#also how we all say he was torture to halt

[that-one-enby-ranger]

Gilan: So I can either do something dumb that could very well get me injured or I can listen to Halt and not do the thing,  Gilan: Well there’s a clear right answer here.  Gilan: *proceeds to throw five packs of mentos into a barrel full of diet coke*

#rangers apprentice #ra #halt o'carrick #ra memes #ranger's apprentice #ranger apprentice #john flanagan #incorrect rangers apprentice #gilan davidson #gilan no #damn it gilan #i like how even though in the books gilan isn't stupid at all #we're all just like yeah he's a dumbass #or at least i am #also how we all say he was torture to halt #but i don't think there's any proof of that at all #we just all collectively agree “yeah that happened” #i find it funny

[usagikookiejams]

A/N: Hey peeps! Sorry for the long wait 👉🏻👈🏻 I was busy for quite some time due to the final examinations. I hope you guys don't mind me not updating for long. Okayy so here we go, enjoy!~

SOMEONE BAD MOUTHING YOU

Ryuguji Ken, Shiba Taiju, Sano Manjiro

⚠️Warning: curse words, aggressive behavior

Ryuguji Ken (Draken)

Today was weird, Draken felt like everyone was avoiding you for some reason. He couldn't quite put a finger on it. The school bell rang indicating recess time, he walked through the corridor to go to your classroom and have recess together. However, once he walked by the toilet, he heard a conversation mentioning about you, hence he halted his movement. "Do you know that Y/N from Class 3-1 was a bully during elementary school?," "Ugh, no wonder she's in relationship with Draken, they must enjoyed bullying people together during their elementary," the conversation continued which most of the time were about you. Draken couldn't hold it any longer, he has knew you since the elementary! He knew how you were a timid kid, and instead, you were the one that were bullied! That was why he came to your rescue and protected you since then. He approached those students in the toilet, "Repeat that again. I want to decipher whatchu you mean by that... ." They all frozed in their spot, not knowing how to reply. "He! He was the one saying that!," one of them pointed out at a certain guy. Huh..? Draken knows him, he was the guy that confessed to you before and he also went to the same elementary school you both went to. Draken felt enraged and grabbed the said guy's collar. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to say that!," "As if! You literally throwing dirt on her name and now you are denying it!." Fast forward, Draken arrived at your class but with the man tailed behind him, "Kenny, why is he here?," you asked curiously. "This guy will confess his sin in front of the school gate after school, you will see why," Draken smirked. Glad to say by the time the school ended, the guy were kneeling in front of you while screaming how he made up those rumour as a revenge for your rejection. The next day, many students approached you to apologize for believing those lies.

Shiba Taiju

Taiju were currently relaxing in his office room. He has ordered one of his subordinate to grab him a drink at the coffee shop across the street. He was minding his own business when suddenly he heard those subordinates of his were chit-chatting at the garden. He happened to hear their conversation due to him currently sitting by the open big window in his office. "Y/N has made our boss becoming less powerful! I hate her! I joined Black Dragon as I admired our boss so much due to his power and strength! But it seems like our boss has become mellow once she came into the frame. How I wish I could broke them up so that we gotta have our old boss back!," the guy that was ordered by Taiju has voiced out his complaint to another subordinate. Without a warning, Taiju jumped from the window and luckily he didn't broke any bones considering that it was quite high. After landing, he threw a punch towards the guy's face. The impact was very shocking, as the guy broke some of his tooth and coughing blood in the process. "I asked you to get me a coffee! Not to badmouthed my girlfriend, asshole!," he kicked the guy in the stomach. The poor guy sworn on his life that he was joking. "Joking my ass! You fucking think I'm dumb huh?!," Taiju continued to punish him. "Drag this guy to the torture room, do as I said or you will become the next target!," Taiju ordered the other subordinate. By the next hour, you entered his office and you could see Taiju was smiling by himself. "Err scary! Why are you smiling like that when no one is around?," you asked him. Taiju walked over to you and hugged you, "Nothing babe. I am just glad that a pest was diposed! He was such an eyesore... ."

Sano Manjiro (Mikey)

Mikey was currently waiting for everyone at the Toman's meeting area. While waiting, he saw some of the Toman's members started to gather there. It seems like none of them noticed him as he waited near the big tree. Mikey started to hear mumblings from the group, so he started to eaves-dropped to their conversation. "Where is Y/N?," "I don't know, maybe she didn't feel like tagging along this meeting anymore," "Glad to hear that, she's no use. I don't know why Mikey let her participates in our meeting. It's not like she helps us fight too." Mikey started to see red, what the hell were they saying about you?! He got up from his position and walked over to the group, "I agree with you guys! Ugh... why would I ever let her in the meeting with us, right?." The group fell silent, most of them looked at Mikey horrified. "Hey, why are you guys not talking anymore? It's okay, just talk! Fill me in with the gossip you have," Mikey faux his smile. They remained silent, that is when Mikey felt like he couldn't take it anymore. He kicked one of them swiftly, making the guy thrown away quite far. The other guys were now begging for forgiveness, saying that they didn't mean what they said about you. Fast forward, you arrived at the meeting area with all of the other founder members of Toman. You ran to Mikey as you saw some of the members scattered on the ground, "What happened Mikey?! Did the enemy group attacked you guys?!." Mikey turned to look at you, "Hehe nothing happened babe! These guys wanna have a match with me so we did, but as you can see, I won!." You sighed and scolded him not to hurt his members anymore. Mikey just nodded his head and walk you along to the other founder members. Unfortunately, the next day, those guys that were found scattered on the ground were nowhere to be found, hmm you wonder why...

#tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev headcanons #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x y/n #tokrev headcanons #tokrev #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo rev fluff #tokyo rev x you #tr taiju #taiju headcanons #taiju shiba #taiju shiba x reader #taiju x reader #taiju x you #taiju x y/n #draken #tokyo revengers ryuguji ken #ken ryuguji #draken x you #draken x y/n #draken x reader #tr mikey #mikey x you #sano manjiro x reader #sano manjiro #manjirou x reader #majiro sano #manjiro x you

[uglypastels]

Eddie knows you have a voice kink and decides to take advantage of it 👀

(ie not me having a voice kink, absolutely not)

this took me too long but i also tried to rewrite this like four times because ughhhhh you are so fucking real for this one. im obsessed. so yeah, i hope you enjoy it <3 and thank you for the request

warnings: 18+ only MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. porn without plot, straight from the beginning. voice kink, so obviously dirty talk. fingering. mention of oral (f receiving). mention of p in v sex. bondage. (soft) dom!eddie.

masterlist // inbox //

‘Fuck sweetheart, you look so pretty, all spread out for me like that,’ Eddie smirked as he looked down at you. His hair fell over your face as he leaned in for a soft kiss, and his hands found their place at your hips. You couldn’t help but arch your back, feeling that gravitational pull that Eddie exerted… as the handcuffs dug into your wrists, there was little you could do but thrust your hips his way. 

‘So—fucking—pretty.’ He muttered between kisses over your cheek and jaw. ‘Could put you in a museum. Hang you up like this. Look at you all day.’ His voice was gruff, filled with the sexual frustration you were both tortured with over the past few hours, but the cheek and humour never left him. 

‘Maybe we should, hmm?’ His low hum sent shivers all through your neck and down your spine. ‘Hang you up, I mean. I still got that hook in the ceiling from the–’ 

‘Maybe– maybe next time, Eddie.’ It wasn’t the worst idea he had come up with, but you were so far gone you couldn’t imagine yourself getting out of this bed. All you could focus on was the deep growl of his voice– the meaning of the words barely even settled in your brain. 

‘It’s a deal, baby.’ He smiled and gave you another kiss which you returned with a moan. One of his hands had found its way up to your breast, pressing into the soft skin, thumb roaming over the most sensitive parts. 

‘Eddie,’ you moaned his name out softly, receiving another hum in response. 

‘I know, baby.’ He said after you got stuck on his name for a moment or two. ‘Don’t worry; I’ll make you feel good.’ His kisses were going lower and lower. Peppering your neck, breast, and abdomen. His path was marked out clearly. ‘So, good.’

But you whined in desperation as his lips reached below your stomach. If it hadn’t felt so good, maybe you would have been quicker on the notice, but despite it all, you still had needs. 

Eddie halted in his moves at your word. His grip on you tightened securely, big brown eyes locked in on you, checking for any signs of worry. With everything put on hold, you became more conscious of the fire burning in your body for him. Couldn’t lay still, but Eddie wouldn’t move.

‘What’s wrong, sweetheart?’ 

‘I don’t–’ He was so far away, and you couldn’t do anything about it with those damn handcuffs locking you in. They wouldn’t budge even at your hardest pull, and with each second, it was becoming harder and harder to think. ‘Eddie, I–’ 

‘Yeah?’ He rubbed his hand over your thigh. It must have been meant as reassurance, but all the triggers were shot up straight to your core. ‘Baby? Hey, are you still with me?’ 

‘Yes, just...’ You didn’t want to say it. Eddie raised a curious brow as you tried to spit out your wish.

‘Don’t go down on me. Not right now.’

‘Everything good down there?’ He squeezed your thigh a bit harder, a playful grin on his lips again.

‘Yes, it’s fine, fuck me if you want, just not– not with your mouth.’ 

Eddie couldn’t help the small scoff that passed his lips. ‘Ok… may I ask why?’ He tried not to look offended. You knew how much he loved this specific activity, and usually, you did too, but this time, something different got you going. 

‘Because I–’ you huffed out, ‘because I’m getting turned on by you talking right now, so I don’t want you to stop now just to eat me out.’ If you hadn’t been cuffed to the bed posts, you would have hidden underneath the covers in embarrassment. 

There was a second of silence as Eddie processed what you said. He blinked slowly and started to climb his way back up to the head of the bed. Arms on either side of you, locking you in even more. 

His lips were nearly on yours as he spoke again. ‘Speaking of talking, we should do something about this shyness of yours. You know I will do anything for you, princess, so why not just tell me? You’re a big girl, aren’t you?’ 

 ‘Y-yes.’ The small word got caught in your throat. Nevertheless, Eddie rewarded it with a brief kiss.

‘Hmm, so you want me to talk,’ he said after pulling away, ‘what should I talk about?’ 

‘Anything— sex!’ You added quickly, knowing how Eddie could be with his humour. ‘Anything that’s– you know.’ 

‘You want me to say what I wanna do to you? How I’m going to fuck you? Hmm, is that what my princess wants?’ With each word, his voice got deeper, darker. 

‘Yes, please.’  While yours became breathless, encapsulated in moans. ‘Please, Eddie.’

‘God, I love how you beg for me, how you say my name. Gonna make you scream it tonight, baby. You’re gonna be my good girl and scream for me when I stretch your tight little pussy, hmm? Will you do that for me?’

‘Yes, yes, yes.’ You squeaked out the last word when you felt his hand down on you. 

‘Thought so. Always so good for me.’ Eddie slowly started closing his fingers in on your slit, carefully approaching it with his next question too. ‘Would have loved to have my mouth on you now, sweetheart. Lick you fucking up… but my fingers will do for now, won’t they?’ He said it as if the feeling of having him deep inside you wasn’t ecstatic. Like you didn’t daydream about those fingers almost every day. 

 ‘I want them in me, Eddie. Fuck. I need it.’ And as soon as he heard it, Eddie started rubbing those close circles on your clit, getting you even more hot and bothered and ready for what was next to come. 

‘Fuck, you’re so wet, baby.’ He had a Cheshire cat smile across his face as he kept on teasing your slit. ‘All for me? All for my voice?’ 

‘You know it is.’ It wasn’t the first time you expressed your love for how Eddie sounds. You had told him on several occasions he had a hot voice, both on and off stage and in bed, but this time was certainly on a new level. Something in you felt like you could cum just from listening to him. 

‘Perhaps, but I’d still like you to say it.’ He kissed your cheek. 

‘Your voice turns me on so fucking much, Eddie.’ At this moment, he finally decided to insert his fingers and push them deep inside you. ‘Oh, fuck.’

‘I fucking adore you, baby. Taking my fingers so well– shit, I can feel you clenching as I speak. Oh, you really do love it, don’t you? Just wait until I really have my way with you– oh, fuck.’ He chuckled as you reacted to his words and actions. He leaned in so his words would be directly at your ear. Soft but nasty whispers to electrify your whole being. ‘Just imagine how good it will feel when I have my cock inside you, baby. Fill you up and fuck all thoughts out of you. Until you can’t say anything but my name. Until you can’t think about anything but me.’

‘Eddiee,’ you whined as he sped up his movements, making you shake with his fingers alone. 

‘That’s right, baby. C’mon, don’t be scared to be loud. Do you know how hot you fucking sound like this? All fucked out, and because of me? Hmm, want everyone around to know how good you’re being treated here. My princess fucked like a proper queen, aren’t you?’ 

All you could do was nod. You could hear the wetness of your pussy by this point. The tight knot in your stomach was only getting worse, ready to burst, while Eddie had no intention of stopping soon. 

‘Yeah, you’re close, hmm?  Yeah, I can tell. Fuck, c’mon, come for me, baby.’ His was was so deep and aggressive that it felt more like growling. ‘Come on, my fingers. C’mon.’

When it finally happened, your whole body went limp as the pleasure overcame you.

Eddie praised you through it all, his voice now covered in honey. ‘Such a good girl. Fuck, you did so well.’ But it might have all become too much when he pulled his fingers out of you, now glistening in your juices, and put them in his mouth. He hummed with satisfaction at the taste and, once done, smiled wickedly once more and said: ‘Divine, I tell you, sweetheart. Fucking. Divine.’ His hand was soaked up to his wrist, so he went to lick his palm. ‘Might have to go in for more later on either way.’

‘Give me a moment, why don’t you,’ you laughed, out of breath.

‘Of course, of course.’ He kissed your forehead. ‘But don’t think I’m done with you just yet.’ 

the end.

yeah, kinda ironic ending there. lol. sorry.

but thank you so much for reading!! please consider supporting with comments and reblogs <3 (maybe leave a review??) I would love to see what you thought of it <3

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie munson pwp #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #fanfiction #fanfic #smut #pwp #fic #blurb #imagine #request

[zepskies]

This is more of a Sam and Dean request than a reader and Dean request but what about Sam having a crush on Dean's gf? How would he react to that, I am honestly CRAVING angst and this is the angstiest, is that a word, thing I could think of, I am so sorry if you don't like angst or this makes you uncomfortable!!!

Oh my God. You killed me with this one, hun. 😫😫 I have another SB imagine coming next week, but I thought I'd put out this one for Dean to break it up a bit.

Pairing: Dean W. x Reader, one-sided Sam W. x Reader Word Count: 1,500

Imagine: You are Dean's one exception.

Sam knows it's wrong.

You're smart, with a degree in history that aids them well on hunts.

You're sharp, with a smart mouth that rivals Dean's (and keeps him on his toes).

But you're also kind. You take care of him and Dean with all the feminine grace and care they've never had in their lives.

Sam realizes it when he's up until 3 a.m. in the bunker's War Room. He's sat at the table, researching, eyes bleary, hands cramping from turning pages. And he finds a mug of hot tea sliding next to his idle hand on the table.

You're there with a smile and a hand on his shoulder. "Workin' hard or hardly working?"

Sam clears his throat and nods, chuckles a little. "I'm good." He eyes the mug. "Thanks, though I might need something stronger."

You eye him with gentle reproach. "Nope. Green tea is better for you this late at night. You really should go to sleep, Sam."

Sam tacitly agrees, but only because he can feel the warmth of your hand through his clothing, and it makes his face warmer than the tea. He watches you walk away, notices the curve of your ass in those little shorts. He can imagine your warm hands on his body, caressing him. He can imagine letting his lips graze your skin, exploring you, then devouring you.

And that's when his thoughts stutter to a halt. Sam inwardly cringes.

Despite his sleep-deprived brain, he's reminded that you're traveling down the hall to the room you share with his brother, and for Sam, it's nothing short of torture.

Because he realizes then that he isn't just fond of you. He doesn't love you like an older brother, or even a quasi-brother-in-law. He wants you.

Again, Sam knows it's wrong...but he can't help it. It's one of the saddest cliches in the fucking book. You're his brother's girl, and he wants you for himself.

And it's getting harder to hide it from Dean. They know each other too well -- a result of having no one but each other, but more practically, having lived in such close quarters for so long before they discovered the bunker.

When Sam gets hurt on a hunt, the cut is at a bad angle. He can't quite reach, so you dutifully come around and gently move his hand out of the way to do the stitch yourself. You tsk at him in playful disappointment. "I swear, it's a wonder you and Dean aren't walking patchwork quilts at this point."

Sam chuckles through his nose, wincing when the movement pulls on the stitch. You shoot him a stern look. "Stop moving."

"You're the one making me laugh!" he says, smiling incredulously.

"I don't accept excuses," you retort. "Keep still, please."

"Yes, ma'am," Sam says, his breath hitching for a different reason as he feels your soft hands along his side. He plays it off as pain. "Sorry," you murmur more sincerely. He tells you it's okay. His gaze flicks up, unconsciously finding Dean's face across the room.

He's just finished cleaning a cut on his hand. But he's been watching; Sam can tell. Dean's too perceptive not to notice Sam's discomfort. He probably even knows why. Sam can see a glint of it in Dean's eyes, the stoic front of his face.

"There we go!" you say in satisfaction, and you pat Sam's bare arm. He gives you a wan smile. "Thanks."

"You done, sweetheart?" Dean asks. You get up from your seat by Sam. "What do you need?" you ask.

"You. Come 'ere," he says with a smile, giving you a beckoning finger. "I felt that knot on the back of your head earlier. Think you're slick?"

You huff, but you also smile, in the way you only do for Dean. Sam watches you get up and go to Dean, who touches your cheek, stroking with a thumb first. Then he parts your hair to inspect the back of your head, and you wince a bit. You did fall pretty hard, now that Sam thinks of it. He frowns.

Dean lets out a deep breath. "You've got a nasty bump. You're taking it easy tonight, got it?"

"Yeah? Gonna help me relax?" you whisper. But Sam still hears you, because apparently no one taught you how the hell to whisper.

Dean smirks. "Watch it. I'll think you're flirting with me."

You give him a coy smile as your hand travels up his chest, between the open edges of his plaid shirt, then all the way down, to tease at his belt. "Believe me, when I do, you'll be the first one to know."

Dean's smirk deepens, but his eyes are softer. He closes a hand around yours and brings it to his lips. You lean up and request, wordlessly, for a kiss. Dean obliges you, capturing your lips with a soft kiss.

He eventually breaks from you, only to press his lips to your forehead next, closing his eyes with a sigh. He doesn't like it when you try to hide your injuries from him. You just don't want him to worry so much.

You smile and rest against his chest afterwards. It's clear as day what your heart holds.

It's hard for Sam to watch. His throat constricts, but he takes pains to avert his gaze.

He's so full to the brim with this that he sees no other recourse. He catches Dean alone in the kitchen and tries to make a confession. "Dean, we need to talk."

"Can it wait 'til I'm done?" Dean's plating up some stovetop mac and cheese -- your favorite.

"You're done cooking," Sam points out. Dean looks up at him. "We're doing a little dinner in bed situation. I made her promise to take it easy."

Sam admires the way Dean takes care of you. He really does. But it's also like a small oyster knife twisting in his gut. "Good. I'm glad," is all he says. "Yeah, we can talk later."

"Later" doesn't come for a long time. Weeks, in fact. But every time he tries to broach the problem, Dean finds a way to wiggle out of having the conversation. Always a distraction. A hunt. A fire you almost started in the kitchen. Being "in the middle" of something -- something in the bedroom that you insist needs Dean's immediate attention. Sam gives up for a while after that.

But Winchesters are nothing if not goddamn stubborn. Sam finally catches Dean alone in his room for once. You've gone to the grocery store, leaving the brothers alone in the bunker, but not for long, so Sam needs this chance.

"Dean, can we talk?"

Dean looks up at his brother from where he sits on the edge of his bed. He taps his knee, releases a breath. They both know what this is.

"Are you gonna do more than talk?" Dean asks. It's not what Sam expects. "What?"

"Whatever's on your mind, are you ever gonna do something about it?" Dean asks.

Sam stares back at his brother. He thinks. Hard. He's flipped back and forth for months. If he tells you how he feels, it's over. Things will never be the same between the three of you. It'll confuse you. It might even hurt you. It'll hurt Dean. Sam loves you both, if in very different ways.

So Sam is a bit deflated when he raises his resigned gaze and meets his brother's. "No."

After a moment, Dean nods. "Then we've got nothing to talk about."

But... Sam wants not to want you. Not to love you. Deep, deep down, a large chunk of him feels that he shouldn't have to hide himself. That you have a right to know the depths of what he feels, and what he feels for you.

"I see you're not convinced," Dean says dryly. Sam is silent, until Dean sighs and beckons him over. Sam obliges and sits down next to his older brother, the man he's looked up to (at least metaphorically) his whole life.

"I'd give my life for you. You know that. Right, Sammy?" Dean says. "If I couldn't tear the world apart, I'd lay myself out flat."

Sam sighs. "Dean..." Of fucking course he knows that. Dean already had given his life for him once. Remembering that only adds to Sam's guilt.

Dean meets Sam's gaze directly then. "But this is where I draw the line. She's my line," he says. His face is almost stoic, but his eyes are filled with unyielding fire. "I'm not layin' down on that. Not for you. Not for anyone."

Sam's heart clenches with every kind of pain, but he's also never respected his brother more. He nods. "I get it."

"No, you really fucking don't," Dean says. He's more than serious. "I mean it, Sam. I'll break your damn nose."

After a long moment, Sam nods. He knew Dean loved you. Of course he did. But this is the first time Sam truly understands how deeply. How completely. It's more than jealousy can fathom.

Sam realizes then that he lost, even before he began.

AN: Whew! 😮‍💨 I got way deeper into this than I expected to. Poor Sam. 😭 But I hope this scratched your angsty itch, my dear!

Read the Sequel

Here's the requested sequel to this: Sam crosses the line.

Also, if you want to read the reverse of this (Dean is in love with Sam's girlfriend): Dean gives you an impossible choice.

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean Tag List:

@hobby27 @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesdeanvessel @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @emily-winchester @deans-baby-momma @melancholictearz @luvs4dria @nic-kolas @katherineann83 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @tipthejar @ajjustice @thewritersaddictions @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @adoringanakin

@theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @mrshalverson2021 @iprobablyshipit91 @agalliasi @venicesem @waters-2567 @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @mimaria420 @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @beskarfilms @skyesthebomb @deans-spinster-witch @tmb510 @iamsapphine

#ask me stuff #dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #being deans one exception #sam in love with deans girlfriend #sam winchester #sam winchester imagine #sam and dean #angst #unrequited love #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #spn #supernatural #zepskies answers

[tired-and-ticklish]

Bonding Exercise

Sequel to “Rough Day”

Summary: Angel and Husk try to escape Charlie’s new idea for a bonding exercise, but The Princess, her girlfriend, and a certain Radio Demon are persistent.

TW: Tickling (slightly intense), Swearing, Slight Restraints, Alastor being a bastard, References to Alastor’s past, Angel Dust being Angel Dust.

Disclaimer: I do not support V*v*z*epop, I simply like the characters and exploring their dynamics, usually in silly ways.

Part Three

“One~”

Despite the distance the two demons had put between themselves and the Radio Demon, they both could clearly hear his voice, accentuating how absolutely fucked they were. Angel was a bit faster, his longer legs giving him an advantage, but Husk wasn’t far behind, running quicker than he ever had in his life or unlife.

“Split up!” Angel exclaimed, quickly turning down a random hallway.

“Don’t need to fucking tell me twice!” Husk replied, almost skidding to a halt as he course-corrected down an entirely different hallway.

Charlie stopped upon seeing them both go in different directions, pouting slightly “Now who do we go after?”

“How about you two go after our effeminate fellow, and I’ll go after Husker?” Alastor suggested, though Vaggie raised an eyebrow.

“We’re not trying to torture them.” The bodyguard replied, to which the deer waved a hand.

“If I intended to torture either of those two, everyone would know.” Alastor replied, the radio effects of his voice becoming more sinister, but just for a moment. “No, I simply think our dear bartender needs to smile a bit more!”

“Come on Vaggie, I think I know where Angel’s running!” Charlie exclaimed, grabbing her girlfriend by the arm before she could protest and starting down a different hallway.

Vaggie couldn’t help but give Charlie a smile, despite thinking the whole idea was a bit ridiculous. Still, it gave her an excuse to get Angel back for all the times the spider demon had messed with them, or done anything that pushed back his ‘progress.’ She also knew she couldn’t find it in herself to say ‘no’ to the Princess, especially when she got that determined glimmer in her eyes.

“Good luck, darlings!” Alastor called as they both ran off, before continuing his own pursuit of the bartender.

—

Angel ran as fast as his legs could carry him, listening for any signs of his pursuers. All he needed to do was get to his room and barricade himself in there until Charlie forgot this whole dumb idea. However, Hell was more likely to freeze over than its Princess giving up or forgetting any of her ideas.

The spider knew his room was close, and he hadn’t seen or heard any of the purseres. Maybe that all went after Husk? A small shudder went up Angel’s spine as he looked behind him. As much as he did not want to be tickled again, the idea of the cat demon being tickled by Charlie, Vaggie, and Alastor was a fate he wouldn’t wish upon anyone in the hotel.

“Oh Angel!” He was torn from his thoughts, looking forward and almost screaming as he saw The Princess and her girlfriend, waiting right in front of his door.

“Found you.” Vaggie said, grinning mischievously.

Angel attempted to turn on his heel, but couldn’t slow down enough for it to be effective. His legs got tangled in one another, and he tumbled to the floor, groaning as he did. Before he could even attempt to get up and flee, the girls were upon him, Vaggie holding his upper pair of arms over his head, while Charlie straddled his waist.

“L-Ladies please,” Angel attempted to beg, tugging his arms as best he could. “Y-You don’t have to do this.”

“Oh, we know.” Vaggie said with a sly grin. “But we want to.”

Charlie immediately started skittering her figures on Angel’s stomach, making the spider snicker. Angel attempted to shove the Princess off with his lower set of arms, but anytime he tried, Charlie would ‘accidentally’ tickle a bit harder, making him lose focus. 

“C-Chaahahaharlihihihihe wahahahait!”

“Awww but Angel, you look so happy right now!”

“Behehehecause yohohohou’re tihihihihckling mehehehe!”

Angel squealed as Charlie’s claws made their way to his lower set of armpits, shaking his head. In his attempts to plead with the Princess, he didn’t notice until it was too late that Vaggie had changed her position, pinning his upper arms with her legs, soon feeling her fingers on his ribs.

“EEP! NohhoohoHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHerehehehe!” Angel shrieked, his face turning a light pink shade.

“Hey, Angel, do you have more or less ribs as a spider?” Vaggie asked, ignoring his pleas. “Guess I need to double check.”

“Dohohohon’t YOHOHOOHHOU DAHAHAHRE, Vahahahahagina!”

The pornstar felt Vaggie stop tickling him for a moment, making him realize he had just dug his own second grave. Any begging he could have done was soon cut off by the feeling of the hotel guard’s fingers slowly and torturously dragging over his ribs, followed shortly by her counting.

“SHIHIHIHIT SIHIHIHHIT IHIHIHIHI’M SOHOHOHOHRRY!” Angel cried out, kicking his legs as the girls continued tickling him.

“Two… three… Fiv- Wait, that’s not right.” The spider could practically hear the smirk in Vaggie’s voice “Can you hold still? I’m trying to count.”

“IHIHIHIHI CAHHAHAAN’T!” Angel whined

“Aww, sure you can Angel!” Charlie said encouragingly. “I’ll even go slower so you can focus!”

At that, Angel felt Charlie’s tactic switch from scribbling on his lower armpits, and a finger on each one just slowly start circling around the hollows, driving him up a wall. It tickled just enough to get him giggling, but also left him wanting more. The spider was starting to get the suspicion that somehow, someway, the girlfriends had gotten Cherri Bomb to tell them exactly how to destroy him.

“Five… six… Huh, you’re actually doing a good job.” Vaggie said as she tickled between his ribs “Guess the redemption work is paying off.”

“Well, he hasn’t asked us to stop.” Charlie pointed out, making Angel’s face turn an even darker shade of pink. “Maybe he’s enjoying this~?”

Fuck, despite how kind Charlie was, she was absolutely fucking evil when it came to tickling. 

—-

Alastor hummed as he casually walked the direction Husk went. Sure, the Radio Demon could simply summon the bartender to him, but where was the fun in that? If there was one thing he loved more than the act of killing, it was the thrill of the chase. The fear and desperation in people’s eyes, the absolute panic that washed over as they were cornered, before he descended upon them.

An expression he’d like to see on that obnoxious, pompous, piece of shit television one day.

It was an expression he had seen Husker make many times over their years knowing each other. Though, often that was because the cat had done something to make the deer angry. Now? Now, Alastor would be seeing the hotel’s dear bartender making that expression for an entirely different reason.

It was one of the reasons he suggested to be the one to go after Husk. Not just due to their longer time knowing each other, but because the Radio Demon was already aware of what would cause the cat to break from his usual grumpy demeanor. Surely, people would assume Alastor of all people would think tickling was a waste of time, but oh, how he enjoyed it.

Spending time with both Husk and Niffty, he had learned a few things. Specifically, the maid wasn’t at all ticklish, whereas the bartender was entirely too ticklish for his own good. If nothing else, Alastor was known for dealing in extremes.

“Ah, there you are!” Alastor exclaimed, seeing Husk had run himself into a corner, the cat quickly turning to look at him.

“Shit, fuck, dammit!” A string of expletives left the bartender’s mouth as he tried to look for a way to escape. Any hopes of that were cut off by the shadows that followed the Radio Demon pinned the cat to the wall. “Look, boss, t-this whole thing is ridiculous.”

“Oh, on the contrary, Husker, I think this will be quite enjoyable!” Alastor said, looking the bartender over. So many good places to start, and each eliciting a different reaction from Husk.

Husk, meanwhile, tried to free himself. If he hadn’t known any better, the cat would have assumed Alastor somehow planned all of this. Which, he really couldn’t put past the deer, but planning for Nift to tickle Angel, leading to this whole thing? That was the type of planning not even the Radio Demon could come up with.

Mostly because no one could really ‘plan’ for anything with it came to the hotel maid.

“I recall this,” Alastor began, the claws on his right hand gently wiggling on Husk’s chin. “Being a wonderful place to start.”

The reaction was instant, the cat’s fur quickly puffing up slightly as he bit his lip. He wasn’t going to give the bastard the satisfaction, not if he could help it. Of course, he had tried, and failed, in the past, but that didn’t mean he was just going to give in to the Radio Demon’s antics.

“Still trying that tactic, are we?” The deer hummed in amusement, moving his other hand to Husk’s side. “I never understand why you must make things so difficult!”

A few snickers came out, but the bartender was determined, trying to squirm away from Alastor’s hands. Said hands simply followed where the cat moved. Now, Alastor could use his powers to tickle multiple spots at once, but that was something reserved for those who pissed him off enough to face his wrath, but not enough to where he’d be satisfied by killing them.

“You know, Husker,” Alastor said casually, like he wasn’t tickling the demon before him. “When we were filming that ridiculous commercial for the hotel, I had half a mind to have our darling Niffty tickle you, just off-camera, so you’d be smiling!”

“Bihihihihite me!” Husk replied, doing his best to glare at the Overlord.

“A poor choice of words, considering who you’re talking to.” The Radio Demon chuckled, now slowly moving his left hand toward the bartender’s side. “You should really think before you speak.”

Husk tried to growl at Alastor, but it was cut off by the ticklish feeling on his side. More snickers gave way, the cat demon’s lips forming a wobbly smile despite his best efforts. He felt the deer’s right hand move from his chin and start poking his ribs, making the bartender snort a bit. He knew the deer was messing with him, taking his time before going right for Husk’s death spot.

“I never tire of counting your ribs, Husker.” Alastor mused. “Afterall, I need to make sure you’re all together!”

“Yohohohohou cohohohohocky bahahahastard!” Husk retorted.

Alastor tsked, and the cat felt himself start to panic as the Overlord’s hands went toward his stomach. “Always with the fowl language, that should be reserved for birds!”

If Husk could groan, he would. Of course Alastor had to get one of his stupid ‘jokes’ in while the bartender couldn’t just walk out of the room. Though, the puns did help whenever the Radio Demon wanted Angel Dust to leave him alone. He didn’t know what was worse, the Overlord’s love of ‘dad jokes’, or his insatiable sadistic streak. 

“Wohohohuld yoohohhou stohohohp- FUHUUHUHUHCK!” Husk exclaimed as Alastor scratched and clawed at his stomach. The first of the bartender’s worst spots.

Once he was sure Husk couldn’t escape, Alastor snapped his fingers, causing the shadows to let him go as the bartender slid to the floor, still trying to run away from the Radio Demon’s fingers. The deer poked and prodded, even circling a finger slowly around where the cat’s belly button would be.

“Don’t cats enjoy having their stomachs petted?” Alastor teased, a small laugh track coming from him.

“THAHAHAT’S dohohohohohgs yohohoHOHOHO PRIHIHIHICK!”

“Ah, forgive me.” Alastor said, not at all sounding apologetic “I was never a ‘dog’ person. Cats are much more amusing!”

“Thhihihihihis IHIHIHISN’T AMUHuhuhuhuhumsing!”

“You’re entitled to your opinion, but you wouldn’t be laughing if it wasn’t!”

Husk was going to kill him. Okay, no, he wasn’t that stupid or reckless, but he was going to make sure the Radio Demon paid for this. However, Husk’s plans of revenge were cut off by the feeling of two of Alastor’s tendrils stroking his wings, causing the bartender to scream with laughter.

“You know, I think Niffty needs to brush your wings soon, when was the last time she did that?” Alastor asked, despite knowing Husk wouldn’t be able to answer.

Despite both Angel and Husk being tickled out of their minds, they both hated to admit they were having fun. Maybe Charlie’s idea wasn’t so dumb.

#hazbin hotel tickle #tickle fic #tickle #lee!angeldust #lee!husk #ler!vaggie #ler!charlie #ler!alastor #a LOT of ya'll wanted part 2 so here you go #will there be a part 3? probably. Angel and Husk need their revenge #sorry it cuts off weirdly I wanted to finish this before I disappear for a week to spend time with my bf

[theminecraftbee]

solving counting sheep prompt thing: three and joe trying to work on some project together

Three squints critically at a post in the ground.

“Your measurement is off,” it says.

“Why, thank you. Your eyesight is far greater than mine, so I very much appreciate you correcting the marks I’m using to decide how big and close the moon is getting!” Joe smiles at Three. Back when Three had first met her, Joe had smiled big quite often. These days, even that goofy, meant-to-be-a-gesture smile is drawn and exhausted. Joe is not designed to run on minimal sleep the way Three is; Joe is hardly the only Hermit staying up until the middle of the night these days.

Blocks rise around them.

Three has better vision than Joe. Blocks rise everywhere.

“I still think we should try Mumbo’s missile again. Or we should try a bigger missile.”

“I am afraid that didn’t work the first time!” Joe says, finishing their sign adjustments.

“That’s stupid,” Three says.

“That’s just how it is. Besides, big problems like that are for big problem havers! We’re out here, collecting data for the people who might actually be able to do something about it.” Joe pauses, shrugs. “I mean, if they exist. They probably don’t.”

“I could torture a Watcher into fixing it,” Three says glibly.

“No, you said that wouldn’t work,” Joe says. “Also, that’s morally questionable.”

Three does not fidget. It trains its eyes on the threat it can do nothing about. It lets out a trill that, for most mortals, is terrifying.

Nothing happens.

“I can make everyone leave,” Three says, quieter this time. “With better plans than—”

“The season’s hardly over. Iskall hasn’t given me my badge yet. I’m not leaving until I get that,” Joe says.

“That is a stupid plan. Don’t be stupid,” Three says.

“Are you leaving?”

“Not until Mumbo does. Especially not until—Pearl should know better. She did not leave last time. She was—was sad. She should know that—I won’t leave until she does,” Three says, halting as it trips over emotions it doesn’t understand.

“Then let’s not have this argument again.”

“Will comply,” Three grumbles.

“Besides, this new moon data is fascinating. Why, at this rate—oh no! I might not even finish my castle! I think I’m going to go work on the walls again, just in case,” Joe says.

“Affirmative,” Three says.

“See you around! If you happen to See any solutions with those big eyes of yours”—and here Joe winks, incredibly unsubtly—“please, by all means, let us all know!”

He leaves.

Three looks at a line of signs across the ground, scattered markers of how small the problem was a month ago. It’s grown so big so fast, and Three has still yet to figure out how to neutralize it.

No one has any orders to stay. No one has any reason to. Three doesn’t understand why they’re still staying.

Three won’t leave alone.

Three, Three doesn’t want—

It would be sad if Zedaph’s sheep experiment had to end early. It should not be buried under moon rocks and rubble. It should be remembered.

That’s all.

#answered #a bee fic #solving counting sheep talk #this is also in answering ‘three reacts to moon’s big’ for the record #anyway. sorry I still have big moon emotions #so HERE THEY ARE #anyway three hates this get it off this train #(also almost despite everything three gets along with joe hills almost) #(it thinks joe is a baffling person but in a way that makes sense enough to it to figure out) #also yeah at this point the ‘ask game’ is ‘send me scs prompts and I slowly get through them to wind down in the evening #combining scs and s8. yeah THERE are my insanities all in one place.

[late-to-the-party-81]

His little dolly

AN: Here we go, party-people. Here is the third part of my DBF Steve, officially making it a Series by the rules of Jen. This is actually based on the original idea by the lovely @krissy25 which started the whole thing off. It also actually adds some plot, which I was not expecting. It is, however, still absolute filth

Beta’d by @endlesstwanted, wrangler of commas

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@steverogersbingo  - C3 - Free Space

Master list | SRB Master list | Series Master list

Summary: You have to try and control yourself when your parents and you spend the day helping Steve building his new deck. The evening, however, is a different matter.

Relationship: DBF Steve x Inexperienced Reader

Word count: 4.3k

CW: AU: No Powers, Age difference (Steve 40s, Reader early 20’s), Soft Dark Steve, Power Imbalance, Secret relationship, Oral Sex (F receiving), Fingering, Squirting, Unprotected PIV Sex (reader on BC), Pussy slapping, Breath-play, Under-negotiated kink, Mild Angst, Implied Somnophilia, Implied Cum eating, Steve Rogers Dirty Talk, Bimbo-fication.

This was going to be torture. You were going to be spending the whole day with Steve, which on the surface, sounded like a dream - you only usually spent snatched moments together. However, your parents were also going to be there this time. 

Your Dad had gleefully announced three days ago that you’d all be spending Saturday at Steve’s house, having a cook-out while he and Steve worked on renovating Steve’s deck. So here you were, in the backseat of your Dad’s car as he drove the couple of miles across town to get there. You’d be so near but so far, and you had no idea how you were going to keep it together, especially since you hadn’t seen him in a week and he was still in possession of your toy-box.

The car lurched as your Dad pulled up outside Steve’s house, braking a little too hard, and you could almost hear his eyes roll as your Mom clicked her tongue at him. As they both got out of the car you put your best game face on and joined them. 

It was a warm day, and determined not to be labelled as a ‘useless woman’ you’d eschewed your normal hot weather wardrobe of a sundress. Instead you’d put on sturdy sneakers, some denim shorts and a baggy sleeveless tee, intending to help out with Steve’s renovations. You hoped that if you were busy, you’d be able to distract yourself from being so close to what you wanted.

That plan went straight out the window almost immediately. The three of you walked up the path, but instead of heading to the front door your Dad veered off toward the gate that went directly into the back yard. He pushed it open, holding it for you and your Mom, and you followed her through it. 

You came to a grinding halt as all thoughts were driven from your head.

Steve had already started working, and he must have been at it for a while because he’d already discarded his shirt and had a sheen of sweat over his body.

Your mouth went dry and you barely noticed the way you pressed your thighs together, your clit already throbbing with arousal. He looked like a god come to life.

Yes, you’d seen him naked more than once, but you’d never seen him like this in the bright light of day, just looking so masculine. Was there a name for this kink? The urge to just lick the sweat from his pecs was almost overwhelming.

“Sweetie? Are you okay?” Your Mom’s voice pulled you back into reality.

“Umm, yeah. I - uuh - just got something in my eye.” You blinked rapidly and rubbed at your right eye to bring credence to your story, but it seemed that your Mom wasn’t fooled. She leaned in close and whispered conspiratorially. 

“He is rather distracting, I’ll grant you.”

“Mom!” You felt your cheeks flame with embarrassment, and looked around to see if either your Dad, or god forbid Steve, had heard. “You can’t say things like that,” you hissed out.

Your Mom just gave you a wink. “Married, not dead, sweetie. Just don’t look at boys your own age like that - they might take it the wrong way and try to take advantage.”

You bit your tongue, desperately hoping she wouldn’t work out your secret just by looking at your face. Luckily you were saved by an unlikely ally when your Dad shouted out for your Mom’s attention as he tried to locate his tool belt. “I’m gonna go and get the cooler from the car,” you shouted, desperate for a few moments alone to compose yourself.

Spending all day with Steve was one thing, but spending it with him when he was topless, his skin kissed by the sun, and with him letting out little grunts of effort that reminded you too much of other noises? Well, you’d be lucky not to just orgasm on the spot and then the game would be up.

You jogged back down Steve’s front path to where your Dad’s car was parked at the curb. You popped the trunk, and were just leaning into it to lift out the cooler full of beer and meat for the cookout when a shadow fell over you.

You whirled around, coming straight into eye contact with the physique you’d just been admiring.

“Hey, Babydoll. You look a little warm. Something got you all flustered?” The way he teased you normally got you going, but given the current situation it just made you cross. You stepped away, needing space to breathe, and looked over at his smirking face. At least he’d thrown his shirt back over his shoulders, but it wasn’t buttoned and his chest was just there. 

“You’ve done this on purpose,” you ground out, trying not to raise your voice and catch your parents’ attention.

“I don’t know what you mean, sweetheart,” Steve drawled mockingly, as he reached into the trunk and effortlessly picked up the cooler. “I just got a bit overheated while working and needed to strip off. Surely, you can understand that. And anyway, I’m just your Dad’s friend - not your type in any case.”

“Fuck you!” you whispered, full of both anger and arousal. 

Steve stepped back up onto the sidewalk heading back towards his house, but he paused as he passed you, ducking his head to whisper in your ear. “Later, Babydoll. Later. And don’t go touching yourself when you go to the bathroom. I’ll know if you do…”

He walked away, and you gave yourself a few seconds to take in some deep breaths before following him back into his yard. He was already talking to your Mom when you got there, back to being the genial friend of the family.

“Thank you for bringing over the food and agreeing to come help out. I expected it to just be me and Twinkle-toes over there.” He jerked his head in your Dad’s direction, who pouted at the nickname, and your Mom threw back her head and laughed.

“Oh, it’s no problem at all, Steve. You’re like family. You know we think of you like a brother.”

Steve glanced over at you, and the look you saw in his eyes was in no way ‘uncle-like’. You shivered and tried not to think of all the things the two of you had done - things that would probably make your Mom faint and your Dad go apoplectic. 

There was only one way you were going to get through this day, so purposefully ignoring Steve you strode over to where your Dad was looking at the decking planks, a measuring tape in hand and a carpenter’s pencil between his teeth.

“How can I help?” you asked, and got stuck in.

Your plan worked to a certain extent. At least while you were helping your Dad measure and cut, or helping your Mom prepare the food for the grill. However, everytime you thought you had your equilibrium back on an even keel, Steve seemed to somehow know and would make a point of brushing past you or would stand in your eye line. He’d then tip his head back and drink from his beer, uncaring if any errant drops spilled from his mouth and trickled down his throat and chest. A few times you were tempted to disobey him - go to his bathroom and relieve the tension building in your core. You even wondered if you could sneak off to his bedroom and use his pillow to get yourself off, but you weren’t that brave.

The hours passed by fast despite each minute feeling like an eternity, and it was with a sense of pride that you realised that your assistance had actually been useful - Steve’s deck was almost complete. The railings on one side still needed to be put into place and the protective wood stain needed to be added, but all in all it was a success. 

Now you were all relaxing on loungers, having filled up on burgers, wieners and your Mom’s potato salad, sipping on the remaining beers. 

Your parents and Steve had been talking about local goings-on while you’d been daydreaming when Steve directed a question to you.

“So, d’you think you’ll have the energy to meet up with your girlfriends after all your efforts today?”

For a moment you were confused. You had no plans after this, let alone with any girlfriends, but then a lightbulb came on in your head. “Oh, uh, yeah. I’ve just gotta check if they still wanna go out. They weren’t sure, which is why I hadn’t mentioned it,” you turned to your parents, hoping they found it plausible. Your Dad just waved his hand.

“You’re a grown up now, sweetie. You don’t need to account for your movements to us. We know you’re sensible. And it won’t be too long now before you spread your wings and leave the nest completely - get that job you’ve been dreaming of.”

“Oh,” said Steve with interest. “What job is that?”

“Hasn’t she told you?” Your Mom sat forward in her chair, full of excitement. “She’s got an interview for an internship at Walker Industries. Our baby’s on the up and up.”

“Mom,” you groaned. “It’s not that glamorous. It’s really just glorified data entry.”

“But it’s a big company,” your Mom argued back. “International. And you’re smart and ambitious. You’ll be working your way up in no time.”

Neither her or your Dad seemed to notice how quiet Steve had gone - how his now dark gaze was settled squarely on you -, but you did and you couldn’t work out what it meant. Then, with a smack of his hands on his thighs, Steve stood up.

“Well, it’s been a long day and I really do appreciate the help and the company, but if Little Miss Social Life here has something planned, I’d best let you go.”

Your Dad looked at his watch and gasped, making some comment about time flying, and then you were all caught up in a flurry of activity and goodbyes. Your Dad checked he had all his tools and your Mom made sure she had all her food containers, despite Steve’s insistence he should keep them to wash up and return at another point. Ten minutes later, you were all back in the car heading home.

Twenty minutes after that you were under the shower, washing the sweat and dirt of the day off yourself and trying to ignore how every nerve ending in your body was on fire from the anticipation of what was to come. In another forty minutes, you’d tried on and discarded various different outfits, trying to find just the right one. It was proving difficult because your parents thought you were going out with the girls, so your outfit had to reflect that, but at the same time Steve preferred a certain aesthetic on you - loving you in little sundresses and flirty skirts. However, having emptied most of your meagre wardrobe over your bed and your floor, you finally settled on something that you hoped would work - a hot pink dress with spaghetti straps and skirt that swirled when you moved. You slicked on some light make-up, again trying to strike the balance right, grabbed your purse and jogged down the stairs.

You shouted a hurried ‘good-bye’ to your parents, who were cuddled up on the couch sleepily watching one of their favourite police procedural dramas, and finally made your way out of the door. While walking down the darkening sidewalk, your jacket slung over your arm, you checked your phone. You’d sent Steve an estimate of when you’d be ready and hoped he’d be waiting for you at the end of the block. There was no response to the text you’d sent to the number saved under ‘Janice’, and you started to feel nervous until you turned the corner and saw the vehicle you’d been on the lookout for.

Feeling a bit giddy, you skipped over, opening the passenger door and sliding in beside Steve. You threw your arms around his neck and pressed your lips to his. He looked back at you, indulgently, and licked his lips.

“You look like a doll come to life, sweetheart.”

You preened under his praise. “I’m glad you like it,” you replied, smoothing the hot pink fabric over your legs.

“If I was less of a gentleman, I’d have my way with you here and now,” he growled, dramatically.

“And if you were more of a gentleman, I wouldn’t even be here,” you teased back.

“Brat,” he replied with a chuckle and a warning pinch to your thigh. “Behave.”

“Yes, Steve.” You pouted and batted your eyelids, and he chuckled again before putting his car in drive and peeling away from the curb. As he drove, you gave him sideways glances, studying his profile as you hummed to the music on the stereo and tapping your hands on your lap. The streetlights helped to highlight the streaks of grey at his temples, and you longed to run your fingers through it. You just had to be patient, though - it wouldn’t be long until Steve had you spread out on his bed and you’d have the chance to do just that.

Heat started to pool within you, the anticipation making you fidgety, and you let out a sigh of relief when Steve steered the car up his drive and into his garage. As soon as he killed the engine, he was making his way around your side of the car to open the door. He helped you out and then immediately took your face in his large hands, laying a demanding kiss on you. You squeaked briefly in surprise before leaning into it, your hands fisting his shirt for balance. You’d worn higher heels than normal and weren’t used to the change in your centre of gravity. 

Steve smiled against your lips, sliding his hands down your body until he grasped your ass and lifted you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your skirt riding up, and dug your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. He walked across the garage but didn’t take you through the door into the main house, instead heading out into his backyard. He lowered you slowly, your bodies sliding against each other until your feet hit the new planks.

“Why are we out here, Steve? We spent all day on this damn thing.”

He smiled at you in the moonlight. “Exactly, Babydoll. You helped me build it, so now you have to help me christian it.”

You cocked your head at him, brows furrowed, and then realisation hit. “Oh!”

Steve pulled you back into his embrace. “Oh, indeed,” he said, and then he lowered his mouth to yours again, demanding entrance and acting as though he was going to devour you. You gave back as good as you got, feeling desperate for his touch. “Today was so hard,” he muttered against your lips. “Every time you bent over in those shorts, fuck. There were moments where I almost didn’t care that your parents were here. I wanted to rip them from you and take you right here.”

“‘Wasn’t any easier for me,” you murmured back. “My Mom saw me staring at you - I think she thinks I’ve got a crush on you. Warned me not to look at boys my age the way I look at you.”

“As if you’d dare,” came the jesting reply.

Steve’s hand skimmed down your side until it reached the hem of your dress. It made its way under, his palm sliding over your thigh working its way up to your hip where it stopped, and he pulled back from your kiss.

“Sweetheart, have you come out without any panties on?”

You peered up at him, coyly from under your lashes. “Maybe…” It was your turn to smirk.

“Fuck,” he barked and then dropped straight to his knees, his hands throwing up your skirt so he could grasp your naked ass and pull you onto his face. His tongue found its way, unerring, between your folds and straight to your clit, giving you no time to prepare yourself.

“Steve!” you screeched before biting down on your lip, and grabbing hold of his head as you tottered on your heels. “Oh god!”

He was like a man possessed, slurping lewdly at your sex and alternating between sucking on your clit and thrusting his tongue in and out of your spasming cunt. It was a vicious onslaught of pleasure that left you dizzy and out of breath. When he pressed two of his fingers inside of you without warning, you had to let go of him with one hand so you could bite down on the base of your thumb to stop from screaming in ecstasy. “Give it to me, Babydoll. I need you to make a mess.”

He stroked that special spot inside of you without pause, and sucked on your clit as your legs shook. There was a heavy feeling inside your core, like the building of an orgasm but different, as he kept up his pleasurable torture.

“Steve!” You gasped. “I…I’m gonna…what’s happening?”

He didn’t answer, just kept up what he was doing, driving you closer to the brink and also towards something unknown. When you came, it was with a massive release of pressure. Your body jerked in his hold, your eyes rolled up and you felt a wet flood between your legs. You heard Steve moan into your cunt, and then you heard the patter of liquid onto the wood between your feet. You felt like you were flying and sinking at the same time.

“What the fuck?” You slurred as Steve slowly rose back to his feet.

“You squirted, sweetheart. So fucking sexy.”

“I what?” You squeaked, unbelieving. “But isn’t that…” A feeling of shame started to wash over you, but Steve interrupted it, pressing one of his fingers to your lips.

“Yes, but also no. Don’t think too much about it, honey. It’s nothing to be ashamed of - it’s natural. Just means you were really turned on, and let me tell you, it’s quite the ego boost to do that to you. Made me even harder.”

His eyes narrowed and he took hold of your hand, so much smaller than his and placed it over the bulge in his jeans.

“It’s gonna make it a lot easier for me to slip inside that tight pussy of yours too. She’s so wet, ‘m gonna just slide right in. And fuck, it’s gonna make some beautiful sounds. Would you like that, Babydoll? Want me to stuff this fat cock into your hungry cunt? See if I can make you squirt again?”

His words hypnotised you and you groped at his cock, staring up at him with your mouth wide open and your eyes glazed with lust. Fuck, you could feel your cum running down your bare thighs. “Please,” you begged, your tone husky and full of need.

As if you were a rag doll, Steve steered you backwards until your back hit one of the completed portions of railing. He spun you to face it and then plastered himself against your back. The heat of him burned through your dress, and his breath tickled your ear. “I’m gonna take you right here and you’re gonna be good for me and take it. You’re gonna be quiet too - we don’t want Mrs Kennedy next door coming out to find out what’s going on.”

You heard the metallic snick of his fly being lowered and your eyes fluttered closed. Steve’s foot tapped yours and you widened your stance, taking hold of the railing for stability. Slowly, he pulled your skirt up above your hips and his cock nudged against your naked ass. Steve placed his left hand, fingers splayed over your stomach, holding you right where he wanted you as he guided his cock to the entrance of your cunt and then pressed in with one hard thrust.

You choked back your cry, your fingers tightening their grip on the wood in front of you.

“Good girl,” Steve praised, and he started to fuck into you with long, firm strokes. “Such a perfect little dolly, just for me.”

His right hand came up to the straps of your dress and bra, lowering them down your arms so he could free your breasts. The cool evening air blew across you, making your nipples peak, and you moaned low in your throat as Steve rolled each of them in turn, plucking and pulling at them in a way that was both painful and oh-so-good.

He fucked you languidly, building you up slowly. His left hand moved down and he drew lazy circles over your clit - enough to have you whimpering with need, but not enough to bring you to orgasm.

“I’m gonna fuck you just like this - slow and deep - until you feel like you’re gonna burst. I want you to come on me and fucking soak my cock like you did my hand. I want your cum to splatter all over this fucking deck. I want you to feel so much pleasure that you never want to look at another man.”

Your mind was hazy with lust, your hips moving to meet his thrusts. “Don’t want anyone but you, Steve. Make me feel so good.”

A small change in the angle of Steve’s thrusts had his cock rubbing over your g-spot the same way his fingers had earlier. The feeling of your orgasm building still felt strange, but at least you knew what to expect. You just didn’t know how you were going to stay silent, though.

He cruelly twisted one of your nipples just as he thrust forward and reedy warble left your throat. Steve responded by slapping your clit, and even as the sharp pain registered you heard the wet squelch as he did so, your squirt already starting to seep out of you as he continued his assault on your cunt.

“I said to stay quiet,” he hissed.

The pressure inside you was rising once more, and you knew you were close. “I don’t think I can,” you whined, and your body convulsed as he fucked into you. “I’m so close. Please, Steve. I… I…”

“Aawww, does my Babydoll need help?”

You bit your lip and nodded, unable to comprehend how he was going to do it. 

Steve took his left hand from your clit and trailed the back of his knuckles up your side, then settled it around the base of your throat. “Do you trust me, sweetheart?” His voice rumbled in your ear.

“Yes,” was your whispered response. You trusted him with your life.

“Then take over touching that pretty clit for me and just relax.”

You let go of the railing with your right hand and did as he asked, feeling how soaked you were as you started to play with your clit. As you started to crest higher, unable to hold back little pleasures squeaks, Steve resettled his left hand on your throat and began to lightly squeeze. Your noises stopped as your airway was constricted. Everything within you was concentrated on the feeling building in your cunt, and as black spots began to form in front of your eyes, your body began to tremble.

When Steve let go of your neck, your orgasm exploded out of you. His hand immediately clapped over your mouth, leaving you to breathe out your scream through your nose as you jerked on his cock like a puppet on a string. The gush of liquid that erupted from your cunt flooded over your hand and onto the deck like a waterfall.

“Fucking god,” Steve exclaimed, the movement of his hips finally speeding up as he chased his own release inside your spasming channel, adding his own cum to the sticky mess leaking from you. 

You collapsed against him, unsure how you were even still upright after that. Another whimper left you as Steve pulled himself from your body, but he immediately scooped you up in his arms and carried you inside, walked up the stairs, and placed your exhausted body on his bed. When he didn’t immediately lie down next to you, you blinked your eyes open. “Steve?”

“I’ll be right there, sweetheart,” he assured, and you watched as he pushed down his jeans and briefs. Your eyes widened when you realised they were sodden.

“Oh my god! Did I do that?”

Steve grinned as he climbed naked onto the bed and crawled over you. “You did and don’t you dare apologise. Whenever I wear them from now on I’ll think of you and how fucking sexy you are. Now you rest for a bit. I have more plans for you, and I need to make sure you get home at a plausible time.”

You pouted as you took in his words. This was the thing you really hated about your relationship - if you could call it that -, you couldn’t just curl up next to him and stay the night the way you wanted to. Would you ever be able to be open about your relationship, or was it doomed from the start?

However, your body was totally wrung out from Steve’s ministrations, and it wasn’t long until you fell into a doze, your body pressed up against his.

Steve looked down at you as you took your rest. You looked so innocent - so young - as you slept. He shouldn’t want you this much, but he did, even if he’d go to hell for it. He’d burn the world for you. 

When your mother had announced you were hoping to work for Walker Inc, it had taken all of his self control not to stand up and forbid it. Who was he to do so? Besides, it wasn’t your fault that Walker was a grade A ass-hole. 

Steve had no doubt that you’d ace the interview, so he’d just have to hope that the CEO didn’t notice you. If he did, the sleazeball would have no qualms about trying to take advantage of you. A little voice inside his head pointed out that he’d already done just that. He batted it aside. The difference was that he cared for you. Walker cared about nothing but himself.

You let out a sleepy little noise as you snuggled into his side and he turned back to you. He’d give you another half an hour, and then he was planning to feast on your messy pussy. That should wake you up with a smile. Then he’d watch you bounce on his cock, like the little dolly you were.

Tag list: @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @wolfsmom1, @doasyoudesireandlive, @goldylions, @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky, @kmc1989

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #dbf!Steve #dad's best friend #steve rogers au #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction

[shiningqueen]

silk rope, soy candles / nsfw mihawk x afab!reader

Honestly, this has lived rent free in my brain for over a week. So please enjoy this self indulgent piece. Rating: NSFW / minors do not interact Pairing: Mihawk x afab!reader Contents: consensual light bondage, light sensory deprivation, waxplay, oral (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), biting, PiV intercourse, use of gendered pronouns (fem) and relevant parts. Notes: enthusiastic consent is important. also this is just as fay coded as my other works but none of you should be surprised.

The slide of soft braided rope bites into your wrists as you test the knots, muscles taut in the wake of another whole body shiver of cresting pleasure. You bite down on a throaty whine at the wet lave of a tongue circling your swollen bud. 

Your struggle does not go unnoticed, because the push-pull of euphoria is halted and lanced through by teeth stinging against your thigh. 

“What did I say?” The reprimand of your golden eyed lover is husked against your thigh, his stare is both warning and tease.

Your jaw tenses, “No freeing myself without permission,” but still your shoulders twist slightly against the bindings keeping your hands pinned behind your back. “You’re being cruel,” you accuse, muscles twitching from being denied release twice now.

Mihawk scoffs and slowly rises from where he knelt between your legs, palms like brands as they rest on your thighs and he hovers over you. “Cruel?” He echoes softly, expression predatory as he pushes you firmly to lay back on the bed.

You squirm from the uncomfortable press of your tethered hands into your lumbar, but Mihawk only applies more pressure to dig that discomfort deeper while coming to kneel between your spread thighs. There’s nothing to cover either of you, so there is no mistaking he is just as aroused as you are.

“I should loose these bonds if you’re just going to torture me,” you bite at him impatiently, and he knows you are fully capable of doing so easily. There was no restraint that could hold you - that you let him bind you was an act of trust.

He smirks at your indignation, “You won't,” tone silky as his hand skims up slowly from your navel, over your chest and clavicle before stopping briefly at your throat. Not to grasp you but merely lay his palm there, “but you do not grasp how cruel I can truly be, querida.” Mihawk hisses and in too quick of a motion, the warmth of his touch on your neck is gone - fingers knotting in your hair tightly and pulling to force your spine to curve off the bed.

He holds you taut, head tilted with eyes on the ceiling, so you can only feel how he grasps your hip in his other hand and drags the hot length of his cock through your wet, aching folds. 

The friction forces a moan out of you, frustrated yet simultaneously relieved from the throb pulsing in your core - but gods, the way Mihawk slowly ruts against you is blissful. 

“I can do this,” he emphasizes with a grunt, coating his length in your abundant slick and huffing from the pleasurable jolts the motion brings, “all night. Hold you down and only pursue my own relief.” The threat makes you squirm in his grasp but he holds fast, growling as he tugs on your hair painfully. 

“Behave and we both get what we want,” there’s a breathless quality to his voice despite himself, relishing in the way your hips grind up against his thrusts wantonly. The flex of your muscles beneath sweat beaded skin and the shaky keening sounds you make, even though you try to remain defiant under his control, delight him down to his marrow. 

You still think him cruel. How he leisurely strokes his length through your sex but refuses to bury himself inside you, where you desperately want him most, inner walls clenching around nothing. That gradual build up of pleasure but never close enough to the edge was exquisite torment.

“Please,” you whimper, trembling and Mihawk takes some pity on you by releasing the harsh grip on your hair, allowing you to slump down against the bed. You meet his hungry gaze with an equally heated look, “I’ll play nice for now,” you tease softly.

A chuckle rumbles in his chest as he drapes himself over you, caging you between his arms and nuzzling along your shoulder, lips grazing over the intricate lines of tattoos inked there. “Don’t be so impatient, starling,” he chides lowly and stifles any retort by slotting his mouth over yours. The kiss is deep and heady, tongue pushing past your lips to taste you and muffle your canting moans.

Mihawk’s languid thrusts continue whilst he kisses you, stoking the smoldering arousal in your belly, and it’s difficult to focus on anything else beyond the passionate claim of his mouth and the pulse in your core. Your hands clench beneath you, the longing to touch him was still present.

You’re too distracted to notice him reaching for something, until a strip of cloth is draped gently over your eyes and secured in place with a deft knot. Robbed of your sight, you fall still and exhale slowly to soothe the exciting twist of anxiety and anticipation running wild in your veins. Then Mihawk’s weight is lifted off you entirely and you protest the loss of him, stubbornly keeping your legs locked around his hips.

“You’re being so good for me, little bird,” Mihawk purrs approvingly while skimming his palms over your thighs, lust simmering under his skin as he admires you. This whole ordeal was an exercise in restraint, as every noise and encouraging movement from you wore away at his self control. He ached fiercely to have you but there was such a delicious appeal in drawing it out, luxuriating in the moment.

You thrum with titillation that becomes a euphoric spasm when fingers stroke along your inner thigh and then nimbly part your folds, gasping at the expert touch of digits at your clit. Circling, stroking, then dipping lower to sink into you. You clench tight around the intrusion and relish hearing Mihawk hiss under his breath, pushing his fingers deeper as he leans over you again.

Then you feel heat, a thick droplet of wax landing just above your navel. Even if you had known it would come eventually, it was still a surprise and the flush of new sensation has you tensing. 

In that very brief lapse of contact between you and him, Mihawk had lit a candle and held it steady in his right hand as the flame danced and softened the wax. He kept it aloft while his left worked between your legs, mindful not to let any accidental droplets fall on your flesh after the first. 

“Is it good, amor? Not too hot?” He asks sincerely, stilling the thrust of his fingers to give you a moment to breathe and process.

“I like it,” you assure him quietly, “keep going.” All your senses had grown more acute being sightless, every touch and sound amplified to provocative degrees. The wax had been a vexing combination of not-quite pain and ticklish pleasure.

With your encouragement, Mihawk resumes the gradual movement of his left hand, middle and ring fingers stroking the slick inner muscles of your center, working you up again from that temporary lull. 

It does not take long for you to be gasping and moaning from his ministrations, subtle tremors in your shoulders as you strain against the ropes again. Mihawk doesn't admonish you even if he notices, focusing instead on slowly dripping wax over your soft stomach. He marvels at the way you twitch as the wax lands, sometimes paired with a breathy giggle, how it oozes a few centimeters before cooling entirely; relishes the hitch in your voice each time. It’s viscerally sensual and it makes his arousal all the more poignant.

“Look at you, my pretty songbird,” he croons, voice thick with want as he grinds the heel of his palm against your clit, near grinning as you cry out from a particularly intense jolt of pleasure.

Your teeth lock against another moan as the hot wax beads along your torso and the heady promise of your climax builds, jerking your hips erratically with the pace of Mihawk’s digits. You whine and stutter around his name, uttering broken pleas that he doesnt stop. 

That he does not for a third time's a blessing; you don’t notice that he stops dripping wax when the rushing tide of orgasm breaks over you. A burst of heat and convulsing muscles, arching off the bed with a strangled shout that ebbs into whimpering for how the high slowly ebbs.

Mihawk is almost beside himself with ardent lust, unraveling you in this way that is so vulnerable and tactile is intoxicating. He withdraws from you, fingers coated in your slick and hums approvingly as he licks them clean. The candle, long snuffed out, is set aside and for a moment he traces the patterns of dried wax on your skin as you lay prone.

“Now you may unbind yourself, florecita.” 

Such sweet relief granted to you! Even in your haze, you nimbly loosen your wrists from the soft rope and pull your arms out from beneath you, stretching out languorously over the blankets. The blindfold is removed too just in time to catch Mihawk as he crawls over you, eagerly you reach to embrace him with a fey-like smile tugging at your mouth. You shift your legs to accommodate him settling between them and purr at the hot press of his cock against your inner thigh.

“Next time, I will drip wax on you, while you’re tied up.” You remark playfully, tracing your fingers along the sharp lines of his facial hair.

He rumbles with mirth, the vibration felt deep in your own chest as he presses flush to you, “As you wish, mi vida,” lips tickling at your throat as he wastes no time in rocking his hips forward to enter you. Breath luffed hot and damp over you as he sheathes himself to the hilt quickly, grinding deep and firm to enjoy the wet clench of you around him.

You gasp at being filled so abruptly and shiver, feeling him at every nerve, hooking one of your legs around him for leverage as you match his tempo. Now there is no reason to be slow or careful, you tangle hands into his black hair and pull him into an impatient, ravenous kiss. The groan that vibrates in Mihawk’s throat is nothing short of carnal.

The rhythm builds and the kiss gets messy, open mouths and teeth nipping between grunts and stifled moans. There’s no breath or thought for words, Mihawk chasing his end after having denied himself for so long in the pursuit of yours. He sinks his teeth into the meat of your shoulder with a snarl, the slap of skin on skin briefly drowned beneath your voice rising several octaves in rapturous abandon.

You dig and drag your nails over him, panting hoarsely as air is punched out of your lungs with every thrust, shoulder aching from the bruise forming under his mouth. The pain is only a complement to the pleasure of having him.

Mihawk huffs as he curls over you, hips stuttering as he reaches his limit, trembling from the force of his own climax as he sinks into you with finality. Every thick pulse is timed with a deep roll of his pelvis until the whiteout of orgasm fades and he’s prying his teeth from your shoulder. The indents left behind are kissed tenderly in fatigued apology.

You both sigh and settle, skin to skin and allowing each other’s hearts to ease into steadier patterns. It’s quiet moments of calming touches and featherlight kisses until Mihawk pulls away from your embrace to sit up. 

“Stay,” he says coolly, “I’ll draw us a bath.”

You’re happy to obey, boneless and drowsy on the bed. He collects you shortly thereafter, cradling you in his arms as he carries you to wash and relax in steaming waters. 

You curl against his chest in the bath, dozy like a spoiled cat and softly hum one of his favorite songs as the night wanes on in serenity.

#|lumi's tidbits| #|mine| #one piece scenario #one piece fanfiction #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #mihawk x you #dracule mihawk x you

[miyagihawk]

hi love i really love your writing and i was wondering if you could do an eli "hawk" moskovitz smut where the reader (one year older if you want) gives a blowjob to hawk (you can do sub hawk and some dom reader) of course only if you feel comfortable

hi! lol got to your request super late but i just got motivation to start writing again. thank you, hope you enjoy!

say my name | eli moskowitz x reader

(ugh this gif. arms!?!?)

warnings: explicit content, 18+ only please! some mention of BDSM. so much teasing ah

summary: contrary to popular belief, eli moskowitz is a sub…

No one would ever guess that Eli, Hawk, Moskowitz loves to be dominated. By you. His whole persona to the public contradicts his submission to you in the bedroom. But you love that it was just a secret between the two of you.

Sure, you love his hand wrapped around your throat as he fucks you relentlessly. And you love when he flips you over by your waist so he could pound into you from behind.

But what feels so, so, right, is when he whines your name and begs for your touch. You in complete control.

“What are you doing?” Hawk looked down at you with playful, knowing eyes, but something dark was lingering in the blue.

“Huh?” you blinked at him innocently, continuing to trace your hand along the waistband of his boxers.

You two were watching a movie, winding down after school. While laying on his chest, your view was not only the tv, but also the imprint of his cock peeking out of his boxers. The sight of it stirred something in you.

Your head rose and fell with his now staggered breathing, as you lowered your hand down to the shape of his length. “Babe,” he moaned, in a warning tone. The point of no return.

Looking up at him, his eyes were dark and full of desire. He wanted you.

“I’m barely touching you. Why so hard already,” you teased. You wrapped your hand lightly around him over his boxers, and you felt it harden even more. His lips parted, heavier breaths leaving his mouth.

You started to move your hand slowly up and down, as you watched his tortured face scrunch up in both pleasure and pain. “J-Just quit the teasing,” he whimpered, sending a shiver down your spine.

“If you’re going to give me orders you can touch yourself,” you pulled your hand away suddenly, making him grab it and put it back where it was. You smiled, loving how much power you had.

“No. I want you to touch me,” Hawk tightened his hand around yours to make you grip his cock and stroke it up and down.

“Please?” you scolded, halting all movement of your hands.

“Please,” he whined out. Satisfied, you pulled his boxers down his legs, making his hard length be revealed to you. Positioning yourself between his legs, you ran your hands up and down his abs.

You leaned down, letting your warm breath fan out on his cock. “Is this what you want?”

He nodded, looking down at you in lust.

“Say yes,” you demanded.

“Yes,” Hawk swallowed, squirming from how swollen his dick was. You let yourself admire his state of utter obedience.

“Good boy,” you gave a singular kiss on his tip, causing him to twitch. “Now before we start, what’s our rule?”

He groaned, hoping you had forgotten the rule just this time. He could barely sputter out his words as you delivered more feathery kisses along his cock. “I…I can’t cum… unless you say I can,” he answered distractedly.

“Good boy,” you approved, and following the two words, beads of pre-cum spilled out of his tip.

You let your tongue catch them at the base of his cock, and you licked all the way until you reached the top. Hawk moaned hotly.

You put his pink tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around. Your hand stroked him up, and down at the same time. “So big, baby,” you purred, before taking more of him in your mouth.

He moaned even louder, encouraging you to bob your head slowly, taking every inch of him into your mouth.

You went faster and faster, and more moans escaped him. Your panties were so wet at his sounds. “Say my name,” you ordered.

“Y/N.” It was heaven, hearing him say it like that. So dirty, and perfect.

“Again,” you said, before putting him back into your mouth.

“Y/N,” he moaned louder.

You could tell he was close by the frequent twitching of his cock in your mouth, and how he grabbed your hair. “Not yet, my love,” you cooed, slowing down on your motions.

“I-I can’t,” Hawk stuttered hopelessly, bucking his hips up for contact with your lips. You dragged your mouth excruciatingly slow, up and down his cock teasingly.

“Not yet.”

He groaned in frustration, concentrating on not letting go. “Please.”

“No,” you denied him, moving your tongue on him in a way that you know really tortures him.

“Y/N,” your name came deep from his throat, making you cave.

“Cum for me,” you kissed his cock, bobbing up and down faster than ever. He cried out, pulling on your hair in the way you love. Hawk’s cum filled your mouth, and you watched as he was catching his breath with closed eyes.

You crawled up from his legs to allow him to wrap his arms around you. “You okay?” you giggled, running your hands through his hair.

“You kill me,” he huffed, a glimpse of a satisfied smile on his face.

#cobra kai #eli moskowitz #hawk cobra kai #cobra kai imagine #cobra kai x reader #eli moskowitz imagine #eli moskowitz x reader #hawk imagine #hawk x reader #cobrakai #cobra kai smut

[gpuzzle]

Ramona Flowers Twice Removed

Based off a small discussion with @centrally-unplanned (shoutouts homie)

One of the less obvious things about Scott Pilgrim is the way in which it has an underlying running arc with Ramona that's significantly less explicit than Scott's arc (except in Book 5). Ramona has to confront all of Scott's exes, and how they reflect on her the same way that Scott's exes reflect on him - and that's one of the more clever things that BLOM does in the comics.

The first one is Kim, Scott's High School ex; Kim is in a lot of ways a parallel to Ramona. Scott's pet name for both is very similar (Kimmy, Rammy); both of their last names are largely biological (Pine and Flowers). Ramona's head glows while they're watching the Lucas Lee movie, which in turn mirrors the Scott vs Simon Lee fight and the Knives-Ramona fight smashed together; the Simon Lee fight particularly sticks out as that's when it glows hardest. Scott also obviously lies and about how "he doesn't even remember his high school girlfriend" - and corrects himself to "girlfriends" to make himself look cooler; Ramona's lie comes later, when she's saying she didn't dump him for any cocky pretty boys (Todd). That entire arc gets resolved on the personal level by Scott introducing Ramona to Kim. The resolution between the two is just "hey, he can still hold a friendly relationship with one of his exes", which Ramona is utterly unable to do up until that point.

The next one is Envy, whose parallel to Ramona happens at a number of levels, from the superficial (both share the middle name initial V, but Natalie gets a cool menacing nickname, and Ramona gets to be a motorhome - obviously a sign of Ramona being way less "cool" than Envy) to the obvious (both of them are mercurial people, Envy out of ambition and Ramona as a self-defense mechanism). Ramona has to wrestle the girl that is mentally torturing Scott and who has moved into fully incompatible territory with him; but she also has to be honest to Scott and admit she just dumped Lucas for Todd with zero hesitation. The thing that brings their fight to a halt is the two pseudo-bonding over a terrible ex; and this Hyper-Scott character in Todd - but also in Scott being willing to intervene in Ramona's side during the Ramona vs Natalie fight and make it clear that no, he's not using her as a rebound to get with Natalie.

After that, it's Lisa, and this one is testing Ramona's faith in Scott not to cheat on some random girl he was connections to, and with whom he might have cheated before. Ramona's entire arc is this perpetual fear of Scott cheating on her, and in this arc she does - she makes out with Roxanne off-screen! Ramona is terrified of some influence from the past, however no-strings-attached it is, taking Scott from her, and she's not realizing that - and it's projection from who she is, in a sense.

On volume 5, we finally arrive at Knives and the confrontation that Scott did do the cut-and-run thing, but it was dumping someone else for Ramona, and Ramona now has to deal with the fact that Scott cheated; so it triggers her temptation to get moving again; that "real life is waiting", to quote one of the Twins. That Scott isn't perfect when it comes to that, and that he's going to fuck up - but he's also not better than her, because her two exes here are guys she two-timed. But she can't reconcile that at the present time, so it triggers her defense mechanism - escape.

Volume 6 has Ramona confronting herself entirely off-screen - the last of Scott's exes. And that she too hasn't been perfect; she admits as much, and comes back for herself - and Scott, though she can't fully admit it until she gets The Power of Love. She has to want to change versus the one who sees things going poorly and bails as soon as possible.

I think especially because we don't get to see Ramona through Volume 6 until she comes back, that's not made sufficiently explicit as a running arc. Which is understandable; it's hard to do the Vol. 6 narrative well while also showing what Ramona was up to and making that arc more explicit.

#scott pilgrim vs the world #scott pilgrim #ramona flowers

[sweetpinkchampagne]

sweet torture

18+ readers only please lovelies!! (this is for a reason please listen<3)

little synopsis: a man hits on the reader at a bar innocently, and this leads to an interrogation from stephen who is incredibly possessive...

pronouns: female pronouns are used

relationship: fem reader x stephen strange

note: not super proud of this but like i will be uploading this because being overly self-critical is not hot xx i hope you enjoy this i love u!!

warnings: stephen being possessive, controlling lowkey insecure, accusations of cheating, smut, dacryphilia, bdsm, temp play (ice), sensory deprivation, dd/lg kind offf ??

“who is he?”

“i told you! i don't know what his name is.” you gritted through your teeth, angered about how unnecessarily prolonged this conversation had become. 

stephen was naturally a very tall man, you had always found this characteristic of his incredibly attractive, until now. his figure towered over you, inches away. his usual soft blue eyes darkened as he bent down to your height, you could feel his hot breath against your neck and the occasional graze of his goatee against your skin, it burned and you loved it. 

“i'm gonna ask one more time, what's his name baby?..” he whispered in your ear.

jesus christ you hated how much control he had over you when he was like this. you didn't know ‘his name’, he was just a guy at a bar who was drunk and hitting on you. of course you turned him down, but stephen’s always been overprotective, dare you say downright possessive. you hated the way him looking down at you and whispering made you press your thighs together, fighting being angry at him. but god, his possessiveness was hot as shit.

“what are you gonna do? here you are trying to sound so threatening. what? you gonna pull some KGB shit on him?? because i'm pretty sure i can handl-” your sentence came to a crashing halt at his undeniably quick response. 

“i’m going to fuck you within an inch of your life, actually. hows that sound? and its going to be for me, not for you.” your stomach dropped. jealousy sex sounded hot on paper but he loved to drive a response out of you, a yelp, a squeal until your cheeks were painted with tears and you were begging for him to stop teasing you.

“stephen..we could just talk this out, i promise you he was just drunk” you mumbled out, looking wide eyed. although you couldn’t lie to yourself, the way you were gently begging him to fuck you, to gain some relief. this shouldn’t be arousing but fuck it is. stephen noticed this, he also noticed how your cheeks flushed, and how your pupils dilated - he could read you like a book. 

before you could show even an inkling of shame or embarrassment for being turned on because of him, you yelped as he effortlessly slung your body over his shoulder - your legs failing in surprise and your ass in the air. you were brought back to reality by the familiar sound of his portals opening as you were no longer in the sanctum foyer. 

“stephen..” you breathed out as you were laid down on his bed, god you wanted him. 

“spread those pretty arms and legs for me, yeah baby?” His deep baritone voice was the only sense of sound you could focus on. you did as you were told and his fingers snapped, his godforsaken magic leaving you bare in his bed. the cold hit you, your nipples immediately hardening. 

“you just have to be good for me, huh sweet girl? that’s all i’m asking baby.” he whispered as he firmly grabbed your wrists and ankles, binding them to his dark oak bed posts. you laid there, looking defeated as he reached over you, stopping to hover and smirking condescendingly.

“don’t act like we both don't know you were pressing those pretty little thighs together 2 minutes ago” he chuckled. he knew your deepest desires, it was as if he could poke and prod around inside your mind, well- realistically, he probably could..much to your horror.

the last thing you saw were his scarred fingers holding fabric that he ever so gently tied around your head, blocking your sight. unironically he could have done all of this in less than 30 seconds with a wave of his hands, but was purposefully prolonging the torture knowing you were impatient.

“stephen.. please” you barely whispered, begging for his touch. he tutted devilishly at your impatience. he conjured an ice cube, placing it on your torso with no warning. you couldn’t help but squeal at the freezing sensation you weren't prepared for, he swirled it up and down your torso, slowly - leaving a trail of melted ice, now cold water that pooled around your lower stomach. your back arched at the sensation, pulling at the magical binding. you could feel a band in your lower stomach building inside you, you wanted to free yourself, kick, scream, touch him. his cruel tongue lapped up the water slowly, teasing you - a familiar feeling. the ice cube rolled over your nipples as you tugged on the ropes, your back arching and your body jolting forward as much as it could. 

“look at you... mm??” he laughed. the icecube disappeared and for a moment you couldn't feel his touch, you whined at the feeling. 

“is my little girl feeling needy?? mm..?” His head darted between your already spread legs, kissing the soft flesh on your inner thighs and lazily licking them, as if he was preoccupied. you moaned softly, the relief you felt for him to be even remotely close to where you wanted him. 

“please stephen..” you whined, tears pooling in your eyes in absolute desperation, throwing your head back as he slid his tongue between the wet warmth of your pussy, lapping up your slick in long, cruel strokes. the teasing bastard. he licked circles around your clit, but didnt touch it once - not yet. he placed his large hand on your lower stomach to further stimulate you as his goatee rubbed against your thighs, scratching and burning once again. you were shuddering and shaking, pulling at the robes like a fucking mess. 

“come on baby, give it to me. let me ruin you for a sec, yeah? i got ya.” he praised, as he paused to pepper kisses and then went back to work. it was only 8pm and knowing him, you still had at least 2 hours of this left.

#doctor strange fanfic #doctor strange fanfiction #stephen strange #stephen strange fanfiction #stephen strange x reader #doctor strange smut

[staycalmandhugaclone]

Arrows (Special Request) - Doc - Part 2

Part 2 of Arrow. If you're new, this all starts with Touch Starved!

My dear friend loves the whumpiest of whumps... this is what I have provided. This chapter Hurts. Happy Birthday @arctrooper69!!!

Also: got a new Poll up for your thoughts! Should Doc Have Her Own Blog?

Warnings: Bone/joint injury, profanity, vomiting, heavy whump, medical procedures/language, needles

WC: 2,650

Only the occasional rumble of Wrecker’s voice marked the passage of time as my mind lapsed into a haze of pain and silent pleas and something not quite reality. I wanted him to stop – needed – him to stop, the words begging for just a moment’s reprieve filling my mouth and halting my already choppy breath, but if I had managed to force them into existence, I was too far gone to truly hear it. The growing guilt and fear tensing his shoulders and quickening his stride, however, left what logic flickered within me certain I had spoken them, screamed them as my body struggled against him even now, unable to keep still beneath the relentless hurt coursing through me.

I vaguely saw the way my fingers clawed atop his back plate, felt my uninjured leg strain to find purchase against his hip, his stomach, boot dragging over plastoid in a futile attempt to push myself free of him. My throat felt raw, burning at the very thought of attempting to speak even as cries of pain continued to catch on nearly every breath.

“… seen her hurt before!” He was shouting. “This ain’t just some…!” Fading in and out. “…am hurryin’!” I hated the note of fear in his voice, hated my inability to offer him even a whisper of reassurance as the sickening chill of panicked sweat soaked into my blacks, mind balking amidst the lingering uncertainty that the world was spinning madly around me.

“Wr-eck… please…” Stammered. Broken. As soon as the ruined semblance of my voice choked past the tortured flesh of my throat, I couldn’t say with any certainty that it had ever existed as anything more than one of countless half-formed thoughts flitting too quickly through my mind to find any meaning.

“..ry! Kriff, I’m s… -ost there, jus… on…” I remembered the distant fear that nights on this planet would bring with them a chill, that I should pack an extra blanket for Echo, just in case… but the merciless cold at war with the fire raging through my veins was inescapable. Cursing through gritted teeth, Wrecker came to a sharp halt, sending a shockwave of sickening motion rippling through me.

“…orry-sorry; jus’… argh, just hol…” I tried to focus, tried to find some reason behind the sudden stop. A light thump seemed to echo from somehow just below me followed by the telltale trill of a blaster firing, the shimmer of a blue ring just catching my attention from the corner of my eye, and then we were moving again.

It wasn’t until feeling their hands ease me from Wrecker’s shoulder that I even realized we’d finally reached the others, and I had to fight to hear them over the deafening boom of my heartbeat, the static screaming around me… screaming… I was… I was screaming. Their touch felt like acid. The suffocating humidity from my frantic gasps sat heavily within the too-small hollow of my bucket, rebreather overloaded from how long I’d been hyperventilating, from how long I’d been abusing my vocal cords with ceaseless, shouted pleas, but, body nearly convulsing beneath the fresh torture of nerves shrieking against even the most delicate caress, those too-quick huffs came even faster, chest fluttering in something closer to a tremble than actual breath as they lowered me onto the ground… no… it wasn’t soil beneath me… a cloth?

“..ong with her?!” Hunter demanded. My uninjured arm coiled at my side, fingers burring mindlessly into whatever bit of fabric they’d laid me down on, leg continuing some listless attempt to push me up, to move, to flee this agony.

“-ey, hey, hey; come on, Doc; you’ve got to stop moving.” Some blurred visage of Echo flashed before me.

“…uncertain. I’ll need… remove the proje… test for toxins.” Pressure… pushing against my back, pinning me firmly to the ground… Panic resurging in a rush, whatever broken sounds of hurt caught in my throat turned desperate, body straining to reach for the man before me despite the arm nearest him refusing to even twitch.

“I’m here; I’m right here.” Echo murmured, so nearly stifling the fear from his voice as he quickly caught my hand in his. Somewhere nearby, Wrecker and Crosshair were… arguing? Yelling about something… at something… I tried to look, but someone held my helmet still, tilting it just enough to expose my neck. The sting of the autoinjector should have been a familiar nuisance, but the nerves reacted as though the thin needles gouged through muscle and veins and bone, and shied from it with a barked cry of agony, certain I would find a river of blood pouring onto the ground if I could just convince my eyes to focus.

“..et worse… can’t wait…” Tech’s voice seemed to spin around me, lilting on some faltering orbit as the words fluctuated between near silent and deafening. Maker, my chest ached from the frantic racing of my heart. “…lp hold her… pull…” The weight shifted atop me as something tugged at my armor. The first jostle of my shoulder as they removed the bell sent a burst of white across my vision, stomach heaving against the sickening hurt and fire and wrong as something clicked against bone. My hand wrenched away from Echo to claw uselessly against the joint, body trying to curl onto its side despite that relentless weight holding me down.

“Don’t le… move her arm.” Something tightened around my elbow, locking the useless limb in place. I think I was still screaming. Begging them to let me go. But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t fight them. Every muscle lay taut, teeth clattering violently from the terrible tremor wrought from cold and panic and pain.

Only when the wretched thing piercing my shoulder began to move, did I fall silent, throat locking shut in those first few seconds, the entirety of my existence too overwhelmed with that deathly wrong hurt to remember anything else. With a sickening hyperfocus, I felt every shift, felt the faint tremble from how his hands shook, felt the tiny twists as he worked to ease it free without furthering the damage or severing a tendon.

For just those for first few seconds, no sound could escape me, but then the trance broke, and I couldn’t remember how to stop as air I didn’t know my lungs still possessed tore from me in a sound I could barely hear over the static blaring in my ears. I don’t know when the thing finally came free, the vague awareness of Tech calling Echo’s name more akin to a near forgotten dream than reality before a new pressure burr down against the wound.

“Why … still awake?!”

“ …’t know, but …”

The weight shifted atop me, centering over my hips as their voices pulsed in a nauseating dysrhythmia. Hands tightened around my thigh like a vise and, before I could more than gasp at the terror of what was to come, something else settled over my calf, trapping my leg between them.

“-on’t look, Doc,” I didn’t even realize my head had been trying to twist enough to see them, movements halting and unsteady, until Echo’s words rumbled through my helm’s speakers. If he said something else, I couldn’t hear it as Tech began prying the second projectile from my knee. My back snapped up, body thrashing in a futile attempt to unseat them.

The pressure against my shoulder faltered slightly amidst a tiny grunt of pain, just audible above the frenzy of orders being shouted between the others, but my entire focus locked on it. The guilt that twisted through my chest was crippling as I quickly wrenched my hand back, unaware when it had lashed out for something, anything, and found only Echo’s thigh, fingers clenching ruthlessly around the muscle just above his prosthetic.

“Kriff, no-no, it’s okay.” I think he called my name, offered some manner of gentle reassurance, but that brief flash of lucidity was already overwhelmed by the deathly cold slicing into my knee, the certainty that they were cutting through the joint entirely as fumbled pleas tangled once more atop my tongue between the feral keening my screams receded into.

“Tech, yuh … -thing for the pai…” Wrecker was shouting.

“I – ng – I have!” He snapped, and even I could hear the struggle in his voice. “Hunter, hold h…”

“I am!” There was no relief when it finally came free, when the notches of whatever stone was lashed to the tip of that slender shaft broke through cartilage and tissue alike before slipping out from the ruined joint, nerves still aflame in the echo of that agony.

“Need to flush… try to… -oxins…”

Crosshair’s rifle fired twice, followed by a shrill cry from somewhere in the distance.

“More incoming.” There was a sharpness to his words I wasn’t used to. I wanted to see him, to understand why, but I couldn’t move beyond the way my body shook. Something pressed into the wound, stretching torn flesh before forcing liquid into the joint. My torso bucked, writhing against the cold and pressure and Maker, why wouldn’t it stop.

When the same hurt poured into my shoulder, I couldn’t hold back the gag, stomach convulsing as my body seized. Someone cursed and wrenched my bucket off. I didn’t notice the way he paused, didn’t see who dragged the wet gauze over my cheek to clean away the remnants of sick.

“Wh… what the kriff is …” I understood the horror in his voice more than the words, and fought to search for him amidst the churning colors… Echo… Confused, I belatedly realized he wasn’t looking at me so much as my face; my skin. “Tech, what is-”

“Think they want their friend back.” Wrecker called out through an audible scowl.

“Later – we need to move!” Hunter yelled over him. The rapid chirping of a heavy repeater joined Crosshair’s rifle.

“Too bad,” He growled, “That thing’s coming with us.” The cloth shifted beneath me, hugging my form as it began to rise. A stretcher… that’s what they’d laid me down on. Echo and Tech stood at my shoulders while Hunter took the position at my feet. I could still hear Crosshair and Wrecker firing rapidly behind us as we fled.

Every pounding footfall sent tiny percussions rippling through me, but my throat was too raw for anything more than a tortured wheeze. Muscles in my forearm, my thigh, stretching down my back began to lock, too exhausted to make sense of the continued abuse from how violently I trembled. Couldn’t unclench my hand… couldn’t breathe as I merely waited for my spine to cave; waited for that inevitable snap that never came.

“Everybody in! Get the ramp closed!” Hunter’s order boomed. The darkness of the Marauder’s halls granted a comfort at least in its familiarity. Home. This ship was home. Nearly the instant I was lowered onto my bunk, the faint hum of a scanner loomed over me.

“The toxin is blocking acetylcholine uptake as well as a few other autonomic functions,” Tech stated.

“What?!” Hunter barked. Someone’s hand rested over mine, but I couldn’t force my fingers to loosen enough to return that touch.

““It’s preventing her nervous system from self-regulating; she can’t moderate her heartbeat or”

“I heard what you said – what the hell can we do about it?!” He interrupted sharply.

“I… I d…” I could hear how desperately he fought against voicing the answer, how he balked at what it meant.

“Dank farrik!” It was such a rare thing to hear that kind of anger in Hunter’s voice; that fear. Knowing I was the cause sent a fresh surge of guilt twisting through me. “Is that thing awake yet?!” Silence followed by another sharp curse. Something shifted near the IV I hadn't noticed them place in my hand, and I vaguely noted Tech shuffling beside me.

“What was that?” Echo asked, not trying to hide the depth of sadness stealing through him.

“Beta blockers – I don’t know how to cure her, but I can try to treat the most dangerous symptoms.” He answered. A moment later, the daggers of the autoinjector tore into my uninjured shoulder. Despite how my breath caught, nearly hissing through clenched teeth, my throat was simply too raw to form anything near to the scream vying to escape.

“That was the same neural inhibitor she used for me.” He offered without waiting for the coming inquiry. “If her fever gets worse, there are more medications to try, but without knowing exactly what this toxin is, I can’t anticipate how it will interact with them. Until the need is urgent, that is all we should give her for now.”

The muscles in my arm were the first to respond, fingers slowly beginning to uncurl, and Echo’s small gasp held a hope I still couldn’t bring myself to feel. Fire continued to pour from the wounds, rippling through me with each beat of my still racing heart even as that terrible cold forced an occasional tremor from muscles long since driven past the point of utter exhaustion, but I could see… Thoughts once too frayed to grasp now lingered almost long enough to hold, and, as my eyes flickered listlessly before me, I managed to meet Echo’s gaze long enough for him to let out a sigh of relief.

Another touch settled atop my other hand, the sensation strangely numb in a way I would allow myself to worry over later. Gaze shifting wearily, I saw the anxious dread just twisting Tech’s normally sedate expression, saw how the fingers of his other hand tapped nervously against his thigh.

“Hey,” he sighed, thumb dragging softly over the back of my hand. “That stuff helping?” I couldn’t begin to answer him, eyes merely closing as my chest bucked in a weak sob. “Oh, cyare.” The heartbreak in his quiet whisper threatened to break me. When I forced my eyes open once more, straining to find him in the dim light, I ached at the defeated slump to his shoulders, the deep worry in the subtle downturn of his lips.

“I am doing what I can to chemically negate the effects of the toxin, but…” Desperate to ease his frenzy I forced my jaw to move, forced my shredded vocal cords to catch the huffs of air fleeing me in still too-quick huffs. “I would advise against trying to speak. I suspect you’ve damaged-”

“I…it,” I knew what he was going to say, but I didn’t care…. I needed him to know that his efforts hadn’t been worthless. “It… h-helped.” His eyes widened, and the rush of relief that swept through him was worth the razors clawing down my throat.

“Was that,” Hunter’s question died the instant he came back into the room, attention instantly locking on me, and the way he breathed my name still managed to send a tiny thrill down my spine as he quickly approached the bed. “We’re going to get you fixed up. Alright? You just need to hang on.” It wanted to be an order, but the threat of desperation in his voice rendered it into a plea. I tried to respond, lips barely managing to twitch around words my lungs and throat simply couldn’t manage.

“Hey, no-no; none of that.” He said quickly, hand reaching out to settle atop my shin. “Just breathe… okay?” It took a moment to convince the muscles in my neck to move, but I gave a small nod in reply. Hunter’s gaze suddenly turned pointedly toward the main hall of the Marauder, expression darkening.

“Tech. It’s waking up.” Before Crosshair even finished speaking, all trace of doubt fled the distraught man before me, shoulders stiffening as his jaw went taut, brows furrowing over suddenly sharp eyes as he turned toward the medbay door.

“If it has a language, I’ll decode it. They must have an antidote.”

Next Chapter

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[saints-who-never-existed]

Rereading The Terror

Chapter Fifty-One: Crozier

A reckoning approaches! My most frequent annotation in that chapter has been simply 'nOoOooOOoooOoO' and you'll see why soon enough.

They've arrived at Rescue Camp - about as far south as they can go on KWI before the coast turns north again - and the halt can't come soon enough. There are so many sick now that even the healthiest men are rapidly running out of strength to haul them along, and Goodsir has advised the Captain that no fewer than five men need their feet amputated, including Mr Diggle.

Crozier and Goodsir have also discussed, only among themselves so far, where to go from here and have proposed a gut-wrenching split. Goodsir will remain at Rescue Camp with the ill, while Crozier and the healthiest men carry on in hopes that they'll make it to rescue if they no longer have to haul their fellows behind them. "Crozier knew that the surgeon had voluntarily signed his own death warrant by volunteering to stay behind with the doomed men and Goodsir knew his captain knew it. Neither man spoke of it."

Out in the strait, the ice is in complete turmoil - "agitated and torturing itself" into mountainous peaks and troughs that Crozier believes even the indefatigable Manson to be incapable of hauling through or over.

And speaking of Manson, Crozier's thoughts soon turn again to the mutiny that's continued to foment. He hasn't trusted anyone nor been without the company of his most loyal men since the first mutinous stirrings a month earlier. But with tensions rising once more, Crozier has decided that when the time comes, it will be better to let Hickey et al go their own way and wash his hands of them - "The fewer men left at Rescue Camp the better, especially if it meant getting rid of the rotten apples."

Crozier calls a muster of all the remaining men (poor Mr Diggle dies just moments before this, bleeding out after Goodsir - with wee Tom Hartnell as his new assistant - amputates his foot). :((( Crozier has the bosuns draw in the gravel the outline of their long-lost ships' deck. "This allowed the men to know where to stand during the muster and gave them a sense of familiarity." They've apparently done this every time they've stopped in camp and been called to meet.

With the men assembled, Crozier once more reflects on who is now absent. He goes ship by ship and rank by rank from officers right on down to ship's boys. David Young is still alive in the book, as is George Chambers although he never recovered from the head injury he received at Carnivale and has been unable to care for himself or do anything but the most menial physical tasks ever since. Robert Golding is also still present - he's almost 23 now but is still "gullible in a boy's way" which is an interesting little detail.

On a lighter note, we learn that Mr Honey the carpenter is still clinging onto life in an oddly heartening, Blanky-esque way despite being riddled with scurvy and having just had both his feet amputated - "Incredibly, as of this assembly, the carpenter was still alive and even managed to shout "Present!" from his tent when his name was called at muster."

After a grim prayer, Crozier announces that from this point forward, each man may go his own way. Goodsir will stay with the sick, Crozier and the healthiest men will forge on for Back's River and if anyone else has an alternate plan, they're welcome to pursue it. It is then that Lt. Hodgson steps forward: "The captain just looked at the young officer for a long moment. He knew that Hodgson was a stalking horse [a fun phrase that I can't say I've ever come across before] for Hickey, Aylmore, and a few of the more rebellious sea lawyers who had been stirring up the men with resentment for so many months, but he wondered if young Hodgson knew it."

Hickey, Hodgson et al express once again their intention to return to the ship, and around sixteen men are counted in total when Crozier asks how big this doomed return part is set to be. As with David Young, we see some interesting differences from the show here - Morfin, Charles Best, and Billy Orren are among those sixteen men, and Gibson's mentioned too.

Three other men - Reuben Male, Robert Sinclair, and Samuel Honey step forward also but stress emphatically that they're not associated in any way with Hickey's band. They want to return to the ships also but will try to make it cross-country with only what they can carry on their backs.

Hickey announces - "folding his arms and standing legs-apart in front of his men like a Cockney Napoleon" - their intention to take poor brain-damaged George Chambers along with them, as well as the still-comatose Davey Leys (insisting that they've been taking care of him and want to continue to do so). "The hell you say," said Crozier. "Why would you want to bring two men who can't take care of themselves?"

It is then that Goodsir steps in to the fray (though it's a wonder he's able to do so given the absolute BAMF balls of steel he's got on him in the conversation that follows). "No" said Dr. Goodsir, stepping forward into the tense space between Crozier and Hickey's men, "you haven't been taking care of Mr Leys and you don't want George Chambers and him as fellow travellers. You want them as food."

Hickey is taken aback at that. He urges Manson into violent action but thinks better of it when the last few Marines, scurvy-ridden and barely able to stand, nevertheless raise their weapons. He settles for entreating Goodsir to come with them, insists that it's the only option for survival but Goodsir, preternaturally calm and collected, is having none of it and insists in turn that they don't need him for what they're planning... "Even an amateur can learn dissective anatomy quite quickly" interrupted Goodsir, his voice strong enough to override the caulker's mate's. "When one of these other gentlemen you're bringing along as your private food stock dies - or when you help him die - all you have to do is sharpen a ship's knife to a scalpel's edge and begin cutting." This alone is so SO interesting to me and I might have to write a separate post about it. It reminds me of his confession in the show - "if ever I was a doctor, I am one no longer" - for one thing. And it really does just speak volumes about how he views himself and the situation at hand. He's been self-conscious throughout the story in his skills as a lowly anatomist and his comparative lack of a "true" doctor's knowledge. But now he sees how little any of that matters. He's just chopped the feet right off five different men FFS - how could he not see himself as only a butcher now? How could he not see that butchery is all that's left?

He continues to describe the grisly processes of carving up a body for consumption, completely in control, his voice soft and never rising. Let's end on his gruesome, nightmarish climax, shall we? "...I recommend you put each other's bone marrow into a pot for cooking straightaway and let yourselves simmer before trying to digest your friends." "Fuck you." snarled Cornelius Hickey. Dr Goodsir nodded. "Oh" the surgeon added softly, "when you get around to eating one another's brains, it will be simplicity itself. Simply saw off the lower jaw, throw it away with the lower teeth, and use a knife or spoon to gouge and hack your way up through the soft palate into the cranial vault. If you wish, you may invert the skull and sit around it, scooping out each other's brains like so much Christmas pudding."

#The Terror #The Terror AMC #Observations #Random Observations #Meta #Rereading the Terror #Terror Spoilers #🤯 #Fuck me man THIS CHAPTER!!! #I want to say it's a treat for all you George Chambers enjoyers out there but that's not exactly true is it? #Francis Crozier #Cornelius Hickey #Harry Goodsir #George Hodgson #Magnus Manson #George Chambers

[imeternallylove]

Just don't ask me to make pancakes - Cpt. Price

Cpt. John Price x Reader

genre: angst but end with fluff

warning: traumatic stress disorder of miscarriage

word: approx 970

(gif belongs to me)

main mastetlist | request | prompts

It had entirely depleted you. You were not just tired but also uneasy. Blutcer making you resembled a young boy who had lost his father and died inhumanely at the embassy. Even taking the shot in front of his child, Amon.

Everything reminded you of your own child, who will haunt you for the rest of your life as a result of your work of recent. 

Even though you attempted to forget about it, the ideas kept returning. And you were on the brink of a panic attack.

Not only were you nervous, but so was the rest of the team, notably Gaz, who looks very similar to you.

Everyone was dissatisfied with the mission because nothing was getting done in a timely manner. You stayed so you could go over the evidence you had on one suspect in your pursuit of The Wolf.

“When you take the gloves off, you get blood on your hands. That's how it works.”

"We get dirty, and the world stays clean. That’s the mission."

Price, your boss, entered the base and came to a halt at your workstation. He gazed at you, noticing your erratic breathing. He took a step closer to your desk, standing off to the side. "Is everything all right, Y/N?" Your captain questioned softly.

Price wasn't hostile in any manner, but it was enough to tip you over. While clutching yourself, you looked to snap like a pine needle. Tears flowed down your cheeks as you closed the file.

"No, boss, I'm not okay," you wept. "How can I ever be happy? How can we possibly be okay? We apprehended him, but the fight is far from done." Breathing in becomes increasingly difficult for you. "So, that little boy at the embassy has to die, subjected to the same torture that my child endured when we fell from the helo because of that fucking RPG. And I-I... some nights I'm continuing to fight the same struggle."  

Price grabbed your arm and swung you around when you tried to brush by him. He drew you into an embrace, his arm around your shoulders. He ran his fingers over your hair, attempting to calm you down.

"Shh... Y/N," he said quietly. "Listen, it's all fine.  We're going to track out these jerk's hideout."  

Price seated you in your chair and reached for his phone. He couldn't have everyone on his team on edge like this, even you. He considered releasing you from your responsibilities, but he knew you couldn't. It meant more to you than simply apprehending another murderer. You wanted to wash away the guilt of killing Blucher in front of innocent people, as well as the miscarriage that took place while the team was attempting to apprehend Blucher.

When your boss observed you were still crying, he reached out a hand to you. "Come on, Y/N," Price simply offered.  "You're coming with me."

The moment you looked up at the Captain, you raised an eyebrow. "Where are we going," you stated, while your voice was quivering.   

He grabbed you from your chair, wiping your tears away with his hands. "I'm going to make you the best steak you've ever had, Sergeant." In the very dimly lit room, his tiny smile and wrinkles are still visible. "If you still want to talk about what's bothering you, we can do so."

You followed the captain to the base kitchen, which looked nearly identical to the last time you came. There was one change this time: instead of Gaz, your boss would prepare the steak for you.

You stood there watching as he effortlessly lit the fireplace. Then he went to the refrigerator and pulled out a couple of steaks.

"Price, why are you being so nice to me?" You spoke quickly, catching his attention.

"Are you saying that I'm not nice?" He asked lightly and laughed as he saw you shaking your head. "Now call me John," he replied lightly returning his attention to the steaks. "I just want you to be okay, Y/N."

You nodded and kept silent as he cooked the steaks in his fireplace. You're not in a war zone in the kitchen right now. He finished by slipping you a plate with your steak on it. You took out your trusty knife and chopped into the meat with ease. You hummed as you ate the delicious steak. "You make a mean steak," you added with a small smile on your face.

"Just don't ask me to make pancakes," Price muttered, his lips smirking. His distinct distinctive grin.

"Thank you, boss," you said softly, and after hearing his grunt, you looked over to his slightly troubling stares. "Thank you, John?"

"No need to thank," he mumbled, a slight smile back on his face.

After you finished your steak, Price took your plate and placed it in a sink full of soapy water. He sat next to you on the couch, waving his hand at himself.

"Oh? Did he want you to sit closer?" 

You decided to move in closer, looking for any signs of dissatisfaction.

You nestled against your boss's side as he wrapped his arm over your shoulder. "You smell nice," you mumbled to the soldier as you looked up.

"That would be the smell of ciga," he laughed.

"What if we don't find it, John?" You mused. "I don't want that, and we-"

Price stopped you, squeezed your shoulder, and kissed your brow. "Don't worry," he assured you calmly. "We will find them. We're a team, we've got Laswell, and we're going to succeed."

Finally, your captain followed through on his promise. You did locate the flat where all of The Wolf were staying. After the task was finished, you stayed with Price for a few days; his orders.

And those two days were the most memorable of your life.

#john price #john price x reader #john price x you #john price imagine #john price imagines #captain price x reader #john price x fem reader #price x reader #captain price x you #captain price imagines #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare #modern warfare imagine #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare II #captain price #captain price imagine #captain price x fem reader #captain price x female reader #price x you #captain john price x reader #price imagine #price imagines #call of duty #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #call of duty imagine #call of duty imagines

[izzystizzys]

steddyhands soulmates brainworm where in some magical post-canon (maybe s1? s2?) timeline the revenge is boarded by (gasp) actual capable pirates

izzy isn‘t up on deck when it happens, which is how it happens in the first place, and quite frankly he had a bad feeling about dropping anchor this close to port (insert past blackbeard shenanigans that turned him grey a good decade before anyone else) but when does anyone ever listen to his years of experience and expertise on this clown boat anyways

and. ok interlude. obviously they’re soulmates. obviously izzy has said nothing about it. he’s a fucked up little man with the selfesteem of a wet limpet this is selfexplanatory. obviously ed and stede are Eyeing him, but stede’s too repressed to say anything about it and ed’s too unwilling to admit he’s a very similar brand of fucked up to do much about it.

so. back to the program. even izzy cannot fight a whole entire crew - given that it is both the size it should be for a ship twice as large as the revenge and actually trained, go figure. does he still try? absolutely. everything comes screeching to a halt when someone gets a gun aimed at black pete’s head though, and they’re all rounded up on deck. there is no getting out of this one, izzy knows - he’s been on the other end of this too often not to. he wonders which one they’ll kill first, maybe fang or ivan to make a point, they’re on the stronger end of the crew -

“well well, what have we here?” the captain says, stopping in front of izzy with a leer that would usually see him relieved of one of his hands. he lifts the sharp edge of his sword to izzy’s neck, tracing the edges of the swallow izzy is cursing himself for putting in such a visible spot. “the polite thing to do here seems to inform you for the sizeable bounty on your head, hands.”

izzy sneers out a get fucked, and realizes several things at once: 1, edward cut off his beard just a week ago last, and is currently lounging in the last silk robe onboard. 2, bonnet has not a single frippery left in his closet, and has been forced into the man’s equivalent of torture (sensible clothes). 3, there’s no way charlie vane, who’s currently backhanding him to the ground, didn’t recognize at least edward.

and, 4: it may have been a mistake leaving the man to die of starvation and also marooning three years ago. obviously he can hold a grudge. should’ve shot him and be done with it.

this, izzy thinks as he’s manhandled over to where they’ve set up a plank to cross to vane’s ship, is where on the queen anne, the crew would’ve jumped into one of blackbeards ingenius rescue plans. scratch that, on the queen this would’ve never happened because the people are competent. the revenge’s crew is just shouting a lot and- whoa, he’s upright again.

vane is still smiling, the unsettling fucker, when he circles izzy’s gloved wrist with iron pressure. “you know”, he says, conversationally, “i’ve always wondered, about your mark.” cold fingers slide the glove off his hand, roll up his sleeve. izzy tries to squirm away from it, tries to throw his head back and break someone’s nose, but this is not pirate playgroup - this is a group of actual competents, a fact he curses silently as the mark is exposed to open air, a perfect match for his captains’. there’s a sharp chorus of gasps and then horrible silence that izzy cannot face, closing his eyes instead.

“hm”, vane says, “thought so.” and then pain explodes at the back of izzy’s head, and the world really does fade away.

#steddyhands #ofmd fic idea #charlie saw izzy washing years ago and instantly decided to hold on to Sensitive Information #the prick (justified??) #i lovr izzynapping fics and i think he should get to damsel a bit (he will rescue himself while the revenge is still figuring out rigging) #izzy hands exists at the crossroads of pathetic little meow meow and only competent person for miles to me #ed and stede staring at each other: what the fuck #stede: did you know??? how did you not know??? you were married for twenty years!!! #ed: we were MARRIED??? #that bit will never stop being funny #having to contend with the fact that you’re head over heels for your best friend/worst enemy #oh no he’s hot! (true love edition) #oh no he’s also kidnapped and about to be hanged! (no clickbait) #they try to pull off a daring rescue only to find izzy lounging by the revenge holding charlie vane at gunpoint back on deck #he is after all the only competent person for miles #do they get their shit together or does izzy lalalala i cant hear what youre saying hands refuse to accept their love right away? #who knows all i know is i want them to schlonk it silly style after cringefailing out of rescuing izzy #increasingly unhinged tags warning

[phantomram-b00]

Oh boy I got another headcanon today. This time with Ineffable bureaucracy since they definitely deserve their flowers after that W in the finale.

And also that they’re adorable af 🤭

Anyway, so considering Beelzebub favorite song is Everday, and Beelzebub gave him a cute fly. Gabriel was able to get ticket to an fair or amusement park because he saw they got rollercoaster (nudge nudge) as a surprise for them.

“You…got this for us?” Beelzebub would say giving a cheeky smile. “Didn’t take you for a amusement park, you surprise me everyday Archangel”

“W-well, I just thought since you got me something and you really like roller coasters“ he stumbles in his word as his face grows redder. “A-and You know, I just thought it would be nice if me and y-you would l-like to check out this humanly designed a-attractions these human invented a-“

“Of course I’ll love to go Gabe.” They chuckled as their face too grows red.

And then they go, Gabriel is in awe with how colorful the park is with there decor and almost all rigged games with cute plushies as Beelzebub talks about them. And they both raved as they play their rigged games; Gabriel starts to realize just how much he beginning to love humanity.. how could they destroy something so precious, so beautiful. And to see Beelzebub smile that glows it wash away his own worries back home. As long as they were both having fun, that all that matters in this moment. And to think they could destroy this planet.

Then, after using countless miracles to win prizes and consuming delectable park foods Beelzebub look up and smiles.

“Oi! Gabe! Check out this beauty. Think you can handle this one Angel?” Beelzebub daringly with hints of mischief in their tone as Gabriel look to see a rollercoaster ride with more loops than any halos manufactured. At least according to Gabriel’s view.

“Pfft, you insult me” he spoke to retort to amuse their banter with a smile. “You’re on.”

They ran to the rollercoaster and Gabriel start to feel his heart beating in an irregular fashion as they wait in line. ‘it’s fine! It’s fine! It’s fine!’ He repeats in his mind as they wait in line. Though the more he repeats the more he shakes. The more he look at the rollercoaster the more he’s shakes about having to deal with paperwork heaven forbid something happens. ‘It’s fine! It’s all fine! Don’t worry, you’ve dealt with worse things. I-I mean you even fight in the Great War all those millennia ago! It’s fine! It’s fine!’

Then they get to the front, Beelzebub look at Gabriel’s Violet shaking eyes. Their raise an eyebrow before

Oh.

Oh..

“Gabe, you alright?” They asked making a soft smile with a more soften look.

“O-oh! Yeah Pfft totally.” Gabriel shakes his head looking away from their gaze. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Let me guess, heart beating faster than the speed of light? Shaking? And thoughts going fast?” Gabriel hesitates before nodding. “Hm. Angel, you might be scared.”

“Scared? Me? Can’t be. I’m an archangel. How can I be frighten over this death trap.” Gabriel’s shaky laugh was all that needed to be said.

“You know. We don’t have to go. it was a silly dare. I may be a demon but I won’t even put the lower class demons through this torture. Though, that can be interesting to suggest to the dark council” Beelzebub snicker at the last sentence. But Gabriel can tell they’re being genuine.

“N-no. I’m willing to do it, j-just. What can be another way to help me not f-feel this..”

“Fear?” Gabe nodded again. “Well, from what I’ve understand with the complexity of these humans. You either can expose yourself and go through it. Or as the humans bravely say “face your fears” or whatever nonsense” Gabriel got confused. “Yeah human are very confusing, yet so crafty with their craftsmanship. But another is..singing while facing your fears.”

“Singing? Singing. Y-yes! Let try that.”

Beelzebub thinks as the rollercoaster came at a halt as the previous riders began jumping off. They didn’t know what can be a song that they know can soothe the poor supreme archangel’s fear. At least not the one they were thinking about with song from Metallica to fast pace instrumental music from the strings of electric guitars. Then the idea clicked, of course. ‘Buddy Holly do your work!’ They thought as they and the rest of the riders began sitting.

“Everyday it’s-a getting closer” Beelzebub sang as they begging to pull down the handles. Gabriel smiles.

“Going faster than a rollercoaster” Gabriel sang back as he reached to hold Beelzebub hand.

“Love like yours will surely come my way” they both sing looking at their eyes. The world stop for a short moment as they look at each other with reddish face.

“A-hey A-hey- Aaaaa!” Gabriel shouted as the rollercoaster blasted off and Beelzebub couldn’t help but chuckles. And soon. Gabriel’s fear also washed away. But not because the song calmed him but Beelzebub laughs was enough to make sure they’re okay.

#good omens #ineffable bureaucracy #I love this ship as much as I love ineffable husbands #good omens beelzebub #good omens gabriel #good omens 2 #buddy holly #thank you buddy Holly for this song #they got their happy ending and I love that for them 🥰 #good omens fandom #this headcanon hit me at 3am #good omens season 2 #i wish i have what they have