or the pause-and-play combat wheel. Every time you rank up a companion's Relationship Level, you unlock a skill point to spend specifically on that companion – this is how you unlock new combat abilities. " [...] "Passive abilities unlock jump attacks and guarantee critical hit opportunities, while abilities add moves like firewall and spartan kicks to your arsenal" [...] "Busche says BioWare's philosophy with the skill tree is "about changing the way you play, not the statistical minutiae." 

-

"If you completely ignore companions in combat, they will attack targets, use abilities, and defeat enemies all on their own. "[Companions] are their own people, "Busche says. "They have their own behaviors, they have their own autonomy on the battlefield, they'll pick their own targets. As their plots progress, they'll learn how to use their abilities more competently, and it really feels like you're fighting alongside these realized characters in battle."" [...] "Busche says there are more explicit synergies, with intentional combos where specific companions can play off each other, and you can queue up their abilities to do just that."

-

"Busche utilizes Veilguard's dual-loadout mechanic. As Rook, you can create two weapon loadouts for quick switch-ups mid-combat. As a mage Rook, she uses magical attacks to add three stacks of arcane build-up to make an Arcane Bomb on a Sentinel, a mechanical set of armor possessed by a demon. If you hit the Sentinel's Arcane Bomb with a heavy attack, the enemy will take devastating damage. Once the Sentinel has an Arcane Bomb on it, Busche begins charging a heavy attack on her magical staff, then switches to magical daggers in Rook's second loadout, accessed with a quick tap of down on the d-pad to unleash some quick light attacks, then back to the staff to finish charging its attack. She then unleashes the heavy attack, and the Arcane Bomb explodes in a liquidy whirl of green magic."

-

""I've seen [Veilguard's combat] refined over time [and] I love it," BioWare general manager Gary McKay tells me. "I love that balance of real-time fluid action, but also the ability to have the depth in the RPG, not just in terms of pause-and-play, but the depth in terms of how you bring your companions into the battlefield. What are you going to do with their skill points? What's the loadout you're going to use? Everything is about bringing Rook to the center of the battlefield, and I love it."  Former Dragon Age executive producer and Veilguard consultant Mark Darrah feels Veilguard is the first game where the combat is legitimately fun. "What I see in Veilguard is a game that finally bridges the gap," he says. "Uncharitably, previous Dragon Age games got to the realm of 'combat wasn't too bad.' In this game, the combat's actually fun, but it does keep that thread that's always been there. You have the focus on Rook, on your character, but still have that control and character coming into the combat experience from the other people in your party."  I get the sense from watching Busche play several hours of Veilguard that BioWare has designed a combat system that relies heavily on players extracting what they want out of it. If you want to button mash and use abilities freely when their cooldowns expire, you can probably progress fine (although on the game's easier difficulties). But if you want to strategize your combos, take advantage of elemental vulnerabilities, and min-max companions and Rook loadouts, you can do that, too, and I think you'll find Veilguard rewards that with a more enriching experience."

[source]

[midnightwritingsessions]

Chords of your heart

Summary: Being a close friend of one direction you are invited to take the stage with them. You play one of your favourite songs of theirs, one Niall had wrote. He had written the song about you and now you were singing it to Harry, his jealousy blinds him and he plays his guitar over your vocals. Bad summary and use of y/n! 🥴

Masterlist

1.5k words

Might not be my best writing sorry! <3

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The crowd buzzed with excitement, an electric hum of anticipation rippling through the stadium. The lights dimmed slightly, and a hush fell over the audience before an eruption of screams as the familiar figures of One Direction took the stage. It was the middle of their world tour, and the energy was at an all-time high. Amongst the sea of flashing lights and waving hands, there was a particularly strong rumor floating around, Y/N might be performing tonight. As a longtime friend of the band, you had been seen traveling with them recently, fueling speculation.

You had know the band since they first gained fame, when you were still growing your career. You had risen up together and never let it affect your friendship. When they had announced their tour they invited you with them, an offer you couldn’t turn down. You were currently on a break from music after just coming back from your own tour a few months ago and thought this would be a good way to enjoy yourself instead of lazing around. So far you couldn’t have made a better decision everyday brought you laughter in some way, the boys were always joking around.

On the days off from their tour you made sure to take the boys out on trips in whatever city they were in. You took many photos which ended up on your social media. The stream of photos of you with the band in the cities and some back stage lead to rumours that you could be performing with them from fans and more invasive rumours of relationships and scandals from the press. After seeing the rumours the boys couldn’t turn down an opportunity to make their fans happy so they asked you to perform at a show with them. You didn’t even need to think about the answer.

Which led you to now, standing behind stage listening to the bands set waiting for your queue to join them. You were used to the loud cheers from fans and the deep vibrations from the excitement in the room but you still held your breath in anticipation and excitement for the reaction of your appearance from the crowd.

Fans had been posting theories all over social media, dissecting every Instagram story and blurry backstage sighting trying to guess which show you were coming out at if any at all. You had even added fuel to the fire by liking certain TikTok’s and posts of theories.

From your place just behind the scenes you could see Harry stepped up to the mic midway through the concert and smirk knowingly at the crowd, the stadium nearly shook with excitement. "So, we have a little surprise for you lot tonight. Well… not so little" he teased, glancing toward the side stage. "Our dear friend, and one of the most incredible artists out there, Y/N!" The roar was deafening as you walked onto the stage, beaming at the crowd. You hugged each of the boys before taking your own place between them. It felt surreal standing here, sharing this moment with your best friends.

They started with a few classic songs, some from their old albums and some of your own, your voice blending effortlessly with theirs, the chemistry undeniable. Each band member got their turn singing with you, your dynamics all different yet playful and electric. Then, it was time for the final song of your set with them, one that Niall had written and coincidentally was your favourite. What you or the rest of the band didn’t know (but maybe they had their suspicions) was that the song the girl was written about was you.

Your relationship with Niall was very dear to you and the past few weeks while being on tour with him had made your feelings for him grow, something you promised yourself you wouldn’t let happen. The past few weeks on tour had been filled with laughter, late-night conversations, and stolen moments between you and Niall. From sitting side by side in the tour bus, sharing headphones and swapping song ideas, to sneaking out after gigs for quiet walks through unfamiliar cities, you were close with Niall before but now he made your heart beat faster anytime he was near you.

One night, after a particularly long rehearsal, you had fallen asleep on the couch in the green room, curled up in an oversized hoodie. Niall had found you like that and couldn’t resist sitting beside you gently brushing a stray hair from your face. Louis had walked in moments later, smirking knowingly. “You’re gone for her, mate” he teased, clapping Niall on the back. Niall had simply sighed, not even bothering to deny it. Then, there were the inside jokes, the lingering glances, the way Niall’s hand would brush against yours for just a second longer than necessary or linger just above your lower back. Niall craved to just be able to reach out and touch you. You felt something, too, but your werent sure if you were imagining it. Did Niall see you as more than just a friend?

As the first chords rang out, Niall’s grip on his guitar tightened. He was expecting you to walk over to him to sing the song together like you always did no matter where you were instead, he watched as you gravitated toward Harry at center stage, your voice harmonizing beautifully with his. You were singing his lyrics, his feelings, with Harry. A knot tightened in his stomach. His emotions taking over and being conveyed through the music once again. His fingers pressed harder into the strings, and before he even realized it, he was adjusting the volume on his amp. The sound of his guitar swelled, drowning out the vocals as his mind tried to drown out the thoughts of you and Harry.

You exchanged confused glances with Harry next to you as you struggle to be heard over the aggressive strumming. Louis shot Niall a questioning but knowing look, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. The song ended, and the band moved on, with you making your exit off stage yet it left a lingering sense of confusion hanging in the air. The show continued seamlessly, the audience none the wiser to the small tension brewing on stage.

You had brushed the incident off yet throughout the night Niall had seemed to escape your company, making excuses. You knew something was wrong so after the afterparty settled down, you found yourself standing outside Niall’s hotel room. You hesitated before knocking softly. The door swung open, revealing a disheveled Niall. His blue eyes were tired, but there was something else there, something raw. “Hey” you said gently. “Mind if I come in?” He stepped aside wordlessly, letting you in. The air between them was thick with unspoken words. You had perched yourself on the edge of the couch, watching him as he ran a hand through his hair. “Okay” you started taking a deep breath to try to navigate where to start “what was that about tonight? The guitar thing?” Niall let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked anywhere but at her. “I dunno” he mumbled. “Just got a little carried away in the excitement, I guess”

You tilted your head, unconvinced. “Niall…” He groaned, shoving his head into his hands before slowly, finally meeting her gaze. “It was the song, Y/N” he admitted, voice low. “I wrote it. About you”.Silence hung between them, your breath hitching being the only sound in the room. Confusion took over you. You couldn’t process that he made such a deep, beautiful song about..you?

“You… wrote that about me?” You echoed, as if saying it aloud would make it more real.“Yeah” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And then you were singing it… with Harry. At center stage. I just..” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. Every emotion running through his body “It drove me mad” You stared at him, your heart pounding and pupils blown wide “Why didn’t you ever tell me?” He let out a humorless chuckle. “Didn’t think I had a chance” You didn’t know what to say. All this time, you didn’t consider the possibility that your thoughts of Niall reciprocating your feelings could be real. You knew he had always looked at you just a little differently but you didn’t think he had been holding onto feelings he thought he couldn’t share. Especially when you shared them this whole time.

You took a tentative step forward, closing the space between them. “You’re an idiot, Horan” you murmured a soft laugh escaping your lips before reaching up to press a soft, lingering kiss against his lips. He stiffened in surprise before melting into your touch, his arms wrapping around you as if he’d been waiting forever to do so. And maybe he had. When you pulled away, you smiled. “Next time, just tell me, okay?” He grinned, his fingers lacing with hers. “Yeah. Next time” He dropped his head to the crook of your neck with a dopey, love sick smile across his face. He could finally relax.

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Thank you for reading!!