#fog horn noises

[lake-lunvik]

[guppiepup]

YR POST ABT DETRANS PPL 🥺 THANKS -A DETRANS GIRLIE

YOURE WELCOME! and for those who dont allow detrans accs to interact just read these lyrics.

and outside if the kink space, i fully support detrans people or trans people who serve opposite gender cunty realness. (also the lyric thats ‘you thought this, what else?’ is actually “if not this, what else?”)

[wingspiked]

Hoyo posted Aventurine’s social media posts including that one piece of art of him and all the women (Topaz, Black Swan, Sparkle etc) liked the photo and SO DID SUNDAY??? I’m sobbing why is that so funny

when you hate stalk your enemy / crush on the internet

ㅤㅤㅤ❝  i  do  not  'hate  stalk'  him.  have  you  never  heard  of  keeping  your  friends  close  but  your  enemies  closer?  besides  -  the  magazine  featured  penacony  as  well.  did  you  ever  consider  i  was  liking  it  because  of  that  and  not  his  dangerously  low  sleep  pants  and  that  shirt  holding  on  by  it's  singular  button-  ❞

[heterosexistly]

So much I wanna say because tbh this is a lil triggering

[kajjinks]

Lifelong quiet introvert has to spend a few nights alone after finally getting used to communal living and regular physical affection: will they make it

[sluttysuperheroes]

literally hate neil gaiman so much soooooo much

[windrunner]

i'm letting the autism win today

[thebibliosphere]

Last month, I had to tell my mother she was having an allergic reaction to the flu vaccine, so that was fun.

She was like, "Yeah, it's so weird how it makes you feel like you have the flu."

And I was like, "Yeah, I've heard that. I wouldn't know; I'm allergic."

And she ignored me and kept talking and was like, "And it's so instant, too! Like within minutes, I was hot and flushed, and my throat was all tight and scratchy, and my nose was running."

And I was like, "..."

And mum kept talking like, "and I hate the rash it gives you."

At which point, I'm pretty sure I made a noise native only to sea lions and fog horns and made her go to the chemist to get antihistamines because, girl, that's an allergic reaction.

Anyway, she spoke to her doctor about it this week, and the doctor told her, "Oh, that's normal. Everyone gets that," and I just

*pinches bridge of nose*

Girl, MD. That's An Allergic Reaction.

[boss-poss]

See, Lethal Company's real genius is that it somehow marries two normally opposed genres, those being horror and comedy together into something greater. Mechanically it's a multiplayer looter extraction survival type game. It's designed to create stressful and scary situations by forcing you to speedrun mini randomized dungeons while monsters hunt your character to meet a certain quota (our asses are not making quota). That's not the clever part though, no, that's giving the players the ability to fuck themselves over and the hilarity that comes from it.

Anything you say into your mic is said in the game world and can be heard by certain monsters. Many items, similarly, can be used to make noise and you can bet there is little impulse control when a player finds an air horn or gets a walkie talkie. The sound of a distant honk somewhere out of nowhere is not something most players are prepared for while in a pitch black maze. Sound in this game has a doppler effect, which makes it harder to hear the further away the source is, allowing screams to fade into nothing and unintelligible yelling heard for a second before vanishing. You must rely on your senses but those are, by design, limited and regularly tricked.

Because level layouts, monster locations, and item spawns are all random, it's insanely easy to get lost or lose track of thigs, especially in the dark and especially when panicking. Seeing a bracken for the first time will almost certainly send a player running in the opposite direction and get lost, if they even see it all. No one is prepared to have a hand wrap around their face and snap their neck in an instant. It's utterly shocking and will leave you gasping in surprise to first time you experience it.

Certain weather patterns make levels harder, some even nearly impossible (looking at you eclipse), and sometimes your options are avoiding deadly lightning or not being able to see due to fog. High level moons have excessively valuable loot but also feature the worst foes and cost a fee to access, forcing a compromise between greed, ability, and resources.

Dying, likewise incurs a penalties. Your team is fined for dying and not bringing the bodies back but if you all die, all your collected loot goes poof. Gone. A team wipe can and will effectively end the run in an instant if you do something stupid like stick around when you hear "pop goes the weasel" or try to pick up that funny looking roomba. You can almost feel the pressure weighing down on your shoulders when you realize you're the last one left and you need to get back to the ship or miss the quota.

The monsters likewise, are engines of terror that are comically effective killing machines with no cohesive theme to help anticipate them. The already mentioned bracken is one of the scariest things I've seen in a game, and those technically aren't even that bad. They're completely manageable if you keep your head on a swivel and pay attention to your surroundings. Coilheads are these mannequins with bobble heads that will path to and kill you in a microsecond the moment you aren't looking at them, weeping angel style. There's a thing called the ghost girl that I have yet to see but is apparently one of the most terrifying critters in the menagerie. Forest giants. If you know, you know.

All these little mechanics, these choices that are made by and for the player, create a maelstrom of unpredictable chaos that, like a buxom blond transforming into an orgasming pooltoy, turns what would be strictly serious horror into a unique form of dark comedy that layers over it like jelly on peanut butter. You are scared, you are on edge, and it only gets worse when you know what these things are capable of, but the sheer hopelessness is something you all have in common. It's funny how little hope you have. You will die. A monster will wipe your team. There will eventually come a quota you can't beat. You were doomed from the start.

So why not get silly with it? Why not try to fight that bracken with shovel? Fuck him. Why not just run past a turret and try to nab that fat jar of pickles? Why not wander off from the group? You're just as likely to come back with arms loaded and the quota met as you are likely to not come back at all. You're already dead, so take the gamble, do stupid shit, repeat this hell until you can meet its horrors with grim determination and put in the effort to afford that goddamn boombox. Dance. Just press 1 and dance the fear away.

You are all united in your mortality and duty, fragile sacks of flesh working to break even at the behest of perhaps the greatest horror of all: The company you work for. You are so preposterously fucked beyond all belief from every angle there really isn't enough adjectives to describe it. And that's comedy baby, when things are so bad all you can do is laugh.

[sashiavi]

OKAY SO no pressure and if you have nothing else to write i would love more goat harvey oh my god.. if its alright,, youre my new favorite writer imgoing insane ohmyfucjing god oh my GOD ❤️❤️❤️ - 🌿

Awhhh sweetie you're too kind ♡♡

GoatHybrid!Harvey my beloved~ I can't stop thinking about him, genuinely - I hope you enjoy ♡

Warnings : 18+ Smut | overtimulation | crying | GoatHybrid!Harvey | multiple orgasms | hybrids | hybrid characters | hi hello not beastiality it's hybrid!characters thank you stop harassing me on anon Ty ♡

•··········🍑···········• ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪•···········🍑··········•

Thinking about milking poor Goat!Harvey dry.

Working at his warm, thick cock with your fist, stocking unpredictably, languid to skilled pumping, already slicked and drenched in his own cum. The slide of your hand is easy, cock nice and self lubed from the loads he'd already blown.

Squirmy Goat!Harvey just can't sit still, back pressed into his armchair, you between his legs, forcing them open with your body. His hands grab and fist at the arms of the chair, digging into the plush fabric for an ounce of stability. His head throws back, curled horns grazing the soft fabric behind him.

He's all warm, too sweaty, peachy soft body hair sticking wet to his chest and arms. Poor Goat!Harvey can't see. Glasses all fogged up, covered in sweat and tears, hot vapor rising off of his body.

Yoba he cries and keens, hips both bucking up into your fist and away from your searing grip, unable to decide if he truly loved what you were doing to him. His voice is breathless, only tinged by soft 'bleats' and 'maas', embarrassing little noises tied to his Hybrid features.

His moans and cries come forth, louder, higher, sobbing with stained hiccups when you force yet another orgasm through him.

God his cock was pretty when it came. Thick and tan, fat pudgy tip flexing as he blows hot ropes all over your fist. Such a messy man, with cum dribbling down his cock, pooling down his heavy balls, creamy and thick, good enough to taste.

Poor Goat!Harvey struggles to keep up. Outwardly sobbing when your hand comes to milk at his tip, paying extra special attention to his sensitive, overstimulated glands. Drool pools under his tongue, snapping in pretty stringy lines everytime he opens up his lips to cry. You're sure he comes close again, his mouth snapped shut, teeth grinding dangerously hard against themselves - You can't have him hurt himself like that? Can you?

Your pretty fingers tease over his length, other hand continuing to fist his poor cock head. Your fingertips can't help but glide over his mess, thick milky cum webbing over your skin, sticking and clinging to you. What a waste of milk..

Goat!Harvey can't help but be alarmed when your fingers press to his lip, mouth automatically opening for their intrusion. His eyes shoot open in a panic, hyper aware of the delicate press of your fingers against his tongue, pressing gently against his front teeth. He hyperventilates, scared to move, jaw quivering, brain focusing so, so hard to not nip and bite down. Your fingers drag over his tongue, forcing him to taste that sweet, creamy cum of his.

Yoba you overwhelm him, forcing him into a dreadful sense of hyper awareness, that feeling of your hand on his swollen tip - jerking, sliding, forcing up another tight squeeze in his balls. Your delicate fingers dancing on his tongue, an all too dangerous place for them to be, considering his nature to nip and bite out of self defense - all too stressed and overstimulated from your mean ministrations.

You don't even need to say anything, not even look at him - not that'd he'd notice you - all too stuck in his head, feeling that aching sting in his spent cock, somehow still standing tall, throbbing in the palm of your hand. Yoba it's all too much, he was going to cum again - miraculously - he didn't know how he had more in him.

Goat!Harvey leaves his jaw lax as he moans out, lest he chomp down on your poor fingers. Hips bucking, throat bleating while he comes again and again, hot and wet, practically squirting like a bitch. Your fist was violent with him, milking out every last drop of that sweet, salty cream, forcing it out on his chest with his impressive spray. Goat!Harvey can barely make out words, trying his best to plead and beg past your fingers, practically gagging on them with choked sobs.

Yoba maybe you noticed, finally letting his sore cock go, free from your treacherous grasp. Your fingers leave his mouth, trailing down his neck, petting through the sweat stuck hair that frames his chest.

It's not until those fingers pinch and twiddle at one of his nipples, your cum covered hand grasping hard at his base, pressure teasing over his balls. Poor Goat!Harvey chokes a sob when your pretty pink tongue laps over his poor stinging tip. Catching that sweet, weeping milk dribbling from him.

You deserved a treat right? After making him feel so good.

•· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·····.•🍑•.····· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·•

Sorry for being away for a few days :>

Recovering from assignments </3 I'm about to check one of my grades and that will dictate my mood for the rest of the week 😭

[unclewaynemunson]

It's October when the autumn chill officially dawns over Hawkins. Wayne wakes up to fogged-up windows, and his bones protest loudly when he stretches to get up and make himself some warm coffee. It's too early in the year to turn on the heating; if they start that now, they'll be bankrupt before it's even January. So while the coffee is brewing, he shrugs off the old shirt he uses as a pajama, and puts on as many layers as he'll need to keep himself warm: first an undershirt, then a soft flannel, and then a faded brown sweater that's been sitting uselessly in his closet all through the summer. It's patched up at the elbows to conceal the holes that have fallen into it, but still warm and comfortable, which is all Wayne can really ask for.

'Ed, got coffee for ya!' he calls out when he's changed into his jeans and the coffee is almost ready.

Some muffled noises sounding vaguely like 'lemmesleeeeeep' emerge from the other side of the thin wall.

Wayne chuckles as he turns on the gas, deciding he might as well make scrambled eggs for breakfast; a thinly-veiled excuse to heat up the trailer by using the stove.

'And eggs in a minute!'

Another string of muffled sounds emerges from Eddie's bedroom, 'stoocold' being the only semi-decipherable one.

For a moment, Wayne feels guilty. He knows, deep down, that this is nothing more than his Eddie being dramatic. But that doesn't change his wish that he could simply turn on the heat without giving it a second thought and make Eddie's Sunday morning just slightly more comfortable. He doesn't care about the chill in his own bones, he's had worse. He doesn't care about the condensation on the windows, that is now changing into thick droplets that are gliding down to the windowsill, leaving traces of soot in their wake. He's not even sure if he'd ever want to live in a real, proper house. But the one thing he does want, is to get his nephew through the season warm and comfortable without having to count every penny.

Eddie finally emerges from his bedroom, with only his head peeking out of the blanket he has wrapped himself in, and a sleepy look in his eyes. The phone starts ringing just as Wayne greets him, and Eddie, who's closer to it, shuffles towards it.

Almost immediately after he picks up, his eyes shed their drowsy look and light up in a way that Wayne has come to know all too well, while his mouth curves into a wicked grin.

'No, sir, he's not here,' Eddie says into the phone, his eyes wide and innocent. 'When he didn't come home last night, I assumed he'd be spending the night with you. I guess he must have a secret lover we both don't know about.'

Wayne abruptly turns off the gas and barges towards Eddie, who barks out a laugh while he jumps back as far as the phone cord allows him.

'Just joking, Mr. Clarke, he is here!' he calls out in an annoyingly triumphed tone. 'And he can't wait to talk to you, here he is!'

Wayne playfully shoves Eddie against the wall as he takes the phone from him.

'Sorry for my menace of a nephew, Scott,' he says.

He hears a chuckle on the other side of the line, slightly distorted through the horn. It's as if his hand has a will of its own, clenching around the phone and pressing it almost painfully close to his ear; like he'll be able to catch the sound of Scott's laughter better if he could only press himself tighter to his phone.

'Luckily I'm used to middle schoolers, nothing I can't handle here.'

Wayne snorts and turns towards Eddie, who is now shamelessly staring at him from above his blanket-cocoon a few steps away from him.

'Scott says you should stop behavin' like a damn middle schooler,' he grumbles.

'Yep, that sounds exactly like something sweet Scott Clarke would say,' Eddie remarks, that devilish grin still plastered on his face.

'What can I do for ya, Scott?'

'Well, I just came downstairs for breakfast, and when I looked outside, I realized this is our first proper fall day.'

Wayne directs his gaze to the wet kitchen window. He hadn't even thought to look through the droplets on the glass; but now that he does, he realizes Scott is right. The trees around Forest Hills are definitely showing more yellow and orange than they did yesterday, and some patches of fog are still lingering a few feet above the wilted grass and muddy roads. The skies are a light shade of gray, telling Wayne that even though it'll be cold, it won't likely start raining anytime soon.

'I was wondering if you have any plans for today?' Scott's continues in his ear. 'We could go for a walk in the forest, admire the colors, see if we can find some cool mushrooms... What do you think?'

Wayne wonders whether he's imagining the nervous edge to Scott's voice, merely hearing in there what he wants to hear.

'I'm free all day,' Wayne says. He clamps the phone between his ear and his shoulder, needing both his hands to fumble around in his chest pocket and find a cigarette and a lighter. 'You wanna come over after breakfast? I can make a thermos of coffee and we can head into the woods here, I know a nice path around Lov- around the lake.' He can feel Eddie's gaze burning on him, but he refuses to look at his nephew, instead closing his eyes as he places the cigarette between his lips and lights it.

Scott is kind enough to pretend like he didn't notice Wayne's unfortunate stutter.

'A walk around the lake sounds perfect,' he says instead, his voice still as chipper as ever. 'I'll be at yours in an hour. Enjoy your breakfast with Eddie.'

'Real smooth, Uncle Wayne.' Eddie's amused voice cuts through the silence as soon as Wayne has hung the phone back on the hook.

'Don't be ridiculous now, boy,' Wayne grumbles. 'He's my friend.'

'With whom you're gonna hang out at Lover's Lake. Like friends do.' The sarcasm is dripping from Eddie's voice.

'I liked you better when you were still asleep in your bed,' Wayne remarks.

Eddie laughs loudly. 'You shoulda thought about that before you made me come out of it to freeze to death.'

Wayne crosses his arms and shoots Eddie an unimpressed look. 'Are you gonna do anything today or just spending your whole day makin' fun of me?'

Eddie shrugs – or rather, that's what Wayne supposes is happening underneath the moving blanket. 'I'm gonna take the kids to the pumpkin farm with Steve.' He lowers his voice and leans closer towards Wayne, continuing in an conspiratorial voice, 'We call that a date. Maybe you and Mr. Clarke should stop being cowards and come join us. Make it a double date.'

Wayne doesn't say anything; he simply rolls his eyes and walks back to the stove, lighting the gas underneath the frying pan again so he can direct all his attention to his eggs.

---

An hour later, Eddie has left – with a pit stop at the Mayfields' trailer – to pick up Steve. Wayne has done the dishes, dried the windows and filled a thermos with fresh coffee. By the time Scott parks his car in the spot where Eddie's van had been earlier, most of the fog outside has disappeared. Wayne watches him get out of his car through the kitchen window, but he doesn't come outside just yet, afraid it'll make him seem too eager.

Scott knocks on the door and then lets himself in, like he's done many times over the summer that now lies behind them. He's wearing a woolen coat in a dark gray color, with a simple black scarf around his neck.

Wayne feels his hands twitch with the desire to wrap themselves around Scott's waist, to tug him close and bask in the warmth of his body. Would his scarf feel as soft as it looks? Would he smell like fresh autumn air? Would his touch be as warm as the quilt on his couch?

'Oof, it's chilly in here,' Scott remarks, rubbing his hands together.

'I don't get cold that fast.' It's only partly a lie.

'I like the sweater.'

The easy and earnest compliment catches Wayne off-balance; he doesn't know what to do, where to look, where to keep his hands. He wants to escape Scott's approving gaze and hide away somewhere no one can perceive him.

Instead, he clears his throat and thanks the heavens for the fact that Eddie has already left.

'Ready to go?' he asks.

They head into the woods and Wayne leads the way as they stray further from the trailer park. Their feet easily find a rhythm that feels natural to both of them, avoiding the bigger puddles on the path and stopping every now and then to admire toadstools, dewy cobwebs, and fallen leaves in beautiful colors.

As they make their way around Lover's Lake, Wayne ponders what exactly the difference is between what Eddie would call a hangout, and a date. He doesn't exactly have a lot of friends who he hangs out with. He has his colleagues at the plant, of course, who he'd always kept at a distance, which proved him right when they were all too ready to come for his Eddie last March. He has some neighbors he's friendly with; he helps them with a thing or two around their trailers and in return they share a beer or a smoke with him. But he wouldn't call that real friendship either. He has learned long ago how dangerous it can be to let people come too close. Some people only wanted certain things from him, others would judge him when they'd find out a thing too many about him. And the pain of losing a rare, true friend became all too clear to him back in Vietnam.

After that, he mainly stuck to himself. And then it became him and Eddie against the world. He never needed anyone else. He was good at being alone, after all. There was a certain level of comfort to be found in loneliness.

So this thing with Scott – whatever it is – is not something he can compare to anything else. The only thing he knows is that it's definitely not lonely. And that he doesn't want to mess it up and lose the only true friend he's had in decades.

'What's on your mind?' Scott asks when they sit down on a fallen tree at the edge of the lake to enjoy their coffee. 'You've been quiet.'

'I'm always quiet,' Wayne points out.

It makes Scott chuckle softly before he takes a sip of his coffee.

'Not as quiet as you think,' Scott says. 'Today, you're thinking loudly. I can almost hear your thoughts.'

Wayne carefully places his own mug on the tree, then grabs himself a cigarette and lights it, all to buy himself some time. But even after a long drag and another sip of coffee, he still doesn't quite know how to voice his thoughts.

'Was just admirin' the fall colors,' he decides to say instead, when the silence starts taking too long.

He can practically feel Scott's eyes on his face as he stubbornly stares over the water in front of them.

'It really is the perfect day to do that,' Scott finally says. Apparently he has decided he'll let Wayne get away with it this time. Or maybe it isn't like that. Maybe he decided that he'll allow Wayne the time he needs to sort out his thoughts before he can voice them. Maybe he understands that Wayne sometimes needs a while before he's ready to talk about things. Maybe he decided that he didn't want to intrude. Maybe he decided that he values spending time with Wayne, no matter if they're talking or sitting in silence. And maybe this fall will be a little less cold than the ones Wayne has gotten used to, because when he risks a glance towards his left, he sees Scott wearing a smile that's appreciative of the nature around them. It's a smile that warms Wayne from the inside, in a way that the heater in his trailer has never managed to do.

[queenshelby]

The Accident (Part One)

Pairing: Reader & Cillian Murphy

Warning: Accident, Child Birth, Abuse, Religious Themes

Thank you @blondie-22 for this amazing idea!

The streets of Dublin buzzed with life. Cars were honking, pedestrians chatting, and the distant sound of laughter echoing against the stone buildings.

As you navigated through the chaos to attend one of your medical appointments that day, your thoughts were cloaked in a heavy fog of fear and regret.

With each bump of the road, you felt the weight of your current situation settling deeper into your chest, an anchor pulling you down.

“Is this all there is to my life?” you muttered under your breath, the question steeped in resignation as you were pregnant again and due to deliver your second child. You had dreamed of freedom, laughter, and love, dreams that now felt like whispers of someone else’s life.

The cityscape blurred as you maneuverer through the crowded streets, a painful reminder of all you had sacrificed.

“What if I run away from all this?” you thought to yourself, but just as quickly as this thought appeared in your mind, fear clutched at your heart. “Was it even possible and, if it was, where would you go?” you questioned yourself. You weren’t even meant to be here, in this country and you had no insurance, no visa, no rights.

Suddenly, a blaring horn sliced through your contemplation.

Bam! The jarring collision jolted you as your car jerked to a halt. "Fuck!" you cursed as you gripped the steering wheel, a wave of pain radiating from your abdomen. A moment of shock enveloped you. You glanced up to see the other driver, a sharp-dressed man with striking blue eyes, scrambling out of his car.

“What the hell were you thinking?” you shouted, pushing the door open and stepping onto the asphalt, your heart racing. Every nerve in your body was tingling with adrenaline and distress.

His voice was raised over the noise of traffic. “I’m sorry! I was—” He ran a hand through his gray-streaked hair, obviously flustered. “I was distracted!”

“Distracted? By what?” you retorted, biting back your anger as the stranger looked down at your swollen stomach, not bothering to answer your question.

“Are you okay?” the stranger asked as he took a step closer, his eyes widening. "We should probably get you to a hospital," he said, seeing how you were at least seven or eight months pregnant. "You need to get checked out," he told you but you shook your head.

"That's not necessary, just give me your insurance details," you snapped, feeling no worse than you did earlier that day.

He hesitated, clearly conflicted. “Look, I’m really sorry,” he said, his voice softer now, the concern in his eyes apparent. “I will give you my insurance details, but I think you really need to get checked out because you are pregnant," you could hear the tremor in his voice.

“I am fine, but I am also in a rush, so can you just give me your details," you reiterated as frustrations poured out like a dam bursting.

“Please, I—” he began, but you cut him off, the rising pain in your abdomen drawing your focus. A tightening sensation gripped you, radiating outwards like ripples in a pond.

“Shit!” The breath left your lungs as what felt like an actual contraction surged through you. You doubled over slightly, clutching your belly, eyes wide with panic.

The stranger’s demeanor changed instantly. “I will call an ambulance," he announced, but you grasped his wrist and shook your head.

“No!” You spat out, rising back to your full height, anger battling with the pain. “No ambulance," you insisted, your voice strained. “I can’t...fuck," you cursed as, suddenly, you felt a pop inside, a desperate prelude to the reality settling in. You were going into labor—now, and fast.

“What do you mean, you can’t?” His voice was insistent. You caught a glimpse of genuine concern twisting with urgency in those piercing blue eyes.

"I mean I can't!" you shouted, throwing your hands up in frustration. “You have to help me!”

“Help you? How? I’m not—” he stammered, fumbling with his phone, glancing back and forth between you and the device as if it could conjure a solution as he watched your water break, your breaths coming out in labored breaths.

“Just focus, will you?” you snapped, the urgency in your tone stopping him mid-thought. “You hit me! You deal with it!”

"I am calling a fucking ambulance, if you like it or not," he insisted, the panic pushing through as he stepped closer again and guided you towards your car. “You need to stay calm,” he said, trying to exude a confidence he didn't quite feel. “Just breathe with me, okay?”

You snatched your gaze up to meet his and for a brief moment, the emotional chaos unfurled like a ribbon between you; there was fear, pain, and something that echoed with unspoken possibility. You swallowed hard, trying to chase away the rising tide of panic.

“Don’t you dare leave me alone” you started, but another layer of pain sliced through you, cutting off your protest as you watched the stranger call the ambulance.

"Yes, she is defiantly in labor. Corner of O'Connell and Abbey Street. You need to hurry!" he spoke into the phone, his voice steadying with purpose. As he hung up and turned back to you, determination flashed in his eyes.

"It hurts so fucking much," you gasped, gripping the side of your car for support. Your knees felt weak, and the pavement beneath you was cold and unforgiving.

"I know it does." There was a calmness in his voice as he moved closely again, scanning the alley around you. "Can you walk? We should get out of the street."

You nodded slowly, though every step felt like trudging through molasses. The tightness in your abdomen ebbed and flowed, and before you could respond, another wave of pain surged through you.

“Breathe, just breathe. In and out,” he instructed softly, eyes locked onto yours. “I’m Cillian, by the way.”

“Great, now we’re on a first-name basis, huh?” you retorted, but there was a small semblance of humor piercing through the tension.

"I am Y/N," you gasped as he guided you towards a nearby alley, away from the cacophony of the street. The shadows cast by the old buildings felt oddly comforting, a temporary sanctuary from the chaos outside.

"Y/N, listen to me," Cillian said, his voice steady despite the circumstances. "You’re strong. You can do this."

You let out a weak laugh as another contraction rolled through you, shoving down the warmth rising from the connection you felt in those words. "I’ve never been strong," you gasped, clutching your belly. “I’m just… scared.” The truth slipped out, raw and unguarded amidst the chaos.

"Being scared isn't such a bad thing," Cillian replied, his brow furrowed in concentration. "It just means you're about to do something incredible. Let’s focus on what we can control. Can you tell me what you feel?"

Another wave hit, harder this time, sending a shudder down your spine. "It feels like…I can't explain it," you stuttered, struggling to keep your composure. “Like I need to push," you shook your head, tears threatening to spill over. "I can’t do this here. Not here! Please… I can’t."

He took a deep breath, grounding himself amidst the turmoil. “Y/N, look at me. We don’t have a lot of time. If you need to push, let’s get you in a position that helps.” His voice was calm, but it bore an urgency that broke through your fear.

“What do you know about childbirth?!” you practically yelled as another contraction washed over you, not even sure why you were so mad—perhaps it was instinct, or the result of the situation spiraling out of your control.

“Not much, but I've done this before, about sixteen years ago, when my wife went into labor unexpectedly," he replied, pretending to be confident even in the face of your escalating panic. He was a good actor, that's for sure, and he knew that what you needed the most right now was someone who alluded to calmness.

"Alright, fuck! Let's do this," you gasped as you reached beneath your dress to remove your undergarments and reposition yourself against the cool brick wall of the alley.

Cillian knelt beside you, his presence steady and reassuring. With a few quick breaths, he murmured "push when you need to okay?"

You nodded, and with each contraction, you could feel the reality of what was happening. The walls of the alley faded, and all that existed were the sounds of your heavy breaths and the warmth of Cillian’s encouragement beside you.

“Y/N, you’re doing great,” he said, a note of admiration creeping into his voice. “Just keep breathing. I’m here, okay?”

“Okay…” you gasped, trying to focus on his voice rather than the overwhelming pain. The sharp, twisting sensations rolled through your body, and instinct took over. You pushed.

“Good! Just like that!” Cillian encouraged, eyes fixed on you.

You gritted your teeth, squeezing your eyes shut as you bore down, feeling the fire behind the pain intensifying. “Shit! This hurts!” you cried out, the sound echoing off the brick walls.

“I know, I know! Just a bit more, Y/N,” Cillian urged, his hands steadying you as you leaned against the wall, the coolness against your skin somewhat soothing. “This is it! You’re doing it! Keep pushing, you’re almost there!”

The tension in your body coiled tighter as the next wave came crashing in, and with a primal instinct, you pushed again, feeling a surge of energy mingled with agony. A strangled scream tore from your lips.

“Come on! Just a bit more!” Cillian’s voice broke through the chaos, a beacon of hope.

With each push, you could feel the world narrowing down to just you and this moment, this life you were about to bring into the world. Finally, with one last, gut-wrenching effort, the pressure exploded outward.

"I can feel the head I think," Cillian encouraged, his voice barely a whisper as he leaned closer, intense focus etched across his features. “You’re almost there, Y/N!”

You gasped, struggles ebbing into a wild, raw energy that pushed through the exhaustion. “I can’t… I can’t,” you cried out, tears pooling as the sense of impending life overwhelmed you.

“Yes, you can,” he coaxed, unwavering.

With a determined breath, you clutched at the cold brick wall, grounding yourself as the pain peaked again. You pushed. A shout echoed down the alley, raw and primal, fueled by an instinct far deeper than the immediate ache.

Cillian’s hands were there, ready, steady. “That’s it! One more strong push, Y/N!”

This was the moment you had been waiting for, the glimpse of a brighter future despite the past's shadows looming over you.

“Push!” His voice rose with urgency, pushing you along with him.

And then, with a final forceful cry, you pushed once more, feeling the world blur around you. Darkness crept in at the edges of your vision, but you could hear Cillian’s voice, vibrant and reinforcing amid the chaos.

“Breathe, Y/N! Breathe!” he urged, and somehow, that single command kept you anchored.

Suddenly, you felt it: the unmistakable release as your baby slipped into the world. A rush of warmth enveloped you, and for a moment, the pain faded into the background, replaced by a wave of power and wonder.

With a final surge of energy, you felt your daughter’s small body leave yours entirely. A loud wail pierced the alley, sharp and full of life, echoing off the walls like a celebratory shout. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your heart racing not just with pain but with overwhelming relief.

"You’ve done it!” Cillian exclaimed, his voice breaking as he gently cradled the newborn in his hands. “It’s a girl!”

Your heart swelled as you glanced at the tiny being. Tears streamed down your face, a mix of exhaustion and joy flooding through you.

Without words Cillian took off his jumper and wrapped her up in it, having instantly recognized the importance of warmth. “She’s beautiful,” he said, his voice brimming with awe. You marveled at Cillian in this moment, so focused and competent, a stark contrast to the chaos and fear you knew from the life you were trying to escape.

You then broke out in tears , the full weight of everything crashing over you. “I…I can’t believe I just did that,” you whispered, struggling to catch your breath.

Cillian knelt beside you, cradling the swaddled newborn in his arms. “You did," he said softly, his eyes bright with admiration. “And she seems pretty perfect.”

As you gently touched your daughter’s cheek, a warmth spread through you, a flicker of hope igniting in your heart. “What do I…what do I do now?” you asked, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

“First, let’s get you both some medical attention. I am sure the ambulance is on it's way and they will take you to the hospital." Cillian said but that was not what you were thinking about.

“No hospital,” you said firmly, your heart racing at the thought. It was an instinctive refusal, a protective urge that coursed through your veins.

“Y/N, you need to be checked out,” Cillian replied, his voice a mix of concern and insistence. “You just delivered a baby in an alley. You’re going to need care. For you and her.”

“No hospital,” you repeated but the wail of sirens echoed through the streets already, drawing closer. Relief washed over you despite the circumstances. You turned your gaze back to the baby cradled in Cillian’s arms, her little face turned towards you, tiny fists waving in the air.

“She’s so perfect,” you murmured, awe weaving through your voice.

“She is,” Cillian confirmed, his eyes sparkling with pride. “What are you going to call her?" he asked and you quickly responded.

“Mika.” The name slipped out of your mouth before you fully realized it was the one you had secretly cherished. “Mika… it means ‘new moon ,’” you whispered, hoping that with your second daughter having been born, you would find a way to new beginnings.

Cillian's gaze softened, understanding the significance. “A beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” he said gently just as the ambulance screeched to a halt at the mouth of the alley, its lights flashing an urgent dance of red and blue.

“See? Help is here,” Cillian said, glancing up as the paramedics jumped from the vehicle, faces serious but efficient.

You held your breath, part of you hesitant to let go of this moment—the intimacy of the alley, the fragile life cradled between you, and the bond you had formed with this stranger less than an hour ago. But reality swirled around you, heavy and looming.

“Okay,” you conceded, your voice barely a whisper. You took a shaky breath, rejuvenated by a flicker of spirit. “I’ll go with them to get checked out," you told Cillian who seemed instantly please.

“Good,” Cillian said, a small smile breaking through the worry etched on his face.

The paramedics approached, two women with kind but focused expressions, as you shifted from Cillian to their care. One of them knelt beside you, her tone warm and reassuring. “Hi there! You did such an amazing job. Let’s see that little one,” she said, her hands expertly taking Mika into her arms before turning to you, “and let’s make sure you’re feeling alright too.”

Cillian stepped back slightly, allowing the paramedics to assist. “It was nice meeting you Y/N,” he said, the pride and relief in his eyes shining through before he asked the paramedics which hospital they were taking you to.

You glanced up at him, the weight of everything beating hard in your chest. “Thank you, Cillian,” you said softly, ache filling your voice as you realized how much more than just a stranger he had been to you in the chaos. "I couldn't have done it without you," you said and Cillian held your gaze, his blue eyes flickering with an intensity you couldn’t quite understand.

“You did everything, Y/N. I just happened to be there,” he replied, his tone earnest and protective. "I will visit you and Mika at the hospital later if that's okay," he then added, his words filled with genuine concern.

"Really?" you asked, a mix of surprise and gratitude washing over you. It felt strange to have someone who cared, especially after everything you had endured.

"Of course. I want to make sure you both are okay," he nodded, his expression serious.

The paramedic gently placed Mika into your arms, a fresh wave of overwhelming emotion coursing through you as you cradled her. She was so small, so fragile, and full of life. “You’ll be okay, little one,” you whispered, tears brimming again as you gazed down at her while the stranger quietly disappeared from the scene, attending some matters relating the accident as police too arrived and began to take statements from those involved and you wondered whether you would ever see him again.

"It's not every day an Oscar winner delivers your child now, is it?" one of the paramedics said teasingly after Cillian had disappeared and you did not know what she was talking about.

"What do you mean?" you asked she was already helping you into the ambulance with Mika swaddled close to your chest.

“Cillian Murphy? The guy who just helped you deliver your daughter," the paramedic explained, her voice tinged with excitement. “He’s a big deal around here. You're lucky!"

You blinked, momentarily stunned but didn't really care. You haven't watched a movie in years, and you most certainly did not feel lucky about the situation you were in.

Your life was a mess. It was awful and complicated, but as you sat in the ambulance, the warmth of Mika against you felt like the first tender thread pulling you from the darkness.

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22

[usedtobecooler]

dropping monday 14/08…

this must be the place

eddie munson x steve harrington x afab!reader

summary: the summer of 1985 is only just beginning when a trip to scoops ahoy! unlocks some deeply hidden feelings you have swirling in your stomach for steve harrington. eddie munson won't let you live it down, and maybe that’s due to his own feelings too, but a chance encounter on a hot night at lovers lake sends you all down a rabbit hole you could never of prepared for.

content warnings: 18+ only minors dni, sexual content (threesome, piv sex, oral sex, dirty talk, van sex), porn with plot, eddie and reader are fwbs with feelings, gentle bullying and banter, eddie is canonically queer, mentions of past king!steve, brief homophobia mentions, a heartfelt conversation. feelings are felt on all three sides, if you don't like it look away <3 reader isn't explicitly described as alt/goth but it's implied.

sneak peek below the cut

You watch curiously as the Harrington charm working it’s magic right in front of your very eyes, Steve steps in close to Linda, brushes a loose curl back — Jesus Christ, why was that doing something for you — and says something you can’t make out, but it’s enough to have Linda blushing and pulling nervously on the hem of her denim shorts.

Why were you jealous?

The telltale noise of an obnoxiously loud horn beeping lets you — and probably the entire neighbourhood — know Eddie had arrived to pick you up, snapping you completely out of your daydream. Your lips curl up into a smirk when both Linda and Steve jump ten feet at the sound, Steve rolling his eyes and scoffing.

What a bitch.

Eddie catches you looking from your window and lets out an obnoxious laugh, grinning up at you with his annoyingly perfect teeth. You wanted to punch him, maybe, but Friday nights were for one thing and one thing only, and that was getting high at Lovers Lake in the flatbed of the van.

So it’d have to wait until you didn’t need him for the weed or the ride.

Summer meant the pretty sunset as a backdrop whilst you smoked the day's events away — it somehow made everything that little bit more relaxing, watching the swirls of orange, pink and purple melt together as your brain fogged with the drugs, a nice settling in your tummy as your high took over.

It was second only to the heavy September rain that you loved so much, you found yourself yearning for it all year around. The loud patter of the large droplets clinking on the tin roof of Eddie’s van, buried under a nest of blankets to keep the cool chill off your arms and legs. Eddie’s hot breath fanning over your neck as he kissed it, chest heavy against your back. Warm, solid and comforting.

Maybe you were in love with him, or maybe you weren’t. You didn’t want to think too much about that.

You glide out of the house as quietly as you can muster, not wanting to arouse suspicion about where you were going. Even in your twenties, your parents would still have a few choice words for you in regards to Eddie Munson, and you were in no mood for the lecture. You’d heard it too many times in the years you’d known him, since fifth grade when he pushed you in the playground and you pulled his hair in retaliation.

From that moment on you were inseparable, to the dismay of your parents.

You’re aware of two other sets of eyes watching you from across the street as you bounce down the driveway, all smiles as excitement thrums through your entire body. Eddie’s maybe looking at you like you hung the fucking moon or something, but that’s probably to do with the fact you’re wearing his shirt and looking the epitome of hot.

Okay, maybe you had a complex.

“So that’s where my shirt went,” Eddie hums, giving you an appreciative once-over as you wrench the passenger door open with a horrific sounding crunch of metal, “looks better on you, I’ve gotta say.”

You clamber into the van with a huff, laughter spilling into it, “Yeah, yeah. You don’t need to woo me, Munson. We’re gonna fuck anyway, don’t worry.”

Eddie laughs loud and so fucking obnoxious, as if for somebody else’s entertainment, and it does catch the attention of the lovebirds on the other side of the road. You look over just as Steve catches your eyes, and suddenly your chest feels kind of heavy as he stares at you with a kind of intensity that you can’t put a finger on.

“Take a fuckin’ picture, Harrington,” Eddie cackles, head basically out the fucking window and he’s grinning at them both, snapping you completely out of it, “that’s as close as you’re getting to her, count your lucky stars.”

Eddie and Steve weren’t friends. In fact quite the opposite. Steve and Tommy were miserable assholes for years, made Eddie’s life hell at any given turn unless they needed him for drugs.

You think back, and truthfully the turning point was during Junior year. Steve had tripped Eddie in the hall, called him ‘queer’. Eddie didn’t stand for that, sucker punched Steve right in the jaw, hard enough that his skull hit the locker adjacent to him.

“That shit might hurt you when your daddy calls you it, but you’ve gotta do a lot worse than call me exactly what I am as an insult, Harrington.” Eddie had grinned, vicious and seething, as he watched Steve clutch desperately at his bruised jaw, wide eyed and hair askew from the force.

Steve never bothered Eddie again after that.

In fact, not long after, Steve never bothered anybody again. Maybe the knock to the head had quite literally knocked some sense into him, or something.

“You good?” Eddie’s voice, his large hand gripping your thigh knocks you back into reality, out of the daydream, and the grounding is enough to have your entire body melting into the simple touch.

[itsalwaysteatimeinwonderland]

Finding Peace Pt.3: Dance With Me (Spike x Y/N)

Request: No. Part 3 of the Multi fic.

Synopsis: Being a cursed slayer is hard. Harder when a vampire won't just leave you alone.

TW: None.

Word Count: 1.2k

Previous | Next

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Sun has set and the air is thick with fog. It’s eerily quiet in the cemetery. Not a creature to disturb the atmosphere. Inside the crypt there permeated a different energy.

Heavy sighs and lustful laughs can be heard. The sound of passionate kissing and groping is evident in the quiet of the night. Spike held you close to him on the sofa. Like a predator that caught his prey. You sighed in his mouth as you melded in a fiery storm of desire. His hands roamed your upper back, trying to unclasp your bra. You didn’t protest. Everything was going well. Too well. You came out for air. Heavy eye contact was made. As if you could communicate your deepest desires with one look.

As Spike was ready to go in for another round of erotic contact a loud noise was heard. He looked up but nothing was there. Another thud nearer still. He felt in a haze. As if something was amiss. As he looks back down at you, you disappear. His dream is broken. He wakes up with a gasp. Another dreaded dream of the cursed slayer. He felt surprised that his attention had shifted so suddenly to the new slayer. His heart still belonged to Buffy, or at least that’s what he liked to believe. However, these heavy sensual dreams were more frequent as of late.

Outside y/n roamed the cemetery, hacking away at heavy foliage near the wooded area. Another night out on the hunt. If it could stop, that would be an improvement to y/n's life. Being cursed to hunt demons for over 1,000 years is less of a privilege and more of a punishment. The world may be safe, but y/n loses her grip on reality. Every day is the same. Wake up, go to work, wait till the sun sets and hunt. Everything was the same with a little twist, this time around. Spike being the lemon to her lemonade. She regarded him as an equal, someone that she enjoyed being around, but the lord knows he was bad for her. With his British accent, bravado and underlying poet heart. She had met many like him, but he had a spark to him. A light that others missed. She hadn’t seen him since their slow dance. You could say that tonight her hunt was partially focused on finding him again.  

The cemetery was empty, quiet. The fog gave it an eerie ambiance. Y/n was guarded and ready for a fight. No, hoping for a fight. A crack in the distance catches her attention. She walks closer, hoping to encounter a demon. She pounces on a bush, wrestles with a branch or two to find nothing. A bunny on its way to its hide out.

"Attacking critters, are we?" A smug voice called from behind.

Y/n whips her head around to find him, leaning on a tombstone. She made a mental note of how ridiculously big the tombstone was. She feigned annoyance.

"You can never be too sure in the Hellmouth. What are you up to in this cryptic place." She brushed off the twigs and leaves that gathered in her hair.

"Vampire plus cemetery equals home."

She felt dumb. "Oh right, god forbid you find somewhere that doesn't smell like death"

"I like to call it musk." He grinned and walked closer. He fiddled with her hair, pulling the remaining twigs out of it. "Are we hunting tonight, cursed slayer?"

She snatched her hair back. "It’s just slayer and yes. I heard that a big demon was hiding out here. You didn't see a skinny little rascal full of horns and pointy teeth, did ya?"

"The description paints a picture but none that I’ve seen. Why not entertain yourself with some vampires while you wait?"

"No can do. That's Buffy's territory. I just hunt demons now a days.”

Spike raises his eyebrows, incredulous. “A retired slayer?"

"No, to loop back to your original point, I’m a cursed slayer. Part of the ordeal is that I can't kill vampires and they can't kill me. So we're eternally stuck with each other. Poetic, ain't it?" Y/n makes a face of defeat.

Spike takes a breath, processing what you just said. He is thoroughly amused by your circumstances. Enthralled with the idea that you can't hurt him and he can’t hurt you. Equals.

He proceeds to laugh after a pause. "You're pathetic."

"Super rude." She pushes past him. She regrets seeking him out. Of course, regardless of how she feels about him, he is still evil.

He reaches back for her only to miss her hand. The slight touch sending shivers down his spine. What a nit he has been. If she were like Buffy, she would’ve bantered with him. Picked a fight. Y/n is much less tolerant of his teasing.

Y/n walks with purpose deeper into the cemetery woods in search of the demon. Spike follows her.

"What do you want Spike? Let me be pathetic in peace." She's angry and hurt.

This is why you don't share about your curse. It makes you feel defective, useless. She thought.

He steps in front of you, hands up in a defensive stance. "I’m sorry. I didn't mean it as an insult"

You laugh. "How else am I supposed to take it?"

"I’m not used to people taking what I say to heart. I was expecting an insult back."

"Yes, please make fun of my suffering. I just love being eternal. If you’re looking for a fight, go somewhere else. Now move, this pathetic cursed slayer still has work to do."

As you walk away, he beats himself up internally. What a fucking idiot he's being. How can he reach out to you if he's too busy pushing you away? So, he follows you again without a word.

Screeching is heard from a couple of miles away. A pained scream from an unknown being. There's a clearing in the woods and an animal is seen thrashing and fighting for its life. Y/n crouches low, eyes on the demon feeding on the animal.

"That our guy?" Spike sneaks behind you.

You don't answer. You pull a sword from a sheath strapped to your back. You're ready.

You go in fast with a big swing. You miss by a small margin. The demon confronts you and you go at it. His slim form permits him to be agile while you're slightly slowed down by your weapon.

Frustrated, Spike gets tired of being on the sidelines. "Mind if I cut in." He slugs the demon unexpectedly.

The demon stumbles and before he can get his bearings you slice into the demon’s chest cavity. The demon screams out in pain. His body slumps with a disgusting thud.

"That was easy." Spike smirked.

You're frustrated with him for insulting you and the even more for cutting in. It was clear that coming out tonight was a mistake. You turn around and start to storm off, sword in hand. You hated how overly sensitive you felt around Spike. He was just another vampire. So, why were you so hurt by him?

"Wait..." Spike begs.

You swing your sword and place it inches away from his face. He steadies.

"I liked our dance the other night. It felt right. Can we do it again sometime?"

"Are you gonna insult me again?"

Spike pondered it. He liked getting under her skin. "Not unless it turns you on."

You laughed, you couldn't help it. This dolt of a vampire had you in a chokehold and you didn't know why.

"Do you know how to waltz?" She asked.

Spike grimaced. "A bit uppity for my taste but I'll do it." He pushes your sword away and steps closer "But only for you."

[thewriterg]

𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥

pairing(s); tom holland x fem!reader, sub!tom x dom!reader

summary; Tom hadn’t been to a costume party since he was in college but thanks to his brother Harry he’s broken his record but the actor quite say he regret making a deal with the devil —kinktober day; 21—

word count; 1.5k

warning(s); SMUT, spanking, face riding, oral (f receiving), tail job?, edging, kisses, pet names, and language

playlist; glory box by portishead

A/n:—GIFs; @ffckedup & @erensbitch— It’s kink mf tober

“Oh fuck you Harry” Tom muttered watching the banquet come into his view and suddenly his urge to crawl up into a ball and have his driver that was made to sure he entered the establishment by his dear brother of course take him back home while he inched closer to the party it was VIP, invite, and celebs only but the didn’t seem to make the brunette go jump off a cliff any less

If anything it could make the urge stronger

“Is there a problem Mr Holland?” The chauffeur questioned as he opened the brunettes door a little underlying urge to his voice and the actor took the hint stepping out of the black Porsche patting the man on his suit covered shoulder shaking his head with a small smile

“No, thank you” Suddenly not really so for the suit secure on his toned body not expecting the familiar white flashing lights shoved into his face as multiple questions were thrown his way he tight lipped the pap before getting rushed into the building flashing changing colored lights and blaring music taking over his senses and he heard different greetings from all over the place

“Spidey!”

“Oh Tom hi!”

“Is that the real suit man!?”

it was definitely college nostalgia to say the least

He smiled and waved at all of who he could making his way toward the bar a whiskey on the rocks imbedded in his mind greatly he had been mingling for less than twenty minutes and he already wanted to leave the least he could do is indulge in a little drink to treat himself for not already crawling under a rock

“Need a drink?” Tom heard a voice directly by his ear and when he turned to his head to look at the direction of sound just to turn around and find nothing before he reset to his usual position you were in front of him horns coming from your forehead your eyes crimson fangs peaking through as you spoke

“Pretty boy can’t handle loud noises and flashing lights?” You questioned lowly a teasing underlying tone thick on your tongue as you took a glass from the counter setting a cube in the glass and pouring Jack Daniels in the glass passing it to the brunette swiftly

“That’s cute, well aren’t you adorable” He hummed before taking a swallow of the bitter liquid falling into his mouth and down his throat eyebrows furrowing when he looked up from his glass and you weren’t there in front of him like you were

“Willing to make a deal with the devil Tommy?” You hummed in the actors ear making him shiver his mouth agape at the sudden change his eyes darting from behind the counter back towards where you’re standing now his heartbeat staring to beat a bit faster

“I-I um, guess I’ll roll that dice” He whispered before jumping in his seat as something wrapped around his leg before retreating and looked down to see a very realistic looking tail swinging back and forth at his feet before you were walking away a dramatic sway in your hips

“That one’s a looker who’s your designer? Woah where you going darling?” Tom was out of his seat following after you dodging dancing bodies until the music was dying down in his ears the lights no longer flashing in his eyes the actor felt a fog take over him clouding his senses until he was somewhere he completely didn’t recognize

“Gonna ask you one more time, willing to make a deal with the devil” He could see you fully now his head spinning his sense fully clouded of you his pupils dilated and his control felt compelled to you

“Whatever you want.. Miss whatever you want” He uttered dropping to his knees in front of you while your tail swayed against the back of your calves while you circled the brunette your heels clicking against the floor before you took a seat behind him your head tilting at the sight of his toned back

“You’ve done this before?” You interrogate him not moving from your position on the end of the giant bed frame while pressing a heel on the surface of his back pushing him to all fours while he goes down without a protest

“Yes mam” You hummed in response he’s obedient and pure with just with a little dark underlying it was… refreshing to say the least

“Go across the room strip I want everything off and then, crawl back to me” The brunette scurried away and he thanked the years of rushing in and out of the suit all over the world while he heard you heels against the floor the sound imbedded in his mind while crouching back down to his knees slowly returning to the spot he once was this time his carved face looking up into yours with those doe brown eyes filled with just about zero thoughts, jaw sharp enough to cut a sheet of glass, and the slight bump on his nose that would hit the spot

“You’ve ever been punished Tommy?” You whispered and he felt the presence of your tail against him again this time a thousand more times pleasurable causing him to let out an uncontrollable moan slipping from his lips his cheeks heating up tinting a soft pink before he could open his mouth for a response something whipped down on his lower back and the crack of his ass a whimper tangling in the brunettes tongue his curls sticking to his forehead

“I asked you a question” You hissed patience wearing blatantly thin

“Yes miss I have” He winced at the crop coming back down on his ass the sting subtle at first before cracking a burning punch and it continues tears brought to his eyes dripping onto the floor his backside battered and bruised and the actor knew sitting down would be a challenge for the next few days to come

“You think you should apologize for your manners pup?” You come into his view now only in a set of black lace that didn’t cover much he could feel himself salivating in his mouth

“Yes, please let me I’ll make it right I swear- I’ll do anythin-” He quiets at the look of you hand in the air aiding him to stop your presence demanding attention and affection God by the looks of it to Tom you deserve to be prayed to a temple built directly off of your body You slip down the pair of underwear your cunt bared to him while you took striding steps towards his frame and the pale boy took a small second to dart out his tongue to wet his lips before you hovering directly over his face like a dog with a bone

“Look at you finally learning being a real good boy, stay, stay, eat.” You hummed as he dived into your clit at your call his tongue dipping into you fold collecting the build up of arousal and your hand slithers up to his head and into his hair pulling and tugging roughly causing Tom to whine coyly the vibrations shooting up your spleen causing you to close your thighs on his head a borderline pornographic moan spilling from you while your rolled you hips against his face the bump in his nose hitting your clotting causing your hips to stutter

Toms hips suddenly bucked up into nothing a muffled groan that would’ve shook the room otherwise coming from his throat your tail wrapped around his cock stroking him the same pace he was stroking your clit with his tongue and the brunette began to come to the realization that it really wasn’t a prosthetic as he circled your clit flattening his tongue against your bundle of nerves while you hissed in pleasure your knees shaking on either side of his head he takes this time to finally attack your bud like a shark in a pool with a drop of blood and your eyes snap open while you let out a scream your coating rushing down to Tom’s tongue dribbling down his chin while he lapped up all the juices he scientifically could and then some the action riding you through your high almost putting you into overstimulation until you finally lift up your knees a little wobbly and your stance a little more slouched and the look you explain on the man’s face is drunk to say the least

You smirk while he whines your tail coming of his flushed cock his release slipping through his fingers like sand

“Didn’t think it’d be that easy did you?”

©2023 thewriterg spooktober do not copy, translate, or modify.

[orion-somethings]

Alright time for me to go on a sorta huge ramble about if the Ice Chapter was an Analog Horror. I poured all of my ideas for it into a google doc, but I’m only going to be talking about the characters like the villagers, Vex, and of course The Ice Emperor.

TW: Self Canalbalism, Violence, Death, Dark themes

So people in the Neverealm usually wear clothes with fur and insolation to keep their bodies warm. Which is good and all! One thing I noticed is that we don’t really see animals that much other than wolves and a bear. Here’s what can happen: Since it’s winter and most animals hibernate during that time, there would be a low supply in food, fish being the only source. The people would most likely starve or look like it. Their arms and legs would get skinnier, their skin turning pale from the climate. Death isn’t as common but happens more than usual. Some people have missing fingers because… well you got to eat to survive don’t you?

Sicknesses are really common from drinking water with bacteria by not putting it over a fire(too hard to make one) to kill it. People rarely have energy from the scarce food supplies. It just feels like a ghost town.

Now for Vex and the Ice Emperor:

Vex

Right so Vex would be in the same condition of the Villagers with pale skin and thin limbs (little thicker in the legs due to him following I.E. everywhere he goes. He has more access to food because I like to imagine that Grimfax had a big stash of food in the castle since he was y’know the ruler before Zane took over. His nails are sharp and uncut because that doesn’t really matter when you have more important things to do. His voice is really hoarse from talking to I.E. all the time and telling the soldiers what to do. Vex’s mustache is not only frozen but tangled to shit. Bro constantly gets hypothermia from being near I.E., has bags under his eyes from not sleeping…. Like at all. Has blurry vision.

Ice emperor

Ok I.E.’s turn to be Analog Horror’d: This man’s armor and body would have so much rust and cracks from not getting check ups and maintenance. His body is held up mostly by ice. Everything that makes him look human is just gone.. His hands look like claws made out of Ice, huge horns of Ice on his helmet that legit make him look like an oni.

Cold fog leaks out of his mask every time he breathes. He rarely talks and just makes low groaning noises. Since parts of his body are damaged and Vex started to take notice of it, he went back to the cave that he found Zane in and started to just rip metal off of the mech that got banished with him and just… put them on him??? I.E. basically looks like if he had a magnet on him and like just a lot of metal came flying to him and stuck on him like a cartoon. Speaking about his armor, it’s just covered in dried blood from the people he has killed. He also just loves the sounds of bones snapping, it’s like ASMR to him.

Oh y’know the Ice samurai that are made of Ice?? Yeah, I.E. will gather bones or corpses from the people has killed and make them into ice soldiers sooo

And One question I’m going to get is: How would this be an analog horror if there are no cameras in the NeverRealm? I like to think in the Mech that Zane got teleported with had an old camera in it just in case of emergencies.

One of the Villagers is hunting and ends up finding the mech in the ice cave and finds the camera, learns how to use it and documents his journeys through video footage or pictures of what he finds!