#Mimic can still twist his head off

[chaotichyperfixations]

mimic vs mendo who wins

[whatswrongwithblue]

Girl Talk

Part Two of my Imagines with Angel Dust.

“So Alastor, he’s like all . . .” Angel Dust made strange gestures with his hands above his head, his thumbs pressed to his hair and fingers splayed out, and you were fairly certain he was trying to mimic antlers growing. “. . . murder-y and shit right? Even if he’s at the hotel, you can’t expect us to believe he’s stopped doing all that.”

It was late at night and you and Angel were at the bar, keeping Husk company, and nursing a couple of cocktails.

Alastor had disappeared hours ago, which wasn’t unusual, but it was getting late. You weren’t letting yourself be worried just yet, he was the Radio Demon after all, and could certainly take care of himself. But you couldn’t help being a little on edge. Alastor always came home but still. He could give you an idea of where he had gone off to and what he was doing when he took off like this.

“Why, are you going to tattle to Charlie if I say he is?” you said, a little too defensively.

“Hey, I ain’t no rat,” Angel said, also defensive. “I’m just trying to figure the guy out.”

“He’s still the Radio Demon,” you respond vaguely.

“Oh well that tells me everything.” Angel rolled his eyes.

Husk chuckled, wiping a glass dry.  

“He’s a serial killer and a cannibal. The day that guy stops doing all that is the day I’ll stop drinking and gambling.”

You scowl over the rim of your cocktail.

“You make him sound like a monster when you say it like that.”

Husk raised an eyebrow at you.

“Excuse me if I ain’t your boytoy’s number one fan. ‘Sides, not like anything I said wasn’t true.”

“Hey, he’s not out their killing all willy nilly, right?” Angel offered. “I mean, I pissed him off the other day and he let me go. Val woulda done way worse. So that means he’s got a type, I’m assuming? Like a uh . . . a demographic . . . of people he kills. If you ain’t that, he’ll still be creepy and fucking weird, but you’re probably safe.”

“Probably,” you smirk.

“Whatever,” Husk said with a grumble, and threw his towel over his shoulder, turning his back on the two of you.

“So, about those tentacles-“

“No,” you snapped, cutting off Angel’s sentence before it could be finished.

“Oh come on! You can’t leave me hanging like that!”

You just rolled your eyes and sighed, taking another sip of your drink.

“Oh . . . hanging, now there’s a thought,” Angel pressed on. “So suspensory play, huh? I bet those are really fun for that. Just how talented is the guy with those things? Because I bet with some practice, you could even use them for some interesting kind of Shibari. Or is he unimaginative and just shoves them right up your-“

“Angel, seriously, did you not learn your lesson last time?”

“Oh I learned my lesson all right. I learned how hot it is. So c’mon, admit it,” he teased, leaning closer to you, “you guys are into bondage.”

You laughed, unable to hide the sly smile on your face, but said nothing.

“I guess it makes sense,” Angel continued, “the guy does own souls. He’s probably gotta have that type of control in the bedroom.”

“You just go ahead and let your imagination run wild, my friend,” you said with a giggle.

“Baby, my imagination can run marathons,” Angel bragged. Then suddenly, he turned serious and looked over at you. “Wait, does he own your soul?”

Husk turned around and both men were now looking at you. Knowing both of their predicaments, you almost felt bad for your answer.

“No,” you said quietly.

“NO?!” Angel yelled, slapping his hand down on the bar counter.

‘No,” you repeated.

“But . . . but, that’s what he does. I mean, he even owns Niffty’s soul. So why are you with him-“

“Angel,” you interrupted, putting your hand on his arm. “I’m with him because I love him. Because I choose to be.” You said your words firmly, making sure your point was crystal clear. “And anyway, Alastor’s not the type to sleep with a soul he owns. It’s hard to explain his twisted moral code but he would think that was rude . . . or abusive . . . or just trashy. No offense.”

You knew about Angel’s forced and strained deal with Valentino and felt awkward, exposing the stark differences between your relationship and theirs.

“If I was making him sound like a monster, you’re making him sound like a fucking angel,” Husk said.

“Fair,” you agreed. “So, he’s complicated. But so am I.”

“So you really are into monster fucking. Got it,” Angel said, sounding deadly serious but when you looked at him, you saw the hint of a smile beginning to spread across his face.

“Wellllll,” you said, drawing out the word and giving Angel a side eye, “sometimes he has to blow off some steam. And those antlers are great for holding onto for balance.”

Angel choked on the drink he was taking a sip from.

“Now we’re talking,” Angel replied, eagerly leaning towards you again.

You held up a finger, stopping Angel from invading your space anymore. “That’s more than enough information for now.”

“Let me get this straight. He’s got the tentacles, he’s got the antlers,” Angel listed, holding up a finger for each item on his list. He held up a third finger, looking at you and tilting his head expectantly. “Say, you ever have a threesome with his shadow?”

You felt your face heating up, desperately trying to keep your composure and think of a witty response that wouldn’t give anything more away than your expression was, when thankfully you were saved by the front doors of the hotel slamming open.

Alastor walked in, his usual confident walk more of an exhausted shuffle, and he was covered head to toe in blood and the occasional clump or string of viscera.

“Holy shit buddy,” Angel exclaimed, “looks like you bit off more than you can chew.”

“I’m fine,” Alastor huffed and waved his hand dismissively. “Splendid, really. Just need some cleaning up.”

“Do you need any help?” you asked, sounding more flirty than concerned.

“Down girl,” Alastor replied and tapped you on the head with his microphone as he strode past you. “I’ll see you all in the morning.”

He evaporated into shadow as he reached the staircase.

“If he could just do that, then why’d he have to make a show of walking through the front doors?” Angel complained, “He left bloody footprints all over the lobby!”

“That’s Al’ for you,” Husk said, “Always gotta be dramatic.”

You sat in silence, ignoring the two men’s banter and you gripped the glass of your cocktail, staring at it as if it had your entire focus.

A few moments went by where no one said anything and the lull in conversation became awkward.

“You don’t have to stay down here, you know,” Angel offered. “I can tell you want to go sexually attack him.”

You nodded. “I need to go lick every inch of that man clean,” you said and headed upstairs.

Part 3

[twistedworld101]

List of Unique Magic of the Original Characters

HEARTSLABYUL

Riddle -- OFF WITH YOUR HEAD  (Lit. Behead Them)

ABILITY:

Summons a collar around the target’s neck and seals their magic.

INCANTATION: 

I’ll hand down my sentence. The verdict comes afterwards. Are you ready? Off With Your Head!

FIRST APPEARANCE: 

Unique Magic: Prologue 3

Incantation: Twisted-Wonderland Manga Episode of Heartslabyul: Volume 1 (p.50)

Ace

NOT REVEALED

Deuce -- BET THE LIMIT (Lit. Tit for Tat)

ABILITY: 

Builds up damage taken by attacks and returns it all at once twofold.

INCANTATION:

I’ll make you pay for that! Brace yourself! Bet the Limit!

FIRST APPEARANCE:

Unique Magic/Incantation: Episode 5-64

Cater -- SPLIT CARD (Lit. Scattered Hand of Cards)

ABILITY:

Creates clones of himself.

INCANTATION:

I am him, and he is another. Split Card!

FIRST APPEARANCE:

Unique Magic: Episode 1-15 / P.E. Cater Vignette

Incantation: P.E. Cater Vignette

Trey -- DOODLE SUIT (Lit. Paint the Roses)

ABILITY:

Temporarily overwrites a specific component of the target item.

INCANTATION:

White to red, and red to white. Doodle Suit!

FIRST APPEARANCE:

Unique Magic: Episode 1-14

Incantation: Twisted-Wonderland The Novel Episode 1: The Red-Rose Tyrant (p.249)

SAVANACLAW

Leona -- KING’S ROAR (Lit. Roar of the King)

ABILITY:

Destroys anything into dust 

INCANTATION:

I am hunger. I am thirst. I am what robs you of tomorrow. King’s Roar!

FIRST APPEARANCE:

Unique Magic: Episode 2-25 / Dorm Leona Vignette

Incantation: Dorm Leona Vignette

Jack -- UNLEASH BEAST (Lit. Shattering Howl on a Moonlit Night)

ABILITY:

Transforms into a wolf.

FIRST APPEARANCE:

Unique Magic: Episode 2-26

Ruggie -- LAUGH WITH ME (Lit. Fool’s Parade)

ABILITY:

Controls others to mimic his movements.

INCANTATION:

Both kings and hyenas are my friends! Laugh With Me!

FIRST APPEARANCE:

Unique Magic: Episode 2-2 (first seen), 2-23 (name spoken)

Incantation: Twisted-Wonderland Episode of Savanaclaw Volume 2

OCTAVINELLE

Azul -- IT’S A DEAL (Lit. Golden Contract)

ABILITY:

Takes any power from the target once they sign a contract.

INCANTATION:

The song ends, the sun sets. Extend mercy upon these poor souls. Now, the deal is struck! It’s a Deal!

FIRST APPEARANCE:

Unique Magic: Episode 3

Incantation: Glorious Masquerade (Event) Episode 5-5

Jade -- SHOCK THE HEART (Lit. Gnawing Teeth)

ABILITY:

Compels the target to speak the truth. Can only be used once per person.

INCANTATION:

No need to fear, I only wish to help you. Shock the Heart.

FIRST APPEARANCE:

Unique Magic: Episode 3

Incantation: Episode 4

Floyd -- BIND THE HEART (Lit. Coiling Tail)

ABILITY:

Blocks and diverts an opponent’s magic.

FIRST APPEARANCE:

Unique Magic: Episode 3

SCARABIA

Kalim -- OASIS MAKER (Lit. Everlasting Grace)

ABILITY:

Springs forth large quantities of water.

INCANTATION:

A haven within the hot sands, a never-ending feast. Dance! Sing! Oasis Maker!

FIRST APPEARANCE:

Unique Magic/Incantation: Episode 4

Jamil -- SNAKE WHISPER (Lit. Snake Charmer)

ABILITY:

Hypnotizes a target. They must look into his eyes for it to take effect.

INCANTATION:

The one you see reflected in your eyes is your master. Answer when I ask. Bow when I command. Snake Whisper.

FIRST APPEARANCE:

Unique Magic/Incantation: Episode 4

POMEFIORE

Vil -- FAIREST ONE OF ALL (Lit. Poison From a Beautiful Flower)

ABILITY:

Places a curse with a touch by specifying the conditions.

INCANTATION:

Nothing to lose, nothing to fear. The shining crown is meant for me. Fairest One Of All.

FIRST APPEARANCE:

Unique Magic: Episode 5

Incantation: Episode 6

Epel -- SLEEP KISS (Lit. Crimson Fruit)

ABILITY:

Places target in glass coffin and puts them to sleep.

INCANTATION:

Close your eyes, still your breath. Sleep Kiss.

FIRST APPEARANCE:

Unique Magic/Incantation: Episode 6

Rook -- I SEE YOU (Lit. Arrow that Flies to the Furthest Reaches)

ABILITY:

Once cast on a target, he can pinpoint its exact location.

INCANTATION:

Come, let’s see you try to outrun me. I See You.

FIRST APPEARANCE:

Unique Magic/Incantation: Episode 6

IGNIHYDE

Idia -- GATE TO UNDERWORLD (Lit. Opened Gateway to the Underworld)

ABILITY:

Opens and closes the door to the “Underworld” in STYX HQ.

INCANTATION:

Game, Set, Match. Gate to Underworld.

FIRST APPEARANCE:

Unique Magic/Incantation: Episode 6

DIASOMNIA

Malleus -- FAE OF MALEFICENCE (Lit. Blessing)

ABILITY:

Casts a web of thorns and places everyone within to sleep.

INCANTATION:

Spinning wheel of fate, keep pulling the thread of disaster. As King of the Abyss, I shall bestow this upon you. Fae of Maleficence.

FIRST APPEARANCE:

Unique Magic/Incantation: Episode 7

Silver -- MEET IN A DREAM (Lit. Let’s Share the Same Dream)

ABILITY:

Allows the caster to jump into other people’s dreams. Only can be used while asleep. Cannot choose the dream that is jumped to. The dreamer is indicated by a white bird-like wisp.

INCANTATION:

To the one I’ve met before, to the one I’ve yet to meet. Meet in a Dream.

FIRST APPEARANCE:

Unique Magic/Incantation: Episode 7

Sebek -- LIVING BOLT (Lit. Flash of Lightning)

ABILITY:

His body becomes lightning, which allows him to move and strike like one.

INCANTATION:

Strike through the stormy heavens, O lightning! 

FIRST APPEARANCE:

Unique Magic/Incantation: Episode 7

Lilia -- FAR CRY CRADLE (Lit. To the Furthest Cradle)

ABILITY:

Allows the caster to play back the memory of an “object” for a short time.

INCANTATION:

All is as if it were days long past. No matter where it takes us, it will all be over in the blink of an eye. Far Cry Cradle.

FIRST APPEARANCE:

Unique Magic/Incantation: Episode 7

OTHERS

Rollo Flamme -- DARK FIRE (Lit. Burning Desire)

ABILITY:

His body is wrapped in flames that he can manipulate at will. The more his foes are afraid, confused, or frustrated, the stronger his flames.

INCANTATION:

O crimson flower, scorch my soul and guide me. Dark Fire!

FIRST APPEARANCE:

Unique Magic/Incantation: Glorious Masquerade (Event) Episode 5-5

Fellow Honest -- LIFE IS FUN (Lit. Rose-Tinted Dream)

ABILITY:

Those afflicted feel more easy-going and optimistic and are more inclined to do things they wouldn’t normally do.

INCANTATION:

Come on to the theater! Life is Fun!

FIRST APPEARANCE:

Unique Magic/Incantation: Stage in Playful Land (Event) Episode 5-6

[vanilleandclove]

the meadow in which you lay | 5

ser erryk cargyll x arryn!reader | chapter five: a knight's sworn virtue

As you and Erryk flee King's Landing to Dragonstone, it is only for certain that without the eyes and ears of others, your chance for love and pleasure are limited but boundless.

word count: 1.6k | warnings: unprotected sex (are condoms even canon in this universe?), seasickness and nausea, the reader literally hard launches. | a/n: finally, the sexual tension is released! also two-three more parts left... but which writing would you like to see after this?

previous - next

taglist: @wolvestitches @holb32 @callsignwidow @fwaeriys @hummusxx @erysione

"Where is Princess Rhaenys held?" you asked Erryk as his hand gripped the upper part of your bicep, guiding you throughout the halls of the castle.

"Keep your head down" he spoke sternly, his voice laced with such perturb for your anonymity; if Criston or any of the Hightowers caught the two of you, they'd surely make a demonstration out of you.

Your head hung low as Erryk took sharp turns, being greeting with numerous guards and handmaidens, until you both made it to Rhaenys's room only to be met with a separate knight, "Cole asked me to guard the Princess's door for the next shift; you're excused" Erryk told the knight, only earning a puzzled look.

"Need me to escort the whore in your hands Cargyll?" the knight smugly asked, only gaining a tick that left the mouth of Erryk.

"I will handle it" Erryk scoffed, looking at you as you anchored yourself further into his armored-clad body.

As the knight left you wondered how tone deaf and beyond disgraceful the other knights and Kingsguard were, how their training and vow of chastity must thoroughly impair their judgment and decency for women and how they describe and treat them. You were lucky that Erryk still had the honor to treat you as a woman with feelings, like a human. He treated your honor with such delicacy when he could have simply sworn off restraint and ravaged your body like a man whom held zero respect for love and all the respect for lust. Rhaenyra faced the same fealty when she had Harwin, you pitied the fact that she were not able to love the man of her hearts desires, though she did gain the affections and hand of Daemon; the father of her three firstborns as they grew into spitting images of their father must leave a sorrow taste.

"My apologies Y/n, had I be King or an upper lord, I would have had his tongue" Erryk whispered to you before tampering with the lock on Rhaenys's door. Though failing at first you quickly took a pin from your hair to mimic a key, what would the kind knight do without you. "You never fail to surprise me".

"It was a simple trick my mother once taught me" you told him before twisting the doorknob to open it, being met with the Princess. "Your savior is here my dear Princess" you joked lightly before Erryk went into the door to hand Rhaenys a change of clothes as disguise.

"I can only imagine Alicent attempted get into your head with promises her father and her cannot keep" you told Rhaenys, helping her dress into less proper dressings, "Whatever side you choose to be on will either make or break the relationship you have with your own kin. The support of you and your lord husband is dire, with Corlys being on the brink of health, you act as his ward and voice of reason".

Rhaenys only gave you a fond look, admiring you've now become, "You have always been a spitfire Lady Arryn, just as your father. Though I do not understand the unwavering support to your cousin with all that has occurred".

"I will defend my kin until death" you answered, "Only then the one's against my own will know peace".

"Just as Ser Erryk swore an oath of his own" Rhaenys poked at you, "Let us proceed, I must get to Meleys".

You half agreed, now that the coronation was to take place on the hour, the Dragonpit may not be as secured, "We must direct the Princess to the Dragonpit Erryk, Meleys will be of-".

"They will be expecting her there-".

"They expect Aegon to be crowned in front of the small and higher folk, the Dragonpit is of no concern of theirs. Meleys is needed, my love" you fought back, acquiring a smirk from both Rhaenys and Erryk, "I will follow you, Rhaenys will go off on Meleys after reaching the pit, she will reach my cousin quicker than the two of us".

As both you and Erryk reached the fleet of ships, he held your hand like a vice as you stepped into the designated ship to Dragonstone, the floors wet from rain and the ocean, preventing you from slipping. You looked up from the floor, still being held by Erryk to see Meleys and Rhaenys flying above you, hearing the screams of the people behind you. Now Rhaenys knows how to make a demonstration, you thought, a small smirk reaching your face before Erryk directed you to the quarters of the ship.

"We should arrive upon sunset tomorrow" Erryk told you upon removing his cloak and armor in order to relax his tensed muscles. You nodded before unraveling the strings of your cloak and corset beneath the draped fabrics, the knight not noticing before looking up at you. Your boots knocked off quickly, trousers removed with haste, the sight of your supple breasts set his mind on a whirlwind.

"You are not sworn to a King" you spoke, "Nor have you verbally made a sworn oath to the Queen". You stared into your lover's soul, wondering if he caught where you were coming from, you hoped he did, or else you'd be rather embarrassed to be completely bare to a man under zero pretenses. Fortunately, he caught on your words, his body making way to your own, his hand finding purchase along your curves.

You gracefully untied the knight's breeches, before yanking them downwards, he removed his own blouse. Standing before each other, naked and bare, staring intently at the man who captured your heart when you were in your youth, now a woman, the loyalty never wavered or bent. You had zero idea who laid the first kiss, but you did not complain as the passion ignited between the two of you like dragon's breath. His hand reached down to the aching pulse between your legs, his fingers lightly toying with your clit, your moans filling his mouth, nipples perked on his own chest, your body attempting to maintain its composure before your knees buckled onto a spring bed.

Your legs immediately wrapped around Erryk's waist, your hands finding themselves to hold his face dearly before kissing him once more, as if it was your last. Your left hand leaving to rake down the knight's chiseled body and the scars that painted it, as you reached his pelvis, you stared directly into his pupils before directing his cock to be in you. Your moans bounced off the walls as his leaky tip entered your sopping cunt, your hand gripping onto him for dear life before he positioned himself to enter you more.

"You may move love" you whimpered, your voice soft yet filled with wild lust that turned into groans of pleasure as Erryk pumped into you, his grunts intertwined with your moans, his hands finding themselves raked into your hair whilst the other was holding your waist secured. You let him milk your pleasure, allowing to be taken and sensually being cared for as the knight littered kisses along your breasts and nape of your neck.

"I love you Y/n" he shuddered, his pace and strokes being painfully slow yet left you ravenous for more, you felt yourself reach the edge of bliss as strings of curses left your mouth, your nails scraping his back. Your moans filling the room once more.

"I love you Erryk" you replied, holding onto him as neared your climax, your cunt fluttering. Your life flashing before your eyes, but all were memories of Erryk. "My moon and stars".

He smiled before feeling your cunt reach its peak, as you gripped on him with vigor, he felt his own climax reaching its peak soon after, his seed coating your walls. You both lay next to each other, chasing your own breaths. Until you spoke, "Had I known how much pleasure is gained from this, I would let go of restraint ages ago"

"Thought you were not so keen on being an oathbreaker my love" Erryk teased, holding you in his arms, close to his chest, "Do not fret, I would have easily as well".

You chuckled before feeling a pit in your stomach, a faint burning ravaging your throat. Immediately you rose to the light bile arising in your throat, quickly you covered yourself with Erryk's cloak before exiting the quarter to release the bile oversea. Your coughs burning your throat further. Erryk left the quarter near after with his breeches messily put on.

"Are you alright?" Erryk asked, massaging circles into your back, holding your hair up and out of your face before kissing the top of your head.

"Seasickness it is all" you told Erryk, "It should go away once we reach Dragonstone".

Your life was held in his hands, as his was to yours, the waves that rocked the ship greatly only led you grip onto Erryk for support. Oh, how you loved him greatly, how he loved you with even more sheer intensity.

[229zmi]

HEAD OVER HEELS

PAIRING: Kuroo Tetsurō/Reader

CONTENT: confessions, friends to lovers

WORD COUNT: 2.0k

“We need to talk.”

“Holy shit,” are the first words that escape your mouth moments after you open the door and step a singular foot into the hallway.

Before the person in front of you even has the chance to react to your very kind and courteous reaction, you proceed to slowly slide your foot back inside the classroom you were just about to exit, the noise of your sneakers scraping over the metal frame piercing the silence. Kuroo stifles a laugh behind his hand, smoothly playing it off as a cough.

Right as you’re about to shut the door, he swiftly sticks a foot in the doorway and then side shuffles his way in like a crab, all while combatting your feeble attempts to squash him with the door. Once you realise this guy isn’t going anywhere without a word with you, you give up with an aggravated sigh and step aside, giving him the Kubrick stare as he strolls past you.

You’re still glaring at him when he takes a seat on top of one of the desks, using the chair as a foot rest.

The table’s long enough that the two of you could comfortably sit side-by-side on it. He gestures to the empty space beside him, yet you don’t budge an inch from your spot. Instead, you opt to exhibit main character syndrome by crossing your arms and leaning against the wall at an uncomfortable angle. Seconds later, though, you shift your position, awkwardly shuffling to more comfortable pose.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Kuroo says in a stiff manner that leads you to believe he’s got a pre-written speech that he skimmed over only once before shoving it in his pockets. He glances around the room, everywhere but you. Fidgets with his watch, twisting it around and around his wrist. Clears his throat, before speaking up again when it becomes obvious you have nothing to say in response. “Actually— it’s been almost a month since we last talked. Now if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were avoiding me.”

He raises an eyebrow as if to silently question you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you announce haughtily. You pretend to think long and hard by simultaneously placing a finger on your chin and averting your gaze to one of the cobwebbed corners of the ceiling as you rack your brain for any memory of a conversation with him over these past few weeks. Come to think of it, he’s right, as much as you’d rather not admit that right now. The number of words exchanged between you and Kuroo has been… low, as of lately.

But not zero.

You snap your fingers and smile at your newfound eureka moment. “We talked during our physics lab last Tuesday.”

All he gives you is a placid stare because he’s not really believing what you’re saying right now. Slowly, he responds, “I asked if I could borrow a pencil from you and you said no.”

“‘Cause I didn’t have an extra one.” Lies. Kuroo knows of your susceptibility to ordering cute stationery from sketchy websites online and bringing all of them with you everywhere you go. Nonetheless, he holds back on calling out your fib. “It’s still talking anyway, so I don’t really see the problem,” you say.

“…Okay, then I rescind my sentence. It’s been almost a month since we’ve last had an actual conversation,” he corrects himself, his tone hinting at the tiniest bit of spite. “My point still stands. You haven’t been answering any of my calls or texts. All of a sudden, you go out of your way to sit on the opposite side of the classroom instead of your usual seat next to me. And every time I see you around on campus, you turn around and speed-walk in the other direction before I can even wave hi to you. It’s like watching on you move at 2x speed every time.”

He holds up two fingers and then wriggles them upside down in a way that’s supposed to mimic your alleged speed-walking. Clearly unimpressed, your upper lip curls into a scowl.

“Sounds a lot to me like avoidance, unless you’re purposely playing hard-to-get all of a sudden.”

“Those are some bold allegations.“

“Sure. Maybe they are.” He doesn’t bother arguing with you on that, which you believe is out of the ordinary, and it leaves an unsettling feeling in your gut. In all the years you’ve known him, you can’t remember the last time he agreed with you just like that, no debate or annoying remarks or anything, because it’s always been like this: you say literally anything with no evidence or explanation, and he plays pretend as someone having PhD in whatever it is that you’re talking about.

Maybe, you think dejectedly, you really did ruin your years-long friendship that one fateful day, the day you accidentally had one too many drinks and ended up spewing into the air a mix of vomit, nonsensical philosophies, and a confession you didn’t mean to ever let loose from the sanctuary of your heart. Maybe, things are changing, for the worse; and maybe, a rejection is going to come hurtling at your face soon, sometime in next couple minutes— that is, if you make it through the rest of this conversation without actually exploding internally. Either that, or power-walking away like a coward, the way you’ve been doing for the past month.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you watch as Kuroo leans back, bracing his hand against the surface of the table. You think this is the moment; this is when he’ll say something along the vague lines of the two of you just staying friends and leave it at that, and for the weeks that follow afterward, you’ll mull around in your room, sulking over your very first heartbreak until the motivation hits and you get the coming-of-age movie glow-up you’ve always dreamed of.

However, the next thing you hear out of him is far worse than anything you could imagine, making the warmth in your cheeks flare up the second his words register to you — or rather, your words.

“But maybe they’re not as bold as you the day right before you started avoiding me, when you said, and I quote, ‘Tetsurō,’” he pitches his voice to sound more like yours, though the impression is done exaggeratedly, “‘I think I’m falling in love with you.’”

???? Why did he do that.

The nerve of this man. You want to scream. Punch the wall. Kick him in the face. Because if the embarrassment that crushed you like a hydraulic press the morning after your confession was enough to almost kill you, this just brought you straight to your grave without warning, burying you six feet under. You start mentally counting all his eyebrow hairs, partly because you can’t stand to see that heinously satisfied look in his eyes right now, but also because you hope your sudden focus on the forehead region of his face will at least dwindle his confidence by a little bit.

(Though, perhaps the less vengeful part of you is glad to see the familiar smug Kuroo you know so well, as opposed to the prior Kuroo who looked like he hadn’t taken a shit in several weeks.)

“You really suck,” you drawl, finally shifting your attention away from his eyebrows only to send him a glare. “Do you think my feelings are a joke?”

His lips morph into a frown. “Hey, no. I wasn’t—“ He shakes his head, then tries to reassure you, “I don’t think your feelings are a joke, and I’m sorry I made it seem that way. I brought it up only because I wasn’t sure whether you remembered or not and I was wondering if you really meant it.”

You don’t know what to say to that.

“At first, I wasn’t going to talk about it with you, especially if you weren’t going to bring it up first, but then you started avoiding me and… [Y/n], I miss you a lot. I miss waking up to your texts and pictures of the ugly squirrels outside your window.” (You mutter something under your breath about how they aren’t that ugly.) “I miss sitting next to you and watching you switch between twenty different pens and highlighters during class.” (You bet he misses switching the caps of your highlighters, too, whenever you’re not looking.) “And I hate acting like we’re strangers whenever I see you on campus because, as funny as it is, it hurts a lot right here.”

He places a hand over his heart with a wounded expression. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you simply let out a dejected sigh.

“I.. I’ve missed you too,” you admit reluctantly. You twiddle your fingers and avert your eyes, wallowing in the awkward silence that ensues after. Kuroo seems to be thinking, centring his analytical gaze onto you as if trying to read your thoughts.

“Did you mean it? What you said at that party last month?”

Wow! Suddenly, that clock on the wall looks super interesting. “You know, my next class starts in a few minutes, I should really get going. See you—“

“I know your schedule,” he cuts in, his tone carrying a certain degree of slyness to it. “You don’t have class until four.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Weirdo.”

“Liar,” he retorts with a sickly sweet smile. For the second time in this conversation, you get the violent urge to scream, punch the wall, and kiss— sorry, kick him in the face all at once.

There’s another silence that follows and that you believe is the worst one you’ve sat through in a while, even worse than the silence you experienced in your first year after mispronouncing the word ‘organism’ during a presentation. You chew the inside of your cheek, feeling your heart thump wildly against your chest. He waits expectantly.

He really isn’t going to let this go.

“I did mean it,” you say eventually. Eugh, yuck! Even just admitting that already makes you want to coil into yourself. “You make me so sick to my stomach with your shitty grin and your shitty charm and your shitty hair, and sometimes I wonder what heinous crime or sin I committed in a past life to deserve this feeling because it never goes away, only gets worse the more we hang out and—“

“Woah, woah, woah. Hold on.” There’s a look of incredulity on his face, almost offended.

“…What?” you say.

“You called my hair shitty.” Again, you fight back the urge to roll your eyes, instead settling for a less-than-impressed expression. “I can’t believe you’d lie and say something like that. It’s practically a fine art, getting it to look like this, you know.”

“I’m sure it is.” You straighten your back and abruptly push yourself off the wall before ungracefully shuffling to the side, towards the door. “Well. We talked. You got your answer. Soooo, I am departing. Goodbye.”

“Wait.” He stands up and chases after you, nearly colliding with your back when you suddenly stop and turn around. There appears to be an unspoken agreement as soon as the both of you realise the amount of space in between your faces: mere inches. Neither of you seem willing to back away. “Before you go, I have something else to tell you.”

“Make it quick.”

A light laugh from him brushes against your nose. You try not to think about it. “You’re in that much of a hurry to get away from me already?”

Your face feels unbearably warm. “Shut up.”

“How sweet of you,” he coos, reaching up to pinch your cheek affectionately. Despite your irritated expression, you make no effort to swat his hand away.

He then leans in close, a debonair grin dancing at the corners of his mouth as his lips ghost over the shell of your ear. However, you note that in your peripheral vision, his ears are tinted red and in spite of his confident, teasing front, he still sounds the tiniest bit abashed as he whispers, “I think I’ve fallen in love with you, too.”

[coveredinsweetpea]

A/n: this is super random but I'm cleaning out my drafts folder and I figured since I don't even remember what was supposed to happen next, I might as well post it. Maybe it inspires someone to write a second part? 🥴🥴 Summary: Nancy gives you and Eddie a nasty dare, and as if doing that in front of everybody at the party wasn't bad enough, Jason decides to be a complete asshole. Good thing Eddie won't allow that 1.3k Warnings: this isn't smut but it does mimic or at least mention aspects such as oral (m receiving), humiliation, and degradation. also one watersports comment. pls 18+

The room went absolutely silent as soon as the dare reached everyone's ears. It was still early, no one was drunk yet, some weren't even tipsy, yet the words rolled off Nancy's lips as if she had something to win off of your humiliation. 

"You know, right? That if you don't want to do it, you don't have to?" Steve jumped to clarify as the shock on your face refused to wear off. 

You blinked and swallowed and then your eyebrows flew up for half a second as you shook your head. "It's really not that big of a deal" you smiled and turned to look at Eddie. "Right?"

"Right" he nodded, his grin only widening as he looked you up and down. 

While the rest of your friends kept on staring, Nancy and Jonathan, on the little armchair that they shared, furiously whispered between themselves. 

"Well" you took a deep breath and slapped Eddie's knee. "What are we waiting for?"

"I'll.. go grab the beer then" he said. 

As he got up and rounded the couch on his way to the minifridge in the corner of the basement, you stood up too, and fixed your skirt as you waited for him to return.

The expressions of shock on your friends' faces turned into pure excitement as Eddie grabbed your hand and led you to the nearest wall. 

"Get on your knees, sweetheart" he commanded and against the violent pit on your stomach, you did just that.

"Think she can swallow it all?" one of the girls laughed, making the others cheer like a pack of football jocks who celebrated a victory that was already theirs.

But they didn't get to you, at least not visibly. Your heart was beating rapidly all the way up in your throat and your shaky palms, wet and cold, gripped Eddie's jeans as you looked up at him. 

"You good, sweetheart?" he mouthed softly. 

His hand, warm and dry, cupped your cheek and he rubbed his thumb across your bottom lip as you nodded.

"You sure?"

You nodded again. 

"Ok, then" Eddie smiled. He moved the beer from his left hand to the right, and propped the top of the bottle against his handcuffs shaped belt buckle. Getting a better grip on the neck of the bottle, Eddie twisted it against the metal, having the top fly off with a quick and satisfying click.

Seeing the surprise on your face, Eddie shrugged proudly. "You didn't really think I bought this belt just because it looked cool, did you?"

"That was my mistake" you confessed with a giggle before your attention was grabbed by Jason and two of his friends as they walked over and squatted down by your side, all but bursting with enthusiasm.

"What?" one of them raised their hands in defense and looked back and forth between you and Eddie. "We wanted a better view"

Eddie grabbed your chin so you'd face him and sent you a knowing look. It didn't take a genius to know just how uncomfortable the situation could've been for you, and he wanted to make sure you were alright. 

"It's ok" you said and looked at them, "If you guys aren't getting any action, you might as well watch others"

"Ha-ha very funny" one of them snapped, but against their frustrated reaction, the others laughed out loud. Eddie did too. 

"Come on, you two!" Nancy giggled, "Stop wasting time, others want to play too"

"Fine, fine" you sighed and looked back up at Eddie, "Come on"

He waited for you to get into position, on your knees with your ass against the wall and your back arched as you looked up at him. He didn't have to tell you to do it - you opened your mouth on your own, and leaned into his hold when he grabbed your chin to keep you in place.

"Bottoms up" Eddie cheered and brought the bottle up to your lips. 

The picture was perfect and it had everyone holering in no time. You knew what it all looked like and for some weird and unknown reason, it didn't bother you one bit. The bottom of the bottle was pressed against Eddie’s crotch as beer flowed out of it and into your open and eager mouth.

It was coming down too fast and too much at once, and despite swallowing as much as you could, beer still escaped down your chin, over Eddie's hand and onto your knees and the carpet. But he wasn't slowing down, wasn't tilting the bottle so that less flowed out, he just let you struggle and, judging by the look on his face, enjoyed every second of it.

By the time the bottle was half empty, you were already finding it hard to keep going. Your hands closed in on their hold against Eddie’s thighs, your nails sinking into his jeans and then into his flesh, as you looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed in a silent plea for him to slow down. 

But he knew better than to do that. So instead of letting you take a break, he tightened his hold against your jaw and pushed you back, tilting your head even further. The bottle at this point was almost completely upside down, the beer overflowing your mouth.

Panic set in, until you realized it was all in your favor. The alcohol was coming down so fast that it was physically impossible to keep up, making almost all of it spill onto the floor. 

No one really cared about that detail, they were all in awe of what you just did, screaming and howling all kinds of dumb and immature phrases of praise as soon as you were done.

Once the last drop of beer rolled onto the floor, Eddie threw the bottle aside and grabbed both your hands to help you up.

"Quite impressive, Y/n" Jason chuckled with a disgusting tone in his voice as Eddie wipped the dust off your knees. "I must say, it does look like you know what you are doing. Got experience, beautiful? I doubt this was you first time drinking straight from the-"

You barely got a chance to register his words before Eddie turned around and lounged at Jason. Thankfully, he didn't go for a hit, didn't want to ruin the night by sending someone to the hospital, but instead, slammed him hard against the wall, and pulled out his famous pocket knife.

Steve and Jonathan jumped up instantly too, stopping Jason's friends from interfering as you rushed over to Eddie.

"Jesus, Eddie, it's ok! Let him go!"

But he didn't listen, and continued to face Jason. "If the next words that come of your mouth aren't an honest fucking apology, I'll slam your face into the toilet and shove this knife up your ass"

"Eddie!!"

Jason, probably in need of a new pair of underwear, shook his head and struggled to keep the tears from rolling down his face as he muttered out his words. "Listen, man. I'm sorry, I-"

"Not to me, you idiot!" Eddie scoffed and slammed Jason into the wall again. "You're gonna apologize to Y/n."

After choking back a sob, he looked in your direction. "Y/n, I'm sorry, I- I didn't mean, it was stupid, ok? I thought it would be funny, I didn't think- I'm sorry, ok? I really am, I won't- I won't say shit like that again, ok? Can you- can you like... forgive me? Please?"

"Yes.." you said softly and got ready to peel Eddie off of him. "It's ok, thanks for apologizing"

Reluctantly, Eddie let him go and wrapped an arm around you as Jason and his two friends furiously gathered their stuff and rushed out of the basement. 

"Yeah, I'm sorry about all of this" you mumbled as soon as you realized the room was left completely silent. 

"No one liked them anyway" Steve laughed and the others all agreed. Somehow, the mood wasn't ruined, and before you even got a chance to sit down, other dares were already being thrown around.

"Hey, you OK?" Eddie asked, softly enough only so that you'd hear.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. You didn't have to scar him for life, but thanks"

"I'll admit, I may have crossed the line a bit, but this way, at least we know he won't get any ideas to say shit like that to you again"

"Thanks" you said and shook your head, giggling softly, "I was gonna hug you but my shirt is all wet"

"Here" Eddie said.

He took his leather jacket off, along with his vest, and then pulled his shirt over his head before you even managed to get a word in. "Go get changed and put this on" he said handing you the Hellfire shirt, "It's my fault yours is all soaked"

[izvmimi]

nanami returns from an evening jog to find you lounged on the couch, a bag of chips nearly decimated in front of you, crumbs the only survivors. you have never looked so much like a sloth, your hair in clear disarray and pajamas wrinkled as though it isn’t nearly 5pm.

“have you been there all day?” he asks. there is less condescension in your voice and more curious concern.

you try to sit up to look at him but raise your arms up instead making grabbing hands in his direction. he glances at you, then shakes his head and walks past into the hallway, but then you can see him reemerge in backwards steps back into your view from the living room.

your arms are up still and while he rolls his eyes, he pulls you up to sitting. The chip bag crumples in his hand as he cleans up your mess, and he’s looking at your lips for your curse since you haven't spoken yet, but gets a cheeky grin instead.

“i’m off today, you know?”

nanami moves the coffee table pulled closer to the couch to be within your reach back into its original position.

“it’s not like i haven’t seen you just laying around when you are working.”

you cross your legs and frown.

“only on night call!” you protest. he’s walking away now, but your apartment is small and you can still see him through the window of the kitchen, throwing away your mess.

“aren’t you the one who says man isn’t designed to labor forever?” you say, louder.

“that doesn’t mean you can just make messes!” he yells back. “did you eat real food today even?”

you pause to think.

did you eat anything other than those chips? when he comes out and sees you genuinely pondering, his frown deepens.

“you need to take care of yourself,” he says. his voice is stern but his volume is low so it’s somewhere between a grumble and a gentle demand. you look at him, then rise suddenly, pressing your hands on his distinctively sallow cheeks before he can pull away.

“are you really going to press me about eating with no meat on those cheeks?”

he grips your wrists gently pulling them off so you can’t feel the sudden burn in his skin.

“you know damn well i’m not skinny.”

you twist your mouth to the side, and then your brain drifts very briefly to the last time you’ve accidentally seen him naked and it’s time for your face to burn.

quickly you change the subject. he’s digging through the fridge now and you catch him off guard with a bottle of water in his hand. he drinks, and you find something else to focus on aside from the curve of his forearm and the way his neck looks extended back, eyes still focused on you. he doesn’t sweat a ton, but a drop of water misses and mimics dripping sweat and you wish he’d hurry up and fall in love with someone so you can focus your thinking on code and curses.

and only that.

“do you want to order food tonight then?” you ask. “so i get some real food?”

“satoru invited us out actually,” kento says.

you tilt your head.

“what do you mean ‘us’?”

nanami smiles. “i don’t want to third wheel and ___ wants you there.”

“so what am i doing? fourth wheeling?”

kento looks at you for a long moment and then sighs loudly before walking around you.

“what?”

you watch his form get smaller as he retreats to his room to ready himself for a shower.

“a normal person would have said double date,” is what you can faintly hear him grumble. you pretend you can't hear it but your cheeks warm on your way back to your bedroom.

[watermelonsugacry]

You know this thing that Taylor does where she sings a surprise song at every show? but in this case it's her own song, what if yn did the same thing but with songs by other artists

Just A Girl

A/N: this is honestly just a 1d!YN appreciation post

SINCE 2010 masterlist

It’s officially her thing to sing a new cover song for each of her shows! 

Sometimes it's a One Direction song, an unreleased song, or just a song from an artist she liked. 

Every one of her old band mates’ has an unofficial claim to a cover they do/did on their solo tours: Harry’s is The Chain, Louis’s is 505...

But if there was one cover that’s her cover, it’s “Just A Girl” by No Doubt.

To introduce the song, she’d make a little joke about reminding the audience that even though she’s dancing and prancing around the stage, that doesn’t give them an excuse to look at her chest as she does so. She’d even pinch the top of her corset top—an outfit to pay homage to the cover art of her third album—and tug it up with a cheeky shake of her chest...all before openly pushing up her breasts from underneath. 

She’d wink at a fan in the crowd before letting out an innocent, “What?” at the fans’ excited response. She’d put a satin gloved hand over her chest, pushing a shoulder to touch her ear and shyly say, “m’just a girl after all.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, a smirk spreads across her lips when the sold-out stadium of fans go into a frantic frenzy when they hear the iconic beginning guitar of the song. She makes a slow spin on her heel to walk to her band behind her, looking off to the side where her husband stands with a proud smile in the wings.

This song perfectly encapsulates YN’s upbringing in the music industry: her frustration of being treated lower than her co-workers, band mates—any male just because she’s of the opposite sex. 

In a way, it's her Kiwi: a song she can complete and utterly go crazy with. It’s Harry’s turn to sit back and admire the way his spouse can draw in an audience with her stage presence and charisma. 

'Cause I'm just a girl, oh, little old me

Well, don't let me out of your sight

Oh, I'm just a girl, all pretty and petite

So don't let me have any rights

For a long time, she’d listen to this song and view it as a cry for help, a way to express herself in the best way she knows how—through music.

This is one of the few songs that YN likes to bring back a couple of times as her surprise cover song—it even showed up once or twice at her last world tour. With that being said, a couple thousand fans were lucky enough to say that they were a part of the few shows where she performed it. 

And on the opposite end, it’s her favorite cover to sing. Especially since she likes to get a bit theatrical with it. 

They love to see after she finishes the line, “Oh, I've had it up to here...” YN cheekily bends over, a flattened hand comes up to her forehead to mimic the way someone would physically show their annoyance level. She bites down on her lower lip, bobbing her head to the beat of the music as she walks backwards across the stage. 

Or when she dramatically bats her lashes or cheekily drops her jaw in faux offense. Or as she jumps about the stage, hyping up the sea of fans with her stage presence. 

She’d be at the end of the massive heart-shaped catwalk, clasping her hands together in front of her after bouncing around the stage, slyly singing, “I'm just a girl.” She twists the tip of her heel into the stage as she pouts. “I'm just a girl in the world. That's all that you'll let me be!” 

And the crowd lives for when she feverishly pumps her arms in front of her, dropping down to her knees as she sings, “What I’ve succumbed to is making me numb!” Her mane of curly hair bounces back and forth, following her movements. 

The audience is split between standing as still as they can to record the iconic performance while others join YN by jumping up and down, dancing crazily, and being completely enveloped in the moment. 

YN mentioned in an interview once how much she feeds off the energy her fans bring to the shows. Similarly to her husband’s tour, the audiences have created a safe space for her to be herself on stage. There’s no sense of judgment and everyone can enjoy themselves freely—whether that be dancing like nobody's watching, standing there with their eyes closed to feel the music, or following the dress decorum of wearing corsets and long opera gloves, everyone is welcomed with open arms.

By the end of it all, she’s a bit out of breath and her hairline glistens with sweat. She stands at the end of her catwalk and looks out to the sea of fans, raised hands and lights. 

In a moment of overwhelming gratitude, she tugs off her in-ears and takes a moment to fully hear thousands chant her name in unison. She huffs out a knee-buckling smile and it only makes the fans scream louder. 

YN had mentioned to Harry a few times already about how the feeling of appreciation and love for her fans can get a bit overwhelming. Sometimes it hits her like a bus—strong, impactful, and head-on. If she could, she would hug each and everyone of her fans. She would take the time to tell every person individually how much they mean to her.

Even in the midst of the deafening sound, she lets out a chuckle when she can hear the loud whistle piercing its way from the wings. 

Never in a million years would she ever think that she’d be here, standing on stage, performing at sold out stadiums almost every night, doing what she loves. 

With that, she blinks away the on-coming watery eyes and puts her in-ears back in. 

“Alright, London. Let’s continue this dance party,” she’d say before the familiar beats on Nonsense sounds through the stadium. 

Yeah, she’s definitely meant to be here. 

[swaps55]

In response to the question, "How does your character deal with an itch found in a place they can’t quite reach?" from The Big Place discord server.

~

“Boss, what the hell are you doing?”

Shepard looks up halfway through an awkward squat against the front rail of the treadmill, face contorted in a grimace that Kara has to stuff a fist in her mouth to keep from laughing at.

“Itch,” he replies, grimacing even harder and twisting his spine to get a different angle.

“So you’re trying to scratch it with a smooth pole.”

“I can’t reach it,” he grumps.

She tilts her head, tapping a finger on her chin. “What if we stuck one of those scrubby things they use to clean the converter thingamajig? You know, the thing with the spiky bits that are pokey but not too pokey?”

“You’re an engineer, right? You know what the thingamajig is, right?”

“I’m an explosives engineer.” She mimics an explosion with her fingers.

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“Do you want me to get the scrubby thing or not?”

“Yes, get the scrubby thing. I’m dying.”

Ten minutes later she’s retaping the scrubby thing to the pole, using a stronger adhesive this time so it doesn’t fall off the moment he starts going to town on it, when Alenko walks in, towel thrown over his shoulder. He come to an abrupt halt at sight of the two of them crouched in front of the treadmill.

“Put it up a little higher.”

“What, can’t squat that low?”

“Of course I can squat that low, doesn’t mean I want to.”

“I thought pain let you know you weren’t dead yet.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Alenko asks.

“He has an itch,” Kara replies.

Alenko stares at Kara. Stares at Shepard. Then exhales wearily and holds out a hand to pull Shepard to his feet. Without a word, he whirls him around and starts raking his fingernails up and down Shepard’s spine.

“Fuck,” Shepard sighs, shoulders slumping in relief. He wiggles his back around to move Alenko’s fingers to the right spot, groaning like something out of a porno.

When the itch is finally sated, Alenko resumes his course towards the training mat and starts his  warm ups. Both Shepard and Kara watch him, pensively.

“Why didn’t we think of that?” Kara asks.

“I mean, a custom back scratcher is still a good idea.”

“Right? Oooooooh. Hang on. I have an idea.”

“You thinking Stabby?”

“Definitely. I’ll go get ‘im.”   

[grampsoninspace]

doctor’s orders.

Please, don’t let it be him.

Please no…

Please!

“Good evening,” a warm voice interrupts your silent pleading with whatever force is listening. There’s strain in the usual honeyed tone, which jerks your chin upward with an invisible string. Your panicked thoughts are replaced by your emergency mode, your hands trembling with adrenaline at the pain in the man’s voice.

“What did you do now?” you hiss, assessing the patient visually before you even get close to him, watching blood drip steadily from a wound just shy of his temple.

Captain Howzer smiles up at you with mischief in his brown eyes.

“I got a little too close to the action, Doc,” he shrugs.

“How many times do I have to tell you? The blood belongs inside of your body, Captain. For Maker’s sake, can we go a single week without you risking life and limb for the nearest being?” You pull your gloves on with an angry snap.

“Well… it is my job,” he tells you, trying to sound the slightest bit remorseful and failing miserably.

“I don’t care if it’s your job — it’s going to be a little hard to do it if you’re dead,” you shake your head, starting to remove his armor to assess the rest of him.

“You’re fussing again,” Howzer’s voice drops in octave and volume, much too near your ear.

“Well, that is my job,” you mimic his accent poorly, daring to look back into his eyes as you remove his chest plate.

His full lips are twisted in the faintest smile, and he is watching your every move. You roll your eyes but you can feel yourself blush, choosing instead to focus on removing his pauldrons, gauntlets, and gloves.

“I know... I like it when you fuss over me,” he leans forward and yanks the top of his blacks off with one hand, exposing his skin down to his waist.

You turn back to face him and remind yourself with a deep breath and a mental lashing that you are a fucking professional and you will do your job without incident or…

Or…?

What were you saying?

“Well?” he prompts.

“Hm?” you raise your eyebrows, pretending you were listening.

He leans back with his palms flat on the exam table, his knees farther apart than you remember. “I asked you a question.”

“Which was?” you ask, frowning, silently cursing yourself.

“I asked what your diagnosis was,” he smirks.

“I don’t know yet,” you rub your forehead with the back of your hand. “I need to get your head cleaned up first. Do you feel pain or discomfort anywhere else?”

“No pain…” His smile is teasing. “But I still expect a thorough examination. I could be in shock.”

You give him a look. “Behave yourself, Captain.”

Howzer holds his hands up. “I’m just asking you to do your job, Doc. I wouldn’t expect any less but the closest attention to detail when you’re in charge.”

You swallow, and he won’t look away from your eyes — even as you start to gently clean the wound on his forehead and he sucks in a breath through his teeth, grabbing your wrist roughly and trying to pull your hand away.

Your stomach flips but you give him a stern look.

“Captain. When I said to behave yourself, I clearly meant you need to allow me to do my job.”

“Warn me next time,” he growls, releasing you.

“I did!” You smack his hand down. “I told you I had to clean your head…”

“Oh, that’s what you meant,” he smirks up at you as you continue removing the blood from his skin. You press harder in retaliation and he grabs both of your wrists.

“Stop being belligerent or I’ll let you fuckin’ bleed to death,” you tell him through gritted teeth.

“Which one happens first?” he asks, your wrists still bound in the shackles of his rough hands.

“What—?” you ask, scrunching up your face.

“You said you’d let me fuck and bleed to death,” he repeats, pulling you forward and tugging your hands behind his back so your face is much too close to his.

“Do you think it could be in that order?” he drops his voice down deep and low, his breath warm on your skin.

“You know damn well I did not say that,” you tell him, trying to sound sure of yourself, but your voice shakes.

“Do I?” he asks, searching your face with his dilated eyes.

“Should I check your hearing?” you ask sharply, but his gaze lands on your lips.

“What?�� he jokes, and you sigh in his face.

“Captain.”

His eyes flick to yours, and he leans back just enough to let your hips rest in the V his legs have made. “Say my name, and I’ll be good for you.”

“This is very unprofessional behavior,” you frown.

“I’m no snitch,” he whispers. “Besides, is it against protocol for you to use your patient’s name?”

“Of course not,” you sigh again. “But I’m using your title as a sign of respect, just as I would do with anyone else.”

“And I love that about you, but I wanna hear you say my name,” he grips your wrists harder, gives you a little yank, and you arch into him involuntarily.

“Captain Howzer…” you say, trying to keep your tone even and clinical.

“Close,” he smiles but shakes his head. “But no. Just say my name, and I’ll behave.”

You take a deep breath, knowing he’s absolutely full of shit without running a single test to prove it.

“Howzer…” you say in a low voice, your temple pressed against his. He hums low in his throat, and the vibration of it in his chest seems to travel wherever your body is touching his.

You let your lips brush his ear: “Can you please allow me to finish my exam now?”

“Yes ma’am,” he rumbles, letting go of your wrists and planting his hands on the edge of the table again.

His eyes are closed and he keeps very still as you clean his head wound, patching it with bacta and exploring the rest of the lines in his face, running your fingers over the deep scar on his cheek.

“Field medic work,” he smiles, leaning into your touch. “Didn’t have your finesse.”

“Doesn’t change anything,” you blurt out quietly.

His eyes slide open and they are darker than a starless night. “Hm?”

“You know,” you frown, pushing his face to the side to check his neck and shoulders with careful hands.

“What do I know?” he asks, his cheek twitching with how badly he’s trying not to smirk. “What doesn’t the field medic’s work change?”

You sigh roughly in the back of your throat as you move around the table to check his back. “Your… face.”

“Oh, because every clone has the same one?” he asks, a defensive lilt to his teasing.

“No!” you poke him in the shoulder blade, hard.

“Then what?” he twists, to try to make you look at him again, but you push him forward.

“What did you promise me?” you frown. “Be still, Howzer.”

He inhales deeply and sits up with perfectly straight posture. You run your hands down his spine, then press your fingers where you know injured organs would reveal tender spots. He doesn’t flinch, but you don’t know if that’s his training or an actual lack of pain. Nothing seems out of place, but knowing him, he’s probably hiding something.

“Get up,” you pat his shoulder.

He obeys, standing perfectly at attention.

And as you help him remove his lower armor, it’s very apparent that he’s not the only one.

You instantly blush, despite having seen countless human bodies in all different contexts… your whole body flushes with warmth which travels between your legs. You’re removing his knee pads and the feelings you’re having are so improper you feel yourself blushing harder with shame…

“Sorry Doc,” he says quietly. “Natural reaction.”

“To what?” you blurt out, looking up from your kneeling position into his face.

He smirks. “I think we both know you know the answer to that… You’re a doctor. You know how the human body functions in these situations…”

You shake your head. “I’m making sure you’re not going to die of internal injuries, Howzer. I’m not doing anything to try and…cause this.”

“Don’t have to,” he says, low and rough. “You just are.”

Your fingers are still on his thigh, just about to get him to lift his foot to let you remove his boot, when you stop and feel your jaw go slack.

“Please stand up,” he asks. You oblige him, and he sits back up on the exam table, obediently removing his boots for you without breaking eye contact once. You swallow around your dry throat, taking in the sight of him there in nothing but the bottom half of his blacks, which he’s now standing again to remove.

Howzer sits back up on the exam table in just his dark briefs, which — despite their color — are not doing much to hide the topic of your discussion.

Why do I want it in my mouth?

Your eyes are wide when you meet his gaze again, thankful beyond belief that he can’t read your mind. But he smiles softly like he can.

Why is that a thought I’m having right now, when I should be making sure he isn’t in any more pain?

You try to snap out of it, distracting yourself by looking fo contusions or abrasions, any signs of internal injuries or dislocated bones… You put your gloved hand on his thigh to inspect a discoloration there and his body reacts visibly to your touch.

“Howzer…” you whisper, “Should I stop?”

“Please don’t,” he breathes, reaching out to grip the wrist closest to his bare skin.

“I… I need you to stand up and turn around,” you tell him quietly, and he does as he’s told, letting you peruse the backs of his legs and the bottoms of his feet.

When he turns around again, he’s mere inches from your body, his muscles taut and his face hyper-focused on yours.

“I don’t see any other… problems,” you swallow, your voice barely audible. “You’re free to dress and go now.”

“But I don’t want to,” he shrugs, lifting his hands to cradle your face.

He doesn’t kiss you.

He brushes his nose against yours, touches your foreheads together, rubs his cheekbone up and down your cheek.

You can feel the rough texture of the skin on his face and let a soft sound escape your careful throat.

Howzer locks onto that sound like a heat-seeking missile, pressing his hand gently to your throat and repeating the motion he thinks you liked — his cheek pressed to yours.

You whimper lightly, just barely audible, and he loses his careful control to what he wants most.

He kisses you so hard it snaps your head back; you gasp into his mouth and he takes that as an invitation, exploring inside with his tongue. He only breaks the seal your lips have made to let you breathe, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your jaw and down your neck, hungrily making his way down to taste as much of your skin as he can reach.

His hands move from your face and neck to unbutton your uniform coat, pushing it down off your shoulders onto the floor, sliding his long fingers under the shirt you wear beneath.

“I want this off,” he tells you, and you nod your permission, lifting your arms to let him strip you from the waist up.

He removes your bra so quickly and easily it gives you the slightest moment of hesitation and doubt, wondering how many women he’s collected inside the warmth of his body just like this. But his hands are holding your breasts and his tongue is in your mouth again, and you quickly forget your fears. His fingers travel down to the waistband of your pants, and you don’t think you’ve ever taken them off so quickly in your entire lifetime.

“Fuck,” he whispers, looking at you in nothing but your underwear. “You’re perfect.”

“Prove it,” you tease him. “You get naked first.”

He smiles at you with bright eyes, yanking his underwear down and hopping up to lie back on the exam table with his arms behind his head, all too comfortable.

“What’s the verdict, Doc?” he asks, eyes closed, body stretched out for your (scientific) inspection.

You remove your gloves and run your fingertips from his broad shoulders to his hip bones, watching his dick twitch at the attention of your hands.

“I think you’re perfectly…healthy, Captain,” you tell him, your eyes landing on the glorious thickness he’s been hiding in those briefs.

Howzer props himself up on one elbow, turning just enough to ripple more muscles like a statue carved of some ancient god from another galaxy.

“Your turn,” he drawls, gesturing with his finger toward your underwear, and you shake your head.

“Oh now that’s just not fair,” he crows, climbing back down off the exam table and putting his hands on your hips, changing tactics.

“Do you want me to take them off for you?” he gives you a half-smile, his eyes blazing a path from your bare breasts to the fabric between him and his goal.

You nod slowly, pushing your hips just slightly forward as he dips his thumbs in the band around your waist.

“I need to hear you say it,” he says quietly.

“Please take them off,” you try to whisper, but it comes out like a whine. He looks into your eyes expectantly, wiggling his thumbs but not moving his hands any more than that.

“Howzer…” you groan. “Please.”

“That’s better,” he pushes your underwear to the floor and runs his hands back up your legs as you step out. “Isn’t it?”

He kisses you again, softer this time but no less hungry, pulling you back with him onto the exam table. He wraps his arms around you until you’re flush on top of him, nipping at your lips and running his hands all over your body, seeking friction by pressing his hips up into yours…

“Would you like to ride me, sweetheart?” he rasps, his erection pressed against your hip, his heart pounding in his chest against yours. “Because I’d like nothing more than to see you get on top and use me however you want.”

You know your face must look like you’re in pain, the need for him so strong it feels like your heart could stop. You move your knees apart and brace yourself, letting him help you to a more upright position, crawling back until you’re hovering right above him.

You look into his eyes as you guide him to your entrance, inhaling shakily as you feel the tip slide past your resistance, shoving your knees farther apart and dropping slowly to take him deeper. His eyes practically roll back in his head the farther down you go, groaning low in his throat when he’s fully sheathed inside of you.

The two of you stay very still for a long moment, just breathing while you both adjust. When you start to move on him, he looks up at you heavy-lidded and reaches up to grope your breasts, moaning a bit as you sink your fingernails into his shoulders trying to find a rhythm you both like. You roll your hips and grip him good as you do, filthy curses escaping his swollen lips with every thrust.

Howzer lifts his knees slightly to support you, gripping your hips tight as you ride him hard, forgetting every reason you shouldn’t be doing this as you lose yourself to the feeling of him inside of you as his hands explore your ass.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to fuck you like this?” he asks roughly, one hand gripping your ass, the other running up your back to grab a fistful of your hair. You shake your head, unable to form cohesive thoughts as you move on him faster, your need for him only increasing the harder you fuck him.

He sits up suddenly, spreading his legs and bending his knees, wrapping his arms around your lower back and staring right in your eyes as he fucks you right back.

You run your hands through his hair, rubbing the fuzz where his head is shaved and crying out as he hits the perfect spot while holding you this close.

“Since day one,” he rasps. “I’ve wanted you like this since I first met you. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about taking you right here, just like this…”

He grunts as you clench around him, wetter than ever and panting his name, blissfully close to him making you cum in his lap right on your fucking exam table.

“Fuck me, Howzer,” you beg him, all sense of propriety lost in the lustful haze clouding your brain and flooding your body with heat. “Please just fuck me.”

“No, baby,” he denies you. “I want this to last.”

“But I’m so close,” you whine, pushing him down on his back and riding him harder.

He moves his hand from your hip to press his fingertips to your clit, not bothering to move them with how quickly your hips are rocking, and your head rolls loosely on your neck as your back arches. You bite your lip to keep from screaming as he drags the orgasm right out of you with his lazy fingers and his ridiculously perfect cock.

“Howzer, I can’t, I’m gonna…” you whine, and he pulls himself up again, locking eyes with you as he feels you hit your threshold, a strangled moan slipping out of you as he keeps you close while you cum.

“Come on, baby,” he coaxes as you start to slow your movements to a near-stop, “Are we done already?”

“Sit up,” you tell him, climbing off of him and the table, kneeling and watching him swing his legs over the side.

“Am I already due for another exam—” he chokes on his teasing remark as you take his leaking dick into the tight wetness of your mouth, rolling your tongue underneath him and hollowing your cheeks.

“Fucking Maker,” Howzer groans, his hands instantly tangling in your hair, hips bucking toward your face. “You keep that up and I’m not going to last much longer either.”

Your only reply is to bob your head, taking him deeper toward your throat with each motion, using your hands to grip what can’t fit inside your mouth.

“Oh sweet fuck,” he growls, turning into an absolute mess as you stare up into his eyes while you suck him off. He doesn’t know where to put his hands and he’s trying so hard to let you do what you want, but you can feel him throbbing and you know he’s ready to lose it.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know where you want me to cum, but you’d better decide fast,” he rasps, his eyes squeezing shut.

You keep him in your mouth, but pull back just enough to swirl your tongue around his already-sensitive tip. He groans and shoves his dick deeper in your mouth, yanking your head back by the hair as he loses control. He cums down your throat with a series of grunts and moans your name when he’s finally finished. You swallow every drop, content to lick him lazily until he groans and tugs on your hair to make you stop, guiding your face back up to his.

“You’re mine now, I hope you know,” he growls in your ear, his scarred cheek pressed to yours as he does.

You nod in agreement, feeling his fingers slip between your legs again as he kisses you gently at first…

But you make sure to call him “Captain” when he makes you cum the second time, with nothing but his tongue.

[liillyliilly]

sing for me, please?

sugawara koushi x reader

words; 1215

content; sugawara has a small clever surprise- it's just fluff and kicks and giggles

“Did I really need to get here so early?” You slid into the seat next to Sugawara in the auditorium. The lights still hadn’t turned on, so it was mostly dark except for the glow of Sugawara’s flashlight.

“Yes. Absolutely yes you needed to be here early.” Sugawara was reclining low into the chair, practically sunk into the chair. He rapidly pats your knee for a moment before shushing you, despite you not even saying anything. His uniform is slightly crinkled.

The sun hadn’t even come up yet, so the windows showed only black night sky outside. School didn’t start for another hour or so, and yet Sugawara had requested you to come early. Of course you had asked what the reasoning was for his ask, but he didn’t give a response and just repeatedly asked you to come.

You roll your eyes, pulling out your book from your backpack. Sugawara rolls his eyes at your action, using his pointer finger to tilt your book away from your face.

“Just wait. Have patience, geez. I thought people who read a lot were supposed to be down for the long game.” Sugawara brings his face to your ear, trying to keep the volume of his voice down for whatever reason.

Through clenched teeth you clarified, “I do have patience,” You pull your book to your chest.

Sugawara mimics your words, faking a much higher pitch than your actual voice was at. You shoved him in the shoulder, then settled for just keeping your arm behind his seat. His silver shaded hair tickled your forearm, so you adjusted your arm positioning. You ran your fingers through the medium length hair at his neck, letting the soft locks twist around your fingers.

Sugawara ducked his head down even further so you wouldn’t be able to see the pink of his cheeks and nose.

The lights of the auditorium flickered on, and Sugawara sank even lower into his chair, using his hand to tug you down as well. Your heads wouldn’t have been visible from the back, hiding behind the red velvet seats. Sugawara hit his flashlight against his palm, turning the light off.

“What’s going on Koushi?”

“Mic check for the assembly later today.” He giggles.

The assembly for the third years, you recalled. It was going to essentially be a one hour long speech by the principal, then some other teachers would talk (you were excited for what Sensei Takeda had planned, since he spoiled the surprise that he’d be talking today). But all in all, the assembly was to congratulate the third year students for working hard on their exam season.

Once the praise for exams was over, they would award students with plaques for high scorers and for various other things. Best athletes, best overall academics, best writing, Principal’s choice award, and so on.

You didn't feel as exceptional as others, but you were secretly holding an anticipation that you’d win an award from the Literature Department as their standout student. You’d worked hard for the scholarship you won to the Prefectural University of Miyagi- your specialization and degree in Japanese Literature and Library Studies.

Sugawara knew that you’d been hoping for an award, so he did the reasonable thing, and snuck into the boxes behind the stage and checked that you won an award. He just hadn’t told you that you’d won two awards just yet, waiting until the official ceremony to cheer loudly with Daichi and Asahi and Kiyoko. (He knew that he’d cheer the loudest though.)

You shove your book back into your backpack. Sugawara pulls you up, hands over the back of the chair in front of him, so he can peek over the cusp of the seat. You copy his motions.

There was the principal, and in the back of the auditorium, a few of the students on stage crew started to fiddle with the lights and mics. Then once the principal was satisfied with his mic check, he threw his thumb up and the students went away through the exit.

You turned to Sugawara, unamused. “That was what we were waiting for?”

“No, no, shush!” He presses a finger to your lips, then smirks and holds his entire hand over your mouth instead of just his one finger.

Muffled, you say, “You better have washed your hands today.”

He nods, but turns attention back to the front stage. You do the same, only to see that the vice principal was lurking around the curtain. Sugawara takes his hand off your mouth, and under the guise of muffling his own laughs- he presses his hand to his own mouth. He figures it's the closest thing to a kiss from you that’d he’ll get for now.

The vice principal holds the mic in his hand, doing a twice around checking the entire auditorium with hawk-like eyes. Then, the unexplainable, the hilarious, the strangest thing possible occurs: he starts to sing.

“Is that…” You start, jaw practically unlatched at how you gape.

“Yes. It is in fact an Ariana Grande song.” Sugawara nuzzles his face into your shoulder to mostly silence his laughs. (He would deny any accusation that he was using it as a ruse to hold onto you. He’d absolutely deny that he loved putting his face close to your neck to smell that addicting lychee, rose, vanilla, and lily combination that he had grown to only associate with you.)

“Waking up early was definitely worth it for this Koushi.” You take your turn hiding chuckles by putting your face into Sugawara’s neck, and he takes the opportunity to place a light hand to your side.

Once the vice principal seemed satisfied with his operatic rendition of Ariana Grande’s “Problem” featuring Iggy Azalea, he vacated the auditorium. Sugawara and you just burst into loud cackles, holding onto your stomachs and letting your faces crack with smiles.

“Won’t you sing for me, please?” He teasingly grabs onto both of your hands and brings them to his chest, your hands flat against his pectorals.

“Dearest, won’t you sing for me instead? You know I’m fond of your lullaby. I just yearn every night for your falsetto interpretation of Greedy by my queen Ariana.” You press harder into his chest, trying to taunt and pester him just as much as he did to you.

Sugawara swallows thickly, but sticks his chin out a little, “We can always do a duet, love."

You giggle, pushing him away and standing up. Your watch tells you it’s around ten minutes before class is supposed to start, so people would be filtering into their classes by now.

“The duet will have to wait, let’s get to class Koushi.”

As you walk out of the auditorium, Sugawara watches you exit, letting his eyes wander to how your school skirt swishes around your legs. He holds his hand over his heart, just feeling the rapid beating under his skin.

He couldn’t wait to see the excitement on your face when you won the Literature Department award, and the Principal’s Choice Award. He always thought you looked prettiest when you had those bright eyes, that earth-shattering smile, and the sweetest tone of voice when you would inevitably turn to him and double check that it was in fact you who won.

[pretty-weird-ideas]

This was literally the most harrowing piece of television I have watched in YEARS because it's just a lynching with no strings attached. And then I watched how white fans twisted themselves into knots to make the clear lynching seem like the evidence presented is actually punishable and entirely factual with no agenda attached.

The agenda is "How can we quickly lynch Claudia and Louis and make it a spectacle?", that's it, the information presented is all there to push the coven's agenda. If propaganda helicoptered itself on your face, you people still wouldn't get it.

"What they said about Louis is actually correct. He's unreliable as a narrator and we're finally getting his comeuppance." What about a lynch mob seems like a reliable source of information?

Quickly now! What about a clear metaphor for a lynching gives you the vibe of "unbiased information told to the audience that we should take to heart"? I'm genuinely scared of some of y'all because I'm getting the vibes that if someone told you a dude "whistled at a white woman" you would just go with it. Any bad-faith gum flapping about a black person would just be believed on the spot by some of you. The benefit of the doubt for Black people is nonexistent around here.

Question: Do you not take Fox News, Infowars, and alt-right media's depiction of POC seriously because you PERSONALLY can tell that it's racist and that the information is wrong? Or did society have to TELL you that it's racist and you know there's a social consequence to believing it? Do you hear racist language about real Black figures and you can tell that the source isn't trustworthy, or does someone have to come down from their ivory tower and regurgitate basic sense to you?

I'm starting to realize that this fandom doesn't understand racist agitprop... at all. They're only against racism when someone tells them it's racist and there are consequences to believing racist propaganda. Someone has to hold their hand and tell them that calling someone an "uppity violent Jezebel that should put out more" is racist. Someone has to tell them that racists who have an incentive to lie about Black people aren't reliable sources on Black people. And that is a level of incompetence that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. Someone could literally list 30 antiblack stereotypes and someone would be like "What is wrong with calling a black person all of these at once?". People's cultural awareness is fucked.

And there's a learned incompetence as well here, a cycle. People refuse to understand that Black people are intentionally held under a harsher light and read in bad faith ways that consciously mimic stereotypes. "I only believe something is racist when others tell me that it's racist" and "I don't seek out people discussing racism so nobody is here to tell me what is racist" is a deadly fucking combo with this show.

Read literature, read about slavery, read about lynchings, read about Black Queer liberation, read about domestic violence, read about race and Monster theory. Like read SOMETHING. MY GOD.

The show is intentionally riffing off of historical and cultural subject matter, and white fans are purposefully not learning about it so that their lives aren't upended by the reality of current and past race relations and how it affects their own lives and fiction. You guys are lobotomizing yourselves so the show's basic principles aren't visible. Just because you do not understand racism or domestic violence doesn't mean that the show isn't talking about them and it's not just going over your head. Things going over the white audience's head does not mean it is not present.

Anyways... I keep saying that the people should collectively get my laptop taken away and it still hasn't happened so this post was penned. Take away my laptop or my posts will continue.

[atombombkaytee]

Glory and Gore

Summary: Upon arriving at Nuka World, Sole is a little shocked by some of the raider’s furniture. Feral Ghouls as seats!? On one particularly drunken and chem-filled evening, Hancock and Sole find themselves alone and discussing this unusual choice. Hancock sees an excellent opportunity to really wind Sole up.

Pairings: John Hancock x Sole Survivor

Warnings: Smut. Rough sex. Unprotected sex.

“It is kinda cruel, isn’t it?” I whisper, sipping from my drink. My companion glances across at the chair opposite us. A feral has been tied to the frame of the chair by his hands, feet and neck with just a thin cushion placed over his shrivelled thighs so that he takes the user’s full weight upon them sitting down. Hancock shrugs. He has a bottle of whiskey in his hand and, now and then, he takes a huge gulp.

We had arrived in Nuka World only two days ago, and, in that time, I’ve somehow managed to become the Overboss and to befriend three groups of (somewhat difficult) raiders. Tonight we’ve decided to drink with a group called The Pack. Colourful folks, with a shared passion for showmanship and wasteland creatures.

“I mean, don’t you ever wonder if they still have any remnants of their human personalities?”

We’ve managed to escape the ruckus by means of a small shack where we are finally alone (except for the feral ghoul furniture). The light in here derives from a single light bulb attached to the steel roof, it’s dim and it flickers constantly. I feel drunk - the alcohol is different here, stronger. Hancock seems half-cut too; lolling in his seat with one of his legs draped over the arm of the chair and the whiskey bottle in his hand hanging so low that it almost touches the floorboards. We’ve been drinking for at least an hour, but Hancock has been taking his regular chems since this morning - he increased his usage once the celebrations started.

“Better him than me.” He chuckles, finishing off his bottle and immediately twisting the cap off another from the table beside him. Hancock has been a ghoul for less than a decade. Sometime in 2282, his love for getting high had gotten out of hand when he tried an experimental radioactive chem. To this day, he still says the high was worth it. It’s perfectly understandable. With the world like it is today, it's irresponsible to deny yourself any form of distraction that you can get your hands on.

He flicks the bottlecap over towards the feral and it smacks him just above the eye. The creature growls and struggles in his bound position, managing to shuffle the chair forward just a few inches. I can’t help but laugh a little. My mind is hazy from alcohol and mentats, and seeing a chair move is a pretty surreal event.

“Oh, you find that funny do you?” Hancock teases, leaning forward in his seat to catch my eye, “but, what about his feelings?” He mimics my voice, flashing a brazen smile at me before taking another gulp of Whiskey.

I lean over to jokingly hit him, but he curls his free hand around my wrist before I can reach him. I feel myself being gently tugged towards him until I’m on my knees at the foot of his armchair. He looks down at me with a smile twisting on his lips.

“Am I going to have to report you to the Ghoul Protection Society for unfair treatment?” His hand slides under my chin to hold my head in place. I grin up at him, swaying slightly from the alcohol in my system. He leans down to gently kiss me. His mouth feels rough and familiar, I close my eyes and take in his scent as he lingers on my lips, his grip still firm around my jaw.

He stands the whiskey bottle on the side table and unzips his slacks. I feel warmth travel from my groin up to my throat as I shuffle forward to admire his erection. It springs up from within his pants, pink and glistening. The skin is uneven like on the rest of his body, otherwise, he’s endowed just like anyone else.

“Be a good little soft skin, make up for your crimes against my race.” He groans, throwing his head against the cushioned back of the chair, awaiting my mouth. I happily oblige, lapping up his pre-cum with the flat of my tongue, a moan hums from the back of my throat as I taste him. Sweet and salty, ghoul cum tastes better than any human I’ve had. It must be the radiation.

Unable to hold back, I swallow his whole cock, lowering my head down until my bottom lip is brushing against the material of his slacks. I hold myself there for a moment, skilfully adjusting my position until I feel his cock glide perfectly into my throat. Drool streams from my lower lip, covering his pants and settling in a puddle on the leather chair beneath him. I begin to feel my eyes well up as I cough around him, struggling for breath. Pressure on the back of my head holds me in position and the tears begin to roll down my cheeks, black with mascara. I open my jaw wider, desperately attempting for air from around his thick cock, until he finally removes his hand.

I gasp for air, and then my mouth is back on him within seconds. Drenched with thick saliva, my lips now slip up and down his length expertly. I settle on his head, now and then, to circle my tongue around it. He pulsates with pleasure inside my mouth as I explore every groove on his cock. I taste more saltiness in the back of my throat, the arousal leaking from him only makes me want to satisfy him more. My wetness begins to soak into the cotton of my underwear. I can’t help but shuffle while I work on him, trying in vain to reach some kind of release.

I hear a loud thud, the whiskey bottle slips from his grip and begins spilling out its contents on to the floorboards. He bucks his hips, enjoying my hot mouth around his prick. I let him use me as he pleases. My eyes flick up to his; black eyes watching me as he fucks my throat until I’m spluttering again. My body heaving, I run the flat of my tongue up his length playfully. Plum-coloured veins pump blood to his erection, I watch with glossy eyes as it visibly throbs beneath me.

My hand sneaks under his shirt to feel his calloused skin and he takes the opportunity to lift me on to his lap. Still fully clothed, I frantically try to remove my jeans while he slips my shirt back over my shoulder and unclips my bra. My bare chest is just inches away from his face, glistening with sweat and quivering. He admires my breasts, breathing in my the scent of damp skin like it’s a drug to him. His tongue circles around my breast before ultimately taking my nipple between his lips, while I finally manage to kick my panties off from my ankles. I cry out, suddenly realising my own level of arousal. The frigid night air stings against my bare cunt. Silvery strands leak out from my folds, coating his hard manhood like the glaze on a doughnut.

“Please, I need you inside me...” I whimper. He manoeuvres his cock so that the tip is pressed against my slit. I can still feel him pulsating, cold in comparison to the heat deep within me. I hover obediently, chewing intently at my lip.

“Please...” I repeat, meeting my gaze with his. I’m almost in tears, I ache for him.

I jolt forward; clashing my mouth against his, sloppily exploring his mouth with my tongue. At the same time, he thrusts inside me aggressively. My mind melts away to nothing, only pleasure. He fills me perfectly, every ridge on his cock stimulating me as he slides in and out. I can’t breathe. I gasp and heave against his shoulder, letting him take complete control as he bucks his hips into me over and over again. My lip, swollen from my chewing, feels heavy as it bounces along with his strokes.

The heat building in my torso is so intense, the thought crosses my mind that I may throw up. It comes out as a scream. His cock feels like it’s in my belly, my clit brushes against his shirt. Before I know it, my whole body begins to vibrate, and my cunt contracts sending shockwaves arojnd his cock. The intensity of my orgasm sends everything into overdrive, I feel every strand of hair on my body fill up with electricity, my pussy convulses, my pulse thuds dully inside my skull. The evidence of my orgasm runs down over his thick cock, coating his balls.

Feeling me cum around him flicks a switch inside his brain. Despite my orgasming body now being slumped against him like a ragdoll, he fucks me even more furiously. The room around me becomes a blur; his unrelenting strokes send me dizzy in my intoxicated state. Animal-like grunts escape from his mouth, his hot ragged breath on my ear sends goosebumps littering my skin. I can feel his heart thumping through his chest.

His huge length pulses deeper inside me, hitting my cervix with force. Exhausted and desperate, he grabs fistfuls of my hips and moves me against him, until an inhuman sound escapes from deep within him. Still bucking his hips, I feel his seed spill out inside me. It fills my belly with warmth like a shot of brandy on a freezing cold night. His whole body twitches to an abrupt halt and, suddenly, all I can hear is the sound of our wearied breathing.

I knock back his hat slightly so that I can kiss his forehead, his sweat lingers on my upper lip mixing with my own. Twisting myself in the seat, I lay lengthways over him, using the arm of the chair as a headrest and dangling my legs over the other side. His body still trembles beneath me, but he kindly extends a hand to pass me my beer and brushes the sticky hair from my face. Content, I swig from the bottle and lie my head back, absently admiring the roof of the tiny shack while his hands stroke my thighs affectionately. Against my ‘soft’ skin they feel rough, but his touch is gentle and kind.

With the world like it is today, it really would be foolish to deny yourself any form of distraction that you can get your hands on. But maybe, just maybe, this could be something more.

[spicyclover]

Blow my whistle, baby

Summary: Sexy plans had to be cancelled, and other solutions always existed. 

Request

Hope you’ll enjoy this part. Let me know in the comments section! And to support me by tipping me!

Little information, I will, for now, only post on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

Thank you, and Enjoy! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

WARNING: smut +18

You were coming a little late from home that night. You had to cancel your sexy plan with Daniel, and god, you were frustrated by that. 

The thought of you makes his cock hard. He had only come home for a few minutes, and his hand was already groping his limb. His eyes close, and his hands grip tightly his hard cock as he imagines you.

Finally, the meeting was over, and you could go home. Ultimately, all you could think of was his hand and your pussy, making you cum in front of all those people. You must calm down, so bring some food on the way home. 

Forty minutes later, you finally return to your apartment, feel more satisfied, and go silently to your room. You think Daniel’s asleep; after all, considering the time he’s in, that’s perfectly normal.

His legs spread out on the bed. You have a view of his whole body. You spit more beautifully. Hearing his short breath whispering incomprehensibly with every movement of his hand makes you wet. You can’t stop your hands from wandering around your body, looking for relief.

You didn’t think when you came home to find him naked as glass, on your bed, hand on his hard sex and hair filled with sweat, proving to you that he didn’t do it once before you arrived.

You lean on the door that squeaks under your chest. Daniel quickly opens his eyes to meet yours. His gaze softens as he recognizes you, and a playful mimic illuminates his lips. He notices your hand in your panties and the other on your breast.

His hand stops his movement, and he signals you to approach.

“Like the view?” He smirks, putting a hand in his hair to clean up.

“Didn’t expect it.” You admit, going quickly beside him. “You didn’t wait for me, though.”

“I couldn't,” he breathed, feeling your hand going up and down on his shaft. “Fuck you're so good.” 

“How good,” You mumble on his neck, leaving trails of kisses. 

“Blow my whistle, baby.”

You trail down his body, soon arriving at your destination. You blow air at the top, making Daniel shiver with desire. You throw a tongue at his glans, making it spin. His head shakes backwards, and he grabs a handful of your hair. His cock twists. How he loves your tongue, how he loves your mouth, how he loves you.

You can feel his hands seeking your intimacy, but you move further from his embrace. He growls when opening his eyes, and you smile maliciously.

“Tonight, it’s about you,” You whisper, taking him fully. 

His eyes convulse backwards, feeling your mouth take him completely. His breathing is short, and you think he is near the end. Your hand caresses his thigh before reaching his ball bag. You grab and push him to the max, forcing Daniel to beg you to let him cum.

You suck, and you feel the pressure of his hand on your head intensify. His liquid escapes a little from your mouth, and it doesn’t take more for Daniel to let go in your mouth. You swallow it, and you take every little taste and enjoy it.

“You take me so well,” He finally says, returning to his senses. “I still don’t know what you do with your tongue, but it’s magic.”

You chuckle, kissing him. You get up to the bathroom, get a towel, and sip water. You love to see him so relaxed. You give him the towel and the glass of water. Watching him slowly recover. You smile gently, stroking his hair. You finally lay next to him. 

“I can’t go for another round. I’m sorry.” He mumbles, slowly falling asleep.

“It’s okay. I cooled off in the car.”

“You, dirty girl.” He kisses your temple, putting his arms around you.

“You love it.”

“Yes, I do.”

[peterman-spideyparker]

I NEED MATT MURDOCK BENCH PRESSING HIS LOVER SO MUCH PLEASE!!!

This idea is absolutely amazing and now that I’ve settled into my new job, I’ve had the time to actually write! I hope it lives up to what you wanted!

Bench Me (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Warning: Fluff, Matt being cheeky and flirty, established relationship, implied smut

“Looking good, sexy,” you hum, walking into your shared apartment. Matt is in the middle of his workout regimen. You managed to convince him to invest in some weights and other material so he wasn’t always going to Fogwell’s if he just wanted to do a light workout. Not only was it a way you were able to see Matt a little more often, but you never were opposed to the sight of him in a sleeveless tank and sweatpants, glistening from the exertion of his exercise.

“I could say the same, angel,” Matt smiles, putting down the weights and wiping his face with his towel. Moving over to him, you place your hands on his shoulders and press a sweet kiss to his lips, enjoying the stick of his skin. “I missed you today.”

“Missed you, too,” you say, kissing him again. “And my, my, what a nice treat to see first thing home.”

“I thought you were past objectifying people?” he teases.

“Hey, you do the same thing to me,” you chuckle before you begin to mimic him. “Mm, baby you smell so good today. Mm, angel, you’re so soft. My God, I’m not sure if I love your ass or your tits better.”

“Those are compliments! And I don’t sound like that!” he laughs.

“You do so!” You smile as he holds you tighter in his arms before he leans in for a kiss, making you arch your back to accommodate for the depth of the embrace. “And if you can pass those off as compliments, then think of my little remark one of the same breed.”

You feel his lips twist into a big smile against yours, the kind that make the lines by his eyes appear deep with joy. “I still love you, even if you are a bad impressionist,” he murmurs against your mouth, pecking your lips a few more times before he lets you go to resume his workout.

“Hey, Murdock. I have an idea,” you say, unable to help the smirk that curls at the corner of your mouth.

“Do you now, angel?”

“I do,” you say as you move toward him. “I want to help with your workout.”

His brows furrow in confusion. “Like you want to spot me? These aren’t really the kinds of weights for tha—.”

“No, Matty. Bench press me.”

“What?”

“Bench press me,” you repeat. “I know you for sure can pick me up, and you have those gorgeous arms of yours. Why not bench press me?”

His mouth hangs slightly, his brows raised, and you can see how his mind races. “You can think of it as extra special quality time,” you add on. “But do know whatever way you choose to lift me will definitively commit you to whether you like my ass or tits better, so choose wisely.”

“Just because it will be easier for me to lift you with a hand on your ass doesn’t mean it’s my favorite,” he counters with a sassy smirk, lightly raising his brows and cocking his head to the side.

“I knew you liked my boobs better.”

“Tie up your hair and get over here, will you?”

With a big smile, you do as he asks, feeling the tips of your ears and you cheeks grow warm with excitement. After he lies down in the proper position, he perks his head up and waves you over with a goofy, mock seductive curl of his finger. You laugh as you walk over to him, and as you turn around to get in position, you feel his hand cup your ass almost immedately. Involuntarily, you suck in a little gasp and feel a heat spread across your neck.

“Get you mind out of the gutter, angel. It’ll make it easier for the both of us,” Matt instructs as he adjusts his hands to where he needs them. “Now, relax a little, and let me get some reps in.”

You chuckle softly and do as he asks, letting your eyes close as you let him lift you up and down, over and over.

“Doing good, Matty?” you breathe as he continues to follow the rhythm he set.

“Yeah,” he grunts as he pushes you up, giving your ass a squeeze.

“How about you take a rest?”

“‘M good.”

“Matt, c’mon.”

With a sigh, he brings you to his chest and readjusts his hands, placing you on his lap.

“You okay?” he asks, sitting up.

“Very,” you assure. “You?”

“Mmm,” he hums with a smile, his eyes half closed. “I guess it’s just not how I’d prefer you going up and down over my body.”

You giggle and feel your cheeks burn hot, leaning forward to give him a soft kiss. “Dork,”you tease, kissing him once more.

“Yeah, well, I’m your dork.”

“That is true . . . And right now, you’re my sweaty dork.” Your fingers play with the hem of his sweat-soaked shirt, and the twitch of the corner of his lip and the slight quirk of his eyebrows give you all the permission you need to peel the fabric from his skin and toss it aside.

“How about you help your sweaty dork wash up?”

“It’s like you read my mind.”

[soapyghostie]

Hi!! I was wondering you could do a legion (Frank or Sally will do just fine?), ghost face, and The Knight with a killer s/o whose like that Jack Goodman guy from An American Werewolf in London or Beetlejuice,, from Beetlejuice? Obviously dead as hell but still a sarcastic and joking person while looking like torn up teddy bear. Just reacting to pieces of themselves just falling off as an inconvenience while talking about some stupid shit.

Also, Love your writing man, hope to see more of it!! Hope you have a nice day/night :)

Awwwww! Thanks Anon! I’m glad you like my writing! I hope you have a blessed day/night as well! ❤️ Here’s your request. Enjoy!

The Legion/Frank Morrison

Frank would be taken aback and stare at you in confusion as pieces of you fall off your body. He might even express concern before realizing that being dead, you're not exactly endangered. Once he comprehends the situation, Frank would chuckle and shake his head. He appreciates your dark humor and the fact that your dismembered state doesn’t seem to bother you. 

Frank loves sarcasm and teasing. He’ll engage in lots of teasing and corny jokes about your ‘shedding’ (Frank’s word for your body parts falling off). He’ll playfully ask if you're molting or suggest giving an offering of some of your pieces to the Entity for extra bloodpoints to enhance your abilities in trials.  

Frank gets used to the sight and starts making casual remarks when parts of you fall off during conversations. It becomes a normal part of your dynamic, and he finds it oddly endearing. In the midst of chases or trials, Frank will point out your ‘trail’ of fallen pieces, turning it into a morbid joke between the two of you.  

Frank will collect some of the fallen bits as ‘souvenirs,’ which is kinda gross in my opinion, to display a twisted sense of affection that he has for your torn-up teddy bear appearance. If he is in a mischievous mood, he may playfully remove a piece and run off with it with you chasing after him. It becomes a game of hide-in-seek between the two of y’all as you struggle to get the piece of your body back from Frank’s grasp: he’s pretty fast. 

Frank will come up with a lot of creative nicknames for you such as ‘scatterbrained sweetheart’ or ‘lost limbs baby” as a form of teasing, but also a form of affection. 

Frank, in a strange way, becomes protective of you, patching you up if needed or giving you words of affirmation due to your unique condition. He wants to make sure you feel loved and accepted for who you are. Despite all the teasing and jokes, Frank’s growing affection for you remains genuine, proving that even in the fog, unconventional relationships can thrive.

The Ghost Face/Danny Johnson

Danny would be startled at the sight of pieces falling off of your during y’all’s first encounter. His wide-eyed mask might express shock wherever he goes, but he immediately recognizes the absurdity of the situation. The Entity brings some really freaky shitters for killers. Sorry no offense…

Once the shock of your appearance lulls away, Danny will quickly adopt a deadpan sense of humor about your dismembered state. He’ll compare you to horror movie tropes, such as “Beetlejuice” or “An American Werewolf in London,” or crack jokes about your unraveled state. He’ll be surprised when you reciprocate his dark humor with the same dark humor, taking his jokes very well. Danny’s mask may hide his facial expressions, but his body language suggests he’s amused by your dark humor. He may even mimic laughter through his voice changer to join in on the joke.

When seeing you perform in trials, Danny will playfully comment on your ‘trail of bits,’ distracting you from your chase. To throw him off, critique and make fun of his strategy style in trials. You’ll get him to shut up that way because joking about his killing style destroys his ego. He deserves it for distracting you from your chase. 

Danny will propose a horror movie marathon, making light of your undead state and turning it into a movie night, complete with popcorn and snarky commentary. He’ll comment a lot on how you look like the villain of most of the movies y’all watch.  

Danny likes to mess with you and will definitely hide some of your fallen pieces during trials, challenging you to find them later. Also with Danny being the king of puns, he’ll weave a lot of puns about your torn-up teddy bear appearance into y’all’s conversations. From ‘losing your head over something’ to ‘falling for you in pieces,’ his humor takes on a morbid charm that gets you laughing every time.

Despite all the macabre jokes, Danny’s actions show a peculiar form of affection. He’ll retrieve your fallen pieces, even if he’s the one who stole them and hid them around, delicately place them back in their proper place on your body. In quiet moments, Danny will lean in and confess in an eerie whisper, “You’re the only one who can make dismemberment look charming.” Fucking bastard! However, you and Danny form a unique bond built on y’all’s shared dark humor that is a testament to the resilience of y’all’s connection in the Entity’s realm. 

The Knight/Tarhos Kovács

Tarhos would be surprised at the sight of pieces falling off of you. Despite your undead state, Tarhos expresses a gentle concern for your well-being, regardless of his usual stoic and knightly manner. He’ll even try to ‘repair’ you by placing the pieces respectfully back in their right places on your body that fall off.  

Tarhos engages in polite teasing about your dismembered state. I don’t know how he does it, but he knows how to do it respectfully. He’ll make chivalrous jokes, like offering to be your ‘knight in shining armor’ even if you're a ‘teddy bear in tatters.’ Additionally, Tarhos’s knightly code will take a twist as he discusses ‘dismemberment etiquette,’ establishing proper behavior for you when pieces fall off during conversations. 

Tarhos will incorporate swordplay into y’all’s dark humor, making light jabs at your falling pieces with his sword. He’ll even suggest a jousting match with your fallen pieces as targets. It’s a fun game y’all play in your spare time. 

While y’all are walking, Tarhos will be behind you retrieving any pieces that have fallen off and will hold all your pieces in his big hands, like flowers, until y’all get to your destination where he’ll try to ‘reassemble’ you. It is a cute and comical site, yet it shows his genuine desire to care for you. 

Tarhos will serenade you with medieval ballads, incorporating humorous lyrics about your ‘torn-up teddy bear’ appearance to lighten the mood. 

Tarhos’s chivalry extends beyond physical protection, he becomes your emotional shield, navigating all your worries and insecurities through words of affirmation and hugs. As time goes on, you and Tarhos embrace the absurdity of your appearance through humor and y’all’s support for each other, forming an unconventional partnership in the dark embrace of the fog.