prickleestull

[prickleestull]

Graveyard Smash - Cole Cassidy

Pairing: Cole Cassidy x f! reader (fem pronouns + has a pussy)

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: while investigating an abandoned asylum, you and Cass come into contact with slime that has a strange effect on you...

CW: ghost hunter! au, near-death experience, kinda horror elements to start (but those are the vibes teehee), sex pollen (but it's slime), dubcon, dry humping, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it), creampie, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, cum stuffing

omg day one of kinktober! i meant to post this much much earlier but the wc got away from me and i took a four hour nap ;') hopefully tomorrows will be out earlier tho! i don't like this v much but i cannot spend anymore time tweaking it sorry

also def should’ve made todays movie ghostbusters but oh well

kinktober masterlist | masterlist

You shiver at the feeling of Cole’s fingers on your chest, fiddling with the gold buttons of your coveralls. The blue fabric scrunches in his calloused hands as he makes his way upwards, slipping the buttons through the loops with ease.

You glance at the looming abandoned asylum behind him, the old brick building creaking beneath the howling wind. “So, what’re we dealing with here?”

“Dunno,” he shrugs his broad shoulders, his matching coveralls bunching up at the motion. “They just said it was slimy, loud and real mean.”

“Great.”

He chuckles at the lack of your enthusiasm, finishing the last button and pulling away from you. You miss the warmth of his hands immediately, a chill running up your spine.

You hop down from the back of the van, slinging your backpack over your shoulders. “You packed the flashlights?”

His face goes pale. “What? I thought you did.”

Your mouth falls open. You drop your bag, squatting on the pavement to start rifling through it when you hear him chuckling above you. 

“Very funny.”

“Hey, just tryna lighten the mood.”

You go quiet again at that, once again sizing up the asylum before you. Being a paranormal investigator wasn’t for the faint of heart, and you’ve dealt with some creepy buildings over the years, but none were as eerie as the one waiting for you.

You swallow hard, adjusting the straps of your backpack. “So,” you gesture to the decaying steps outside, “shall we?”

“Ladies first.”

You scoff, but force yourself forward regardless. The rotting steps creak with every move you make, the concrete landing a distant paradise. You suck in a breath, glancing over your shoulder to see Cass hot on your heels.

Cass breaks down the barricaded door with just one kick, the wood splintering and falling to the floors with a bang. The sound echoes off the walls, spreading out through the massive building.

“Well, if it didn’t know we were coming before…”

You snort, pulling the flashlights out of your bag and passing one to him. For a second, you’re cast in darkness, the only light being from the full moon beaming from a nearby window. You smack your flashlight a few times and it slowly flickers to life, illuminating the crumbling grand staircase in front of you.

Cass raises his brows at the sight. “Guess we’re not going up.”

“You can say that again.”

You swing the beam of light from right to left, identical disgusting hallways on either side of you. Your flashlight falls on his chest, the golden buttons glowing like the sun. He raises his thick brows at you in question.

“Dealer's choice, cowboy.” You offer a weak grin, “do you want disgusting hallway number one, or two?”

He sighs, shaking his head at your antics, but turns to the right and starts shuffling off down the hall. You trail after him, staying only a few steps behind him. It’s eerily quiet inside, the only sounds being from your footsteps and the occasional whir of the EMF reader in his hand.

A broken security door lies ahead, torn caution tape beckoning you in. You frown, “so, what even happened here to make it such a hotspot?”

“Patient abuse, mad doctors, insane cover-ups. The usual for a place like this.” He’s gentle opening the door this time, the old wood creaking on its hinges. “Fuckin’ creepy.”

The hall ahead is even worse than the one you just trekked down. The floor is crumbling and broken in odd places, covered in stains that you really hope aren’t blood. Doors line either side of the hallway, looted carts of medical equipment staggered throughout. 

You’re only a few steps through the door when it slams harshly behind you, a terribly warm gust of air ghosting over the back of your neck. You flinch harshly, spinning around to face the few feet of empty space between you and the closed door. There’s nothing there.

“Any chance that means it likes us and wants us here?”

Cass only snickers.

“Yeah,” you grumble, adjusting your collar, “figured as much.”

Cass pushes open the first door and the EMF reader whines in response. You can just barely make out the reading on his screen—Level 4. That chill runs up your spine again. It’s gonna be a long night.

—

The basement of the asylum is somehow even creepier than the upstairs. It’s boiling hot and smells strangely of strawberries despite the rotting walls and floors.

You clench the ultraviolet flashlight tighter in your hand, sweeping it over the walls around you. Aside from the door closing, you’ve yet to see anything paranormal in the hours you’ve been here. 

Cass keeps close to your side, the two of you now relying on only his flashlight. The smell of his deodorant floods your nostrils, the scent so familiar and comforting it almost has you forgetting the creepy asylum around you. Almost. 

He wipes at the glistening skin on the back of his neck, muscles flexing at the motion. You glance away quickly, heat pooling in your stomach.

“Hotter than hell down here,” he grumbles.

You whimper in agreement, your own skin starting to take on a slight sheen. The smell only grows stronger as you dip into another hallway. You scrunch up the nose at the nauseatingly sweet smell.

Both of you freeze as the purple light of your flashlight grazes over a handprint on a nearby door. You turn to Cass with a frown, both of you knowing a handprint can only mean you’re getting closer. 

He braces his hand on the handle and takes a deep breath before shoving it open. You stagger in after him, eyes burning at how intense the scent is inside the room.

You turn to him, ready to ask if he’s picking up on anything, when his face goes pale. 

“Get down!” He shouts, tackling you to the concrete floor.

He manages to manoeuvre just enough to brace your fall, your back crashing against his chest. The air is knocked from both of your lungs from the impact.

You cough harshly, trying to roll away when his grip around you tightens.

“Don’t move.” He whispers.

You open your mouth to ask him why but freeze in your tracks at the pink tinged spectre only a few feet away from you. Its eyes are unfocused, its mouth moving without making any sound. Heat seems to follow its movements, growing closer and closer to where the two of you lay on the floor.

You force yourself to lie completely still, not even breathing while it skims across the floor. The smell around it is so strong your eyes start to water, hot tears leaking down your cheeks. It drifts farther into the room, towards the door on the opposite side.

Cass’s chest has also stilled behind you, his movements as frozen as yours. Both of you are stuck in shock as it reaches the door. You’re almost home free, it’s almost gone. 

And then the EMF reader crackles back to life—having landed a few feet away from you in the fall—and lets out a screeching tone that can only indicate an EMF 5 reading.

The spectre whips around, screeching back at the gadget, and speeds towards the two of you. Cass shoves you off, flipping onto his feet in an instant. He goes to dive for his bag, but he never makes it.

Before either of you can react, the spectre is unhinging its jaw and projectile vomiting glowing pink slime on the both of you. You gag, sliding around in the goo in an attempt to get away from it. Cass slips and lands on his ass next to you, raising his forearms to shield his face.

In the chaos, you somehow manage to reach into your bag, fingers grasping at the small metal trap. You squeeze it tightly, tugging the lever open before tossing it outwards.

The trap opens, landing at its feet and crackling with electricity. The two of you watch with blank stares as the ghost is sucked inside. 

“The switch!” Cass shouts at you through a mouthful of slime, “where’s the switch?”

And then you’re both digging through your bag, feverish skin rubbing against his as you desperately search for the small metal switch. Cass grabs it, holding it up triumphantly before slamming his hand on the button. 

“See you in hell, motherfucker.”

You laugh in relief when the trap slams shut behind it, a small puff of pink air sneaking through from the pressure. 

“What,” you breathe, “the actual fuck just happened.”

Cass laughs, rising to his feet and offering you a hand. He tugs you to your feet, the slime coating your sneakers making you slide into his chest. He catches you, hands lingering on your waist as he helps you get steady.

You swallow hard. Despite the slime coating both of you, the warmth of his chest and the proximity to him has you swallowing hard, a sudden heat between your legs.

You cough, turning away from him. “We should get out of here.”

He hums in agreement, collecting the trap off the ground and following you back into the hallway.

He keeps a step behind you the entire way out, his body frustratingly close. The heat coursing through you only gets worse the closer you get to the exit, even the cold night air leaking through the broken windows doing nothing to sate it. Your core throbs, horrible cramps wracking your stomach and thighs with every step.

You brace yourself on a nearby wall, trying to force some air into your lungs. Cass gently pats your shoulder and you moan. You clamp a hand over your mouth, both of you frozen in shock.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and the deep, raspy tone of his voice has your legs quivering. “You’re burning up.”

“Y—yeah,” you gasp out. “Just need to—to keep moving.”

He nods, squeezing your shoulder in reassurance before the two of you begin stumbling your way out of the asylum. You’re only a few feet away from the van before you double over, a nauseating wave of cramps and heat and need coursing through you.

Cass manages to catch you before you hit the ground, strong hands helping guide you to the pavement. He squats down in front of you, his slime coated suit clinging to his body in all the right places. You lick your lips.

Amber eyes follow the motion and you swear they darken at the sight of you. He trails a hand up and down your side, your cramps subsiding at the motion. “You alright?” He rasps.

You swallow hard, his voice sexy and husky and sending electricity surging through you. “Cramps,” you frown.

His hands trail up to the chest of your coveralls, fingers popping the first button open. “You’ll probably feel much better once we get these damned things off.”

You stay perfectly still, scared that if you move any closer to him you’ll do something you’ll regret. His fingers linger after each button, the breath leaving your body at each touch. Your eyes flutter shut, your whole body shaking beneath him.

You don’t even notice he’s done until his lips are hovering over your ear, hot breath ghosting the side of your neck. “Isn’t that much better?”

You moan in agreement, not even bothering to cover your arousal. You let the coveralls shrug over your shoulders, falling in a sopping pool on the ground. Cass helps you rise on shaking legs, guiding you to the back of the van.

You open the doors, letting yourself slump against the cool metal of the back bumper. Cass stands in front of you, fingers fumbling around on the buttons of his own suit.

You’re mesmerised by the sight, practically panting as the suit slides off of him and reveals his black compression shirt and blue jeans. Your eyes trail over him and you’re only barely aware of how he’s watching you take him in. 

Your eyes fix on the bulge in his pants, straining against the denim. You wet your lips at the sight.

“Like what you see?” He rasps.

Your eyes snap up to his, shock written on your face. You stumble over your words for a second, the sight of his flushed cheeks and dark eyes driving you wild.

“Cole—”

“I need you.”

And you’re left with no time to react before he’s pouncing on you, grabbing your face in his hands and slamming his lips against yours. You whine into his mouth, dragging your nails down his back.

He leans into you, hands slipping to cup your ass. Your legs wrap around his waist, drawing him closer as he lifts you further into the van. His teeth graze at your bottom lip and you gasp, letting his mouth swipe over the backs of your teeth.

He’s hot against your mouth, both of you overheating despite the cold night air. You can taste the strawberry remnants of the slime on his lips, overshadowed by the tang of cigars and spearmint. Rutting your hips against him, you whine into the kiss. 

He returns the motion, rolling his hips into yours. Despite the layers of clothes between you, he can feel the heat pooling between your legs. Sweat beads down your temples and you pull away from him gasping.

“I need you,” you echo.

His face is equally as hot as yours, cheeks red and glistening with sweat. His hair is stuck to his skin and tears brim the corners of his eyes. He looks utterly pathetic, melting into you with mutual desperation.

A whine of protest slips from your lips when he pulls away from you to unbutton his jeans, fingers flying so fast you can hardly keep track. Despite his speed, you can’t take it anymore, dipping your own hand between your legs to sate your cravings.

Your pants have completely soaked through, hot slick ruining the fabric. You rub at your clit, clenching your thighs around your wrist and rocking back and forth. His cock springs free but he makes no move to touch you, watching you fuck yourself with burning eyes.

“D–don’t just watch,” you gasp, “help me. Please.”

He rasps, “damn, that’s hot.”

And then he’s on you again, slotted perfectly between your legs while he presses his lips into yours. His hands fumble with your pants, managing to tug them down to your knees. He fixes a hand between your thighs, stroking at your soaking panties with a whine.

“So wet, fuck, god,” the thick head of his cock rubs against your panties. “T-tell me I can fuck you. Please.”

 He ruts against you through your panties, his cock rubbing against your clit with every thrust. The heat of his body pressing against yours, the scent of his deodorant and his breath on your body is all too much. You roll your head back, arching your back into him.

You barely manage to gasp out a string of slurred curses before you come undone, gushing on his cock through your panties. Cass watches with wide eyes, your slick making your panties almost see through. He rubs a thumb over your clit and you twitch beneath him.

“Please fuck me,” you murmur through pants. “I need it badly.”

That’s all he needs to hear before he’s ripping open your panties and slipping his cock inside of you. Your pussy greedily takes him in, walls stretching around his cock in a way that has both of you groaning. You reach for him, pulling his broad shoulders into you and dragging your nails along his sweaty skin.

He’s barely bottomed out before his cock is twitching inside of you, hot cum painting your walls. You clench tightly, your attempt to keep him from pulling out. He presses his face into the crook of your neck, cumming in a series of gasps and whines.

You keep your ankles locked around his hips until he’s finished, slowly rocking yourself against him through his orgasm. 

He pulls away, looking at you with those pathetic fucking eyes. “Need more,” he says, and its all he manages before he’s pulling out and fucking his cum back into you.

You gasp with every harsh thrust. Each snap of his hips has his cum sloshing inside of you, has his tip hitting the edge of your cervix and making you whine. He hangs his head low into your shoulder, babbling dirty things against your skin. 

He shifts a hand down to your knees, throwing your ankles over his shoulder so he can bend you in half and fuck you even deeper. You squeal when his cock is driven so deep inside that it almost hurts. He nips at the skin of his neck, the sharp bones of his hips hitting yours so roughly it’ll bruise.

It’s so hot that it’s dizzying, the stretch of his cock inside of you driving you near insanity. Your legs shake around his shoulders, your stomach cramping in anticipation of your next orgasm. You squeeze your eyes shut, digging your nails into your palms as it washes over you.

Your whole body shakes, pussy fluttering around him. He fucks you through it, his pace unrelenting as he chases his own high within your walls. You’re just barely coming to when he’s coming undone inside you once more, another gush of hot cum filling you up.

His hips stutter against yours as wave after wave fills you up. He gasps with each hot strand, his cock twitching inside of you. It’s nearly a minute before he’s done and you’re left so full it hurts.

He only takes a second to recover before he’s fucking into you again, chasing the heat within your walls. Both of you are soaked in sweat, gasping and whimpering and twitching with every motion—but neither of you care.

“M-move your legs.” He swallows, “need to be deeper.”

And then you’re folding your legs into your chest, pressed taut against your tits through your t-shirt. It only gives him better access to fuck you, his cock slamming deeper and deeper with every motion. He’s panting and struggling to catch his breath but his movements never falter.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, drawing him closer into you and planting kisses across his collar bone. His skin tastes like sweat and strawberries and you relish in it. Relish in him. 

Your pussy aches desperately, every inch of your skin feverish and wanting. Your head feels dizzy and you’re suddenly wondering how long you’ve been at this, but it feels so fucking good and he’s so fucking hot and all you want is to cum over and over and over again.

You let out a sob of pleasure as another orgasm tears through you, electricity crackling through your nerves. Your head goes fuzzy, the world around you fading away while wave after wave of pleasure wracks your body. All of your muscles seize, clenching and unclenching around his cock.

He cums with you, his thighs red and shaking from how hard he’s been fucking you. He lets himself drape over you, the weight of his body only adding to the dizzy fever threatening to take you.

The two of you lay there for a while longer, his cock still hard and your pussy still gushing. He twitches against you, and his small pants let you know that he still needs you just as bad as you need him.

You sob again, your poor pussy aching and abused and still clenching him like he’s the only thing you’ve ever needed. “Need more,” you whine, “can’t take more.”

He nods against you, sweaty hair tickling your sensitive skin. He slowly rolls your hips against yours and even that small motion has both of you cumming again, seizing against one another.

—

It’s hours before you’re fully coherent again. The sun has already started rising before Cass is able to move off of you, rolling onto the van floor next to you. 

The fever in your body has finally subsided but your strength is sapped from the dozens of orgasms you endured throughout the night.

In the afterglow of your orgasms, neither of you seem to notice or care about the pink, glowing puddle of fluids beneath you, or the rattling of the ghost trap in your backpack.

kinktober masterlist | masterlist

[prickleestull]

“Men can’t get pregnant” KEEP POUNDING 💕

[prickleestull]

The only way Creep Darling can get their freak Rabbit monster roommate- I mean, pet to speak to them after he becomes their property

-

"Rascal, sit-"

Hauling off a load your clothes hamper to the laundry as a part of their self appointed chores, the rabbit creature's ears perk up at your demand. Tail wagging as you point down at the carpeted floor - affirming your statement, clothing scatters the living room as Rascal drops down to his knees; panting with excitement. His paws instinctively perch to his chest, body shuffling over to your side.

"Good bunny- Good bunny, Rascal-"

You reach a hand up to pat his head. Bent at the knee, and it still had some leverage over you. The creases of his mask stretch and twists as his mouth contorts in a silent moan - strings of drool threading through the cracks of the tight leather strapped to their face.

"Rascal, lay. Lay down. On your back, please."

The thin slits of their eyes expand beyond imagination. You can almost make out his dilated pupils seconds before the rabbit flings himself against the blanketed floor. The landing doesn't seem to faze it in the slightest as their foot, now at a more appropriate angle, drums at lighting speed.

A strangled cry rips from his chest as you climb atop, throwing a leg over either side of his broad torso to ground yourself from their eager thrashing. Without thought, their large paws fly to the belt of your pants - fumbling with the small latch.

"Rascal. Paw."

As if a switch had been flipped, their arms fall to their sides - a timid paw find the palm of your hand.

"Good bunny. You're such a good boy when you want to be. Are you my good bunny, Rascal?"

Rascal nods - tries to, anyway. It's difficult from their spot on the floor, and your hand steadily scratching at his chin.

"Then speak."

Left with their identity as your pet, and their desire to abide by your every command - the latter won 99.9% of the time. Rabbits do not speak, but if you order your rabbit to speak - he will bend whatever rules he has implemented for himself to your whimper.

Tentatively, Rascal loops a claw through the zipper of their mask - pealing back the clasp ever so slowly. You peer into the darkness, tattered lips forming words croaked from a strained throat - rubbed raw from the excessive moans and howls for their owner.

"Yes... Master."

Heat pools beneath his thighs as you finally - finally - flash him one of your rare, heart pounding smiles.

"That's my bunny."

Rascal chirps as you kiss the side of his head. "Do you love me, Bunny?"

"More a god loves its creations, Master."

"Then you'd anything for me?"

"Anything." Thd creature raspy.

"You'd never lie to me?"

"Never."

Sitting up straight, you reveal the evidence of crime from your pocket. Rascal's heart drops into their stomach.

"My underwear. Several pairs in fact. Along with some stockings, tee shirts, shorts, and towels I've used to dry off with. All have wound up miss. All I've found by your bed with teeth marks and mysterious "fluids" all over."

Rascal squirms - scorched beneath your accusatory gaze.

"There's nowhere for you to run now."

Despite weighing about as much as a sack of potatoes to the enormous beast, you successful keep him pinned between your glare and your potion atop him. Never in a million years would he throw you off him. Not intentionally anyway.

"Did you do it, Rascal?"

Rascal licks at the beads of sweat pouring down his face - softened eyes searching for a shroud of mercy in yours towards your one and only pet. Back to being your silent, clueless housemate. As he was always meant to be.

"Tell the truth, and I might give you the ones I have on now."

As it comes, your compassion is a cruel ploy to squeeze every ounce of information and dignity from him.

And Rascal wouldn't have it any other way.

"I did it- It was me, I'm so sorry. You're gone for so long everyday, and your items are rich with your scent. They leak with it- Master, you cannot blame me when you leave me trapped with temptation for hours. I need it. Please give me more of you! Please give it to me!"

[prickleestull]

One aspect of Shuggy miscommunication I don't think gets enough attention is that Shanks likely doesn't know the full extent of Buggy's insecurities. I truly think he'd be horrified to know his clown has spent more than half their lives believing Shanks looked down on him, that this belief is what destroyed their friendship, and that Shanks's own habit of smiling and laughing things off (disregarding Buggy's feelings in the process) have only made things worse. Imagine Buggy bearing his heart to Shanks after all these years, finally admitting he cared all along, that he feels worthless next to Shanks, that he hasn't pursued his real dreams or sought to advance himself or even tried to reach out to Rayleigh or Gaban all this time specifically because of Shanks, because of the sense of shame, because Shanks was the favorite and the Roger pirates were Shanks's family more than they were ever Buggy's. Imagine what all that would do to Shanks, I don't think he would ever recover.

licking this all over. both of these boys (40 yo men) are so pathetic and I love them. but... yeah, I cannot imagine Shanks ever truly recognised the depths of Buggy's feelings, in part because he GENUINELY does not look down on Buggy, even if the whole world would think he should if they knew what Buggy was really like. That honest affection blinds him to Buggy's awareness of just what a rift there has always been between them... Every time he smiles and laughs, he's trying to live his dream of being Carefree Pirates With Buggy, and every time, inevitably, it only adds to Buggy's certainty that Shanks has been mocking him all along.

oh, bugs. my bpd & rsd failchild /fond

[prickleestull]

I cannot believe that Oda drew Shanks with no clothes on with water dripping down his face talking about how he just wanted to live life with Buggy as carefree pirates...during pride month nonetheless

[prickleestull]

did he tho?

inspired by this post

[prickleestull]

sorry i covered your neck in dark hickeys and clamped down hard on your throat like limp prey while i was giving you a handjob. you whimpered a little too soft and i blacked out and believed myself to be a feral dog in possession of an entire rotisserie chicken

[prickleestull]

don't know who needs to hear this but gender non-conformity is not only for trans people. cis women can wear binders and packers. cis men can wear breast forms and tuck. cis women can use he/him pronouns and cis men can use she/her pronouns. anyone can use they/them pronouns or neopronouns. anyone can dress fem or masc regardless of gender identity. anyone can take hormones and get surgeries even if it doesn't match the 'normal' presentation for their gender. all the rules about gender are fake and you can do what you want. gender isn't some finite resource. do whatever the fuck makes you comfortable.

[prickleestull]

Trump is dead this and Trump is dead that. The obvious answer for Trump's sudden disappearance is that Trump has gone into his very first heat and the Whitehouse is trying to cover up that he's an Omega

[prickleestull]

found this three year old draft buried in my files. is it funny? I don't remember

[prickleestull]

PSA

EVERYONE BE CAREFUL. ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN PHISHING SITE (first link)

(the link is purple bc i clicked on it to get the link w/o special characters to report to various phising page report places).

the page leads to what appears to be the normal archive page, w/ the popup about the privacy policy & everything, with the url https://xn--iao3-lw4b.ws/media DO NOT LOG IN. THEY ARE HERE TO STEAL YOUR LOGIN CREDENTIALS. LOOK AT URLS BEFORE ENTERING ANY PERSONAL INFO.

STAY SAFE ON THE INTERNET GUYS!!

please reblog to spread this warning!!

[prickleestull]

Found a lump in my booby, how bad should I be panicking y’all?

[prickleestull]

“lieutenant.”

“lieutenant.”

you ducked under the mountain of his arm that clutched the doorframe and beelined for his bed.

it was perfectly made, of course, and despite the late hour, simon’s desk lamp still glowed brightly into the night. you yanked the comforter from its neatly tucked corner and pulled it back, creating enough space for you to snuggle underneath. in the background, the clacking of a military-issue laptop started, rhythmic and dependable as you got situated. the bed smelled like him, standard issue body soap with a hint of the spiced shampoo you forced him to switch to after discovering his 5-in-1 bottle that had survived multiple wars. the bright light against your back shifted, his shadow blocking it as you burrowed yourself into the sheets.

before you gave into temptation and made the trek to his room, you’d been tossing and turning for hours, the clock reaching 00:00 and starting again. with simon’s breathing as your white noise, unsteady with his once-broken nose, you were asleep in an instant.

-

a heavy weight made the mattress creak, and warmth flooded the sheets as you found them suddenly occupied. you reached for him first, hitching a leg over the broad expanse of his torso. your naked leg met his naked chest, and he growled in contentment as you rolled yourself completely over into a straddle, your head against his heart.

“missed you.” you murmured into his pec, the top of your head tucked under his chin. a ginormous paw found the meat of your thigh and squeeze, his fingers brushing the edge of your pajama shorts. “me or my cock?” he replied snarkily, clearly miffed that you didn’t greet him hours ago after he touched down from his week-long mission. but you weren’t a housewife waiting around to greet him and had things to do, recon to run, thank you very much.

you weren’t sure if he’d want to see you either, but the temptation of his presence was too much to resist.

you nipped his pec, giggling when he snorted and squeezed your ass in admonishment. “you, idiot.” you finally replied, face warming from how intimate it sounded. simon didn’t seem to care, just pushed your body further until your face was in the crook of his neck. his called fingers rubbed circles into the skin of your ass, those shorts yanked up to render them useless. your heartbeats synced, and the pure exhaustion of missing him for a week without knowing if he felt the same washed over you like a tidal wave. this stupid, hunk of a man.

“soap said you guys hit a pub the night before exfil.” he hummed into acknowledgment, but waited out your question. “you talk to anybody?” you whisper, almost too low for him to hear. “don’t like talkin’ to strangers.” he commented blithely, nonchalant enough to piss you off. you shoved at his chest, sitting up so you properly straddled his torso.

“fuck you.” you spit, moving to climb off his body. you’d rather take a sleepless night over this shit. caveman that he is, simon’s hands clamped down at the sides of your hips, rooting you in place. “quit playin’, baby.” he ordered. you snorted, digging your nails into his fingers and hating how he didn’t even react.

“no. i’m done with you and your two word non-answers.” but before you could make good on that threat, gravity was pulled out from under you. your body flipped until your head hit the pillow with a soft umph, sturdy hands pinning you into the mattress. his facial scars shined as a stream of moonlight seeped through the blinds, a furrow etched into his brows. “we’re not done.” he growled, like enough eye contact could make it true. “i’ll be the judge of that.” you recorded, heart steadily beating in a silent plead.

“no person’s worth talkin’ to unless it’s you.” his nose brushed yours, a softhearted caress. your body melted into the bed, easily turning to butter in eight words. “not even soap?” you asked nonsensically. simon snorted like a bull, then butted the side of your head like a hound too big for its body, no idea how to be gentle. “‘specially not soap.” you barked out a laugh, and his teeth glinted in a grin.

satisfied, you burrowed so far into him there was no telling where you ended. simon nipped at your neck, your earlobe, like he wanted to tear you open and work himself into the sinew of your body. you ignored the fat cock that was nudged between your thighs and slept like the world had ended, everyone gone except for him.

[prickleestull]

Forbidden cheese

[prickleestull]

Always

[prickleestull]

Pro tip! If u have OCD, that genre of advice stuff that's like "if youre questioning whether youre X, you probably are" is not for you and is in fact poison!!!

[prickleestull]

Yandere! Dragon - an actual dragon - who doesn’t understand the fragility of your human heart, let alone your human needs. He allows you to graze in the meadow, but only because he knows you won’t get far. His massive, deep emerald body lies stretched across the land, blending with the rolling hills as if he were part of the landscape itself. His tail curls around you like a wall of living stone, and his great, glossy black eyes never leave you, unblinking, greedy, watching every step.

He brings you offerings, thinking they’ll make you love him. Fresh cows, their hides still steaming, roasted alive in the inferno of his breath. He tears them apart delicately, placing the choicest pieces before you, convinced you’ll see it for what it is, a dragon’s devotion, a treasure given freely. But you shrink from it. You push the meat away. He watches you grow thinner, weaker, and the unease coils heavy in his chest. Do you hate him for it? Do you hate him?

You always run, foolishly, toward smoke trails on the horizon, toward the promise of villages he already reduced to ash. It maddens him. Why can’t you see? He has already erased every rival, every distraction, burned down every hope of rescue. There is only him.

Sometimes, in desperation, he takes on his human form - long dark hair, pale hands, eyes still burning with draconic greed. He hopes that maybe, maybe like this you’ll smile at him, reach for him, whisper that you love him back. Yet even then, he aches. Because that shape is weak, breakable, unworthy of keeping you safe. Only as the emerald beast can he guard you, shield you, cage you where no one else can touch.

He wants your love. He craves it more fiercely than gold, more desperately than fire. And so he keeps you, tight in the circle of his tail, a treasure to guard, a prize to worship. His hoard is ash and bone, but you, a soft, stubborn little human, you are the jewel he cannot stop clutching.