#jesus fucking christ his confidence will kill me

[radioactive-cloud]

i'm having so many feeling rn

source: x

[thefreakandthehair]

smooth operator

written for ‘hole’ | wc: 404 | rated: m | cw: n/a @steddiemicrofic

Crowd-work is Eddie Munson’s favorite part of stand-up. It’s actually become a niche of sorts, and tonight is no different.

“Something I’ve noticed in my time fucking men,” Eddie leads with, strolling across the makeshift stage, “is that you can tell how hot a guy is by how he takes off his shirt.”

The audience chuckles collectively.

“Don’t look at me like that, you know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about. We’ve all seen movies. You, in the navy blue,” Eddie gestures with his chin at a man sitting at a hightop with two girls. “You’re a good-lookin’ guy. Let’s see if you’re hot. Show us how you take your shirt off.”

Without hesitating, Blue Shirt stands up and in one swift motion, grabs the back of his shirt with one hand and tugs it off over what Eddie tries not to think is perfectly soft, perfectly messy copper locks. Turns out, it’s easy to not think about his hair, because every rational and coherent thought he’s ever had about anything comes to a screeching halt.

It kills his set because that’s not the Hot Guy Method he’s been referring to but there’s not a chance in cold, dark Hell he can stand on stage and lie in front of this cheering, clapping audience. This guy is fucking hot.

“Oh my God,” he says in the microphone as Blue Shirt shrugs and flushes, just a hint of pink crawling from the hollow of his throat to his cheeks. “That’s never worked before. That’s never worked. I did not— wow, I did not see that coming.”

The crowd continues to laugh and applaud, Blue Shirt sitting confidently on his barstool with his shirt still in hand. Motherfucker doesn’t even have the decency to put it back on so Eddie can move on.

He’s really dug himself a fucking hole with this one, huh?

“Jesus H. Christ, I meant to do the motion. And that’s— listen, that wasn’t the hot way I meant but for the first time ever, audience, I admit defeat. I don’t know what the Hell just happened, but that’s the hot way now.”

Blue Shirt raises his glass and fucking winks at him, before calling out in response. “Buy me a drink after the show and I’ll show you the hot way to take off a belt, too.” 

Eddie’s jaw falls open and Blue Shirt wiggles his eyebrows with a smirk. 

author's note: sometimes, you see a video of a stand-up comedian and drop literally everything you're doing to make it about your blorbos. this is one such time. @henderdads @steddieasitgoes it’s here!

[larphis]

These episodes really took a dark turn. I‘m equally as amazed as I am terrified.

The fact that Stede‘s innocence died in such a drastic way the moment that he killed Ned honestly just blew my mind.

Like, my man got TURNED ON by finally being able to kill. He even killed that second guy afterwards with the cigar like it was fucking nothing. He even got so much false confidence that he thought he could overthrow Zheng when it was more than obvious that he had no chance at any point.

And imagine how terrifying that has to be for Ed? The soft man he once loved so dearly has turned into exactly what he himself has tried so hard to get rid off - only that HE clearly enjoys himself being that way.

Stede basically BRAGS to Ed about everything he has done, as if Ed hadn’t cleary shown how terrible and guilty he feels about all of his gruesome raids as Blackbeard.

I don‘t think Stede is a bad person at all but Jesus Christ, David Jenkins, get your man back on track, he‘s seriously scaring me.

[beababoobies]

Oh my stars so I saw your post for Hazbin hotel requests can I PLEASE get a reader w Sir Pentious who is low-key jealous of his crush on cherry but he ends up getting w reader in the end?

I would love you forever 🙏

yurp, I gotchu. I love cherpentious with my entire heart but anything for y’all 🫡

edit : THERE IS NOW A PART TWO!

Somethin’ Stupid - Sir Pentious

words : 1.77k, slight warning for ep 6 stuffs

God, this fucking sucked. 

Cherri, who was - and you don’t mean to be direct, or self-loathing - downright fucking gorgeous, had been bribed to take you all out to a bar - well no, that wasn’t the exact instructions, but it was clear enough that Charlie didn’t expect much more from her. So here you were, slouched back on a vodka-stained couch in the corner of this bar, Husk lounging beside you while Nifty giggled and played with his fur, and your oh so beloved Sir Pentious across from you. 

You kicked back another shot of whatever Angel had brought to you, pretending to find whatever Husk had just said funny (you were far too caught up in the way Sir Pentious was goo goo eyeing a certain Cherri Bomb.) and Husk spoke up, eyebrows furrowed. 

“What’s up your ass today, kid?” He said flatly with a swig of his beer, raising one of his eyebrows as you finally snapped your attention back to him, trying to smile non-chalantly as you watched your beloved little drunken ball of insecurity slither towards Cherri again from the corner of your eye. “ ‘ts nuthin, Husk. Leave it.” You say with an annoyed sigh as you watch Pentious stumble over his words to an annoyed and unimpressed Cherri. 

“- I’M HAVING SSSSEX WITH EVERYONE HERE!” He turns around and yells, which has both Nifty, Angel, and Husk snap their heads around with wide eyes. He gives you a sad look and you try to give him a reassuring one. That is until he gets dragged into a separate room, and you inhale sharply through your teeth, wincing at the way he screams before the door is shut properly. Cherri doesn’t even look like she cares. 

“Ah.” Husk says flatly, catching your attention again. “Should’ve guessed after your fuckin’ ramble last night. ‘But Husk he doesn’t even know I’m here!’ and all those fuckin’ ‘I’ve been here longer than he has and he won’t even talk to me!‘s. he’s just nervous around you, like he is with Cherri. Fucker has some self-confidence issues. Just do it already.” He says, looking almost annoyed as you flushed deep and slapped your hand over his mouth, which he quickly swatted away. 

“Shh! Jesus fucking Christ Husk, not so loud! Fuck!” You grumble as Angel giggles with a hand over his mouth from the other end of the booth, before taking another small sip of his cocktail. “Not a secret, toots.” He says with his casually shit-eating grin, gesturing to a very drunk Nifty who was giggling now too, nodding her head. Great. 

“Sometimes, when I’m out killing the bugs that think they’re all sneaky, and gross and cool at night, I walk past your room and you’re listening to super bad romance music. Which scares the bugs away and makes them surrender their lives. Which like, it’s supposed to be a fight! You’re ruining all the fun… ” She adds the last part with a annoyed grumble, but despite her unbelievably drunken state, she’s still speaking fast, high-pitched, and with the exact same creepy undertones. “And I walk past that bad boys room and he’s all rehearsing romance poetry he wrote. It’s so bad! Ehehe!” 

She giggles out, eyes falling on a bug on the floor, hopping quickly off of Husker’s head and falling face first onto the floor, before quickly picking herself back up and running after it. “Shit.” Angel groans, putting his cocktail down quickly and shuffling out of the booth. “I’m gonna make sure she doesn’t end up with some creep.” He grits out through his teeth, before disappearing into the crowd with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’d better help him out.” Husk says with a sigh as well as he placed his beer bottle down carefully, pulling himself up with a groan.

He turns back to you for a second, just looking over his shoulder, before smiling. “You should start considering the possibility of Cherri being a distraction.” He says, humming softly before he adds one last thing. “Please do check in on the awkward fucker though, I don’t know what kind of shit he’s got stuffed in him or is stuffing at the fuckin moment.” Husk says with a sigh, disappearing right into the ground of flashing lights and bumping bodies right after Angel. 

You took the last courage swig of your drink and stood up, doing a little tipsy stretch as you got up, before dejectedly walking over to where a very, very exhausted Sir Pentious was sitting, hyperventilating and sweaty. You let out a soft sigh as you walked over, kneeling in front of him and taking his hands away from his face, holding them softly in your hands, looking up at him with furrowed brows and concern.

“Hey Pentious, that was a lot wasn’t it?” You say softly and he nods, refusing to make eye contact with you. He looks grossed out, ashamed, everything. You let out a soft sigh and rub small circles into the back of his palm with your thumb, doing your best to comfort him in the loud and overstimulating bar scene. 

“They were very kind - I jusssst, kept ssssssaying yessss. I don’t know why.” He says softly, and you nod, standing up and helping him up too. “Let’s get you back to the hotel, ‘Kay? You can take a nice hot shower and go to bed.” You reassure quietly and he finally looks up from the ground, smiling at you quickly before nodding, but as soon as Angel catches his gaze again, he’s out of your grips and right back to focusing on Cherri. You grimace softly as you watch him rush up to angel and ask where Cherri is. You watch as he groans in defeat as she goes into another room with a random guy. 

Some part of you feels happy, relieved of some jealousy. Another part of you feels bad. That was all he was doing the entire night, trying to get her attention. You shook it off and walked over to where everyone had re-grouped, giving them a tired wave, and getting one in return. You let out a small gasp as you saw the dried blood from Angels’ nose all the way down or his lip, his new black eye. 

“Oh dear, what happened?” You cooed softly, reaching up to wipe some of the blood of his face, and he softly moved away, shaking his head in a polite ‘thank you, but not right now’ way, and you nodded. “It was just a run-in with Val.” He says with a sigh, wiping another fresh stream of blood from his other nostril onto the back of his hand. “Let’s get going - I’ll tell you when we’re back at the hotel, Toots.” 

An unceremonious end to the night; but not exactly the end to yours. Even when you got back, debriefing everything that happened with Husk and Angel while Nifty snored on the couch and Pentious took a shower, even when you had finally wished them a good night and made your bed, sighing as you let your head fall to your pillow, you couldn’t stop thinking about what happened with him. What Husk had said. 

“You should start considering the possibility of Cherri being a distraction.”

You repeated it in your head for hours while you tried to think about anything else, scrolling on your phone aimlessly through Hellflix, InstaScam, Crime Video, even YouCrude - there was no one to e-stalk, no new shows for you to binge, not even something you wanted to re-watch. No new uploads from your faves - just an endless amount of scrolling. 

Until about 3 a.m.

That’s when you heard it - shaky, nearly silent sobs from Pentious’s room, small sniffles. You checked the time, sighed, threw a shitty pair of smiley-face PJ pants Charlie had made for you on, and slumped over to his bedroom, knocking softly on his door. It went dead silent, not a mouse, no the small clinking or squishing of Nifty’s bug-killing sewing needle. 

“Who issss it?” He said in a shaky, tired, raw voice, and your heart absolutely melted, hand against the doorknob as you spoke. “It’s me, Pentious. I just heard you - uh - being sad. I know I’m not your favourite, but can I come in?” You say with a soft sigh, running your fingers through your hair tiredly. It takes him a minute and a soft hiccup before he rasps out a small “pleasssse, y-yeah.” And you open the door.

What you find is absolutely heartbreaking. Your favourite little serpent, curled in on himself, hugging his tail to himself, eyes red with tears that fall softly down his face, hat resting on his old worn down dresser, angry and frustrated swipes if his claws leaving him on top of torn up bedsheets and pillows, and you nearly cry with him right then and there. This sweet man who has been nothing but a pure angel, stuck with all the sinners, including yourself, down here. 

You walked over to him, sitting beside him on his bed, hearing the old mattress frame squeak softly as you sat down, putting your hand on his, gently cooing him until he took big, deep breaths, gently and encouragingly rubbing circles back into the palm of his hand.

“Tell me, what’s up? I’m all -“ you start confidently, being cut off by an annoyed but desperate call from Pentious himself, pulling his hand away from yours and groaning into his palms, shaking his head. “that ISSSSS the problem! You’re the problem-  you’re so pretty I can’t think sssstraight around you! And now you think I hate you!” He cries out, looking at you with desperate eyes, like he wants you to say something - anything, really. But you really can’t.

You’re completely frozen, hand frozen in mid air when it was going to rest on his shoulder to comfort him, eyes wife, lips pierced together and all you can do is stare at him like some stupid idiot. You are at a mental battle of grabbing his face and kissing him until you can’t breathe or slowly talking it out. He sighs dejectedly.

“I want to get closssser to you. Wanted to be your friend, at leassst. But… then I’d go and ssssspoil it all by ssssaying ssssomething sssstupid like…” he stops for a second, swallowing thickly. “…I love you.” He looks up at you again, nearly desperate for an answer. You finally get some words out of your closed up throat -

“I love you.” 

~

Frank + Nancy Sinatra My Beloveds <;3

[chungledown-bimothy]

Top 5 DM Brennan is "broken" / "ruined"?

Thank you!

no, thank you for giving me a chance to remember all of these <3 (I'm not sorry for how acoc-heavy this is. Brennan threw down the gauntlet and they kept beating his ass with it. Also a lot of axmurph, and I think that's neat.)

1- I cast Knock on the door. Literally made Brennan make the surprised pikachu face, and the energy Murph brought to it. There was so much confidence to it. (Also, like number 3, when has Knock ever been that useful?)

2- Operation Slippery Puppet. Brennan's words were, I believe, "Jesus Christ, I'm ruined".

3- Liam's Detect Poison and Disease. When has that spell EVER been actually useful, let alone to the extent that it was there?

4- Can I use Swirlwarden to try to get up into the boat? Even if that hadn't been a homebrewed item, it would have been sick as hell, but it was.

5- Saccharina at Buzzybrooke. The whole fucking thing. Emily was sent from hell to kill Brennan, and he let her have spells.

Honorable mention: I have four Moxie, so I can't fail. Because it made Brennan surprise pikachu again.

[jenna-ortega]

Whiskey Burn

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Mean Joel, P in V, fingering, dubcon?(not rlly), angst, joels a real dickhead

Word Count: 1.8K

Dark brown eyes getting darker with every lie dripping from his tongue.

Lying about where he’s been, where he’s going, who he’s been with. He keeps you close enough to pleasure, but never close enough to please.

You couldn’t pinpoint when your feelings changed, when his feelings changed. Had you been the fool all along? Had you been the prey begging, hoping, praying to change the predator who was hopeless to begin with?

Loving Joel came natural to you. Sucking in air and feeling your stomach drop with every glance he gave you, knowing you were coming into this Jackson bar looking for him...you wouldn’t admit it though. Walking over to the bar top, settling down across the bar, making sure Joel could see you in the outfit you knew he’d kill you for wearing.

“Any whiskey ya got, on the rocks...please” you ordered your drink, dragging your eyes up at Joel as he scoffed at your order. You don’t even like whiskey, but the pain of that burn was better than the pain Joel had been causing you.

             ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m asking because you can’t keep fucking with my head, Joel.” you pleaded to the somber man in front of you.

“Jesus Christ, girl. Startin’ with me when you know it ain’t never got you anywhere.” his words echoed. The shake of his head as he walked past you could cut a thousand wounds into you.

He stood at the edge of his bedroom door, turning only to throw your shirt into your chest.

“Get dressed, y/n. I don’t got time for your tantrums today.” turning on his heel out the bedroom door, your voice calls him back...

“So that’s it, huh? Fuck me for months, practically force me to move in, and never open up to me?” screaming loud enough for all of Jackson to hear, you’d had enough. This was your breaking point.

The look in his eyes as he takes menacing steps towards you had you cowering, the confidence you once thought you had slipped away as Joel’s tall figure looks down at you, bumping your chest until you were slammed up against the wall. The air being rushed out of your lungs as both his arms caged you in beside your head.

His right hand snakes down underneath your chin to force your eyes up at his blown out brown ones,

“Darlin...” the country twang in his voice drowning out any other noise threatening to break through his four walls.

“Darlin...funny how you never seem to complain when you’re havin’ at it on my cock.”

Fuck. The foulness of his truth had tears threatening to fall from your eyes. He knows you’d have nothing to say to that. Knows how much you enjoy yourself with him.

“And for as you put it...forcin’ you to move in with me, why don’t ya take your shit nd’ bring your attitude back to your own place, sweetheart.” Joel backed away from you, his boots shaking the floor as he practically ran out of his room.

“I’ve got other business to attend to, and it don’t include a crybaby ruinin’ my day.”

              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That’s where you’d left off with Joel the day before. Crying as you gathered all you could and brought it to the place you were originally staying in Jackson. It felt desolate, a place you didn’t recognize.

That same night, sleeping without Joel felt better than you expected. Fuck that guy. You were worth more than some middle aged man using you as a his own personal masturbation toy. Even though you’d gotten closer to Ellie while you were sharing his space, leaving was the right thing to do. She’d understand. She was the one begging you to try and pry emotions out of Joel.

“y/n, I know he really cares about you. You should ask him if he’s ready to finally let the town know you guys are together!”

Memories of her words flicker back into your head. Please...like that’d ever happen. Joel made sure to never show any PDA while out with you, and always avoided questions about you, even when asked by family.

Patrolling with Joel and his brother one day proved that to be true...

“Glad to see someone’s keeping my brother young” Tommy joked as you walked beside Joel, feeling him distance himself from you,

“Let’s focus on clearing this building huh Tommy” he didn’t look at you. Kept walking ahead, leaving Tommy behind him to match your path as you walked. Tommy looked at you with a kind smile, a sort of apology for bringing it up. He could see how much Joel’s nonchalant, cold attitude towards you in that moment knocked you on your feet emotionally.

But he’d made up for it that night by fucking you stupid against his flimsy mattress. And you secretly hoped that’s what this encounter would turn into. His eyes bore into you from across the bar as you laughed and flirted with the bartender. Liam. How would it make him feel to see someone else scoop up the woman he’s been too much of a bitch to claim.

“Liam...gosh you are just sooooo strong!” you reached for his left forearm, squeezing and giggling as he blushed. He poured you another glass, sliding it towards you,

“This ones on the house, gorgeous” he winked at you, and you couldn’t help but feel those same butterflies in your stomach you felt just a few months ago. Except this guy is definitely your age, and definitely your type.

Your mind clouded as you took the first sip of your new drink, not aware of the angry grey haired man that made it his mission to make sure you had no happiness if you were in his proximity.

The drink spilled from your lips and down your dress as big warm hands grabbed at your elbow, dragging you up and out of your seat, throwing you against the bar. Your eyes wide and weary, staring at the 5′11 man who’s nostrils were flaring in front of you.

His heavy breathing was heard first, then the gruff tone of his voice

“What the hell do you think you’re doing y/n?”

Joel’s brown eyes throwing daggers at you. The pressure of which he’s holding your elbow has you wincing and trying squirm out of his grip, but to no avail.

“I’m enjoying a nice cocktail...i should say was enjoying now that you’ve gone and spilled it all over me you fucking prick.” your voice growling on the tail end of your sentence.

Joel’s eyes watch the bartender scurry to the opposite end of the bar, knowing to keep his distance from the one and only Joel Miller.

His eyes darting back down to you as he lets go of arm to sneak his hand around the base of your neck, grabbing and pushing you in front of him.

“Well then darlin’, how ‘bout I help you clean your act up. Lookin’ like the town slut here in my bar.” his lips get close to your ear as he speaks, still pushing you by your skull closer to the bathroom.

You fight him gently as he manhandles you into the bathroom, throwing you in and locking the door behind him.

“Wow, Miller...didn’t expect such a public display of emotion for me” you tease, smiling at the man in front of you who’s about ready to rip your clothes off your body and maim you for the world to see.

As those words leave your mouth, you see the corner of his lip twist up, eyes lightening as he lets out an amused laugh. “Oh. You are treading on some mighty thin ice” he threatens. He continues, not letting you get a word in after,

“That’s what this is? you think you can teach old Joel a lesson or somethin’?” he moves closer to you, gripping your sides as he walks you as far back as the porcelain sink that is now digging into your back. A painful gasp leaves your lips...

“Listen here, girl.” his hands dig harder into your hips, lips trailing down till you feel his breath against your ear,

“You don’t get to control me.” his grip on your hips loosens just to spin you around so you’re now staring at yourself and him up against you in the bathroom mirror, porcelain still causing pain, now to your stomach.

He leans you over, your face colliding with the mirror. One of his hands held in your hair and the other scratching at your thigh to lift your dress to your hips, bundling the fabric up till your black thong is the only thing he sees.

“I’m gonna enjoy putting you back in your place, baby girl.”

You want to say you expected this level of anger from Joel, but as you felt him rip your thong to the side and shove 2 digits inside of you without warning, you knew you fucked up. 

A light moan left your lips as he pumped his index and middle finger inside of you, using his thumb to lightly rub circles against your clit.

“Joel, fuck...please” you begged, but for what you didn’t know.

He let go of your face, opting to place that hand in your hair instead, pulling you slightly up to face yourself in the mirror. Forcing you to watch yourself come undone on his fingers...

“Aww” his eyes met yours in the mirror, smiling as you dripped onto his fingers, pushing yourself back to take as much of him as you could.

“A shame you’re only sweet when I’m fuckin’ the attitude out of ya’“ you whine as he removes his fingers from you, also letting go of your hair.

You hold onto the sink bent over, turning back to see him unbuckling his belt. Your eyes find the spot he’s trapped in, going wide as you watch him begin to stroke himself out of his jeans,

“Joel, I’m sorry, please, please fuc-”

You were cut off by a hard slap to your ass, the sound echoing off the walls...that’s going to leave a mark

“Fucking you was gon’ happen with or without the pleading, darlin’”

Your stomach dropped as your felt him grab your hips, lining himself up with you before ruthlessly pushing inside of you without warning,

“Got’damn” he moaned behind you as he set a harsh snapping pace, grabbing your hips back as leverage,

You felt him everywhere, the bruises forming on your skin were him, the smell of whiskey filled your senses, fuck you’d have to wash this dress now.

Sounds of Joel grunting behind you made you smile, the feeling of being stretched by him over and over and over had your head swirling, barely being able to breathe through the moans Joel was pulling from you.

His pace begins to quiver, brutally snapping into you chasing his own high as you feel your legs become mush, only being help up by the force of his grip. His thrusts becoming sharp as he pulls completely out of you to force himself back into you, growling lowly from above you

“Don’t hear..” snap...”you complainin’...” snap...”from up here now”..snap

You practically scream as his thrusts push you against the mirror yet again, feeling the harsh glass on your forehead as Joel doesn’t let you move.

“Please...please i’m gonna cum, Joel”

He’s holding you up as your legs give, moaning and blabbering as you feel yourself begin to let go, closing your eyes tight and then....

You feel empty, Joel pulling out of you and letting go of your hips. Watching you fall to the ground, jello legs not stable enough to keep you up.

You look up at the brown eyed man, stroking himself as you’re still trying to process what’s happening.

You reach for him, hoping to feel his touch, feel any type of warmth from him, but he just steps back, rushing to the porcelain sink which you’d grown all too familiar with in these past few minutes,

“Joel?” you question, watching as he paints the sink with his release, moaning as he’s holding onto the side, biting his bottom lip as his head falls back and his eyes close. “Fuck”

You watched as he came back down, frown permanently plastered to on face.

He finally turned to you as he pushed himself back into his jeans, buckling his belt securely,

“What?” he smirked down at you, his intimidating eyes forcing you to sit up and adjust your disheveled dress.

“Now,”... “you know s’well as I know” he walks to the bathroom door, unlocking it and turning back to you,

“Crybabies don’t get to cum.”

[ohmymalice]

just thinking of VGHS!Schlatt and his shenanigans in other competitons he's had against you.

He smiles everytime you kill him, his team mates would yell at him for being stupid enough to let himself die to you just to see your face (and to see how hot you look while holding a gun)

"Jesus fucking christ Schlatt!!" Ted screams as he shoves their team captain. Schlatt just smiles like a highschool girl in front the bright red screen showing "YOU DIED" and the count down of how long it'll take for him to respawn

"I know you have this whole.. Weird fucking thing with Y/n but I don't wanna lose again, I already bet half my money to some dweeb that we'd win."

Schlatt scoffs at Ted, gripping his mouse as he respawns.

"Maybe get better at the fuckin' game Ted, then you can tell me what to do. Don't get your panties in a damn twist, we'll win." He said confidently right as you quick scoped him.

Ted groans in frustration, his head in his hands.

"I'm begging you please set aside your stupid crush on her for once." Ted said as he looked at his load out, trying to get more grenades.

"I don't fuckin' like her for the last time! I just like toyin' with 'er." (Goddamn someone cue TOP TEN BIGGEST FUCKING LIES!!!!)

[shmothman]

Confessional

Pairing: Wolfwood & Reader, Vash/Reader Rating: Explicit (for language and discussion of explicit topics) Words: 773 Tags: gender neutral reader, Wolfwood's stupid portable confessional, trigun 98, reader has a crush on Vash and thinks it's unrequited, Wolfwood is my best friend who makes me want to punch him in the face A/N: this isn't really crack but it sure is stupid!

“You’re brooding,” Wolfwood says, coming to lean against the siding of the building next to you.

You shoot him an annoyed glance. “I'm not brooding.”

He plows forward like he didn’t hear you. “It’s about needle-noggin, ain’t it?”

“No,” you lie, “it’s not.” It’s not about him, or the way you wish he felt even an ounce of what you feel for him, or the way he was so close to you last night while he was drunk and now is keeping a careful distance. It’s not about any of that. Of course it’s not.

“It’d probably help if you confessed your sins,” he says, pulling out that damn ‘portable confessional’ with a shit-eating grin that makes you roll your eyes at the best of times—and now just makes you scoff.

“Yeah,” you reply with biting sarcasm, “I’m sure it would.”

“Come on,” he says, grinning wider. “You know you want to.”

“Not a single part of me wants that, Nic. I don’t even know the however-many-sins-there-are.”

“Seven,” he supplies helpfully, ticking them off on his fingers: “pride, sloth, greed, gluttony, wrath, envy, and—“ he winks at you— “lust.”

You laugh, incredulous. “Right. Okay. You know what? Fuck it.” 

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise as you snatch the confessional from his hands, putting it over your head and crossing your arms over your chest. If he’s gonna be an ass, you’re gonna make him regret it. 

“You wanna hear me confess my fuckin’ sins, Nicholas? Here: hey, father, I’ve been lustful as hell! I can’t even look in his general direction without getting horny! I can’t stop thinking about making out with him, and every time he pulls a trigger I think about his fingers inside me! I wanna fuck him six ways to sunday, in every position imaginable, over and over again until neither of us can walk for days!!” You can’t see his face right now, but you hope you’re making it as red as yours feels—though, damn him, it does feel good to confess this shit to somebody. Even if that somebody is Wolfwood. “I am lustful every minute of every goddamn day, and especially every minute of the night. And, hey, Isn’t masturbation a sin? I’m super guilty of that one. Like super guilty. Like every night guilty. He so much as smiles at me and I’m gonna jack off about it. I want to ride him like a goddamn Tomas, and you know what? I’m so in love with him, it hurts!”

…Well, you’ve sort of lost the plot, now. And you’re feeling much less confident than you were ten seconds ago. You pull the stupid box off your head and hold it back out to Wolfwood, jaw set and face flushed. 

His eyebrows are still sky-high, but he doesn’t quite look like you’ve embarrassed him… just yourself.

“There,” you say with finality. “That’s my confession.”

“Hi guys!” the voice behind you makes the blood drain from your face. Come on. You feel the warmth of him as he comes up behind you—you feel his presence, like you always do. “What’s up?” Vash asks.

Wolfwood’s eyes dart to you, then up to meet Vash’s gaze as he grins predatorily. “Oh, they were just telling me something really funny.” He cocks his head at you, and you want to wipe that damn smile right off his face. “Hey, why don’t you tell Vash what you just told me?”

You’re going to kill him. You’re actually going to kill him. Glaring daggers, you do your best to make your tone cheerful, though it sounds forced even to your own ear. 

“Oh, it really wasn’t that funny!”

“Sure it was,” Wolfwood says, smug as all hell. “Made me laugh, anyhow.”

You grind your teeth.

“I’m sure it was funny, I wanna hear it!” Vash says, and Jesus Christ, why did you ever open your mouth?

“Yeah, he wants to hear it,” Nicholas taunts.

You take a deep breath. “Oh! Hey, uh, I just remembered that Meryl and Milly need me for—um—something! Gotta run!”

With one final death glare thrown Wolfwood’s way, you turn on your heel, pointedly not looking at Vash as you make your completely un-smooth exit—you can’t let him see the way your face is burning.

God. Wolfwood’s never gonna let you live this one down.

Vash frowns as you leave, sure that he’s stepped into something, but not sure what. “What was so funny, Wolfwood?”

Nicholas claps him on the shoulder, the portable confessional set down on the ground. “Believe me,” he says, slipping a cigarette between his lips. “You’re gonna wanna hear it from them.”

[meetinginsamarra]

mayprompts2024 #17, chaos

Read parts 1-12 on AO3 here

Part 13 only on tumblr so far

++++++

The Perfect Place - Part Fourteen

Sherlock had morphed into a stalagmite, standing frozen on the spot, unable to do anything about the chaos that would undoubtebly ensue after John had opened the door of the fridge.

John’s piercing shriek had also pierced Sherlock’s ears and cut deeply into his brain.

Great, you utter, utter, stupid arse! How could you forget about this? Now John who has been so far so accepting of all of your quirks and weirdnesses will think you are an insane cannibalistic murderer and he will run to the hills immediately. Sherlock berated himself. All you’ve achieved so far has been in vain. You’ve cocked everything up. Everything!

“There’s a head in the fridge!” John called out. He had involuntarily jumped backwards and away from the fridge, leaving the door wide open.

“John, I…”

“A severed human head!”

John’s eyes moved to and fro like someone watching a tennis match. From looking at the head that resided on a chipped porcelain platter with a colourful and corny floral design on it to looking at Sherlock who had taken on a similar complexion like the dead head (bloodless and grey-ish). Then back again to the head (checking if it was still there and not some PTSD-related hallucination) and then back again to Sherlock (checking if he was still there and not some PTSD-related hallucination).

“It’s not what you think, I…”

“You stored a fucking severed human head in your fucking fridge like a fucking cannibal and nearly gave me a fucking heart attack you absolute fucking madman! You could have given me a fucking warning, you know? Jesus fucking Christ!” John panted heavily as if he had just run a marathon.

Sherlock’s face displayed a stunning and drastic change of colour within the three seconds of John’s rant. From grey deathly white pale to hot pink burning red.

(The reason for this was that Sherlock’s brain had switched into semipermeable word pattern recognition and now suffered from input overload.)

(Meaning that Sherlock had tuned out all of John’s words apart from “fucking”. His eyes were glued on John’s lips that repeatedly formed the fucking word and the Mind Palace ignited with the blaze of a nuclear explosion.)

Sherlock jumped forward and slammed the door of the fridge shut, turned around and barricaded the door with his back, now facing John who had recovered from the shock but still gaped at Sherlock in disbelief.

“Is this the rest of the flatmate-candidate you've spoken about?” John asked.

“No, he’s not.” Sherlock babbled. “It’s for an experiment…”

“You severed someone else’s head then for this experiment of yours?” John lectured sternly, “That’s a bit not good, you know?”

(Due to the current thick clouds of smoke from the burning Mind Palace, Sherlock missed the tiny twitch in John’s right corner of the mouth.)

“What? No! I mean, yes! I know that it’s not good to kill people,” Sherlock started sweating.

John advanced slowly until he stood just one foot away from Sherlock who pressed his back even harder against the fridge’s door.

“Did you use the Turkish scimitar to decapitate him? You can tell me all about it!”

“I didn’t kill him, John! Really! Or anybody. Ever.”

John leant forward and whispered into Sherlock’s (lobster-red and firy-hot) ear. “You can confide in me. I’ll treat it as a case of doctor’s confidentiality.”

Sherlock’s heart pounded like the drums of a marching band. (A very big marching band.)

“It’s not what it looks like.” He said weakly.

John put his hands on Sherlock’s shoulders and pushed them softly against the fridge. He kept whispering, bringing his mouth so close now that his lips brushed against Sherlock’s ear lobe.

“I know that, of course. But seeing you all flustered and freaking out like this is really funny.”

“What?” Sherlock gasped. “You didn’t… You!”

John retreated his face and Sherlock was already loathe to lose the delicious contact of John’s lips.

“I’m a doctor, I can see when someone died of a lead poisoning and was decapitated post-mortem. You should have seen your face!" John started laughing out loud.

Sherlock regained his composure admiraby quickly, feigning indignance and feeling insulted. He pouted (the child-like moue made John laugh even more) and replied petulantly. “I could have administered the poison to kill him.”

John looked Sherlock into the eyes, stating calmly, “No, you haven’t.”

Sherlock leant forward to get closer to John’s delectable lips and breathed, “No, I haven’t.”

John bridged the gap and his lips touched Sherlock’s, light as a butterfly’s wing.

“Yoo Hoo!” The voice of an elderly woman suddenly called from the sitting-room. “Boys, are you in the kitchen?”

As if struck by lightning, Sherlock and John jumped away from each other, landing awkwardly to the left and right side of the frigde, fiddling with their hands and both sporting beet-red faces. Sherlock coughed and John cleared his throat.

A nice and frail looking old lady entered the kitchen, beaming at John. “Oh, hello, my dear.” Turning to Sherlock, she said, “Won’t you introduce me?”

“This is my landlady Martha Hudson,” Sherlock croaked, “and this is…”

“Dr. John Watson of the Fifth Northumberland Fuseliers, pleased to meet you.” John felt that he needed to impress the landlady so he adopted his military stance and saluted smartly.

“Oh, you’re a dashing young man, aren’t you?” She chuckled, clearly delighted.

(Not only Mrs. Hudson was impressed though. Sherlock was very much impressed as well and made a mental note to ask John about his military uniform.)

Mrs Hudson looked from Sherlock to John and back to Sherlock. A knowing smile formed on her face.

“I can see why you like him, Sherlock. He’s right up your street.”

Both men averted their eyes, quickly looking elsewhere. Sherlock felt his head turning red for the umpteenth time (wondering if he would ever regain his normal complexion) while John was terribly interested in a blue spot on the ceiling. Both remained silent.

“Oh, you silly boys, don’t be so shy!” Mrs Hudson grinned. “Will John be your new flatmate, Sherlock?”

Sherlock locked his eyes on John’s face. “I don’t know. Will you?”

John stared right back. “Yes, of course. With pleasure if you’ll have me.”

Sherlock beamed all over his face.

“There’s a second bedroom upstairs, if you’ll be needing two.” Mrs Hudson winked at John.

Sherlock chimed in. “I don’t know. Will we be needing two?”

“No, I think your bedroom will be the perfect place to sleep in. Now that you’ve bought the king-size bed, right?”

They engaged in a heated session of lecherous eye-sex.

Mrs Hudson groaned impatiently. “Boys, just kiss already!”

So they did.

It would have been very rude to not follow the old lady’s bidding, wouldn’t it?

🛏🛏🛏🛏🛏THE END🛏🛏🛏🛏🛏

+++++

The Bed Shop Boys say goodbye and will be very busy with testing the Royal Metropolis Deluxe once it is delivered to 221b.

Thank you all for reading, commenting and liking this AU. I had a lot of fun with writing these silly funny cringy scenes!

+++++

tagging some people @calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @lisbeth-kk @peanitbear  @raina-at

[fanfic-corner]

Lesser Known Destiel Fics pt 2

Hi everyone! Here's the second part of Destiel fics which have fewer than 5,000 hits. I hope you enjoy them!

Once a Day by followthattardis (2.4k)

Castiel has just enough control left over his body and mind that he steps into the Ma’lak Box on his own.

L’Oréal Féria 1-Step Lightening System for Men by gayliens (2.5k)

His hair had been the same since he was eleven, a tight almost-buzz on the sides, a little longer on the top. Brown, unassuming, military-issue. Never long enough to fall in his eyes, not like whatever Sam had going on on that head of his. His face had been changed by thirty-something years of slicing and dicing, aging out of those delicate features. If he dropped dead now on the bathroom floor, the coroner wouldn’t call him pretty. But his hair stayed Ken-Doll-identical all the way through.

or: dean fucks up dying his hair. cas helps

Rinse, Repeat by Ias (3.3k)

He's killed Dean hundreds of times. What's one more?

Extra Sauce by anomalation (3.4k)

Cas confides in a poor unfortunate McDonald's cashier, who is a little shit and makes Dean jealous to prove a point. Nothing but fluff and gritty fast food realism.

Mary Winchester, Lesbian at Large by alectolee (4.2k)

Mary Winchester is a lesbian. She has no idea how to tell her children.

The Passion of the Christ (and his angelic ex-boyfriend) by Bzzee (4.9k)

Dean and Cas are happy in heaven until Cas's ex-boyfriend saunters in. Dean discovers you can be jealous in heaven and that, apparently, Jesus fucks.

New All Over Again by Castielslostwings (5.7k)

Dean and Cas as childhood sweethearts separated as teenagers who have been searching for each other for years without success. Against all odds, they reunite in the middle of Times Square at midnight on New Year’s Eve.

preaching to the choir by piesexuality (7.9k)

“So, tell us—are you a religious man?”

Steve grimaces. "It's, um. Complicated. Very complicated."

or, There's no way Castiel lived that close to BYU-Idaho without running into some Mormon missionaries.

Speak Silence No More by rea_of_sunshine (8k)

When Dean imagined this moment, it went like this:

Dean bursts into the Empty—guns blazing, chin high, righteous anger coursing through him. No matter what form his plans and fantasies and whiskey-drunk-whispered-promises took, he is always, always successful. When he imagined it, he was finally the hero Cas deserved.

The reality of the moment is this:

It’s fucking cold.

Veil by evol_love (8.1k)

Not that Ed keeps tabs on anyone from his past life as a paranormal investigator, but he’s about 99% sure he heard through the grapevine that Dean Winchester fucking died, so getting a text from him on a random Thursday inviting him to his wedding is in the top ten weirdest moments of his life. And that’s really saying something. Ed’s had weirder weird moments than most.

His first instinct is No, absolutely fucking not, why on earth did you even invite me we’re not friends and we haven’t spoken in six years, but. But.

Maybe he misses the weird a little.

the pie isn't a metaphor (it's just pie) by noviembre (9.3k)

“I watched the Garden of Eden grow out of the desert,” Cas informs him. “And I’ve read everything Stacy has written on Bumbling Bee Gardener dot net. But please, Dean, share your wisdom about apple horticulture.”

Every Road Leads To You by songbvrd (9.9k)

When Cas gets poisoned by a djinn and is unable to be woken, Dean gets sent into his head to wake him up.

While Dean is expecting something that's hard to pull Cas from, he never expected to find Cas married with kids and a dog.

Dean has to confront what all this means to him and Cas has to decide whether to stay or go.

Won't You Stay? by allmystars (18k)

A week before Christmas, a weekend with his brother, and a hike into the mountains shouldn’t change a single thing about Dean Winchester’s life. It’s just a trip, just to distract Sam from everything he’s lost.

But, when a blizzard blows in, stranding the Winchesters, Sam finds a crack in the rock-face, and everything changes.

A pit, and pain, and every broken thing inside Dean, discovered by angels.

Well, one angel. One powerless, exiled angel.

Angel Recovery Project by keylimepie (20k)

An ordinary woman attempts a very extraordinary spell and brings back the wrong angel. But he's here and he needs help, from sandwiches to love advice, so what else is a girl to do?

5 Times a Member of Team Free Will Kills John Winchester and the 1 Time he is Kicked out of Heaven by bisexualsharks & Hazloveshisboo & jeremycarver (21k)

The 5 times different members of TFW (and a few others) got the chance to murder John Winchester, and the 1 time he was kicked out of Heaven because it was too late to kill him.

These are all separate one-shots that are not connected or set in the same timeline.

No need for dreaming by AsphodeleSauvage (24k)

Castiel loves his job as a wedding photographer. He loves nothing more than to capture the pure love in a couple's eyes as they say 'yes' - soulmates or not soulmates, he doesn't care. Yet, he can't help wondering about his own soulmate and about the mark on his chest that promises him a love story for the ages. There is also the fact that he keeps bumping into the charming Dean Winchester at every wedding he goes to...

A Hard-Won Peace by patheticfangirl (28k)

“Afterlife” no longer means forgetting what happened during life.

In Heaven, Dean is tormented by peace and freedom until he reunites with an also-struggling Castiel. Together, they work through issues they couldn’t leave behind, hoping to find something resembling happiness.

Diagonally Parked in a Parallel Universe by TheBlackLagoon (37k)

Cas Novak can’t see an escape from the life of hunting. Even with the frequent pleas from Jessica to leave it all behind, where in the world is he supposed to fit in? Dean Winchester can’t see a life beyond pencil-pushing for the Men of Letter’s Midwest branch. Even with the responsibility he holds to upkeep his family name, is it really what he’s meant to do? The two duos meet on what appears to be an easy salt and burn but which quickly spirals out of control.

Just for the Holidays by Fallen_Angel_Meg (41k)

After going through some tough times, Jess, Castiel's best friend, decides the best thing for him to do is to get away for Christmas. She secretly signs up their shared house on a home exchange website and it doesn't take long for them to get some interest. Castiel ends up trading houses with Sam Winchester, despite his hesitations to do so. So now Castiel has to spend his Christmas alone in Lawrence, Kansas. Which isn't so bad because Castiel is looking for some alone time right now, not wanting to get romantically involved with anyone. That is, until he meets Dean Winchester and things get complicated.

And that's it! If you have any other fics with under 5k hits that you love — whether they be your own or your friend's — please share them with me! Often these fics are swept under the rug when the authors put so much time and effort into them, so I hope you enjoy reading them :)

[jujutsukatsuki]

Hahah Armin Brainrot amirite?

Just imagining Armin watching your face as he slowly slips his cock in, feeling how wet and warm your cunt is. How his breath gets stuck in his throat as he has to keep himself calm otherwise he will for sure cum right then.

Armin legit has to bite his lip so he doesn't make a loud noise as he fully bottoms out, his cheeks flushed a gentle pink.

"A-Ah, y-youre so tight." His breath fanned over your face as his eyes screwed shut. "M'not, youre just big." You mumble into his ear as your hands grasp onto the skin of his back.

Armin when he finally gains confidence tho? Yall are in for a world of pain and pleasure.

"God princess. You feel so good wrapped around my cock." He grunted as the tip of his cock kissed your cervix making your cunt flutter around him, trying to suck him deeper. He chuckled making his chest rumble as he looked down at you with lust blown eyes.

Imagining Armin gets mean during sex too? Like god damn sir, are you trying to kill me?

"Look at you. a pretty little cock slut. Whose pussy is this?" He smirked "Y-yours." You whispered, eyes nearly crossing from the way his cock rubbed against the soft walls of your cunt. "Whose?!" He snaps and grabs yours face tightly in his hand "Yours daddy! Yours i swear!" You whine, pussy fluttering around Armin.

A heavenly grunt pulled from his lips before he snickered.

“Open your stupid mouth slut." Armin watched as you did as he asked

"Good girl." He stuck two fingers into your mouth. His fingertips lightly stroked your tongue, coating them in salvia before he slowly pushed them down your throat, you gagged as they slipped deeper and deeper until he couldn't push them anymore. You gagged and out of natural instinct tried to pull back.

"Hey!" He snapped “You take it like a good whore."

You slowly relaxed your throat

"Thats a good girl, stick out your tongue."

You stuck your tongue out, letting his fingers have more room.

"Good girl, very good girl."

He whispered before his assault on your pussy was brutal.

The tip of Armin's cock was bruising your cervix as his hips snapped against yours. He used his free hand to lightly pinch your clit, making your cunt tighten around him.

"Jesus fucking christ. Yeah. good girl. gonna breed this cunt of mine. gonna fuck you whenever I want, understand? Good girl."

He snapped his hips a few more times into yours, he could feel you were close by how tight you were clenching and how much you were squirming. Fat tears rolled down your cheeks as you could feel the coil ready to snap.

"Let it go. Cum for daddy like a. good. fucking. whore." With each snap of his hips, he enunciated his words.

You sobbed around his fingers as you squirted, soaking his lower abdomen, his cock, your thighs and the bed sheet underneath you.

"Gonna let daddy cum inside you princess" He smirked, you nodded as another sob was muffled by his fingers. Armin thrusted in deep, head of his dick pressed tight against the wall of your cervix.

Armin panted and took his fingers from your mouth.

“Good girl, you did such a good job baby." He kissed your forehead before looking at the mess on your thighs. Armin leaned down and lick some of your squirt off.

He smirked "Tastes amazing. I think you need to clean daddy up, think you can do that?"

You nodded and slowly sat up, body vibrating from the after waves of pleasure. Armin helped you to your knees on the floor as he stood in front of you.

You finally got a good look at the mess. his pale skin glistened in the lighting of your bedroom, your squirt had drenched him pretty good. His cock was wet with your cum and his cum, leaving a creamy white ring around it at the base.

"You better get to work baby. And if i see even a drop of my cum leak from my cunt. I'll spank that pretty ass raw. Understood?" Armin smirked once again, eyes seemingly even darker with lust.

Armin brainrot, teehee

[tragidean]

we really shouldn’t be doing this [17.1k] (ao3)

It doesn’t work.

Two hand jobs over a three-hour period and a newfound case of carpal tunnel later, and Castiel glares at Dean from across the kitchen table, like all of this is his fault. If anything, he deserves a medal for getting Castiel off as many times as he could on little to no sleep. Coffee doesn’t help; part of him wonders if a shot of adrenaline would, but the resulting crash would only send him right back where he started, leaving him with the only alternative—

Awkward breakfast conversations.

“I can’t believe you called her,” Dean mutters into his French toast. Castiel continues to stare at him, the furrowed lines in his brow threatening to become permanent. “Some things are private, Cas.”

“And it’s not working.” Castiel rubs his temples. The sleeves of his robe—a similar one, the fabric light blue instead of Dean’s gray—slides down his arms, revealing his wrists and the fingers Dean wants to feel on his tongue. “No matter how often we try, I’m still…” He lowers his voice. “I’m still aroused.”

Dean sighs and sets his fork down. “No, man, I… I get it. I mean, I don’t get it, but I…” Just stop talking. “I need coffee. You want coffee?”

“You have coffee.” Castiel grabs his wrist before he can make it to his feet. “Is this a chore to you?”

“What?” Dean fights to pull his hand away, but Castiel holds him still, his scowl growing even deeper. “Why would you think…”

“Dean,” Castiel says, and—of course he would think that. At the first sign of confrontation, Dean always attempts to deflect and avoid the conversation. This is no different—except now, it directly involves him, and he can’t escape. “You know I enjoy our talks.”

“Jesus Christ.” Kill me, kill me now. He hides behind his hands in the hopes that when he opens his eyes, that Castiel will be gone. No such luck. “Look, it’s… Do you think this is a mistake?”

Smooth, Winchester.

Castiel leans back in his chair, his hands sliding until they fall off the table and into his lap. Botox couldn't cure the creases in his forehead, now. “Are you doubting yourself?”

“No, I’m…” A breath. He runs his fingers through his hair. “We just got you back, man. I just got you back, and it’s… It’s been a hell of a few months, and now, we’ve just had sex three times in the last, what, four hours?” He laughs and shakes his head. “I don’t fuck on the first date, Cas. In fact, I haven’t fucked anyone at all in a while.”

Castiel’s glare eases as something dawns, something Dean doesn’t want to even think about. Life has a habit of slamming into him like a Mack truck, though. “You want this to mean something.”

“Yeah.” Dean bows his head. “Sex is… It’s always been an escape to me, a way to just… forget about the bullshit. For an hour or two, the hunts, Sam, my dad’s fucking voice in my head… none of it matters. But it’s never meant anything, y’know?” He scrubs his jaw. “I just got you back, and I… I don’t wanna lose you again, not because of some stupid curse.”

“Dean.” This time when Castiel says his name, it’s soft, imploring. He takes Dean’s hand, his palm still damp but his fingers so gentle, so kind. He presses Dean’s knuckles to his lips, and Dean’s heart threatens to burst. “Can I confide in you?”

Dean nods.

continue reading on ao3

[thecameronchronicles]

Little Black Dress

TW: Smut. Language. Public teasing. Public(ish) sex. 

SUMMARY: A specific dress leads Drew to prove that you belong to only him. 

WORD COUNT:

*Requested*

Little Black Dress

From the moment you crossed the threshold into the club, all eyes magnetized to you. You originally thought it had been because of Drew and the rest of the Outer Banks cast who couldn't step foot anywhere without being recognized. But they all knew that it had been because of a little black dress wrapped at mercy around your frame as your curves were on display for your all to view. And yet, you only wore it for his attention, which you had since the minute you left the bedroom with it on. 

As the boys all moved to the bar to get drinks, Madelyn and you led the charge to dance. Carlacia and Madison followed in suit as you became lost in the tempo and the euphoric carelessness that came whenever you danced. 

It didn't even take to the chorus of the club beat for Drew to notice how preying eyes targeted you girls. Always protective of the things he loves, Drew altered from his happy-go-lucky persona to one of an alpha male as he stood on the perimeter of the dance floor as if he had been your personal security. Arms crossed as some statement of dominance, you noticed this while ignoring the other gazes admiring the effort you put into yourself for him. Wanting to ease and also torture him to some extent, you focused on moving your body sensually. Turning and bending to catch his focus, it was a quick success that was not only noticed by him however. 

"I like what I see…" A voice called over your shoulder as you would ignore it and focus solely on Drew. But it didn't seem to matter if you had been polite, ignorant, or forward, the voice voice your back continued. 

"Don't be a tease, baby-" 

"Nobody calls her baby but me, get lost." Drew challenged as he was suddenly at your back, seemingly like the speed of light as you had only taken your eyes off of him to correct the brazen man at your back. 

"I knew this dress was trouble…" He explained as you wrapped your hands over his shoulders and allowed them to sit at rest in the comfort you always felt with him. And yet, just beneath this comfort, came a desire to always have his touch, his kiss, and in every instance prior-his release. 

This was because the way he touched you was intoxicating while his kisses left you breathless and that imminent release was always followed by a satisfying numbness of satsation. And right now, beneath the lights of the club, the confidence brought to you by this dress, and his body pressed into yours, nothing else mattered but you two. 

"Don't give me that look…" He warned as you deepened your sultry gaze, pushing even harder against him while feeling his fingers grip desperately into your skin. 

"Or we will have to leave before we start something…" You turned against him, craning your hand behind his neck while grinding against him just enough to feel his erection at full attention at your back. 

But your descent continued lower still. At least it had until Drew took hold of your wrist and led you off of the dancefloor and to the hallways just out of the public view. Even though this corridor was frequented by those in need of a restroom or an emergency exit, he took you against the wall as if it were only the two of you. 

"Jesus Christ baby, you're killing me-" He explained while lowering down to you until your lips were now at the same level, his nose at a rest beside yours, as you could feel his heartbeat hammering against your own. 

"Please Drew…" You whined as he was helpless to fight against you. A passionate kiss initiated with the guide of his tongue widening your interaction left you immediately winded while his hands took stock of your body. He was torn between testing the dress off of your body with his teeth or keeping it on for coverage, compromising by lifting it over your hips until he learned of the surprise you'd left for him. 

"Fuck…Wanted to be a bad girl tonight?"

"Just for you…" You explained with a confident grin as he lifted your legs around him and kept you hovered for only a second until he was exposed. 

With the darkness of this corner and his body covering you at this angle, you were modest enough to bask in the feeling of this moment without care. This became even more true once you would feel the familiar fullness of his cock in deep penetration as you allowed your body to react without restraint. Moans as loud as the bass of the current song and an arched back pinned flat by his motions and you found a quickening of his fingers to your clit to show his approval. You were brazen and bold, currently straining every line of your moral code, and yet you had done so with complete conviction to this moment's continuation. 

"You feel what this dress does to me baby?" He asked through clenched teeth as you nodded. 

"I'm never taking it off…" He growled and slowly nodded. 

"Yeah, because once we get home, I'll tear it in half if I need to in order to have you all to myself. " You relished in his jealousy, although he never had a need. And along with the tempo and crescendo of this song came a mutual release that mimicked the reverberations that silenced out your mutual orgasms. 

"Dance with me?" You asked once places back on your feet, pulling the dress back over your, now battered, sex, as he shook his head and took his hand in cautious dominance to your jaw. 

"I want to watch you…" His eyes lowered to between your thighs. 

"I want to watch everyone look at you…everyone wanting you…but you're dripping with ME." His words already had you revved for round two, and yet, the idea was too euphoric to ignore. And so you would wait until later that night to reap the benefits of this little dress, that you had a feeling would be removed or in smithereens before you would even be able to make it home..

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @my-baexht-Is @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes

[loveshotzz]

Just wanted to give you guys a little update about what I am working on currently.

I am finishing up a little blurb/one shot my beautiful wife @myobmaya helped me create about Virgin! Eddie getting to play with boobs for the first time 🫠

And this request from an anon.

Here’s a sneak peak of both for you:

Virgin Eddie blurb: EDIT ITS HERE

“Jesus Eddie, it’s like you’ve never seen a woman’s tits before.” Snatching the joint from his hand you ash it for him before taking another long drag eyeing him up.

His face somehow turns an even deeper shade of red and his chocolate eyes won’t look at yours. And it all hits you at once. Was Eddie “The Freak” Munson a virgin?

The idea completely baffled you, the handcuffs in his room, the confident demeanor he always had on, all signs pointed to a man who knew what he was doing in the bedroom. At least that’s what you had assumed.

“Look, it’s not like women are exactly lining up at my trailer door sweetheart.” He finally gives when he finally looks up at you.

A part of you feels bad for taunting him, but an even bigger part was turned on by the aspect of how worked up you must be getting the metal head.

Before you can overthink it to much, you plop yourself down on his lap, legs on either side of his thighs straddling him. The feeling of his painfully hard erection is clear as day under the soft fabric of your biker shorts. Your own arousal starting to collect in your panties, and it takes everything in you not to grind your hips against him.

“Holy shit I-“ Eddie’s eyes look like they might pop out of his head, his hands twitch at his sides unsure if he should touch you or not.

“Well, you scratch my back.” You gesture the half way smoked joint in your hand before putting it back between Eddie’s plump lips. “I’ll scratch yours.”

Eddie takes a long drag as you watch the gears in his head start to turn when you slowly start pushing the straps of your tank top down.

“Hey, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, it’s just an eighth you buy from me all the time.” It almost makes you laugh how much of a gentleman he’s still trying to be when the erection pressed against your swollen nub seems to get even harder.

“I know, I don’t have to Eddie. I want to.” You smirk before pulling your top down revealing the red lace underneath.

“Jesus H Christ” he gasps joint dangling loose from his lips.

Taking your bottom lip between your teeth you can’t help your own bashfulness at the hunger that was dancing around in his pupils as they devoured the newly exposed skin.

You can feel the warmth his calloused hands tentatively rest on the top of your thighs. Taking the joint from his mouth again before it falls onto his lap you put it out behind you. Leaning your body back to reach the ashtray, the new angle pushes him further into your core and you can help the gasp that slips from your lips. The sound making him twitch underneath you.

“Are you trying to fucking kill me?” He groans throwing his head back against the cushion of the couch. Eyes closed his brows are pinched together, the sight of him so fucked out already makes you clench at nothing. “If your trying to get free weed for life, it’s fucking yours.”

ANON REQUEST:

[420technoblazeit]

ok so i rewatched gabriel's big 2 episodes, changing channels and hammer of the gods. and honestly? jesus christ they were so good. like i had to pause the episode multiple times to scream about it, insane how good this show was at its peak

and like. gabriel's great in both episodes, i love the contrast of his playful side and the moments where sam and dean really piss him off. it's so easy to forget how dangerous he is when he's literally just trapped them in a sitcom but then he does something like teleport cas into an alternate dimension with a snap of his fingers and it's like. it's just so good. he was so fun and i know it would've been bad pacing but i wish gabriel was in more episodes

i love that they drew a parallel between gabriel and dean as characters who have so much weight on their shoulders and don't know what to do with it other than hide everything behind a carefree demeanour. i know gabriel doesn't actually die in this scene and i watched his season 13 episodes before they. killed him off for no real reason i guess. but the act of him confronting lucifer and standing with humanity after an eternity of running away is still real and it's sad that after everything lucifer was ready to kill him just like that. i really do think that gabriel still felt betrayed in the end, even if he knew it was coming and lucifer could never give up his revenge. that was still his brother and he still hesitated, even if lucifer didn't

and i always knew that mark pellegrino as lucifer was great but oh my god the snarkiness? the confidence in his voice, the sureness that he really does deserve to end the whole world and kill his brother in cold blood to get his revenge? the tears in his eyes when he stabs gabriel anyway??? season 5 lucifer was so good. i really buy the idea that lucifer feels like what he's doing is justified

hammer of the gods really nailed in the idea that as high stakes and insane as the apocalypse plot was, it was really grounded in the simplest of things. gabriel says it himself, it all boils down to lucifer feeling betrayed by god and wanting his revenge after everything that happened. that's all it was and ever will be, a family feud

and it's not that the later seasons of supernatural are awful, but the application of dean and sam's relationship as brothers paralleling the struggle of the archangels and their broken family gives michael and lucifer especially a lot more nuance. the later villains don't really get that, with the exception of maybe crowley and rowena but they get full fledged redemption arcs so that 's a whole other case entirely. but having the actual devil in your show and then tying his story to your main protagonist's to give him a sense of humanity is so fucking compelling. drives me nuts

[kivaember]

ac6 drabble: abort

last one before i go to bed (i was planning on doing more but work wiped me out today sorry...) but i have to do @steelhazeortus a solid and give them the iguazu/volta that they clearly crave (their prompt being "adding to my last unhinged reply: Volta lives but make it gay (I’m obsessed. Sorry)").

here ya go buddy

abort

Iguazu had his hand on the eject lever the moment the first round from that Juggernaut bitch had slammed into the ground less than a 100m away from him, the blastwave powerful enough it made even HEAD BRINGER's frame shudder with the force of it.

He'd looked out across the battlefield, across the hundreds and hundreds of metres of kill zones that lay between him and the Wall. MTs with rocket launchers, at least twenty long-range cannons twitchy enough to shoot a fly out of the sky, the fucking JUGGERNAUT raining hellfire on any poor fuck who was stupid enough to amble into its crosshairs, and the GODDAMN GATLING GUNS SCREAMING ROUNDS DOWN RANGE LIKE IT WAS GOING OUT OF STYLE-

you've gotta be shitting me, he had thought, in a light-headed, near hysterical sort of way, you have to be absolutely shitting me.

The supporting squad of suicidally loyal MTs were already getting shredded into scrap metal, yelling at making Michigan proud even as they died to bullet fire. Volta, the fucking IDIOT, was gunning full steam ahead, clearly trying to build the momentum for an assault boost over the defensive trench - Iguazu could make the tactical leaps to understand what he was aiming for: get behind the gatling guns, past the smaller rocket launchers, use the solid tower blocks as cover-

Iguazu was a survivor through and through. He took one look at that battlefield, realised the futility of it all in a split second, and thought fuck this shit i'm out.

His hand was on the eject lever. He even pulled on it a little, until it felt resistance. One more tug, and he'd be launched out of HEAD BRINGER and be walking back to the emergency rendevouz point. He'd rather take Michigan bawling into his face for being a cowardly little runt than heroically becoming an ashy smear on the floor to gain the Redguns absolutely jackshit.

His hand was on the eject lever.

But.

Later, Iguazu wouldn't really be able to explain why he didn't pull it the second he touched down. It defied common sense and his own selfish nature. But his gaze had been fixed on Volta stupidly charging ahead, as he always did, obnoxiously confident in his AC's manouverability and thick-plated armour to see him through anything. Iguazu had watched him charging forwards, acknowledged his tactical decision, and just thought the moron's gonna die.

That's fine. Volta was free to go to his grave feeling like he'd accomplished something when in fact it was just a pointless death for a bunch of old windbags who didn't give one flying fuck about the Redguns entirely, so long as they achieved their bottom line. Iguazu wasn't going to go the same way, though. He was getting out of Rubicon, one way or another. He wasn't dying here.

But.

...

His hand...

...

He let go of the eject lever.

"I must be outta my mind...!" Iguazu hissed under his breath, sending HEAD BRINGER forwards into a charge after Volta, the whistle-whine of overhead tank rounds and missiles making his pulse rate hit the fucking goddamn stratosphere.

YOU'RE GOING TO DIE! his survival instinct screamed at him, WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOU STUPID FUCKING IDIOT?!?!

He ignored it. He just followed Volta - followed him over the trench, narrowly avoiding getting blown out of the sky when the Juggernaut adjusted its aiming slightly to try and pre-empty his leap. He landed heavily, whispering "shit shit shit" under his breath like he was praying to Jesus Christ himself to reach down and pluck him from this situation that was entirely of his own making. He didn't, of course. No god gave a shit about Iguazu.

But it turned out he gave some shit about Volta, because the moron didn't use the apartment blocks as cover - he veered to the left, to try and use the open ground to try and do a suicidal charge. Iguazu finally remembered the button for his comms.

"VOLTA! FUCKING IDIOT- GET BEHIND THIS BUILDING!" he roared at him, even as he shot down some enterprising MT trying to lob a missile at him from atop of said building. "VOLTA!"

"I'M COMING! God, fucking hell, Iguazu, blow out my eardrums why don't you!"

Volta came trundling back behind the building, though, smoke and debris peppering his figurative heels, until they were both huddled behind an apartment block, every Rubiconian dipshit throwing everything they had at the fucking building and making him feel like he was standing in one of those shitty, old war films where a bunch of stupid idiots were sittingin a trench grim-faced and preparing themselves to charge into no man's land.

Like hell. Iguazu was going the opposite way, to- to man's land. Whatever. AWAY FROM THE EXPLOSIONS AND MISSILES.

"This mission's a fucking mess, Volta," Iguazu said. "Let's just get outta here."

"You mean ditch the mission?"

"No, I mean we'll do a tactical withdrawal to reconsider our options- OF COURSE I MEAN FUCKING DITCH!" Iguazu yelled, and even reached over to bonk Volta's AC over the head with his rifle. "YOU THINK WE'RE GONNA MAKE THAT?! WITH EVERY GODDAMN FUCKING COKED UP REBEL CUNT CARRYING TEN MILLION MISSILES EACH AND WANTING TO RAM EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. UP OUR ASS?!?! WE'D BE FUCKING SCRAP BEFORE WE CLEAR FIFTY METRES YOU DUMB FUCK!"

Volta didn't say anything for a long moment.

"Why'd you follow me, then?" he finally asked, sounding genuinely flummoxed.

Iguazu didn't have an answer for him.

"I'm fucking going, and you're coming with me," Iguazu said instead, refusing to let his insane dive into missile hell be for nothing. "C'mon, we're jumping the trench."

"Ugh..."

For one moment, Iguazu thought Volta was going to say no, and honestly, Iguazu didn't have a plan for that scenario, but fortunately Volta angled his bulky tank body back towards blessed freedom and muttered: "Fine, but I'm blaming you when Michigan asks why we ran away."

"Sure, whatever fine, he was gonna yell at me anyway."

They heroically got the fuck out of there, with the only sign of their toe dipping into hell being chipped paint, a few scratches, and Iguazu deeply confused about his own incomprehensible actions.