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[styledby]

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[antisocialclubs-stuff]

anti social club t shirtsare excellent for a variety of situations to this combination, including resting at home, running errands, and even heading out to a casual gathering. 

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[the-dixon-effect]

The way back home

summary: While out looking for Sophia, Y/N is attacked in the woods by a group of men. After managing to fight them off, she heads towards the farm and is noticeably... changed.

word count: 1.5k

pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader

warnings: blood, gore, weapons, fainting, usual twd stuff

Your ears were ringing and your vision blurred. Four bodies lay on the ground in a formation that was anything but neat. From head to toe, you were covered in a thick layer of red. Unbeknownst to you, who stood motionless in a bloody trance, you could've easily been mistaken for a character in a cheap horror movie.

You blinked, once, twice. What the hell just happened? You inspected the nightmarish scene and suddenly it was coming back. You had been searching for Carol's little girl... what was her name? Sophia, yes. The last thing you remembered was a dirty hand covering your mouth before you reached for your knife... and the rest was a blur. Upon closer inspection, it became clear that you shot two of the guys with your short-range pistol, one in the head and one in the neck. You scrambled for your knife, which should've been tucked away in its holster, but instead, you spotted it plunged deep into the skull of one of the sickos who came at you. There was a single body left. The largest of the four men bore a filthy grey t-shirt, camo pants and combat boots. You rolled his limp body over to discover a big pool of dark red blood. You had... you had slashed his neck open. Suddenly you felt a pit in your stomach rise to your mouth and- you were about to be sick.

After expelling the only energy you had left in your body, you realised at once what that familiar growling meant, coming from a few metres away. Shit, you thought, you had to get out of here now before the men you killed start trying to kill you again, in a much more gruesome way.

You ran and ran, and could only hope you were going in the right direction. Collapsing beneath a tree, you glanced at your clothes and noticed your loose white tank top was stained completely red. After a little while the adrenaline wore off, and your stomach hurt like hell. Lifting up your shirt, it revealed a nasty cut from one end of your torso to the other. Immediately, the pain spread throughout your whole body and the excessive bleeding was almost unbearable. One of the guys must have slashed at you with a knife in an attempt to get you off of them.

Your thoughts were fading away, and it was getting harder and harder not to pass out right there. Suddenly, you heard a faint voice in the distance.

"Sophia? Sophia!" You could barely hear the voice, let alone tell who it was. Hell, for a second you couldn't remember your own name. A man appeared in your sight, and you didn't know whether to be scared or thankful. Were you hallucinating? As he approached, you noticed that the man was wielding a crossbow... it was- it was Daryl.

"Y/N? Shit, Y/N! Can ya hear me?" you looked up at him, and he could tell just by looking that you could barely keep your eyes open. "Hey, hey, it's alrigh', it's alrigh'. I'm gon' get you back and Hershel's gonna fix you up, I promise."

Hearing Daryl's voice was like a lifeline. Setting down his crossbow on the ground, he helped you up and held you with your arm draped around his shoulder. As you headed back towards the Greene Farm, warm sunlight began to filter through the trees. It felt like your brain was moving at a quarter of the pace it should be, and the sight of the Greene house in the distance, though beautiful, felt like a million miles away as you and the archer trekked towards it.

"Y/N? Oh my God, Daryl, is she okay?" said Andrea as the two of you approached the house. You were a frightening sight to see, especially for certain members of the group that hadn't quite immersed themselves in this brutal apocalypse.

"Rick! She's got a- a nasty gash underneath her shirt. Hershel better take a look at it."

Right in that moment you collapsed on the ground, falling limply out of Daryl's strong arms. The tall grass of Hershel's pasture enveloped your body, and you could no longer hear the great commotion that was taking place. Despite the incredible amount of pain you were just in, sleep was heavenly.

First came a flurry of voices. Then, the white ceiling appeared and several blurred countenances around the room. Strangely, you couldn't remember a thing about how you got here.

"D-Daryl? Where's Daryl?" you asked, innocently. Suddenly, every face in the room turned to look at you. You were pale, very pale, yet you sat upright in the makeshift hospital bed resting on your forearms.

Following a sudden rush of people turning to surround your bedside, you blacked out again.

"Everyone, I would strongly appreciate it if we could give the girl some space," spoke Hershel, calmly.

"Ya think I could stay?" said Daryl.

"Alright, then. Just don't make a big fuss."

This time, you awoke to a cool breeze through the wide open window and noticed only two figures in the room. It looked like... Daryl and Hershel?

Hershel approached you and placed a hand on your forehead, and though you felt extremely hot and clammy, he seemed to deduce that you were going to be fine.

The door swung open and in entered Shane, Glenn and Hershel's youngest daughter, the blonde one... Beth. That was it.

A wave of confusion passed over you suddenly, as if, in a second, somebody has swiftly erased your memory. "Wh- Where am I? What are you doing here?" You sat upright once more and removed the rest of the covers from yourself. Your eyes were wide and a little bloodshot, and your mouth was shaped by a distinct frown.

"Y/N, Y/N, it's alright. Daryl tells me something happened out in the woods. I just need you to tell me the story. It's okay." said Shane, leaning into you.

"What story? What happened?" Tears began to fill your eyes as you spoke and it was like your whole body was consumed in a state of fright. Immediately, you began to hyperventilate as images of mutilated bodies clouded your mind.

"What's happening?" said Beth.

"She's in shock. Everybody out!" announced Hershel.

When you awoke later, you got out of the bed in the back room and entered the living room. Everyone was gathered around, seemingly waiting to find out what on earth had happened to you. Daryl relayed the story countless times to the likes of Dale, Rick, Shane and Maggie. Just like before, they all turned to face you as if you were some lost child, or a deer in headlights. Daryl captured your eyes and noticed how they seemed... different. The same cheerful, good-spirited girl suddenly appeared before him, pale and cold, and with a new thousand-yard stare that didn't go unnoticed by a single member of the group. If they didn't believe how harsh the new world was before, they certainly did now.

"Y/N, sit down," said Dale. His manner was kind yet you couldn't help but feel threatened by anyone who tried to communicate with you.

"Tell us what happened," spoke Rick.

"I- I don't remember..." you declared. Your legs were shaking and you held you face in your hands as you wracked your brain for anything, any trace of a memory of the event that occurred earlier that day.

Bodies.

How many bodies?

"There was... four. Four bodies. Which meant... four guys, I guess?" you looked up at this statement, this time receiving several pitiful looks from around the room.

Shane was about to speak when Rick raised his hand slightly, "Let her talk."

"I don't know- I don't know! There was... blood, there was so much blood," you began, trying to muster up anything you could. "Please can I go back to bed?" At this request, Daryl practically jumped up from his seat to help you and guided you back to the bedroom to rest.

A heated debate had broken out in the front room. How many more of these men are there? Are they dangerous? Is she even telling the truth? For some members, they feared the worst and assumed that this incident would be the first of many to come, involving a new threat; people.

(one day later, at dawn)

You sat with Daryl on the white porch, facing the sunset behind the trees. The trees, in fact, that the two of you had ventured out of the previous day. Although you hadn't known him long, you decided that you enjoyed his company most of all.

"You know, I think I'm going crazy, Daryl," you said, somewhat wistfully.

"Oh yeah, why's tha'?" he drawled.

"I was just walking 'round here, over in the woods. Saw some freak stumbling around. Went to look a little closer, and this sicko was dressed up like some kind of corpse! You know, fake blood and everything. Guess he was just trying to scare little kids or something."

#brandy writes #daryl dixon #twd angst #daryl dixon angst #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfic #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon x y/n

[billthedrake]

LITTLE BRO'S HOMECOMING

Joseph Murphy didn't even have to knock on the hotel door. He'd texted Kyle to get the room number and as he strode up to 1139 in the downtown Boston hotel, the door opened right up.

Kyle was dressed in his Marines cammies - either he hadn't had time to change since checking in or else he wanted to be in uniform for the older man. A big smile formed on the 21 year old's face. "Hey," he muttered as he stepped aside to let the beefy cop enter.

"Hey yeuself," Joe hissed in his thick New England accent as he stepped right up to the young Marine and placed his hands around the stud's waist, drawing him in.

Their kiss was hot. A tongue heavy, facing sucking kind of kiss. Officer Murphy didn't do finesse, and it turns out Kyle Smith was A-OK with that. It had been TOO long since they'd been together, or even seen each other. They'd had a conversation before Kyle's deployment about whether they were dating. The cop didn't feel comfortable with that, and Joe hadn't even reached out to the Marine over the last few months. It was only an instant reply that Kyle received when he said he was coming home that made him realize there was still a spark there.

More than a spark. Officer Murphy was pawing at the ridge of hard military cock in the camo pants. And Kyle was feeling up all the cop beef through the man's long-sleeve Pats T-shirt. THIS was the young man's type to a T. Some heft on his bones, thick muscle, a beer belly. It had been the body Kyle had been into since he first started jacking off. Joe reminded him of his middle school wrestling coach - and even, if he was honest, of his own father.

Officer Murphy was even a dyed-in-the-wool working class New Englander like Kyle's father, only more brash even.

Indeed, the booming voice came as he backed off. "How's my fuckin' parn stah doin?" the cop bellowed, fingers tracing the long ridge of Marine meat sticking up in the uniform.

"Holy fuck, I missed you, man," Kyle said with a big grin. Maybe that was too much to say, but he felt it.

"I bet ya did," Joe said as he crouched down, fingers already fumbling with the uniform. "I know how to take care of this bad boy."

The cop's fingers felt good as they undid the trousers. "Are we gonna wait?" Kyle asked. "I mean, we said..."

Already the cop's big mitt was on the young stud's boner, pulling it out and gently stroking it. "You got a couple in ya, Corporal," he growled. "Come on, Jesus, four months and ya gonna fuckin' blue ball me?"

Officer Murphy didn't give Kyle a chance to answer. The question was rhetorical anyway. Because already he was taking the thick, long tool into his mouth.

"Oh fuck... fuck yes," Kyle hissed as he felt the police officer's hot wet mouth go down on him. The cop sucked dick like he kissed. No finesse. But it was amazing, especially after no sex for the last four months.

The Marine didn't realize he was carrying around so much tension in his body, but as Joe blew him, he felt himself relax, his stance widening just a little and his hand placed gently on top of the man's medium-short hair. He'd experienced a Joe Murphy BJ in full Boston Police uniform. THAT had been incredible, but even now he loved looking down on the man's thick-set daddy bod, face getting redder as he bobbed up and down more quickly. Kyle was still in full uniform, for his part, and he suspected that was driving Joe wild.

"It's not gonna take me long," Kyle warned.

The cop spit out his cock. "Dont ya dare, buddy." He wiped the spit off his chin with the back of his hand and leaned back. Kyle loved that view of him, the way it showed off Officer Murphy's broad rounded shoulders and massive chest.

Kyle knew what the man meant. He actually didn't have a lot of experience with other men. He'd met Joe Murphy when he was still 18, still a senior in high school. But the sex was electric between them. Joe was such a deeply sexual man, and the cop's hunger for a younger top, a much younger top, fueled Kyle's own lust.

"On the bed, Officer," he hissed.

Joe broke into a huge grin. Standing up, he started undoing his jeans and kicking off his sneakers.

"Keep that fuckin' unifo'm on buddy," he growled.

Kyle nodded. "That's 'Corporal Smith' to you, Officer."

"All right, Corporal," Joe chuckled. "Don't hold back. Just go for it, OK?"

Kyle was getting lightheaded now, he was so horny. Especially seeing Murphy pull off that T and reveal that beefy daddy bod. His big brother had teased him once when he showed him a picture of his cop lover. "You a chaser, Kyle?" Brandon had laughed. Kyle stood his ground those. The beer belly on such a meaty frame did something for him. He liked having a lot of daddy to hold onto.

That lot of daddy was naked now and crawling onto one of the queen beds on all fours. Kyle got in place.

"Aw yeah, eat my hole, Corporal. Aw, fuck yeah... root around with that tongue buddy. Get up in daddy's ass. Oh, fucking nasty, buddy."

Kyle remembered the first time he rimmed Joe Murphy he was worried the man would get freaked out. But it was one of Kyle's favorite things to watch in porn, so he just went for it. As they say, history was made. He and Joe rarely had sex without some ass eating.

Still, both knew it wasn't going to be a long rim session. Their absence had been too long. Kyle leaned back up on his haunches and gave a light slap to the cop's surprisingly smooth rump. Leaning over, he pumped out a couple of squirts of lube, which he applied to his boner, and then to Joe's hole.

The cop wasn't exactly slutty, but he was wanton in taking taking cock. Spreading his legs and wiggling his ass some as Kyle fingered him. Then, as Joe felt that thick piece of Marine cock bore in, he hissed and did his best to relax.

"Easy, buddy... easy... I'm fuckin' tight... ya gotta open daddy back up for business OK?"

"Yeah," Kyle hissed. He didn't want to cum yet. He knew if he could get through the penetration he'd be good for a bit.

Joe's verbal streak quieted down as Kyle slowly penetrated the older man. Murphy had lied about his age when they first met on the app, but the cop was 50. Squarely middle aged. The young man sometimes wondered why he was wired for older men, men like Murphy. But now that he was boning Joe, he didn't feel the need to question, his heart and mind and cock knew this is what he wanted.

Finally his balls pressed against the man's ass.

"God, yes," the Marine hissed. THIS was what a homecoming should be.

"I can feel your uniform against me, Corporal," Joe said in a surprisingly quiet tone. "So very hot."

Kyle held the man's waist. The skin was hot to the touch. "I dreamed about doing this in the barracks," he hissed. "Even fantasized about banging the Master Sergeant."

That got a chuckle from Joe beneath him. "I bet ya did, buddy. Just as I've had the hots for the new rookie on the force. Fresh faced fucker."

Kyle pulled back and pushed back in. Not fast, not yet. But he could feel the cop's insides open up for him, some.

"Anyone else fucking you, Joe?" he asked, an edge to his voice.

The reply was quiet. "A couple, Kyle," the cop answered. "It gets lonely, you know."

"Yeah," Kyle said, sadly. He wished he was the only one. But they'd never had that conversation. This was probably not the time to have it. "Man, I wish we didn't live so far apart."

The next thrust was hard, real hard. It knocked the wind out of Joe a little, and if Kyle hadn't fucked the cop like this before he would have been concerned.

"Give me a sec," Joe finally hissed.

Kyle slowed his roll and watched as the man reached over for his own squirt of lube.

The Marine didn't need to be told to resume fucking. That's how it was between him and Joe. Perfect synchronization of needs. The minute he saw the man reach down to jerk his cock, Kyle started fucking hard. Jack hammer thrusts in and out of the man's now relaxed hole.

"That's it, stud... horse hung Marine gonna fuck my cop ass..."

"Fuckin' take it, Officer," he hissed. Getting into it.

With other men Kyle had fucked it wasn't like this. It was usually fucking for his own pleasure or for the bottom's. But he and Joe Murphy were on the same wavelength, the older man rapidly jerking while Kyle threw his strength into hard fucking the beefy daddy.

Just the sight of the man's bare back, strong and full, and the love handles and the way Joe's face turned redder when he was getting close to cumming. Kyle felt that light headed feeling again and knew the cum was already traveling up his piss tube, pumping out from his balls.

"Oh FUCK!" he whimpered.

"SHIT!" Joe grunted.

Their orgasm was simultaneous. Kyle's body clenched and held still as his dick continued to unload inside the man. It had actually taken a few times to talk Officer Murphy into barebacking, but now he couldn't imagine sex between the two any other way. This was just sex, and it was just the hormones talking, but Kyle was in love with the man.

He started to pull back, but he saw Joe's hand reach back, as if to stop him. "Don't, Kyle... stay in me for a while longer, OK?"

The Marine nodded and placed his hand softly on Joe's lower back, feeling up the clammy sweaty muscle. He wondered if his dick was going to go soft. It usually did after a cum like that, but being connected with the police officer meant it still felt rock hard.

***

Brandon Smith waited in the hotel bar, sipping his beer. He was always a little nervous waiting for Preston, but he was getting that pit-in-his-stomach now. Maybe this was a bad idea.

But it only took the sight of his sorta boyfriend in the mirror to brighten up. Preston Weldman cut the vision of a real executive, as tall as Brandon, and his figure looking fit in slacks and a sport coat. The gray temples were the icing on the cake, so to speak. Brandon felt an instant chub in his jeans.

"Hope you haven't been waiting long," the business exec said as he sidled up to the hunky 32-year-old. He placed a hand on Brandon's shoulder. Not obvious but the touch felt electric between the two men.

"No," Brandon shook his head. "Anyway, it's good people watching here," he said.

Preston smiled. "Scoping out the business daddies?" he whispered. He knew Brandon's type. It was how they'd met each other on an app when Brandon was back home visiting family. Leaning in more, he growled. "You're looking really good, Sergeant Smith."

Brandon's heart pounded. "SO good to see you, Press." That had been his nickname for the man. Then, his eyes sweeping up and down, something clicked. "You're not wearing your wedding ring?"

Preston shrugged. "You disappointed?" he joked. "The divorce isn't final but it feels like it, you know?"

Brandon nodded and with concern asked, "How you doing?"

"We'll talk about it later, OK? We have the whole weekend, right?"

Brandon smiled. Long distance was tough, and there was military life on top of that. But maybe that's what worked for this divorced hunk. He had his own busy career to deal with, and his kids, too. "Yeah. I have some stuff I wanna talk about too."

"Yeah?" Preston replied. "You wanna talk about it now, kiddo?"

Brandon shook his head. "I think the guys are up in the room waiting for us."

Preston's lust was visible on his face, even if he normally had that WASPy repressed thing going on. "Sure you're OK with this?"

Brandon laughed. "I was gonna ask you the same thing, Press." He stood up and set down some cash to pay for his beer. "It'll be way hot."

"You're bringing out my naughty side for sure." Preston was definitely in a good mood.

Brandon leaned in and whispered. "How do you think I feel? He's my brother." Then he pulled back and gave a wink to the man before grabbing his overnight bag. "Come on, let's go up."

Even on the elevator ride up, the two couldn't keep their eyes off each other. Preston still couldn't believe he'd scored a young man as hot as Brandon Smith. 6'3" ex-football jock, his body honed by years in the US Marine Corps. The 26-year-old was like a porn character come to life. The superstitious, or realist, part of Preston knew this affair was on borrowed time, that Brandon would move on. But he'd sure as hell enjoy the ride.

***

Joe had dozed off but the knock on the hotel room woke him up. He was naked in the damp, disheveled hotel bed. The kid had gone for seconds, all right, and the middle-aged cop felt well and truly fucked. Like, a sleepy, tired and satisfied level of truly fucked.

The man felt bad for telling Kyle about the hookups he'd had. But he didn't want to hold back from the young man. Besides, there had just been two men over the last few month. They hadn't meant a thing and certainly couldn't hold a candle to Kyle fuckin' Smith.

Another knock came. Louder.

"All right," Joe called out. "Coming!"

He jumped out of the bed and sauntered over to the door. He could hear the shower running, and realized Kyle was in there.

Brandon and Preston were surprised to see the door fling open to reveal the full nakedness of a thick-set 50-ish man they'd never met. Lightly furred front, soft dick dangling beneath.

"Come in, fellas," Joe said. "Kyle's in the shower." Unceremoniously he turned and let the men indoors.

It took a second for Joe to pick up on their reaction. "Why be shy, right?" he said in his thick accent. He flashed an impish smile. "I can cover up if it bothers you though."

"Guess you're right," Brandon said. He held out his hand. "I'm Brandon."

Joe took the hand in his own strong mitt and shook it. "Definitely see the family ressemblance."

"Joe," the cop said.

"Preston," the businessman said as he greeted the cop.

"Jesus what the fuck kind of name is Preston?" Joe quipped.

Brandon got angry. Protective and angry. "We can call this off," he said through gritted teeth.

"Call what off?" came Kyle's voice as he stepped out, towel wrapped around his waist.

Preston's eyes noticeably showed excitement. If he had to pick, he'd choose Brandon's body, but Kyle had a shorter, more compact build that was scrlpted with tight, rounded young muscle.

Kyle immediately picked up on the vibe. "Jesus, Joe. Did you shoot off your mouth again?"

The cop looked genuinely contrite. "Sorry fellas. Guess I'm shitty at first impressions. Preston," he said, turning to the other daddy in the group. "I'm sorry man. Really. That was a shitty thing to say."

"All right," he said in a clipped Yankee accent. "I guess we're not here on a date or anything," he joked.

Joe nodded. "Yeah, the Smith brothers are the stars of the weekend, right?"

Brandon looked at Kyle. "You guys already get started?" he asked his brother.

Kyle nodded. "Yeah, couldn't wait, sorry."

Brandon turned to look at his lover. "I wouldn't mind a little one-on-one time with Press first."

"Yeah, babe?" Preston asked. He wasn't sure how this scene would play out. But as much as he wanted to see Kyle in action, he was drawn to Brandon first and foremost.

The hunky marine pulled Preston closer to him, then guided his arms around the man's waist to draw him into a kiss. It was soft and sensual. Brandon Smith was SUCH an amazing kisser, and inspired Preston to give his best in return.

"We can give ya guys some space," Joe spoke up. Amused to see a version of what he and Kyle had just experienced.

"Yah," Brandon almost said. Only Press' hand gripped his arm.

"It's OK if they watch babe," he said. The older man had a playful look on his face. "I kind of want 'em to."

Brandon looked at Preston in amusement. This buttoned-down divorced dad had a way of surprising him. "OK, he said.

Kyle was still in his towel as he sat on the bed, feeling Joe settle in behind him. The cop's mitts felt good feeling up his ripped Marine muscles. If Kyle hadn't just fucked the man, twice, he'd be boning up fast.

"You OK with this, Kyle?" Brandon asked.

Kyle nodded. "Go for it, bro. It'll be hot to see you guys."

That was all the green light it took for Brandon and Preston. It was like it was just them, alone in the room, even as they were also aware of putting on a show. They slowly stripped each other and made out.

About the only thing to break the spell was the cop's outburst when Brandon removed Press's button-down shirt, revealing a DILF-y gym-toned body.

"Holy fucking shit, he's a frickin' magazine model."

The cop's loudmouth approach had rubbed him the wrong way, but now he enjoyed having Preston's amazing body recognized.

The lovers were soon naked and Brandon was reclining them down on the other bed. Kissing softly even as their bodies humped more urgently. They were matched in height, but Brandon had some more muscle on him, and Preston was feeling up every inch with his hands.

Soon the older man was parting his legs, letting Brandon's body find that spot between them. Their kissing grew more impassioned, until Brandon leaned up.

"Fuck you feel so good, Press," he sighed. "I love ya, man."

"Love you, too, Big B." This was the only thing that made Preston self conscious about having an audience. But he knew this was part of sex between him and Brandon. The emotional openness.

"I need to be inside you, Dad," Brandon hissed.

"Please," Preston said. "I need you, Son."

Joe felt Kyle's body tense in his arms. The cop was a pervy enough man that the dad-son play didn't phase him. But he sensed it hit differently for Kyle. This was his brother, talking about "Dad." Joe just held the 21-year-old tight against him and kissed the side of his neck.

"OK?" he whispered.

"Yeah," Kyle whispered back.

Then Joe felt Kyle's hand grip his forearm, pulling it down. Joe thought the kid was rejecting his embrace but instead Kyle guided Joe's hand lower, right to the towel, where there was a ridge of hard dick. The kid was turned on.

"Jesus, it's a like a Lifetime movie," Joe almost said, but restrained himself. Everything was so frickin sensuous between the other couple. Even the lubing of cocks and the fingering of Preston's hole. The man was glas Kyle was into more animalistic fucking. The kid always had been, even at 18.

At last the divorced exec lifted his toned legs, and Brandon gingerly positioned the ankles on his meaty shoulders. The two locked eyes, silently, lovingly.

And Brandon entered his daddy lover.

Preston winced at entry but after a second, his hands were on Brandon's muscle ass, coaxing him to push in further.

"Not gonna last long today, Dad," Brandon hissed. "You feel so fucking good."

"We got all weekend, Son," Press countered. Before Brandon he didn't enjoy bottoming. Hell, the times he fooled around with men he usually preferred getting head. But this Marine had a way of rocking his world, turning it upside down. Of making him want cock like this. "Fuck me. Fuck your father."

Brandon let out a low deep grunt and powered in. Slowly, sensually at first. God he was SO turned on. Being with Press, hearing that roleplay talk. But also know his little bro was watching. "I'm gonna go a little harder, sir," he hissed.

"Do it!" Press urged.

And like that came a serious of slow, rough thrusts.

"Yes!" the exec grunted. Only Brandon could make him love it like this, too. Hard, with a roughness to each inward push of that meaty cock. "Attaboy."

Brandon had a few trigger words and that was one of them. He knew orgasm was coming now. So he humped more excitedly, hard stokes working to get himself off with this perfect man's ass.

"Yeah, Dad," he hissed. "Gonna cum!"

He felt Press's hands caress his sides, encouraging him to give it up.

"UNNGH!" Brandon grunted and unloaded.

"Yes!" Press said excitedly. He loved watching his Big B cum, loved seeing that mix of youthful masculinity and almost childish need. Already he was stroking his dick to get his own nut.

Brandon took a second to come down from the high but when he did he started working his dick in and out of Press's warm hole. Fucking slowly but hard, the way Press liked it.

The older man wasn't a loud cummer, but Brandon knew how to read the signs. Sure enough. the middle-aged man's body clenched and white hot sperm flew out. Preston Weldman came a lot when he orgasmed.

Brandon pulled out and only then was self conscious that his brother and his brother's lover were looking on.

Kyle had a look that was clearly horny and maybe a little embarrassed. "Why don't we give you some space, Bro?" he said quietly.

The older brother rolled off Preston's body. "We freak you out, Kyle? I guess I should have warned you that we do the roleplay thing."

Joe spoke up. "Don't let the kid fool ya, he loved that shit."

"Jesus, Joe," Kyle objected. But the man was right.

Preston leaned up. He felt a strange fondness for Kyle, a dude he'd never met. "Kyle, it took me a while to get into it." He ran his hand up and down Brandon's strong back. "I don't know... your brother's a persuasive man."

"Eight inches is a lot of persuasion," Joe quipped. He'd just witness the other brother's endowment, and Brandon was as hung as Kyle, for sure.

"Joe, what the fuck?" Kyle pestered. But Brandon and Preston were smirking.

"Fuckin' Christ. What the fuck are we for? It's supposed to be a fun weekend, right?" He patted Kyle's chest affectionately and gave a soft, contrite kiss. "Come on, let's go get a pint and we can talk more at the pub." The cop pulled his meaty body back from his younger lovers and stepped off the bed. "Apparently we need to talk about 'ground rules' or some bullshit," he bellowed.

Brandon had to admit the policeman was growing on him.

#drakestories

[sillyrabbit81]

Curious

Prompt: Possessive & Rough, Mutual Masturbation from @martha-oi (x) Thank you!

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader

Word Count: Approx. 3.1k

Warnings: Smut, masturbation (m & f), fingering, thigh riding, pearl necklace... or pearl jewellery, I don't know, it is what it is, descriptions of body fluids, rough kissing and touching.

Authors Note: As always I need to thank my amazing mate and reader @nashibirne , your thoughtful and honest comments are always appreciated.

If this feels a bit rushed, thats because it is. I'm supposed to keep these around 500 words, but you know... Its Sy, I love him. I'm sorry, I hope its enjoyable anyway.

I'm sorry, but I barely had time to read over it, it was edited by me, on the fly there will be errors

Dividers by me.

Masterlist

Celebration Masterlist

The normally quiet Camp was full of men shouting insults, off-key singing and dirty r’n’b lyrics. Part of you wanted to join them, but you thought it wouldn’t be appropriate. Not only because you were the only woman on base, it was also because you were a journalist, and you knew that despite having access to all areas of the base and free reign to follow the team on any and all operations, in the end, you weren’t one of them.

Still, you are curious, it is in your nature. So you sneak down the hall and peek into the raucous room. The sight that greets you makes you smile. The men are dancing like no one was watching, a bottle of something being passed between them, glow sticks stuck in helmets or held in their hands like microphones that two or three of them sang into. 

You watch a few moments, taking note of the differences in the faces and body language. You had been embedded with them for a month, seen them laughing and joking, but this is the first moment that you truly saw no lines of worry on their faces and no tightness in their shoulders.

A small glimmer of jealousy ripples through you. It isn’t that you resented the guys having a good time and relieving some stress, it is more the fact that you had no such outlet. You are the outsider here, the ODA was a tight unit that you would never be a part of. However, you would be leaving in a few days, back to the comforts of home, while these men would still be here for months, you know you shouldn’t begrudge them these rare moments of levity.

Sighing, you back away, leaving the men to their fun. You barely take three steps and you walk into what feels like a brick wall.

Two large and strong hands gripped your shoulders and stopped you from falling on your face. They turn you around quickly and you’re face to face with the Captain.

He stares into your eyes, studying you and you can almost see the calculations and assumptions he’s making. His fingers dig into the flesh of your upper arms, his grip is firm but not tight, still you don’t think you would be able to pull away if he didn’t allow you to.

Without breaking eye contact, he nods in the direction of the room. “You joinin’ the party?”

You shake your head. “I was just leaving.”

He lets you go. “Good. My guys need to blow off some steam. Can’t do that when they’re worried ‘bout slipping up and sayin’ shit that’ll end up splashed all over the papers.”

You roll your eyes. 

He lets out a grunt that is half amused and half annoyed. “You better get outta here ‘fore they notice you.”

“Have you forgotten that I don’t answer to you?”

“Have you forgotten that I don’t give a shit?” 

You open your mouth to retort but he gives you a curt nod and turns, swaggering down the hallway like he was John Wayne or something. You watch him walk away and not for the first take a moment to enjoy the view. He may be a bit of a prick to you sometimes, but the sight of his tight ass and thick thighs straining his camo pants and broad shoulders stretching his t-shirt, sure make forgiving him a hell of a lot easier.

Abruptly, he pauses at the door to his room and looks over his shoulder at you. “You comin’ or what?”

Heat floods your cheeks as you see him smirk at catching you staring at him. It’s also not the first time you’ve been caught checking him out. To be fair though, you’re fairly certain you’ve seen his eyes linger a little too long on your breasts before. You never called him out on it though, in fact, you kind of liked it.

You lift your chin and clear your throat before asking, “Where we going?”

His smirk grows. “To blow off some steam of our own.” He doesn’t wait for a reply before he goes into his room.

“Cocky bastard,” you mutter. You follow him, your curiosity getting the better of you once again.

He’s standing next to his bed, a similar bottle to the one the men had in one hand and two glass tumblers in the other.

“Close the door,” he says, that smug grin still on his face. He places both glasses on his desk and starts to pour.

You warily close the door and your skin prickles and a restlessness starts to build in your joints. You look around the room, trying to appear calm so Sy doesn’t notice your agitation.

“Is this how you normally blow off steam?” you ask. “Drinking alone?”

“Honest answer?” he asks, handing you a glass.

You raise your eyebrow at the amount he poured. Jesus that much would knock you on the floor. He sits on his bed, backing himself into a corner so his back leans against the wall and takes a sip of his drink.

“Off the record?”

You roll your eyes and follow him to his bed, mirroring his position on the opposite end and raise the glass to your lips.

“I usually drink with the guys for a bit then come in here and jerk off,” he says so deadpan that you gasp, causing you to inhale a not too insignificant amount of liquor.

You cough hard, tears coming to your eyes as you try and catch your breath. Sy’s large hand thumps you between your shoulder blades, then starts to rub your back.

“Shit, for a minute there I thought you were being serious,” you rasp out when it doesn’t feel like every breath burns your trachea.

“What makes you think I’m not?” he asks just as seriously as before and just as deadpan. 

He’s close enough that you can feel his warm breath on your cheek. The hand that was on your back is now on your shoulder, the tips of his fingers caressing the back of your neck.

You turn to look at him to gauge his seriousness. His blue eyes sparkle with their usual amount of mischief, but instead of the accompanying grin, the tip of his tongue peeks out from between his lips. It disappears into his mouth followed swiftly by his lower lip which he sucks on briefly then he drags his teeth over it before it returns to its rightful position.

You turn away quickly, your breath comes in hard. God, what would that look like? It’s not like you hadn’t been curious. You’d never seen a man do that before, not in real life anyway.

Equally as hard as your breath is the hand that wraps itself around the nape of your neck, the fingers working deep into the muscles.

“I have to go,” you say.

You stand quickly. Too quickly. The ground spins around you as waver and you throw an arm out to steady yourself with Sy’s shoulder. 

He stands with you, his hands firmly on your waist as he draws you close. 

“You don’t have to go anywhere,” he says roughly. He lifts your chin making you look into his eyes that burned with a fire that rivalled the one growing between your legs. “Stay here. With me. No one’ll notice, not tonight.”

He was so close, his warm breath tickles your lips and smells like mint and alcohol. You inhale deeply through your nose and smell soap, barely a trace of the usual hint of sweat. You study his features, something is different, there’s none of the usual traces of dirt or sand. You look down at his shirt, it’s clean.

Holy shit.

“You planned this?” you say. It’s part question, part accusation.

For the first time this evening he hesitates, his eyes dart away and licks at his lips. 

“So what if I did?” he says eventually, bringing his gaze back to yours.

“I’d say you were one sneaky and presumptive bastard.” 

“Sugar, you say the sweetest things,” he chuckles.

Scowling, you try to look away but he holds your jaw firm and walks you backwards until you hit the wall.

“Don’t fuck with me li’l girl,” Sy says in a voice as rough and jagged as gravel. “I’ve seen you watchin’ me, eye-fucking me, pressing my fucking buttons. You knew what was gonna happen when you walked in that door tonight, don’t pretend otherwise.”

“Maybe I just like riling you up,” you say, pushing your hips into his. “Maybe I like knowing that when you blow off steam, you’re thinking of me.”

“Now who’s bein’ presumptive?” Sy grins.

“I’m not wrong though. Am I?” It’s a stab in the dark really, but as you slowly sway your hips, and brush against the front of his pants Sy clenches his jaw. 

“Not one bit,” he admits through his gritted teeth.

“Show me then,” you say.

Sy’s brows draw together and he leans his head back. “Show you what?”

You reach between Sy’s legs, palming him gently until you find him. You cage his cock with your fingers and press against his semi-rigid length with the heel of your hand.

“Show me how you blow off steam, Sy.”

“You fucking with me?” he asks, cocking his head.

You shake your head. “Not one bit.”

“You wanna watch me jerk off?”

“Uh huh. You’ve made me curious.” You press your hand against him again and you grin when you feel how much quickly he’s thickening in his pants. “Seems you like that idea too.”

He groans and leans into you, rubbing himself against your hand. Then your eyes widen as he reaches between your legs. Your breath leaves your lungs in a rush as his palm presses directly over your clit.

“I was thinkin’ more along the lines of us blowin’ off steam together,” he says, resting his forehead against yours, your noses touching, your lips a hair's breadth away from his.

“We can,” you say softly, your lips so close to his that your lower brushes the whiskers on his chin, “I’ll let you watch me, if I can watch you.”

Sy’s chest works hard as he thinks it over. He takes half a step back and runs his eyes over you, then closes the distance again.

“Okay,” he says, “but I want to see everythin’, no clothes on, no hiding.”

You slip out from between Sy and the wall. He says nothing, but he follows you as you back away until your legs hit the edge of his bed. Although your heart is working overtime and you can feel its pulse everywhere, its strongest between your legs. You want this, want to see the man in front of you on equal footing with you for once. No more of this power play between you, he’d be as vulnerable as you are.

Without overthinking it, you lift your shirt over your head and stare at Sy as you reach behind your back and unclasp your bra.

Sy curses and starts to toe off his boots while pulling his shirt off. It was a race to the finish, and it wasn’t long until you’re both standing naked in front of each other. Sy’s eyes are wild as he takes you all in and his hands work into fists at his sides. You take the time to look at him too from the vast expanse of his chest and the thickness of his shoulders and arm to the way his body tapers to his waist. Your cheeks burn as your gaze drop lower and see his cock, thick, smooth and so fucking hard.

Sy moves, taking your jaw in his hand he kisses you, his lips hard against yours. His arm works its way around your back, drawing your body close to his while his hand grabs a handful of your ass. 

You turn, repositioning the both of you until Sy is back up to the edge of the bed and you keep leaning into him until he takes the hint and sits, pulling you down with him until you’re sitting astride one of his thighs. He takes you with him as he climbs onto the bed. Your tight and pebbled nipples graze his chest and your pussy drags over his thigh as he gets comfortable and rests his back against the wall. The feel of his hard muscle and sparsely haired skin against the hot and wet skin between your legs makes you moan.

His mouth is on yours again. His lips work against yours, nipping, licking and sucking, while his hand works its way down your neck to your breasts. He groans and digs his fingers into the soft flesh, his palm rubbing and massaging.

You push against his shoulder that is all bulky muscle, and pull away from his kiss. His eyes are wild and hungry as he moves to follow your lips.

“No,” you say, lifting your head away from his advances. 

He growls and the arm around your waist tightens, his fingers are bruisingly deep into your hip. 

“Show me,” you whisper.

Taking his hand off your chest, you place it around his cock. Then you lean back, resting your weight on outstretched arms behind you. You rock your hips slowly, dragging your throbbing and wet pussy over his thigh, grinding your clit against him..

“Oh Jesus,” he groans, “fuck that’s… Oh fuck.”

His eyes are feral as he looks over your stretched body like he can’t decide where to look. His hand starts to move while he rakes you, his fist stroking up and down the length of his cock. Part of you longed to touch it, to feel the skin that looked so soft while it slides over the hard, thick core beneath. 

But watching him touch himself is enthralling. He is brutal with himself, his fist slapping hard against his body on the downstroke and his hand chokingly tight on the upstroke. His voice rumbles in his throat, sounding almost like a constant purr.

His free hand is on your ass again, helping you along as you rub yourself against his thigh. You’re so wet, your arousal glistens on his leg and you can hear the wet sounds of your pussy as you slide over him. Your thighs tighten around him as they start to shake, you’re not going to last much longer, the feel and sight of him is just too good after all this time.

“Come ‘ere,” he says hoarsely, wrapping an arm around you until your body is flush with his. 

Your knee brushes against his sack and he lets go of his cock a moment to clasp your thigh drawing you close until your thigh is almost crushing him. His hand reaches for your nape and pulls your panting mouth down to his, and taking advantage of your parted lips he slips his tongue between them to stroke, massage and explore.

His thigh falls away and you whimper at the loss until you feel his palm cupping you. The roughened texture of his hand feels even better and your arms encircle his neck as you kiss him back and slide your tongue over his.

“Oh fuck,” you cry as one of his thick fingers slips inside you and immediately curls. 

The pressure feels so good that you cover his hand with yours and push another of his fingers inside you before you tighten your legs until you trap his hand and roll your hips over it.

“That’s it, baby,” Sy encourages, “Use me. Make that tight li’l pussy come all over my hand.”

You shake, your whole body trembles and tightens as you breathe hard into Sy’s mouth. His pupils are so big, his eyes look as dark as the ocean at night as he stares up at you. His free hand moves to your chest, seeking out your nipple and rolls it between his fingers. You shiver at the feeling and your nerves are on fire as it moves through your body and slams into your clit.

“Harder,” you gasp.

Sy takes your tight little bud and pinches, before giving it a jerking twist. You bite down on his lip as your body shudders and your pussy starts to throbs sending pulses of heat ripping through your body.

“Fuck yeah,” Sy growls as he watches you cum, hardly feeling your teeth in his flesh. 

He waits for your body to go lax before he moves and lays you on your back. He grabs his cock again and resumes his brutal beating as he holds himself over you, watching you bathe in the afterglow.

“Where do ya want it?” he asks in a voice that’s thick and guttural.

You shake your head. “Wherever you want,” you say, breathlessly. “My face. My tits. My cunt. Anywhere. Everywhere.”

Sy lets out a string of curses, his hand moving so quickly it’s nothing but a blur. You lift your knee until it presses against his balls again. His eyes go wide and raising himself to his knees he frees his hand to hold you to him. 

“Fuck!” he bellows, his face going red as the first hot jet of his release splashes over your neck and chin.

He grins, and half chuckles as his body jerks with each stuttering release as he paints your body with white ribbons. He squeezes himself, forcing the last of his cum to leak out slowly over your pussy.

He stares at you, his face still split into such a wide smile, that it makes you giggle too. He chuckles freely as he reaches between your legs and using his thumb, spreads his cum over your pussy.

“Stop that,” you laugh as he brushes your still sensitive clit.

“Shit baby, look so fuckin’ pretty right now.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Uh huh. How about cleaning me up?”

He leans over and grabs a small hand towel from the footlocker of his bed and starting at your chin, he carefully wipes up.

When he’s done, he cups your cheek and kisses you. It’s nothing like the kisses he’d given you up until this point. It was soft, gentle, almost loving.

When he pulls away he looks at you expectantly, like you’re supposed to say something, but you’re at a loss as to what he wants. He doesn’t seem to mind though because he lowers his head and kisses you again.

You wait for him to break the kiss again and throw your legs over the edge of the bed.

“I should go,” you say.

Sy’s hand grips your shoulder and pulls you back down. “Stay. Sleep here.” 

You start to protest but Sy is suddenly on top of you, silencing your objections with a deep, hard kiss.

“Stay,” he says and you stiffen at the command in his voice.

He must have felt your reaction because his next word is softer and more of a plea.

“Please.”

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #rabbitsmilestone23 #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fan fiction #captain syverson #captain sy #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson fanfic #captain sy x reader #captain sy fanfiction #syverson #captain syverson x reader #syverson x you #syverson x reader

[honeyhotteok]

summary: you take jibeom on a shopping trip at the mall.

--

“Those shorts need to go NOW.”

Jibeom’s eyes widen. “I like you too Y/N but don’t you think we’re moving a little fas-”

“Ugh, I meant we need to replace that purple camo abomination!” You grab him by the wrist and drag him into the nearest department store.

Jibeom looked fine as hell in his school uniform at school, so to see that his choice of clothing outside of school included those shorts was simply unacceptable to you. The two of you were meant to work on your group project together over the weekend, but you decided that this could not wait and ended up at the mall with him.

You make a beeline to the men’s section and flip through clothing racks of pants while he does the same.

“Hey Y/N, what about these?” He holds up a pair of pink camo shorts, only to be met with a look of horror on your face.

“Okay, why don’t we just rule out all camo shorts for now,” you say as you shove a pile of pants and shorts into his big arms. You shoo him into the fitting room before he can protest about how camo is a part of his countryside identity again.

He tries on cargo pants, slacks, mesh basketball shorts in different colors. But they’re all either uncomfortable or just don’t feel like him, and you agree. You also actually like the boots he’s wearing and want him to keep those, so it needs to be something that matches them too.

He finally emerges wearing a pair of cutoff denim shorts.

“Hm, not bad. Definitely an improvement.” You admire how it matches well with his black t-shirt and black combat boots, and how good he looks and fills out everything he’s wearing, and... You realize you’ve been staring for quite a bit while checking him out.

“Ahem, anyway, yeah I like those!” You try to hide the fact that your cheeks are turning pink.

“Oh okay! I’ll get these then,” he beams, suddenly excited to be replacing his beloved shorts.

#LOLOL idk what this is #but here are some crumbs for my fellow kwak jibeom stans #also struggled a bit to characterize jibeom with the little content we have of him but i Tried #fave big boy #lookism x reader #kwak jibeom x reader #kwak jibeom #lookism

[anonymouspuzzler]

big giant freaking post because i simply think the OLD SEMI-REFORMED CRIME MEN should KISS EACH OTHER

(alt text/image IDs under cut!)

[Image 1 ID: A black and white drawing of Raz and Oleander. Raz, gesturing to the side with one thumb, says, "Your co-conspirator is GNC as heck". Oleander, grimacing and refusing to make eye contact, standing with one fist on his hip, replies, "you're insane".]

[Image 2 ID: A black and white drawing of Oleander and Loboto speaking to a nondescript, silhouetted person in the foreground. Oleander is wearing a low-cut, short-sleeved button-up, dogtags on a necklace, and sunglasses on top of his head, standing with one hand on his hips; Loboto is crouched behind him, wearing a dress over a loose sweater, one hand resting over Oleander's shoulder, with one of Oleander's hands on his knee. Oleander, grinning smugly, says, "Hey, me and my co-conspirator saw you from across the bar and we hate your vibes"; Loboto, grinning manically, ads, "We're gonna take your brain out and see how far it bounces when we throw it".]

[Image 3 ID: A colored illustration of Loboto and Oleander sitting on the floor, Oleander in Loboto's lap. Loboto is wearing knee-length dark brown boots and a bulky green sweater with slim multicolored stripes, over which is a purple dress with a pattern of seaweed and fish along the hem. Oleander is in his usual outfit, minus the helmet. He is looking down at a stack of papers in one hand, reaching up behind him gesturing for a paper which Loboto has taken and lifted up to his face, the other arm around Oleander.]

[Image 4 ID: Oleander, sitting on an implied ledge, wearing a camo-print tank top, blue jeans and knee-length brown boots. Loboto is sitting on the ground to his right, wearing an off-white t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and purple overalls unbuttoned on one side, with a hole in the left knee. He has his arms loosely around Oleander and is giving him a gentle kiss on the lips, to which Oleander is looking back with a surprised blush.]

[Image 5 ID: A colored illustration of Loboto and Oleander. Loboto is leaning back in a dark teal-green wooden chair with his elbow leaning on a round, light-green wooden table. He is wearing a baggy navy blue "All Paul Cruise" t-shirt with an orange neckline, which hangs slightly off his left shoulder and exposes a bit of his stomach, as well as light-green pajama pants patterned with orange and purple fish, and mismatched purple slippers, one plain with an orange patch and the other blue-and-pink striped. He is holding his unbuckled prosthetic limply in his left hand and looking over at Oleander with a raised eyebrow and chastising expression. Oleander is standing by the other side of the table in a white tank top, light-and-dark blue striped boxers, beige socks and bunny slippers. He has a light coat of stubble and looks sleepy and very mildly annoyed. He is holding a coffee cup with the Psychonauts logo in one hand and using the other to hold a pointer finger to his temple, creating an orange telekinetic hand to pour a pitcher of coffee into his mug.]

[Image 6 ID: A greyscale illustration of Loboto and Oleander asleep in bed. Oleander is on the left, lying on his back, wearing a tank top and striped boxers, with one leg propped up on Loboto's side. Loboto is to the right lying on his side, chest facing the mattress, wearing a quilted eye mask, a baggy shirt, and pajama pants patterned with fish. Loboto's prosthetic is off and he is reaching over Oleander to hold his right hand; his legs are also dangling off the edge of the mattress. One of Loboto's boots is on the floor to the right of the bed, while Oleander's bunny slippers are on the left partially under the bed. There are also nightstands to each side of the bed. On Oleander's side is his helmet, an alarm clock, and a three-ring notebook in a compartment underneath; on Oleander's side is his prosthetic, a plush fish, a wind-up chattering teeth toy, and a "TRUE DENTAL TALES" magazine in a compartment underneath.]

[Image 7 ID: A greyscale illustration of Oleander and Loboto. Oleander is sitting on the edge of a mattress, shirtless and wearing striped boxers, rubbing his head with one hand and looking back over his shoulder at Loboto, who is lying in bed behind him. Loboto is missing his shower cap, with his hair in sloppy patches, and looking sleepily at Oleander. His prosthetic is around one side of Oleander while his natural hand is sitting on Oleander's thigh.]

[Image 8 ID: A black-and-white illustration of Oleander and Loboto from the bust up. Loboto, sitting on the right and wearing a bulky ribbed sweater, twists his head around to give a surprised Oleander a kiss on the lips.]

[Image 9 ID: A black-and-white illustration of Loboto, grinning, scooping up Oleander in his arms, who flails slightly with his arms to the side like a kitten being picked up by a child. His helmet is getting knocked askew and he looks flustered, blushing and sweating.]

[Image 10 ID: A color illustration of Loboto holding Oleander in his arms, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Oleander is flailing in his hold but grinning widely at the affection.]

[Image 11 ID: A color illustration of Loboto and Oleander arguing over a map. Loboto is wearing a "TEETH MACHINE" t-shirt with lime green shoulders and collar that cuts off just above his belly button, rolled-up cargo shorts cinched tightly at the waist with a belt, green ribbed socks and greenish-black sandals; he is bent over at the waist with his prosthetic hand on his hip and his other hand pointing at something on the map. Oleander is standing next to him wearing a pink open aloha shirt with a floral pattern, a low-cut Whispering Rock tank, frayed denim shorts, dark socks, white tennis shoes and a magenta baseball cap. He is holding the map in his left hand and gesticulating wildly with the other, shouting as he looks down at the map. In the background are Raz and Lilli, holding hands; Raz is eating a cotton candy while Lilli is smiling and pointing at something offscreen.]

[Image 12 ID: A sketch of a grinning Loboto standing in a corner, pinned by Oleander, who is having to hold himself up with both hands and feet on the walls in a split to keep himself at eye-level.]

[Image 13 ID: Loboto imagining Oleander in his bright-blue mermaid tail, topless and wearing his gloves, one hand holding a microphone and the other making a V-sign. He is grinning widely and singing into the microphone, with hearts and musical notes in the background behind him. Below the imagine-spot is Loboto, grinning wobbly and blushing, one hand scratching his cheek. In the background are two of the fishmen from Rhombus of Ruin, both staring at Loboto in confusion.]

[Image 14 ID: A sketch of Oleander posing on a rock wearing his mermaid tail; Loboto is in the foreground, wearing a beret on top of his shower cap and sticking his tongue out in concentration as he sketches him with his prosthetic hand. The drawing is comically bad.]

[Image 15 ID: Multiple rough sketches of Loboto and Oleander. To the left is a little sketch of Oleander, left, and Loboto, right, holding hands; Loboto is smiling vacantly while Oleander is slightly flustered and pretending not to be, standing with one hand on his hip. In the middle is Oleander and Loboto sitting on the floor in a heap together, Loboto facing sideways and folded over with his arms around Oleander, legs on either side of him, and his head resting sideways on top of Oleander's head. Oleander has one hand on Loboto's knee and the other around his shoulders, resting on his neck. Loboto is topless, wearing jeans and his boots, and has a lovestruck grin; Oleander is in his usual pants and boots and a t-shirt, grinning somewhat smugly up at Loboto. To the right is a little sketch of Loboto holding up Oleander up in his arms, facing him; Loboto is grinning while Oleander, limbs limp, looks slightly embarrassed. On top is a sketch of Oleander sitting on a couch holding a bottle, with Loboto on the floor next to him; Loboto is in a baggy t-shirt and boxers, without his shower cap, and has turned around to cradle a flustered Oleander's head and kiss him on the lips.]

[Image 16 ID: A sketch of Oleander, sitting in Loboto's lap wearing a t-shirt and jeans, leaning against Loboto's knees and looking exasperated. Loboto is wearing a tank top and jeans and has a delighted grin, repeatedly slapping Oleander's bald head with his left hand.]

[Image 17-18 IDs: A two-panel comic split into two images. In the first, Loboto is sitting in a wooden chair at a round table holding a screwdriver in his left hand, wearing a baggy t-shirt and frayed sweatpants, looking back over at his shoulder at Oleander in the foreground. Oleander is standing at the kitchen sink, wearing an open button-up shirt over a tank top, as well as dishwashing gloves, and has his right hand in a fist while his left shoves something into the water. A screencapped caption from a Tumblr post reads "my boyfriend is washing the dishes and I just heard him say "who do you work for? who's your contact???" while repeatedly pushing a glass under water". The second panel cuts so Loboto is in the foreground, looking confused and raising his prosthetic hand to his chin, while in the background Oleander (visibly on a stepstool to reach the sink) holds up a glass with telekinesis and brandishes a knife at it, shouting. A second screencapped caption reads "at least he's having fun???"]

[Image 19 ID: A two-panel comic. In the first, Oleander is sitting on a stool at a table, looking down at blueprints he is caressing with his right hand, holding a martini glass in his left, looking contemplative. He says, "*sigh* What an amazing couple we would've been..." In the second panel, Loboto has suddenly appeared and hugs him from behind, grinning and saying "still cooould beeee [heart symbol]"; Oleander, flustered and grimacing, shouts back, "I COULD NOT BE MORE OBVIOUSLY TALKING TO THE MECH".]

[Image 20 ID: A colored two-panel comic. In the first, Oleander is in front of a red curtain, with Sheegor seen from behind in the background. He is wide-mouth shouting to Loboto offsceen, "You bozo! Have you no dignity?" In the second panel, Loboto has entered from stage left, grinning with mouth agape, responding, "Of course not! How long have we worked together?!" Oleander glares back with his mouth tight in a grimace, looking like he's barely holding back his rage.]

[Image 21-22 IDs: A two-panel black-and-white comic. In the first, Oleander is standing in front of an Otto-bon hatch surrounded by planters, with his hands on his hips and a serious expression, saying, "This summer I lost my (extremely platonic) co-conspirator". In the second, the camera cuts in slightly closer as Oleander clenches a fist, eyes closed and shedding a single tear, saying, "Sometimes I can still hear his voice..." In the background, Loboto emerges from the Otto-bon hatch, shouting, "QUIT TELLING PEOPLE I'M DEAD".]

[Image 23 ID: A color illustration of Loboto and Oleander sitting on a wine-purple couch with a golden-yellow throw blanket over the back, watching a rabbit-ear television, with a red rug with gold trim below them. There is also an orange cushion on the floor and two drink cans to the right. Loboto is sitting on the left side, one leg slung over the arm of the sofa on which his prosthetic arm is resting, leaning on the other arm, with a bowl of popcorn nestled in the crook of that arm. He is wearing a baggy green sweater that only reaches midway down his torso, a white button-up under that with the collar popped, and purple pajama pants patterned with teeth, as well as a teal-green sock on only his left foot (with the other visible discarded off the side of the sofa). Oleander is on the other side of the sofa, leaning against the arm on his left side and taking a fistful of popcorn with his right hand. He is wearing a zip-up orange-and-light-yellow sweater, long green pants, purple socks and reddish-brown slippers. A text balloon coming from the TV reads "I wanna be... a dentist!!" Loboto, grinning and pointing with his prosthetic hand, says, "This weird clown has it right." Oleander, lifting an eyebrow, responds, "That's an elf", to which Loboto replies, "No, no. Elves is the tall guys with the shooty bits".]

#anonymous puzzler art #psychonauts #psychonauts 2 #morceau oleander #caligosto loboto #long post #tw for bare chest n mildly suggestive content #god help me i draw these two a lot huh #i'm right though they should kiss.

[meetmyothersouls]

How are you darling? I have a request from Santa here, if you like it and want to do it. The reader finds a very cute Tim/ Santa putting her presents under the tree. But she doesn't have cookies for him, so she treats him to some dirty fun.🎄💚 And he's so busy all night, he needs to relax…..Merry Christmas dear!

Ahhh a Christmas request! I'm so excited! I'm not sure if I went the way you were expecting, but I hope you like it anyway!

The Man in Red

Warnings: smut, tit fucking, holiday themed, reader who doesn’t like Christmas, not proof read

It's finally almost over.

After months of hearing the same monotonous songs, dealing with people that are either overly jolly or horrendously rude, and seeing the same annual annoying decorations, your least favorite holiday is almost over.

Christmas. In case you need any further clarification.

You aren't sure why you dislike it so much.

It could be because you've spent every Christmas alone for the last ten years. Loneliness does tend to make one grow bitter...and ten years of it has made you detrimentally so. That, at the fact that Halloween has always been more your speed when it comes to holidays. Either way, it's Christmas Eve, and after tomorrow, you won't have to worry about hearing another Christmas song until next November.

Fuck yes.

You take a long shower after work, throw on your favorite oversized, old band t-shirt you got from 2009 Warped Tour and climb into your bed with a cup of spicy chicken ramen you've been waiting for all day, and attempt to find something on TV that isn't a Christmas movie, special or cheesy episode from a series. The task proves easier said than done when pretty much everything on TV tonight is, of course, Christmas related. 

You fall asleep with your half-eaten cup of ramen in hand. A gentle thud in the far corner of your apartment wakes you. You jump in your bed; the remainder of your ramen spills out onto the floor as you hear heavy footsteps travel across your floor. 

“Fuck,” you whisper. 

The footsteps stop. 

They’ve heard you. 

You slide out of your bed, careful not to slip on the now cold noodles pooling on your floor and grab the bat you keep underneath your bed. You never know when you might need to beat the shit out of an intruder. 

Enough time and silence go by for the footsteps to pick up once more, assuming you have fallen back asleep. You creep down the hall, bat in hand, and poke your head around the corner. It doesn’t take long to catch a glimpse of your burglar. He’s tall and skinny and wearing all red. 

Odd. 

Aren’t criminals and burglars supposed to be concealed? Don’t they usually wear like camo or black? This dude has got on a full red ensemble. Complete with skintight red satin pants and a matching red top that leaves little to the imagination. At least form the back. And he’s carrying something...something that resembles a sack. 

The not so inconspicuous stranger looks around your apartment in search of something. He sets the sack down and it clatters loudly. It’s filled with many items, by the looks of it. He scratches his head and it’s almost comical. You start to relax, thinking this dude is obviously not a threat, but you catch yourself. Maybe that’s what he wants you to think? Luckily, you aren’t that much of an idiot to fall into traps set up by men who want to do you harm. Harmless men don’t sneak into people’s houses in the middle of the night...with giant sacks. 

You sneak up behind him, your bat in the ready position, and just when you go for the swing, he speaks. 

“So, you mean to tell me, not only did you not put up a Christmas tree, but you’re also going to beat me with a bat?”

You freeze. He’s not even turned around how does he know-

The man in red turns around and your heart stops as well as your breathing...and your thoughts. Holy shit he’s hot. Your mouth hangs open and your arms go limp, sending the bat to the floor. He catches the bat with one hand before it lands and uses the index finger of the other to close your open mouth. 

“So...what you don’t celebrate Christmas?” 

“Huh?” You ask, half dazed in all of his glory, half genuinely confused. 

“Christmas, you know the holiday? Put up a tree, Santa comes. You know! Christmas!” 

Your eyes travel up and down this man’s body. The red outfit...the sack...he doesn’t have a beard or white hair...but...

“Are-are you...S-Santa?”

He stares at you. Stone faced and arms crossed before buckling over and laughing. You feel embarrassed, so much so you want to run into your room and hide. You cannot believe you just asked such a stupid--

“No, no. Santa’s my father,” he says, collecting himself to answer your question. 

“What?”

“Santa’s my father. I’m his son, Timothee, buuuuut you know he’s getting a little old and needs help so. Here I am,” Santa’s son spins, showing off his bare back. “But what I’m trying to figure out is, why there’s not freaking tree here? I’m supposed to leave you these presents, and I’m legally not allowed to place them here without a tree.” 

You open your mouth, but he keeps talking. 

“You see apparently Christmas trees are like a ‘hey it’s okay to leave me a bunch of shit in my house and I won’t call the cops’ but if you don’t have a tree then...why do you look so confused?”

“I....because I am. What the fuck is happening?”

Timothee stands up straight, pulling his feet together and holding out a hand. 

“Hi, I’m Timothee. You can call me Tim, Timmy, the elves call me Lil Timmy Tim. I’m Santa’s son. I’m here to bring you your presents.” 

It’s at this time, you see his eyes travel down your body and you remember the only thing you’re wearing is an oversized t-shirt. You pull it down further, attempting to stretch the fabric to your knees. You only look back up when you hear his black boots clunk against the floors again. 

“Actually, by the looks of it. Maybe you don’t celebrate Christmas.” He pulls out a chair from your dining room and sits in it. “Maybe I should show you how this Christmas thing works, hmm?” He pats his lap with a single hand. “Come. Come tell me what you want for Christmas.” 

Your face his hot--no--your entire body is hot. And Timothee’s words are igniting something deep within your core. Then, you’re walking toward him, even though everything in you would normally run the other way and lock yourself in your room. You turn your body and sit on his lap, like a child would sit on the actual Santa’s lap. You’ve seen it a million times in malls and did it at least 10 times in your life as a child. 

You feel his leathery gloved hands on your waist followed by his voice. 

“Mmmm. Now, I can’t see you when you sit that way, now can I? Be a good girl and turn around for me.” 

You stand, and Timothee’s hands stay on your waist, helping you turn to face him. 

“You want me to sit facing you?” 

He nods and pulls them hem of your shirt until your straddling his waist on your dining room chair. Timothee shifts in the chair, adjusting himself beneath you. You can feel him firm underneath you. 

“Now, tell me, have you been a good girl or a bad girl this year?” 

You feel yourself grow damper with each word that falls from his mouth. 

“I...I don’t know,” you whisper. 

Timothee smirks and hikes your shirt up around your waist, exposing your panties. 

“By the looks of it,” Timothee whispers back. “You’ve been a bad girl. Do you think it feels that way too?” 

You nod.

“Should we find out?” His words come out like as sultry as the satin he’s wearing. 

You nod again.

His fingers fumble with the hem of your panties until he’s able to slide a finger along your core, earning a small whimper from you. He pulls it out and it glistens with your arousal. You watch him intently. You watch him as he takes the finger he dipped into you with and slides it into his mouth, sucking it clean. 

“Mmmm,” Timothee groans. “You taste like one too.” His hands go to your thighs, moving you against the hard form under his pants. “Do you know what I want for Christmas?” He asks. 

“Wh-what?” You whisper. 

“To hear what you sound like when you cum.”

You moan softly as he continues to grind you against him. Your clit pressing against your panties with each motion. Sex with strangers isn’t normally your thing, but this feels so right and good in this moment, and he smells like a delicious mixture of hot chocolate and peppermint. You can’t help but give in. 

“So what are you waiting for?” You say, shocked at how confidently it came out. 

It takes less than a minute for Timothee to pull his cock out from his pants and you wonder how many women he’s whipped it out for tonight. You shove the thought aside as he tears your panties off of your body and pulls your shirt off. He groans in almost a whine as your tits bounce free. 

“Fuuuuck,” he groans, wasting no time as he guides his cock into your entrance. He inches himself inside of you and every inch you take stretches you gloriously. Timothee’s eyes close and he grips your waist as you slowly start to ride his cock. You use a number of motions; you roll your hips against him, feeling him hit you in the right place with each forward motion. You bounce on his cock in various speeds and judging by the way his mouth hangs open, he really likes it. You feel yourself tighten around him when he brings a finger to your clit and rubs it in slow, steady circles. Your body shakes as you cum around him a pool of wetness covering his cock. 

“I’m cumming. I’m cumming,” you whine, making sure to throw in a few extra whines and moans as you do, just so he can get his Christmas wish. 

Once you come down from your orgasm, you slide off of his cock. He watches every move you make as you get on your knees in front of him. 

“Lemme give you one more gift,” you say as you press your tits together. His cock is glistening with your cum and it’s just the right amount for you to do this for him. You slide his cock between your tits and bounce on your knees, fucking him with your boobs. Timothee throws his head back, bucking his hips as your tits work his cock. He looks down at you, letting out a guttural groan as he his cock twitches twice and shoots your neck with cum. 

“Okay,” Timothee says, breathless, “I think I can forgive you for the tree.” He tucks his half flaccid dick back into his pants. He steps into the kitchen and looks around. “But I’m not sure I can forgive you for the lack of cookies.” 

Tags: @imnotoverlyobsessive @dayafied @soulofendlessbook @fashphotolife @chicchanelcigs @scentedkittenperfection @weasleytwinscumslut @timotheel0ver @mxciscastleintheair @marvelmaniac2000 @lovelyrocker @divine-1 @louievr @love-poems-only @starberry-cake @inlovewithphantasy @alexagirlie @misswestfall @softhecreator @livresjaunes @timmymyluv @inannamoon @harrys-thick-thighs @s-we-e-t-t-ea @timolaurence @its-schmackin-dude @justagirlwhoneedshelp

#timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet #writing #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x you #timothee blurb #timothee chalamet imagine #timmy chalamet #smut #Christmas

[iwanncry]

I just want to go home. ( Madness combat x Child! Reader)

((THIS IS COMPLETELY PLATONIC!! ABSOLUTELY NO P3D0 SHIT))

((The reader is also gender-neutral ^^ ))

((TW/CW: Gorey descriptions, cursing, mentioned cannibalism))

hey ya'll this is like the first thing I have ever written on here so please do enjoy! ^^

______________________________________________________________

walking around Nevada isn't really what you would call fun, especially if you are a defenseless 13-year-old walking around what was once a place people could call home.

keyword, Once.

you missed the smell of home, you missed your family, you missed your friends and even school.

you just wished you were in your bed back in your hometown rather than finding somewhere safe to spend the night while making sure there weren't any man-eating bandits lurking around, waiting till they could get their hands on another poor victim that they could happily devour.

Thinking of them made you cringe, and you decided it would be best just to look around to take your mind off of the dark topic.

Walking around you stumble upon a city..or what was once a city, looking around in both awe and despair at how such a huge area was so...empty, cold, and sad.

but something snapped you out of your trance, from the corner of your eye, you could see a wanted poster attached to one of the many buildings in this 'ghost town' of a city.

you approach the poster and rip it off of the wall it was resting on and gave a look at the details displayed on it.

when reading the list of crimes one caught your eye.

"Distorting reality?... Woah whoever this guy is, he is badass." you chuckled at your own comment. You glanced at the picture that was right above the list of things you shouldn't do in life and saw the man behind it all.

He had menacing red goggles that would pierce through your soul if you even just looked at him, His bottom jaw just wasn't there. The only thing that was still attached to His face was his upper jaw which was missing some flesh around where his mouth would be up to where his nose should be.

You finally tore your eyes from the paper, cringing at the gross man displayed in front of you.

You ripped the poster in half and continued walking till you heard 3 voices approaching, your fight or flight response kicked in and you decided to hide in an alleyway right beside a dumpster that was out of view.

"Gah! my legs are givin' out on me..yo hank, Sanford, let's stop here and rest. my dogs are killin' me!"

Said a masculine voice, you crossed your fingers and hoped that whoever was there didn't stop in the alleyway you were in. but just your luck, you saw three bodies enter the same exact alleyway you were hiding in.

when you peeked to see who at least came in the alleyway, you recognized one of them almost immediately.

It's the man you saw on the damn poster.

he was tall, built, and overall fucking terrifying, you didn't exactly recognize the two other men that were with him.

One of the men had headphones and a visor on, along with the many bandages wrapped around his head. He had on a black sweater, black sweatpants, and a plain white T-shirt that was covered in blood and random yellow stuff, he also rocked a cool mullet.

the other man was slightly taller than the mullet dude but not as tall as the very scary man standing next to him, he had no shirt on which revealed his very well-built torso. he also had a bandana on his head which covered the many bandages that wrapped around his cranium, he also had on camo pants and a pair of combat boots, along with very stylish sun-glasses.

while studying these men, you lost footing and fell on the ground making a loud noise that alerted the men, they quickly turned their bodies and pointed their guns.

right. at. you

"W-WAIT! please d-don't shoot, I'll just leave."

You cried while tears spilled out of your sockets.

"Please don't shoot, I just want to find my mom"

You sobbed pitifully and you hated yourself for it, but yet again you didn't want to die.

the men put their guns down and the shirtless man proceeded to come up to you.

"Hey kid..how old are you?" he asked

You looked up at the man and simply responded with "I'm..I'm thirteen."

The man looked at you, dumbfounded "Thirteen?!"

You look down at the concrete floor.

"I just want to go home."

______________________________________________________________

#prompts #madness combat #madness combat x reader #child!reader #wattpad #ao3 #hank j. wimbleton #madness combat deimos #sanford

[fictionalmenxyn]

This morning I was reading a post that I enjoyed reading @rafeandonlyrafe post where people try to flirt with Rafe at his daughters t-ball game. So I thought I could maybe do something similar but a different approach so it’s not copying. So credits to @rafeandonlyrafe for making a great post! :)

Daddy’s not around much is he?

Father!Price x mother!reader

Watching your daughters first rugby game, you smiled as she ran around the coned off field smile and enjoying her game. You heard someone say your name, so you looked around; it was most likely someone talking to someone else with the same name. But when you saw the same group of men glance over at you every now and again you rolled your eyes in annoyance.

They have been like this since you first let your daughter join rugby. You got the usual stuff like being asked to go to the pub to have a few and to stay at theirs for the night. This really annoyed you.

You watched as your daughter ran over to you as the whistle blew for the game to end. She ran over shouting “I had the ball, I had the ball, mummy!” You smiled widely and opened your arm “well done, darling!” You both shared a hug for a moment then she pulled away to have some water. She asked “is daddy coming yet?” You nodded and spoke “he’s almost here.” You smiled.

You heard someone approach you both, you looked up to see one of those men from that group of fathers. He asked “so where’s the man you’ve told us about?” He smirked evilly thinking there was no man at all. You remarked “he’s five minutes away.” He raised and eyebrow and looked at your daughter and said “Daddy’s not around much is he?” Your daughter didn’t understand that this was a poke at you so she said “no, but she’s a hero!” You smiled and said “I’d suggest you’d leave before he actually gets here.”

The man laughed “please, we all know ‘he’ isn’t here. He isn’t in the picture and we all know it. So come on, come over by us we’ll buy you some pints and then you can see who’s place you wanna crash at tonight.” There was a scoff behind the man.

He turned around and was met with Price, you smirked and things just got better. The man asked “who are you?” Your daughter noticed Price was right there and shouted “Daddy!” She ran into his arms as he picked her up. He spoke “hello, love.” He kissed her temple and asked the man “so, you want to buy my wife a pint and hope she spends the night with you, is that so?”

The man looked at Price, analysing that he had his casual army uniform on. He saw his camo-combat trousers with his green t-shirt and his badge. The man chuckled “so you like to dress up as a military man I see.” This woman was not backing down anytime soon.

Price spoke “well if I’m away seven months a year, saving people like you from danger and was meddled a Captain. I wouldn’t be dressed like this would I? Please excuse us my wife and I haven’t seen each other in a few months.”

The man was about to walk then Price said calmly yet warning “if I ever hear your or your good for nothing mates are talking to my wife like that again, your don’t want to know what will happen.” Price gave him a smile and patted his shoulder then the man walked away as if he’s just seen a ghost.

You stood up and hugged Price, you gave his a kiss which he deepened by pulling you closer and placing his hand on the small of your back.

He pulled away and spoke “are those the men that keep harassing you?” You nodded and he said “what a bunch of idiots.” You both sat down as your daughter ran over to her next game.

Price watch your daughter run around and playing rugby, then he looked at you and placed a hand on your thigh and spoke “it’s nice to be back.” You rested your head on his shoulder and smiled while looking at him “it’s nice to have you back.” He kissed your head and glanced at the group of men who would occasionally look at you both.

The men walked past and one cat-called you, Price warned “I’d watch it if i were you, I’ve told you once.” Some of the men chuckled so Price said “At least I was able to put a ring on her finger, lads.” Then the men grew quiet again. Another point for Price, you laughed watching your husband being pleased with his comebacks. You both looked over to your daughter to see her try and gain another point for her team. You both cheered loudly and so did the other parents to the team your daughter was on.

What a day.

Once again thank you to @rafeandonlyrafe for making a good post all credits to them as this post is inspired by their post. :D

Have a good day/night all! 🫶

#task force 141 #cod x reader #task force 141 x y/n #cod mw2 #cod headcanons #cod modern warfare #y/n mw2 #cod price #price call of duty #captain price #john price x reader #price x reader #price mw2 #john price #captain price x you #price #price cod #captain john price #captain price x y/n #captain price x female reader #captain price x reader #captain johnathan price #captain john price x reader #captain john price x female reader #captain john price x you #captain Jonathan price #john price x you #price x you #john price x y/n

[lesserknowncryptids]

Lesser Known Cryptid 11/17/20: Fashion Men's Casual Camo Shark JawHead Round Neck Cotton T-Shirts Large

#cryptids #shark #teeth #eyes #tee shirt #lesser known cryptids #classic cryptid sunday

[southern-god1]

*There is a crackle of ozone and light as a shimmering portal opens up in downtown Richmond*

…interesting.

First on the scene was Richmond PD, soon followed by a force from the Virginia Home Guard: a ring of armored personnel carriers and Home Guard troops surrounded the portal on all sides.

The Southern Avengers mobilized quickly. Through the military and police cordon came three men who had arrived by a modified Hughes helicopter. One of them was tall and muscular, wearing a military uniform and hefting a large shield, somewhat pointed - enabling it to be used as a weapon - with a stylized battle flag on it. He was scruffy and had a large pistol on his hip; he was instantly recognizable as an icon of Dixie: Captain Confederate. He drew his pistol and held his shield aloft, ready for anything.

Another was thinner, less muscular. He wore a pair of dark jeans, a simple t-shirt and a leather jacket with an intricate design on the back which blended the beloved Confederate flag with occult symbols and imagery. He reached into pocket for a cigarette, which he lit with a snap of his fingers. This was not just a smoke for him; the cigarette held a trapped Yankee soul, to be used in whatever magic was required of The Pale Rider.

The third was a hulking figure, a tall, muscular, beefy man in an outfit resembling a cross between a set of football gear and a military uniform: he wore no helmet, showing his handsome scruffy face. Stonewall took point, standing protectively in front of the teammates.

Three more figures emerged from the sky. One landed with a thud, slightly indenting the pavement. He was an enormous figure, bearded and with a suit of armor which mostly covered his chest, leaving his muscular arms free. Complex designs decorated the armor, blending the interlaced animal designs and runic script of the Norse with southern crosses and cotton bolls, intricately weaving together to reflect his dual heritage of the Son of Odin and a Son of Dixie. Thor’s eyes glowed and lightning arced up and down his arms as he faced the portal.

Another figure landed, a pair of boots touching the pavement and smoothly walking as though he’d just stepped down from a truck rather than land from the sky. He wore a simple set of brown work boots, jeans, a t-shirt, and camo ball cap, the shirt and cap sporting the battle flag. He was scruffy, ruggedly handsome, and while he had large muscles, they were less pronounced than his colleagues. Even so, The MAN was one of the strongest team members. He simply stood there, pulled out a can of dip, and stuffed some dip in his lip.

The third figure to emerge from the sky arrived through artificial means: a figure in full power armor landed, thrusters in the boots kicking up eddies of dust as he landed. The armor was made from a complex self-repairing alloy, augmented with nanites, and could absorb large amounts of energy and redirect it to weapons. It was in a somewhat understated, abstractly patriotic design, more Art Deco lines and colors than huge battle flags. He was already scanning the portal, and readied his repulsors: machine guns popped up from the wrists as well. Iron Rebel was fascinated but prepared for combat.

Up on a rooftop, the seventh team member was hidden, wearing a complex semi-powered stealth suit in matte black, capable of turning invisible at will. The suit hugged his pecs, but was also highly protective. A .50 cal sniper rifle was at the ready, with various exotic ammo types set out in case the typical round failed to do the job: special armor-piercing, incendiary, explosive, and even a course-correcting gyrojet round that could correct its own path if the enemy moved. The Reaper was ready for anything, his scope trained on the portal.

…I have no idea what will come out of this. Feel free to send different things though, this could be interesting. Even if nothing happens, at least I’ve got a good description of the Southern Avengers I can reuse.

#ask #southern avengers

[afunfunkytime]

Outfit of the Day 2: Nevada

yes I did forget about this yesterday shh

in honour of his statehood day (yesterday), we're doin the queen himself

This man dresses like he's the main character. Because he is.

[✓] Style

[✓] Grace

[X] Funny face

All of his shoes have a 3 inch heel minimum, and all of his favourites are way taller. He likes seeing eye to eye with Texas because he knows it intimidates him. Nevada enjoys his stilettos, high quality luxury shoes because this man is fancy, but he's partial to a good tall platform boot. He's got a lot of men to step on, he's gotta mix it up. His boots are made for strutting.

Nevada doesn't care for the gender of clothes, but he leans more feminine with his outfits. Mans is pretty. He loves a good dress or skirt. Long, short, tight, twirly, mans will wear them all and give half the statehouse a sexuality crisis in the process.

Bold patterns are his favourite. His clothes are striking and he turns heads when he goes places. Sequins, glitter, neon, lace, camo, cutouts, he needs flair in his outfits and will often add that flair himself if he deems a garment too boring. Nevada likes to stand out in an almost ethereal way. All eyes are on him and he likes it that way. Contrast within his outfits is one of his favourite things, he uses this tool a lot to get the perfect eye catching look.

He's hot, and he likes to complement that in the way he dresses. Nevada's simplest outfits are stunning, that's just the way he is. If he's not going out, he'll typically throw on shorts and a camisole shirt, often dressing it up a little with fishnets and his signature headpiece.

Leather pants. This man owns many.

His jewellery collection is impressive. He owns many silver pieces, huge and expressive and so him. He loves dramatic earrings, dangly and colourful and vibrant. Always wearing at least 3 bracelets on each wrist. He loves a fancy choker too, delicate and elegant, to complement his over the top outfits. He has multiple pairs of dice earrings. He just does.

Owns many fancy sunglasses. Huge extravagant sunglasses. He likes to pull them down and judge people. It's very effective.

Nevada's a drag queen, I want ya'll to know that, but that's a whole other post for much later.

He loves a good pair of evening gloves, this man owns many a formal dress that fits just right with a long elegant evening glove.

He owns SEVERAL feather boas, y'all can't tell me he doesn't. He whacks California people with the end. He doesn't wear these often but he loves it when he finds the perfect outfit to pair a boa with, mans looks so good.

Nevada wears a thick faux fur coat if he's going to a cold place, think Cruella de Vil style. Nevada is dramatic and he loves it. His favourite aesthetic is 'I killed my husband'.

However being a girlboss is a full time job and Nevada gets tired sometimes. He's workin' nine to five slaying, mans has gotta relax.

This is where Nevada dips into the other half of his closet.

✨Skrunkly✨

Oversized hoodies. Ratty sweatpants. Far too big faded t-shirts that slide off one shoulder. Scrunchies on his wrists instead of bracelets. Fuzzy socks. Fluffy sliders. He stole all of these from other states.

This man owns many comfy and luxurious dressing gowns, he lounges in them like he is a goddess.

As he should, this man is a baddie all day every day.

Your honour, I love him.

#ben brainard #welcome to the statehouse #welcome to the table #wttsh #wttt #the table #i love him #bites him #this man slays #he is a girlboss #he gives half the country a sexuality crisis just by existing #good for him #im feral for pretty men and he is a pretty man #mwah i love him #what a baddie

[prvtocol]

@sayitan : hc + 👗 for a clothes-themed headcanon | Thematic Headcanons. ᠂ ⚘ ˚

One’s clothing style demarcates what subdivision or sector an individual works for in the RDA. SecOps are outfitted in standard camo and gear. Miners and construction workers are fitted for manual labor. Corporates are fussy in their standard office wear with men even wearing white button-down shirts, ties, and blazers. Meanwhile, scientists are the most casual often wearing t-shirts and khakis under traditional lab coats. 

Brianne’s wardrobe is strictly corporate. Modest work dresses, silk blouses, pencil skirts, cigarette trousers, and high heels. All neutral in color. All designer labels. The highest quality due to her class and position. However, one will often see her wearing an RDA-issued lab coat thrown over her attire to proudly display her connection to SciOps. 

This all changes when she becomes a Recom. The “capsule wardrobe” she meticulously curated for her Pandora tour is no longer usable because of her larger size. Clothing choices are relegated to the limited variety stocked for Recoms and Avatars, the latter more appropriate considering. She has no choice but to dress down in RDA-logo t-shirts and (sometimes khaki) trousers, but at least she has a similar style lab coat to before to throw on over it (thanks to the Avatar Program reboot for fitting their scientists with them). On her feet are a pair of trainers/sneakers or lace-up boots. She dislikes it for its lack of corporate professionalism but at least it's comfortable.

With the Resistance, she is still wearing what's left of this wardrobe, but the RDA logos on her few t-shirts significantly fade over time. Her style does not change again until much later (when she slowly adopts more of her mate's clan's (life)style).

Some art of her corporate style is under the cut:

(thanks to @badtrigger for bringing her to life! ♡)

#sayitan #⚘ ˚◞ answers ◞ 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝑜𝒻𝒻𝒾𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓊𝓉𝑜𝓂𝒶𝓉𝒾𝒸 𝓇𝑒𝓅𝓁𝓎. #⚘ ˚◞ headcanon ◞ 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝓌𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊. #(( ty for sending this one too ;; ))

[psychotic4ghost]

Blood Under The Bridge A story by Psychotic4Ghost

Chapter 3 - Test Your Luck

TW: Strong Language ♡ gross men ♡ ♡ Masterlist | chapter 2 | chapter 4 ♡ WC: 2.3k ♡ A/N: Chapter two took some effort, I wasn't vibing with it in the first half so I ended up rewriting it a few times. But I hope you guys enjoy!

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Harsh beeping awoke Mykie from her surprisingly peaceful slumber. She didn’t expect to sleep as well as she did, the foreignness of the new room worried her but she slept through her anxieties like no other. 

She slapped the alarm clock next to her, silencing it as she made eye contact with it. 5:00am. Drills started in exactly one hour, it gave her enough time to shower, brush her teeth and pull back her hair. 

After slicking about 50 bobby pins into her hair, she was finally ready. She sported a tight fitted black tank top, her military grade camo pants, black combat boots and her new dog tags. She had her father’s dog tags back at Price’s apartment with the rest of her stuff. She kept them wrapped in packing paper, why she didn’t toss them was a mystery to even herself. 

5:30am, training was going to begin in 30 minutes and she wanted to be early. She headed for the gym where she was told to meet, thinking she could get in a few reps with the weights before training started, she pushed past the indoor gym doors. 

Unfortunately for her own nerves and sanity, Ghost had the same idea. He was also wearing a form-fitted black t-shirt but he wore black camo pants instead of the brown ones Mykie wore. His shoes were also combat boots but they looked much different than hers, more tactical. He, of course, wore his mask only this time it was a normal black balaclava with a skull print on it instead of the plastic skull. 

His head snapped towards the door the moment she pushed it open, he set the weights he was curling down on the floor, placing his hands on his knees, making eye contact with her from where he sat. 

“S-sorry, I didn’t know you were here already. I can go wait outside.” Mykie pointed with her thumbs to the door behind her. 

Ghost shook his head, “Isa’ public space.” He picked the weight back up and continued his reps. Mykie watched as his biceps bulged as he pulled the weight towards his shoulder. She had to tear her eyes away forcefully before he noticed, hoping he hadn’t already noticed. 

Mykie opted for the bench press, as it was farthest away from him, even though it was still only a few feet away. She piled on the weights she needed and laid down, beginning her reps. “1…2…3” Mykie mouthed to herself, small noises left her as she did. She hadn’t noticed her audience until she reracked the bar and sat up to see Ghost staring her down. “S’ not nice to stare.” She said as she wiped the beads of sweat from her forehead with a rag she brought. 

“40 kilos? That’s it?” Ghost ignored her first remark. 

“It’s a warm-up.” She snapped back harsher than she intended. 

Ghost didn’t speak after that, Soap and Gaz had just opened the doors before he could. The rest of the team joined them soon after. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“I’m Lieutenant Ghost. Make it through these courses n’ you’ll make it jus’ fine ‘ere. Don’t make it, and you can kiss this team goodbye. Understood?” Ghost spoke in a deep and stern voice to the group of new recruits, Mykie included. 

“Yes sir!” The whole group of recruits shouted clear and loudly back to their Lieutenant. 

Training had started, they started indoors for their weights, push-ups, and sit-ups. Next was outdoor training, running and the obstacles. Mykie had been doing exceptionally well and it irked Ghost, everyone could tell. Soap and Gaz were definitely having a laugh about it too. Her times were almost perfect and some where even better than Ghost’s himself, which she didn’t know of course. 

“Next course is the 13 km uphill run. This ‘nd the dive usually determines who won’t be staying.” Ghost glared at Mykie, his eye blacking making him ten times more intimidating. 

The course began, kitted out in full gear and weapons, Mykie took off up the hill. Right off the bat, Ghost thought she would exert all her energy at the start with how she was moving, she picked up speed at an alarming rate. Of course Price was watching, as well as the other boys. Price knew what she was capable of but even he was worried with her start. 

Her speed slowed to a medium run, her breathing was calm and controlled as she ran. She could feel the burn already building in her calves from the rest of the day catching up to her. One soldier took off past her, he was moving much faster than anyone else on the field, taking the attention of the higher ups on the team. 

“He’s gonna wear himself out.” Soap mentioned as he watched. 

“Probably just wants the fastest time.” Gaz added. The team was in a jeep ready to move as the group got closer and closer. 

“If ‘e knows what’s best for ‘em, he’ll start to slow down. Thought Jamison was about to pull the same stunt.” Ghost continued the thought the group had.

“I knew she wouldn’t. She’s making the best time so far. What was your time, Soap?” Price asked from the passenger seat. 

“46 minutes, sir.” Soap answered, he was the fastest on their squad

“Think she can beat ya?” Price questioned more.

“I do sir, she’s smaller than me, more nimble.” Soap chuckled with his response. 

Time felt like it was moving incredibly slow for Mykie. This run couldn’t have been any worse. She knew Ghost and Price were watching her; judging her. Well at least Ghost was judging her and that’s what scared her. She shook her head, ridding the thoughts about Ghost as she continued to trudge forward. 40 minutes had passed as Mykie checked her watch. The one soldier who sprinted past her had fallen way behind now, he was a slug compared to the others. Mykie was alone in her part of the hill, no other soldier had been as conservative as she was of her strength. All those days she was forced to hike the rocky mountains of England, every one her father could drag her to, was paying off as she saw the finish line. 

The entirety of the 141 squad sat in the air conditioned jeep, waiting for the recruits to finish the test. 

“45 minutes and 15 seconds Jamison.” Price said as he scribbled her time down on the clipboard he held. “I think that’s faster than our boy Soap.”

“Aye sir. By 1 minute and 13 seconds.” Soap confirmed.

“Aye look at your quick math!” Gaz joked as he earned a slap to the arm by Soap. Mykie would have laughed if she wasn’t so exhausted she felt like throwing up right then and there. She held it together though as she trudged over to the med tent. 

“Not bad soldier.” Ghost was now standing in the tent, leaning against one of the medical lockers by the door.

“Not sure if I should say ‘thanks’ with the amount of death glares ya give me.” Mykie threw back her water bottle as the nurse took her blood pressure. 

“Suit yourself.” Ghost turned on his heel and left before she could say anything else. The spot he occupied was quickly replaced by Soap who was nearly bouncing up and down.

“Can’t believe ya beat me time!” He beamed, definitely more happy than others on the team. Gaz joined a moment later to congratulate her too.

The underwater retrieval and the two swimming trials were scheduled for later that day. Mykie took the little down time she had to munch on some light snacks and ultimately catch her breath. She sat alone in the pool room. The room consisted of two pools; a pool that started shallow and slowly dropping to about 2 meters and the second pool that started at half a meter, dropping to 3.5 meters. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Mykie saw two recruits coming her way. “Hey, noobie, just cause you beat our times on the hill, doesn’t mean you're gonna make it. You’re weak, remember that.” One of them spat, literally, a glob of spit landed on Mykie’s brown combat boot, staining the brown leather darker. 

“I’m not here for placements. I’m already in. They’re just gauging my abilities, rookie.” Mykie fought back, she stood, nearly matching their height as they were much shorter men. “Captain Price already has my name written down.”

“Oh you’re just cocky, there’s no way they’d actually let a female on the team” He continued. 

“She sleeps ‘n the same hall as me. Not some bunk like you lot.” Soap’s booming voice interjected into the conversation. “She’s right too, we’re just gaugin’ her.”

“You’ve got to be pulling our leg sir.” The other now spoke up.

“No way. Mykie’s on our team. My team.” Soap said as he put emphasis on the fact that she wasn’t joining the outside forces of the 141, but rather the 141.

“I don’t believe you.” The first one scoffed as they walked away.

“Thanks, Soap. I expected to be picked on. Gender and what not.” Mykie sighed as she sat back down on the bench.

“Not a worry, Yoo won’t even be ‘round git like ‘em much anyway. You’ll be with us, and you’ll show ‘em who's boss when yoo become Sergeant too!” Soap clapped his hand over her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze before joining the boys again. 

The next tasks were about to start. The recruits were in full gear as they all entered the pool. Treading water and swimming laps was the first bit of the course and then last was underwater item retrieval, something Mykie wasn’t too excited for. The gear she wore was rubbing into her skin, the water added what felt like 5 kilos to her already heavy gear. She was keeping herself above the water just fine but she could feel herself growing tired. The buzzer for the timer she forgot was counting finally sounded as she let herself drop. She sank till her feet touched the bottom before she kicked off one last time to the surface. 

“You seemed almost at peace out there. Totally zenned out.” Soap chuckled as he reached down and pulled the large backpack from her back.

“I was struggling. That shit is so heavy already but add water?” Mykie was now in the more shallow bit of the pool, her feet hit the bottom, leaving the top portion of her chest out of the water. 

“Well you definitely didn’t show it. The other rookies were all fighting for their lives, some looked like they needed to shite.” Gaz let out a snort as he remembered the looks on their faces. 

“I don’t want to do the retrieval, I’m gonna drown.” Mykie sighed as she rested her arms on the edge of the pool. 

“You don’t wear the bag for this part. Just your plate carrier and holsters.” Gaz informed her as she rested her head over her arms. 

“Thank fuck.” She sighed. The retrieval was about to start, Soap lugged her bag away from the pool side and the two boys took their seats as the next task began. The pool was about 3.5 meters down, it wasn’t incredibly deep but it was enough to feel the pressure build in your ears. The item they needed to retrieve was a weapons bag. It was full to the brim with guns, all larger guns like AKs and ARs, some handguns and even explosives. Price told her none of them were armed but it was still going to be a really heavy bag to lug from that distance. 

The timer sounded and Mykie dove down. Her boots made it hard to kick the water behind her. She could see the bag at the bottom of the pool, just out of reach. It was a dark green duffle bag laying at the bottom of the pool floor. The tasks were done solo, one soldier at a time. The other soldiers dove down one by one before her, some managed to retrieve the bag while others couldn’t lift it.

Mykie finally reached the bag, she gripped the strap as it flowed softly in the water. She gave it a light tug, saving her energy for the swim up, with the bag in hand she kicked off the bottom of the pool and began her swim up. 

The boys watched intently as she glided through the water, her movements were graceful. Soap and Gaz were in shock, Price wasn’t surprised at her abilities and Ghost, well he was hard to read, even for himself. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“No way you pulled that off so smoothly, you didn’t even break a sweat!” Soap nearly shouted as he made eye contact with the sopping wet Mykie. The look she and everyone else gave made Soap realize quickly what he had said. “You…can’t sweat…under water…right.”

Gaz and Price gave a soft chuckle while Mykie breathed out her nose, a soft smile spread on her cheeks. This was nothing like she expected when joining the military; people who actually seemed human, not drones who were angry robots like how she saw her father. 

Mykie passed all her training with record times for any female on the team. Soap convinced Price to let them all hit up a local pub, which Mykie and Gaz agreed on heavily. Drinks were passed around and the night was filled with laughter and terrible jokes from Soap and Price. Gaz belly laughed with Mykie all while Ghost sat and observed.

                                                 ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

#BloodUnderTheBridge #BUTB #AStoryByPsychotic4Ghost #call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #mw2 #simon riley #ghost mw2 #simon riley call of duty #ghost call of duty #mw2 simon riley #oc #simon x mykie #ghost x mykie #mykie “siren” jamison #Mykie Jamison

[felidthing]

love the time this therapist lady described my being trans as "challenging gender norms" where at the time the only possibly gnc thing about me was having slightly longer hair than Super Normal Dude Hair (but not even that uncommon like it was alt kid tiktoker fluffy length). and, like, long-ish nails. i exclusively wore camo cargo pants and mens t-shirts. im on t and frequently pass as cis. but okay yeah im sooo nonconforming im such a wild specimen

#posts #doctors and therapists that know ur trans love to say the weirdest shit ever #this was the same woman i had a bizarre convo with that went like #[psychoanalyzing a collage i made] do you feel alientated by the way people treat you for your life choices? #me: what #her: well not everyoens trans #like GIRL WHAT ARE YOU SAYING. WHAT ARE YOU SAYING TO ME RIGHT NOW????? #also the collage was absolutely not that. i was having fun. it had surreal space themes #callout post south sound behavioral hospital in olympia WA lol. i wish i knew her last name bc i would drop it