#that's the noise spray paint cans do

[sluggyboiyo]

SPSPSPSPS COME HERE

NONE OF YOU FUCKERS TOLD ME HOW COOL SPRAY PAINT IS.

I have paint stuck on my fingers now though help

[grimalkinmessor]

I saw some cute art of black Near, and it sent me down the spiral of What If Beyond Was Black, so just—imagine with me.

Beyond spending legit hours putting on make up and just fuckin',,,spray painting the rest of his body because like hell he's gonna sit for eight more hours doing it by hand. Naomi notices that his nails and palms are the same color as the rest of his arms but she initially just shrugs it off as Ryuzaki being weird. Maybe he's got spray-on gloves or something like Flint Lockwood because he hates germs.

Beyond crying real tears trying to straighten his hair to make it look like L's. This also takes several hours and many, many cans of hairspray.

He honestly could've kept his original look since no one knows what L really looks like but this man is COMMITTED to the bit even to the point of ultimate cosmetic suffering. Spite is his ultimate motivator in the face of adversity lmao.

And then afterwards when he's in prison Naomi visits him and sees how he really looks and just goes "OH MY GOD IS THAT WHY YOU ALWAYS SPELLED LIKE PAINT THINNER???"

[deadsetobsessions]

“I ate paint once,” Danny nonchalantly threw out in the middle of game night.

The entire table stopped. Heads whipped towards Danny.

“Yeah, me too. Cardamom yellow was my favorite. Ugly as hell but the chemicals just tasted right.” Tim replied, using the distraction to nab some of Bruce’s money. Monopoly money, that is. Everyone’s heads snapped towards Tim, only Cass and Danny (who was part of the scheme) caught him cheating.

“Really? I think mine was those spray can blue cosmos paint. But that might have been more my thing for space than the actual taste.”

“WHY WERE YOU EATING PAINT?!” Dick asked, looking like he wanted to lunge over the table and shake Danny until he puked out paint. Bruce looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

“Yeah, what the fuck, Tim?” Jason snickered.

“In my defense,” Danny grinned. “I was left unsupervised. Also, Steph, you owe me $24 in rent.”

“Ugh! I’m almost out of money! Can’t you loan me some, Alfred?”

“I am sorry, Miss Stephanie, you are not qualified for another loan. In fact, one of your properties is about to be confiscated as per the collateral agreement.”

“Noooo!” Stephanie made dramatic dying noises.

“What was your excuse, Timothy?” Damian asked, eyes glued to the board and determined to win the game.

“Hey, I was probably less supervised than Danny was.”

“Yeah,” Danny perked up. “My parents brought us down to their lab all of the time. Taught us a lot of stuff.”

“Really? Like what?” Duke asked, casually slapping away Tim’s sneaky hands.

“Oh, like what a rocket launcher sounded like up close! And how to build a laser gun! Oh! And what human organs looked like when they’re fresh!” Danny chirped, collecting his money from a stunned Stephanie’s hands. He looked up.

“Oh, don’t worry! I at least learned what not to do when it comes to lab safety. And we wore hazmat suits to protect ourselves from the radiation.” Danny smiled in a ditzy fashion as the table fell silent in a horrified manner. Cass tapped his arm amusedly, but allowed his bullshit to stand. After all, it’s not like he lied.

“Radiation?” Duck’s voice raised a couple of octaves. Oh yeah, Danny’s going to laugh about that pitch for a long while.

“Organs?!” Jason’s hands closed around the plastic house he was holding rather forcefully.

“Do you even know what basic lab safety practices are, Danny?” Damian demanded, finally looking up with brows furrowed. He rolled the dice and grabbed a mystery card. He gets $100 from Alfred.

“How old were you??” Duke asked.

“Like… 8, when they first brought me in?”

“Eight.” Bruce rumbled, slipping into a more Batman like persona. When Danny sent him a confused look, Bruce straightened back into his Bruce persona. “Wow, they must have trusted you a lot!”

“Sure?”

“What were their names again?” Stephanie asked sweetly, Cass nodding at him.

“Jack and Maddie Fenton.” Not that they’ll find them here, considering his parents are dead and in another universe.

“Cool, cool, cool!” Stephanie blinked, beaming as her hands formed lethal fists underneath the table.

Danny blinked and tilted his head in an unassuming way, pretending like he had no idea what Stephanie was thinking of. He sneakily handed over $600 to Cass in order to complete his monopoly on his side of the board.

Danny stood up and spread his hands out, one hand clutching his new found victory.

"Well, lady and gents, you've all been floundering against the inevitable tide of capitalism. I am here, as a reminder that you can never win against the hopelessness that will be your financial ruin! I, Danny Fenton, have obtained a quarter of the board and therefore have won against even your best efforts!" He cackled, holding up his fan of properties triumphantly. He shot a mischievous grin at Cass, who held up a solemn thumbs up in support for his monetary takeover.

"... Danny, are you... planning on a career in villainy?" Bruce asked, after a brief and total wave of shocked silence. Damian looked like he was having a conniption at having been bested, unknowingly. Yeah, Danny was disarming like that.

"Yeah, that was concerning." Tim piped up, nabbing a ten from a shell-shocked Damian.

"Hey! The Riddler gives surprisingly good monologues! And he's really loud, so it's hard not to pick up on things. Duke, your turn." Danny sat back down, pouting. The villainy comment was a little too close to his fears.

"Damn it." Duke, who had rolled, landed smack middle of Danny's territory. He handed over a sheaf of bills to a grinning Danny.

"Wait a minute! You have cheated!" Damian bolted upwards from his seat, finally done running through the purchases he remembered Danny making. "You acquired that property not within the games' rules!"

"Okay, first of all, the rule book is a suggestion, like lab safety rules," Danny saw the others open their mouths to protest, but he quickly shut it down. "Second, there's totally no rules about selling and buying places from a private owner so suck on it. And thirdly? Cass sold it to me, so you all can take it up with her."

"Diabolical!" Damian muttered indignantly.

"... Dammit." Dick sighed, falling back into the chair and balancing on its two legs. He couldn't say anything, considering his current of bankruptcy.

"Danny. Danny, I'll buy a property from you." Jason said, eyeing one of Danny's other properties near his own cluster.

"What do you have that would interest me?" Danny asked, falling back into his Vlad-like imitation.

"Ew, don't do that," Steph reached over to jab him in the arm.

"Yeah, Jason, what do you have?" Duke said, the lovely subtle instigator that he is.

"Red Hood's signature."

The others blue-screen, gaping at the actual audacity Jason had to offer up something that would take him no effort. Danny, prepared with a poker face that came with lying straight to Jazz's ever perceptive eyes about whether he nabbed the last of her ice cream or not, was prepared.

"Red Hood? The condom guy working out of the... um. Upper East Side?" Danny asked, pretending to hesitate. He knows where Jason operated. That doesn't mean he couldn't simply pretend otherwise. For science, of course.

...

...

...

The table howled with laughter, Jason's indignant spluttering unable to say anything against Danny's wide eyed look of innocence. Cass leaned against the table, chuckles falling out of her mouth and eyes crinkled in mirth. Dick had fallen out of his chair, helplessly wheezing on the floor. Duke is hiding his face in his hands, mirroring Bruce's pose as they both shake from silent laughter. Damian is smirking, wicked and sharp as he smugly stared at Jason. Stephanie and Tim are leaning against each other, repeating "the CONDOM GUY" in alternating and increasingly louder voices. Alfred had a smile on his face and a tight grip on the bills in front of him that betrayed his amusement.

"He's a crime lord!" Jason exclaimed, indignant.

"Uh, okay. Well, I mean, why would I want a crime lord's signature? I don't want to be on his radar. Or echolocation or whatever. He's... a Bat, right? That's what you guys call that group, yeah?"

"How do you know the Rogues better than the vigilantes?!" Jason glared at his unhelpful family. Those assholes better prepare for a load of rubber bullets the next time they're on patrol near Crime Alley.

"Hey, it's not my fault the vigilantes here are unsociable. Maybe if they monologued more, I'd know who they are."

"Wouldn't- wouldn't that make them more villain like?" Tim asked, stuttering from his laughter.

"I dunno?" Danny replied, enjoying his the family's unabashed joy. "I mean, they're pretty legit and they help people already so I guess they don't need to be sociable... but still I swear I haven't heard anything about Batman other than that he grunts and is mean towards criminals."

Is mean towards criminals, Duke mouthed at a recovering Dick who was in the process of heaving himself back up. It sent him careening back down to the floor with restrained giggles. Cass tapped Danny, reminding him to eat some food.

"Tt. Of course not. They're efficient at their jobs and have no need to be seen as welcoming to criminals." Damian puffed up.

"Yeah, but they've gotta feel safe, right?" Danny shrugged as he plucked a cookie from the cookie platter. "The... one with the sword, what was it?"

"Robin." Damian supplied, eyes narrowed and trained on him.

"Yeah, the baby bird. The kids think his swords are cool so they trust him. But like, the others? The flippy blue one? Not so much."

"Wait," Dick said from the floor. "They don't trust Nightwing?"

"Nah, they trust him to protect them, but he has a history of bringing the kids to the police, you know?"

"What's wrong with that?"

Danny shrugged. "ACAB. But also because everybody knows that half the guys in the GCPD and CPS are child traffickers."

"Wait, what?" Jason and Tim straightened.

Bruce piped in, the emotional whiplash of amusement to concern to amusement to concern visibly making itself known on the man's baffled face. "I thought Batman and Commissioner Gordon took care of that?"

"Sure, the obvious ones." Danny hesitated. Well, he's pretty sure they think he's a meta so... "There's... a meta trafficking ring that they're a part of. That's. That's kind of what I was running from."

Danny looked up pleadingly. Cass placed a hand on his arm in comfort, not knowing that he was fibbing about running from them.

Danny was on the streets helping his own Alley metas to run from them.

Danny is as feral as she was, and that meant he could hide just as much as she could read off of him. Cass was the best and he felt kind of bad about lying to her, successfully or not.

"Uh. Some people said you know Batman, Bruce. I know- uh, that might not be the case but if you do, could you ask him to look into it?" Danny made his eyes tear up. "And maybe he wouldn't care about me much, I mean, I know he doesn't really like metas but if he helps out, I could totally like, leave the city once the kids are safe, promise."

Ooh, Danny put a little too much sincerity into that. He could practically hear the hearts breaking in the game room as everyone glared at Bruce.

"You won't have to leave."

"... Promise?" And Danny's voice was a little too desperate, too hopeful, because Bruce's eyes tugged down in sadness.

"Promise." He rumbled, all Bruce Wayne and all Batman. Danny's core warmed. Danny also saw the rest of the family's faces darken in pure agreement. And partial wrath.

"Yeah! We'll kick Batman's ass if he even thought about kicking you out!" Stephanie proclaimed.

"He's far more proficient in combat than you are, Brown." Damian immediately leapt to Batman's defense and that was that.

Well, later, as Danny was "sleeping" and Phantom was hovering in the cave, invisible and intangible, he got confirmation that his Alley meta kids were going to be safe, soon.

After all, the entire Batclan was suiting up and baying for blood, with Oracle's all encompassing presence behind them, fingers reaching for their enemies' weak points.

[lovelybucky1]

Nice Guys Finish Last

Kinktober Day 9- Hair Pulling

warnings: hair pulling, oral sex (f!receiving), name calling, face riding, dom/sub dynamics, fwb(?), crime, tattooed and pierced anakin, 18+ minors DNI

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kinktober masterlist

Picking up Anakin from the police station yet again is not what you thought you’d be doing with your night. Your he is always getting into some kind of trouble and it always somehow becomes your responsibility to save his sorry ass.

It’s the third time this month you’ve had to get him and to say you’re pissed is an understatement. You honestly couldn’t believe the officer when he told you Anakin was taken in for vandalism. He was caught tagging a building with some buddies. How fucking juvenile.

You signed the proper paperwork and Anakin was following you out of the station. Somehow, with his pretty boy charm, he always gets off with a warning. Some day he won’t be so lucky, and you may not feel bad for him when that day comes.

“I can’t fucking believe you, Anakin!” you yell once you’re in the car.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Anakin huffs.

“Don’t give me that. I’m the one bailing you out in the middle of the night for fucking around with a can of spray paint.”

Anakin glares at you from the passenger seat. “Thanks,” he mutters.

“Why am I always the one you call? You know I won’t let you rot at the station and all your other friends are getting arrested with you?” It’s a rhetorical question; you know that’s exactly why you’re his call.

“You’re my best friend. That’s why you’re the one I call,” he says. “Sorry if I’m such an inconvenience for you.”

“Do not guilt trip me, Anakin. You are so fucking irresponsible and yeah, you are inconveniencing me because it’s Saturday night and I had plans that I left to come save you.”

Anakin raises his eyebrows at the mention of plans. “What plans?”

“Is that fucking important right now?”

Anakin wiggles his snakebites with his tongue as he looks at you. “Was it a date?”

You sigh heavily. “Yes it was.”

“First date?”

“Third.”

Anakin makes a huh noise faintly and you want to press him about it, but figure it’s better just to get him home and out of your sight before you punch him.

You start the car and pull out of the police station parking lot. You drive in silence for a few minutes, not having put on the radio in your rage.

“You weren’t drunk, were you?” you ask.

“Jesus,” he says, offended. “No, I wasn’t drunk.”

“Don’t act like that’s not a valid question. Do you have any idea how much stupid shit you do when you’re drunk?”

Anakin kicks his foot up on the dashboard and you quickly slap his thigh so he doesn’t scuff up your car with his obnoxious boot.

Before long, you turn into the parking lot of Anakin’s apartment complex and park in your usual spot. He gets out of the car, then you follow.

“You’re coming in?”

“I missed dessert. It’s the least you could do.”

Anakin attempts to smile at you, but that venture is short lived when he sees your annoyed expression illuminated by the street lights.

The two of you walk into the building and up the two flights of stairs to get to his door. He lets you in and you immediately walk over to the freezer, searching for something sweet.

“Ben’s out tonight,” he says.

“So was I, but you didn’t ask Ben to pick you up,” you respond, head still in the freezer.

“Come on, are we really gonna do this all night? Ben and I aren’t close like we are.”

You pick up a pint of half-eaten ice cream and close the freezer before opening all of the drawers until you find the spoons. You take the lid off the container and lean against the counter, glaring at Anakin where he sits at the counter.

“How was your date,” he asks.

“It was good until you dragged me away from it.”

Anakin looks down at his hands and twiddles his thumbs. “Where’d he take you?”

You fill your mouth with a spoonful of ice-cream. “The restaurant on 15th,” you respond.

Anakin furrows his brows. “That place is a dump. Why would he take you there?”

“It’s not about the food, it’s about the company.”

Anakin scoffs. “It sounds like your company is a cheap asshole who doesn’t know how to treat you.”

You stare silently at Anakin while thoughts race through your mind. The first time you got Anakin from the police station was right after your first date, and you were late your second date because you had to drive Anakin home. In an instant, anger seethes inside of you. You drop the ice cream and spoon on the countertop and storm over to the back of Anakin’s chair.

He turns his head to track your movements. When you reach him, you twist your fingers in his dark hair and pull. His head snaps back and he whines in protest.

“You son of a bitch,” you hiss.

“What?” he asks.

“You’ve been purposely ruining my dates by getting arrested.” He whimpers at the painful tug on his roots. “You can’t tell me it’s a coincidence that I’ve had to get you when I was on dates.”

“Let me go and we can talk about this,” he tries to reason.

“No, Anakin. You’re perfectly capable of talking to me like this.”

Anakin sighs. “He’s not good enough for you.”

“You’ve never even met him,” you scoff.

“I don’t need to! I know he isn’t.”

Anakin tries to look at you upside down. He’s playing with his lip rings again, a nervous habit of his.

“And how the fuck would you know that?” you ask.

“Because he’s not me.”

You freeze, and for a moment your grip on his hair loosens. “What?”

Anakin fights against your hold and manages to break free. He stands up from the stool and faces you, the tension in his brows obvious.

“I don’t want you to date that guy. Fuck, I don’t want you to date any guy. Everyone you’ve ever dated has been an asshole and you don’t deserve that.”

“So, what, you’re not an asshole?”

“I am, but I would treat you right.”

“By getting arrested every night for stupid shit?”

Anakin groans. “Can we please stop talking about it?”

You narrow your eyes at him as realization dawns on you. “Were you trying to cockblock me?” Anakin doesn’t respond. All he does is look down at his yellow laced boots to hide the flush on his cheeks. “It was my third date tonight and you knew that. You didn’t want me to go home with him.”

“Christ, no, it’s not like that-”

“Then what is it, Anakin?”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “I just don’t get what you see in him.”

“He’s nice.”

Anakin chuckles. “You don’t want nice.”

“You have no idea what I want.”

Anakin steps forward to crowd you against the counter. You’re not intimidated by him, despite the height difference. Anakin may be bigger and stronger in pretty much every physical way, but you know he wouldn’t hurt you. And you know his weak spot.

“Tell me, then. What do you want?”

“A nice guy with a good job, life goals, and no criminal record.”

Anakin places his hands on the counter on either side of your body. “But does nice make you cum?”

You gasp. “Anakin!”

“I’m serious. Does your nice, regular guy do it for you?” He looks intently at your face, searching for an answer. “Or is it only guys with tattoos and a criminal record that gets your blood pumping like this?”

“We’re friends, Anakin,” you say instead of answering his question.

“That doesn’t have to change.” You sigh and look over your shoulder to collect yourself for a moment, needing a break from Anakin’s piercing gaze. “You’re angry at me and I’m sure you’re pent up because you were planning on getting fucked tonight. Kill two birds with one stone and fuck me.”

“I can’t believe you,” you say, looking back at him.

He smirks, biting his lip. “It’ll be good, I promise. You can hit me, bite me, scratch me, whatever. Use me however you want and you’ll see why nice isn’t better.”

“Fine,” you bite.

“Where do you want me?” he asks.

You look around the open floor plan apartment. “The couch.”

“Not the bed?”

“Nice guys fuck on beds. I thought you were different.”

Anakin backs off of you and walks over to the couch, sitting lazily as we waits for you to come over. His arms are splayed over the back and his legs are spread obnoxiously. You sit on the couch next to him and look at him expectantly.

“You’re not gonna kiss me?” you ask.

Anakin shrugs. “I don’t kiss sluts.”

You raise your eyebrows at that. “I’m a slut?”

“Oh yeah,” he leans closer to you, grasping gently at your jaw. “That’s why we’re a good match. You’re a slut who needs to be fucked hard and dirty, and I’m a bad guy who loves sluts like you.”

Despite yourself, your heart rate picks up. You’re watching his lips, noticing how his tongue swipes across them. Anakin trails his hand up your thigh and inches it closer to your clothed pussy.

“I’m not gonna sit here and let you talk to me like that after the shit you pulled.”

Anakin backs off, his hands now kept to himself. “I’m all yours.”

You make a split second decision to crawl into his lap, and now that you’re seated on top of his thighs, you’re unsure what to do. His body is firm with muscle underneath you. You know he goes to the gym but you’ve never experienced his strength for yourself.

You push up the hem of his t-shirt and he takes the hint, raising his arms so you can pull it off. You’re met with the sight of his abs and chest covered with tattoos and the barbells that go through his nipples. You realize you’ve never seem him like this before and you curse yourself for not getting a glimpse sooner.

“You like what you see?” he asks cockily.

“Shut up, Anakin.”

You run your hands over his chest, dragging your nails down it to leave red marks on the pale skin. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of fucking you, but you are incredibly horny and need to get off.

“Lay down.”

He raises his eyebrows at you. “Talking to me like I’m a dog?”

“Yeah, I am. So be a good boy and lay down.”

You stand up from his lap and take off your bottoms while he changes positions. His legs are outstretched on the couch and his head is flat against the cushion.

You kneel on the couch, knees on either side of his head and you watch as he stares at your pussy.

“Like what you see?” you ask.

“Fuck yeah, I do. Been thinking ‘bout tasting this cunt since we met.”

Anakin reaches up to grab your hips and he pulls you down onto him. His nose hits your mound first, then you sit your pussy onto his mouth and chin.

He looks up at you from between your thighs as his tongue begins to explore between your folds. You wiggle your hips on top of him to get more friction, and to humiliate him a little by using him.

His nose bumps your clit as he licks thick stripes over your pussy. Anakin is attempting to taste every inch of you, and fuck, it feels good.

You reach down and grab his spiked hair with both hands like their reigns. You adjust yourself on his face so he’s hitting all the spots you want him to.

“Fuck, put your tongue inside me,” you order.

He does, and when you feel the hot muscle slide into you, you tug firmly on his hair. He groans into your pussy and fucks you with enthusiasm.

You pull on his hair again and his eyelids flutter. He clearly likes getting his hair pulled, and you enjoy causing him a little bit of pain.

“You got arrested all those times because you wanted me to sit on your fucking face? Why didn’t you just ask?”

You didn’t lift up so he could answer. It was a rhetorical question and if he stopped sucking on your clit, you would kill him.

“You were right, a nice guy wouldn’t let me drown him in my pussy.”

You grind down on his face and tug his head up to meet your body as you feel yourself getting closer.

“Don’t fucking stop, Anakin. I’m gonna cum,” you say.

His eyes are squeezed shut and his brows have a deep crease between them as he concentrates on pleasing you despite the ache that’s surely in his jaw.

“Fuck,” you gasp as you reach your peak.

Your thighs tighten around his head and he sucks firmly at your pussy to ride you through it. Your hips buck up, searching for more friction until your high passes.

You remain on him, but lean your hands back on his thighs to catch your breath. Your chest his heaving and your legs are shaking a bit.

Anakin pushes up on your thighs, signaling you to get off of him. You slide from his face down to his hips and straddle him there.

His hair is a mess, his face is wet, and his lips are swollen and red. “How was that?” he asks, voice rough.

“Nice,” you respond with a smirk.

Anakin glares at you. He sits up and grabs your hips tightly to hold you still as he grinds his hips on your ass. He spanks you with his right hand, making you gasp in surprise.

“I thought I got to do whatever I wanted?”

“You got your chance,” Anakin grumbles. “Now I’m not gonna be so nice.”

[jaylaxies]

PERVERT!JENO

genre/cw: pervert!jeno, smut, roommates au, slight dubcon (recording and clicking pictures)

warning: 18+ content, minors dni

Pervert!Jeno who’s the sweetest person you’ve ever met, always ready to help you as a roommate but also making sure you don’t feel uncomfortable around him. That’s simply his strategy to make sure you’re comfortable around him, just so he can put up a sweet smile and manipulate you into thinking that his sweet gestures, such as long hugs and smiles thrown your way when you look at him, are normal when in reality, he’s simply trying to memorize your scent and ogle at your body, his eye smile making it seem harmless.

Pervert!Jeno who knows the exact time you return back from your classes and go into your room to change. He pretends to not be at home just so you don’t bother closing the door to your room, keeping it slightly ajar, enough for him to tiptoe and watch you get out of your jeans and shirt, standing in front of the air conditioner to get some cool air, giving him the perfect view of your body—providing him with something to think about while jerking off later.

Pervert!Jeno who loves giving you gifts which majorly consist of stuffed toys and plushies. At first he started by adding a voice recorder to your toy, which gave him the perfect and clear recordings of your moans whenever you touched yourself or in cases where you bring a guy to get fucked—which he hates, but the pretty noises you make drives him insane to the point he makes a mess all over his hands, the cum painting his chest when he reached his high listening to you.

Pervert!Jeno who feels even more motivated to step up his game and see your body in short dresses and skirts, which is something he buys in bulk around the time of your birthday, knowing well you’ll be wearing those, and you do exactly that. The skirt is so short, it doesn’t do much to hide anything, and he’s sly, keeping a hand on your thigh while watching a movie seems innocent enough to you, but to him? He’s living the best life caressing and rubbing your inner thighs, because he knows that soon, you’ll end up feeling the need to touch yourself thinking about him.

Pervert!Jeno who accidentally enters your room when you strip down to change, acting his best to pretend that he didn’t do it on purpose, shielding his eyes using his fingers with enough gap to look at your tits and cunt, the cunt he so desperately wants to fuck and claim. He would stay for a few seconds before leaving the room, apologizing softly, but he’s not sorry in the slightest.

Pervert!Jeno who loves to click pictures, having a small camera with him at all times. He’s clicked numerous pictures of you and so, you don’t question it whenever you hear the camera shutter, not even knowing that he’s an expert when it comes to hiding and capturing the most intimate moments of you. The media helps him jerk off, especially when he sprays your perfume on the stolen panties of yours, which he got from the laundry and wrapping it around his thick, veiny cock. He loves to soil them up, wishing that you’d wear a panty full of his cum someday.

© jaylaxies | tumblr

[hiddenonyx]

Obey Me! Characters Walking in on MC Showering

Notes: fem MC!, suggestive content, nudity

Word count: 3.4K - about 290 per character

A/N: You'll probably be able to tell, but this was written over the course of like...3 months? So it's a little disjointed and you can most certainly tell who I was more inspired for. Thank to Pen for giving me ideas for Simeon and Solomon. -------------

After a little planning mishap, you end up sharing a hotel room (and bed) with them. It’s a little awkward, but you’re too tired to truly care. Right now, you really just want a shower. Any other thoughts be damned.

—

"Yeah, yeah, I'm not gonna take forever, calm down," you answer back to your temporary roommate. "It's just a shower to refresh a little."

You shift your half folded clothes in your arms so you can close the bathroom door.  You don't bother to lock it - after all they'll have to know that you're still in the bathroom if you're not out in the room, right? You set your clothes on the oversized countertop, before going over to the shower. It's a simple rectangle shower with a glass door, but isn't so horrible small that you're crowding yourself inside of it. After a few minutes of trying to figure out how to even turn the damn thing on, you get the water running and turn away to strip as the water warms up. But before you step in, you grab your phone and set the all important music. You turn it up so it's just loud enough to contend with the noise of the shower, set it on the counter nearby and step in. A sigh escapes you as the warm water sprays on your skin. Maybe you'll take a little longer than you said...

—

Lucifer

     He watches you disappear into the bathroom, not believing you when you told him it'll be a "quick" shower (40 minutes is not quick, MC). He goes back to reading through the tourist pamphlet for a factory, allowing the soft noise of the shower and distant music lull him into a feeling of soft relaxation. It's not until nearly an hour later that he realizes that you're still in the shower. Mild concern paints his face as he stands up and makes his way over to the closed bathroom door. The sound of your music is a little louder now and he can hear you humming along.

    "MC?" he asks softly, gently tapping his knuckles against the door. He repeats the actions a little louder when you don't answer. When you still don't answer, Lucifer hesitates, before giving a resigned sigh and opening the door. 

     His question of if you're alright dies on his tongue as he's greeted with the image of your perfect naked body partially obscured by condensation on the glass door. Your back is towards him as you hum along to a song, hands busy washing your hair, completely unaware that Lucifer's walked in on you. He's frozen to the spot for a few moments, his mind screaming at him to close the door and walk away like nothing's happened, but his body simply won't respond. He's stuck staring at your gorgeous form for what seems like an eternity.

    Then you start to turn around. Lucifer's body suddenly wakes up and he damn near slams the door off its hinges as he hurries to close it. You startle and call after him, confused and so blissfully unaware, "Lucifer? Was that you? Is something wrong?"

—

Mammon

     He grumbles as he watches you disappear into the bathroom. He knows that you'll take forever, and there's nothing to do in this tiny shoe box-excuse of a room. He pouts a little more - how dare you leave the Great Mammon bored?! When he hears the shower start and the music kick up, he knows you're not going to come back right away (a small part of him hoped that you would forget something and have to come back out so that he could see you again). 

    Mammon looks around the room, eyes falling on your open bag. His eyes dart back to the closed door before he shrugs and starts to go through it. He's mildly interested by all the little knick-knacks and souvenirs that you've kept  from him and his brothers. He's just about to go through your wallet when a loud "thud" followed by your muffled cursing startles him. He bolts up from your stuff and looks to the bathroom, a guilty look painted on his face. But the door remains closed. Confused and a little concerned, Mammon approaches. 

    "MC? W-what was that?" he calls, but unbeknown to him, you can't hear him over the shower and your music. He pauses at the door and strains his ears to try and hear a response. When none comes, he starts to get nervous. Did you fall? Is that what the loud noise was? Are you injured?

    More than a little panicked, Mammon hurriedly opens the door, "MC-!" His voice dies on his tongue as you lock eyes. You're putting some kind of product on your hand (presumably to spread somewhere else), and fully naked. The condensation on the glass does a poor job of censoring your breasts and the curves of your waist. You look at him, surprised and confused, and perhaps a little embarrassed - he however, is bright red and stuck staring. It isn't until you start to say something that Mammon lets out a pathetic yelp and slams the door closed.

—

Levi

    Levi gives you a disbelieving look at your “I’ll be quick” claim, but shrugs it off; after all he has to do some daily tasks in “Ruri-Chan Flowers vs. Devils: Dance Dance Battle!”. He hears you start your shower just as the game loads. He cracks his knuckles before curling into his best gamer posture.

     Levi glances at the time as he closes the app - almost 2 hours later. He winces; he hadn’t intended to spend longer than 30 minutes doing his tasks, but a new event had started and he just had to get the ice queen skin for Ruri-Chan (it looks so elegant on her!). He listens for a second and doesn’t hear the shower running anymore. He looks around for you in the room (perhaps you entered the room when he was in the “zone” and didn’t notice), and is confused when he doesn’t see you. Curiously, he makes his way to the bathroom door and listens again: silence.

    “M-MC?” Levi asks nervously. When you don’t answer he opens the door tentatively. He’s greeted with the lovely embarrassing view of you mid change; wearing only your underwear.  He’s frozen to the spot, staring at how your bra barely contains your breasts, at how your panties accent and clings to your natural curves. 

     “L-Levi?” You ask, slightly embarrassed by his staring. His face is so red you’re worried he’ll pass out. After a few more seconds his brain seems to catch up and he covers his face and practically runs back to the bed, screaming apologies.

—

Satan

     He gives you a hum of acknowledgement at your announcement and turns the page of his new book. He hears the bathroom door click closed. He lets out a soft sigh of relaxation before settling fully in the chair. He knows that he'll have plenty of time to read in peace and quiet while you shower.

     Satan is fully immersed in his book when you call his name from the bathroom. He startles and almost bends the page. He looks over at the door, answering you back, "Yes?"

   "I forgot my pajamas on my bed. Could you bring them here, please?" Your voice is timid and embarrassed. He sighs softly - you make him do things that he wouldn't do for anyone else.

    "Yes. Just a second." He gently (and carefully) sets his book down on the table before standing up and going over to your bed. Your cute sleeping clothes are folded nicely in a single space (which he appreciates the neatness of). He picks them up just as gently as he had put his book down before walking over to the bathroom.

    He raps his knuckle gently against the door and waits for your answer. He doesn't hear the music or the water running, so he tries again slightly louder. When you fail to answer again, he gently opens the door and steps inside. 

    He's greeted with the view of you wrapped in a towel that just barely covers the important parts. Your breasts are nearly spilling over the top of the white towel (how the towel even remains wrapped around in the first place is a wonder). And the towel just barely covers the upper most part of your thighs. You scroll absently on your phone while you wait, unaware of Satan's presence. He stares for a few seconds, struggling to collect himself (how dare you be this nonchalant), before he softly clears his throat.

    You look over and give him an apologetic smile before reaching out to take the offered clothes. Satan closes the door and does his best to muffle the sigh he lets out. This is going to be a long trip.

—

Asmodeus

    He really wants to ask you if he can join you, but he figures that if you wanted him to join you, you would've extended an invitation. Perhaps you simply need a little bit to sort through your thoughts and memories of the day (which he understands - he does that too). Instead, he busies himself doing his skincare routine out in front of his travel mirror. It's far from the best, but it'll do for the night.

    Asmo hums idly to your muffled playlist, enjoying the odd domestic tone of the night. The situation is odd, with having to share a bed, he muses, but at least he can fall asleep right next to your cute self. It isn't until he's about to complete his last step in his extensive routine that he notices that your music has stopped. When did it stop? How long has the room been silent? Asmo strains his ears, but can't hear any other sounds.

    "Little dove? Are you done?" he calls softly. When you don't answer him, he gets up, and goes over to the bathroom door. He knocks, calling again, "Dove?"

    "Huh? Oh yeah, I'm done....hey, umm...could you help me? T-there's this knot in my hair."

    Asmo smiles softly before opening the door. He pays little mind to the fact that you've somehow managed to wrap and tie the hotel towel around your body (maybe you used a little magic), and instead focus on this knot of wet hair you're struggling to untangle. He gently takes the brush from you, his fingers ever so softly grazing your's, and gently pulls it from your hair. He hums as he begins to gently brush your hair out.

—

Beelzebub

    He nods in acknowledgement before popping another piece of candy in his mouth. It's some human world candy; some of the pieces are sweet and some of them are tart, and Beel never quite knows which kind he'll get. He sits on the bed, simply enjoying the snack and thinking - thinking about the day you've spent together.

    He's content for the time, but a loud "bampoof" followed by language Beel's only ever heard come from an angry Levi makes him pause mid chew. He swallows hard before rising from the bed.

    "MC? Are you okay?" His voice is soft but urgent. He rests his hand on the door, listening. He can still hear the water running, your music playing and...your mumbled curses. He breathes a sigh of relief; at least you're not unconscious. But still...

    He opens the door gently, eyes cast to the tiled floor trying to respect your privacy. "MC? A-are you okay? What happened?"

    You huff and rise to your feet, grabbing the offending soap bar that had slipped from your grip and caused you to fall after it. "Yeah, I'm fine...more or less. Hit my head slightly, " you mumble before looking over at Beel. His face, even staring at the title, is dusted pink. You can't help but smile and giggle. He blushes harder, before glancing at you.

    "Yeah, Beel, I'm fine. I'll be out in a few, okay?" you give him your biggest, most convincing smile. He nods, his face even redder now, before closing the door.

—

Belphegor

    He makes a half-assed noise to acknowledge you before covering his eyes with his arm. As long as he wakes up next to you, he doesn't really care how long you take. As he drifts off, he hears your music start playing. Despite the peppy-upbeatness it lulls him to sleep all the same.

     Belphie has no idea how much time has passed when he wakes up, but he does know that you're not in bed with him. Grumbling, he practically slides himself out of bed and stumbles to the bathroom door. He grumbles, some sort of half asleep noise, before unceremoniously opening the door.

     "Belphie!" You squeak, scrambling to wrap yourself in a towel, smearing lotion on the white cloth. He sleepily sways towards you - too asleep to notice your state of undress. He wraps his arms around you and sleepily nuzzles your neck, mumbling something about you being late. You're frozen to place, one hand gently touching on Belphie's shoulder. 

    "Belphie." you say again, holding your breath. He makes a noise of some kind but continues to lean into you. You both stand there for a few minutes before Belphie raises his face to look at you. His eyes seem a little clear and he gives you a questioning look, "What? You weren't in bed," he pouts. 

    "Belphie...I'm naked."

    He stares at you and blinks dumbly for a second before his sleepy brain catches up. His face turns red and he bites his lip. Reluctantly he pulls away and looks at the floor.

    "S-sorry. I-I'll go." You giggle and smile, "It's okay. I'll be out in a few more minutes okay? And then I'll give you all the cuddles you want."

—

Diavolo

     He watches you disappear into the bathroom with a soft hum and smile. He turns his attention to the small smattering of various important documents that need his attention and signature (even on "vacation" the poor prince can never seem to escape his work). He sighs and silently debates if Barbatos's lecture would be worth ignoring his work for the time being. Diavolo glances back at the bathroom door before picking up his pen - it's not like he had anything else to do while he waited.

    He's almost finished with his paperwork - actively in the process of signing the last document - when he's startled by a unusually loud "FUCK" from the bathroom. Diavolo spares only a half a second to frown in annoyance at the smeared lettering before setting the pen down and getting up.

    "MC? Are you-?" he starts as he approaches the door. He strains his ears to listen, hearing movement from inside and more importantly your grumbles of irritation. "MC?" he calls again, waiting by the shut door, concern worming its way into his expression. You don't answer, but he can still hear you moving.

     Carefully he turns the door handle and slowly opens the door just enough so that he can look in and see what's happened.  He sucks in a soft breath. You're completely naked, fiddling with a band-aid, a small stream of blood running down your leg. You must've nicked yourself while shaving, and as his eyes trace the blood, it looks to be around your knee (an annoying and troublesome area if one's not careful, or so he's been told). His eyes continue to travel past the nick to rake over the rest of your nude form. 

    And Diavolo has to bite his lip to stop himself from letting out a hot and noisy breath. You're gorgeous, absolutely stunning, drop dead beautiful - he could on. Every part of you is simply perfect. His trance of admiration is broken when you move again, having finished applying the band-aid. Carefully, and quietly, he closes the door letting out the breath he was holding. There's no way either of you are sleeping tonight.

—

Barbatos

    He gives a little hum to acknowledge you, but says nothing. It's a bit odd to see Barbatos of all people casually reclining in a chair with a book, but it's kinda cute (and an odd weight off your shoulders that the man does actually know how to relax).  You turn and make your way to the bathroom, gently closing the door behind you.

    Barbatos lets his eyes follow you as you walk to the bathroom, watching you go. His eyes narrow slightly - he expected your arms to be fuller...were you forgetting something? He glances over to your bed to find that you had forgotten to bring your sleepwear. He smiles softly, how cute of you.

    Barbatos sets his book down before getting up and carefully collects your clothes to bring to you. He knocks gently on the door and then opens it. It's a force of habit really, he truly didn't mean to intrude and walk in on you half naked.

     You hold each other's gaze for several long seconds, your hands behind your back holding the clasps of your bra. He simply stands in the entrance of the room, one hand holding your sleepwear, the other on the door knob. 

    He clears his throat softly, "You forgot these." Barbatos sets your clothes on the counter before quietly excusing himself.

—

Simeon

    He smiles as he watches you disappear into the bathroom. His smile dips into a slight frown when he realizes that he's not sure what to do now that you're busy. Should he read? His eyes dart to his bag. Or maybe he should work on his manuscript - he had been hoping to be able to work on it at some point during this trip and now seemed as good of a time as any, right?

     After almost twenty minutes of struggling to do anything writing related Simeon decides that it would be best to call it a night. He carefully put his manuscript away and makes his way over to the bed. He picked up the top item of clothing that he had set out for himself earlier, only to realize that it wasn't his - it was your's. He glances back towards the bathroom and then the shirt he had unfolded. You must've grabbed the wrong set of sleepwear by accident.

     Ever the gentleman, Simeon refoldes the shirt and picks up the stack of clothing, making his way to the bathroom. Even through the door, he can hear you softly singing along. He doubts that you can hear him, but he still knocks anyways, and isn't surprised when you don't answer.

    Gently he opens the door, his gaze downwards. He peeks up, looking at the counter to see where you had set down the clothes you took. He groans internally when he sees that they're almost right at the farthest end; he had hoped to just be able to quickly swap them out and not disturb you. 

    He sighs and steps in, "Um, excuse me, (MC). I don't mean to bother you, but it seems you accidentally grabbed my clothes instead of your's."  You look over to him, gently jolted out of your thoughts. You can't help but smile at Simeon; he keeps his gaze down and is quick with the exchange.

    "Oh, I'm sorry."

     "It's alright. Enjoy the rest of your shower," and with that, he gracefully leaves, his ears a soft pink.

—

Solomon

     He smiles and laughs a little to himself as he watches you leave towards the bathroom. He waits till he hears the door close before returning his attention to the small set up of magical equipment and knick-knacks. As he starts to tinker, he hears the soft noise of the shower and your music. He hums along softly as he works.

    Almost half an hour later Solomon sets down his tools and stretches in the chair before getting up. He makes his way to the bathroom, lost in thought about his recent project. It was being difficult and not quite working how he wanted it to.

    ...maybe a shower would help clear his thoughts. 

   He opens the door to the bath and casual walks in, pushing the door closed with his foot. He grabs his belt to start undoing it when a voice calls his name.

     "Solomon?! What are you doing?!"

     He looks up and over to the shower, to see you. Already naked, in the shower, and in the middle of washing your hair. He tries to hold your gaze, but his eyes falter and flicker down to the rest of your form for a second. He had forgotten you were in here.

    He laughs, thoroughly embarrassed for the first time in a while and brings his hands up to rub at his shoulder in an apologetic gesture, "S-Sorry, sorry. I...I uh...forgot you were in here..."

    "Where else would I be?! Now get out! Shoo!"

     Solomon doesn't need to be told twice.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

A flock of elephants

Written for the November warm-up round of the @steddieholidaydrabbles

Prompt: Bakery AU

Rated: T

CW: some sexual tension and innuendo

Tags: Baker Steve, Rockstar Eddie

Notes: Can be read as a continuation of this microfic

“You don't understand how huge a deal this is, Steve,” Dustin says. He’s wiggling in the passenger seat, trying to take in every bit of their surroundings as they pull up to the concert hall. 

Steve huffs and squints at the signs. There's security and fans and staff everywhere and he can feel a headache coming up. 

"A guy asked me to bake a cake, so what? It's literally what I do for a living, nothing-" 

"A guy asked you to-" Dustin sputters. "Excuse me, what did you say? Eddie Munson commissioned you to bake a replica of his world famous Warlock, do you have any- Do you even know who Eddie Munson is?" 

"Of course I know," Steve grouses. "I don't live under a rock." 

"Oh yeah?" Dustin levels him with an unimpressed look. "Name one of his songs." 

"Please," Steve rolls his eyes. "You're blasting that shit on repeat, it's practically seared into my brain. Especially the one about the elephants." 

Dustin stares at him. Steve resists the urge to pinch his nose.

"You know the one! What was it? Flock of Elephants?" 

Dustin crumples into the car seat and slaps both palms to his forehead. "It's A Court of Sycophants, Steve! Oh my God!"

"Synchro-what?" Steve ignores the way his neck prickles and takes a sharp right. "You just made that up. Now help me look for the delivery entrance or we won't have ourselves a deal at all." 

*

Once they find the entrance, it turns out he forgot the ID badge that the label sent, because of fucking course he did. He spends about half an hour trying to convince the grumpy security guard to let them in while Dustin has a complete meltdown. Just as he's ready to give up, they're rescued by the appearance of a tiny blonde in a pink cardigan who cheerfully introduces herself as Eddie’s manager. 

"Sorry about Hop," she says for what must be the fourth time, while Steve sets up the guitar-shaped cake at the center of the buffet and Dustin inspects the backstage lounge with awestruck eyes. "He takes his job very seriously." 

"Yeah, I noticed," Steve mutters. She seems nice enough, but he really doesn’t wanna engage in smalltalk right now. The bustle of the stage hands and the hot air of the venue are making him squeamish. All he wants to do is get this over with and go home.

Unfortunately fate must hate him, because that is the exact moment that a familiar voice says, "Hey, Chris. No matter what Hop tells you, I didn't order hookers to the venue. I dunno where he got the-" 

Dustin starts squealing. 

"Oh my God, you're Eddie Munson!"

Eddie squints at him like a confused cat. 

"Last time I checked, yeah. And you are?" 

"Dustin," says Dustin, like that explains everything. "I'm with Steve." 

Eddie’s eyes flit over and his face breaks into a delighted, dimpled smile. 

"Baker boy, hi!" 

Steve's mouth goes dry. 

He doesn’t know why, but all of the easy confidence of their last meeting is suddenly gone. 

Maybe it's because they were in the bakery, on his own turf, and now they're on Eddie’s, where the lights and the noise and the hum of the crowd in the auditorium are grating on his nerves. 

Maybe it's because last time, Eddie looked like just some guy in his ripped jeans and ratty hoody, unwashed hair piled in a chaotic bun, and now …

… now he's in a pair of leather pants that are so tight they may as well be spray-painted on and what looks like a fucking harness, hair cascading around his face and shoulders in a halo of messy curls and is that eyeliner? 

"Woah," Eddie breathes, eyes growing large, and yup, eyeliner. Definitely eyeliner, Jesus fucking Christ. With two long strides of those impossibly long legs, he's beside Steve and ogling the cake with an awestruck face. "This is fucking incredible, dude, it looks just like the real thing. You did all that from the photos?" 

By some miracle, Steve manages to channel the incoming blush into a sly pop of his hips and a smug eyebrow quirk. 

"Told you I was the best." 

Eddie is looking at him like he didn't bake a cake but hung the moon, which … in combination with the eyeliner and the leather and the harness of it all? Steve squirms in his jeans.

"Okay, erm … if that's all, I'll send over the bill by-" 

"Wait, what? You're not staying for the show?" Eddie swivels to Chrissy, all righteous indignation. "Why are they not staying for the show?" 

Chrissy shrugs, at the same time that Steve says, "That's really not necessa-" 

"We'd love to stay!" 

Dustin shoves himself between them, elbowing him in the kidneys. While Steve is still coughing, Eddie turns to Chrissy. 

"Show the young man to the backstage area, Chris?" 

Dustin looks like he's about to die of happiness, so Steve resigns himself to his fate. 

"Will you play the one about the psychopaths?" he asks as they trail after him. "It's his favorite." 

"Psycho-" Eddie’s brow wrinkles.

"Sycophants, Steve!" Dustin hollers from ahead. "Jesus!" 

"Anyways," Steve says over Eddie’s rumbling laughter. "You really didn't have to-" 

"I know I didn't." Eddie accepts his guitar - the real one - from a stage hand and slings it over his shoulder. "But I saw what you're best at, so I figured I'd return the favor." 

"Careful there," Steve huffs. "All you've done is ogle my cake. You may wanna try it first." 

"Oh, I'm planning to …" Eddie's smile is sharp as he leans in, close to his ear. "Preferably with less people around, though." 

And then he's gone, stepping out on the stage, making his guitar wail. 

Steve can't quite tell if the roar in his ears is the crowd or the sound of his own blood.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 41

part 1 | part 40 | ao3

FUCKING. FINALLY. welcome back and happy new year babies! cw: this is just porn. D/s vibes but nothing formally discussed. smidge of subspace, mild to moderate pain play, oops! all nipple play. minors i will spray you with bear mace i swear to god

The hand under his shirt moves higher up, fingertips skimming his sternum, weaving through his chest hair; tugging, just a little. “Good?” Eddie checks. His voice is light, relaxed and conversational like he isn't driving Steve crazy, working his fingers in maddening little circles that make Steve's lungs forget how to work.

Steve goes to say yeah, but then Eddie pinches his left nipple and all that comes out is: “Fuck.” Quietly gasped at the ceiling, panting when Eddie doesn't let go.

No one's ever touched him there before.

Not on purpose; not like this.

Eddie's fingers are fucking jumper cables; he rolls the stiffening nub between his forefinger and thumb, and electricity bursts from the point of contact down the length of Steve's whole spine — settles in the small of his back and makes him lurch off the floor with a wordless groan.

"God," Eddie breathes, rolling his hips against Steve's thigh. Slow and filthy and hard, painting a wet spot on his sweats. Steve can feel it against his leg, the tiniest little dot blooming at the tip; knows that if he looked down he'd see it spreading dark and damp. God. God.

Eddie shoves Steve's shirt up under his arms and chases his fingers with his tongue. Licks the battery; makes Steve jolt. "Knew you'd be like this," he says, searing eye contact as he dips to swirl the pointed tip of his tongue against the peak. He blows a stream of cool air until Steve squirms underneath him, then crawls up to press his lips to the lobe of Steve's ear, breath hot against him as his tongue flicks out to taste. "Knew you’d be sensitive here, too." His fingers play with the skin he left pebbled and spit-slick. "You’re so responsive, aren’t you?”

Shame or something like it scorches Steve’s cheeks like a brand, and he curls up to hide in the crook of Eddie’s neck. Squeezes his eyes shut, focuses on hot skin and fine stubble. Warm. Safe.

"Sorry," Eddie chuckles in his ear. “Too much?”

Steve shakes his head. Doesn't want to hear the word 'sorry' right now; thinks it sounds weird in Eddie's mouth. Thinks it has no business here.

Eddie rocks his hips against him. “Gonna tell me if it is?”

Steve nods mutely, curling in tighter and rolling his forehead over Eddie’s collarbone, the fabric soft against his nose.

"Gonna tell me with your words?” Eddie teases, voice low.

Steve tries; he tries, okay? But all that comes out is another weak moan, a reedy whimper high in his throat, and he can't uncurl himself; can't shake the flood of nerves or shame or— he doesn't know what. Doesn't understand what's happening: why he's rolled up like a pill bug, why he's shaking like a leaf, making all these pathetic, needy noises like some wound-up nervous virgin, but Eddie's hard against him, and his rings are tickling his ribs, and he can't fucking stop now; can't find his words, can't work his tongue.

Eddie fists his free hand in the hair at Steve's nape, pulls him out of hiding and looks at him with narrowed eyes.

It's mean. It's hot. Steve wants to stare without blinking; desperately wants to look away.

Eddie's tongue runs over his lip, considering and almost rude, like tsk, tsk, tsk; whatever will we do with you? and then he twists Steve's nipple hard.

“F-fu—!” Steve stutters, whimpering in shock. Eddie pinches harder, eyes narrowing to slits, and it hurts; it fucking hurts, but it snaps him out of it. Whatever it was. “Yes!” he gasps, hips bucking without thought.

"Ah," Eddie bites back a pleased grin, "so you do know how to answer me. That's good." He shifts his weight onto his elbow and gives Steve's abused nipple a sharp flick, asking in a bored tone, "Yes what, baby boy?"

Holy shit; holy shit. Steve couldn't possibly remember now. “Yes," he babbles, guessing, "I'll— I'll do it; do whatever, just— fuck. Eddie. Eddie, please.”

“Close enough," Eddie relents. Smiling wide, teeth sunk into his bottom lip; sadistic fucker's loving this. He gives Steve's nipple a soothing pat (or rather, a pat that would be soothing if his skin wasn't still stinging from the vicious treatment a second ago), and says, "I’ll be nice this time.”

Steve gawks at him. Lifts up on his elbows so he can do it properly. “That was you being nice?”

"Sure was." He sighs a happy hum and gives another languid thrust, cock flexing on Steve's thigh, and a pulse thuds between their bodies. Steve can't tell whose pulse it is, whose blood is singing in whose veins. Eddie taught him something once about resonant frequency — symphonies of synchrony, he said, or something like it; all wistful and blissed out on the tail end of a joint — and Eddie kisses him now and when he bends to nip his Adam's apple, Steve feels the murmured words reverberate inside his throat. “You wanna see me get a little mean?”

—

part 42

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[comfortless]

what's ur most unconventional Headcanon? like ones you have that most of the fandom doesn't agree with. mine is that I don't think h's 6'10, in my mind he's closer to 6'6 or 6'7. Also I don't think he would be the most caring bf 😶😶 like not abusive or anything, but to me he will almost always prioritize himself in the long run

HA… well….. i do not think any of mine are too strange! but i can not ever shush when someone has lent an ear to listen!!

warning for nsfw content, mentions of injury, and unhealthy relationship stuff below the cut.

i agree with you about his height. he’s significantly taller than Simon, but i would place him at 6’7”-6’8” max. i’m no health or military expert, but i do not think that he could do the work that he does efficiently if he were a complete Goliath. he would stand out so easily! and there are a slew of issues that can stem from someone being “too tall”. he probably doesn’t have the best posture, either.

i love the conventionally attractive, long-haired König headcanons, they’re fun! but ultimately… very, very unrealistic for my interpretation of König. i tend to side with Salome and Ghost when it comes to their takes on how he actually looks under the hood. his character description suggests that his face is scary, and judging by the game that he’s in, i do not think that the other operators are going to find some goth guy nor… Jim Boeven… to be worthy of such a rumor!

König’s face is always going to be a fluctuating thing for me, heavily dependent on the setting/time period i’m shoving him into or reading about. the thing that’s stuck with me however has always been facial scarring!! where he got it? who knows… i mentioned it on my headcanons post, but the cause is just as changing as his appearance.

i like the thought of him being a little different looking: crooked teeth, pockmarks, maybe a harelip or a broken nose, burn scars, something. maybe his hair is so light it simply looks as if he doesn’t have eyebrows. maybe a combination of all of those things! the less conventionally attractive the better, it’s not his face that had us scrambling from the rafters with our hearts in our hands, after all. though i am and always will be a glitched default face model König defender. it’s just so unbearably adorable to think of that soft, sad-eyed face making that much noise while he’s rushing around in battle. ):

and though i believe he would have the best intentions at heart… you are right, he is likely a very selfish lover. still hopelessly devoted and needy, but he would be the king of double standards. most decisions are made with his preferences in mind, and the bullying has stuck with him. König is insecure as hell when it comes to anything but his skills in killing or bashing through a door.

he likes the idea of you dressing up for him, but he’s also actively pulling up your dress/top to hide your cleavage if he even thinks another man may have glanced your way. yet… he will go to the gym shirtless, and if other women happen to ogle him, well it’s just fine because he didn’t notice them anyway.

you don’t like the house you’re living in when you move in together? well he does, you’re staying… he’ll just fix it up a little to better suit your needs. even if he screws up setting up a new counter or painting, that can all be fixed.

you want to go out with your friends? he should be allowed to come with you… spending time with you makes him happy. why wouldn’t you want him to come too? yet, when he wants time alone to focus on his aim, decompress with a book, or mess around with a vehicle or a house project, you’re expected to leave him be.

he’s too blunt about what he does for work, doesn’t bat an eye when he tells you he put a bullet through someone’s head and watched the spray. he’s so used to it, it doesn’t even faze him anymore, but… you don’t want to hear about it? oh that must mean you think he’s something filthy or worse. he’s not going to cry, but he might bring it up when you tell him about something you enjoy.

just ridiculous, petty things that would drive most up a wall, but he’s firm in whatever he decides. there’s always a little room for compromise, but not much without an argument.

he has his savings account and the house is in his name in case you decide to leave. it would gut him, of course, but a part of him also expects it.

he’s not above begging for you to stay, trying any way that he can to convince you, but… he’s never expected to have things handed to him easily. his childhood wasn’t the best, why would his adulthood be any better? the way he sees it is simple: he doesn’t hit you, his cock and heart are reserved solely for you, if you can’t love him enough to stay, then… maybe you’re not any different from the people he’s known before.

he’s self aware enough to know he can be a complete arschloch, thinks with his cock more than his brain, but he’s completely lost when it comes to matters like love. he wants to console you when you cry, when you’re angry, but asking you a dozen times just why you feel such a way while squishing you into a too-tight embrace doesn’t help much. his search history is filled with things like “why is my girlfriend mad at me” or “how to make a woman stop ignoring me”. his communication toward you isn’t great, but he tries in his own way. very easy to break an argument up when he tells you some silly, scripted thing like, “I’m here for you. I’m listening.” when under normal circumstances he’s staring at you with wide-eyes and swallowing hard the very second you seem a little ruffled. you tell him to stop reciting some guide he read online, and he’s immediately worried sick you’re going to think him a complete fool, in utter denial about ever having searched something like that up.

can’t see him as being god’s gift to women in the bedroom at all. König has probably watched a lot of porn. he doesn’t care for the scripted, practiced stuff, but his tastes have always been a little odd. the amateur, solo stuff is what piques his interest the most. he knows a vibrator can make a woman come, knows that a dildo can be nice too if she sets the pace. what he’s watched with a proper couple, well… the men are always smaller than him. the terms and dynamics are lost on him, he knows what a safe word is and that he should be a gentleman and make sure his partner finishes too, but each time that’s happened has been a miracle really. he’s not a virgin, but he’s never had a partner long enough to bother learning. if he can make you feel good and vice versa, that’s enough, right..?!

he’s not going to bludgeon you with his dick, he knows he’s a bit too big and thick to just fuck you recklessly, but often times he does get excited or fretful— too deep or too shallow, flicks your clit like it’s indestructible or keeps his head between your thighs waaay after you’ve already come. he’ll stop when you ask, when you’re teary eyed and overstimulated repeating the ridiculous German word he makes you use. not above begging you to use your hand on him instead, though…

switching positions is difficult if you’re a lot smaller than him. he’s not against having you on your knees, but he wants to be so close, pant into your ear about how good you feel, smother you with his weight all the while. missionary is a nightmare because he’s drooly and comes far too quickly when he can see your face and overpower you like this, cue further squishing even after he’s done; you’re likely going to be lying beneath him all night. cowgirl seems to work best, though he’s a bit too fond of having your tits so accessible - expect biting!!

when i try to think of König with any sort of hobby my mind just blanks. i think he would try a lot, but never stick to one thing! he’s got a few sporadic collections, but nothing he keeps up with to the same caliber as his guns and knives. books are often half-finished these days, keeping focused long enough to sit through a puzzle or the like is rare. definitely longs to have something for comfort that isn’t some winding trail to no where or suffocating you in himself to just have a hint of what it feels like to be entirely happy and ‘normal’.

he’s become a bit of an amalgamation of all of the things he liked as a child: knights with their swords he thinks of as his knives, deities with bolts of thunder cascading from their hands like the bullets from his guns, loves in the way he read men of myths fall in love - utterly unfathomably devoted but always the leader… if he could he would probably whisk himself and the object of his affection to another place entirely where he could be someone deserving: someone who’s loved despite the way that he looks or behaves, someone who’s never had to question what love was at all.

[littlesunshine1223]

Hey you should totally write some fluffy/smutty head cannons for Marko and Dwayne plz

TLB Dwayne and Marko Headcanons

(CONTENT WARNING: the following content contains things such as feral vampires, blood, biting, smut, etc… Viewer Discretion Is Adviced)

Dwayne

SFW

- He’ll cuddle you after a long day and listen to you rant

- Laddie thinks of you as his new parent too and started calling you mama/papa

- sometimes when you’re both bored the two of you will make beaded bracelets for the others

- he loves to wrap his jacket around you whenever he knows you’re getting cold

- if you bring him gifts or do sweet gestures for him he’ll get flustered

- he buys/“barrows” anything you like from the boardwalk and any of your favorite foods

- whenever you’re around him he lets his walls down and will let his silly side show

- he loves tilting your chin up to look at him before he kisses you

- if you braid his hair then he’ll love you 100 times more then he already does

- You and him sneak into the movies all the time for date nights and sometimes the two of you bring Laddie along (like a happy family)

NSFW

- he’s a dom 100%

- he can be whatever you want him to be in bed, you want him to be rough then he’ll be rough and if you want him to be gentle then he’ll make the sweetest love to you

- he loves to cover you in hickeys, bites, and just any marks that he can still see for a couple days just because he loves the reminder of what the two of you did

- when he bites and ends up drawing blood from you he goes absolutely feral but he will listen if you tell him not to drink anymore

- if he’s worked up and you tease him then he’ll drag you off away from the others and bend you over the nearest surface when the two of you get privacy

- want him to make some pretty noises for you? Ride him and pinch his nipples or leave marks all over him

- wanna get him all hot and bothered? Bend him over something or grab his hips then tell him all the things you want him to do to you

- he’s really sensitive around his ribs so if you manage to be in charge and leave a few kisses there then he’ll whimper and beg for you

- if he’s in one of his feral ruts be prepared to wake up the next morning covered in love bites, unable to move properly, and him sleeping peacefully next to you

- if you’re in charge for the night then he’ll act a little bratty and try to hold back his noises of pleasure and he becomes really sassy

Marko

SFW

- his pigeons will start to flock around you whenever he’s busy somewhere else in the cave or wrestling around with Paul to settle an argument or just goofing around

- he will snuggle up to you and refuse to move if he knows you’re feeling sad or upset

- if you want a certain food from the boardwalk then he always magically has it with him

- if you give him a pin then he’ll draw on your arm, it helps him calm down if he’s upset too

- every time the two of you cuddle he will always want to use your chest as his pillow

- he’ll find the most random thing and bring it to you as a gift (bottle caps, pop tabs, shiny things, a spray painted brick he ripped out of the wall of a random building)

- if you’re tired he’ll let you lay on top of him on the couch and won’t let you up until after you’ve had a nap

- kisses with him are either really sweet and gentle or deep and rough there’s no in between

- if you’re cold he will bring you whatever you want to keep warm and if you want his jacket he’ll tell you to just be easy with the patches

- he loves when he wakes up and sees you waiting around the cave for him

NSFW

- he’s a solid switch (you can’t convince me otherwise)

- he can be rough and mean if you want him to and after at least a couple of spanks he’ll listen to you

- he loves to be balls deep inside you as you boss him around and tug his hair

- he loves to bite you and leave hickeys everywhere on you. you’ve had hickeys on your thighs, a trail down your stomach to your private parts, your neck, the bottom of your back, everywhere

- he will act like a brat if he doesn’t get what he wants and if you deny him a kiss when he’s subbing for you then he will start crying

- he wants you to be touching him 24/7 and never wants it to stop

- if he’s in a feral rut then he’s pinning you to the bed and ruining your chances of walking properly for a couple of days at least

- he loves the noises you make and if you try to hide them then he’ll stop completely and refuse to continue until he gets to hear how good he’s making you feel

- if you take his jacket off him then that night he’s pinning you down and punishing you by overstimulating you till you’re to the point of tears or on the verge of passing out. he will praise you by telling you how hot and sexy you look wearing it though

- he will go feral if you overstimulate or edge him for more then 3 rounds

[thedvilsinthedetails]

rosekiller microfic band au pt3

heyyy pt3 is here yayyy

I haven’t rlly read it thru again and I’m feeling pretty tired today so if there’s a quality dip that’s why but also we have some nice Barty POV which I find easier to write sooo balances out ig

also we have some Marlene in this one (u can thank @good-oldfashioned-lover-girl because I wasn’t gonna put her in but she loves Marls [not that I don’t] to and yk she’s the boss so 🫡🫡🫡 Marlene is in the fic and I’m actually glad bc I love her part in this)

oh also Reg is autistic in this [in my mind] so when I mention him wearing headphones it’s bc he wears headphones on public transport/often in public/during gigs to help block noise <3

oh also all the skittles have matching nail polish and little tattoos on their wrists (idk if I actually mention it here but just so u have it in ur mind)

Tags for ppl that (I think?) wanted to be tagged <3 : @depressedtheatrekiddo @blu3stars @picklerab23 @lady-stardust-incarnate @always-reading @no-names-work @y0url0verb0y @2bluetwo85 @idk-what-to-put-here-123 @weirdtinkerbellversion @lulublack90 @nikholascrow (please please do tell me if you don’t want to be tagged bc idm and obviously won’t be upset but I just don’t want to tag ppl that don’t actually want to be tagged so I’m just sort of guessing by who commented last time so um yeah)

Link to previous part

link to part one

link to next part

(Cw: lil bit of homophobia in here sorry)

***

By the time the train arrived at their station both Barty and Evan had dozed off. Arms wrapping around each other, bodies curled into one another like a jigsaw puzzle. Evan didn’t wake up as gently as he fell asleep though because he was woken by Regulus kicking his seat aggressively. Once he finally opened his eyes he turned to face him. He was wearing his headphones, big and black originally but covered in splodges of spray paint from when Barty had offered to ‘customise‘ them for Regulus. He’d pushed them back though, now that the majority of people has filtered out of the little compartment.

“Hurry up and get your stuff.”

Regulus ordered before following Pandora and Dorcas who had already left.

Evan turned and tapped Barty gently to wake him up. Then when that didn’t work he shook him till he opened his eyes with a start. 

It took Barty a moment to realise where he was but even once he did he just grumbled.

“Ev don’t make me get up, please.”

He pouted, eyes wide and dilated in some kind of cheap attempt at cuteness.

“Come on you know you have to get up baby- Barty!”

Evan gaped, realising his mistake just too late. A slip of the tongue and he’d gone and fucked everything up.

“D’you just call me baby?”

A grin spread on Barty’s face and he poked Evan gently and laughed.

“You’ve been single too long Rosier.”

“You- you’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad, baby?”

Barty winked, clicking his tongue as he got up and shuffled past Evan with a wicked smirk.

•••

Barty was going insane. 

Evan had called him baby. Baby. And fuck his reaction had been visceral. But like…in a good way? It made him want to bite down on something hard but that thing was the muscles on Evan’s arms. Or bruise something but that thing was Evan’s neck…with a hickey or two. 

Something about the way it had slipped out so naturally, so warmly. It just made Barty’s heart flutter. Made him want to grab Evan and shake the sense out of him enough to like Barty. Something along the lines of ‘kiss me, ruin me, dear God I’m begging you.’ Ah well, nothing you can’t really do about these kinds of situations except get on with it. Lying was something Barty had gotten very good at from a young age and not stopped since. Some might call it acting but those were the types of people who were just trying to convince themselves they were good and moral. Barty didn’t really care enough about that kind of stuff to bother. White lies this and how it contrasts with malicious lies that, like someone trying to section off a gradient in two. You can’t, it’s all the same monochrome blur in the end. 

Barty was lost in this little daydream when he heard Pandora roar.

“WHAT?!”

Now Pandora didn’t often roar, maybe laugh maniacally every now and then yes, but yell? Scream? That was never her type of thing. Save for some rare occasions that Barty could probably count on one hand. Pandora yelling meant it was time to stop daydreaming about Evan’s curls or Evan’s hands with their chipped green nail polish or Evan’s fucking tight t shirts. Yeah time to stop thinking about that and listen up. So he did.

“I do not intend to offend anyone by it.”

Riddle raised his hands up defensively with a cheap sleazy smile that immediately made Barty dislike him.

“I’m just saying that this venue prides itself on a distinct lack of…untoward behaviour. It’s not a massive deal, I think your lead and backup singers can use separate microphones for two nights of a six month tour. 

“What the fuck man?”

Barty stepped forward immediately hands curling into fists, Riddle was pretty short, he could definitely take him if that’s what it came to.

“Barty stop, that isn’t the right way to solve things. Come on let’s just- let’s come back later ok? See if we can talk to someone else, not this piece of shit.”

Dorcas spat out the last three words as she pulled Barty back to the group.

He was going to argue till he felt Evan put a hand on his shoulder, instead he just left Evan guide him away after the rest of the group.

“We’ll figure it out ok?”

“Fucking- Ev we can’t play there. They’re fucking homophobic.”

“Barty the O2 has been your dream since-“

“I DONT BLOODY CARE!”

“Barty shut the fuck up. I said we’ll talk about it and we will, we will figure it out but stop acting like a goddamn CHILD.”

Barty looked over at Evan who had his teeth bared, slightly wild look in his eyes. He was seething too, clearly. Just more mature than Barty.

“Ok, yeah.”

He breathed in.

“I’m sorry Ev.”

“Hey it’s alright. It’s just important the band shows a united front against this you know? We can’t split up or in fight because then, well then we all lose.”

“Yeah. Yeah you’re right Rosie. But we will do something.”

“I promise you they’re not getting away with this.”

Evan nodded. He tossed a hand over Barty’s shoulder, pulling him in just a little bit closer as they walked. Barty wasn’t complaining. 

•••

“You don’t get it Marls, we can’t just not play the O2. We’d lose way too much money off it, probably too much to be able to continue with the rest of the tour. Plus venues will think we’re unreliable and might cancel or pull out. Riddle is such a fucking dick, he only told us when we went there for a tech practice literally today.”

“Fuck yeah that’s shitty.”

Marlene was sat next to Barty on the floor of his hotel room, helping him repaint his nails. The entire band had them matching, a bright toxic green, his had started to fade though. 

“What if you just…ignore them? Do it anyway?”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s not like they can drag us off stage mid performance.”

“Not without exposing their homophobia.”

“Still…I wanna make a statement. Something big you know? Show them they can’t straight wash us.”

Marlene looked up at Barty, eyes twinkling mischievously.

“I might have an idea then.”

•••

Evan was sat in an alcove in the hotel corridor watching Regulus patiently braid and unbraid Pandora’s hair on the sofa opposite him. It calmed them both down whenever they were stressed. And Barty and Marlene, locked up together in Barty’s hotel room. Both raging homosexuals dead set on never following rules talking amongst themselves just before the biggest gig of the band’s history? Yeah that was a reason to be stressed. That’s when he heard the tell tale clump of Barty’s docs down the corridor. And he was walking with purpose.

As soon as he came into view Evan noticed the way his eyebrows were knotted together yet his eyes were glimmering with excitement. Evan had no clue what Barty was going to say next but it wasn’t that.

“Marlene thinks I should kiss you.”

Barty announced and Evan dropped his jaw, staring at him agape.

“What?”

“And I agree with her.”

“What?”

***

OK HOPE U LIKED IT

xxx BYEEEE

pt4 probs gonna come soon bc I swear this fic has a life of its own

[intelligentbees]

“I still hate you,” Tony mutters, voice shaky and entirely unconvinced while his hand expertly unbuckles the clasps of the uniform he designed so carefully, months and months and months ago.

“I know,” Steve responds gruffly. His beard scratches Tony’s jaw as those perfect teeth run down the thin skin of his neck, trace his jugular. His hands are rough iron clamps against each side of Tony’s beautifully tailored Versace two-piece. The fabric will be ruined beyond repair in less than ten minutes - Tony could bet his fortune on it.

They’ve played this stupid game before. Every time, Tony swears it’ll be the last.

Steve hitches him up onto the kitchen counter of the ridiculous New Jersey safehouse, and Tony goes willingly, yanking Steve into the open spread of his legs. This is the closest Steve’s gotten to New York since he first read those damned accords. The closest he can get to home is some 1965-styled kitchenette with pictures of old-timey adverts lining the walls and a microwave that’d probably irradiate you if you went near it.

It’s wrong- all of it. But there’s no changing it. Steve made his choice long ago, and Tony hates him for it. He should remember that. He should tell Steve that again.

“Fuck, God, Steve,” is what comes out instead, breathed against the other man’s mouth. Tony’s whole body is hot, taught, desperate, and he tugs the top half of Steve’s uniform off his torso. Steve spray painted over the colours- the whole thing is dark now, void of any trace of what it used to be. Tony hates that too.

“Tony,” Steve says, like there’s more to it- a name at the beginning of a sentence which never comes out. He clasps his teeth over Tony’s bottom lip, pushes his hands under Tony’s rapidly-wrinkling shirt and brushes his thumbs over each nipple, rubbing quick circles. The movement pulls another noise from Tony’s throat.

Fuck- the man knows him.

Steve steadies himself for a moment to catch his breath, nose brushing against Tony’s. Tony tries not to look into his eyes, whenever they do this. He’s never been good at seeing Steve’s soul - the one he never tries to hide, to mask. He’s not like Tony, you see. Everything he does, he does earnestly and from the heart.

The decision he made to leave with Bucky - to keep the culprit of Tony’s parents’ deaths a secret from him - they’d both come from that same heart. Hence, no eye contact. Tony has no desire to see how truly insignificant the space he takes up in Steve’s soul was.

Except now.

He does it without meaning to- just catching sight of those infuriating baby blues as he leans in for another messy kiss. Error number 1.

Error number 2 is not shutting his damn eyes and grabbing Steve’s dick like he normally does.

And error number 3 is the worst. Error number 3 is when he catches sight of Steve’s suddenly agonised expression, doesn’t ignore it, and instead asks “what?” Thus inviting conversation. They don’t come here for that. They come here to fuck eachother’s brains out for a night and then keep playing their cat-and-mouse chase across the globe as if anyone in a position of authority actually fucking believes it.

Steve goes perfectly still for a moment. Then he swallows. “This… this really makes you miserable, doesn’t it.”

He doesn’t frame it like a question.

Tony looks up at him, breathing hard. “Oh, I’m sorry I’m not looking ecstatic while getting groped by my ex boyfriend in a place that’s decked out like a prop house in a nuclear testing site. Would you prefer for me to giggle jovially while you fuck me amongst the dust and cobwebs?”

They’d used to have sex that was so full of love. This is how Tony always talks to Steve, now.

Steve shakes his head, a minute, grieving little thing. Tony feels the man’s breath skating across his face- feels the warmth of his bare chest, his shoulders, pressing against Tony.

“I thought…” he begins, then trails off for a moment as Tony skirts his hands down his chest, unlatches his belt. “I thought this made you happy. At least a little bit, even if you didn’t admit it. But it doesn’t. ”

Of course it doesn’t. But it’s all I have left of you.

“You think I’m coming here to find happiness? Jesus Steve. I’m coming here for tension relief,” Tony says, because he just can’t be truthful- he did his best when they were together, he really did, and it all failed anyway. Besides: Steve was never as truthful as Tony had always so fervently believed him to be either. “How about we both just stop talking and get down to that part.”

He gets his hands all the way to Steve’s boxers before Steve stops him- a gentle yet utterly unmoving grip. When Tony looks up at him again, Steve shakes his head. He’s grey in the face- if Tony didn’t know better now, he’d even say heartbroken.

“Tony, I…” Steve’s struggling for the words and he looks so beautiful, so so beautiful, just the same as the very first time Tony laid eyes on his photograph in the SHIELD folder he’d hacked his way into. “I didn’t realise you felt that way. Or maybe I did, but just didn’t want to acknowledge it because I was selfish.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I can’t do this with you. To you.” Steve steps away jerkily, half his body lagging while the other half pulls, as if warring with his own system. His pale skin is patchy, covered in faint marks where Tony has grabbed him. “I thought we were both doing this for enjoyment, but you’re not, and so I can’t. It’s cruel.”

Tony realises what Steve is implying here. His heart - what’s left of the poor thing anyway - convulses in panic, and he stumbles off the counter. “I’m not a fucking dog,” he snaps, “I make my own choices.”

“You don’t even look at me,” Steve’s voice breaks then. “I wished more than anything that you’d look at me. But I just saw it, then, when you did.”

“Saw what?”

They’re facing off against one another now - it’s like they can’t stop themselves. They have to be on either side of the argument, they can never just agree, no matter how hard they both want to. Tony hates and hates and hates.

“Your eyes don’t lie to me, Tony.” Steve’s voice is soft, and he says it like that alone is enough. “Your mouth does. And you don’t want this.”

“See, do you see what you’re doing here, again?” Tony steps forward, smashes his finger against the place where the star used to sit proudly on Steve’s chest. “You’re making an executive decision about how I feel, as to what I need, when you don’t have that right. You don’t get to decide what’s best for me!”

“But you never do what’s best for you!” Steve’s hands flail helplessly. “You do what’s best for everyone else, or what you think you deserve, and you never think about how it’s going to hurt—“

“I DESERVED TO KNOW MY PARENTS WERE MURDERED, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!”

Tony was supposed to be making his way to an orgasm right about now - instead he suddenly feels so angry he can hardly breathe. Fucking typical. He just had to go and open his mouth, didn’t he?

He glares at the man who tore his heart out over a year ago. Steve looks back, his expression shattered. Tony feels angrier still when he realises that he’s never going to be able to see this person in front of him and not love him. He’s trying so hard, right now, and he can’t. Even after all this. He can’t find it in him.

“Just fuck me,” Tony says, and it comes out more exhausted than demanding.

Steve shakes his head. “I can’t.”

Right. Steve’s made up his mind about what’s best for tony. Again. Was it ever going to go any other way?

Sometimes, the tiredness goes so deep that Tony starts to feel it in his bones. His therapist says it’s psychosomatic- that bones don’t actually creak and groan like wooden doors in abandoned houses. Tony begs to differ.

“If we stop now, this is the last time you’ll ever see me,” he says, hoping, even now, that maybe something will change. That maybe for once, Steve will just put him first.

It’s a pipe dream. Tony comes to that realisation as soon as Steve shakes his head. Stupid.

“Maybe that’s for the best.” Steve’s voice is hoarse. Like each word is painful. Tony wishes that were true - in reality, he doesn’t doubt Steve is just wary of the fight his words will bring - the argument that’ll erupt out of Tony’s mouth in response.

But Tony’s done fighting. It’s a losing battle. Always has been.

He looks at Steve. Nods.

He walks out of the door without another word.

[modanisgf]

1. MAGNETIC (WRITTEN)

wc: 0.6k

warning(s): profanity, main character gets hurt

“bye dani!” y/n says as danielle drops her off at her house.

“bye!” dani waves, leaving as soon as the front door shut. making her way down the street, as she only lived a bit away from y/n.

danielle decided to check in with yunjin before she went home, knowing the girl was on the clock.

dani opened the door of the deli, pleased to see yunjin at the register.

“hi yunjin! how’s business?” she asks, yunjin sighing.

“it’s been good, but i would really love to go home.” yunjin says, danielle nodding.

“when are you off the clock?” dani asks.

“in about thirty minutes, why?” yunjin asks.

“you wanna go to the old subway station with me?” danielle says, grabbing chips and an orange drink.

“i’m so down.”

shortly after, the two girls found themselves standing before a wall spray paint cans beside them.

“damn, it’s been a while since i’ve been here. your arts getting crazy good dani.” yunjin says, making danielle smile.

“it’s a work in progress, i still wanna get into that art school when i graduate.” danielle says.

“you still going for music?” she asks yunjin.

“yeah, but my parents aren’t exactly on board with it. they think i’ll go bankrupt.” yunjin scoffs.

“i mean it’s your life, and i don’t think you will. you’re good at what you do.” danielle says.

“thanks.” yunjin says sheepishly.

“you’ll be alright, don’t worry.” danielle reassures.

“anyways, pick whatever u want from other there and get started.” danielle says, yunjin nodding.

the silence between the girls was comfortable, the only noise coming from the entrance being cars driving by on the roads.

“hey dani?” yunjin perks up, causing danielle to look at her.

“yeah?” dani asks.

“you ever gonna confess to y/n?”

“huh—“ danielle starts, getting cut off immediately by a spider climbing her arm. the spider bit her quickly and disappeared, causing the girl to grimace in pain.

“hello? danielle?” yunjin calls out to her, finally turning towards her as she runs over.

“holy shit are you okay?” yunjin asks.

“what the hell happened?” her eyes diverted down to dani’s wound, eyes widening at the sight.

“oh shit, we gotta get out of here.” yunjin says.

“wait but i still need to—“ danielle groans at the pain, she didn’t know what spider bit her but she really hoped it wasn’t a poisonous one. though with this pain, she wasn’t even sure.

yunjin had packed up all of danielle’s equipment quickly, making her way back over to the girl.

“can you walk?” she asks.

“i don’t think so.” danielle sighs.

“c’mon.” yunjin says, now carrying danielle on her shoulder. yunjin hoped y/n wouldn’t be miraculously outside once they walked down her and dani’s street, she would never see the light of day again.

finally, they arrived at danielle’s house. yunjin sighs in relief, “do you have your keys?” she asks.

“yeah.” dani says, handing her keys to yunjin.

the girl unlocks the door soon after, praying that danielle’s parents wouldn’t be waiting there for them, she wasn't ready for that to be their first conversation. noticing the empty living room, yunjin carried danielle to there, dropping her off on the couch.

“i’ll be right there, i’m gonna go find your first aid kit.” yunjin says, danielle only being able to nod in response.

the pain was so excruciating, danielle wished she was able to identify the type of spider that bit her. she was horrified it was going to be bad.

yunjin came back rather soon, the girl immediately tending to dani’s wound.

“okay, you should be good now.” yunjin starts, “just take it easy and rest.”

danielle nods before laying her head down on the couch, “see you tomorrow?”

“see you.” yunjin says before leaving the house.

dani stared up at the ceiling a bit before finally drifting off to sleep, the quietness soothing her.

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[manicplank]

Headcanon time!

How do they act when they're sick?

Peppino: Stoic. Won't admit he's sick. If he's not vomiting, he won't stay home. Pushes himself through it. "Be a man, die at work" kind of mindset. Gustavo has to yell at him before he'll go home. Ends up sleeping 12 hours.

Gustavo: Stays home and takes care of himself like the average person would. Lots of sleep, hot tea, and chicken soup. Gets lots of rest. Occasionally buys nasal spray so he can breathe through his nose.

Mr. Stick: Googles his symptoms and convinces himself that he's dying. Cries. Lays in bed and embraces it. Doesn't die. Goes out and buys nyquil. Sleeps it off for the most part. Gets a little snippy.

Pepperman: Tries to hide it but fails. Has a coughing fit that echoes through the whole tower. Can't even find the energy to paint. He usually troops it out but might take something to help.

The Vigilante: Panics at first, thinks his old age is catching up to him (he isn't even THAT old). Once he realizes he's not dying, he nurses it with old fashioned remedies. Steam and hot tea.

The Noise: Tries to be stoic at first but fails. Sniffles, sneezes, and coughs every two seconds. Noisette has to force him to stay in bed. Insists he can take care of himself and tries, but Noisette takes over (he secretly loves being babied). Sleeps it off. Can be a bit crabby.

Noisette: Super big drama queen when she's sick. Can't stand being sick, absolutely hates it. Gets pretty cranky and cries a couple times. Noise cares for her as she will refuse to leave bed. He tries to stick to good remedies but gets suckered into giving her whatever she wants;

"Can I please have some ice cream?"

"I think you should have something healthy-"

"BUT I DON'T FEEL GOOOOOD!!"

"OKAY, okay, I'll get you some ice cream."

Fake Peppino: Is immune to most illnesses and diseases. Doesn't seem to understand them, either. Gets worried when someone is sick, immediately thinks they're dying. Cries.

Pizzahead: BIGGEST. DRAMA QUEEN. EVER. He doesn't need to Google his symptoms to convince himself that he's dying. He gets the slightest sniffle and starts writing his will (he usually leaves everything to his ghost). Stays in bed and chooses one of the bosses or Gerome to take care of him. Gets super cranky and nasty.

Pillar John: One of those guys that rarely gets sick. You could inject him with a virus, and he still wouldn't get sick. When he is sick, it's so minor that he doesn't even realize it. He gets a sniffle and thinks it's just allergies.

Gerome: A lot like John, he hardly ever gets sick. He's generally a clean guy with a good immune system. If he gets sick, it only lasts a day if not a few hours.

[siriussslut]

can you possibly do another thing with evan? thanks !

i had another request for a short one with evan and bdsm, which i accidentally deleted, so that’s why this one is so rough & short loll. hope u like it anyways!

warnings: smut, bondage, blindfolded sex, handcuffed sex, throatfucking, choking, use of “slut”

masterlist

he fucks your throat at a brutal pace, barely letting you catch a breath. tears slide down your face as you take him, balls-deep despite his immense size. the blindfold covering your eyes is soaked through with a mixture of liquids from the both of you, and your hands are handcuffed behind your back, bumping into your ass after every thrust.

“throat’s so fucking tight,” he mumbles, thrusting again.

you whimper around him as he hits the back of your throat, making a soft squishy noise.

his hands are suddenly on your neck, squeezing the air out of you. “shut the fuck up, slut.”

you sob as he squeezes harder.

just when you feel as though you can no longer take it, he lets go, pulling his dick out.

you gasp for air, lightheaded, and are immediately sprayed by his cum. you cry as he paints your face with his babies, marking you as he is.

[sibbydoo]

— [🦔💙⚡️] SONIC THE HEDGEHOG

I got into Sonic recently when a friend showed us Netflix’s ‘Sonic Prime’, and I just had to draw how I imagined the gang to look like as humans!! So here are some gijinka studies :3

SONIC

NOTE: I imagine he’d do street art and have spray paint stains all the time. He’s got headphones, probably to block out noise once in a while, especially when running the track. Idk if athletes actually can wear these on the track, but it’s a nice thought.

SHADOW

NOTE: I think this was my favorite outfit to draw, especially his shoes!! Emo skater boy realness.

AMY

NOTE: Dear Ames was so fun to draw, mostly because of her hair and her pose. She’s so cute. I debated on giving her a new outfit but decided her red dress was adorable; I just added the pink tights last minute cause I thought it’d be cute as well. I LOVE her boots.

TAILS

NOTE: My boy. My darling. My baby. I was immediately reminded of Hiro Hamada and little Nico di Angelo when I met Tails, so I had to incorporate my favs into this study somehow. Iykyk. I thought making his hair have white tips (like the og Tails’ two tails) was clever xD

ROUGE

NOTE: MOTHER. She is so. Ugh. I LOVE her. I added the bat because. Bat. Aren’t I so clever (Don’t answer that). I like to think that she does everyone’s nails, tattoos, and piercings. She’s got her apartment open for the gang to hang out whenever; she adores them and they love her sm. (Same) Also PEAK fashion sense!!

KNUCKLES

NOTE: My man!!! Knucks was the most fun to draw, tbh. His shoes are so silly, his colors are so vibrant and strong, and I love drawing him looking serious when I know he’s my goofy goober. (I mean yes he’s more than capable of knuckle-yeeting me into Kingdom Come, but he’s still my silly not-little guy)