#Lee!Doc

[scp999ticklemonster]

I worked a little on this art, how do you like it?

(⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

[manic-smallishgiggles]

DONT MAKE ME CHOOSEEEEEE I LOVE LEE!SCOTT SM BUT LEE!DOC THOUGH, I SEE NO LEE!DOC ANYWHERE IVE SEEN ONE SINGLE LEE!DOC POST AND IT WAS TINY IM SO SAD ABOUT THATTTTT BUT STILL ONE OF THOSE TWO OR MAYBE LEE!JOEL

-🍄

BET HERE'S ALL 3 OF THEM

(Note that this is my first time drawing Doc I have no idea what I'm doing 😭😭😭)

You can probably tell who I decided to have the most fun with LMAOO

!!PLEASE DON'T MAINTAG!!

[i2sunric]

HYUNG LINE WHEN THEIR S/O IS INSECURE

𓆩♡𓆪. alternatively — where you are scared of them leaving you.

warnings: mentions of death, guns, overthinking. NOT PROOFREAD.

published: 5th May 2024

wc: 1.2k

taglist: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @heelvsted

𓆩♡𓆪. LEE HEESEUNG

You woke up all sweaty, your breath uneven and rushed as you sat up on the bed, Heeseung’s strong arms still wrapped around your waist.

You blinked your eyes, bitter tears rolling down your cheeks. The scene of your dream unfolding right before your eyes, ripping your heart apart.

Your sudden movements caused Heeseung to stir awake, his dear eyes opening “Baby?” He asked, his voice slurred with sleepiness

You dried your tears with your hand “Yes?” You said, trying your best not to give away the shakiness in your voice.

His brows knitted and he sat up beside you “What’s wrong?” Heeseung’s arms wrapped around your shoulder.

A pained sob escaped your lips as you snuggled close to his chest, his expression turning worried “Baby… Talk to me, what’s wrong?”

“I—“ You tried to say but your whole body quivered as you sobbed in his arms. He just rubbed your back, whispering soothing nothings to your ear as he waited for you to calm down.

And when you finally did, you raised your head to meet his gaze, your puffy eyes and red nose making you look so cute.

“I had a bad dream.” You answered, his thumb carefully dried the tear stains under your eyes and cheeks, “Mh? What happened in the nightmare?”

You gulped down, just the thought making you shiver, “We were at the mall and some random guy came with a gun and you protected me when he started shooting.”

Bitter and hot tears burned their way down your cheeks again “You were laying there, bleeding and I could do nothing, I couldn’t move.”

Heeseung’s expression softened and he placed one hand behind your head to pull you on his chest, his arms protecting you in a warm embrace “It was just a dream, Y/N.” He said gently.

“But it felt so real…” You shook your head, gripping his shirt as if he was a lifeline “I’m here, baby, I’m here with you.”

He took your hand and placed it on his cheek to let you know he was alive and there with you. His lips brushed your knuckles, your breath hitching.

“I won’t leave you, but if I ever die protecting you,” Heeseung helped you lay down again, placing the blankets back on your embraced figures “Then I’d die happy.”

He placed a sweet kiss on your forehead “Because you are my life, Y/N. And if there is no you, I don’t want to live.”

𓆩♡𓆪. PARK JAY

There were many sleepless nights where your thoughts wouldn’t leave you a break, making you overthink every choice and every little detail of your life.

No matter how hard you tried, your worries and anguishes never truly left you alone.

And that was how you found yourself standing in front of the large window at yours and Jay’s apartment. With only a thin robe to cover your nightgown you let the cold weather hit your body as you hugged your own arms.

It was in one of those nights that you started questioning wether you truly deserved such a perfect life. Jay was the best thing that ever happened to you, he was like a dream coming true.

He cooked for you, helped you doing the chores, bought you any pretty things you wanted without ever complaining.

He was perfect. Too perfect for someone like you.

Sometimes you thought you didn’t do anything, compared to all the things he did to you. You weren’t good at showing your emotions, at letting Jay know you cared for him the same way he did.

Your stream of consciousness was interrupted when you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist, “Angel?” Jay’s sleepy voice filled your ear as he snuggled his head on the crook of your neck, hugging you from behind.

“What are you doing up?” He slurred sleepily, caressing your stomach with his thumb.

“Can’t sleep.” You just replied, the feeling of safety Jay brought you only adding to the anguishes making your stomach twist.

With a soft chuckle, Jay tightened his grip around your waist. "Come on now, don't lie to me." He paused, his breath hot on your skin as he sighed. "I know that there's something on your mind again — you're always overthinking, hmm?"

He truly knew you better than anyone else “You got me.” Jay hummed “What’s got you troubled?”

Seeing that you weren’t replying, Jay spun you around so you were facing him. You drank him in, his dark eyes ever so filled with love, his hair all messed from bed and his face puffy.

You smiled sadly and ran your fingers in his tangled hair “I don’t think I deserve you.”

Jay’s eyes widened “What?” He asked, not sure if his mind was playing some trick or if he had heard you correctly.

“I feel like I’m too much, Jay, like I’m always asking you for things just to never give you anything in return.” You sighed, dropping your hand “And I can’t stop overthinking, because maybe you truly deserve someone better than me.”

Jay felt a hundred daggers pierce his heart at your words. How long had you been feeling that way? And how come he had never realised? If anything, he was the one you didn’t deserve.

“No, baby.” He shook his head, his voice rushed and worried. He put his hands on your elbows, needing you close “You are not too much, nor you’ll ever be.”

Jay started, pressing his forehead on yours “I love you more than anything and I couldn’t ask for more than your love.” You let out a small sigh, his words sinking in your head, painting your heart red.

“You’re my girl, the person I want to spend my life with, the woman I want to marry.” He pressed a kiss on your forehead, then down on your brow, “Don’t doubt my feelings for you, you’re everything I could’ve wished for.” He kissed the tip of your nose.

“I love you, Jay.” You whispered, needing him to hear your feelings “I love you too, Y/N. So much.”

𓆩♡𓆪. SIM JAKE

It was just a slip of tongue, something Jake didn’t mean to say to hurt you— just a small detail he had noticed.

It wasn’t even your fault that Layla apparently seemed to like Jake’s ex more. It wasn’t even a big deal, then why were you crying in the bathroom?

You weren’t very in synchrony with dogs, or animals in general since commitment wasn’t your best attribute but you were trying your best to take care of Layla when Jake wasn’t home.

Apparently, you weren’t trying enough because even Jake noticed that Layla didn’t seem to enjoy your company. She’d bark at you and just completely ignore you when you wanted to play or take her out for a walk.

With tears making their way down your pretty face you felt extremely stupid. Why would you even be crying over something so small?

“Baby?” A knock on the door distracted you, making you bit down on your lip to stop your whimpers “You’ve been there for a while, you okay?”

You cleared your throat and replied “Yes, I’ll be out quickly.” You got up and washed your face, trying to get rid of the red marks on your face.

You then opened the door and showed Jake a good fake smile. But he knew you better, he could sense something was wrong.

“Were you crying?” He asked, widening his eyes as he took in the sight of your swollen and red eyes.

His eyebrows shot in surprise and scanned your whole body in search of any injury “Are you hurt? Did you do something?”

“No, no.” You shook your head “I’m fine.”

Jake looked at you with an expression that said he wasn’t believing your bullshit “You clearly aren’t.”

Your lips formed a thin line, “It’s something stupid. Just forget it.” You tried to dismiss it.

He let out a small sigh, “It’s not stupid if it makes you cry.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“I just have been trying to work it out with Layla.” You looked away, ashamed “But then you said she liked your ex more and I think it brought me down..”

Jake’s eyes widened more, if it was even possible. He had been foolish to make such remark when he knew you were struggling to build a good relationship with his dog.

“Oh, baby.” He wrapped his arms around you, brining you into a tight hug “I’m so sorry I said that, it doesn’t even matter if Layla doesn’t like you yet.”

He caressed the nape of your neck, thumb gently brushing against your skin “You need some time, and you need to stop overthinking this, mh?”

You looked up at him and slowly nodded your head “Good, because you’ll be her mother when I marry you.”

𓆩♡𓆪. PARK SUNGHOON

The pain in your chest made it hard to breath as you watched Sunghoon laughing wholeheartedly with someone— a girl that wasn’t you.

Everyone at Jay’s birthday party seemed to be happy, enjoying themselves while drinking and dancing. But even the loud music was clouded from your negative thoughts.

Sunghoon’s dimples showed with how much he was smiling at the pretty girl, she was so stunning you probably understood why he chose to be with her and not spend time with you.

No— Sunghoon was your boyfriend, why would you ever doubt him? The truth was that you weren’t doubting him, but yourself.

So many insecurities and unspoken worries filled your head until Sunghoon felt your gaze on him and turned his head to face you.

He showed you a warm smile that soon turned into a frown when you didn’t reciprocate it. Ashamed with yourself, you watched the two for the last time before rushing out of the room.

Sunghoon quickly excused himself and ran after you, he went outside and searched for you.

“Y/N?” He asked, looking around for a few seconds before he saw you, curled on yourself as you hovered on the ground, hugging your knees.

He sighed and walked to you, taking off his jacket to place it around your shoulders “Hey.” He kneeled down in front of you, showing you another gentle smile

When he saw you avoided his gaze, he took your chin in his fingers and lifted your head, finally looking into your eyes “What’s the matter, pretty girl?”

You let out a small sigh and shook your head, not wanting to voice out the storm inside your mind.

Sunghoon’s thick brows knitted, his lips forming a thin line “Y/N, what happened?” He asked, his hands on your shoulder, his gaze desperate “Did I do something wrong? Did I mess it up?”

You were quick to shake your head “No, of course not.” He seemed taken aback “Then… Why are you sad?”

Sunghoon was always so sweet and caring with you, he was still trying to get himself to show you how much you mattered, and even if he struggled, he always managed to make you feel like the only girl in the world.

You took a deep breath, your demeanour filling with regret “I’m sorry, Hoon.” You murmured, your gaze falling on the ground again but his fingers brought it back up, gently tapping your chin “I saw you with that girl and I couldn’t help but feel… miserable.”

“Miserable?” Sunghoon asked, his tone quiet “You did nothing wrong, It’s my fault… I keep thinking you’ll eventually leave for someone better.”

Sunghoon helped you stand up, one of his arms sneaking around your waist, brining you close. He used the other to brush a strand of hair out of your face “I understand it’s hard to believe someone cares for you, I do.”

His voice was so gentle “But please baby,” He held your face in his palm “Believe me when I say I never want anyone else, and if I get to have you for the rest of my life, I could never ask for more.”

Your breath hitched at his oh so romantic confession, making the air taste sweeter. He pressed a featherlight kiss on your lips, just to deepen it.

The kiss held all your unspoken feelings, making the worries disappear with its magic “Let’s go home now,” Sunghoon murmured on your lips “I want to hold you and cuddle until we fall asleep.”

[beesspacedotorg]

Handle With Care

Summary: You've had a truly awful day, luckily, your adoring boyfriend Minho is there to make it better. 2.5k words

Warnings: there's sex, but honestly it feels like someone accidentally got porn in my fluff so do with that what you will. reader is as gender neutral as physically possible. reader is also lowkey a crybaby, sorry but actually I'm not

Notes: Hello adoring public. It turns out, I can write fanfiction, and with the encouragement of Juno and Ems, I can also post it! There is a cat in this, she was inspired by a cat my family used to have and a cat my family currently has. They're both calico which I think explains everything you need to know about them.

There’s a lot you can say about the day you had today, and most of them start with sh- and end in -itty. You’re thinking on this as you dive head first onto the rough material of your couch, great for sitting, bad for face planting. You hear a scratching by your head and absentmindedly bat your cat away from the arm of the couch, mumbling something about how she has a perfectly good cat tree two feet away before resuming your completely justified sulking.

“Oh, hello. I didn’t hear you come home. How was your day?” There’s a voice above you and you can picture him in your mind's eye, leaning against the back of the couch as he stares at your limp form, probably eyeing the shoes you didn’t take off by the door. You mumble something half hearted in response and he huffs before the sound of walking hits your ears and all the breath leaves your body at once. He’s sitting on you. This motherfucker is sitting on you.

“Get off, Minho” You had to tilt your head to the side, it’s hard enough to breathe through couch fabric as is, much less when there’s a full grown man sitting on your back.

“You should answer people when they try to talk to you, jagiya.”

“You shouldn’t sit on people while they’re laying down, yeobo.” Your voice is a lot more acidic than his was and a twinge of guilt settles on you before it dissipates as he shifts and manages to place more weight on your back.

“Hmm. I guess we’re both doing things that we shouldn’t then. How tragic.” His voice is deadpan, and you still can’t see him from where your head is turned- your view is limited to the back of the couch and his arm in your periphery- but you can feel the dead stare he’s aiming at your skull. There’s a silence for a few moments while you engage in a war of attrition, neither of you willing to give up just yet, but it’s getting genuinely hard to breathe and your back is starting to hurt.

“It sucked, please get off.” He does, patting your back consolingly.

“See? Was that so hard?” He guides your head to his lap as you both sit back down, petting over your hair like he would his cats. “Tell me, what’s got my baby in such a tizzy?”

You grumble at him, rolling over to shove your face into his stomach, tired and petulant. He sighs softly, but keeps patting your head, so you know he’s mostly just doing it for show.

“That kind of day, hmm, jagi?” And you nod again. Honestly, it wasn’t much different from a normal day, it’s just that the right things managed to go very wrong and subsequently ruined your day in a way that has pressure forming behind your eyes and your voice cracking stupidly every time you try to talk.

You both sit for a while before he puts something on the TV and gently shoves your head off his lap.

“Hey-”

“Do you want the dinner I worked so hard on to go cold?” He has his hands on his hips in front of you and you laugh slightly at how funny he looks. He rolls his eyes and goes, coming back with two bowls of something before he forcefully sits you up and shoves it in your hands.

“Eat.”

“Yes, chef.”

The food is delicious, it always is when Minho cooks it, he’s got a talent for it you’ve never really seen firsthand, and you consider yourself truly blessed to be able to eat it as often as he’s able to make it for you. Still, gratefulness and taste aside, your day was shitty enough that every mouthful tastes like ash and turns to rot in your stomach, leaving you with an unsettling queasiness that shouldn’t ever be attributed to your boyfriend’s cooking. You’re shoving the contents around with a spoon before he huffs- a real one this time- and takes the bowl from you, setting it on the coffee table next to his own before he mutes the TV.

“Okay. Quite clearly something is wrong. What can I do to help you?” You think he knows, but you like that he asks anyway. Minho always asks, always lets you talk and sort out whatever’s going on before he tries to help. Even if your answer is a simple shake of the head, a simple, I don’t feel like it, become a mind reader, he always asks before he helps. Sometimes you wonder how he always knows what you need, others you just decide to not look a gift horse in the mouth.

You huff and your lip wobbles pathetically and he coos, slightly condescending.

“Crying already? I haven’t even done anything.” He’s teasing, but his hands are gentle as he pulls you into his lap, his hands are gentle as they find their way under your shirt, his mouth is gentle as it kisses down the side of your face to your neck.

“‘M sorry,” you’re not the biggest fan of crying, neither is he, but for different reasons. He’s not someone who’s brought to tears easily, you are, but there’s an inherent shame in it, you think. Something so embarrassing about getting worked up enough to start crying like a baby, and so as much and as often as you feel like crying, you don’t. This he also knows, because he knows everything.

“Aish, why are you sorry for? I didn’t tell you to apologize, did I?” He taps your cheek lightly, causing you to look up at him, he plants a kiss on your nose, then your mouth.

“Sweet thing, don’t worry about anything except for what I tell you to, okay?” And you nod and he smiles.

You’re not much for talking in times like these, everything is so sensitive and soft and talking feels like a cheese grater on this cloudlike moment so you don’t and he knows, so he doesn’t chide you for it. Usually, he would. He’d crack a hand down on your ass or grab a fistful of your hair and tell you that he asked you a question so he expects an answer, but that’s not what you need right now, so he doesn’t. He just kisses your jaw again before he puts both of his warm hands under your shirt and lets his fingers poke at your chest.

He always says his hands are small, but really, you wouldn’t be able to tell, not with the way he cups your chest in his hand and lets his thumb brush over your nipple, gentle and reverent. It’s not much, not as much as he usually gives you, but it’s enough to have your mouth dropping open with a gasp and your back arching into his hand, it’s enough to have him giggling softly at your reaction.

“Sensitive today?” He’s teasing again, as soft as he is right now, he’s still Minho, he still likes to poke fun. You huff, biting at his shoulder softly in retaliation and he lets you, pinching your nipple just this side of too much in retribution before one of his hands wanders down to your ass, groping and squishing the flesh. Your breath stutters in your chest as he pushes your hips forward onto his, friction sending sparks up your spine.

“Min-” You’re desperate and he hasn’t even done anything yet, not really. A few stray touches and you already feel yourself shattering to pieces in his grasp, you’re not afraid though, and not quite ashamed. He’ll take care of you, he always does.

He does it again, guides your hips forward until you’ve gotten the hint to keep going by yourself and you’re struck with the urge to kiss him, so you do, removing your head from the home it’s made on his shoulder and making a go at his mouth. It’s messy, your coordination shot already, and you almost smash your forehead into his nose before he catches your head with a laugh.

“Easy there. Bloody noses aren’t exactly sexy.” You disagree, he could make anything sexy, but you don’t have time to voice that thought as he pushes his mouth onto yours and lovingly shoves his tongue down your throat. The kiss is messy, they always are. However gentle he is, he can never seem to stop himself from kissing you until your face is covered in drool and spit, and if it were anyone else, you’d be mildly repulsed, but you like the way he looks at your mouth after it’s over, so you let it slide. 

You pull away, chest burning and heaving and look at him before you still, eyes drawn to something by his head.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” You don’t answer, gaze still drawn away from him.

“There’s a little white girl staring at me.” He turns his head to the side and laughs as he comes face to face with your cat, her green eyes boring into him. He scratches her head affectionately and lets her headbutt him before your center of gravity is shifting drastically and you’re clinging onto him for dear life.

The bedroom door shuts before you’re very aware of it and suddenly there’s a mattress under your back and a Minho over your front and his hands are up your shirt again, this time shoving it off of you until your chest is bare. You shiver slightly from the cold and then there’s a blanket being shoved around your shoulders and you smile up at him. He knows you so well, he loves you so much and your eyes are welling with tears.

“Aigoo, my little crybaby. It’s just a blanket,” there’s a kiss on each of your cheek bones, “silly thing. Save your tears for when my cock is in you, hmm?” Your breath stutters again and your hands are tugging at his shirt until he takes it off, he laughs again when your hands immediately find his chest.

“I’m glad someone appreciates my hard work.”

“They’re nice boobs.” The sentence catches him off guard, makes him laugh hard enough that he loses his balance a little and his weight settles onto you more. It’s comforting, like a weighted blanket that can talk and walk and kiss you silly.

Then, his hands are under your bottoms, tugging them off your legs and you’re suddenly wearing nothing and he’s still in his pants, which you find disgustingly unfair. You reach down and tug on the hem off his sweats, pouting and huffing until he gets the message and tugs those off too.

“You just want to get me naked,” he starts. “I can’t believe you just want me for my body.” You nod cheekily in response and he smacks your shoulder.

“Yah! See if I’m ever nice to you again!” But he’s kissing your neck again as his hands guide your legs to cross over his hips before he’s touching you in a way that steals the breath from your lungs and makes your head tip back into the pillows.

“There we go. So pretty when you’re like this, hmm? So soft and sweet for me.” His fingers are in you now, pressing insistently against that spot that makes white splash in your vision and reflexively forces your legs shut. He grunts slightly as your thighs squeeze around his hips, pressure just this side of uncomfortable. He doesn’t say anything though, just keeps his pace steady inside you until you’re almost tipping over and he stops. You look at him with something akin to betrayal, fresh tears springing to your eyes, but before you can open your mouth to complain he’s sliding home and you don’t have enough air to say anything anyway.

He catches it though, rolls his eyes as he sees the way your attitude was about to flare up.

“What did I tell you earlier, jagiya? Don’t worry about anything unless I tell you to worry about it. I always take care of you, don’t I?” He does, he’s good to you like that. He sounds slightly out of breath already, unusual for him, but you don’t mind because it feels like you’re seconds away from God’s doorstep yourself.

His pace is slow and deep, bass knock steady even as you squirm under him. If this were a normal situation, he’d stop, hands gripping your hips unforgivingly until you stayed still, but this isn’t a normal situation so he lets you wiggle, only huffing in mild irritation before he leans down to kiss you again.

“You’re gonna knock us off the damn bed, baby.” But he doesn’t make any move to stop you, and you feel too good to really process his words anyway. You love him, you really do, and you’re struck with the overwhelming urge to tell him, to let him know, to make him know. You grip his shoulders tightly, nails digging in until he hisses and levels you with a glare, one that instantly softens when he meets your eyes.

“I love you,” it comes out of you as a sob, like it was wrenched from your vocal chords before you gave yourself permission to think it. “I love you so much.” You’re rambling now, repeating those three words over and over and Minho coos, hips faltering just slightly. He always goes weak when you tell him you love him, and you keep it in your back pocket like a weapon for the times that you’re in trouble.

“I love you, too, jagiya. ‘S that why you’re crying? Hmm? Love me so much it’s gotta spill out from your pretty eyes?” You nod in response, breath hitching from the pleasure and the tears and his hand drifts from its place on your hip to touch you again and you’re spilling liquid heat before you can really register what’s happening. You feel him inside you, too, insides suddenly molten warm but you’re floating too high for it to feel like it’s happening to you, like you’ve been temporarily ejected from your body.

When your soul settles back into your bones, Minho is laying next to you, staring at you with his wide eyes, you look over at him and smile.

“Is boba really worth it?” He looks confused at your question before you poke him on the eyelid and he laughs.

“Feel better?” You consider for a moment. Your teeth don’t feel like they’re too big for their sockets and your bones no longer feel itchy. You’re hungry, but mostly, your mind is quiet. There’s no overwhelming pressure behind your eyes and when you talk your voice cracks from sleep instead of from the force of choking back tears.

“Much. I’m hungry, though.” You give your best impression of puppy eyes at him and watch as his eyes roll to the back of his skull. You’ve been told that your pleading face looks mildly perturbing, but Minho always says you remind him of Soonie when you do it. It makes you feel slightly bad for Soonie, soon the cat isn’t going to be able to get anything off of Minho because you’ll have rendered him immune.

He comes back with your reheated bowl in one hand and your cat in the other.

“She screamed at me until I picked her up. Stood on my feet and hollered.” He winces slightly. “I should’ve put on boxers because she almost mistook my dick for a toy.”

[boytumms]

I’d would be pretty cute to see preggy fig nearing his due date, just a small guy who’s ready to pop :)

Oh he’s ready to pop alright

Some of my thoughts/world building on fairy pregnancy below :)

I’ve actually been thinking about how fairy pregnancies should work for my little world, I kinda like the idea of fairies having eggs tbh. Idk if anyone remembers from a while back I had some prompts about fairies producing mana pearls/eggs as a by product and I really liked that idea. All fairies can produce these mana eggs if they don’t use enough of the mana they produce, it’s normally just the result of not actively using their magic, but they can decide to grow an egg and have it fertilized by another fairy, which would then develop into a baby.

One to three eggs would be normal, but it could be possible to have much more if a fairy was forced to build up enough mana. Once the eggs are ready, they’re laid and the babies hatch a few days later. If a fairy isn’t able to give birth quickly enough, the eggs may hatch inside their belly and they’d have to give birth to live offspring. While the babies might be easier push out, the hatching process and the broken egg shells coming out with the babies would be extremely painful and could seriously injure the fairy or even be fatal for them.

I also think fairy pregnancies would be super short compared to humans, maybe one or two months? I haven’t really decided yet. Also haven’t thought much about fairy lifespans or aging, not sure if they should have shorter lifespans and age to maturity very quickly (small creature, short life?), or maybe they could be “immortal” in the sense that they can’t die of old age but can be killed by something else and age to maturity a little slower (high mana might mean long life/immortal?).

Let me know what you guys think! It would be fun to hear some other ideas :)

[mushyblushyredhead]

HELP I was SO LEE yesterday and STILL AM TODAY AKFHWKDHFJ (*´ー｀*) so here take this I guess it probably looks like chiz but I needed to draw some flustering tk art (⁎⁍̴̆Ɛ⁍̴̆⁎) (also cuz I rewatched Spider-Man 2 for like the fleventeenth time last night)

Ok bye gonna go hide in my blanket cave now (〃ω〃)

[punkeropercyjackson]

These slayed harder than Danny Phantom ever could

[wwprice1]

10 amazing covers coming from DC in April!

[neppy-34]

How curious that you keep getting caught, spiderman.

Worked on this piece on and off for a few weeks :3 I hope you all like it!

[ryoko-san]

Silly Freelancer (Kyle) and Doc (Lee) headcanon again

Other than cats, Kyle really loves snakes. He has a pet phyton named Nebula in his room on a pretty big aquarium(?). Lee however, is terrified of snakes.

So just imagine when he decided to visit Kyle’s apartment he sees this large ass snake in his room LMAO

Personally i think Gavin really loves their snek, always having her by his shoulders whenever FL isn’t home hehe

[skookworks]

03.30.2024

[scp999ticklemonster]

saw that you do Stray stuff so I wanted to ask 4 something-

maybe with Doc and Clem? Preferably Clem ler? But do whatever or both whatever floats your boat!

:]

[cloudysfluffs]

I love the way you drew Sam and Max in your art style! I hope you do more tk art of them (no pressure though draw what you want)

there is nothing id rather draw for you anon!!!! i LOVE making art of these two <3333333333

(dont worry, sam's got a sneaky way of escaping)

(ns//fw and/or fetish blogs please dni🙏🙏)

[cadavercowboy]

To Serve And Neglect

Pairing: Sheriff Lee Bodecker x Reader

Summary: Lee Bodecker doesn't abide by the rule of never bringing your work home with you. He just wants to hang out!

Word Count: 4.5k+

Warnings: Explicit content (18+ only). Description of reader’s clothing. Mentions of stalking. Implied drugging. Kidnapping & imprisonment. Light bondage. Brief use of ‘pup’ & ‘puppy’. Oral sex. Cum eating. Improper handling of a firearm. Dub-con/non-con elements.

A/N: Sorry. Can't explain. Feeling violent.

The strange, unsigned letters arriving each day in your mailbox had been odd. The expensive gifts and veritable garden of bouquets on your porch, a burden. But it is the partially open window — one which your paranoia had prompted you to lock and then check three times before bed last night — that is finally a bridge too far. 

Armed with a shoebox full of evidence and an armful of this morning’s flower delivery, you march through the doors of the police department and demand an audience with the sheriff. The poor deputy seated at the desk observes your irate countenance with a pair of raised brows, unmoving until you repeat your request more firmly. You wait only a few minutes before you’re beckoned down the hallway by a tall, uniformed man who introduces himself as Sheriff Bodecker.

You stride along behind him amidst the sound of your clicking heels and the whooshing of the poofy skirt of your patterned dress, the hem of which brushes the sheriff’s thighs as he invites you to step into the office ahead of him.

As you take a seat, you lay the paper-wrapped roses across his desk and set the overflowing box of stationary and notes alongside them, being careful not to knock the brass nameplate off the wooden surface. With a heaving sigh, Lee — according to aforementioned nameplate — rounds the desk and eases his weight down into a creaky high-backed chair.

“What can I do for you, miss?” he inquires dryly, seemingly uninterested.

Smoothing the soft fabric of your dress along your thighs, you sit up straighter and look the formidable man in the eye. It will do you no favors to appear weak and frightened, even if that is precisely what you are. You hope your feigned strength will make your claim more believable. 

“I need to file a report,” you begin confidently. “I’m being stalked.”

Lee’s eyebrows practically fly up into his hairline and he purses his lips as he contemplates your bold statement. He says nothing for a long moment and you feel yourself deflate slightly beneath his scrutinizing stare. You should have known a man wouldn’t believe your unsubstantiated claim, he’d simply write you off as hysterical.

Before you can accept your fate and leave the office with at least some of your dignity still intact, the sheriff leans forward. He braces his elbows on the desk and folds his hands beneath his chin.

“And all this?” he wonders, flicking a pinky out in the direction of the items you’ve laid out before him.

Hope renewed when he questions the evidence you’ve brought along, you’re quick to lift the top off of the old shoebox to reveal its contents. You aren't sure why you've kept them all, though you're suddenly glad you had. Inside is what must be hundreds of letters, notes, and cards. Of course you hadn’t taken the time to individually count them, but it's obvious the stationary within is numerous. Reaching in, you gather several pieces of paper off the top and hand them to the sheriff who takes the stack rather hesitantly.

“Someone has been sending me all these letters and notes. At first, I thought it was just some sort of practical joke,” you explain. “But what’s written in there…there are things no one could know unless they were…watching me.”

Your throat grows tight and your cheeks warm as you recall some of the things this mystery scribe had written, knowing that Lee now reads them too. The sender had begun to mention events from your daily life that no person could possibly know unless they were with you. As time passed, their letters grew in intensity; complimenting you in an intimate manner, noting various opinions on you and your ‘unbelievable beauty’ and even going so far as to name all the things they’d like to do both to and with you. 

What began simply as a strange correspondence quickly grew eerie and obsessive. They spoke of the sort of subjects you wouldn’t discuss with a close friend let alone reveal to a complete stranger, though you know the impropriety is necessary at this point.

Lee rifles through the letters before reaching into the box himself to explore further. His face is the picture of concentration as he scans each word and gathers an idea of what you’ve been dealing with. In one particular letter he unfolds, you recognize the haphazard state of the scribbled writing and how it appears to have been composed in anger. It is a letter whose inappropriate content you remember well and you feel a sudden need to distract Lee from his perusal.

“And there’s also the flowers,” you offer, fingers tapping on the bouquet’s wrappings. “Every single day, there’s more flowers.”

The sheriff lifts his gaze from the crumpled sheet clutched in his hand and his eyes flick between you and the fresh flowers. His expression reveals nothing as he places the letter on the desk and leans back in his chair.

“So you’ve got a secret admirer.”

You flinch as if you’ve been hit with a physical blow. How could he possibly reduce your predicament to something so innocent and juvenile? Had he even read those letters?

“Sir…with all due respect, I’m concerned for my safety,” you declare. “Some of the more recent letters imply that this creep wants to reveal his identity to me! Look right here, this one especially!”

With a pointed finger, you jab the piece of paper and direct his attention to a letter that is borderline threatening. Sheriff Bodecker inhales sharply and offers a slow nod of his head as he shuffles some of the other discarded stationary across the surface of his desk. Interlocking his fingers, he reclines again and rests his hands across his belly while he regards you. 

“I suppose there are some unsettlin’ things in there,” Lee drawls. “But it all seems rather harmless and unfortunately, there ain’t much I can do if this person hasn’t taken any direct action.”

“They broke into my house,” you admit softly.

You aren’t sure why your voice wavers or your eyes moisten, but you suppose finally admitting it out loud to another person makes it undeniably real. Your stalker’s gifts had made you uncomfortable, but their gall to physically threaten you — no matter how indirect — and leave clear evidence of having done so has shaken you. 

“Broke in?” Lee nearly barks, straightening in his seat. “When was this? Why didn’t you say so?”

You explain the situation to Lee, detailing your certainty that you weren’t responsible for the open window. Having now heard something of substance, he finally takes out a sheet of paper and begins to document everything you’ve told him. You’re relieved that you’re being taken seriously, however Lee’s sudden concern has you even more fearful than before. By the end of your statement, your shoulders slump and your hands vibrate in your lap.

“I’ll have this report filed and send some officers to your address to check everything out,” he assures you as he takes notice of your distressed state. “Can I get you something warm to drink?”

You’re quick to accept the sheriff’s offer, opting for a cup of hot tea which he returns with shortly. He carefully hands the steaming mug over then disappears behind you to shut the office door with a soft click, closing you both off from the rest of the department. Before returning to his place behind the desk, Lee gently rests a large hand on your shoulder, his fingers gliding with ease as he rubs your back reassuringly.

"We'll get this all figured out, honey. Don't you worry."

Lifting the edge of the faded brown ceramic to your lips, you nod your head and take a tentative sip, doing your best not to wince. Although Lee asked how you take your tea, it tastes nothing like you expect. It’s awful, in fact. While the sweet flavor of sugar is present, the scalding liquid carries an underlying and off-putting bitterness. Still, you’re too polite to turn the drink down and so you daintily nurse the unfavorable beverage while Lee reads your statement back to you to ensure he has it exactly right. 

It’s unclear at first whether the fuzzy memory of the sheriff’s office was a dream or if the circumstance you currently find yourself in is one. The pressure of the dirty concrete floor is agonizing against the hardened curve of your bare knees, though it’s nothing compared to the fiery ache which zips along your shoulders. The muscles are tired and over-extended, your arms pulled high above your head where your rope-bound wrists hang from an iron hook on the end of a chain that’s affixed to the ceiling. 

Slipping in and out of consciousness, it’s impossible to know how long you’ve been strung up here like an animal awaiting slaughter. Only that it hasn’t been long enough for your poor muscles to go completely numb yet. Your joints ache mightily and your mouth is uncomfortably dry. You blink to clear your hazy eyes, but even then, your surroundings are totally unfamiliar. 

Pain spears through your shoulders when you shift your weight to look around, spotting very little that helps to identify where you are. A stack of dusty boxes fills one corner and a metal shelf strewn with various tools sits propped against the opposite wall. It’s clear you’re in a small basement, though you have no idea how you got here.

From behind you, a door creaks open and a band of golden light fills the room; growing broader and spanning the length of the cramped cellar before a loud slamming shrouds you back into darkness. Wooden stairs squeak and groan beneath someone of notable heft and your skin prickles as they descend and approach. The distinguishable click of a pull-switch overhead bathes you in a blinding halo of light.

“I could have been so sweet.”

The deep voice comes from right beside you and makes you jump. While its tone sounds vaguely familiar, you’ve yet to fully regain your facilities and it feels as if your ears are full of wet cotton. It's difficult for you to make the connection as to why you recognize it.

Scuffling feet shift and begin to step around you where your body practically dangles from the ceiling. You peer upwards, squinting against the brightness of the bare bulb that shines above you until the stinging in your eyes forces you to lower your gaze back to the floor.

“I gave you so much. So much of myself. So many gifts,” the man continues. “All you had to do was accept them…accept me.”

Your stomach drops and the words hit you like a barreling freight train. Your stalker. Squirming in your binds, you fruitlessly attempt to twist away from the dark figure which slips into your periphery. The movement is painful and when you try to shift your bare feet, you realize your ankles are lashed together with even more rope. A desperate whimper bubbles up in your throat.

“I didn’t ask for much in return. I just wanted you to be mine,” he insists, as if it were a small favor. “Now I won’t give you a choice.”

The man’s words darken with anger and when the light from above is blocked out by the mass of his body, you dare to look at him. Your eyes fall upon a pair of black-booted feet before moving upwards to a pair of dark gray slacks dissected by the tell-tale black line of uniform slacks. A sense of dread spreads like a growing chasm in your belly. 

Following the expanse of a pair of long legs, you observe a standard-issue utility belt and clench your teeth to hold in a frightened sob. If not for his terrifying declaration, the sight of a uniform man would have felt like a relief. You may have thought he was here to help you with your predicament. But given what he’s said, you know his intentions are much more nefarious.

Your eyes seem reluctant to move any further and you spend a long moment observing the yellowed buttons which secure the crisp material of his white shirt. Ultimately, you force yourself to gaze upon the face of your captor, already knowing what horror awaits you.

Even with the expectation of his identity, the revelation of Lee Bodecker’s ice-cold stare is sobering nonetheless. A quivering exhale escapes through your nostrils and you feel your lower lip tremble as he looms above you with an expression of disappointment and impatience.

“Sheriff?” you ask pointlessly, finding it difficult to believe this irrefutable truth.

Lee studies you with something ominous in his demeanor. So smoldering and rife with an indeterminate fire that you can almost feel its heat upon your skin. His eyes hone in on the uncertainty blanketing your face and you notice the ghost of a smirk haunting the corners of his pinkened lips. 

“I didn’t want it to be like this,” he promises, stooping to kneel in front of you.

“Lee, please,” you beg, your voice hoarse. “I didn’t—”

He hushes you right away, furrowing his brows and bringing a single finger to his lips as he shakes his head. You snap your mouth shut and tears begin to well in your eyes. There’s nothing you can say to change his mind, that much is obvious. Your eyes return to the ground with a guilt you’re not sure you should even feel, though Lee’s demand brings your gaze back up.

“Look at me!” he barks impatiently as his hand flies out to cup your chin in his calloused palm. “Keep your eyes on me, just like that.”

You obey out of sheer terror, heart pounding and limbs shaking at the unwavering way he raises his voice. His thumb shifts from your chin to your lower lip where he toys with the soft flesh and presses the finger against your mouth until it grazes against your front teeth.

“If I let you down, will you be good?” Lee asks.

He lifts his chin upwards, gesturing towards your hands over your head. Watching intently, he smirks crookedly when you blink with wet eyes and nod in ardent agreement. The smile does little to offer you much relief or comfort. When Lee stands, you shift anxiously and the links of the chain overhead twist and pop. 

His fingers are rough but warm when he reaches for the rope wrapped tightly around your arms and begins to undo the knots. For a moment, you consider whether an attempt at escape is worthwhile.

You have no desire to stick around and see what Lee intends to do with you, though you’re uncertain if he plans to release your ankles and even provide the opportunity. Given the way your legs tingle, you’re not certain you’re even capable of outrunning him anyway. As if able to read your mind, Lee pauses and levels an admonishing look at you. Taking note of your diminutive expression, he carries on.

With your wrists finally freed, your arms drop to your sides and searing pain mingles with the relief you feel. Fire blazes through your muscles as sensation returns to your limbs and you can’t help crying out.

Lee kneels before you again and gathers each wrist, lifting them up to inspect the indentations left upon your skin. When he leans in and you can see he intends to bring your wounded skin to his lips, you yank yourself away from his grip. The momentum causes you to tip backwards where you catch your weight with your hands and begin — with much difficulty considering your bound ankles — to scoot away from Lee who watches with disapproval.

You make it only a few feet away from him before your back hits the cold, solid wall. Lee stands at his full height, taking the three steps it requires to crowd your space before he speaks.

“Now, I thought we agreed you’d be good,” he chides, his voice eerily flat.

Still following his earlier instruction, your eyes do not leave Lee’s face. Not when he sighs and tilts his head to look down at you like a misbehaved child. And especially not when his right hand drops to the front of his pants where he gropes himself through the starched material of his slacks. Even when a low groan rumbles in his chest and you have a pretty good idea of what’s happening, you still refuse to break eye contact.

Deft fingers pop open the button of his slacks before lowering the zipper with a grinding sound which seems to echo off the pervasive walls of tension that close in on the pair of you. If possible, your mouth grows even drier and as you work to produce saliva, you note that the bitterness you experienced earlier while drinking Lee’s proffered tea still remains. Lee enjoys observing the struggle that flashes across your face when his hand delves into the open fly of his pants to engulf his growing erection in his hand before freeing it from the tight confines.

You hadn’t wanted to look, but something comes over you and your eyes seem to move of their own volition. Lee allows your disobedience only so he can watch the shock and fear erupt in your eyes as he exposes his hardened cock to you, hissing as the turgid flesh catches on the coarse metallic teeth of his open zipper. 

Dragging his warm palm with agonizing slowness along his length, Lee plants a booted foot beside your bent knee, the motion causing the utility belt he still wears to shift and jingle. You want to move away from the nearness of his crotch, but with a slab of cinder block at your back, there’s nowhere left for you to go.

“You know, I planned to bring you home last night when I came to your house,” Lee admits, switching hands to work his other fist languidly over his cock. “But I got so distracted by those pretty lips. Spent all night watching them while you slept. Jerked off thinking about how they’d feel…how they’d taste. Next thing I know, sun is coming up and you’re starting to wake.”

The tears which had formed earlier spill from your eyes and roll in fat drops down your cheeks now; something which seems to satisfy Lee given his throaty groan. You’d come to the sheriff for his help and all along, he’d been the very epicenter of your worst nightmare. And now you have no way to escape him. He squeezes a shiny drop of precum from the tip of his swollen shaft before using his tight grip to angle his length expectantly in your direction.

“Show me what those pretty lips can do.”

You’ve hardly begun to shake your head when Lee’s free hand moves to settle on the butt of the gun secured at his hip. His sharp voice cracks through the air like a whip.

“Trust me, you don’t wanna say no.”

Although you’re terrified of the subtle threat he delivers with only a slight movement, you can’t possibly imagine Lee brandishing his weapon to control you. Surely, he couldn’t be that cruel.

You sniffle and let more tears fall, still making no obvious effort to acquiesce to his demand. Lee tries once more to direct his dribbling cock towards your mouth and you turn your head to the side at the last second. His tip drags along your cheek, leaving a warm wet trail across your skin.

This time, Lee’s threat is anything but idle. His gun slides from the holster with practiced ease before he’s holding it loosely, just inches away from your face. He scoffs coldly when you refuse to turn his way, outright denying him the acknowledgement you know he desires. Lee waves the revolver in front of your face, making sure he has your full attention before he opens the cylinder and shows you six clearly loaded cartridges. He watches a fresh wave of tears stream down your cheeks before snapping the gun shut once more.

“Open your mouth and pretend like you want it,” he growls. “I wanna hear you beg.”

Knowing you have no other choice, you relent. Turning back to him, you can only stare straight ahead at Lee’s thighs. You shift your weight forward and lift your hands, placing your palms against the muscles of his legs and dragging them from the tops of his thighs to his knees. Your voice is devoid of emotion or enthusiasm when you fulfill his order.

“Please, Lee.”

His chuckle is slick and cruel. Your tearful visage, scared eyes, and the humiliating way you paw at him like a pathetic animal has his blood pumping until his cock swells to the point of pain. He’s certain he’s never been so hard in his life.

“Aw, what a good little pup,” he praises, unable to resist teasing you for the demeaning way you perform at his feet. “Good puppies get treats. Are you gonna keep being good for me?”

Although you cry, you agree to his request. You’re too afraid to do otherwise and the ever-present weapon he holds prevents you from daring to deny him what he wants. Lee asks you once more to look at him, a condescending approval in his voice when he reminds you how good you are for listening.

“C’mon, open,” he prompts, the tip of his cock tapping against your mouth. “Wrap your lips around it.”

You’re hesitant at first, instinctively mashing your lips together against the attempted intrusion. He’s so close you can smell the scent of fresh laundry and feel the warmth that pours off of his broad body. Lee presses the swollen head more insistently to your mouth, though your brain refuses to allow your body to cooperate. Any inclination you had to continue defying his silent inquest is swiftly eliminated by the cold, hard steel pressing against your forehead.

As if flipping a switch, your mouth opens and allows entrance. The hot tip of Lee’s cock slides against you, just barely making contact with your tongue. His essence is slightly salty and causes your mouth to water, much to your horror. He makes no attempt to insert himself further, simply allowing the weight of his erection to rest along your lower lip.

Your obedience seems to appease him and he allows the muzzle of his revolver to slide from your forehead to your temple where it comes to rest firmly on the vein which throbs just beneath the delicate skin. Saliva begins to gather in your mouth and you’re on the verge of drooling all over yourself. Without prompting or permission, you close your lips around the ridged crown of Lee’s cock and he grunts in approval.

Almost on instinct, you use your tongue to form a light suction and begin to suckle gently at the first inch of the length which parts your lips. Your tongue swirls, swiping tenderly along the smooth and overly-sensitive flesh. Lee’s knees threaten to buckle as he watches you perform with uncertainty and as he feels himself edging closer and closer to orgasm, his thumb pulls back the hammer on the gun still situated at your temple.

The sound of the revolver cocking frightens you, certainly an indication that you’ve done something wrong. Worried that Lee is angered by your presumptive actions, you whimper and try to release him but his free hand swoops in to hold your jaw and keep you in place.

“Keep going, sugar,” he pleads breathlessly. “Keep being a good girl.”

He moves the gun again, this time wedging the hard barrel just under your chin. You begin to cry anew, your face twisted in fear that he may still choose to harm you even given your obedience. However, Lee shushes you and reminds you to continue what you’re doing.

“Just wanna see all of that pretty face when I cum,” he clarifies, evidently hoping his words will soothe you.

As his breathing grows labored and his thighs begin to twitch with his impending release, Lee’s demeanor changes and he becomes more intense. The fingers holding your chin tighten with uncomfortable force and he digs the revolver’s barrel so deeply into your neck that you can feel it shifting against every pulse of your artery.

“Gonna make me cum, baby. That’s it, keep sucking the tip,” he grunts. “Just the tip…that’s all you deserve. Don’t deserve the rest of me yet. But you will soon. Yeah, my good girl’s gonna earn it, isn’t she?”

Lee rambles dirtily, the vein that runs along the underside of his cock throbbing as he twitches between your lips. You suck harder then, prompting him to exclaim hoarsely and allow another inch of his erection to slip into the glorious wet warmth of your mouth. When his hands begin to shake, you worry about the loaded and cocked gun he still holds against you. There isn’t much time to consider it because Lee pulls out hastily, releasing your face and using that hand to furiously jerk himself off.

He pants and a broken sound stutters from his parted lips as the first hot spurt of his cum lands on your cheek. Whispering only to himself, Lee wrings every drop of his release over the planes of your face; each thick stream splashing wetly across the bridge of your nose and over the seam of your spit-slicked lips. When he’s finished milking his cock, Lee requests — with unexpected gentleness — for you to open your mouth yet again. Upon doing so, he uses his softening length to swipe across your face and push some of his seed into your mouth so it dribbles onto your tongue before he allows the flaccid appendage to drop from his hand.

“So good for me, pretty girl,” he praises under his breath, patting your head with something resembling affection.

To your surprise, Lee takes the gun still gripped securely in his other hand and drags the cold barrel along your cheek then down your jawline. He gathers some of the sticky drops from your face onto the black steel and lifts his weapon to observe the narrow barrel before bringing it to his own mouth. The tip of his pink tongue flicks out to trace the metal’s edge before he wraps his lips around the hollow opening much the way you’d just done to his dick and he sucks the firearm clean.

“Next time I’ll let you swallow all of me,” he offers unprompted as he finally holsters his weapon and readjusts his pants.

You’re unsure whether the invitation is meant to be some sort of reward or just another threat and your brows furrow in confusion. Though it’s nothing compared to the confusion you feel as Lee reaches to wrap the discarded rope back around your wrist. When he assures you that continuing to behave will mean he won’t have to tie you up again, you bite your tongue to stop yourself from outright begging him not to leave you in the cold and dark like his needy, forgotten pet.

Sebastian Stan Masterlist ✦ Writing Masterpost

[disastersteps]

post reveal mortumstep working together be like-

the dialogue is based & inspired by these panels from bat man (2016) #89 pg 15!

[mushyblushyredhead]

The long awaited arrival!! (*^▽^*) PETER 2 GET GOT 👹👹✨