#hope this doesn't look TOO shitty rip

[starlightsearches]

track 8 with eddie!

all i ask is that it’s sub!eddie 🤞

Brat

So I lied earlier about deleting all of the requests for the mixtape milestone 😬 i did get rid of the some of the requests i hadn't started, but i couldn't let go of the ones i drafted, which is good news, because inspiration struck for this one!

Ex-boyfriend! Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW 18+, pussy eating, bratty eddie but he gets put in his place super quick, bondage, not a happy ending if you want them to get back together, language, and i think that's it!

You never thought you'd be back on Eddie Munson's doorstep.

Hands hanging heavy at your sides, a little taste of a summer breeze teasing at the hem of your skirt. You'd been full of a strange mixture of righteous fury and sick anticipation on the drive over but it's all gone now, a choking feeling in your throat when you lift up your hand to knock.

And you still can't do it.

Your eyes rake over his completely uninteresting door (are there even interesting doors?)— pockmarked with random dents and dings and sticky residue from long gone flyers—but you study it like it's the Mona Lisa, like it's got the meaning of life hidden somewhere in its peeling paint.

Fuck that. You didn't come here for the meaning of life.

Your knuckles meet the cool metal, once, then twice. The door flies open before you get a chance to drop your hand.

Eddie was waiting for you on the other side.

Heat floods through your entire body—and not the good kind—the oily feeling of embarrassment creeping up your neck. Had he been watching you through the peep hole?

He leans casually up in the door frame, arm stretched long above his mess of curls. The smile on his lips is so familiar it makes you ache.

"Hey, sweetheart."

Eddie looks good. Better than the last time you saw him—a little over a month ago, although not much as changed. Kind of stubbly, kind of toned. Still very, very hot.

There's no need to feel guilty for thinking it, but that doesn't stop your stomach from sinking as you drag your eyes down the white t-shirt he wears, band logo faded and the sleeves cut off, knees poking out of the rips in his jeans.

It should be ridiculous—a fucking caricature of a cool guy with his artful rips and the tats littering his arms. A Halloween costume on anybody else. But not on Eddie.

You push past him, like you push past the thought about how tight he wears his jeans. "Don't call me that."

He follows you into the living room of his shitty little apartment, kicking the door closed behind him. "What can I call you, then? Sugar tits?"

He doesn't even pretend to whither under your stare, although you feel like you cut glass with the look you give him.

"I thought I told you not to call me at all. Where is it?"

He's standing too close, looming over you with a little smirk. You can feel how hot his skin is. Feel the warm puff of breath from his nose on your cheeks. "Where's what, gorgeous?"

He never called stuff like that when you were together. Baby was his favorite. Princess when he was feeling sassy. Honey, but only on the rarest occasions, the sweetest mornings. That one always made you weak at the knees.

"The box of my stuff," —you're mad at him, at this, and it hits you hard, has you jamming a finger into his sternum, feeling the wiry muscle of his chest underneath the tee—"the one you left me three desperate messages about."

That humbles him a little bit. A very little bit, but enough to make Eddie shut his mouth for once. He points down the hall behind you.

"Bedroom."

You know the way, but let him lead. It's colder in his apartment than it was outside, the hair on your arms standing up, and you hold yourself a little tighter, cussing yourself out for leaving your jacket in the car.

"You look good," he calls back without turning in your direction, eyes on the clutter covering every inch of the floor, maybe hoping you won't notice the edge in his voice, “going out tonight?"

That was the plan—before this. "Yeah."

"Who with?"

Eddie doesn't even have enough shame in him to look embarrassed about asking, staring at you openly, like he has any right to know anything about your life now that he's not in it.

"You don't know them," you answer, and he laughs.

"Come on, sweetheart. Your friends are my friends."

And yeah, that used to be the case. Robin still called you up some weekends, inviting you out to girls' nights in a sad little tone. You made up excuses every time, but she still called.

Whatever. They were Eddie's friends first.

"Well, I made new ones."

Eddie runs his tongue over his bottom lip, crossing his arms across his chest.

“What’re their names?”

Jesus, he's such an ass.

"Just a bunch of guys I met outside a liquor store. Said they'd buy me shots tonight if I let them motorboat me in the parking lot."

"Har-har," Eddie rolls his eyes, but you didn't miss the look. His concern for you makes you itch. "Seriously, princess, just wanna know if you're keeping good company."

"Well, I'm not. Can I get my stuff now?"

And maybe you feel kind of bad for lying to him, but you can't let him know the truth—that it'll just be you and a couple girls from work. A few glasses of wine and some gossip. Hell, you'll probably be in bed before midnight.

Eddie digs around at the bottom of his closet, producing a cardboard box littered with garbage—a stack of magazines, some stupid teddy bear he won for you at an arcade, and a couple of bras you'd never be able to wear anymore with the way Eddie's spit is probably permanently fused in the fabric.

A wasted trip.

You try to take the box from him, but Eddie's grip doesn't budge.

"I can carry it out to your car, sweetheart," he says, standing up tall, "unless those biker guys are out there waitin' for you."

"I never said they were bikers," you respond, adjusting your grip on the box, pulling it tighter to your chest. It just has Eddie taking another step closer, big, warm hands sliding over yours.

"Good, 'cause I don't think bikers are your type."

He's whispering a little, lowering his voice all sexy in the way that always used to get you into bed with him.

Not this time.

"Oh fuck you, Eddie. What would you know about my type?"

"Uh, at least a little, honey," he laughs, smiling wide and boyish—so confident, self-assured.

"Don't—" you snatch the box out of his hands, "call me honey."

That's the landmine he's been waiting for you to step on. Eddie looks at you, ready to mash all your buttons until he figures out which ones will have you on him. You wish he wasn't so close to the right combination.

He stalks closer, trapping you up against the closet door, both hands planted above your head. You can't feel anything below your knees.

Voice low, breath wet up against your ear, Eddie says, "what are you gonna do about it, honey?"

The box falls with a whump, spilling all your shit across Eddie's bedroom floor. It's nothing compared sound of your body slammed against the door when your lips finally meet his.

You don't know who started it—whether it was your hands tangled up in his hair or him pinning you in place with his hips. You just know you don't want it to stop.

Eddie's running hot—hot hands at your waist and stubbly skin scratching up your jaw and his whole, hot body pressing up against you, moving just the way you like.

Liked.

You push his hands away with both of yours, trapping them against his sides, but it's not enough to stop him, his mouth at your neck.

"Come on, honey," he whispers, "I said I was sorry."

"I don't want an apology, Eddie."

He tries again, fingertips just brushing against your hips. He looks at you, eyes a little sad, a little too honest.

"Then what can I do to get you back?"

Fuck him. You didn't come here for that either. There's only one thing you want from Eddie Munson, and it's not a box full of bras.

"Get on your knees."

You're surprised his bones don't break with the speed he falls to the floor, thumping against the carpet. Hands already pushing up the hem of your skirt, face pressed low against your stomach. Maybe he's missed this as much as you.

"God, baby," he whispers against your thighs, fingers snaking under the hip of your lacy underwear, "knew you couldn't stay away."

Your knee juts out against his sternum, pushing him back.

"Stop that."

The look on his face is a little stupid, jaw dropped open and his brows furrowed. You were never like this when you were together, always deferring to him in one way or another. But you’re not together anymore.

You crouch down to his level, tracing the tips of your nails over the distended veins in his neck. Eddie's lids flutter, and then fall closed when your lips run over the same path, hand stroking faintly down his arm.

"You don't get to touch me, Eddie," you tell him, and he starts to nod, until his eyes flicker open again and he gets a good look at you, zeroed in on your tits and the low-cut of your dress.

"I- I don't, I mean . . . how?"

You slip the black bandana from his back pocket, give his ass a little squeeze. "Don't worry, honey, I'll help you out."

Eddie doesn't fight you when you push his wrists together, wrapping the cloth around them. He just stares, like he's trying to make sure this isn't a dream, his throat trembling when you pull the knot tight, letting the coarse fabric bite into his skin. You can almost hear a moan on his lips. But maybe you just imagined that.

Besides, you're not worried about what he likes right now.

Back on your feet, you rest your shoulders against the door, jutting your hips out toward him. Eddie looks up at you, big eyes wider than you've ever seen them, wiggling his wrists a little to see if there's any give.

You raise a brow, nudging at the ripped knee of his jeans with your bare toes. "Well?"

Whatever doubts Eddie may have had, they're out the window the second he sees you lifting up your skirt, revealing more and more of the soft skin of your thighs, the black lace you're wearing underneath it.

"Jesus, honey," he shuffles forward until his face is sandwiched between your thighs again, "you wear these for me?"

There's a little laugh on your lips, if only to cover up the way your breath hitches at the way he kisses at your skin, squeezing you between his teeth.

Even without his hands, Eddie Munson is dangerous.

You shift your legs wider so he can fit better, plant a hand in his hair and pull him closer to wear you want him.

"Not a chance, Munson. You think the next guy will like them?"

Eddie can't answer. Not vocally at least. His mouth is busy, tongue splitting your lips, before he stops to rub slow circles over your clit through the fabric. Like he's trying to tell you that there's not gonna be a next guy.

Fuck. You thought you were stronger than that, but maybe he's right.

Because, for all his faults, Eddie really knows how to eat pussy. Even without the use of his hands he's got you shaking—better than the feel of his fingers splitting you open, maybe even better than when he'd rip your underwear off you and dive in, nothing to separate you from the pleasure Eddie loved to give.

You're underwear are soaked, and not just from his spit, the sloppy way Eddie devours you, big eyes dark, looking up at you past the bunched up hem of your skirt. He's got you dripping, a little desperate.

Or more than a little.

Eddie's whispering when he pulls back enough he can speak, and you're shocked you can even hear him with the way he's talking directly into your pussy, and through the buzzing in your ears.

"Come on, princess. Let me taste you."

You snake your free hand down—because you want to, not because he asked, pulling the sticky wet fabric to the side. Eddie whistles low and soft when he sees your glistening cunt, the breeze sending a shiver up your spine when it meets your feverish skin.

He moves back in, slower this time, savoring the taste of you, his tongue peeking into your dripping hole and circling the edges, collecting your cum, drinking you up.

You press tighter against him to improve the angle, one leg coming up to rest on his broad shoulder. Eddie groans and the vibrations go straight to your clit.

Fuck, you're close. Close in a way you haven't been since you slammed the door to this apartment all those weeks ago—the kind of close you'd been looking for with your hand between your legs ever since, losing the feeling every time you were reminded that you should be thinking about anyone but Eddie.

But how could you manage? Head like this was hard to find.

Eddie knows that, the fucker, lips circled around your clit, sucking at you like his life depends on it. Your vision goes dark, eyes rolling back of their own accord. The only thing louder than your moans is the sound of Eddie's sloppy most working at your core.

You grind your hips down against his face, riding his mouth when the feeling overtakes you, body buzzing as those little uh uh uhs spill from your lips. Shock waves like fireworks traveling through you with each stroke of his tongue.

Fuck.

Eddie doesn't slow down, still abusing your poor clit, sucking at your puffy lips, trying to drain you of all those moans from you until you've got to drag him away by his hair or else he's gonna make you cum again.

And then you'll never want to leave.

Eddie looks up at you, face shiny, and he smiles.

"How was that?"

And it's almost as thrilling as that orgasm, the way his brain so clearly shuts down and stalls when you shift your clothes back to where they were, unphased, patting his cheek with a patronizing little look.

"Passable. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have plans."

Eddie doesn't have quite enough balance to get back on his feet with his wrists still tied, so he shuffles after you on his knees, tripping on clutter and knocking shit over.

"Wait a second, what about me?"

He waves his hands in front of his face, like you might have forgotten that you tied him up, like it wasn’t the highlight of your day.

"I'm sure you'll be able to figure it out, princess."

You don't even bother to look back, and the satisfaction that washes over you probably feels better than heroin.

You're in the living room before you hear Eddie call out again.

"Hey! You forgot all your stuff!"

He doesn't get a response to that one, either. The last Eddie hears from you is the slamming of his front door.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #my writing

[serendipityrogers]

Undressed

pairing: simon riley x afab!reader

word count: 1.2k

content warning: creeper!ghost, she/her pronouns, reader gets undressed while simon is in the room and she doesn't know he's there, mention of male masturbation, body descriptions, no actual smut but MDNI.

an: more cod stuff, whose surprised? i saw a tik tok, and i came up with this. so i hope you enjoy. let me know if i should write some more stuff, even send me some ideas! not proofread!

Weirdly enough, Ghost enjoyed safehouses. 

Maybe it was the quietness that fell over the house when everyone was way too tired to be loud.

Or the secludedness of the house, away from all the political bullshit. 

Even if most of them were in shitty condition. 

Or the size of a one bedroom flat. 

Which both of those statements could be said about the one the five of you were currently in now. It was dark and dingy, none of the overhead lighting worked, so everyone was guided only by the few table lamps scattered across the house. Most of them being used by Gaz and Price who were using them to light their maps, trying to figure out the best way to get to their next location. But Simon had stolen one to read, cooped up in the only bedroom in the entire house. 

It was an old novel, one he found on the dusty bookshelves out in the living room. Even for its age, it was quite interesting. Almost interesting enough for him to miss the commotion coming from the small kitchenette that was located right outside the closed door. It sounded like a loud frustrated groan, and the shattering of glass. 

That’s when the bedroom door flung open, and you walked inside. Ghost only briefly looked up from the book resting in his large hands. You were mumbling something under your breath, and that’s when he noticed a large red stain on the white-beater you were wearing, and even on your jeans. “God, fucking damn it.” You muttered, picking up your rucksack from its place on the ground, and throwing it on the bed which was accompanied by a large creaking noise under its weight.

You began rummaging around in your pack, pulling out what looked like another tank top and a pair of issued-thermals. He was almost positive you hadn’t noticed him sitting in the corner, because you began unbuckling your belt, more mumbled curse words flying out of your mouth, and something to do with Soap, who he assumed was the cause of your frustrations. Once your belt was undone, you began fiddling with the empty thigh holster you still wore. 

Your small fingers fumbled with the small multiple small buckles, shaking with anger. Ghost looked back down at his book, figuring you were about to change into a new set of clothes that weren’t so saturated with whatever that red substance was. His eyes started on the first sentence on the new page he had flipped to right before you barged into the room. But his brain couldn’t concentrate on the tiny-printed words, reading the same sentence three times. 

When he glanced back up at you over the top of the book, you had finished fumbling with the holster buckles, and it was discarded on the floor. Now ripping your belt from the belt loops of your pants, discarding it in the same place. You had the same issue with the button and zipper of your pants, unsteady hands trying to fiddle with something so small. He glanced back down to try reading again, trying to give you the privacy you deserved. He could just stand up and walk out, but he could have startled you, or made you even more mad for not announcing his presence in the first place. 

So, he sat as still as possible, trying to just keep his eyes off you. But that didn’t last for very long, after trying to comprehend the same sentence for the fourth time, his eyes glided back to you, almost unintentionally. You were now shimmying out of your jeans, struggling as they clung to you in their wet state. “Fuck you, Soap.” More muttering under your breath. Ghost’s eyes trailed over the newly exposed skin of your legs, noticing your calves, defined from the years of training. Your thighs, also toned, but more malleable, a slight jiggle when you move. He imagined himself leaving bruises on the insides of them, bite marks even.

He admired the white cotton panties that covered the apex between your thighs, and hugged the fullness of your ass. He couldn’t help but notice the small bow that decorated the front of them. Definitely not in regulation, but he couldn’t care less at this moment. His mind was running wild with thoughts of you. He would be lying if he hadn’t thought about you in this exact situation. Except usually, it was him undressing you instead. 

Ghost had been attracted to you since the moment he laid eyes on you, almost three years ago. But he was not the type to act on it, or even hint at it, unlike Soap and Gaz. It was no secret that most of the team, excluding Price, who had taken on almost a fatherly role to you. The remaining three had some sort of interest in you. It seemed only natural when you were the only female in an all male group, but everyone was respectful about the situation. Gaz and Soap would joke about certain topics with you, but at the end of the day they would take a bullet for you without any question. Ghost would too, obviously. 

Ghost shook his head almost cartoonishly, trying to free his mind of the thoughts plaguing him. He shouldn’t think about you this way, you were his comrade, and these thoughts were too distracting to have while on a mission. At least, he thought that until you pulled the soaked tank-top over your head, exposing your bra-clad chest. The bra was nude, perfectly matching your skin tone. It was also stained red, so in one quick motion, reaching behind your back, you let the bra fall to the floor along with your other clothing. 

Ghost only had a side-view of you, but your breasts were perfectly sculpted for your chest, everything he had dreamed of while cumming into his fist after a long day of pretending you had no effect on him. Ghost had completely forgotten the book in his hands, the cover falling closed. He was completely gawking at you, no shame, well, maybe a little. But that was the last thing he was thinking about at that moment. He was disappointed, as he watched you latch another bra around your chest, covering your breast once again. 

Next was a white tank top, similar to the one you had on earlier. His eyes wandered down to your ass, taking it in for the last couple moments. Who knew when, or if, he would ever see it again. You struggled with the thermals, swaying your hips back and forth, trying to get the tight-fitting garment up your legs. They fit you snug, not leaving much to the imagination, the other men would surely get a kick out of them, but Ghost was the lucky bastard who got to see you without any of it on. With one last huff and shimmy, you turned and walked back towards the door, ripping it open again. 

“Soap, I’m still gonna kill your stupid ass!” You exclaimed, slamming the door shut in one smooth motion before disappearing back into the kitchenette. Leaving Simon there, the book still shut and completely breathless. And not to mention a raging hard on.

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley one shot #simon riley smut #simon riley imageine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley one shot #simon ghost riley smut #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost one shot #ghost imagine #ghost smut #cod #call of duty #modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare ii #modern warfare 3 #modern warfare iii

[christinesficrecs]

I love ALL of these fics but if they are a bit "too classic" for you, definitely read Mating Habits and The Dating Game. 🩷

Things To Do On The Dates You Aren't Having by lielabell | 5.5K | Mature

"So are we dating now or what?" Stiles asks the third time he finds himself doing the obligatory postcoital cuddling with a certain sour wolf.

A Heart is a Heavy Burden by lielabell | 41.2K

In Which Stiles: is accosted by unhappy witches, becomes friends with fire demons, is rescued by darkly handsome wizards, discovers hidden inner depths, is introduced to princes, and finds true love. Though not necessarily in that order.

And Dwell Beneath My Shadow by  lielabell | 8.6K

Derek is not stupid. He gets why Stiles puts up with him. It’s clear every time Stiles looks at him, the spicy scent of lust and arousal Stiles’s body can’t help but put off. It doesn’t surprise him. Not at all. Derek knows what he looks like, knows that his face and his body are more than enough to compensate for his shitty personality. Stiles wants him more than he is annoyed by him. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s not anything to be amazed over, nothing to write home about. Stiles isn’t the first– and most likely won’t be the last– hormone soaked teen who has panted over Derek.

Good Intent by lielabell | 4.4K | Mature

It’s dark out, no moon tonight. Just clouds and a bitter, cold wind that rips right through you as you move from shadow to shadow. You’re hunting, because you are always hunting, and tonight’s prey is the best kind: not too smart, not too old, and worth enough to keep you in the black for the better part of a year.

Nine Times Out Of Ten by lielabell | 4.6K | Explicit

Nine times out of ten, Stiles is the one being pushed back on the bed with his head tilted back to expose his neck. Nine times out of ten, Stiles's legs are the ones that are spread, his hands are the ones that grip the sheets. Nine times out of ten, Stiles gasps and moans and arches up into Derek's touch, Stiles's thighs grip at Derek's hips; Stiles’s feet lock together behind Derek's back. Nine times out of ten, Stiles takes and takes and takes and loves every single second of it.

But the tenth time . . .

The tenth time is different.

Mating Habits of the Domesticated North American Werewolf by lielabell | 35.4K | Mature

Derek doesn’t do pining. He doesn’t. So when it becomes clear that Stiles is much more interested in having Derek as a new best friend than a boyfriend, he puts on his big boy pants and makes it fucking work. He becomes the best goddamn friend a spastic teenager could ever hope to have.

The Dating Game by lielabell | 4.5K | Mature

Derek doesn't exactly understand how he ended up as a contestant on a dating show. He knows that it started with a lot of whiskey and a late night phone call to his sister and mockery. Lots and lots of mockery, because Laura never lets anything go, no matter how old she gets.

In Word and in Deed by lielabell | 7.7K | Explicit

Stiles has stopped saying "I love you." Derek wants to know why.

I Like My Coffee Like I Like My Men by lielabell | 2K

Seriously, sometimes Stiles thinks that the man is a plant by the owner, who is a hippie, through and through, but just business savvy enough to pay someone hot to sit on the premises and brood up a storm like a modern day James Dean, clicking away at his computer in his leather jacket with that pensive look on his face.

Upon My Skin by lielabell | 6.2K | Mature

"I smell blood." Derek draws in a breath through his nose, frowning like it's going out of style. "And ink and--" his voice trails off and his eyes widen slightly. "Let me see it," he demands, crossing the space between them and tugging at the hem of Stiles's shirt.

#sterek fics #sterek #ficrecs #fanfic writers #sterek fandom #author spotlight #lielabell #author appreciation

[hermesmyplatonicbeloved]

My Reactions to PJO TV Show Episode 1 and 2

Obviously beware spoilers.

[Things I didn't like about the show - link will be here when it's posted]

Things I liked about the show:

Young!Percy seeing through the mist (the pegasus on the roof was really neat)

Percy becoming an artist to draw what he sees through the mist (as a fanfic writer I will have so much fun with this)

The flash back to young!Percy and Sally talking at the base of the Perseus statue. That was amazing. Also the way Sally was kinda prepping Percy to stay alive in the greek world. Awesome addition imo.

Realistic bullying. I would've preferred it if Percy actually said, "I'm going to kill her," because that reveals so much more of his character and state of mind but I'm happy with his tv show line too.

The water fountain scene where the water pulls Nancy (and the toilet scene where the water knocks Clarisse and her goons back). I love how they kept that pretty much dead on canon to the books.

Percy talking to his mom about his life and school troubles. Percy doesn't share much of his quests because he doesn't want to stress/worry her, but I like that he's comfortable enough with her now to share.

Sally calling Percy "Perseus" when she wants him to listen.

Percy ripping of the minotaur horn and killing the minotaur with it.

Blue food. I would've preferred it if they explicitly said that the food was a symbol of hope & strength & rebellion against Gabe's abuse but eh. At least it was there.

The convo with Eddy outside the apartment. It really brings out the apprehension and feeling that you know Gabe is gonna be shitty.

Luke. He was so sweet and caring? Even more so than in the books I think. I love that. Luke being a friend when Percy was at his wit's end emotionally and dreading a fight? Awesome. The betrayal is going to sting so bad. I can't wait.

Clarisse is tough and cool? I mean, I know we don't get to see her depth and true character until SoM and the side story but like. They kept her strength. They kept her spear. Good enough for me (for now).

The archery scene. That was cool. I have issues with Chiron trying to teach a son of Poseidon how to use a bow and arrow (a weapon of the sky) in ttc/botl - like seriously, someone give this boy a trident - but it fits very nicely here before he's claimed.

Percy having his alone time on the beach or in the forest. Like Percy is canonically quiet and introverted. I like that they kept that.

The Poseidon cabin was awesome. I know how Percy's bed is in the corner and Poseidon's statue is pointing so that he's looking at Percy's bed. Almost as if to say that Poseidon is paying attention to Percy, even though Percy doesn't know it yet.

#pjo #pjo disney+ #percy jackson #disney+ #percy jackson season 1 epsiode 1 #percy jackson season 1 episode 2 #percy jackson and the olympians #sally jackson #clarisse la rue #luke castellan #rick riordan #percy #nancy bobfit #percy disney+ #percy jackson disney+ #pjo hoo toa #pjo fandom #pjo series #percy jackson show #pjo show #percy pjo

[ughgoaway]

19 with Matty as like a comfort thing 🥺

Maybe girlie is feeling a little insecure that day

love this!! I answered this prompt earlier as a teacher au thing, but I liked the idea of girlie being insecure so I wrote it again but a little diff! hope you enjoy :)

19- character A holding character B’s hands as character B eats them out, fingers intertwined.

18+ pls!! includes female receiving oral and body insecurity/general insecurity. 1.4k-ish

✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿

You pull at your skin in the mirror, the reflection staring back at you wasn't one you recognised. Your eyes look sunken and tired, and your skin is dull when it used to be full of life.

You could stand for hours critiquing every inch of you, what part of you is too small, too big, too harsh or too soft. And you did. After every shower, you stood in front of the mirror, assessing every inch of yourself.

Matty hated it. of course, he did. You were perfect in his eyes, beyond perfect. but he couldn't stop you.

It happened like clockwork every few weeks. However, today, it seemed especially bad. The usual 10-minute assessment dragged on, becoming longer and longer with every tug and prod. He could almost hear your inner voice screaming about how you're not good enough for him and that he deserved better.

Eventually, you came to bed. Flopping on the mattress and immediately trying to burrow yourself under the blanket. but before you can, Matty grips the blanket and pulls it from your hands, forcing you to flip over and face him.

“I know what you're doing,” he says bluntly, eyeing you suspiciously.

“M’okay. I'm just tired. Long week.” you say softly, throwing matty a half-hearted smile.

You're lying. You both know that for a fact, but you pray that just this once Matty lets it go.

He doesn't, of course.

“Baby, I can see right through you. Standing in the mirror for half an hour and mumbling to yourself angrily doesn't exactly scream “im okay”” he pouts teasingly at you, and you can't help but giggle at his pufferfish face (a term you coined for that exact look early on in your relationship)

You sigh heavily before answering, “Yeah, im just - I don't even know. Feeling shitty I guess. Ugly, insecure, unloveable. You know, all the usual Friday night emotions” You try to lighten the mood with a joke, but everyone who knows you knows you joking is a sign something is really bothering you.

“You are none of those things, my love. Let me prove it to you, yeah?” Matty asks, moving to hover over your body.

You can already feel an ache between your thighs at the sight of your boyfriend above you, but you still can't shake how you're feeling.

“You don't have to, matty. I know I don't look great right now. Don't feel pressured or anything, I'm sure I'll just sleep it off.” 

“Never feel pressured with you, I just want to show you how beautiful you are to me, will you let me?” Matty looks down at you with soft eyes, and you can't pretend you don't want him between your legs for a second longer, giving him an assured nod.

“Gotta use your words for me, baby,” Matty lightly demands, dropping his mouth to your neck and pressing kisses to your skin.

“Mmm yes. Make me feel good, please,” you beg, gasping as Matty nips your neck playfully, soothing each patch of skin with his tongue.

“Thats my girl. Gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart.” Matty whispers in your ear, pulling back with a Cheshire-cat-like grin that has you blushing.

You try to turn away from him, the weight of his eye contact feeling like too much. But Matty places a hand on your jaw, dragging your face back to his and connecting your eyes once more.

Matty holds eye contact as he drops between your thighs, peppering them with kisses and hushed compliments as he moves to where you need him most. His fingers fall between your legs, parting your thighs and spreading you open for him.

“so pretty” he whispers, pressing a chaste kiss to your clit that rips a gasp from your chest. you can already feel your nerves thrumming with desire.

“Please Matty just- I can't take any teasing, please,” you beg, closing your eyes and trying to catch your breath.

“Anything you want, princess, take my hand, yeah?” Matty’s hand moves from between your legs up to grab your own, lightly gripping your hand to ground you and remind you that he wants you. He wants to make you feel good.

You smile softly down at him, looking into his eyes and memorising the exact way he looks right now, to live in your head for as long as it can.

With his hand in yours, he starts mouthing your cunt, moaning and licking your slick like he's devouring a sweet peach, juices running down his chin as he consumes you.

He’s practically making out with your cunt, burrowing himself between your legs and doing everything he can to make you feel good. Every few minutes you can feel a mumbled complement vibrate against you.

“Tastes so good angel.”

“So beautiful for me.”

“Good girl.”

Every vibration of his words against you pulls you closer to the edge. You can feel your skin growing pinker as matty continues between your thighs, a thin sheen of sweat covering your body. Matty is grinding against the mattress below him at the sight of you, but you're too lost in the haze to notice anything right now.

You roll your hips needily against Matty's face, and he immediately understands your silent pleading, moving faster against you and making the fire inside you grow even brighter.

Matty flicks his eyes up to you as he works his mouth over you, slick covering his cheeks as slips a finger inside you, smirking at the broken moan that falls from your lips. Every time his nose brushes your clit you feel a bolt of lightning strike you, your pulse quickens with every touch.

the tension in your gut is growing, and you squeeze mattys hand to warn him, whimpering “close” as best you can between the needy moans and whines.

Matty pulls away briefly, “Cum whenever you need to princess, so good for me.” As soon as he finishes he's diving back between your thighs with a new fervour, fucking you with his tongue and purposefully using his nose to stimulate your clit.

The mix of his tongue and his finger burrowed inside you is dizzying. The air is thickening around you with each passing second, and the only noises filling the room are a mix of your lewd groans and the sticky noises of matty worshipping you.

The neverending streams of compliments and his unrelenting pace against you soon push you to breaking point, coming undone with a whimpered “thank you” and shaking thighs.

Your legs grip around mattys head like a vice, keeping him buried between your legs. And he honestly couldn't be happier with that arrangement, squeezing your hand as you cum to remind you why he's doing this, to remind you how absolutely obsessed he is with every part of you.

Eventually, your legs loosen as the aftershocks stop rattling through your body. The goosebumps over your skin begin to fade, and you start falling back to earth.

Matty quickly moves from between your legs, hovering over you before leaning forward and desperately kissing you, pressing his tongue into your mouth so you can taste yourself. You groan at the taste, moving your hands to grip Matty's hair, grabbing his curls and pulling him closer against you.

You only break apart when your need for oxygen demands it, Matty panting above you with an overjoyed smile on his face. You smirk back at him, planning to repay him in the best way you know how.

But as you move your hand to grip his boxers, you feel the distinct lack of a boner and the presence of a damp spot sitting on the front of them. Your eyes flick down and study the dark grey patch on his underwear. You scrunch your face in confusion for a few seconds until it dawns on you.

He came. Untouched. Just from eating you out.

Matty sees the realisation on your face and groans, dropping down and burrowing his face in your neck. You can feel his cheeks growing hot as you giggle at his reaction, matty brings his mouth up to your cheek, pressing a kiss to it before he speaks.

“You're just really hot when you cum, im kind of obsessed with it. and you.” he whispers, pulling back to look at you with a cheesy grin. His eyes trace over your face, memorising every aspect of how you look.

Even if one day you become a stranger, if this all ends, he wants to remember exactly how you look right now.

He wants to remember the flush on your cheeks, the way the tip of your nose scrunches when you giggle, and the distinct glow of love in your eyes. 

“Love you,” you whisper, leaning forward until you are a few centimetres from Matty's lips.

“I love you too” he whispers back, surging forward and catching your lips in a kiss he hopes conveys every bit of love that his words couldn't.

#sappy shit #i love me some lovey dovey smut #the filthy stuff is fun too tho hehehe #but yes they are very in love!!! #(idk about this... sorry if it disappoints anon </3) #anon! #matty healy smut

[mazdoe]

First Date at the Rave´N

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x fem! reader.

Summary: Wednesday is loosing her sanity or so she thinks, all because she just can't explain why she can't hold her tongue around you. Its like your presence alone makes her want to tell you how she feels about you.

Warnings: Non just Fluff. Very in love Wednesday. Aged up Wednesday to 18/19. English is not my first Language.

"EniD help me" Wednesday demands as she found her mind wander of to y/n again. "She is doing it again!!" she almost screeched. "She is doing what again Wednesday?" enid asked, pretending to be clueless. Even tho she knew exactly what Wednesday meant. For weeks actually since y/n ´s first day at Nevermore academy has Wednesday been acting strange more than usual some would say she has lost her mind completely now.

At first she thought that the Murderer that was roaming the Forest around Nevermore was the cause of her problems, she almost got excited. But as soon as y/n entered Wednesdays field of vision her mind seems to go bonkers, all she can think about is her eyes or the sweet vanilla scent of her hair. On particularly bad days she can't seem to even form the most simpel of sentence. Wednesday really hoped she was growing insane, but after telling Enid about her so called symptoms. And Enid had the nerve to just laugh in her face.

But now it's different, Wednesday asked y/n to be her date for the dance. She actually didn't want to go, but when she meet y/n after class at the greenhouse her tongue just got loose and she asked if she wanted to go to the dance with her. And to Wednesdays surprise she said yes.

"It's terrible! Just terrible" Wednesday repeated while walking up and down the dorm in the beautiful dress Thing had picked out for her. "Everything is gonna be great Wednesday, she said yes that means she likes you, doesn't it. And judging by the bit of blush on your face you do like her too." Enid laughed as Wednesday frantically searches for a mirror. "How do I get the color off of my face" Wednesday asked frantically. "I have to be at y/n´s Door in like 5 min, How do I look normal again?".

A knock on your door makes you get up from your uncomfortable position on your bed. You almost slip on your gown before you finally get ahold of the doorknob. "Hey Wednesday" you said feeling the heat creeping up your face. She looks so Beautiful in her Black dress "you look pretty" "What did you say y/n?"

"ahh I said you look shitty..good night! I...I mean lets have a good Night hehe!". You could face palm yourself for that last sentence, now it sounds like you don't wanna go even tho, you hoped to get asked by her so despradly, you asked Enid almost every day if Wednesday already had a date and ofc now that she is picking you up you have to blow it.

But to your surprise a smile tugged at the corner of her lips instead as she offers you her hand to take, wich you gladly except feeling tiny butterflies in your stomach as your warm hand fits almost perfectly into her cold one.

You got into the venue as some of the last people, still holing tightly onto your Hand, Wednesday lead you to the dance floor just in time for the Dj to start a new song. Unsure of what to do now you just started to sway lightly, watching Wednesday closely as she danced, joining her soon. She twirled you around for a second before throwing her arms into the air again, her eyes never leaving yours as you tried to mirror her movements.

A breathless Laugh escaped your lips as a slower song started to play, and Wednesday dragged you on the dance Floor once again. Her hand held tightly onto your waist as she pressed herself closer to you as you slow danced. Faces only a few centimeters away from each other.

You could feel her eyes staring at your Lips, almost like she wanted to rip them off and keep them to herself. A quick glance into her desire field eyes, made you softly press your lips onto hers, hands placed other shoulders as you looked back up to her. "You still think I look shitty y/n?". Heat creeps into your face once again, this time you were sure you looked like an over ripe tomato. "you know I didn't mean it that way" you whispered but she heard.

A Hand tightly around your wrist as she tugged on your arm dragging you out of the Festival and into the shade of the Building as she tilted your chin up, eagerly pressing her lightly shaped lips onto yours. Engulfing your Lips in a passionate Kiss. "I love you y/n".

------------------------------------------------------------------------------A/N: Just so you guys know I also do requests for the Wednesday (2022) Fandom, if you have anything that you would like me to write just let me know. I also apologize for any mistakes I made language wise.

#wednesday × reader #wednesday x you #wednesday × y/n #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams × you #wednesday addams x y/n #wednesday addams #wednesday

[spacexseven]

ALSO since you are a lover of The Chuuya ill do some pathetic subordinate au chuuya stuff too! I'll try to make this one shorter since the dazai one is such a monster.

I think hed kinda do the opposite thing that dazai does- not that he doesnt kiss your ass a LITTLE, he’ll definitely send a bunch of gifts to your house and rush to complete some of your work for you and write you love poems (that he never sends, too embarrassed. probably for the best. his prose tends to go from Suprisingly Sweet to Incredibly Creepy really fast.), but unlike dazai hes pretty attached to his reputation and thus doesn't wanna burn it away by sobbing for you until you finally cave and come hold him, as much as he might like to. to keep up his street cred while still getting you to trust him, he'll have to be more subtle. (he's not subtle at all everyone knows)

I could see his MO being to just kinda. put himself in your space as much as possible. surely, if he just hangs around you and doesnt insult you or anything like that you'll eventually realize hes not that bad? he'll even come and help you with your work, see! nice guy, really! please forget all the shit he used to say to you and that time he choke slammed you into a wall he won't do it again!

he finds himself really wanting to be useful to you. he was a pretty shitty superior, he'll admit that, but there has to be a way to make it up to you! if there's something you want, he'll get it for you. a task that needs doing, he'll complete it. a nuisance that needs to be dealt with, hes your guy. very easy for him to go to the traditional Ill Kill For You yan route here, anyone whose bad to you will know his WRATH. abusive relative? not anymore! cheating ex? bye bye! some fuck harassing you? gone! anyone who hurts his angel has to die, hes put you through enough already as it is.

- 🩹

i love your wonderful brain my friend :>

cw: yandere themes, stalking, implied breaking in + murder

compared to dazai, chuuya's hit by guilt faster, and harder. it takes a great toll on him, but he abhors the idea of anyone knowing that he was feeling broken-hearted and remorseful over some lower-ranking member. so unlike dazai's public (and embarrassing) pleads for forgiveness and lovesickness, chuuya's far more...silent about it. sure, he makes sure you're receiving his gifts, lightens your workload, and watches out for you, even deciding to avenge you in many instances. he's aware of and has long accepted the fact that he will never be recognized for his efforts, never be thanked for his help and he definitely isn't going to win your favor with anything he does, but how can he leave you alone?

of course, everyone else knows. there's whispers amongst the members of black lizard that executive chuuya nakahara personally takes care of anyone who dares utter a single negative word about you, koyou has to deal with chuuya's numerous requests for advice, and even dazai knows that chuuya's become a lovesick little puppy (naturally, he fails to notice the irony).

it's a regular sight now, to see chuuya bent over and scribbling on a piece of paper, before groaning and ripping it to shreds. anyone who manages to put together the strips is able to see what looks to be multiple lines of poetry, quite eloquently written if not for the extreme emotions being expressed in them.

while he avoids meeting with you directly, chuuya can't help but linger. he waits around the corner from your home, hoping to catch a glimpse of you walking by. he stands by the pavement outside the bar you frequent, cigarette in hand, figuring out a way to bump into you and make it look accidental, hopes you'll stop if only to stare for a moment. at least he's not all in your face and annoying you to no end like someone is, and that should score him a few points, right?

and yes, he yearns to be of some use for you, wants to help you in any way possible so that you don't see him as a nuisance and throw him aside forever. and if helping you meant staying behind you and cleaning up, if helping meant exacting revenge in your name, or even if it meant staying out of your way, he'll do it without complaint.

#yandere bsd #yandere bungo stray dogs x reader #yandere bsd x reader #yandere bungo stray dogs #yandere bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #yandere chuuya x reader #yandere chuuya nakahara #chuuya x reader #drabble 🐟 #bsd 🐟 #ask 🐟 #anon 🐟 #dazai 🩹 🐟 #subordinate au 🐟 #chuuya 🐟

[justwearthegoddamncardigan]

Can you write platonic gladers x child reader (8 - 10), like when their in the scorch trials

AHHH I've been thinking about writing a platonic fic for so long but I wasn’t sure if anyone would read!!!! This request is so good thank you so much

The Heart

Gladers x child! gender neutral! reader (platonic)

Set during scorch trials (movieverse)

Notes: I decided to format this as headcanons to make it easier. Where Teresa is 'The Traitor', Newt is 'The Glue', etc, reader is tattooed with 'The Heart'. This isn't really in the story, just a note for the title and a general headcanon

Warnings: everything that happened in the movie, i.e. violence, Cranks, Winston shooting himself, and one instance of bad language cause apparently I don't have other vocab

Aris

You meet Aris when you've all escaped from WCKD

He's a nice guy

When you're gathering supplies in that abandoned building he picks out a bunch of little sweaters for you

Idk I get a sweater vibe from him

You wear the sweaters when it's night time in the Scorch, and freezing cold

In the days when it's too hot to wear them Aris carries them in his backpack for you

But that's really the extent of your interactions

You've just had more time to build up trust with the people of your own Glade, so it's easier with them, but you're still chill with Aris

Winston

You didn't really know Winston back in the Glade

But it still hurts when the Cranks get him

He shields you away, not letting you see his wound when he shows the others

The Gladers help him do the same, hiding you from him when he starts looking worse

It's like there's some silent pact between everyone to protect you from seeing as many bad things

Your age seems to make them want to preserve your innocence, or something

Anyway, he always looks after you, until the end

RIP Winston :(

Frypan

He always had a soft spot for you back in the Glade

(everyone did)

That kindness doesn't stop when you're out in the Scorch

He always makes sure you've eaten, and he even offers you some of his food, even though he probably needs more than you

Frypan does his best to keep the mood light for you, cracking little jokes and pulling faces to make you smile

Teresa

For Teresa, you're actually a reminder of what the world was like

Look, we all know Teresa betrayed the group, and that was really shitty

But we can get her motivations sometimes

She looks at you and sees the people she should be saving, the people she wants to protect

You're actually a symbol of hope in her mind

She wants to make a cure so that people like you can live in a world without the Flare

Of course, you would rather she just not betray all your friends, but that's just how her mind works

For you, she's kinda like an older sister... or a mother (lol)

You always sleep beside her at night, and she'll hold your hand while sleeping so you don't have nightmares

Thomas

Thomas is actually kind of a role model to you

You admire his relentless no-one-left-behind mindset, and his bravery

He doesn't really have time to look after you like the others, but you always fuel his spirit with your unfailing optimism

He makes the most time with you at the end of the day, when you're resting

He comforts you when you're scared at night, staying awake to talk to you about simple things, or to tell you a story to take your mind off your fears

You cuddle up to sleep between him and Teresa, giving both of them some calm and peace, since you can tell his mind is always moving a million miles a minute

He's kinda like Teresa with you, actually

They both look at you as a hopeful future, something they have to work towards to protect you

But the difference is that Thomas works to get you and the rest of the group to a safe place, while Teresa... you know, gives you all up

Newt

You trigger some strange memories in Newt

He doesn't really remember, but he had a sister before

You remind him of what it's like to be an older brother

He protects you like his own sibling, making sure you get your sweaters from Aris' bag when it gets cold

He also defends you first when you end up at Jorge's warehouse

When the guard people are closing in on you, he shoves you behind him and threatens to kill anyone who touches you

Obviously they have guns and are stronger than the lot of you, so all you end up getting strung up by your feet

But hey, he tried his best, and it was all fine in the end

Minho

Minho is your favourite

(you're his favourite too)

He's snarky and to-the-point with everyone else, but he's always soft with you

Back in the Glade he'd always let you sit in the Runners' hut and chill out, just drawing pictures or messing around with sticks from the Map

Some days when it gets late, you get tired from walking and Minho will give you a piggyback ride

Usually you'll fall asleep on Minho's back like that, and he'll have to gently put you down, trying not to wake you

Minho's actually always carrying you

Like, in the hard situations - it becomes a regular thing

Some bad shit going down? Get on my back

He's carrying you when you're running in to the warehouse, and you almost get struck by lightning with him

Back when you were escaping the Maze, he was carrying you there too

Hope you enjoyed these :)))

Thank you for reading, and requests are open as always ❤

#the maze runner #god do I just tag everyone #maze runner headcanons #platonic gladers x reader #minho x reader #newt x reader #thomas x reader #aris x reader #teresa x reader #frypan x reader #winston x reader #my writing

[fckyouiwontdowhatyoutellme]

Okay so seeing that y'all went wild for my silly idea about Sanji having a tattoo motivated me enough to keep writing about it😊 fair warning, it's not beta read and it's been a while since i wrote that much. I hope you enjoy it anyways 🙈 (this part is mostly Zoro being stupid)

The shitty cook has a tattoo. At least Zoro is 99% sure he has one. And not knowing doesn't drive him crazy at all, thank you very much.

He first caught a glimpse of it when the cook changed his clothes shortly after joining their crew. From the corner of his eye and with the cook quickly turning his body away, he first thought it was just another bruise on his ribs but later he thought it looked too perfect to be one. And thus he started his mission of 'Finding out if the shitty Cook has a tattoo and why'. Sure the blond man was no saint but a tattoo still didn't seem to fit someone who almost exclusively wore suits. Maybe it was done in a misguided attempt of rebellion during his teen years? No the lovesick potato peeler was too prissy to do that. Unfortunately he was also really secretive about the tattoo and the fact that it was right on his chest made it very hard to catch another glimpse without having to undress the cook first. Not that Zoro wanted to do that.

He considered asking Luffy or literally anyone else about it, seeing as they were closer to the glorified waiter than he was. Sure they were not exactly best friends or arch nemesis but he still wished they were closer sometimes. Only for the sake of asking the cook about the tattoo of course, nothing more. His mission almost became an obsession over the next weeks, always trying to find a way of getting the cook to loose his shirt or trying to get a glimpse of his chest while he was changing.

He tried "accidentally" spilling some of his food on the Cook's shirt, that earned him a swift kick to the head and a lecture about not wasting food.

He tried slicing the cook's shirt during one of their sparring matches, that earned him some more fierce kicks and a lost fight.

He hoped to see it when they came along an island and Luffy decided they just have a lazy beach day, the cook wore a stupid undershirt and didn't even take it off for swimming.

He tried asking the cook straightforward in a moment of drunk weakness, it earned him a grin and a "Wouldn't you like to know, marimo" in a tone that definetly did not make his insides feel weird.

In another moment of drunk weakness he played with the idea of just walking over to the shitty cook, pinning him against the nearest surface and just ripping open his stupid shirt. That one took some alone time in the bathroom and a cold shower to get rid off.

Why was the cook so secretive about a stupid tattoo? Many people they met had tattoos and proudly displayed them to others. Maybe he tattooed some random girls name on his chest only to be rejected. Zoro huffed out a laugh, no not even the love cook would be that stupid. At least he hoped for it.

The longer his mission went on, the more impatient he grew. It was impossible to get a glimpse of the cook's chest without him immediately going into fight mode because at this point Zoro's only plan was to get off his shirt one way or another. The only option the swordsman never tried was to spy on him while he showered and Zoro was sure he would never sink that low because of the shitty cook. So he still tried to catch a glimpse in any way, even between fights in a desert, in the sky, battling the world government or some warlord. It was no use, the Cook's chest stayed covered in front of his eyes. Only his.

Apparently his friends all had seen the cook's tattoo at some point but nobody told him what it was. They all told him to ask the stupid potato peeler himself if he wanted to know, as it was not their place to tell. He already tried asking once, but the cook never answered. The whole situation kinda hurt, but at least showed him that the cook didn't trust him as much as the others.

It hurt for another reason too. One that Zoro decided to bury deep down the moment he noticed it. The Cook would never like him this way, so it was no use holding on to those feelings.

Unfortunately his mission involved watching the lovesick cook almost 24/7. That's how he learned that the blond sometimes hummed to himself as he cooked, that he had incredible skills with his kitchen knives, that he sometimes played with the chain attatched to his belt when he was nervous and couldn't smoke, that he sometimes cursed in another language (wich was unfairly cute) or spoke said language with Robin or that he often let Chopper and Luffy taste the excess batter if he baked a cake or that he usually ate alone after the crew left the galley, leaning on the ship's wall with closed eyes and a smile on his lips that Zoro never saw before (also unfairly cute). The feelings did not stay buried very long.

But then they got to Sabaody, Kuma happened and in the chaos of it all Zoro forgot about his mission for the first time in months. He never forgot about his feelings though, not even in the years that followed.

Two long years and some more chaos later their crew was finally back on one ship and on their way to the New World. It was easy for Zoro to fall right back into his old dynamic with the shitty cook. Still teasing and bickering at all times, tho it felt like some tiny thing had changed about the cook's behavior. Sure his appearance had also changed and Zoro could have sworn there was something new hidden under the blond man's stupid dress shirt, but the most noticeable thing for him was the way their teasing had changed. At times he swore the cook sounded almost fond while calling him some insult. Even more so when he did in his other language. French as Zoro had learned from Robin. The mysterious smile she gave him upon his question still confused him. He only asked what language she and the cook spoke, not that it had anything to do with trying to understand it. That plan had to be put on the back burner for now as Zoro still had his failing mission of finding out about the nosebleeding shithead's not so secret tattoo. It was almost unfair that everybody else had seen it, except him. The swordsman felt his frustration grow bigger, clawing at his sanity. Did he only imagine it? Was that why nobody told him what it was? No, he was sure he saw a red vaguely round something on the Cook's chest that looked too perfect to be a bruise.

He couldn't think about it for too long though, as the image of dartbrows without his shirt led to very different thoughts. Many of them including the cook with way more exposed skin than just his chest and leading to Zoro sneaking off to take cold showers more often than not. At least that meant less complaining about his apparent smell, mostly from the one person who was responsible. Not that Zoro cared much about that but it was nice.

The more time he spent pursuing his mission, the more clumsy he got in his attempts to get the cook shirtless. To add to Zoro's embarrassment the cook caught on to him, although not entirely. The swordsman still refused to admit his full body shudder after another fruitless effort to get the potato peeler shirtless. This time the cook had fought back, leaning in close to whisper "If you want to see me shirtless so bad, go ask like a good boy" with an audible smirk. That threw Zoro off for the rest of the week. He still wouldn't ask the cook, that would mean admitting defeat. And so he tried it his usual way again and again and again.

Until he had enough. Enough of his own increasingly stupid ideas, enough of his friends asking what the hell his problem was, enough of the cook's teasing that bordered on flirting by now. Since when was that bastard into guys? Not that Zoro was complaining but it only added to the chaos swirling in his mind. He needed to get his thoughts back on track if he wanted to get answers. So he hid himself in the crows nest, the repetitive movements of his training getting rid of all the juvenile ideas in his head. He trained all day until there were only two thoughts left.

1. Find out if the cook has a tattoo once and for all

2. Find out if the cook is into guys

Zoro decided to get both answers at the same time when he saw the cook approaching the bathroom. He quickly made his way down from the crows nest, thanking whatever gods that it was late and most of the crew in their respective rooms. With a few confident strides he made his way to the bathroom, finding the door unlocked. Taking a deep breath he opened it and stepped inside right as he heard water rushing. This was it. He did the one thing he never thought he'd do. The pervy cook must have rubbed off on him. He muttered a silent curse at the image his mind conjured upon his thought and instead focused on toeing off his boots as quiet as possible.

With one last deep breath the swordsman finally stepped into the bathroom, eyes trained on the cook that stood under shower spray with his back towards the intruder. Zoro quickly crossed the last bit of distance between them, not caring if his clothes got soaked. He didn't hear the literal squeak escaping the cook as he spun him around, carefully yet firmly pinning his hands above his head. He didn't care for the fact that he was very much within reach of his deadly legs. He didn't care for the fact that the man infront of him was naked. No, all he did care for was right there. Zoro didn't imagine it. The shitty lovesick excuse of a cook had a tattoo and it did things to him.

It was right over his heart, red and black contrasting against his pale skin.

A rose and underneath...no. fucking. way.

Zoro first thought he imagined it or that it was part of the rose, but no. Right underneath it were four letters, a name.

'Sora'

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

Okay so that's all for now, but don't worry I am actively working on a part 2 because I had a loooot of ideas for Sanji's tattoos. Yes plural🤭. If you're curious you can listen to 'Rose Tattoo' by Dropkick Murphys because that song heavily inspired the entire thing. Maybe you can guess what else he has a tattoo for~😊

#zosan #zosan fic #black leg sanji x rorona zoro #one piece #black leg sanji #roronoa zoro

[griefabyss69]

Pulling

Written for @steddiemicrofic!

[ AO3 ] [ Tip / Commissions post ]

‘EDGE’ wc: 509 | rated: T | cw: Still just weed!

Here's 2/4 of Eddie's side of The Hole Story (Rated E), there will be 2 more installments <3

Steve surprises Eddie by accepting his offer.

His favorite customer shouldn't be Steve.

The guy who just last year he'd wanted to knock down ten pegs, who he would try to scare with the big bad satanic wolf routine, who he'd been so pissed off about lusting after that he didn't dare complain even about it even while three sheets to the wind in Gareth's garage after band practice.

He's just so… he's so.

God.

He'd been staring at Eddie's mouth again, encouraging the stupid habit of constantly licking his lips, getting them all chapped which is not fucking sexy, not copacetic to the whole “I’m a young adult in the big wild oyster of the world” thing…

Jesus Christmas.

Despite the massive hots he has for the guy, he really shouldn't have done the whole "Call me if you get bored" thing, transparently flirting as crystal clear as a fancy whiskey glass, or even worse, showing he cared about how his holidays went.

Just because there's something sad about him that makes Eddie want to dig in and figure him out with his teeth. Just because he has his big eyes and pouty mouth and sure hands.

Just because whenever Eddie gets a smile out of him it's like the big guy in the sky decided to come down and personally award him with an angel's blessing.

And he can admit it, he was wrong. The jock stain doesn't lacquer Steve with a sparkling clean glaze. He's all ocean surface and the deepest water; coral and anglerfish and other fucked up things all live inside of him but some of them glow in the dark to get by and he thinks that maybe Steve does too.

He's got secrets obviously, but he's maybe the most sincere person Eddie's ever met.

Still.

He doesn't expect the call.

Even after the friendly not-flirting, the little touches to his hands, the way if he looked closely he could see the way Steve's cheeks were getting pink because Eddie was playing with his lip and not because of the chill in the air.

The jury's still out on if homosexuality is one of Steve's sad little secrets, but Eddie hopes it is because he's a traitor to himself.

His voice is all tinny on the shitty old phone and it should've been unpleasant but instead there was a laser light dance party going on in Eddie's stomach.

Steve wants to hang out. No transactions involved.

"So like, yeah… If you want, I'm free?"

It sounds like more than what it is, like Steve's offering up his naked chest and asking him to feast on it.

But Eddie doesn't want to rip him open.

Instead he stares at the edges of his own life, finds places to fit him in seamlessly. Places that would change forever with Steve’s presence even if they're just going to smoke a joint and lament about how winter's so different now that they're adults.

He cracks one of those edges open, and smiles into the phone.

"Yeah, come over, I made cookies. They're even edible."

#griefabyss69 writing #steddiemicroficfebruary #the hole story

[aizawas-dryeye]

➭even if it hurts (toji fushiguro)**

content: smut, trans masc/male!reader, puppy hybrid!reader, master/owner kink, anal, painal, possible transphobia(?hard to explain but its nothing horrific), pussy neglect, pet names (pup/puppy, good boy, little boy, bitch, mutt), toji nasty as hell, creampie, tail pulling, gaping, manipulation, breeding except not really, sadism

words: 2.3k

!!MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

cis people also go away 😤 /hj

toji caught himself a lil pet (this is not proofread in the slightest so bear with me ill prolly edit it in the future)

• • •

Toji is a somewhat confusing owner. He never lets you up on the furniture, locks you out of his room whenever he had a "guest" over, and very rarely plays with you. Well, that's not entirely true, but his idea of playtime was usually some variation of pushing you to your knees and shoving his cock down your throat, or pressing your cold puppy nose into his balls while he jerks off above you.

It was certainly a strange relationship, but you adore your owner, and are always seeking his attention.

"Not now, mutt," he mutters while he flicks through channels on the shitty TV in his apartment. You whine and nudge against his knee for the third time, your tail thumping sadly against the carpet.

Toji had been basically ignoring you since he came home not too long ago, muttering about how 'fucking exhausted' he was.

You prop up on your knees and paw at the fabric of his sweatpants.

"Wanna play, Owner," you whine, looking up at him with big, pleading eyes. He wouldn't even play fetch with you which is like, the easiest game ever. With a frustrated grunt, you pull yourself up and plop down on his lap, much to his surprise.

Toji raises his eyebrows at you and you internally panic, but a larger part of you wants to play, dammit! He never fucking plays with you no matter how many sticks or toys you spit out in front of him. He just grunts and nudges you away with his foot.

This time, he's staring straight at you with a bone-chilling expression. You half expect him to push you off of him and complain about getting fur all over the couch; instead, his hands grip your hips harshly. His expression doesn't even change when you yelp out. If anything it darkens.

"I had a rough fucking day, mutt. I don't need you humpin' my leg like a bitch in heat," he says, moving one hand to squeeze your chubby cheeks together.

Your face heats up with embarrassment. What does he mean by that? You're not a bitch, you're a good boy! And you would never do... that!

You squirm on his lap in an attempt to wiggle away but he just wraps his arm around you and keeps you there. A faint smirk crosses his lips.

"You wanna fuckin' play? Fine. Let's play."

Toji drags your hips forward so you rub against his bulge, chuckling a little when you whimper in surprise. You glance down at his crotch and back up at him, cocking your head in anticipation for what's to come.

He never plays with you like this either, chooses to use your mouth instead and leave you to your own devices afterwards. It doesn't hurt your feelings at all (lie), that's just something owners and puppies do, right? That's what Toji says anyway, and why shouldn't you trust him?

Suddenly, he rips your bottoms and underwear down just enough so he can freely knead your ass. "We're gonna play a new game. Just relax and let me show you," he explains. His fingers dig into your skin and spread your cheeks apart. The lewd act makes you yelp, face heating up even more. He drags you against his cock again and you feel it twitch beneath you.

"Good boy," he croons, tucking his face into your neck to bite at the sensitive skin there.

Before you can even fully enjoy the feeling of his sweatpants against your hardening clit, he stills your hips and shoves two thick fingers into your mouth. Your first instinct is to choke, but you will the feeling away in hopes of making your owner proud. Always need to make him proud. You suck and lick at his fingers like a desperate pup, whining around the digits at the attention he's giving you. Drool pours out of the corners of your mouth as you thoroughly coat his fingers in saliva.

Toji pulls his fingers away and you're honestly disappointed, until you feel him press the tips right against your ass.

Your pussy throbs like its begging him for mercy, but the throbbing frustration doesn't stop you from pushing back into his finger to pull him in deeper.

Toji laughs again, and the sound echoes in your cloudy head. You should feel even more embarrassed but all the new sensations completely tore down any shame you may have had.

He feels you clench around his fingertip so he pulls it out before shoving the entire digit back in, just to hear you squeal. He keeps up a steady rhythm that nearly has you drooling, eyes squeezed shut as you fall limp against his chest. Unable to do anything else but keep your hips curved back to feel more. You feel another slick finger push inside you and immediately tense up at the intrusion. It makes your sensitive little hole tighten up painfully and you whimper.

"Ease up, mutt," Toji grumbles, forcing the second finger past your tight rim. You squeak at the burn, but before long, you're panting and writhing against him once again. In a half-assed, stunted attempt, Toji rubs his free hand up and down your back to sooth you, surprised when it works. The second you let out a breath to relax, he resumes fucking his fingers into your hole.

"Atta boy," he says. The way his voice gravels makes your stomach flip, has your pussy drooling on his sweatpants in a way that makes him laugh. "Look at my pup getting all excited for a little ass-fucking."

The vulgarity of his words would normally scandalize you, but you find yourself nodding dumbly and mumbling against his chest. You're pretty sure you hear him say something else, but you can't focus as Toji pulls his sweats down and nestles his erection right between your asscheeks. It's hot and thick, this you know after being repeatedly face fucked, but you have no clue how it's going to fit down there.

"Paws up on the couch," he commands, helping you move so your feet are firmly planted on the cushion and you grip onto his shoulders for support. He fucks his hips up so his cock rocks against you, sliding between your slippery cunt. It feels like heaven, especially when the tip drags across your clit.

But Toji isn't interested enough to worry about your pleasure. Against your weak protests, he settles his wet cock right against your asshole so you can feel just how thick it is.

"Too big!" you whine, trying to push him back to your cunt again. "W-won't fit."

Toji lands a harsh slap on your ass and pushes his cock against your hole so it stretches you out ever so slightly.

"That's too fuckin' bad, pup," he tells you, teeth gritted.

And then he's pressing inside of you. His fingers stretched you out sure, but they were no help in preparing you for the real thing. The pressure is intense and your body wants to seize up at the sensation. But you want to prove that you’re a good boy so you just sink your nails into his skin and whine brokenly.

Toji must have picked up on your pained little noises because he presses his lips to  you ear to whisper about how It's gonna feel good soon, pup. You're gonna help Master unwind, yeah? That's what good boys are for. Made for this.

"Please touch," you beg, wiggling your hips in the most enticing way you know how, and it makes your master chuckle. He squeezes your thighs so tight they're sure to bruise the next day.

"You want my fingers on your little clit? No, no, pup. I'm the one in charge here. Little boys don't get to decide what happens. You wanna act like a real boy now, so I gotta fuck you like one," he grunts. He's determined to break you down, and mold you into a little cocksleeve that only he can fuck. That only responds to him.

"Can't spoil that little pussy or else you'll act out, right? Cocksluts don't make for good pets."

He sinks in deeper and you hiss. He's even gracious enough to let you get adjusted to his size, but eventually gets impatient after two or so minutes of slow, gentle grinding. His hands grip under your thighs to keep you upright as he slams his entire length into your ass punishingly.

"M-Master!" you choke out as your body about goes into shock at the brutal thrusts. He's so deep you swear you feel him in your stomach, and the full, burning feeling makes you wail. It doesn't stop your fluffy puppy tail from wagging wildly behind you.

"Too— ah! T-too much! Too much, Master, i-it hurts!"

Toji grunts, his balls tightening embarrassingly soon as he fucks up your insides. The pain etched on your cute little face only makes his blood pump harder. And the fucking pleading. He swears he's never heard anything sweeter.

"That's right, baby, it does hurt doesn't it? That's how you help me, you let me hurt you, right little boy?" he mutters. He squeezes your thighs tighter, loving how the skin squishes between his fingers.

You don't process anything after that. Your brain short circuits when you feel his cock throb inside of you, so you don't notice when Toji lifts you off of him. He presses you face down, ass up against the couch and digs his thumbs into your asscheeks to better slide his cock back in. The wet, squelching noise it makes sounds throughout the living room, giving Toji an unneeded boost to his ego.

You cry out, face covered in tears and snot, as he carves a spot out of your body for only him, making you choke on the thrusts. Something primal triggers in your brain as he bends you in half, and you let out a pathetic growl.

"P-please! Master breed, breed!" you babble out, nails now digging into the upholstery of the couch.

Toji grins wide, and grips your tail with a harsh yank. It spreads your hole even wider so he keeps a firm grip on it, no matter the cries you let out.

"Pathetic little boy, begging me to breed this tight ass. Bet you don’t even know what that means, dumb pup," he says, voice mocking. A wave of degradation and shame washes over you, but it only makes you more desperate.

He can tell you're close by your fluttering hole, and there's no doubt in his mind that your pussy is clenching just as much. Your tail wags wildly against his stomach and he pulls it forward harder, growling at the way you cry.

"You close, already?" he taunts. "Maybe you are a little cockslut bitch. A little fucking and breeding and you're panting like I got you in heat."

His thrusts quicken instinctually when your hole clenches especially tight. You whine and whimper, thighs trembling beneath you as Toji abuses your entrance. The way his balls slap against your clit has you inching closer and closer to the edge until you snap.

The world goes blank and all you can do is moan and shake as Toji fucks you through your high, cocky laughter filling the room.

"Atta boy," he groans, slowing his thrusts to calm himself down. The way your ass flutters around him as you cum so beautifully nearly makes him shoot off like an excited teen. Your body is addictive and he intends on using it all up.

Your cunt throbs pathetically at the neglect. Toji is sure to bully you for cumming untouched and the thought makes you sniffle.

"Owner!" you sob as he picks up his pace. It feels like your little hole could split completely in half, the overstimulation makes you gasp and choke. You can't tell if what you're feeling is pleasure or pain, nor do you care.

It isn't long before Toji is moaning and growling louder, his thrusts getting sloppier as he gets closer to his own high. He grabs your waist and pushes your torso down so your back arches even more, until it makes your spine burn with resistance.

You hear him panting like a beast behind you, letting go of any resistance and just using your body like nothing more than a toy. He’s so caught up in your tight wet heat, that he doesn’t even hear your pathetic attempts at begging for mercy. You wanna be bred so bad? Then shut up and take it.

Toji grits his teeth so hard his jaw aches as his balls tighten up. His cock throbs hard inside you before filling you to the brim with hot, sticky cum. The warm sensation fills your belly and has you mewling with a mix of contentment and relief that his brutal thrusts have finally slowed.

His cum gushes out of you when he pulls away and he’s quick to scoop it up and push it back inside your gaping hole.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles when you hiss from overstimulation. “Can’t expect to get bred if you keep pushin’ my cum out.”

He laughs mockingly when your ears perk up at that. Such a dumb puppy you are.

Toji pulls his sweatpants back up, but makes a point of keeping you bare and on your knees. He says something about wanting easy access, and if you really want his kids he’s gonna have to use you like that everyday until his seed takes. It all makes perfect sense to you, so you nod and bury your face into the couch cushions. Sleep comes surprisingly easy, what with the pinching pain in your ass and hips, and you’re more than ready to go again in the morning. Anything to have a belly full of Toji’s babies.

• • •

#girl this is so rushed but i simply had to get it out into the open #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #toji fushiguro smut #trans masc reader #trans male reader

[cairavende]

Worm Arc 12 thoughts:

Brian needs to watch the Barbie movie holy shit! (I understand the story takes place in 2011 and the movie doesn't exist there)

Just like, fuck get off Taylor's back. She is playing it too safe but also being too aggressive. Moving too fast but also not being aggressive enough! AHHHHHHHH!

Seriously, nearly every time Brian showed up in this arc I was yelling at him. Dude. Just back off.

Skitter fucking just, killing thousands of rats in a few minutes is absolutely terrifying. God I love her.

Hookwolf is a dick. I can't believe everyone else went along with him and gave the Travelers and the Undersiders shitty choices like that. I mean that's not true, I can believe it I'm just mad.

I legit forgot Imp existed until Tattletale mentioned leaving her at the meeting as a spy. I love how the way her power works combined with the writing style means she just disappears for the readers as well.

Loved seeing more of the Travelers and more Noelle. Excited to learn more about her (I don't have great feelings about her long term situation though).

Jack is such a fucking POSER oh my god!

He just. He thinks he's so cool. But he's not. Fucking "this is not an exit" reference and shit.

He is Tobey Maguire Spider-Man from Spider-Man 3. Just thinks he is the coolest shit. Everyone just has to accept it cause he got fancy knife powers.

Tattletale just fucking full confidence fucking with the Nine while standing right in front of them. She clearly knew it was high risk but she took it and she got results, spoiling Jacks plan with Cheri and shit.

That said, AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! MY BABY SOMEBODY HELP MY BABY! AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! (Ok she's not like, my baby, that's Taylor. But she's still my baby.)

LOOK AT MY FUCKING DAUGHTER! FUCKING LOOK AT HER! HOW MANY PEOPLE DID SHE SAVE FROM SHATTERBIRD? HUNDREDS? THOUSANDS? SHE IS AMAZING!

She fucking needs therapy though. Saves more people than anyone else could have and is mad because she didn't do enough. God damn Taylor love yourself!

Danny is fine. Besides, he had warning so any injures are basically his fault. Git gud Danny. (Ok look that's a little unfair, but he messed up pretty bad with raising my daughter so I'm allowed to be a little unfair to him I think.)

And look at my daughter again! She goes and organizes people to help the wounded. Takes charge. Gets a cool butch lady that might never show up again to help. I hope she does show up again though.

AND THEN FUCKING MANNEQUIN! AAAAHHHHHH!!!!!

After he showed up I said "I don't know how the fuck she's gonna do it, but my daughter is gonna kick your ass". And then like a few paragraphs later I read "I have no idea how the fuck I’m going to do it but I’m going to make you regret that." This made me both happy - fun to say something and have Taylor say almost the same thing - and worried - cause when I said I didn't know how she was going to do it I kinda hoped she had a plan.

But then she fucking does it! She kicks his ass. She steals his arm. SHE RIPS HIS HEAD OFF! GOD DAMN! THAT'S MY FUCKING KID!

I do think she should hire the buff burly guy who helped her rip Mannequin's head off. He clearly has motivation and would be loyal. And maybe I want to see him more. For reasons.

But anyway she fucking wrecks Mannequin, makes him look like he lost a fight with a paint store. Just fucking clowned on him. She is so good.

Then the next day Brian comes in and fully focuses on how stupid it was to fight Mannequin, not really praising that she won or asking if she needs medical help. God damn bud!

But I loved how a fuck ton of people were like "Oh shit she beat Mannequin! I want to work for her." She's going to be so fucking famous soon.

Interlude 1 - Jack is a poser again. Sucks to be the Merchants, can't say I'll miss them. Jack trying to sound all clever with his carrot and sticks thing, but most of what he lists for the other Nine is really obvious. And he misses some stuff as well. Poser. I could lead the Nine better than him (not that I would lead the Nine, just that if I did I would be better than Jack).

Interlude 2 - God damn this is a doozy. Shit ton of Cauldron lore. Battery backstory. Assault backstory. I made a "now kith" joke when they fought for the very first time cause I didn't realize who they were yet. It was supposed to be a joke. I did not want them to end up together. They should not be together. Legend should not have allowed Assault to be on Battery's team. He was a bit of a dick for that. So much Cauldron lore though. I can't put it all here.

#Worm #Worm Web Serial #Parahumans #Cairavende reads Worm #The Slaughterhouse Nine #Taylor Hebert #Lisa Wilbourn #Mannequin getting clowned on #Jack Slash is a poser #Oh right I got to actually “see” Crawler for the first time. He's fucking terrifying. #Taylor you need to love yourself! #You are doing so fucking much and you keep saying it's not enough and act like you are failing cause you aren't a omnipotent god being! #Just breath! #You are so amazing #Please just let yourself feel amazing for 5 minutes. Please! #(Narrator voice: She will not.)

[pe0ple3ater]

@qsmutslut posted something that made me so hard to I had to write it immediately. It's currently 9:03 am. I feel like I'm going insane. This was so hot to write. Anyway! I hope you enjoy :)) I hope it's what you wanted

It's been a while since they've done this.

Pac would call it "clearing dungeons," but he's really not doing much on his end, Etoiles is ripping through the hoards of mobs and stepping back to let Pac get the loot. It's adorable how Etoiles is just here for the fight. Pac finds it sweet that Etoiles chooses him to spoil.

They're nearing the end, but Pac can tell that the adrenaline is unbearably buzzing under Etoiles' skin. Pac knows because he feels it often enough himself. Etoiles finishes off the boss in the final room and turns to Pac with a proud grin, nodding towards the chest.

"You take?" he asks, putting his sword away as Pac approaches him. Pac nods and giggles, opening the chest and digging through it. The loot is excellent; since the server reset, it's been a bitch to get materials. Pac is honestly really thankful that Etoiles is doing this with- for -him.

"Thank you so much, Etoiles, really, you're too generous," Pac says, looking up at the man from under his lashes. Etoiles smiles at him, pulling his hood off to clear his vision entirely.

Pac won't lie and say that his crush on Etoiles ever disappeared. He can't be blamed. Etoiles is a beautiful man. He's powerful, he's generous, he's funny. Watching him tear through the mobs, hearing his wild laugh bouncing off the walls, Pac is reminded why he fell for him in the first place. Etoiles is a shaken soda bottle, full of too much energy and pressure and ready to explode at any moment. Pac adores his power and the way he throws himself into everything full-heartedly.

Someone so kind, so wonderful, shouldn't go unthanked.

"Will you come to my house? Let me thank you?" Pac asks softly, reaching out to rest his hand on Etoiles' waist, making the man under him jolt. Pac watches the way his eyes widen and his lips part. It's not the first time they've slept together. Stories of how Etoiles acts in bed are enticing, and Pac is as greedy as Etoiles is giving.

"My bro, it's not necessary. Only if-" his voice trails off as Pac's hand slips under the edge of his armor, pressing against the thin shirt underneath "-only if you want," he finishes, voice dropping an octave and sending a shiver through Pac's spine.

"I do. You have been so helpful. I can't just let you leave after doing all this for me," Pac mumbles, smiling at Etoiles and pulling away. "Warp to my house, okay?" Pac says, and before Etoiles can argue, he pulls out his stone and warps away.

Pac goes inside, his house is shitty, but Etoiles isn't here to judge his decorating abilities. He's here to get fucked. Pac digs through his things until he finds his strap and harness. He hears the door open and smiles.

"Take your armor off, sit on the bed," Pac commands; he doesn't have to look to know that Etoiles is doing precisely what he said. Pac can hear the sound of removing armor, shuffling, and shifting clothes. Etoiles is so good; he's going to make him feel amazing. Pac steps into the next room to put the harness on and then grabs a length of rope. He returns to Etoiles and is pleased to see him sitting in just his undershirt and boxers, hands in his lap. He's so good.

Pac coos softly and walks over, straddling Etoiles' lap and pulling him in for a kiss. Etoiles' hands go to Pac's waist and run up and down his sides, affectionate even with Pac's tongue halfway down his throat. Pac likes that he doesn't try to fight for dominance; he follows Pac's lead. He tastes sweet, like healing potions and golden apples. Pac groans softly and rests his hands on Etoiles' chest. He pulls away from the kiss, and Etoiles is panting under him. Pac can feel the hardness of his dick pressed against his ass, and Pac thinks it's so fucking cute how worked up he gets just from kissing.

"Take your shirt off and lay back; I'm going to tie your hands," Pac mumbles, nipping at Etoiles' jaw. Etoiles nods and does as he's told. When Pac has him how he wants him, laid out on his knees, chest pressed against the bed, hands tied in front of him, naked, he takes a few minutes to admire. After all, Etoiles works so hard on his body. Pac's hands drag up his thighs, digging his nails in and scratching down the sensitive skin. Etoiles whines softly, dick twitching between his legs. Pac coos and leans forward, dragging his tongue against his hole in a broad swipe before pulling away and standing to get lube. The choked sound Etoiles makes his music to Pac's ears. He giggles and digs through his chest until he finds the well-used bottle of lube. He slicks up his fingers and returns to Etoiles.

Pac takes his time stretching Etoiles and listens to his little whimpers and groans, the way he moans Pac's name. Pac feels so powerful to have someone seen as the most powerful man on the server, squirming and whimpering with his hands. The idea makes heat curl in his stomach and dampen the space between his legs. He feels Mike's presence fill his head and laughs a little; of course, Mike is here. Etoiles is his favorite toy. He can take so much and still beg for more. Neither of them speaks as Pac pulls away and attaches the dildo to the harness, pressing it inside of himself and gasping softly.

Pac pushes inside of Etoiles in one mean thrust, and Etoiles chokes on his moan. He pulls at the binds around his wrists, and Pac feels a little hot at the way his muscles flex.

"You're so pretty, Etoiles, so good. You're so good to everyone. You need to be rewarded. Maybe I should call everyone here and let them say thank you," Pac purrs, fucking him hard and fast. Etoiles is already a mess under him, Pac's words making his moans kick up in pitch.

Pac manages to wring three orgasms out of Etoiles. The final one has him yelping Pac's name and pressing his face into the bed. He's got tears streaming down his cheeks, and when Pac looks, he sees there's nothing coming from his dick. A dry, painful orgasm. Etoiles is still gasping and shivering when Pac cums, nails digging into Etoiles hips and shivers wracking his spine. Etoiles is perfect through the whole thing, whining and crying but still and pliant.

Pac pulls out, unties Etoiles' hands, and pulls him against his chest.

"Thank you," Etoiles rasps out, pressing his face against Pac's chest and breathing through the pleasure rolling through his body.

#qsmpnsfw #eto!les #p@c #they're a ship I never understood but I GET IT NOW #eto!les and his whiny service sub self #entices me #sorry I will never write him as a top it's against my religion

[bungowife]

I really adore your ocs and I was hoping to know more about them a little mostly spunko and hokey, do you have any facts about any tiny facts about them at all?

OUGH I'm glad u asked that here I feel awkward typing paragraphs on IG for some reason.... They're for a comic idea I have called Feeding Frenzy I was gonna include a mini zine of it in my last store update but I couldn't finish it on time rip

It takes place in the early 80s because Spunko is based on 80s newave underground comix, design wise he's more specifically inspired by Zoo-Lou from Roachmill and Marvel's Slapstick and then Hokey is supposed to look like a faux Hanna-Barbera character

-They're married or sometimes just friends; whatever is most convenient for the plot because logic like that is Funnie

-Hokey assures everyone he's a beloved cartoon character but no one remembers his shitty cartoon show (I don't know if it's that noticeable I draw him with thicker outlines + no hatching so he looks more 2d than the other characters)

-The other parasite I've posted before (her name is Marzda) is the only real antagonist, the other characters are just people that Spunko royally pissed off

-^^^She's a villain because parasites also kill other parasites. They all have different unique abilities; Marzda can use her hair/ears as tentacles, Spunko doesn't seem to have any. I've a had a few friends who thought Spunko's ears were pigtails lol

-Parasites can only die from starvation. WIP but the comix have a lot of senseless cartoony gore so Spunko never dies from being brutally cut in half <3

-They own a defunct ice cream truck.. Spunko doesn't have a driver's license and Hokey probably needs a booster seat

-Spunko and Hokey live in an abandoned bunker in the sewers

-They met when Hokey fell off a truck taking him to the slaughterhouse and his stupid arse rolled into Spunko while he was trying to steal the door off of a cop car

-Neither of them really have hobbies (Hokey's only interest is being around Spunko) so they either watch tv or steal gas station hot dogs. Spunko is good at drawing but he never does it...He likes going to concerts after he ties Hokey to a bike rack outside the venue

-Parasites can shapeshift to lure humans. Spunko can too but he rarely does

-Hokey wasn't even the main character in his show, I still need to cleanup my drawings of the guy he was co-star to though. Fun fact Hokey's last name is Hogwash but he was always credited as "the other guy" in the cartoon lol

ALSO I swear this is Spunko's permanent design lmao I kept slightly tweaking stuff for awhile. This is Hokey's final color palette too I have a habit of making small changes to color palettes that aren't even noticeable

Here's a gift if you read the whole thing (blows u a kiss)

#oc

[ghostssweetgirl]

Jealousy

jealous! simon ghost riley x fem!reader (smut)

a/n: thank you for the love on my other posts!

thank you to the person who requested jealous ghost. 

minors, do not interact! 18+ only ! !

pairing: simon ghost riley x fem reader

tw: smut, dom ghost, jealous ghost, drunk reader (consensual), stalker-ish?, size kink, choking, little bit of name calling. um, boot humping? :/ type thing? idk, marking/slight blood, anal + aftercare (maybe not that good, sorry), reader's nickname is "bunny"

this is a long one 🫣 please like and share if you enjoy :)

(please don't repost w/o credit)

word count: 3.5k~

alternate version here

----------

It was a Friday night. Not just a regular Friday night, that Friday night. Bar night. Week's work was over, now time to unwind. After 56 hours of working a week, you convince yourself getting fucked up on the weekend is well deserved. You see a lot of shit being a nurse, but it doesn't mean it's easy. 

You put on a black lacey bodysuit with ripped blue jeans. Why not look good, too? Fuck it, you thought to yourself. Never know if you're gonna get lucky. Tidying up your messy hair, you leave it in its low pony with fringe on the sides. You smudge black eyeshadow around your lash line and put a sharp wing of black eyeliner on, smudging that as well, giving a siren eye type look, you put on black honey lip gloss as well. You looked good for just having worked 56 hours.

You smile entering the bar, walking straight to the bartender to order a fruity drink. Scanning the floor and tables, you search for your friend, Ghost. Usually he was here by now, but maybe he was late, or something came up. You shrug it off as you grab your drink and find a table to wait for your other friend, t/n <their name>. 

You scroll mindlessly through newsfeed on your phone, still waiting for your friends to show up. After 20 minutes, you wonder if anyone's even coming. T/n isn't answering your calls or texts, and you have no way of contacting Ghost. You can still have fun by yourself, but it still weighs heavily on your mind if they will ever show up. 

--

Ghost

Y/n didn't notice the pair of eyes staring at her from across the room, in a dark corner. Ghost. He's been here the whole time but wanted to see what she would do if she didn't think he was here. He knows it may be wrong, creepy even. They aren't actually that close and yet, he's found himself having some sort of feelings for her and he can't deny the fact he finds her attractive. He's noticed her frantically looking around, worry shown on her face looking for him and probably her friend, t/n. He enjoys watching them crack each other up when they're drunk. Laughing until they cry, grabbing each other for leverage when they can't walk straight.

Looks like it's just you and me, bunny, he thinks to himself, using the nickname he specifically uses for you. 

His eyes scan your body thoroughly, taking in the curves squeezed by your body suit, your soft skin behind mesh material in a cute little pattern. The way he knew you struggled putting those tight jeans on, ripping at the flesh of your thighs, cupping your ass perfectly. 

-- 

You down 3 drinks, feeling a good buzz ease its way through your body, relaxing you from all the stress you went through working 14-hour shifts a day. No replies, no one familiar walking through that door, you need to stand up. You walk closer to the music and lean on a pole, secretly swaying your hips to the beat. 

A random guy awkwardly dances his way to you, struggling to think about what to say, he decides to keep telling you the shittiest jokes you've ever heard. So shitty, in fact, it made you laugh at his attempts. You give him forced, but awkward, smile - hoping he'd take the hint and go away. But he simply didn't. You kept your attention glued to your phone, though. Hoping for a text from someone, something. 

After a few minutes, you finally shoo him away, politely. Needing more drink after losing your buzz to some loser, you bought yourself a few whiskey shots. While sitting at the bar, a decent-looking guy grabs your attention. He actually pulls a good pick-up line, causing you to giggle and hold your hand out to grab his arm. Feeling his bicep, you exclaim, "Oh, wow! You got muscles," you smirk. 

--

Ghost

Watching you with this guy... it drove him mad seeing you giggling at this dude's advances and grabbing this guy's bicep. Ghost fucking knew he had better and more muscle than this guy - and he knew you knew it too. 

Though he still watches, his skin feels like its burning, this feeling - unknown - is causing him to feel uncontrollable anger, frustration, possessiveness. Yeah, he liked to imagine himself thrusting in you while he fucked his fist, and he would always pay attention to everything you do, the way your face contorts according to which emotion, he has studied you like a book. He wished you were giggling like that at his jokes, and smirking at him like that. This fuckin' guy, he thought to himself. 

He had to think of a plan to get you away from this guy, and to show you that you're his and his only.

--

You're feeling warm, happy, and flirty. Finally, your mind wasn't set on your missing friends and where they were. That was until...

Your eyes shoot at something moving in the corner of your eyes, behind the guy in front of you. Your eyes widen as you notice who it is. Before you even speak, he grabs you by your arm, forcibly leading you to the direction of the bathroom. 

"We need to talk," he roughly spoke. He sounded bothered by something, he just walked in, and you didn't even get a chance to say hi!

"Gh-Simon! What are you doing?!" you whisper loudly, concerned about why the fuck he's acting like this. Shoulders moving up and down as he breathes loudly and... angrily? You couldn't really tell. "What's going on?"

No response, just angry grunts. He opens the door to the unisex restroom - surprisingly clean, for a bar bathroom. Shutting it and locking it behind you, you gulp as he pins you against the wall, one arm resting above your head clenched in a fist.

Your breath fastens as you're getting scared, never seeing this side of Simon. You didn't think he'd ever hurt you, lash out on you, so this is a very big "what the fuck did I do?" moment. 

You break the silence of his threatening eyes staring into your soul.

"Simon! What the fuck is this about?" you softly scold him. 

"You know what, y/n. The way you were flirting with that fuckin' guy," he sneered. 

"What?! Si-"

"Ghost," he corrected you.

"Ghost! I-Why is that a problem? Me flirting with someone? I'm a grown fucking woman, and you don't own me!" you try to break free from his grasp, but there's no use fighting back, he's much bigger and stronger than you.

"You got one thing wrong, sweetheart. You do belong with me. You just didn't fuckin' know it yet, huh?" he leaned his head closer to yours, leaving little space - lips almost touching.

Shocked, unaware of what to even say. "I'm sorry, do I?" getting a little defensive, but also trying to get him to admit if he has feelings for you. You couldn't deny that you were attracted to him, but you didn't expect or think he'd feel the same way. You didn't feel that he was making any attempt to show you, until now. The sudden possessiveness causes a warm feeling to run through your body. 

Taking one hand, pinching your chin to make direct eye contact with him, he nodded. "Yes, y/n... Bloody hell, you didn't notice I've liked yo?" rubbing your jawline, teasing your lips with his balaclava, his hand moves slightly down to choke you.

Whimpering, brows tilting, you look up to him with your innocent little e/c <eye color> eyes, breath slow, but he can tell you're enjoying this. Wetness seeps between your puffy cunt lips, definitely soaking your bodysuit. You weakly shake your head while soundlessly mouthing no, I didn't! I'm sorry. Eyes scrunching close, tears falling from the side. His grip on your neck loosens, allowing you to breath, catching your breath. 

While his hands firmly grasp your hips, your arms are finally free. You snake your arms up his chest to around his neck while he rests his forehead on yours, steadying his breathing.

"Y/n... I've liked you for a long time. Dunno how you didn't notice," soft words coming out of his mouth was not something you'd expect him to say, but you still appreciated the honesty and was happy you could act upon your feelings as well. 

"I've liked you, too, Ghost," you smile at him, but hide your face so he doesn't see your red cheeks. His dominance turned you on, the fact that he was jealous turned you on - made you wet, clit pulsing. 

"Were you... jealous?"  head tilted to the side; you smirk as you tease him.

Your newfound confidence disappears as his hand finds your neck again, rough fingers on either side, feeling your pulse beat hard. "Shut. The. Fuck. Up."

Soon, he puts a knee between your thighs, finally letting your aching core find some relief in the new pressure added - something to grind on. Your attempt to moan was pitiful, but still your hips bucked against his knee, the crease of your jeans helping you please yourself. 

"Oh, bunny," he coos. "Everyone is going to know what and who did this to you by the time I'm done."

You nod eagerly, not fully processing what he said, you just want him stuffed inside you. He turns you around with your face pressed against the wall, back arched - inviting him. His strong and tattooed arm still choking you firmly, but enough to be pleasurable, holding you in place. 

His other hands grasp onto your breasts firmly, squeezing the fat of them, letting his fingers pinch your tender and sensitive nipples, getting those sweet little moans out of you in which he loves. Your mind leaping to thoughts of Simon, the ghost, Riley getting jealous over you flirting with some random guy you really didn't care about, how long has it been since he's gained these possessive feelings over you? The thoughts cause you to giggle, though you abruptly stop as a sharp pain vibrates against your ass. 

"What's funny, sweetheart? Hmm?" he asks.

You turn your head as much as possible to make eye contact with his masked face. Biting your lip, "Knowing that you got a little jealous is cute, Simon. Maybe I should flirt with other men if this is the result..."

He breaths in quick, "Yeah, and you're not going to like the punishment, darling. I promise you that, bunny."  His voice deepens as he leans into your ear, reaching around and unbuttoning your jeans. 

"Is that right?" you tease him further. 

"Mmm, and this is only the first time, so I'm gonna be gentle with you now, but princess... I must warn you," he bites your ear. "I don't share. Either way, I'm going to fuck you so good, that no other man can please you like I can. Your pussy will be molded to the shape of my cock, y/n, whether you want it to or not." 

His cock is painfully hard underneath his pants. He's just now worked you out of your jeans, leaving you in the bodysuit which buttons by your slit. No underwear underneath, you know you've soaked your bodysuit. His hand unbuttons your bodysuit, fingers grazing past your heat making you shudder. 

Feeling angry that you're threatening to flirt with more guys in front of him, he furiously rubs your clit back and forth with a flat hand. Shrieking out in pleasure, automatically overstimulated, trying to run away - but his other hand is now hugging you to his, underneath your breasts. You can hear the squishy sounds of your wetness as he's relentlessly going in circles now, fingers pinching your clit between them. Head lolling back onto his shoulder, he forces one finger in, earning a deeper moan from you while your nails dig into his forearm. Scissoring into you roughly, more wetness pools out. 

"Simon!" 

"Yesss, say my fucking name, just like that. You're mine, bunny, you understand me?" 

"Yes, yes, yes. I'm yours! Fuck!"

His fingers disappear as you approach your orgasm. You huff in annoyance, disbelief.

"You're not cumming unless it's from my cock, bunny~, " he smirks as he lifts his mask right above his nose, revealing his light brown stubble, toned jawline and pretty pink lips.

You didn't know how much you liked your nickname from Simon until you heard it coming from his lips like this. The venom in his tone, passion behind his actions tonight. Turning to face him, you see him unbuckling his belt, then undoing his pants revealing his thick, long erection under his boxers, head peeking well out the hem. Instinctively, you go to get down on your knees - slowly. Your knees hit harder than expected underneath you as Simon grabbed your shoulders and forced you down to your knees in front of him. 

He tilts his head as he glares at you. "Well, be a good bunny for me and maybe I won't have to be too rough on you tonight, yeah?"

You look up at him with half-lidded eyes, nodding your head. You grab his boxers and pull them down, letting your fingers explore his big and muscular thighs. You kitten lick up his thick shaft, tasting the sweet but salty flavor of him. Kissing and sucking the head, your hand wrapped around the base of his cock. He groans as his chest rises as he breathes faster. 

Your vagina feels a weird but hard sensation. You look down and see he has positioned his boot underneath you. Jesus fucking Christ, you think to yourself. Still sucking, getting his whole cock wet to the best of your ability, he groans out.

"Hump it."

You hesitate, but you listen and grind against his boot. Wetness coating the hardness of the leather material, making your moans vibrate against his cock. 

"What a fucking disgusting slut."

He's now holding both sides of your head, fucking into your face. Giving you all you can take and more. The pleasure you feel from both his boot underneath you and hearing him moan - almost in a submissive-tone, making your knees even weaker than they are. You almost forget that you need to breathe, so you breathe in short breaths through your nose - as much as you can. 

Again, as soon as you're about to reach your climax, he pulls you up. Tears in your eyes from not being able to breath, your gasps for air. He loves how torn up you are already. And this was only the beginning. His goal was to break you - ruin you - for him and only him. Rewire your brain to crave only his touch. 

He kisses you like a starved man, biting your lip so hard that you bleed. He sucks your blood as he backs you into the cold wall, hands dominating your body, squeezing the meat of your ass, scratching your back, groping your tits. He kisses down your neck, sucking hard in sensitive spots leaving a purple bruise, leading down to your tits - biting them - leaving his teeth marks indented in your skin. 

Leaning up, towering over you again, he forces you around. Taking in the view of your round ass, he slaps his cock between your ass cheeks. Sliding it up and down your slit, gathering your juices on his cock, he teases your entrance. He reaches around and puts his thumb in your mouth in which you greedily take, sucking and moaning against it as he thrusts into you slowly, inch by inch. Stretching your cunt to the max, your eyes squeeze closed, trying to adjust to his size. 

He loudly groans as he feels your gummy walls squeeze tightly against his cock. You finally take him to the hilt, tip kissing past your cervix and let out the sexiest moan he could ever hear come out of your mouth. 

Holy fuck, Simon.

I know, bunny. You're doing so well.

The praise. He's self-aware of his size and that he's pleasing you. 

He's taking you in slow, long, hard strokes. Each thrust, you moan and shake. Wetness glistening his cock each time he pulls out to the tip, he admires the arousal you have spilled on him. 

"You ever going to flirt with a guy again? Hmm, bunny?" he's really using your nickname against you. Now every time he says it outside of this will remind you of him fucking you stupid, dominating and marking you. 

"No! No, no, no, no, no..." you repeat, thoughtlessly. You don't know a lot of words right now, you're getting your brains fucked out, you're focused on his assault on your cervix, fucking you into a life-changing orgasm. This one was different. Felt better than any other orgasm you've had before. Made you question if you were even orgasming before properly in the first place.

Your cum spills out all sides of his cock, coating in it transparent-white stickiness, a natural lube for him to fuck into you even harder, faster, deeper.  

"You. Belong. To. Me." he grunted between deep, hard thrusts. 

He gets a sick idea in his mind and goes with it. He pulls out, causing your pussy to clench around nothing. "I'm going to fuck your ass. Is that okay, princess?"

What a gentleman. He's asking before he does it anyway, but cute, you think to yourself. Nodding yes, you look back at him, biting your lip. He's fucked you out already, your first orgasm felt like 10 orgasms at once - euphoric. 

"Good. I was going to do it anyway."

He spits on your ass and gathers some wetness on the tip of the flushed tip of his cock. Throbbing, he circles around your asshole. He groans as he barely teases the tip into it, how you tense up, reaching behind him to grab something - he offers his hand. Reenforcing his footing, he thrusts deeper, being gentle as you mewled through your soft lips. 

Burying himself to the hilt, you both moan deeply in unison. 

"Good girl," he praises as he slightly fastens his pace. "This ass is mine, too, right bunny?"

"Yes! I'm all yours~," you assure him, offering your whole body to him right there, right then - fully submitting - you didn't care. 

"Mmm," he grunts, thrusts getting sloppier. His free hand reaches around to stimulate your clit, pleased with the fact you're soaked even from him fucking you anally. Moans erupting breathlessly through your mouth, he's fed his ego in knowing he could and would be the one to break you, corrupt you, mold you to crave his cock and only him - rotting your brain with perverted thoughts of him. "I'm gonna cum in this ass, bunny."

He bottoms out hard as his cum fills you up, leaking out of your hole, clenching around nothing after he pulled his softening cock out. "Keep me in there, too. Or I'll have to punish you, again."

He buttons up your bodysuit for you helping you pull your jeans up. Loving the way your ass struggled to be contained. Your legs threaten to fail you and he helps you sit down on the bench so he can redress himself. 

Helping you walk out the bathroom as you stumble and your legs shake uncontrollably, he walks you to his car to take you to his place. You fell unconscious, tired from being drunk, exhausted after the sex. 

You wake up in the middle of the night to Simon bringing you water and y/f/m <your favorite meal>. Not realizing you were wearing his large sweatpants and oversized hoody; you assume he helped you change... and cleaned you up. How sweet, you think to yourself as you smile, realizing you have a headache after last night, from all the alcohol you consumed. As you hydrate yourself, Simon's hand caresses your thigh, and he looks at you lovingly. Caringly. 

"Thank you," you look at him, smiling while your face is full of food. He thinks it's cute. 

"I'm going to get a bath ready for you, bunny," he softly spoke as he got up, disappearing into the bathroom. 

You're honestly impressed that he's even doing this for you. Feeling accomplished with yourself, but also feeling dumb for not realizing you could have had this sooner if you had realized his feelings but also can't fully blame yourself because you... you don't know him that well. Even then, in this moment, it feels... warm and kind, genuine. 

He massages you in the bath, lovingly kisses each bruise he caused, washes your hair, your body. Fully relaxing you. He dries you off tenderly and carefully. Still sore, you're able to make it to the bed. Wearing a clean set of Simon's clothes, you cuddle under the blanket together and soon fall asleep on his chest, cherishing the sound of his heartbeat. 

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon riley #cod ghost #cod mwii #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley headcanons #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost mw2 #captain john price #john soap mactavish #ghost x soap #soap mctavish #task force 141 #ghost headcanons #ghost cod #cod modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #simon riley imagine

[anidiotwithfanfiction]

An excerpt from a Nickles fic I'm scraping.

I'm still writing one, this just isn't what I want for it.

Warning for very brief gore

A scream rips through the room, the sound sending a shiver up the singers spine.

He's used to blood and guts.

Gore and viscera.

It's a casual, horrific delight he's grown numb to.

It's like chaos seems to follow him.

Ever in his shadows, just a step behind.

It's strange, how seldom shock comes to him.

But as the pretty little redhead on screen gets ripped to shreds, something in him stirs.

The fear in those vivid green eyes. Her flushed freckled cheeks splattered with crimson.

And it isn't real. It's just some shitty movie banned in just about every country for 'graphic material'. The plot's not even that engaging.

But Nathan, he's really connected with this character.

She's sloppy, abrasive, sexy and witty. She hot, man.

The ideal girl really, even if she makes for a shit protagonist. Not meant to appeal, not meant to connect with the audience. You're supposed to feel some kind of catharsis as she's slain, that's what the critics say at least. But as white knuckles grip a little tighter at the cushioned arm rest, all Nathan can process is this sort of profound grief.

He didn't want her to die.

The credits roll, the rest of the band shuffles to their feet. Murderface snoring obnoxiously. At least that was better than the first half of the movie, in which he had spent it interrupting every five second to say how lame it was. Skwisgaar stretched, and it wasn't hard to see the way Tokis eyes immediately glanced down to the patch of flesh revealed as his shirt rode up. The Norwegian's face flushing red.

And Nathan was a bit slow. He could be dense at times.

But everyone excluding the pair noticed how head over heels the two were for each other.

It made him want to cringe. He hoped if he ever fell to the same fate someone would give him the courtesy to at least smack him out of it.

But despite how much the band has hinted to the two their obvious feelings for one another, they never seemed to get it. Like to love or be loved was so out of the realm of possibility for either, that the concept simply didn't exist to them.

Cold digits glide atop his hand. Realizing he's still clawing at the poor seat, he relinquishes his grasp.

Looking over, those friendly green eyes look through him. He doesn't have to say anything, Nathan knows what that look means.

"It's nothing" he mumbles, standing up with the rest. Pickles follows him, his hand sliding down to the small of the singers back. He hides it, not that he needs to. With Murderface asleep and Skwisgaar and Toki in the same room as one another, they might as well be halfway across the country.

Red dreads brush against his shoulder, a shudder running through him. Barely above a whisper the drummer asks

"Drinks?"

He pulls back, and Nathan turns a bit too quick. Their faces close. He brushes off the jump in his stomach, it can be nerve wracking. He's lived so much of his life isolated. Being around others like this would always be new to him. It was an even greater leap to get accustomed to Pickles. The guy was just so touchy. He's like that with everyone. As though he's starved for the slightest bit of physical contact.

Nathan shakes his head, shelving those thoughts. It's small enough to go unnoticed, even under that perplexing glare.

"Hell yes" he smiles.

"What'd ya think of tha movie?" The red head asks before taking a puff of the blunt. They've shuffled off to his room, leaving the others to themselves.

"Was pretty shitty. I mean, the plot made no sense"

Pickles chuckles as he passes the bud.

"Dood I know, like, why'd they have that five minute shot of tha fucking church that literally never came up again?"

"Who the fuck picked the movie this week?"

"I think it was Skwisgaar, somethin bout tha gore being really good"

Nathan's stomach churns. It was a little too good.

"That chick was hot though" it slips. It's not like it's something they avoid talking about, hot bitches come up pretty often in this lifestyle. But as of late, he's done his best to avoid the topic around his drummer.

He can't put his finger on it, but the conversation always steers... somewhere else.

"Which one? The brunette chick? She was okay" he hits a bong at his bedside. The singer jolts a bit, quickly taking a puff of the blunt before passing it back.

He watches as clouds of white pour elegantly from those plump pink lips.

"No, I mean yeah I'd do her-"

There's a glint in those green eyes as Pickels cuts him off

"The redhead" the tip of his tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth, prominent canines pressing against it.

"Seems about right" he teases.

"She was hot dude"

"I think yew've just got a thing for redheads"

"I've got a thing for women, okay" the singer refutes. "Hot, sexy women."

The drummer rolls his eyes "Hey nobody's objecting ta that" he raises his shot glass, with a heavy handed pour of scotch. Nathan looks down, not surprised to see the same awaiting him in the drummers other hand.

He takes it, rough hands lingering a moment too long.

They clink their glasses and throw the shots back.

Bottles are scattered across the room by now, a deadly mix for your average Joe. But Nathan's still got his wits about him.

For the most part, anyways.

Pickles has been doing double time, it's impossible to keep up with the guy, and the singer gave up a while ago. No one can out drink him, and back when he used to try... well things didn't end up so well.

But that was many years and many E.R visits ago. Now the singer knows his limit. Not that he adheres to it, but he knows.

And on the fourth bottle of bourbon, he's quickly approaching it.

Between the liquor and the weed, he's struggling to stay upright. Resigning himself to sprawling out on the drummers bed. It's comfortable, even if the decor in here screams '80s rockstar'.

Pickles passes him the joint, how weed always magically appears in the guys hand, still evades the singer.

He pulls slow, feeling the smoke clamber down his throat. His lungs expanding, filling with the intoxicant. The hum of the t.v quiets, the shitty sitcom they've got playing fades into the background. The drumming of the singers heart comes into focus.

It's soothing, a steady beat comforting him as he tunes the world out.

He's fucked up.

He was shitfaced five drinks ago, green out of his mind three joints back.

It wasn't something he was unaccustomed to.

But shit, this was intense.

Probably the strain, or maybe even the Vodka, but right now, he was out of it.

A cold hand taps on his shoulder, and his eyes dart to the redhead. Those pretty lips are moving, but he's not taking in a whisper of it.

The freckled hand is back, snapping in front of his eyes. He blinks, hard and slow. Tries a little harder to listen.

"Are ya deaf?"

"Huh?" Glazed over greens match the drummers, as Nathan grounds himself a bit.

"I said are ya fuckin deaf, jeez dood" he seems so exacerbated.

"No... no." He shakes his head, scooting closer to where the drummer lies beside him.

"Just fucked up is all" he manages, slurring only half of his words.

He can't help as his head falls to the redheads shoulder. Too far gone to notice the way the man jolts. Chilly bare arms wrap around his frame, pulling him closer.

"Cahm here, let mama Pickles take care a' ya"

He nuzzles his face against the worn black fabric of the drummers shirt. His cheeks brushing against flushed skin.

"Soft..." He mumbles, more to himself than the room.

And that icy hand is gripping his waist just a bit tighter, pulling him in. They're pressed together now, Nathan cradling the drummer, his cool flesh like the cold side of a pillow. Refreshing, calming, intoxicating.

"Mm just gonna take a nap"

"Yew do that buddy" he can hear the smile in his voice.

"So fucking comfortable" he mutters, burying his face into the drummers chest. Breathing in that sweaty smoke stained musk. His ear propped to his chest, he listens to the drummers heartbeat. The quick pace soothing, as he drifts off.

#metalocalypse #dethklok #nickles #nathan explosion #pickles the drummer #i dont hate this #i just really want to write a soul crushing sliw burn for these two #and this went a little too quick