#cw vomit

[stxrslut]

Rafe would say he’s trying to throat train you but then would just force you down on his dick until you puke because he’s mean and likes to see you struggle :(

ugh yes he is just a meanie to his core. he tells himself he’s going to be gentle but the moment he sees your lips wrapped around him so perfectly he can’t help it. he’ll have you puking all over his cock within the minute.

and he definitely just laughs and acts all disgusted, humiliating you even more by telling you how pathetic it is to puke on cock, lacking to mention the fact that anyone would do it if their mouth was being fucked so hard.

fucks you right after to shut your crying up.

[canisalbus]

✦ Mom ✦

[foldingfittedsheets]

I had this friend I was living with when I was getting my associates degree in my early twenties. Wait, hang on. So the first thing I need to convey about that time in my life is that I was as full of anxiety as it was possible to be.

I was working, taking classes, and living on my own for the first time. I was drowning. I was a bubbling kettle of stress and responsibilities all waiting to boil over at any moment. Bodies are fickle things. They all react to stress very differently. My body decided that the best possible way to deal with stress was to puke about it.

This was extremely unwelcome not just because throwing up is a violently uncomfortable experience but also because I struggled most of my life to maintain a healthy weight. I’d eat enormous portions but even when my food stayed down I burned through calories like a hummingbird. I tended to hover right around a hundred pounds, desperately trying to gain weight.

My friends were all aware of my struggles. They’d keep granola bars on them for when I suddenly got so hungry I was sick and made me calorie dense meals. They knew the face I made when I realized I was going to be sick and usually had water and back rubs for me afterward.

So that’s where I was. Throwing up generally at least once a week, working and school full time. I was living with three friends. Let’s call them K, D, and E. K and I had been friends since middle school and she and I shared a bedroom with our own bathroom. The boys D and E shared a room, and had the public bathroom.

The last thing you need to know is that D was a sex addict. He was always horny, masturbated several times a day, and made no secret of his proclivities. It was a running joke within the friend group. (As an aside he once had his car broken into while transporting his duffel bag of sex toys to and from a liaison, and the thief ignored everything else in the car to take the toys. It was probably over a thousand dollars of used sex toys but the thief still wanted it more than his iPod)

One night I was doing homework and dinner was sitting poorly. I hadn’t fully developed my brain yet to make a connection between my paper was stressing me out to the fact that I suddenly felt really sick. But to my dismay K was in our bathroom.

So I jumped up, frantically ill, and ran across the living room to the boys toilet to barf.

The walls were thin.

Within a few minutes D came in with a cold wash cloth. He put it on my neck and rubbed my back. He’d brought a glass of water for me, too, which was all very lovely.

When I was done we sat in the miserable aftermath of this latest episode in stomach violence. He finally broke the silence to comment, “I’ve never lost an erection as fast as I did hearing you start puking.”

[theoldkyokodied]

You know which scene I am basing this on. Also (kisses all the fanfic writers on the mouth) thank you for your service

Bonus:

Edit: DISCLAIMER: Before you decide to watch Re-Animator, make sure to check for content warnings, there is a scene that a lot of people choose to skip!

[sykloni]

4. Zombies

Ectober 2023

Danny might not taste very good for zombies.

[nojaloart]

saint of bleughhh ew gross icky + girl best friends

commissions if you would like to give me money

[turtletaubwrites]

Misty Eyes ~ Part 5

THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT. 18+ ONLY. MDNI.

Pairings: Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader, Doflamingo x Fem!Reader (Past & Flashbacks)

Word Count: 3975

Misty Eyes Masterlist

Ao3 Link

Summary: Feeling good seemed out of reach, but you'd never felt safer than you do with Law. Safe enough to ask for what you want.

Author's Note: Alright friends, patience is required, but rewarded 🥰

Thank you so much @pinejayy for this delicious request!!

Rating/Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Devil Fruit User Reader, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Angst, Pet Names, Degradation, Punishment, Emotional Abuse, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Grooming, Trauma, Past Sexual Abuse, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Dubious Consent, Doflamingo is His Own Warning, Bondage, Dissociation, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Kissing, Shame, Blood and Violence, Vomiting, Minor Character Death, Sparring, Childhood Memories, Chaste Childhood Kiss, Teasing, Tickling, Yandere Doflamingo, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Hair-Pulling, Birth Control, Unprotected Sex (stay safe out there!), Forced Pregnancy (Implied/Intended), Sterilization (Implied/Intended), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Penis in Vagina Sex, Soft Trafalgar D. Water Law, Other Additional Tags To Be Added, Fluff, Sexual Dysfunction, Safe words, Choking, Praise Kink, Body Worship, Multiple Orgasms, Aftercare

!!! SPOILERS !!! This story begins during the 2 year timeskip before the Punk Hazard Arc, and there will also be spoilers for the Dressrosa Arc for backstory lore

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

“What do you mea–”

“Nuh uh,” Law scolded, sticking his thumb in your mouth like a hook to pull you closer by your bottom teeth. “You know I could always tell when you were lying. I know you faked it.”

You pulled his hand away from your face, frowning at his shit-eating grin. 

“I don’t know wha–”

“You little liar,” he accused, sitting up. His movement forced you to slide from straddling his waist to sitting in his lap, the feel of his still firm cock beneath you making you gasp. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, even as you scowled at him. His satisfied chuckle made you scrunch your nose, heat burning your face. 

“How could you tell,” you gave in, earning a quick kiss before he flipped you, laughing at you while he laid you on your back beneath him. 

“You’re a terrible liar.”

Your mouth fell open in outrage, but you couldn’t attack him while he held your fists, kissing your knuckles. 

“I’m an incredible liar,” you squirmed, his weight pinning you down. 

“See what I mean,” he taunted, your futile thrashing making you breathless. “That wasn’t believable at all.”

A frustrated huff left your lips as you struggled to punch that smirk off of his face, but he stopped talking while he kissed his way along your neck and collarbones, so you let it slide. He finally slowed, releasing your hands as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“Why didn’t you just mist away,” he seemed to tease, but his voice was too soft. 

“I…” you paused, about to argue until you realized that you didn’t want to answer. You clamped your eyes shut against that feeling, then opened them again to glare at him. “Don’t change the subject. How could you tell I was lying?”

Law took a moment, seeming to search for his answer, which did not appease you.

“I’m not sure,” he smirked at your disgruntled hum. “You always seemed so… cute when you lied.”

He blinked, looking down as if he hadn’t meant to say that, but you wouldn’t give him a pass just for looking adorable. 

So you bit him.

“Gah, what,” he sat up, pulling back in surprise until your teeth left his arm.

“Two things,” you snarked, propping up onto your elbows, “I want to know exactly what my tell is so I can get rid of it, then I want to hear all about how you thought I was cute back then.”

“So your tells are,” he grunted, catching your fist at the plural word, “sometimes the corner of your lip goes up just a bit–”

“It does not! That’s the first thing I trained out,” you argued, sitting up on your knees to face him. You narrowed your eyes at him while he ran his thumb over the edge of your mouth, until you sighed at his touch. 

“Maybe I just pay more attention,” he mused, voice husky as he kissed your temple. His breath moved to your neck, your need for answers melting away. Until your body reminded you of the moment.

“Uh, Law,” you coughed, pushing him away gently, “do you have a towel?”

He returned from his adjacent bathroom with a warm, damp towel, helping you clean up the mess he’d made before kissing up your stomach and chest again.

“What’s my other tell,” you interrupted, his soft touches ending as he rolled his eyes. He grabbed your hand, kissing your fingers before moving your own thumb across them. 

“You rub your thumb over your fingernails,” he reported, brow raised as if judging your performance. 

“I do that all the time,” you yanked your hand back, embarrassed that he’d read you so well. Lying was something you prided yourself on. It’s what kept you safe. 

“It’s a self-soothing behavior,” he softened, pushing the hair back from your face. “And you’re right, you’re probably a great liar. I just spent too much time watching you.”

Releasing a frustrated breath, you looked at his stupid face, and couldn’t help but smile. 

“Is this when you tell me how cute you thought I was?”

Law sucked his teeth, his bright eyes ready for a challenge, but instead, he kissed you. Unhurried lips and tongues, treasuring the taste of each other. 

“I thought you were gross,” he whispered against you, earning a hard punch to the arm. He laughed before he continued, holding your wrists again. “But then I thought you were cute, and I thought that was gross too.”

You grinned at the memory of what a grouchy kid he was. For over two years, you’d spent everyday together, bickering, sparring, and causing chaos. 

“At first, I studied you to gain an advantage during training,” he confessed with a sigh, looking away while his fingers tugged at the sheet. “I don’t know when it changed, but eventually I was watching you because I wanted to. Because you were cute.”

He teased the last word, caving in to your demands, and you rewarded him with another kiss, wrapping your arms around him. Soon hands and lips were traveling, until he laid you back against the pillows. 

“Can I make you come now, or do you have other demands?”

You rolled to the side to hide your face while your skin burned, and his pleased hum and teasing kisses along your side didn’t help. 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he soothed, your breath going too slow, and too shallow. “But I would love to make you feel good.”

His voice, his words, his gentle fingers that had pulled away to give you space, all of it made you freeze. 

“What can I do to help you feel good, Y/N?”

There were so many strange thoughts in your head, most moving too fast for you to follow.

Except for one thought that felt more like an emotion, a need. You were barely conscious of it, yet it drove you forward, pulling him onto you.

Make him feel good. 

Lost again in the way he touched you. Lost in the way he breathed your name while his marked fingers smoothed along your skin. Lost in the need to please him. 

“Fu-huck,” he gasped out, moaning as your fingers wrapped around his shaft, already hard again. 

Stroking him with purpose, you lined yourself up as you rubbed his tip through the new wetness his touch had drawn. His eyes rolled back before he buried his face in your neck, leaving a sloppy kiss against your skin.

A long whine left your lips, frustration making you writhe when he pulled away. He laid on his side at the edge of the bed, panting while his eyes tried to focus on your face. 

You rolled, crawling toward him with your lip caught between your teeth, more needy sounds leaving your throat. 

“Gods, you’re too fucking good,” he rasped, catching your hands before they could reach his cock again, “but, you didn’t answer my question, Y/N. How can I make you feel good?”

Your body slumped, a heavy sigh leaving your lips before his fingers brushed across them. 

“Let me take care of you,” he pleaded, the words hot against your ear. 

All you could do was nod, body limp as he lifted you back to the pillows, propping you up as if you were one of the precious comics on his shelves. That thought made you laugh, making him narrow his eyes at you until you giggled even more. 

“Something funny,” he teased with that lovely smirk. 

Words weren’t leaving your lips, so he sucked his teeth while he watched you squirm. Your breath stilled at the touch of his fingers along your inner thighs. 

“It seemed like you enjoyed me eating you out earlier, until I started fingering you. Did I read that right?”

Your eyes went wide, pausing for a moment before your words spilled out.

“N-no, it all felt amazing! I just got overwhelmed, but you felt so good…”

He watched you closely then, and you wondered if you’d shown a tell. 

But I didn't lie… 

“Okay… Please tell me if you’re feeling overwhelmed, or if you don’t like something.”

“I will,” you promised, your voice a bit high while you tilted your head down to the side, looking up at him with a teasing smile playing on your lips. 

“How about we use a safe word,” he suggested, smoothing a hand along your arm while he ignored your attempt to distract from the topic. “Do you already have one you’d like to use?”

Your eyes were a little wide as you shook your head, but a gentle kiss on your temple slowed your breathing. 

“It should be a word that doesn’t mean much, and that we wouldn’t normally say. Anytime you’re feeling overwhelmed or want to stop, you can say it, okay,” he paused, waiting for you to nod before continuing. “How about… radish?”

“Why radish,” you snorted, your body loosening up.

“Why not,” he grinned at you. His smile was a sight you’d never get enough of. “Do you have any other ideas?”

Your lips quirked, but you agreed to the word.

“Perfect. Now, will you please tell me how to make you feel good?”

He stared at your parted lips while you froze. No words came to mind. Just tension, and a mild sense of danger. 

“It’s alright if you don’t know,” he reassured, his eyes going soft as they raked over you. “Just talk to me. Is it alright if I touch you?”

You caught yourself rubbing your thumb over your fingernails when you agreed, stopping the movement before he noticed.

What’s wrong with me?

Law’s hands and lips traveled the length of your body, pulling soft gasps and sighs from your throat. You moved into his touch, reacting, showing him how good it felt. 

“I can’t believe how beautiful you are,” he whispered, looking down at your face while he traced his fingers along your leg. Your cheeks were already burning before a breathy moan surprised you both. 

He cocked his head at you, repeating the movement. For some reason, the barest touch of his fingertips to the middle of your shin made you moan again, the ticklish sensation feeling better than you thought it should. 

“Mm, found something,” he teased, leaning closer to kiss your embarrassed face. “Do you know any other places I can touch to make you moan like that?”

“Law,” you writhed, voice breathy as his fingers danced up your body. 

“Come on, pretty. Tell me one thing that feels good. I know you can think of something.”

There was no pressure in his words, but there was heat, and the hint of a challenge. You still couldn’t think of any words, but you managed to move your head to the side, trailing your fingers along the crook of your neck. 

He hummed as his fingers replaced yours, as your eyes fluttered shut. 

“Your skin’s so soft,” he purred, the hunger in his words making your toes curl. “Does it feel good when I kiss here too?”

Whining, your body went loose when he laid beside you, one of his legs resting between yours before he kissed your neck again. 

It felt so good, you could have stayed in this moment forever. The feel of his lips, tongue, facial hair, even his breath overwhelmed you. That sensitive skin sent electric shocks down to your lower back until you shook for him, his warm laughter only adding to it. 

“Thank you for showing me what you like,” he breathed against your ear. “You’re being such a good girl for me.”

Law’s praise took every thought away, everything was gone while your body reacted. Your hands fisted the sheets, your thighs tried to rub together, seeking friction, but his leg was in the way. 

“Mm, Y/N, is it alright if I finger you? You can say the word if you want me to stop, okay?”

Hesitation came back, along with anger. Anger at yourself for whatever was stopping you. For whatever was keeping you from enjoying this time with him. 

Anger at yourself for not pleasing him by giving him what he wanted.

“It’s okay, hey,” Law soothed, his thumb stroking your cheek, “we can stop here, or we can do something else. Whatever you–”

“I want to,” you choked out. Clearing your throat wasn’t enough fix the broken sound in your voice. “I don’t know why, but… me feeling good seems…”

His soft eyes warmed your skin, even though you couldn’t meet them. He waited for you.

“I keep getting nervous when it’s just me,” you murmured, keeping your eyes wide to fight the heat there. 

“Just you feeling pleasure,” he prompted, studying your face while you gulped, nodding to confirm. “You said you want to. Do you wanna try, and we can stop if you need to?”

“Mhm,” you agreed, looking up as you brushed away an unwelcome tear with the back of your hand. 

Law pressed gentle kisses across your face, wiping away another wayward tear. 

“You deserve to feel good, Y/N.” His fingers followed his pretty words, and you fought to just be here with him. So slow, so light, that tattooed hand trailed lower, until he traced around your entrance, leaning close to your ear again. “I wanna make you come so bad. Please, can I feel you come on my fingers?”

Your “yes,” came out in a whine, and you both moaned at the slide of his fingers, your drenched pussy aching for his touch. 

“Gods, you're so wet,” he panted, playing with your clit while he watched your face. “Can I–”

You interrupted his request, nodding permission before he pushed one finger, then two inside of you. His eyes never stopped scanning, and he sat up to free his other hand, caressing down your body. 

It felt so good, but there was something. You’d been able to keep memories out, but you couldn’t relax. 

“What do you need,” he checked in, his skilled fingers bringing you close, but not close enough. 

“I feel like I–” you moaned, his thumb moving over your clit while his fingers curled up to that spongy spot inside you. “I feel like I need to make you feel good.”

“Mm, you are making me feel good,” he rasped, his body seeming to relax at your confession. “I love the way you’re gripping my fingers like this. I love the little sounds you make. Watching you come would make my fucking year, Y/N.”

A laugh fell from your lips, then a moan as he pressed a little deeper.

“You don’t need it, but you have my permission to come,” he teased, his voice just a bit too real, and somehow those words released something. A tiny smirk graced his lips as you started to fall apart. 

“Gonna be a good girl, and come for me?”

“Fuck,” you breathed, the steady rhythm he’d found was building so much pressure in your core it almost hurt. 

“That’s it, you’re doing so well,” he praised, his free hand grabbing your chin to force your heavy lidded eyes to his. “You’re close, yeah? I want you to tell me exactly what you need so you can come on my fingers like a good girl. I know you can.”

“Law…”

“Can you do that for me?”

So close. So fucking close. But here was a new plateau, and all of his wonderful work was about to go to waste. Until you thought of something. 

Something that came with a pile of confusing memories and shame. Something you would have ignored, and stuffed away if you hadn’t felt so safe. 

If Law hadn’t made you feel so safe.

“Choke me, please.”

The request was almost silent, but you saw his lips part slightly. A hesitation. A mountain of self loathing threatened to roll over you.

Long, tattooed fingers encircled your throat, a necklace marked with “DEATH.” 

“Such a good girl, telling me what you want. Let me feel you– Mm, there’s my girl.”

He wrapped the perfect amount of pressure around your neck, keeping the pace with his other hand until your body started bucking, your eyes rolling white. 

It was everything you fucking needed. 

And it kept going. 

Law never stopped giving and giving, praising you while you shattered. You almost went to mist from the overwhelm, only managing to stay solid because you needed to keep coming for him. For you.

You mourned the loss of those wicked fingers choking and fucking you, but he worshipped your body again while aftershocks tore through you. 

“You’re fucking amazing,” he chuckled, laughing harder at the gibberish you replied with. He kissed and caressed you while your body came back to the room. “Can I get you anything? Water, or are you hung–”

He’d moved away slightly, but you reached out with your wobbly arms, pulling him close. He hummed at your touch, then gasped again when your hands found his cock, the heat of him making you writhe.

“Y/N, we don’t have to–”

“Please, fuck me,” you begged, sluggishly rolling onto your stomach. Looking over your shoulder at him, you got to witness the loveliest, most desperate look you’d ever seen on his face when you lifted your ass toward him. “I need your cock.”

There was no hesitation now. 

Just the whispered, “say the word if you need to,” before he was behind you, thrusting into your twitching cunt while you screamed for him. 

Tattooed hands on your hips helped him slam into you, hitting that perfect spot so fast, so hard, that you came in what felt like seconds.

“Oh fuck. Pussy feels so good, baby,” he moaned, slurring a bit before pressing your upper body into the bed. The new angle made you scream louder, clawing at the sheets. 

“You like that, Y/N,” he checked in, voice strained as he fought his need. 

“Pull my hair,” you demanded softly.

One of those hands pushed you down, his weight between your shoulder blades while he pounded into you. Frenzied thrusts rocked your body while his free hand fisted into the hair at the back of your head, finally giving you that sting you needed. 

“Do it again,” he forced through his teeth, his bruising grip making you drool onto the sheets. “Come for me, pretty. Come on my cock right fucking now.”

“Law, fuck, I’m…”

Words were gone, his quarters ringing with your breathy screams, and his heavy grunts. The slapping of wet, needy flesh nearly drowned you both out until he buried himself as deep as he could go, your toes curling while he filled you with heat. Your body milked the come out of him until you both collapsed, sweaty limbs still reaching for each other. 

“Are you okay,” he coaxed, brushing another hot tear away from your cheek. 

“I’m happy.”

Those words had left your lips many times over the past few years, but this time you didn’t have to lie. This time you let tears fall without shame, laughing as he left tickling kisses anywhere he could reach, holding you close. More laughter floated through the air while he carried you to the bathroom. You trailed your fingertips along his lines of ink, as though you were walking the paths around your new home, memorizing each lovely view. 

“You know this doesn't mean I’m gonna go easy on you, right,” Law threatened as he threw a blanket over your bare skin, wrapping himself around you. 

“You’re such an ass,” you hummed, nuzzling into his warmth. 

“You could be nicer to your captain, you know,” he quipped, his deep voice making you shiver. 

“If you’re my captain, does that make me a Heart Pirate?”

His arm tensed around you, and your mind cringed against your presumption.

Nothing’s changed. I’m still a tool, a threat, even if I am something more. Don’t fucking push–

“Only if you want to be.”

Law’s hushed offer stilled your thoughts. You couldn’t answer without seeing his face, so you twisted in his arms until you could cup his cheek, knowing that the shy smile on his face reflected your own. His eyes poured over you, until his brows creased slightly as he waited for your response. Waited to hear if you wanted to spend your life as a pirate, living on this submarine, putting yourself in danger. Waited to hear if you wanted to stay with him. 

It wasn’t a question.

“I do,” you promised with a kiss, pulling back to smirk at him, “but I’m still gonna call you an ass.”

Soon you were begging, breathless as you lost the fight, your cheeks hurting from laughing after his long fingers had stopped tickling you. Being wrapped up in each other still felt unreal. He fell asleep so fast, his light snores a comforting sound, even when you couldn’t stop the tears from staining your skin. 

You’d never felt safer. 

But memories were still there.

Doffy. 

He’ll find me. He’ll take me back. After he makes me watch him kill Law. 

He’ll probably use my hands. Just like…

You went completely limp, head lolling as your body fought the sticky memory of blood on your hands.

Part of your brain still had memories. Part of your brain berated you for not enjoying this perfect moment with Law. But most of your brain went to a strange buzzing place, unfocused eyes seeing nothing but a blur. 

When this empty space wasn’t frightening, it was relaxing, in a sick way. 

Leaving. 

Being nothing. 

Safe.

“Y/N? You okay,” he checked in, groggy voice filled with concern. 

Your limp body rolled as he shifted. A tiny part of you floated above the bed, watching, yelling at yourself to move, hating that he had to deal with this.

The rest of you was trapped in a fish tank, sinking to the bottom.

Law stayed with you. Even though you couldn’t feel, even though you couldn’t hear, you knew he was there. He was there when you returned, soothing your “sorry’s” away. Asking what you needed, bringing you water, then starting all over again as if it hadn’t happened.

Holding you close as he drifted off to sleep, and this time, you followed him. 

This time, Law pulled you from the nightmares. He reminded you where you were while he kept you from clawing at your chest. He waited until he saw your eyes stay present, then he teased you until you were his again. 

“Hurry up, or I’ll make you use the barracks bathroom,” he warned, pushing you through the door with a towel and a change of clothes. He beamed at your middle finger, and you could hear him counting down random numbers while you got ready. 

“Why don’t you just join me,” you challenged, about to turn on the water.

“You know why.”

You showered fast, even though your body twisted with need at the thought of him shoving you against the tile wall, but your mood soured when you looked in the mirror. It was disorienting to see that face on this submarine. To see that face anywhere but at Doffy’s side.

You managed to pull yourself out before you fell too deep, but this time you didn’t push it away. No hiding, no running in fear. 

Doffy lived there, behind your misty eyes. The weight of his presence hung around your shoulders like that heavy, pink coat. Your body screamed with the need to be safe, the need to be whatever he wanted you to be. His laugh echoed in your skull as he called for his “pretty doll.”

But you weren’t a doll anymore. 

I’m a Heart Pirate now, Doffy. And I’m gonna help Law kill you.

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me all the ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Heeeyyyy we made it. We completed the fic request. It's over... Lol, not! I have so much more planned for this story, but there will be a pause here while I circle back to another fic. But fret not, I'm obsessed with this story, and have already outlined some upcoming chapters!

Thank you so much for joining me! Again, I hope none of you relate to the reader's trauma, and her struggle to enjoy her own pleasure, but if you do, you're not alone 🖤 I hope you are given all the patience and love you need so that you can enjoy all the pleasure you desire.

You deserve to feel good!!

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel | @nothing-but-brass | @lovemesomefanfic846

Part 6

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

[effen-draws]

I'm real sick rn so I could come up with nothing other than to publicly document how bad my luck is in Disco Elysium...

Anywaaaaays all I've been doing this last week is playing this game and I am head-over-heels hyperfixated!! Like why haven't I played this sooner? Am I cursed to always be late to the party??

[stxrslut]

what happens if u throw up accidentally thoo?? rafe would actually get worried

no he woulddd! Rafe definitely has the capacity to be nice when he knows u need it!!

you’d both gotten home from the party about half an hour ago, Rafe is sober, having been the designated driver. you on the other hand, are absolutely smashed.

Rafe had been doubtful about even letting you go down on him, but you’d begged for long enough that he gave in. so now you’re on your knees in front of him while he’s sat back on the couch, legs spread to give you access.

his hand is hovering by the back of your head, ready to yank you back by the hair the moment he decides you’re taking too much.

you shove your head down as far as you can, gagging viscerally. maybe it’s the soft buzz that’s filled your head from the alcohol, or maybe it’s the half subspace that you’re falling into, but you don’t notice the nausea settling in your lower stomach.

Rafe takes his attention off of you for a second, too lost in the pleasure as he nears his orgasm. but he’s immediately pulled out of it when he feels the warmth splash onto him.

he looks down, immediately pulling you back when he sees what’s happening. “okay— shit okay.. right— you’re fine.. that’s okay.” he pulls your hair back, holding it up in a slipshod ponytail while you get sick on the floor, set off and unable to stop yourself.

you cough and splutter, grabbing onto rafe’s hand to try and stop yourself from shaking. “I’m so— I’m sorry—” you do your best to apologise, because you’re mortified.

“It’s fine kid. didn’t mean it did you? just finish up.” he pats your back, keeping you clean to the best of his ability.

when you’re done he pulls you up onto his lap, not caring that you’re messy, he knows that you need to be comforted right now. “there we go. all done, yeah?”

you sniffle and nod “all done… m’sorry.” you wipe the corner of your mouth with your sleeve.

“no need to apologise… we’ll get you cleaned up ‘n it’ll be like it never happened, kay?” he brushes your hair from your face, his face set in that concern that makes you feel so so save.

when you’ve recovered enough to walk, he helps you up and walks you towards the bathroom. “y’know I’m not one to back away from havin’ my cock puked on… but some warning would be nice next time.”

[koszmarnybudyn]

Dungeon and daddies spoilers ahead

The doodler being made corporial had such a clear image attached in my head, Anthony described it so well so here it is in a stain glass window like format.

[frostbitebakery]

Es war einmal.

surrender au

Good intentions. That’s always how these stories start.

“Here, let’s sit you down.”

Good intentions are straws to grasp. To lunge after when the despair becomes too intimate.

“It worked,” Obi-Wan cries, tears sliding through the hiccups. Useless scarred hands bump against his face, smearing the pain. “Why did it work?”

Cody swallows the gag against the boulder in his throat. He can’t answer. “Ecmo is on his way.”

Obi-Wan nods into his hands, straightens out his leg and sobs out against the crunch it makes. “Fuck. Kriffing fuck.”

Unstrapping leg guards is a matter of seconds. He cups Obi-Wan’s calf, holds it steady as he stabilizes the leg. “Try not to move.” Where the hell is Ecmo.

There’s a cough. Another one and Cody hurriedly slaps his bucket out of the way on the floor when Obi-Wan tips over and vomits up the last Dark.

He strokes a careful hand across a shoulder.

Obi-Wan drags the sleeve of his singed beige tunic over his mouth. “Cody, why did it work?” Frightened eyes bleed out the gold.

Good intentions have a way about them that makes them spiral into the insidious. Slowly. The arrogance in presuming to know the unknown, the risks. The compromises for the greater good.

The boulder finally drops from his throat to his stomach. He cups a bearded cheek. Feels the grateful dread settle and swarm and infest. “Thank you for saving them,” he rasps out, staring into blue-ish eyes. Needing Obi-Wan to believe him, to grasp the magnitude of Cody’s thanks.

“Cody..?”

He nudges Obi-Wan’s head forward, straightens up the last inches and brings their foreheads together. “Thank you, Obi-Wan. Never do that again.”

Good intentions, they say, pave roads.

Obi-Wan chuckles, wet and wry. Presses harder against Cody for a second. “I have no intention to repeat that.” Even if it worked.

It always starts with the good intentions.

part 1

[the-kr8tor]

back to back requests, if you are okay with that. r finding out that she’s pregnant, and then hobie finding out? or maybe they both find out at the same time? up to you!!

Another banger request, bestie! Thank you 🫶

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), CW vomiting, description of illness, pregnancy talk, Billie and Ramona AU, Dad! Hobie, Mom! Reader, FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

The portal opens in the living room, from the force of it opening has the boat rocking in the stagnant water. the sounds of your trinkets falling and crashing on the floor has Peter B. Cringing, while Mayday giggles excitedly in his arms. MJ follows close behind, all dressed up and pretty for their anniversary. The portal closes behind her in a mechanical sound.

“Hobie! Y/N?” Peter yells across the small space.

Mayday babbles to what sounds like your names. She tries to escape from her father's hold, kicking and squealing excitedly.

“Maybe they're still asleep?” MJ looks behind the kitchen island, she shrugs, having no idea where you or Hobie are.

Meanwhile, Mayday escapes, crawling across the floors. Upon your request, Peter took off Mayday's web shooters because in their last visit, well, the toddler almost gave you a heart attack.

Peter scratches his head, eyes flicking towards the closed bedroom door. “Do you think they're, you know?” he asks his wife with a slight whisper, wiggling his eyebrows.

MJ side glances, “Come on, really, Pete?”

Mayday points at the bathroom further down the hallway, Peter's enhanced hearing picks up retching and dry heaving inside the closed bathroom, the sound bouncing off the tiled walls.

He picks up Mayday, cradling her head. Looks like date night is postponed when the only person who volunteered to babysit Mayday is sick.

“Everything alright in there?” he knocks softly on the door.

The living room window slides open and out jumps Hobie holding onto a brown paper bag.

“You're early, hey MJ.” He says nonchalantly.

“Hi, Hobie, is she okay?” MJ grimaces after another round of retching continues inside the bathroom.

“Dude,” Peter makes way for Hobie to enter the small hallway. “Is she sick? You know I can't drop Mayday off while there's some sort of infection happening in here–” he gets a thwack upside the head from his wife.

“She's fine” Hobie says it to the couple but it's more of a reassurance for himself. “We both think she ate something bad a few days ago and she's been like this every morning.” He knocks twice on the door.

MJ looks like she's thinking.

Your pained muffled voice echoes out. “I'll be out in a minute, sorry.”

“Don't be sorry, love. I've got your meds, yeah? Come out so you can drink it” he says through the door.

With a click of the doorknob, you reveal yourself to the party in Hobie's jumper and a very old sweatpants hanging on your hip. Your eyes are flushed, sniffing to hell and back.

“Hi, sorry I don't think we can take care of Mayday today.” You say dejectedly, eyes forlorn as you look at the toddler who's equally devastated to hear the news.

“Aww man but we've got reservations–” MJ slaps Peter upside the head again.

Hobie helps you walk with his arms wrapped around your shoulders, thumb massaging comfortingly. He whispers to you. “How do you feel?”

“I feel like my stomach is doing somersaults.” You groggily say. Hobie sits you down on the settee, handing you a water bottle and medicine.

“Y/N, sweetheart, when was the last time you had your period?” You almost did a spit take when MJ asked you the question.

“Honey, what the he–cow” Peter fumbles, realizing that his daughter's still in his arms, watching him with her big eyes.

Hobie looks at you with wide eyes, slowly realizing something. You ate the same thing he eats everyday so why are you the only one with the stomach bug?

“Uh I'm late this month…” you side eye Hobie who looks like he's about to vomit right there and then. “Why? I'm probably just stressed and…” MJ gives you a soft look.

“Are you fatigued?” MJ softly asks, you nod while Hobie observes you and you only. “Any tenderness in the chest” you nod again. Hobie flicks his eyes down to your stomach. “Y/N, darling.” She smiles at you and Hobie, Peter gives you two the most awkward thumbs up. Mayday copies her dad, nodding along.

You chuckle nervously, facing Hobie, your bottom lip wobbling.

“Y/N” Hobie looks at you with glistening eyes. “Love, I think I should swing by the chemist again.” He holds your hand affectionately, eyes never leaving yours as a smile spreads across his face.

Peter's spidey senses warn him, covering Mayday's ears in one quick dad movement.

“Holy shit! Am I pregnant?!” you screech.

One agonizing fifteen minutes later, two lines appear on the small plastic stick, confirming MJ’s suspicion. Hobie was with you the entire time, holding your hand, caressing your back as he whispers ‘I love yous’ in your ear. You know you and the baby will be okay.

[hei-n1cky]

...?

[taralen]

"W-What's happening to me?!"

It started one morning without any prior signs or warnings. They first appeared as unusual bruises, but as the days passed, they swelled and inflamed. A searing, agonizing pain tortured his wrists. Spamton turned to the strongest painkillers money could buy and covered the painful bands with gauze wraps. He couldn't let his employees see. They were already scrambling to improve numbers for the Q4. How could he motivate them while dealing with this?! Days passed, and they could no longer ignore his bandages. "Sir, are you alright? Did you injure yourself?" they asked. "Worry about your own problems," he said. "We have only a month left. Work on those numbers, and don't worry about me!" [[He]] wasn't answering the phone. What was keeping [[him]]?! He needed answers! Spamton changed the gauze wraps daily as the strange wounds worsened and seeped blood into them. His skin was rotting somehow, necrotizing beneath what felt like tight invisible bands eating away at his flesh but with no rotten odor. Delirium consumed him, coming in waves as the feverish agony of his strange affliction fought against his painkillers. Large round bruises appeared on the outer edge of his hands, transforming into painful, stab-like indentions within days, amplifying this torture. What was this affliction?!

He started wearing black gloves to hide the wraps, using the excuse that he was unusually cold from this strange virus he was fighting off.

WHERE WAS [[HE]]? ANSWER THE DAMN PHONE, YOU PIECE OF @#*(!!!

"It hurts... It hurts..." Spamton uttered, surrounded by his faithful Minitons that served him gentle foods and cooled his forehead as he fought the feverish chills that came and went. The painkillers stopped working, so he downed them with battery acid.

Dazed and confused, he awoke one morning with a terrible throbbing around his jaw. Did he grind his teeth too hard? What was going on?

Spamton stumbled into the bathroom, his hands and wrists now so swollen and inflamed that the capillaries threatened to burst. "I-I can do this. I just need to wash up." He prayed mentally for [[him]] to answer the phone. Please [HEAVEN] let this be the day. Nausea overcame him as he flipped the light switch on. He hurried to the sink and wretched blood and some tar-like substance into it. Heaving, he brought his hand up to massage his aching jaw. When he raised his head, he gazed into his reflection, his stomach dropping as his thumb and forefinger ran down the lines extending from the corners of his lips to the bottom of his chin. They were bruises...

He trembled and then vomited even more blood and black ooze into the sink. With his fingers digging into his scalp, he screamed, "WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME?!"

Started off as a doodle that I decided to do something with. This is a teaser of how I imagine the [very painful and slow]] transformation Spamton endures while becoming a puppet. I decided to write a small fic with it to give a better idea of the pure agony I imagine him enduring during this time. It's subject to change, but this is the best I got at the moment. LOL.

Though I drew this a while back, I was partially inspired by @keylee's short animation where Big Shot Spamton loses his @#$^ and vomits into a sink. Check it out here:

[90scully]

THE FLY (1986) dir. David Cronenberg