#I gotta figure out who Green is gonna be

[rosielav]

Since I'm finally 10% done, here is one drawing(or set) for each of my new OCs so far :D

In order, with themes:

OC 1-7 Friendship Week - asked 7 friends for an OC they wanted to see me draw

Biff Chuffley

Flapjack the Rucksack Mimic

Ricardo the sentient corn

Zoid the catterbee

A friend's OC from dnd

The blue water dragoon (based on a friend's url)

The Man Eating Serpent

OC 8-14 - ROY G BIV (ROY complete)

Jeramy Laramy

Queen Clemmie

Bobby Yayane, Orange Knight (fading to yellow)

Let me know what you guys think :) who is your favorite? What are you looking forward to? Still 90 new OCs to meet, and I'm excited to share them all with you!! Let me know if there's a theme you want to see as well, as my next one is Cool Composition (action shots, references sheets, 3-5 poses/scenes on one page, etc) but after that idk!

[airenyah]

i think i found a way to bring up bad buddy in my bachelor thesis, but i'm gonna have to restructure half of my plans

[justliketoreadsowhat]

All-Star Weekend ✯

✯ 𝐅𝐮𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 & 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐬 ✯

_______________________________

“𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟎𝟎° 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐬? 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐲“ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦, 𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐟𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞.

"The jacket goes with my outfit!" you protested tugging on your jean jacket. "We're gonna be inside anyways, the air will be blasting in there"

Arenas were always overly cold, one of the many things you've learned while being with Paige for the past two years. Today was one of her first All-Star appearances of her career. You made it your #1 priority to be there, even if that meant melting away from the scorching heat.

"Whatever you say, the outfit is beautiful though don't get me wrong" she smiled pulling down your cream-colored dress.

"It's meant to be short Paige! you're gonna stretch it out" moving away from her grip, re-adjusting yourself for another countless time in the mirror.

"I can stretch it it out some more if you want me to" her smug smirk formed in the corners of her lips, eyeing your figure"

"Don't start something you can't finish, we're gonna be late anyways let's go" pushing her taller frame out the doorway, your palms pressed against her bare skin, exposed by her bright green mesh crop top.

"Are you doubting me right now?" she questioned squinting her eyes "I was ready 20 minutes ago anyways, you're the one who decided to dress like the Met-Gala". Paige always had to make sure she got the last word and hated being proven wrong, her competitiveness shined throughout every conversation.

Luckily, she met her match the moment she laid eyes on you.

"Well then, I guess I'll stay here and go out by myself in my "Met-Gala" outfit" Crossing your arms, patiently waiting for her to give in.

"Alright come onnn" grabbing both your hands kissing them gently, ushering you out the door.

__________________________

The two of you arrive promptly 10 minutes early surprisingly. Cars were lined up past the building, as some people resorted to parking in the grass. The music blasting from the inside could be heard from miles away. The atmosphere was so lively, it was such a rush of excitement.

"You nervous?" Paige questioned. Being so indulged in the scenery, you zoned out, silencing any form of words being said to you.

Snapping out of it you turned to your girlfriend who had a concerned look on her face. "Yeah I'm good, it's beautiful out here"

She nodded in agreement, placing her arm around your shoulders pulling you closer. "If anything I should be asking you that question"

"Nah, real ones never get nervous" denying her nerves rising with each second. Patting her biceps, flexing her muscles.

"You've got to stop doing that' shaking your head in disapproval. "Let's go see what's going on inside" nudging her side.

Hoping out the car taking her soft hands into yours, you felt the warm heat hit your skin painfully slow. You wouldn't dare fix your lips to say you were hot though.

Stepping foot into the arena, the view filled with children of all ages dribbling basketballs that were about 3x their size. Applause and frequent screams erupted throughout the air as Paige walked in front of you.

You smiled to yourself seeing the outgoing love and support she received no matter where she went. It was all well deserved.

"They're all so cute" she gushed over the children running rampt across the court. Paige always loved kids and they loved her equally as much. "I know, we gotta get some good pictures with them! I'm gonna find a seat to get a good shot"

You had been urgent to put your digital camera to use and now was the perfect time. Soon you would have your own scrapbook filled with photos to embellish your core memories with the love of your life.

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

𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

𝟗:𝟒𝟕𝐩𝐦

“𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐤 𝐭𝐨𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞!!“ 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦. “𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐨 𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫“

You sighed looking up from the kindle, eager to finish the last chapter of your novel. You had already showered, did your skin care, had your sweet treat before bed and filled your Stanley with ice cold water for the night.

Paige on the other hand, insisted on going out with a couple of her friends who you absolutely adored, but once you were settled in bed, there was no going back out.

"You're right I'm not gonna say no, I'm going to nicely decline your offer" you stated, focusing your eyes back on your book.

"You just don't want to see me win" she groaned walking into the bedroom. Her footsteps heavier than usual causing you to pause your reading once more.

Looking up you met with Paige who had completely changed her outfit for earlier. Her black crop top was accompanied by her silver chain that read "pb5" " Her white collared button-up had slight paint splatter spread across it. Black distressed jorts flattered her tall frame perfectly, crips white air forces on her feet, per usual.

"You like the fit huh?" she beamed doing a 360 spin for your viewing

You couldn't hide your laugh as your admired her physic. She always looked utterly perfect. "You look so beautiful P, as always, but I'm still not making a tik tok with you"

She groaned once more, jumping on the bed rolling her into entire body onto yours, nearly suffocating you. "At least go out with me, pleaseee" she pleaded, burying her face into your neck.

Although Paige was always the life of the party, she adored you being there with her, even if it was from a distance. You were the puzzle piece keeping her together.

"Okay fine" you mumbled kissing her head softly "but I need more than 10 minutes to get ready so don't rush me this time"

Lifting her head she gave you a confused look "Why can't you wear what you have on?"

"My pajamas?!"

"it's dark in there, nobody is gonna see fr"

Snatching the pillow next to you, smacking her head against it. “Just get up so I can get ready Bueckers"

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

[emmyrosee]

Kuroo Tetsuro was put on this earth to have children.

Before your little twins were even a thought, he’d look longingly at young couples with kids, watching with the most dazed expression. He was always the first to smile at infants, wave at toddlers, and if the accompanying parents seemed to welcome his affections, he’d ask the young children questions.

So, the gods blessed him with twins. And 9 times out of 10, he’s the most thorough father you’ve ever known, and he’s so quick to know which child needs what, when, and why.

Right now, however, is the 1 out of 10. And it’s funny.

“There’s a tiny human at the end of our bed,” he whispers against your head, the raspiness of his voice rumbling against your temple.

“I sincerely hope you mean one of our children.”

Your joke makes Tetsuro laugh, slowly sitting up to peek at the cutest intruder in your doorway.

“Good morning, baby,” he mumbles, thick fingers pressing into his eyes to rub the sleep from them. You smile at your daughter at the foot of your bed, sleepily gazing at your little girl. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good, dadda,” she mumbles around her pacifier.

“Yeah? Where’s your sister?”

“Sleepin’.”

“She’s still sleeping?” He says, yawning softly, an arm wrapping around you to pull you closer. “How come you’re not still sleeping?”

“Bluey!” She squeals excitedly, pointing at the tv in your room.

This, has your husband’s eyes furrowing. His body shifts slightly, and his eyes dart to span over her tiny frame.

“You want to watch Bluey?” He asks, and you cock your brow up at him in confusion for his confusion.

“Uh-huh!” She crawls onto the foot of your bed with a finger extended to the big screen, “Bluey, please?”

“What’s wrong?” You whisper, grabbing the remote and clicking the tv so your tiny child is occupied.

Tetsuro leans over, pulling you close, enough to where his warm breath spans over your face.

“I don’t know which one that is,” he whispers, and you let out a soft snort.

“You really don’t know?”

“I know Hanako likes Bluey, but Hanae’s favorite pair of pj’s is the one that’s being worn right now.”

Your eyes flick back down to the figure at the bottom of your bed, who indeed, is wearing Hanae’s favorite green pajamas (Hanako’s are yellow), but is watching Bluey like no one’s business (Hanae immensely prefers paw patrol).

And in his defense… they are twins.

Looking the same is kind of what they do.

“What about her eyes?” You whisper back. Hanae has eyes like her fathers, while Hanako’s are more akin to yours.

“Couldn’t get a good look, it’s too early!”

“Pacifier color?”

“Baby they switch those regularly, you know better than to ask.”

Chewing on your lip, your eyes shift over your child’s excited eyes watching the tv. It’s true, if they weren’t identical enough, now they have to go and switch the few things that make them different.

“Who are you?” Tetsuro asks to no one, though it does make you giggle.

Then, you smile and slowly sit up, patting your husband’s chest lovingly. “Hey stinky,” you call, and you watch her messy black hair swish as she turns to face you. “Who do you like to hang out with more, uncle ken or uncle ko?”

The tiny human beams around the pacifier in her mouth, “uncle ko! ‘Cause he plays pirates with me in ‘da pool!”

You and tetsuro look at each other and grin.

Hanae.

Hanako was absolutely whipped for her uncle kenma.

“We should see him soon, shouldn’t we?” You ask, watching as Hanae bounces excitedly.

Tetsuro rolls his eyes as he sits up, “not before we see uncle Kenma, he’s already pouty that you like uncle Koutaro more, and I gotta hear about it.”

“Of course she likes him more,” you tease, slipping out of bed to start the day. “Hanae is practically attached to Koutarou’s leg; she told us she was going to marry him one day, remember?

“Gonna marry Uncle Kou one day!” Hanae chirps. “N’ Hanako’s gonna marry Uncle Kenma, ‘nd we’re all gonna marry Uncle Kei, and-“

“Do not do this to me so early,” Tetsuro groans, patting the bed for the little girl to snuggle with him. She does, with a happy little noise and a quick scurry close to him, and you can only watch with a smile as they watch Bluey together in the rays of the sun before shuffling off to make breakfast.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

out for a run

words: 900

warnings: established relationship, catcalling, physical violence!!!, description of blood, reader kinda crazy as well as rafe lolz

“you ready?” you ask rafe as you finish tying your tennis shoes before making sure your watch is strapped tight to your wrist.

“yup.” rafe says, still leaned up against a wall, not so subtly checking you out as his eyes look up and down your body, dressed in tight fitting leggings and a sports bra.

“earth to rafe.” you wave your hand past his face as you head towards the door, taking a final sip of water before you start your run.

“yeah, yeah.” rafe jogs to catch up to you, again admiring your body, this time from the back.

you go through a quick stretching routine once outside, warming up your muscles. you walk to the end of the driveway, occasionally swinging your knee back to kick your butt and warm up your thighs. 

rafe is right by your side as you start to run, keeping pace with you, even though he could probably go faster. rafe insists it's the perfect pace for him, but you know it's just because he wants to stay by your side.

you fall into a comfortable silence. you used to like listening to music during runs, but you've come to enjoy just the sounds of the outer banks, whether it be the distant waves or dogs barking, even the cars driving past provide you a bit of interest as your feet pound against the pavement.

a car horn suddenly beeps out, causing you to look over, making sure it's not directed at you.

you twist your face in disgust when you see a guy smirking at you out the window. he even has the audacity to roll down his window and shout. “nice tits!”

rafe doesn't hesitate, turning up his pace as he sprints onto the road after the truck, but it tears away, blowing through a stop sign.

“it's okay rafe.” you reach your hands to his shoulders, legs burning slightly from the sudden stop as he rejoins you on the sidewalk. “he's just some asshole, okay?”

“im gonna find out who he is and fucking kill him.” rafe grunts out, eyes staring into the distance like his glare can cause the man pain.

“alright, you gotta run your anger out.” you shove slightly on rafes shoulders. “go faster, it's okay. just circle back to meet me.”

rafe looks at you, then back in the direction of the truck, wondering how far it's gone. hopefully it's parked somewhere close and rafe can confront the asshole.

“call me if anything happens.” rafe says, planning to just run up and look down the streets of a couple blocks before rushing back to you.

“of course.” you give him another gentle shove, and rafe takes off.

you give your legs a little stretch, shins hurting slightly before starting to jog again, heading the direction rafe went. you always switch up your route, but it doesn't matter because you're always together. you figure the best thing to do is just stay going straight.

you get back into your groove quickly, listening to the birds chirping, the wind rustling through the trees, only for it to be interrupted by a quiet thud of skin hitting skin.

you look down the side street, eyes widening when you see the same truck as earlier, the driver now splayed out on the grass, rafe standing over him. 

you turn quickly in his direction, pushing your legs as hard as they can go as rafe kneels down over the guy, fisting one hand in his shirt and pulling his other arm back to punch him again.

“okay, rafe.” you grab his elbow when he raises it up to swing again. “i think he's learned his lesson.” the guys face has turned black and blue, blood dripping from his nose onto the green grass.

rafe stands, turning to place his hands on your shoulders, blocking your view of the creep with his wide chest. “come on baby, you don’t gotta see this.”

rafe turns to spit at him before leading you back in the direction you came when the guy has the gall to speak again. 

“your ass is as nice as your tits.” the words are slurred, rafe clearly did a number on him.

rafe turns, clearly he hasn't beat him well enough if he can't shut up even when he's lying on the ground bleeding, when you stop him with a hand on the bicep.

“i got this.” you say, turning towards the man, looking down at him with disgust, sorry you have to dirty your favorite pair of running shoes with his filth as you swing your leg forward, connecting your toe with his side.

he lets out a loud groan, twisting to cover his side, but it just gives you a better angle as you muster everything you learned from playing soccer in elementary school and kick again, directly in his stomach.

“you need to learn how to treat women with respect.” you spit onto his face as well, landing on the opposite cheek that rafes had.

“you're lucky i don't let my boyfriend at you again.” the guy is sobbing into the ground now, but you're not satisfied, giving him a kick right in his crotch to finish off your point.

“come on, rafe.” you begin to walk away as he looks at you with wide eyes.

“baby-” rafe hurries after you as you start to jog, turning back down the street like nothing happened.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @auryyz @raysmayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra @tobiaslut @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @drewsephrry

[spacedace]

“Hey, I need to get married for bullshit Infinite Realms reasons, you two in?”

“Tt, of course.”

“Sure thing! Do we need to get going for that like, right now? Or later?”

“Eh, like in a couple of hours? The Observants are demanding some Royal Ball or something and they pulled out some stupid old laws out of their collective asses that if I’m not married by the time it starts they can assign me spouses of their choosing, can you fucking believe that shit?”

“Woah, what the hell? Can they even do that?”

“I was under the impression they were only permitted to observe.”

“Right? It’s total crap, but apparently there’s like this super old law on the books and they didn’t bring it up until now when there’s like no time left to try and force me to marry someone they pick.”

“They are training to gain influence over you?”

“Eh, more like they’re trying to get control of my Dad by way of me. But still fucked as hell.”

“So why do you need to marry both of us? Or do you just need to marry one of us and we should play rock paper scissor for it?”

“Technically I only need to marry one of you, but I don’t want them pulling out any loopholes or something. So, it’d be great if one of you could be my consort for my role as Queen of Mirrors, and one could be my consort for my role as Crown Princess. You two can figure who’s who on that all that, I’m good with whatever.”

“Oooh, can I be consort for the Mirror Court? I can annoy Kon more that way.”

“I am amenable to that. Grandfather will have a fit when he learns that I can cut his access to the Pits off at my discretion and there’s nothing he can do about it.”

“Awesome, okay are you two good for meeting up at like, three? We can pop over to my Lair and get everything sorted out there.”

“Works for me, my only class til this afternoon is at one and the professor already said we’re cutting out early because she has to go out of town this weekend.”

“Four would be more agreeable if possible, I have to take Titus to the vet for his checkup.”

“Okay let’s aim for four then. It’s just signing some paperwork, making some quick blood-slash-ectoplasm pacts and swearing a couple binding oaths… Should only take like five or ten minutes?”

“They’re not gonna make you have a huge royal wedding or anything?”

“Nah. Dad keeps things pretty chill so as long as the paperwork is all in order we’ll be good. Though once Auntie Dorathea finds out she’s absolutely gonna make us have one. She loves planning weddings. Swear its what she makes her hoard out of somehow.”

“So long as we have a say in some of the proceedings I have no issue with that eventuality.”

“Same, it sounds like it’d be a fun way to annoy the Observants even more.”

“Don’t for get all the weirdos trying to be my suitors and all that bullshit.”

“We have an accord then. We can reconvene at the usual place.”

“Awesome, you two are the best! I gotta jet and let everyone know and get the ball rolling on the paperwork stuff. See you guys at four!”

With that, Nomad - Stella Phantom, Crown Princess of the Infinite Realms, Queen of Mirrors, Core of the Speedforce and ghostly hero of the Titans and the Justice League - tore a rip in the fabric of space and time and darted out of the room the same way she came. Through the mind-bending tear in reality the eerie, eye-searing green of the Infinite Realms glowed in all its unsettling glory, Phantom Keep a glittering expanse of night sky made solid in the distance.

Jon waved at her cheerfully as Damian gave a nod of farewell before both silently turned their attention back to their respective tablets as the portal closed behind their friend and teammate and the glimpse of the Ghost Zone disappeared again. Completely unbothered by the conversation just held or the life changing implications that came with them.

Jon was humming as he tapped away at something on the screen before him, Damian propping his head up on his fist in vague boredom as he frowned down at the information he was reading.

The rest of the room Nomad had left behind was caught in a frozen, stunned silence in the wake of the baffling conversation they’d all just been witness to. All eyes in the room darted between Flamebird and Pheonix seated calmly at the end of the table, then to the space where Nomad had disappeared to, back to the young men, and then towards the head of the table where Superman and Batman sat looking bewildered and a bit on the verge of heart attacks.

The short status update meeting was about to become much, much longer it seemed.

Though a lot more entertaining.

[glitter-stained]

Batfam Lantern AU:

Some of my hcs for Lantern!batfam and how they came to be.

Jason: Fuck, I hate you guys so much... All high and mighty, pretending like you give a shit when you keep enforcing a system that's not fucking working...

Tim: hey what's that in the sky?

Dick: God you're such a fucking asshole, if you hate us so much why are you even here?

Jason: Well because some poor fucker has to make sure-

Duke: Jason, watch out!

Jason: *gets knocked out by the sheer extreme speed at which the violet ring flung itself at him.*

****

Tim: Hey Dick, how are you? We heard about that argument you had with Bruce, and reopening old wounds and everything...

Dick: That's sweet, but I'm doing great, don't worry! Punched a bunch of criminals, hung out with friends, now I feel amazing. Of course, if it gets me an excuse to hang out with my little brother...

Tim: Cool, because I'm already breaking into your apartment and I'm -woah, what the fuck is that?

Dick: Oh, you like my new suit?

Tim: what the fuck holy shit is that a red lantern ring? Can you take it off?

Dick: I mean, I think I'll die? It's fine, it's fine, totally cool. Probably someone will have an idea how to fix it if I need to. I'm perfectly calm!

***

Izzy: Hey Duke, you feeling good about physics?

Duke: Wait what's in physics?

Izzy: The test...? That's gonna count for like half our grade...?

Duke, who meant to study this weekend but spent it sleeping off opioids after Croc nearly entirely gnawed off his foot: Ah, right, the test. It's going to be fine! I've figured stuff out with worse odds.

Izzy: If you say so! Hey what's that hovering ominously around you?

Duke, absent-mindedly pocketing a blue ring: hold on a second, gotta dip, Dick is texting me he needs help. You'll never guess what stupid shit he's gotten himself into.

***

Damian: Jordan! I challenge you in combat for the right to your ring!

Hal: Eh, kid... You really need a green lantern ring?

Damian: I shall prove I am as worthy of this honour as the rest of my fami- will you quit gazing off? What are you staring at?

Hal: *wordlessly points at the indigo ring floating behind him*

Damian: oh.

[epigstolary]

Real Talk

TW: Medical fatphobia, health issues, fat shaming, toxic masculinity

Dude, you say you want me to help you, but you’re going to have to get serious if you really want to start losing weight. I’m a trainer, not a miracle worker. I mean, look at you; you know your body’s fucking disgusting, right? You let yourself get so huge that even your fat guy clothes can’t hide your belly anymore. Every inch of you is covered in blubber. Everywhere you look. And you have to push all that fat around every time you want to walk or move. It’s so gross watching you try to go anywhere. You’re just waddling around under hundreds of pounds of fat, wheezing like you just ran a marathon. Like… people aren’t supposed to get to the size that you have. And don’t give me that “health at any size” bullshit. You’ve got to have some serious problems to get this big and think it’s ok. Nobody your size is healthy. Your body’s a fucking disgrace, tubbo.

You gotta realize just how bad being this fat is for you, right? Think about it. All that fat’s wrapping around your organs. Either they work harder, or they just quit working. Your joints are getting annihilated having to move all that extra weight around. Your heart’s having to work so much harder just to do its thing because you’re so fucking big. Your body’s not supposed to work like that. It feels like it’s under attack 24/7 — because it is — so you’ve got anxiety, you’ve got inflammation, your hormones are all out of wack. Your body chemistry is basically fucked once you get fat. And fucking forget about it when you weigh as much as three normal people, like your flabby ass does.

Not that you seem to care, since you pay zero attention to your diet. It’s just fucking scary, bro. I’ve seen you pound an entire pizza or a bag of burgers and be ready for more. And that’s just, like, a regular lunch for you. There’s so much saturated fat and sugar in all the shit you eat for every meal, it blows my mind that you’re even able to function. Where do you think that shit goes after you cram it down your throat, meal after meal? It’s blowing up your body even fatter. It’s clogging up those arteries to make that overworked heart work even harder. It’s running through all the insulin your body tries to pump out so that it can deal with the abuse you put it through. I bet if I went through your kitchen right now, I couldn’t find one goddamn vegetable — all sweets, and takeout, and chips, and junk food, am I right? Yeah, you love kicking back on the sofa and working through a big pile of garbage like that, don’t you, fatass? I bet you sit there just belly out, crumbs and shit all over your tits, like a big fucking blob, huh?

Keep eating like that, and you don’t have a fucking chance. You’re just gonna keep blowing up until you finally have the fucking big one. That shit is so, SO bad for you. You want to not be a total embarrassment, fatty? You’re gonna have to throw the snack cakes in the garbage. You’re gonna have to cook stuff that’s not loaded with butter or grease or sugar. You’re gonna have to eat something green that grows in the ground every once in a while. And yeah, you’re probably going to feel like shit for a while because your body’s used to getting fed lard nonstop all the fucking time. But you gotta get a little self-control. The whole reason why you look like a fucking enormous cow, why you’ve got that belly packed full of fat fucking garbage, is that you’ve never had any.

I guess what I can’t figure out is, why the fuck did you do this to yourself? It’s so much harder to make it through life when you’re this fucking heavy. You can’t even go anywhere or do anything because you’re too fat to leave the house. Everyone you meet has to be shocked at what a lardass you are. Nobody who sees your disgustingly obese body is gonna want to fuck you, except the fucking weirdos who get off on that shit. Maybe that’s who you have to settle for, since there’s no way you’re reaching your dick with all that fat in the way. God, I can’t even imagine letting myself get too fat to be able to fuck. That’s so fucking gross, bro.

Like, look at me. Look at this rock-hard bicep next to that big flabby fucking water wing of an arm you have. Look at these abs next to you and that belly hanging down to your knees. It doesn’t even have a fucking shape. Look at these tight glutes next to that wide, wobbling, fat ass you’ve gotten from sitting in front of the tv stuffing your fat face for years. With a body like this, I can fuck anyone I want. How do you think that same hookup’s gonna go for you, huh? Nobody out there’s going home with a pile of jello like you You’re going home, alone, to try and figure out a way to get yourself off.

And dude, I’m not saying all this just to shit on you. I’m worried about you. It sucks to see my bro blow up into a fucking whale and get all mopey ‘cause he can’t get any ass. But you need someone to be real with you. Someone’s gotta tell you how much of a fatass you are, and how much of a fatass you’re gonna be until you get to the gym and shut this fast food and shit down. You can’t blame anyone but yourself for how you got this way. Keep complaining, and you’re going to keep being a gross fatty. You’re gonna have to go out, get some fucking exercise, and deal with being embarrassed at being the fattest guy at the gym until you’ve put in the work to fix it.

Trust me, bro, you’ll thank me later.

[kekaki-cupcakes]

Heyy! Could I request Jason x Child of Nyx! Reader, i'd figure it'd be a cool thing since you know Zeus and Nyx don't really like each other that and then their children fall in love.

You don't have to do it, if you don't want to and ps. I love all of your works! <3

okay so these have been sitting in my inbox since eons ago, so I decided I was gonna set myself a minimum of 0.4k words because I figured people would rather read a lil bit of their request rather then non of it, but I just churned out 1.2k words of this and I know more then the gods do about nocturnal animals.

enjoy <3

he was raised by wolves - Jason G x child of Nyx reader/animal lover

»»————-　★　————-««

Jason dumped his teddy bear jacket on the back of the spinning chair, after he checked there were no hedgehogs eating plum offcuts on it. He’d made that mistake one too many times. There were a lot of miniscule holes in the sleeves of his jacket. 

The medical kit he was looking for was most likely in one of the crates stacked beneath the snake table. The table with the snake tanks on it, obviously. 

Your cabin was dark a lot of the time, when you weren’t there, courtesy of the kingdom of nocturnal animals lurking between books and in pillowcases, so Jason had to turn on a few of the antique lamps you’d found [on the side of the road, of course] so that other people could see.

He got to his knees, wincing at the crack he heard. 

He could also hear a faint hissing. He looked into one of the tanks, and waved at Benjamin. Benjamin was a northern desert night snake. Meaning he looked like if a leopard wearing a choker was turned into a slithery little serpent. Jason was glad you’d passed that pet leopard you used to have onto Pollux and Castor. It got fur all over his clothes.

Benjamin just stuck his tongue out at him, and Jason crawled underneath the desk, looking for the first aid kit every cabin was supposed to have.

There was a pretty high chance you had chucked it out to make room for that little collection of shrinking green frogs you had found in a river by the Hecate cabin, deep in the woods so that when they accidentally cursed bloodlines and the like, no one was in imminent danger. Lou Ellen owed her first born to three different beings, but that was irrelevant. 

He dug past a few boxes of sugar glider pellets, and found the first aid kit. 

“JASON GRACE, SON OF A BITCH, CHILD OF ROME, CONSUL OF DEMIGODS, PRAETOR OF THE FIRST LEGION!”

Jason sat straight up. A thud echoed through the low lit little cabin, and his head began to pound. He’d hit it on the bottom of the snake table. He sniffed, “I said that once.” 

He heard you trot over as he tried to extract himself, the back of his head throbbing painfully. 

“Babe, we talked about this,” you fussed, and yanked him out into the open with the force of someone who took chocolate out of coyotes mouths on the daily. “You gotta stop banging your head! You’re getting that chronic pain from it that Will told you about!”

Jason grumbled about nothing, and squinted as he looked around. Your face was just a blob. 

“You dropped your glasses babe, hear, lemme… wait, hold this,” you said, dumping your wrapped up hoodie into his arms, the one with the moon cycle phases on the back, and then crawling back underneath the snake table. “I’ve got em!”

He watched you slide them back onto his eyes, your hands actually very gentle compared to the yanking from before. He tried not to grin stupidly. The hoodie in his arms wriggled. Jason looked down, and a small spiky red face looked up at him with big shiny eyes.

“Uh…” he said.

You stood up with a huff, “I knew it, you’ve got a concussion. Now you’re slurring your speech!”

“...No, I just wasn’t expecting a fox,” Jason managed to squeak out, staring at the little animal. It was pretty cute. It reminded him of a wolf, but not the wolves he knew, more of a spindly wolf dipped in ketchup. 

You paused, the first aid kit in your hands. “You weren’t? What did you think I was doing in the forest?” 

“I don’t know,” Jason said, standing back up and moving to the squishy blanketed bed behind the humongous crystal ball and stack of telescopes. There were also a few cat playgrounds to weave around, but he managed to sink into your pile of bat shaped teddies and pillows. “Fighting monsters, near death experiences, something regular?”

You rolled your eyes, and sat cross legged on the bed, reaching for his head with those gentle hands that made him understand how you could pick up the deadliest of spiders and feralist of wolverines without even a scratch. 

Jason wasn’t even nocturnal, but he did sink into your hold. 

Then you let go to crack the unfrozen ice pack and let the chemicals take over until it would make the tips of your fingers freezing. Jason knew to expect your cold hands under his shirt, trying to freeze him out. 

He was sort of used to it, though.  

He looked around your cabin while you savagely whacked the poor icepack against one of the many thick framed mirrors lining your walls. A few bats flapped out of their hiding places in the rafters and settled back down. A baby puma hissed from its place by the umbrella stand that was actually just full of swords. 

From the outside, your cabin looked like a tiny portion of a haunted mansion plonked between the Asteria cabin and the Hestia cabin, which was really just a cozy little room for anyone. Jason pet the soft head of the fox napping in his arms. On the inside, though, it was just old lamps and chew toys and even older mirrors. And a lot of poo bags. And record players. And Jason’s hoodies.

You were already wearing his teddy bear jacket, but he didn’t argue when you pressed the ice pack to his head.

“So, what were you really lookin for in there, babe?” you asked, taking back the fox. You held your hand out, and it disappeared into a shadow. 

“Bandages.”

On the other side of the room, out of a shadow, you grabbed a ziploc bag of raspberries. You pulled it back and began feeding the little fox, red staining your cold fingertips. 

“You know you can’t beat Beth, right?” you teased, looking up for a moment with those gorgeous eyes that made Jason’s head feel a little floaty. Or maybe it was just the injury. 

You smirked, “I mean, not that it’s totally not hot when you beat the shit out of people or anything.”

Yep. Definitely just the head injury. Totally.

Jason ate a slightly squashed raspberry. “I know, but I wanted to practise. I was gonna find Will. Can’t remember how to wrap my wrists.”

You passed over the fox, who wiggled out of the hoodie and curled around a fruit bat Squishmellow with a yawn, fangs stained with red that may or may not be berries or blood. 

Jason shuffled forwards on the bed, ice pack falling from his white blonde hair. “My turn?”

“I thought you were going to get the shit beaten out of you by Annabeth?” You said with a smirk. You had that shark tooth necklace on. Jason gave you a half hearted evil eye, and you opened your arms.

He flopped into the hug, pushing you both back onto the bed. A Tasmanian devil [how? You were in America!] and a grumpy looking white tailed deer and about seven different types of bush mice stared at you. 

Jason didn’t care. He snuggled into your hug, chin on your chest. Your fingers ran through his hair.  

He was your favorite feral animal. 

»»————-　★　————-««

[seths-rogens]

cardboard houses, cardboard hearts | M | 1.9k | ao3

should’ve been finishing my infidelity au, but instead the cardboard joe cutout i was given inspired me to crank this out in one sitting,, anyway, please enjoy :)

—————

Eddie often thanks God that he took the leap and moved to Indianapolis after he finally graduated high school. Not that he really believes in God. Just… figure of speech and all. Though, maybe he’d believe in God if they were a metalhead with tatties and an eyebrow piercing, but he thinks that might ruin their image honestly.

He’s getting off topic.

Eddie often thanks God for Indy in moments like these. Moments where he has a fucking beautiful man pinned to his own front door, strong, thick fingers tangling in his hair as Eddie desperately tries to fit his key into the lock. He shoves his thigh between Pretty Man’s legs - he didn’t catch his name - and presses upwards. Pretty Man whines, grinding down and making it all that more difficult to unlock the goddamn door.

“Hold on, Sweetheart. I just gotta-“ Eddie bites back a groan as Pretty Man kisses down his neck, sucking a bruise over his pulse as the key finally slips into the lock. Chrissy’s never gonna let him live the marks down.

He’s surprised he picked anyone up tonight at all. He’d gone to a concert alone for once, as Chrissy was staying at her new girlfriend’s place, and Gareth and Jeff weren’t the biggest fans of his guilty pleasure artist ‘King S’.

And honestly? In any other world. Eddie wouldn’t be either.

King S isn’t his usual style. Where Eddie usually loves a hard drumline, thrashing guitars and lyrics you can only scream, King S is all soft melodies and crooning vocals set to slow drum beats.

He’d stumbled upon him completely by accident, honestly. It’d been a slow day at the record store Eddie manages. He’d been there for nearly five hours and so far he’d only served maybe three customers - and two of those customers were an old couple shopping for their granddaughter. So he’d picked the first magazine he could reach off the stand by the counter, and flipped it open to a random page.

It’d been an interview with King S, who’d just released his first album at the time. He was talking about his inspiration for making music - his best friend and little brother who, he’s quoted as saying, ‘always ragged on him when he played his pop shit in the car’ - and the meaning behind his stage name - reclaiming an old high school nickname he’d been given after his brief stint as a bit of a mean girl, though now he promises he’s using it for good.

He’d flipped the page to find a double page spread of King S curled up in a bathtub. His eyes were squeezed shut through the lacy masquerade mask that was supposedly his staple (no one knew his real identity after all). His hair was messy and flying all over the place. He was…

He was naked. Or at least that’s how it seemed.

His arms and legs were bare, the black and white photo only emphasising the toned curves of the muscles in his arms and back and the dark hair covering those lush thighs.

Call him obvious but Eddie had been intrigued. He knew they’d received a new shipment of records that morning that weren’t supposed to be hitting the shelves until the next day, so he figured what the hell!

Ten minutes later, elbow deep in a shoddily painted green wooden crate, Eddie emerged victorious with King S’s debut album ‘Robins and Tadpoles’ in his hands.

The album cover was two people’s hands clasped together, matching ice cream cone tattoos on both wrists. There was a little dedication on the back. To R & D.

He took it out to the turntable on the shop floor and dropped the needle. When the soft music started, he was hesitant, but as the album moved on he quickly realised he was hooked.

He’d gone into the shop bright and early the next day - on his day off no less - and bought the album. Only slightly laughing at the look on Mike’s - part time Lit student, part time cashier, full time grump - face.

That had been two years ago, and Eddie had been solidly on the King S train since.

Sure, Gareth and Jeff - and Grant too when he was in town - would tease him about abandoning his people, about betraying the freaks and the weirdos, but really they supported his love for the artist, even if they didn’t quite get it.

So when King S announced a stop in Indy on his second album tour, the guys (and Chrissy) had banded together to get him tickets as an early 26th birthday present. Except when the day came, they were all busy, so he went by himself.

He didn’t mind really, was just happy to be there to appreciate the music. (And the man himself, Eddie has eyes, come on now.)

Elated and feeling just a little self fulfilled after the concert, Eddie had gone to his favourite queer/metal bar, Crash. He’s picked people up there before, sure, but they’ve all been metalheads, just like him, and as many of his friends have said in the past, he’s cursed to have the hots for the preppy jock types.

Usually, that’s not the type of guy he’d find in Crash. Tonight was different.

Eddie had been sat at the bar, thinking about King S’s arms beneath the crimson sweater he wore on stage, when a gorgeous man had stepped up beside him to buy a beer. The man was wearing a dark, charcoal coloured t-shirt under a light grey Members Only jacket, paired with light blue levi’s.

Eddie kinda felt his jaw hit the floor. Could this be the perfect end to the perfect night?

This brings us back to now. Eddie finally pushes the door open, swings Pretty Man around and pushes him back against it.

He drops his keys somewhere. It doesn’t matter. He’ll find them tomorrow.

They’re grinding fast against one another now, only their harsh, panting breaths filling the silence of Eddie’s apartment. Eddie slides his hand into Pretty Man’s hair, tugs on this side of too hard. Pretty Man moans, loud, almost echoing, and tilts his head to the side, baring his neck for Eddie to defile.

Eddie leans in, presses his lips to those two little moles, and—

“What the fuck?”

Eddie pulls back to look at Pretty Man’s face. He’s still, not looking at Eddie, instead staring with wide eyes into the open plan of Eddie’s living room.

Eddie follows his gaze and… Oh. Yeah. He forgot about that.

See the King S tickets hadn’t been Eddie’s only birthday gift. He knew this would come back to bite him in the ass, but his friends thought it was hilarious. Eddie thinks they’re assholes.

Because Pretty Man is staring at a life size cutout of King S, standing by the wall.

Eddie winces, pulls away. This guy might not look like a metalhead, but he was in a metal bar, there’s no way he listens to King S. He’s gotta come up with an explanation for this, and fast.

“Um, yeah… About that… would you believe me if I said I didn’t buy it?” He asks sheepishly, avoiding Pretty Man’s eyes.

“You’re a fan?” Pretty Man asks, except he sounds dejected, which Eddie thinks is weird. And actually? Fuck this guy. He’s allowed to like whatever he wants.

“Yeah, man. What’s wrong with that? Maybe it’s not for everyone but King S actually makes really good music.” He gets more than a little defensive, takes a step back and crosses his arms over his chest.

“No, no… that’s not what I meant.” Pretty Man raises his hands placatingly.

“Then what did you mean?”

Pretty Man sighs, rubs a hand over his face. “Don’t you recognise me?”

Eddie furrows his brow in confusion. “Do I like, know you or something?”

Pretty Man raises his eyes to the ceiling like this is difficult. “Really? Nothing?”

Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t…” Pretty man nods, sighs, and then walks past Eddie further into the apartment. “Hey, you can’t just—“

“How about now?” Pretty Man asks, stopping right next to the cardboard cut out.

Eddie flits his eyes between the man and the cut out, trying to understand what Pretty Man is getting at until he sighs again, pulls down the sleeve of his jacket to reveal…

A tattoo of an ice cream cone, and suddenly it all clicks.

Oh. Oh no. That’s… oh holy ever loving fuck.

“Holy shit!” Eddie exclaims, pointing frantically between Pretty Man and the cardboard. “You’re King S!”

“Yeah. It’s uh, Steve, actually.” Pretty Man, King S, Steve nods, seeming much more shy than he was ten minutes ago. He’s curled his arms around himself, trying to make himself shrink. Eddie feels bad.

“Did you think I was trying to sleep with you because you’re famous?”

“I mean, weren’t you?” Steve won’t meet his eye. Instead he’s staring around the room, taking in all the little details of Eddie’s life.

Eddie takes a step towards him. “No, man. I just thought you were pretty, that’s all.”

“You really didn’t know who I was?” Though he still looks unsure, Steve finally meets his eye.

Eddie shakes his head, coming to a stop in front of Steve. “I didn’t even buy that thing, dude. My friends thought it would be funny because you’re like, the only non-metal artist I listen to.”

Steve smiles at that. He really is so pretty, Eddie can’t help but think. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, man. Heard your first album right after it came out and I was hooked!” Eddie laughs softly. “I used to be a little bit narrow minded when it came to music, but I heard yours and it’s like the world of music blasted wide open.”

A pretty pink blush spreads its way across Steve’s cheeks. “Oh, uh… That’s really cool. I’m glad you like it.”

“I was at your show tonight, actually.”

“You were?”

“Yeah!” He shrugs. “I used to play in a band in high school, we were never very good but I liked to think I had good stage presence, right?” Steve nods and Eddie grins, leaning in a little. “I was nothing compared to you. It was fucking electric, I felt like my skin was buzzing.”

Steve’s smile seems to grow even wider. He sways forward into Eddie’s space, almost unconsciously. “This might be crazy, but do you wanna start over? Forgo the one night stand and just, I don’t know, get coffee or something? I know this cute little 24 hour place, Victoria Street, it’s only a couple blocks away.”

Eddie narrows his eyes a little. “Stevie… barely anyone knows Victoria Street. Are you, dare I say it… local?”

Steve’s cheeks darken even further. “Maybe.”

Eddie laughs. “Then, I’d love to start over. I wanna get to know you as Steve, not King S.”

Steve slips his hand into Eddie’s, tugs him

back towards the door. “God, how much do you know..?”

“I may have read a couple interviews.”

Steve groans, embarrassed, as the door clicks shut behind them.

Then, a few moments later. “Shit! My keys!”

The date goes well. As does the second, and the third, and so on, and so on. They’re officially exclusive by date 7.

Steve meets Chrissy and the boys on date 20. Eddie meets Dustin and Robin, right before date 45.

On date 94, Steve presents his third album to Eddie. There’s a different dedication on the back cover this time.

To E, my love.

——————

taglist: @judasofsuburbia @gothbat99 @cheatghost @flowercrowngods @fastcardotmp3 @simplebtromance @gonzofromspace

lemme know if u wanna be added to a permanent taglist for anything i do in the future, i’m thinkin’ that might be funky :)

[kaliforniahigh]

Request: "Matt Dierkes x wife reader smutty one shot where they get caught on the tour bus or other random places?" Thank you so much for the request!

Warnings: cursing and a steamy make out session but no actual smut (they get caught before the act)

WC: 1.6k (not proofread yet!)

Requests are closed for now.

You loved going on tour with Matt, specially since you worked together. You were a lighting engineer for the band and you met Matt when you started working for the band a couple of years back.

The attraction was instant between you and everyone could notice. The way he never got mad at you - quite the contrary, the boy always seemed to have an extra soft spot for you - and the way you always worried if he was well - tour could be pretty hectic and take a toll on your health - were a dead giveaway that something was blossoming between you.

Despite everyone rooting for you to get together, there were the people who warned you about working with your partner. They told you that it never worked, and that you would fight all the time.

But you always told them that if it ever came to it, you and Matt could separate your professional lives from your personal ones, because you were adults, after all.

Now, a couple of years later, you and Matt not only established a relationship, but you also decided to get married not too long ago. Most days it didn't even feel like working with your husband, because you just went about your routines as per usual.

It was rare that Matt got angry with anyone really, he was pretty chill overall and used to dealing with things going wrong, so you felt like nothing really affected him anymore.

Today, though, was one of those days where everything seemed to be going wrong. First, the tour bus broke down on the road because of the cold, which made you guys late for the concert. Then, some of the sound equipment decided not to work and the panels were off and no one could figure out how to get those damn things working.

You could hear the fans outside waiting to come in and the stress of being late already and not having things ready were weighing on his shoulders. You could hear him in the distance him talking on the phone with the venue manager. Something about how the hell was he not here to help with the technical difficulties that most likely were being caused by his shitty venue.

You left him to it, and since your lighting equipment was already set up - thank god this one thing worked out tonight - you went to help the other guys. Everything seemed to plugged in in the right places and still, nothing was working. Even Noah, Jolly and the Nicks were helping at this point.

"Guys", Matt approached you all with a sigh. "The venue manager told me everything was working accordingly just a couple of days go, which is obviously bullshit", he rubbed his forehead, a clear sign of stress. You wanted to smooth out the creases yourself, but refrained from it.

"How are we gonna perform without our equipment?", Jolly asked, a hint of desperation in his voice.

"That's the thing, I don't think we will", Matt answered. Every band's fear was becoming a reality right before your eyes.

"Are we gonna have to cancel?", Noah voiced what everyone was thinking. Matt only nodded. "What about the fans waiting outside?"

"I'm really sorry, this is really not what I wanted to do, trust me. We could try and find another venue, but we gotta be in another city tomorrow. We might have to reimburse the people who paid for tickets for today", you could tell he was disappointed in having to do this. Matt was a problem solver kind of person, and having to deal with a problem he couldn't solve was killing him.

After a little more debate, everyone agreed that canceling was the best thing to do due to the circumstances. Noah and the guys went back to the green room talking about how they're gonna sue the venue manager.

"I'm gonna go out there and tell those people that the band they love is not performing tonight. You guys can start loading the things back in the bus", he started to turn around, but you went after him.

"Hey", you called out and he looked at you. "I'll go with you. You don't have to do this alone", you took your hand in his.

"You don't have to do this, baby. I'm used to it, it's part of the job anyways", he reassured you, rubbing his thumb on the back of your hand.

"I know that you can handle yourself. But I wanna go with regardless", he only nodded, knowing it was useless arguing with you, and you followed him outside.

The annoucement was met with complaints, angry remarks and a few crying faces. Matt knew this wasn't directed at him, but it broke his heart regardless. All these people with the hopes of having an unforgettable night would have to go back to their homes without watching Bad Omens perform.

He said sorry one more time and rushed back inside the venue. You said sorry yourself and followed him. You looked around you and saw that your lighting equipment was already being loaded back in the boxes and decided to check were Matt headed to.

You asked around and a few people told you they saw him going in the direction of the bathrooms. You made your way down the hall and knocked on the men's restoroom door, hearing him answer with a "yeah" on the other side of the door. He was probably wondering who the hell was bothering him when he was in the bathroom.

"You alone in there?" you asked him. Recognizing it was you, he opened the door and you made your way inside, closing it again behind you.

"You just ran off, I got worried about you", you told him as you took his face in your hands.

"I got so angry when I saw all those people out there, just waiting", he huffed in frustration.

"I know, baby. But this isn't your fault, and it probably won't be the last time you'll have to cancel", you tried to reason with him.

"I know, I'm just so fucking mad at that fucking venue manager who told me 'everything is working perfectly, are you sure it's not your equipment that's low quality?'", he used air quotes to tell you what the venue manager has the nerve to tell him. "He obviously ripped us off because he wasn't even here, he knows his venue is fucking shit", he spat, in anger. You waited a few seconds to say anything, just in case he needed to vent some more. But he just took a few deep breaths to calm himself down.

"I'm sorry, you don't deserve to hear all this", he apologized, resting his hands on your hips. You let a little smile grace your lips. You knew how to make him feel better.

"It's kind of hot when you get all angry like this", you said with a low voice and a hint of playfulness. He finally cracked and smirked a little at your remark.

"Yeah? You like it, babe?", you nodded and pressed yourself closer to him. "You know, you're my silver lining in all of this, right?", he said, lips inches away from yours, eyes travelling between your eyes and lips.

"I think I don't. Will need you to show me", you teased him and in a few seconds, his lips crashed on yours, pushing you backwards with the force, your back hitting the marble countertop behind you.

The kiss was fervent, an indicator of his mood and how this bathroom rendezvous was gonna go. You both moaned into the kiss, your hands tangling in his hair as he hoisted you up on the counter.

His hands traveled up your torso under your shirt and you lifted your arms for him to take it off, you skin prickling with goosebumps from the cold air.

His mouth immediatly moved to kiss your shoulders and down the valley of your brests.

"Fuck, you're everything I need right now", he hummed into your skin and you only moaned in acknowledgment.

"Take your shirt off, please", you said, voice sounding a little breathless, and he moved away from your body to peel off the layer of clothing.

"C'mere", he helped you down from the counter and turned you around, pushing your head down and making you bend your back, ass up in the air.

He kissed your spine and ran his hand over the fat of your ass, delivering a spank that made you yelp in surprise. His clothed crotch was pressed into you, and you could feel how hard he was under his pants.

He was about to yank your pants down your legs when the door swung open, both of you whipping your heads to the side, only to meet the shocked expression on Ruffilo's face.

You were still bend over the counter when you heard Matt tell him to 'get the fuck out', and Nick muttered a few apologies before closing the door behind him.

You looked at Matt through the mirror in front of you and you both started to giggle at the situation. Eventually, you stood up straight and turned around to face him. It was like Nick's entrance popped your little bubble entirely.

"Probably not the best idea to fuck in the bathroom, huh?" you asked in a teasing tone.

"That's you pushing me to make bad decisions", he smiled and gave you a peck on the lips. "As much as I loved our little almost escapade, we should probably get back out there", he stated, in a little disappointed tone.

You agreed with him and you both made your way out of the bathroom.

"We'll stay at a hotel room in the next city and then I'll make sure to bend you over the counter and fuck you good", he whispered in your ear, making you stop in your tracks, mouth agape.

He kept walking and laughed at the state he just left you.

[pshwrldd]

Sorry… part 2

>< pairings…: minghao!ceo!husband! X female!reader

. ^^ Genre : fluff.

**warnings: skinship, kissing (lmk if i missed anything!!)*

Part 1. Part 2

‼️NOT PROOFREAD‼️

It’s been a week since the both of you fought. You can't help but remember what occurred that night, but you attempted to forget and push aside those thoughts as whenever the thought comes in mind, you' feel like tearing up, which will make Minghao worry. But it seems like luck is on your side because today minghao had apparently planned a surprise for you. He told you to dress casual and comfortable. Despite being slightly upset at him, you couldn’t help but follow his request and feel excited.

you followed what he told you, wearing a simple sage green sweater and white jeans. After getting ready, you sat on the couch waiting for minghao impatiently, excited for the suprise. Just as you were gonna call him out, he appeared out using a coat whith a white dress shirt underneath and jet black pants holding his phone and and car keys. You can’t help but stare as the beautiful figure infront of you. The way his dress shirt outlines his toned chest and body. You snapped out of your spell when u heard minghao chuckled then saying,

“Sweetheart? You fine? You look like you’re gonna drool”

You returned his statement with a glare and stood up,

“are we leaving yet?”

you walked towards the doorway and exited the house as minghao hummed in response. As you were walking towards the car, you suddenly saw minghao jogged past you to open the car door for you. You smiled softly feeling touched at that simple gesture. You entered the car and closed the door as minghao walked to the drivers seat.

You were silent throughout the whole car ride. You leaned againts the seat of your husband’s black austin martin. You stared out the window the whole car ride, feeling a bit guilty for getting mad at minghao. Minghao realised your silence and decided to break it,

“sweetheart? Are you alright?”

you turned ur head to him and nodded with a smile,

“yep, all fine, just excited”

*‼️readers pov‼️*

when i arrived to your destination, i unbuckled my seatbelt and was about to exit the car when minghao stopped me.

“wait, i need you to close ur eyes”

i looked at him confused and exited the car, following what minghao requested, i closed my eyes. I felt a pair of hands on my shoulder as he lead me to out final destination.

as i thought this would go on forever, i felt minghao’s grip on my shoulders tighten signalling me to stop walking. Then minghao removed his hands and whispered,

“baby… you ready for the suprise? You can open your eyes now”

end of reader pov‼️*

you opened ur eyes nervously, not knowing what to expect. As you opened your eyes, you were greeted with a beautiful picnic set up with a mini tent and fairy light all around it. There were your favourite comfort snacks and a bouquet of your favourite flowers, tulips. You turned to minghao shocked and immediately hugged him tightly, pressing him againts your body. Minghao chuckled at your reaction and hugged you back.

“you like it hmm?”

“are you seriously asking me that now hao? I love it, so much.” You replied placing a soft kiss on minghaos lips. From that night on, you knew, minghao’s apologies were real.

nanas love note: I DEFINITELY DID NOT CRIED WRITING THIS😖 this is probably the longest yet sweetest one yet. Prob one of my favourite works now. Ik i said on Tuesday but SUPRISE<3💗 ANYWAYS AS PER USUALL, gotta give my special thanks to @icyy-hoon for helping me with this MASTERPIECE🫶🏻 i hope you like it and for those who haven’t read part 1, GO READ IT‼️

Taglist<3 : @jaysng @amorek1m @icyy-hoon @jakesangel @mr-jypark

[writing-with-moss]

“Valkyrie?”, “yep, that’s my girl.” Pt. 1

(Authors note!) I’ve mostly been writing OC stuff and I’m getting back into writing more COD fiction because it’s what does best on this app 😔 (also I have this stupid pimple on my face and it hurts so bad I hate my life)

Tw/cw: none!

Ghost x Female!OC

Rory ‘Valkyrie’ O’Connor. Originally a lieutenant in another private military company, she transferred over to TF141. The only female on the team, in both her previous job and now, she tended to work harder to prove herself.

Price liked that in a person. Headstrong. A good leader. But she had empathy. Kindness. A sweetness outside of work that they hadn’t squashed out of her.

She kept Soap and Gaz in line without being a stuck up bastard. Liked to piss off Graves. Learned sign language for Roach. But with Ghost? Price never truly knew what was going on with them.

She was still new. Only 2 weeks ago she had driven to base and introduced herself. —————-——————————————————

The rain was pouring down heavily, Price could barely light his stupid cigar in the warm spring air. Muggy. Awful.

The car pulled up, a flash of ginger hair pulled his attention up. She was a few inches shorter than him. Freckles spanning her skin with a duffel bag thrown over her shoulder.

“Lieutenant Valkyrie sir.” She shakes his hand.

“Captain Price.” She had a firm grip, calloused palms and a strong handshake. Good eye contact, good posture. Her features were delicate, soft jaw, heavy eyelids with mascara coated eyelashes.

“come inside, the rains brutal.”

“I know right?” She smiles, it was a lopsided grin, he wished his soldiers would find it easy to smile. ————————————————————————

A quiet night. Silent. The silence after a rough mission. Where no one talked. No one looked at each other. Even Soap was quiet. Which was a first.

The kitchen was tucked away in the corner. A hulking figure standing over the counter. Large fingers searching through the medkit.

“Ghost?” An Irish accent calls from the doorway and the masked figure turns.

“hm?” His voice was more of a grumble you felt in your chest. Soft green eyes met sharp blue ones. She was dressed in SpecGru sweatpants and a t-shirt that fit against her form. She shrugged.

“Need some help big lad?” She walks over, frowning as the large gash in his palm. “Gotta be more careful y’a know. Gonna end up dead, don’t need any more people dead.”

he tenses at that sentence and she mumbles an apology. “Sorry. Bad word choice.”

She grabs a needle. “We’ve never really talked.”

“You’re friends with Johnny.” She nods at his words, sitting him down as she takes his hand.

“he’s Scottish, I’m Irish. It was bound to happen.” She chuckles, shaking her head. “Dumbarse I tell ya. But a lovable one at tha’.”

Ghost nods, staring up at her. “Valkyrie-“

“it’s Rory. Just call me Rory.”

“graves doesn’t call you that.” He points out as she gently stitched up his hand.

“Because Graves a virgin ejjit who can’t get shagged to save a life.” That earns an amused huff of air out of the soldier as she shakes his head.

“Damn write I suppose.”

(I wrote this at like 3:30 so it’s not good but it’s enough. Bye love y’a!)

[indouloureux]

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐄

summary: in frenzied expeditions, eddie lets his anger snap and indulges in something... new.

content warnings: ghostface!eddie. character death (no one major), murder, eddie and reader being lovesick psychopaths, kinda shitty writing, gore, graphic depictions of violence. SMUT (18+ MDNI), (a warning that's a spoiler), knife play, blood kink, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (m receiving), ball play, gagging, facefucking, overstimulation, kitchen sex??

a/n: in honor of halloween; idk how to explain this. i hope u guys like it. i wrote it within two days. this was kinda rushed. reblogs and comments are appreciated. thank u my girls @mysticmunson and @lilacletter for beta-reading!!

“Hello?”

“Hi, sweetheart,”

Funny how that baritone dulcetness of a voice was easily recognizable. But it was probably because you’ve heard it in many different ways possible that this experimentation seemed familiar to you. Even with his speech choppy from the static of the RT. 

“Hey, Eddie,” RT balanced between your ear and shoulder, you take the popcorn out from the microwave, the hot bowl seethes on your poor fingers but you could care less; the burning feeling felt good. “Where are you?”

“On my way,” his voice is slightly garbled. “Just got held up from the drive thru, babe. Don’t start the film without me,”

“Of course,” you chuckle. “Andy’s right here. He’s, uh, out by the pool smoking. The others are on their way though,”

He spits out an obscenity at what you think is an unforeseen speed bump, then a clutter that probably meant his RT fell to the ground. Then his voice is faint next: “I don’t understand why we invited these dickheads,”

“It’s for a truce,” you place the bowl on the countertop, crossing your arms over your white linen sweater, the soft cotton tickling your wrists. “I mean, baby, come on. You graduated! And so did they and, y’know, they want to fix things before they head off to college. And- Eddie, come on, you agreed!”

“I did. But, I just don’t know why we have to watch a movie at your place. You’re alone with Andy right now and I’m still twenty minutes away,”

You hear something slam in the background over his side. You frown, eyes scanning for Andy’s figure out in the backyard; a silver mist hovers over the teal pool, dark green grass almost black, the moon glinting its sharp tips. 

And then there’s Andy, with his hands in his hips and a cigarette in his mouth. He turns and waves at you. You wave back.

“Andy’s not here with me. He’s outside, remember?” you pop a popcorn into your mouth, bending over the counter with your elbow on the marbled gloss. “You gotta relax, Eds. I’m fine. If he touches me, I could just… stab him,”

"You wouldn't,"

“I would,”

“You caught a rat and sent it away. You didn’t even drown it, or gut it. Or chop its head off,”

Laughing softly, you take the bowl into your hands and head over to the living room, placing it on the coffee table, aligning the stack of movies properly. “Doing that is, like, practically murder. Why don’t they include those cute little rats in the anti-animal abuse law? They’re still animals!”

“They’re pests, sweetheart.”

“Still an animal. And they're cute. Rodents are cute,” you plop down on the couch in a small bounce, not before you give Andy one last glance who seems to be staring at something across the fence. It’s probably just a squirrel. “What about you? Are you brave enough to kill a rat?”

“Oh, princess,” you can imagine him shaking his head, RT resting on the vacant seat beside him, replacing you. “You know I can do so much more than just kill a rat,”

“Spooky,” flipping your hair behind you, you giggle into the microphone. “Make it quick, please? I’m starving and popcorn’s not gonna suffice this hunger. I could eat a horse, or- I dunno, a person’s arm.”

“Sure thing, Your Majesty,” his voice deepens over a border of a mock British accent that hides his normal, American one well. Then he grunts, and another faint slam of something that catches you off guard and even makes you flinch.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” Eddie questions. 

You sit forward. “That- slam.  Where are you?”

“Oh! That. It’s just the shit at the back, babe.” Eddie explains. “I’m almost there, sweetheart. Sit tight and look pretty,”

The RT crackles and there’s nothing but silence left. An ephemeral smile makes its way towards your heated face; conversations with Eddie, no matter the topic or its duration, never fails to make itself linger around your  berserk mind. 

Your heart belabors your ribcage expectantly, your crimson bottom lip tucked between your pearls. With your thoughts suddenly wrapped around Andy, who makes you wonder how long does it take for someone to finish smoking, makes you jump from your seat and wander away from your bright living room.

By the time you reach the sliding doors that lead you to the backyard, you’ve no sight of the man in the bright green and orange Hawkins High jersey. You frown a little, looking around the expanse of your backyard.

Finally, you slide the doors open. You worry he’s on his little schemes again, like Eddie had warned you about. Despite the truce they offered, you still put them on a pedestal and remained cautious of their actions. Inviting Andy into your home when you were still alone wasn’t exactly one of your brightest decisions, seeing as he could have done anything at any moment that could cause you harm.

But he’s not a murderer.

No, Andy’s a teenage boy who’s attempting closure and forgiveness and practices maturity like every other teenager does. Just… at a later date. 

You race back inside your home and pick up your RT and a flashlight. When you return outside, the mist over your pool swishes away from the cold summer wind at nightfall. You turn the switch of your flashlight and direct it at each direction that it could reach, radio tight in your other hand just in case.

“Andy?” you call out. Where could he have possibly gone? “Andy, where are you?”

White sneakers stained by the wet grass and the dirt, you pad across the lawn prudently—tacitly, wondering if maybe you could sneak up on him and give him a good scare. But your backyard lacks trees or any other areas to hide into other than the sun loungers and the shed. 

So this concerns you deeply. How Andy could just suddenly disappear. You’ve quickly come to dread this, with the eerie silence that blots repetitively at your composure and suddenly your rattling in worry.

You walk around, pointing your flashlight at every direction, the white beam only allowing you to see the probable septuagenarian metal fences that surround your home. You even open the shed you’ve always feared opening in the nights and see nothing but your father’s equipment and a lawn mower. 

But something was missing there.

Your father had a very voluptuary collection of knives that are hung meticulously to the wooden walls of the shed. They were exhibited by size, cleaned thoroughly once a week during his weekends. Their frequent disinfectioning proffers itself like a mirror, where you can clearly see your distraught expression when you realize one of the knives was missing.

The Buck 120. 

It was your father’s most beloved. And now you wonder if Andy took it.

“Alright, Andy!” you slam the shed door close, walking backwards and speed walk across every corner of your backyard. “Come out! This isn’t funny! Did you go inside the shed?”

No answer, obviously. What were you thinking?

You harrumph, annoyed that Andy would do this despite your brooding. You stomp your way back inside your house, wiping your feet across the poor rug that you practically assault with your frustrated padding. 

You place your flashlight on the counter. Impatient and worried, you try contacting Eddie again through the RT.

When it’s nothing but static, you groan. “God, Eddie, where are you?”

In fact, where are the others?

You twist the knobs of your walkie talkie still, searching for the right station. 

Suddenly it crackles and you halt your doings, staring at the radio with a confused lour. The crinkling sound makes you tap your feet impatiently, thinking it’s Eddie because who else could it be?

The frizzling ceases. You take this as a sign to speak. “Hello?”

“Hi sweetheart,” it’s Eddie. But his voice is akin to darkness, almost like corruption playing with a knife that glooms over boredom. The hairs on your arms raise in arising suspicion.

“...Eddie?”

“Go out to the backyard, baby,”

Discomposed, you do. You take heedful steps back outside, a sinister quietude resolves uneasily all over your lit nerves. You hold the walkie talkie tight in your shaking hand, the flashlight you took lighting up the backyard again.

“I’m out,” you say quietly into the microphone. “Eddie, where are you?”

“Just keep walking forward,”

You miff. “Eddie, just come here! Where are you, anyway?” you look around, pointing the flashlight over the fences. “This isn’t funny. Did you take my dad’s knife? You know he hates it when someone touches his collection.”

Eddie titters like he doesn’t give a damn. “Just do what I say,”

Cheeks sucking in, you walk forward, until your eyes adjust to a dark figure sitting in the middle of the lawn. You tap your flashlight twice on your lamp, and point the light at the figure.

If you could, you could have broken the handle in your hand.

Andy’s mangled body sat straight on the chair, the guidance of the blood-soaked ropes kept him up high. His head dangles to the side, his open throat bleeds lavishly down his white shirt; the horrifyingly stark contrast of vermillion to alabaster sets an aberrant spark of terror in your bones. 

Then the slit of his apertured stomach leaks all his visceri, a pool of blood beneath his feet and the chair, staining your grass red. You drop the flashlight without your knowledge, the light shining his wretched sneakers instead. 

Your hands shakily grasp your mouth, your lips twisting drastically into a choked sob as tears try to sting your eyes. A couple of them drip down your cheeks, your crying more like heavy heaves and gasps. 

“Eddie?” you whimper into the walkie. “Where are you? You- you have to come and get me and- and we h-have to call the cops. E-Hello…?” you bring the radio away from your face, staring at the small machine in horror. “Eddie?”

With perturbing fear, you force yourself to look up at Andy again. It’s only then you notice his eyes stare off into space, lacking the brash colors irises adorn — they aren’t blue anymore. It’s a pearl swimming in a milk of lifeless beauty; the barbaric aura of his eyes evinces you speechless, unable to look away from the monstrous crime.

His mouth gapes open, the shocking realization that no breath leaves his agape lips causes you to sob again, your feet bolting you back inside your home, body breaking at each step until you arrive inside your home in shambles.

You hit the walkie repeatedly and speak into it, the way Dustin would during ‘Code Reds’. “Eddie? Eddie!” you hiss. “You answer right-fucking-now. I need you to call the cops—”

With your constant walking back, and your shaky exhales and that ringing in your ears forbids you to hear what has happened inside the home. With one last step, your back meets something warm and acute, causing you to scream and pick up something close to you—a knife.

You point it to whoever it was, the tip meeting the intruder's black clothed mask. Your eyes are wide with fear that attempts bravery, the blunt knife threatening that person.

Your eyes meet the plastic ones, the mask sembles a ghost; its wide, parted mouth frozen like a haunted scream, but the vizard is nothing but dull with its aimless attempt to scare. Anamnesis, had it not been from the circumstances, you would have laughed at it.

You almost did.

“Hi,” 

The voice is muffled, the sound marching to familiarity, to hesitance, to realization, to disbelief. You let out a shaky huff, your weapon trembling in your grasp.

“Eddie?”

His glove moves like a blur to remove his mask. 

Eddie’s breathless and sweaty, droplets of blood splattered from his neck up to his jaw, the sanguine blood creating symbiotic art with his opalescent skin. He smiles, corners of his lips almost meeting his eyes, his dimples deep with pride, and his whiskey orbs wide in redolent mentality. 

“Yeah, it’s me,” he tilts his head to the side, his crepuscular mouth still managing to make you swoon and forget about the horrors that cover his body. “Sorry I’m late, sweetheart,”

His hand gently pushes the knife down and you oblige, dropping it to the ground in a loud clatter that makes you wince.

Your head flips between him and the sliding doors behind you, which still shows Andy’s corpse from the flashlight you left. 

“What did you do?” you query, bottom lip quivering as you look back at Eddie. He shrugs with no care, his eyebrows raised to his forehead.

“I killed them,” he says bluntly, his smile falling a little. “I told you I could kill more than just a rat, babe,”

“Wh-what so you just—decided to suddenly kill them? While we were talking about- about rats and shit?!”

Eddie shakes his head, worry filling his features. Though, he’s worried more at the fact that you may fear him for what he’s done. He bends down, his bloody, gloved hands reaching to grasp your shoulders, which causes the thick substance to stain your white sweater.

“No, baby, no,” he tuts, pouting a little, his hands smearing themselves over your clothing like he’s trying to clean his hands before he cups your face, his gloved thumbs wiping your barely there tears. “I was already thinking about this months ago. Rage does something to your mind, sometimes,”

You whimper and his features soften. “What- what do you mean?”

“Sweetheart, I just told you,” he pushes your hair away, patting it down. “I was mad. I am mad. I couldn’t just sit there and let them taunt me when I’m all defenseless, baby. Life isn’t like that—you’re supposed to fight back.”

“Fight back, not kill them!” you say through gritted teeth, chest heaving brokenly. “Eddie, you’ll go to jail. People will find out,”

“They won’t, baby. Not with this mask,” he takes it from the counter, the absence of his hand from one of your cheeks leaves something cold on your bare skin. “Besides, no one’s roaming around, remember? Everyone’s at the town fair, and we don’t have any surveillance cameras now, do we?” 

You sniffle, can’t decide between leaning in his covered hand or flinching away from the smell of blood. But his eyes—Eddie’s eyes, oh, you can see well every shift of emotion, desecrating each one with something new and peculiar; he exceeds the threshold of creativity with it, almost like an actor. Just… more quixotic.

Yet, despite your knowledge of it, you’re still surprised and fooled with the way the madness in his eyes swiftly changed into something like begging and forbearance. How all that insanity melts and twinkles into silk kindness, like he’s your Eddie again. 

He sees your fear.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” his hands leave your face for a moment to discard his blemished gloves. Your heart relaxes at the feeling of his rough palms on your soft cheeks, eyes scanning his blood doused rings. “You know I love you, (y/n). I could never, never ever, hurt you,”

Eddie’s anger has clemency incarcerated; all that self-restraint had finally become impuissant. You couldn’t blame him for finally snapping.

“And,” he continues. “You wanted this too, remember? All that taunting, all the horrible things they said to you. And I know it’s all because of me, princess. So I had to handle it. It’s all in my hands, baby.” his fingers travel down to yours, bringing your hands up to his lips and kisses each dip of your knuckle. “Yours are all pretty and clean. Sinless,”

“I wanted them to pay. I didn’t want them to die—”

“Sweetheart, you did,” Eddie says sternly. “I did this for you. Before we go away to stupid college.”

You start sobbing again and he shushes you. You don’t know why tears aren’t rolling down your face and it frustrates you.

“You killed them,” you spit out. “That’s- that’s murder…”

“No shit,” he snorts.

“It’s wrong,” you blink rapidly, nostrils flaring. “You killed them, Eddie. And you expect me to- to what? Think of this as some sort of gift? Dead people as a gift?”

Now, he’s angry. His face hardens, his jaw clenching. Eddie shakes his head like a disappointed father at you. 

“Learn how to appreciate things that are done for you, (y/n).” he says loudly. “They deserve it. They’re bullies. And bullies need to be punished,” Like a switch, though, his anger morphs into exasperation. “Baby, you know I love you, right?”

You only stare at him with whimpers trying to escape your mouth.

Eddie grasps your face tighter, you wince. “You know that I love you?”

“Yes,” you breathe out, nodding rapidly. “Yes. I- I know.”

“Then let’s celebrate it, okay?” Eddie’s face moves closer to you, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. “No more bother, am I right?”

Letting out an exhale, you shake your head.

“Good,”

Eddie leans down to capture your lips on his own, feverishly and almost passionately. Your hands wrap around his wrist when he tilts your head back as he straightens his spine, his mouth venturing deeper to let his tongue wander inside. 

He smells of dirt and sweat, with whoever’s blood around his neck. The surrounding thought of death continues to imprison your mind, but Eddie overpowers it. Now, it’s just Eddie, Eddie, blood, hunger, and Eddie.

You try not to moan when his lips break away from yours, kissing his way from your cheeks down to your jawline, littering heat ‘till he reaches that spot of yours he knows you love so much. 

Eddie spins you around until the dip of your spine meets the countertop. Your hands grasp tightly at his shoulders, eyes fluttering as he sucks and bites at your sweet spot like it’s his breakfast, his hands leaving his face to clutch and grasp at the swell of your ass.

Your periphery shows you the blurred image of Dead Andy once more, but you’re starting not to care. Not when Eddie licks up at your salty skin. His fingers dance from your ass until he’s gripping your thighs and lifting you up to the counter. 

“Fuck, uh, Eds,” conscience tells you what you’re doing is wrong. That moral doer of an angel whispering in your ear. You almost succumbed to her. But the devil tells you to keep going. Fulfill your fantasies. You’re already there.

He pulls away from your neck, leaving short kisses on your lips repetitively. “God- you’re so pretty,”

His bare hands start to wander everywhere. Eddie clutches at the end of your shirt, urging you to move your arms up and you do. He discards the bloody sweater and throws it somewhere. 

“Do you trust me?” Eddie asks.

With your whole heart. You don’t know. 

“Yeah,” you sigh against him. 

His hand moves behind him and pulls something shiny out. You frown at it.

“Is that my dad’s knife? Eddie, I told you—”

“I know, I know,” he chuckles. “Just wanted to have some fun, baby. Don’t worry, I’ll clean it.”

The weapon still had blood on it, dripping down to the handle, the curved tip, slick with crimson substance. You wonder whose it is. 

He’s careful with it, making sure not to cut you with it, as his eyes wander over your bra. Eddie licks his lips at it, biting his bottom lip at the sight of the white lace that covers your ample tits. 

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” he questions in a gentle susurration. You nod when you feel the wet knife drag down your stomach, a line of crimson painting your skin. “Words.”

“Yes,” Eddie looks at your wondrous gaze, cut short when the undulated tip dips inside your belly button and your head lulls back. “Y-yes, 

Eddie’s knife, now owned by him from the sinful deed of murder, pulls away from your stomach to swim across your back, the cold spine of it pressing against your back, before the blade pushes up and cuts the fabric of your bra with ease.

“Oh, yeah, that's it,” he chuckles. “Look at your pretty tits babe.”

You don’t look at them. You look at his mesmerized look, watching him lean down to take a nipple into his mouth. You gasp, the hand that helps you prop yourself up the counter now grasping his damp curls, tugging at it, which elicits a groan from him. 

He sucks at your buds, until they’re puckered and hard, ticklish when he blows air onto them. When he treats the other tit with the same hunger, and they’re all kiss-swollen and sensitive, he squeezes them in his hands before he pulls away.

You lean forward and pull on the collar of his ‘costume’, your mouth heavily watering as it parts, the need for something to fill it up so strong. Eddie chuckles, flips the knife in his hand until the bloody blade sits in his open palm and the black handle comes up to rest on your tongue.

You could practically see his cock bulging out from the black robe that covers him. Eddie coos when your lips wrap around the handle, the flat of your tongue pressing up on it.

“Get on your knees, sweetheart,” 

Immediately, you do. With death no longer prevailing in your mind, you fall to your knees, the ends of his robe meeting your thighs. Eddie's hands disappear behind his robe, and you watch him until you see it loosen and fall behind him to the ground.

“Oh my god, you’re not wearing any jeans?” you look up at him through your eyelashes. 

“This robe is heavy and it’s hot. I would die first before I killed them,” he snickers. You pull on the band of his boxers, driving them down until his cock springs up and his swell tip slaps up his shirt. 

Eddie almost rips his shirt apart, tossing it where his robe was. You spit down your hand, a glob of white down your palm before you wrap it around his shaft. He moans.

“A little tighter baby,” you squeeze and he sighs. “Yeah, that’s it. Put that mouth into good use, come on.”

With something pooling in the apex of your thighs, your mouth hovers over his head, and you engulf its thickness into your mouth and suck. Both your hands pump him in a tight grasp, which makes his ass clench and buck up in your mouth that you gag at the sudden impact of his tip hitting the back of your throat.

You pull out and gasp, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his dick, your lipstick smudged all over his veiny base. You blink away the tears from your eyelashes, Eddie’s hands on top of your head but not forcing you down on him.

“Let me fuck your face, princess,” he pleads. “Relax your throat and let me do it, ‘kay?”

Your jaw practically unhinges, his musk heavily filling your nose that meets the tush of curls above his cock when he goes all the way in. Eddie moans a bit louder, the salty precum leaking down your loosened throat. His thrusts are slow, and albeit his previous aggression, he’s calm with the way he fucks your mouth dumb. 

Hands greedy, they search for his heavy sack full of cum and play with them, unable to jerk his length when it’s deep in your mouth. Eddie laughs out a groan, his throbbing head twitching against your tongue, his thighs shaking and his hips involuntarily bucking again. 

“Fuck, yeah, that’s it,” he cards his fingers through your hair, pushing it back until it’s wrapped in his hand like a makeshift ponytail. Your cheeks enclose around him, the lewd wet sounds of his slick cock being lathered by your tongue and saliva accompanied by his moans, your gags, and your humming.

You tug on his balls, cupping the squishy, loose flesh. You breathe in his spirituous scent, looking at him like you’d been praying to Hades; nothing but pliant as his dick names you stupid. 

And Eddie—Eddie looks down at you like you’re the most precious thing he’s seen, awaiting to be corrupted but he thinks you already have been. 

He keeps pulling out and fucking back in until real tears pour down your cheeks. Your lips all swollen and inflamed from the rough friction, eyes cockdrunk he’s amused with this sight of you all used up beneath him.

“Look at you, such a slut,” he coos, a soft tsk from his tongue. Two of his fingers tap your sucked cheeks as he continues to thrust into your face. Your head shakes as you take him deeper, smiling wickedly around him, teeth grazing lightly on his skin but fuck does he love it. “H-holy shit. Oh, god—”

His stomach clenches, his happy trail slick with sweat. It’s a telltale sign that he’s close and you keep on letting him fuck your face like it’s your dripping cunt. You suck his cock with every fiber being that builds you, until Eddie’s yelling and loud with his moan as he spills in your mouth.

That hot, pearlescent seed of his falls down your throat, its saltiness makes you mewl, swallowing every bit of his spent. Eddie’s hips stutter into your mouth, spurting and spurting until his dick aches and he pulls out.

“You alright?” his hands massage the sides of your neck, thumbs rubbing your throat. “Didn’t hurt, did it?”

“No,” you sigh. “Now come and fuck me, Ghostface. I’m tired of all this foreplay thing.”

Eddie laughs at your impatience, hands bunching up the fabric of your underwear before he rips it apart. Then he lifts you back up onto the counter, his knees nudging your legs apart, the slickness of your pussy dribbling down to the table.

“You and your inability to wait and have fun, sweetheart,” he leans down to kiss you, though it's more like wet pecks that litter across your head. “You’re taking the fun away,”

You pout. He kisses it again. “This whole thing is taking too long. Just— Eddie!” 

“Okay, okay,” he grabs a hold of his cock, the other tight on the dips of your waist. “I got you, babe.”

He slaps his still sensitive tip on your clit, sending jolts of pleasure that shivers from your heat to your back down to your legs. You whine softly, bucking your hips forward, until Eddie finally slips his head in your tight hole.

When he pushes in and finally settles deep inside your warm cunt, you feel full. In the way you wanted to be filled. You forget the fact that your boyfriend—who’s cockdeep inside your cunt—has killed someone and left them tied up at your backyard and now you’re having sex.

You don’t care. It’s been your plan all along anyway.

Eddie’s tip meets your cervix through a rough, blissful stab. He doesn't start slow like what he did with your mouth; no, he's brutal. Unforgiving with his bloodthirsty hip snapping. You moan loudly at each thrust, your nails scraping along his back.

You see the blood splattered across his tattoos, like his cloak had been futile at its attempt to keep his sacred body clean. The demon sure brought itself to life, dripping down to his hip and smeared across his bone, and Eddie never looked more alluring.

The bright lights of the kitchen adds a sheen layer of pandemonium that splits between risqué endeavors; it exudes sex in the way that can only enthrall you, Eddie’s mind gone to mayhem from all that pent up emotions. 

Cunt squelching from that wetness created by the taste of his cum still swimming on your tongue, you leave marks on his skin like he’s your art. Bloodied and bruised up Eddie should be everyone’s worst nightmare, you think. He’s karma brought to life.

With his blinding thrusts, you don’t notice him picking up his knife again, only to drag its crooked tip right on the soft column of your neck that’s covered in hickies. You smile a little, too drunk on the feeling of Eddie’s cock going in and out of your silky sex.

“What are you doing?” you pant, hands lazily wrapping around his neck. “You gonna slit my throat open?”

“Nah, babe,” his tongue pokes out in concentration, dragging the flat belly of the knife across. “Just gonna nick you for the hell of it. Just—”

There’s a shling sound of a sharp knife piercing lightly through your skin. From the kiss of the knife, you moan painfully, your hand wrapping around Eddie’s neck subconsciously as the searing affliction ricochets in a rapture whirlwind down your spine. 

Eddie exclaims in pride; you feel the blood drip down your skin, pulsing and extravasating coldness. He slopes and presses the flat of his tongue to lap up at your thick ichor, mewling at your taste the same time you gasp out silent screams at his relentless fucking.

“You taste so fucking amazing,” he murmurs against your now blood-deluged flesh. Eddie consumes it all. “Wish I could just fucking carve my name onto you.”

You clench tight onto him, like you’re sucking him into you. Eddie’s eyes roll to the back of his head. 

“Oh- oh, she likes that, doesn’t she?” 

“Do that—shit, oh!– do that next t-time,” you giggle onto his hair that you clutch like a vice, his hot tongue continues swimming arousal down your split cunt. 

His skin slapping against yours sounded like a hypnotizing siren, which kind of ameliorates the bawdiness of the shlick sounds of your pussy engulfing his luxuriant dick. 

Eddie stabs the knife down on the countertop, places a hand behind you and the other wrapped around your sweaty waist and fucks you into oblivion. Your moans become carnally loud, enough to drive the neighbors away but also enough to appease your boyfriend.

And at each thrust—everytime he pulls you down to meet his hips—your orgasm protrudes on you like a knife. Closer and closer until it’s deep into your flesh and almost peeking out of your epidermis. You mewl into Eddie’s ear.

“I’m gonna cum,” you choke out. “Fuck– don’t– don’t stop. Don’t stop, don't stop, don't stop.” 

Shameless, mimicked wails of ecstasy, cascading into soft ‘uhs’ when your lips dance across his earlobe. Eddie wedges his thumb between the place that leaves him wondering where he starts and where he ends, rubs your bundle of nerves that has been grinding against his coarse pubes in perpetuity. 

“Gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” he grunts against your temple. “Go–shit–a-and cum for me, baby. Come on. Be a good girl and cum,” 

Obeying him, you gush all over his sensitive cock that spills inside your trembling walls. Your hips stutter in the air, clenching, cunt guzzing all of his spunk. Eddie lets out one last moan before he slumps against you, his curls sticking to your skin.

You pull away, finally meeting Eddie’s usual wide, baby brown eyes full of wonder and excitement. “Hi.”

“Hi sweetheart,” Eddie kisses your cheek. “You did amazing, babe,” while he doesn't pull out, he does pull his hand out for a high five. Your palm meets his. “Love the crying bit, by the way. You could be in, like, a Stanley Kubrick film.”

Eddie pushes your hair behind your ears and leaves a peck on your lips as he swipes the sweat away.

“You said you wanted the roleplay to be convincing,” you argue playfully. “I seriously don’t like how you touched my dad’s collection, Eds,”

“It was for a good cause,” his cock softens inside you, and so does Eddie. “Baby, I didn’t scare you, did I?”

“Not at all,” you wrap your arms lazily around his neck, brushing his hair. “We signed up for this, remember? Killing them has always been our plan before we left. We just added the sex thing to have some fun,”

“You’re right,” he nods, eyes squinting. “No porn film can exceed the greatness of our roleplay. The killer, and the helpless little lamb. Shit, that could be the title,”

“The Horny Killer, and The Sexy Little Lamb,”

“Better,” Eddie kisses your nose, you giggle. “Wanna see Jason and Chance’s bodies?”

-

A year ago, your patience had been bound tightly around your heart. You were understanding, kind; nothing but a vestibule of angelicum. 

That is, until you met the devil that succumbed into your sinful desires.

Eddie wasn’t like this before. But truthfully, he actually did just snap. He let all his frustrations go—from watching the light leave someone’s eyes, to fucking you like there’s no tomorrow.

His van doors open, tossing Andy’s heavy body into the back, right between Jason and Chance’s horrifyingly mutilated bodies. All their skins pale and their eyes defunct. You place your hands on your hips.

“Where’s Patrick?” you ask him.

“He was nice. Didn’t have the heart to kill him,” he pouts, wrapping his arm around your back and kissing your temple. “I was thinking of hanging them at the gym tomorrow on the last day? Right before I kill Principal Higgins?” 

“Sounds like a great idea,” you rest your head on his shoulder. 

Originally, you only planned on roleplaying. No murder, no knives, no fright, no blood. But there’s no harm in going a little bit psycho with this whole sex extravaganza. Everyone had their own kinks.

You’re just lucky enough Eddie felt the same.

You pick up the mask and put it over your head, Eddie’s faint scent of cigarettes and alcohol burning your nose. “I get to wear this next time, right?”

“Of course,” Eddie smiles. “But, you get to carve your initials on me next time.”

“Deal.”

reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ♡

[cl-0v3r]

Okay this is gonna be super rushed and probably have alot of mistakes but I need this out of my system so it will most likely be like half a shitpost !!!

When i think of Jinx and Mel at a flat level, i assume that they are very different from eachother, there is no personal connection between the two at all, they don't even know eachother and they both have very different roles in the show, not to mention the difference in demeanor and character as well.

But Arcane, a show full of parallels, always knows how to connect each of its characters to one another somehow, I find it amazing that you can find so many similarities despite their vast differences even if it was the most subtle thing ever, its like the tiniest bits of detail SCREAM at you.

One of my favorite (and most obvious) things about Mel and Jinx is the fact that they speak of their past THROUGH THEIR ART, I don't think I really need to go ahead and dissect this to the last atom since it's already very clear what their drawings mean to them and to the story, but they prefer to cope with their trauma by painting/making things that remind them of the past or has a relation to it, there is ALWAYS a piece (or pieces) of art about something that continues to HAUNT them to this day, for Jinx its "doodles" of the hallucinations of Mylo, Claggor & Vi who are almost everywhere she is, as for Mel its the bloody necklace thats hung above her head and over her bed alongside the painting of the immortal bastion to remind her about "home".

Whats even crazier is the fact that their art is also tied to the people who cast them out from their family, Powder before this was always called a Jinx ESPECIALLY by Mylo and she was considered weak and unable to handle things like the others, leading her to change and become somebody new after they left, sound a little familiar? Because Mel was also considered weak, sentimental, too soft to be a Medarda E S P E C I A L L Y by Ambessa at a young age, and what happened after? Gone. Afterwards, they find themselves in a new place where people "look up to them" or they're seen as someone with higher importance.

And I've spoken a bit about the visual similarities in an earlier post, but we gotta appreciate their attitudes towards their "parental" figures, I don't know why but its funny to see how much sass they throw at them, its what inspired this post actually. Maybe its just the satisfaction of seeing my two least favorite characters get the same honest reaction I have by my favorite characters 😭

They're both tired of their shit and its the best thing to ever exist.

Let's not forget how they both got genuinely angry at them as well? Jinx snatching Silcos injection from his hands and being pissed at him for lying to her about everyone being dead, while Mel slapped the goblet out of Ambessas hand, upset that she played with Jayce unrightfully so.

The color and design differences is a beautiful parallel too, Jinx is often surrounded by cold or dark colors like Blue, Green, black with a hint of purple and pink and dressed like her personality, while Mel is more light & Warm-toned with yellow/gold, red, white and a wee bit of black which is all matching to her Elegance. This is just a general parallel between characters of Zaun and Piltover overall, but its always very appealing when you compare them together.

And finally, its them completely letting go of their past selves and starting out new literally by the last episode after struggling with who they are the whole time, Powder was officially gone by the end of the season, and Mel was no longer Medarda. Jinx is just Jinx, Mel is just Mel, and they are both going to do things their own way and that was shown with how Mel took off her ring and painted over the Immortal Bastion with gold , and how Jinx launched her rocket towards the council with her own art on it too.

Its funny to think that thats the only physical connection they could possibly have and that its related to their character arcs, its related to them making a new big decision, it has a strong relation to their art, and a strong relation to them saying goodbye to their family.

Hope this made sense !!!!!!!! I honestly just want them to like idk hug or something and go to loo loo land and paint together or whatever in a different universe and cope with their shared trauma together no fuss no muss. Fanfic writers where did you go y'all are missing out on this super mega awesome cool older&younger sister / mother-daughter duo.

[littlecrittereli]

YOU CANT JUST POST A CHAPTER LIKE THIS AND JUST- ENDED IT LJKE THAT???? WHAT KIND OF CLIFHANGER IS THAT- I AM DYING- HOW AM I GONNA WAIT FOR A FULL WEEK UNTILL THE NEXT CHAPTER SHEJDJZKEJ-

Fr tho i loved this so much thank you and i can see why u liked it alot like when i tell u i imagined everything in great detail like it was the coolest movie ever in my head i freaking did like omg that was one of my favourite chapters in like all of au-

On a second note imma gonna drop my speculations here bcuz i fr wanna yap abt this cuz its just too good i gotta get it outta ny system lol do ignore it since its not imp

So since the 2 figures that talked/made eye contact w martin and aviva has a mask that resembles other wild cats they r working with big d over here im guessing they are either passed out/ been kidnapped by force (for martin in guessing he got drugged) it would be kinda ironic how the falcon that should be aware of everything beside him got drugged. now i think Dora's cousin took those too specifically is 1 aviva is the master mind he can get her(by force obv) to make those prototypes real for martin i think he took him outta revenge since our boy is who threw him out of a plane and he is prolly gonna torture him or hold him hostage untill chris has no more fight than him and finally surrenders or just a cruel joke as chris already has no regard for his life so he took what made him still believe theres hope still just to let him know whos in control bcus this guy has no mercy at all or maybe jimmy comes up clutch and either get chris not to fall somehow or find where aviva and martin are.

AHHHH IM SO GLAD!!!! I HAVE BEEN LOSING MY MIND OVER CHAPTER 7 FOR LIKE 4 WEEKS NOW......and im so glad i finally get to share it beCAUSE SO MUCH CHANGES FOR THE PLOT AND I FINALLY GET TO TALK ABOUT IT HEHEHE Also yes the irony of Martin and his falcon suit... Though I've been hinting since the summary of the fic, (actually long before that, since the beginning of Reprogrammed) but really emphasizing it in Decoded, that Martin has some issues when it comes to taking care of himself. While Chris' complete lack of self preservation is a recent development, Martin's has been taking root since childhood and as such isn't as noticeable. He's the oldest sibling, he's the team leader, he prioritizes others above himself because it's all he's ever known. And while there's nothing inherently wrong with that, he takes it to the extreme and becomes neglectful of himself.

And with Chris needing more support than usual, Martin's self-neglect is becoming more apparent...

I would also like to take this moment to point out ahem... Martin never broke his promise.

Martin squeezed his shoulder before letting go. “He won’t be taking you anywhere, I promise.”  Chris took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before fixing the green gazelle mask over his face. “I trust you.” 

-Decoded Chapter 6