Mini Comic-cover Snippet For @prlssprfctn Story

back from the dead

got possessed. drew this. bon appetit

dont tag as ship!

aaaaah I'm so glad your askbox is open!! Could I possibly request Gaz and some body worship please?

➸ battle ready (gaz x gn!reader)

a/n; drabble/short fic !! you didn’t specify who was getting worshipped, so i made this about gaz getting worshipped :p enjoy! — pudgy, muscular men agenda btw

[warnings; extremely suggestive, soft, fluffy.]

In all senses of it, you loved Kyle’s body. Starting from the top, you love his prominent nose, the way it dips into his philtrum and cupid’s bow, his full lips. His strong brow bone and his wrinkles along his forehead, the smile lines ingrained in his face. The two small atrophic scars below his eye is something you always adored. 

You love the way Kyle’s jaw curves, his big brown eyes. Fuck, everyone knew you couldn’t say no to the man when he would flash you a pretty smile paired with his eyes.

You trail your mouth down his neck—God, his neck. You’d never tell him in fear of him finding it stupid, but you love his throat and shoulders. Strong and full of power—his Adam’s apple jutting out against your lips. You love his throat because inside is his vocal cords—you could get drunk off of hearing him talk, hearing him laugh. Kyle’s joy means so much to you, so much more than he will ever know.

Kyle murmurs your name softly as your lips trail across his collarbone, nearing his chest. 

You love his chest, wide and muscular with a little bit of pudge (well, he has some pudge everywhere); enough muscle to overpower and destroy, enough pudge to know he’s eating right and taking care of himself. You let out a soft sigh as your lips brush against a nipple before you press soft kiss to the skin right below his left pec, following the random pattern of beauty marks and freckles across his torso.

Kyle’s hand comes up and rests on your bare back as you trail over to his arms. You love his arms—you love his everything, to be fair, but the pure power from his arms drives you out of your mind sometimes. The muscles, his strong bicep flexing and molding into his triceps—you wanna bite him, honestly. Bite him and never let go. Especially when he wears t-shirts that hug his arms.

Trailing down his upper arm, over his inner elbow to his thick forearms. The muscles and tendons underneath the skin you appreciate like they’re a fine instrument; aren’t they, for a man like Kyle? His fingers, his precision. You press kisses down his forearm, between his veins until you get to his wrist. Kyle looks at you and his eyebrows twitch as he watches your tongue and drag across his pulse point, against his wrist bone.

It sends a shudder down his spine as your lips move to his palm. Kyle’s hands are incredible; rough to the touch yet so gentle with his lover, you. His calluses scratch you gently when he rubs your back, but his palm is so careful with you. Kyle uses his hands to break so much, but he uses them to preserve you—you and your grown together home.

“What’re you doin’?”

Kyle’s voice breaks you out of your near hungry trance, your eyes flickering up to his. He isn’t upset in any sense; he’s nervous, really. Kyle adores attention, but.. you’re being so slow. Meticulous and careful. 

“Appreciating you.” You murmur against his palm, brushing your nose against it before moving over to right below his sternum. You’re met with a quiet yet sharp inhale from the man below you, the muscles tightening as you press slow, gentle kisses down his stomach. Kyle’s stomach is built yet a small layer of fat exists over his abs, the man built for force and survival instead of showing off like bodybuilders.

You catch his eyes and hold his gaze as you kiss down below his belly button before his head rolls back with his stomach tightening.

Kyle groans as you pepper kisses lower and lower. This isn’t the first time you’ve done this, and certainly will not be the last. Not by a long shot.

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

A night out in London to celebrate your friend’s upcoming marriage ends with a quick hook-up in a club’s green room. You don’t expect to see your masked man ever again, and you leave it as a one-time thing. Three years later, you’re back in England, and find yourself facing the man you walked away from at that club. He’s running a tattoo parlor just down the street from where you’re staying. Over time, your paths cross and cross again until the two of you are tangled up in a messy web. Will it last? Or will one of you walk away?

Content & Warnings (overall): canon-typical violence, PTSD, canon-typical swearing, suggestive themes, possessive / jealous / obsessive behavior, second chances, grief / mourning, strangers to lovers (graphic chapters will be marked with ** which indicates a Community Label)

Chapters: (ongoing) One // Two ** // Three // Four ** // Five // Six // Seven // Eight ** // Nine // Ten // Eleven ** // Twelve // Thirteen // Fourteen ** // Fifteen ** // Sixteen // Seventeen ** // Eighteen ** // Nineteen // Twenty // Twenty-One // Twenty-Two // Twenty-Three // Twenty-Four // Twenty-Five // Twenty-Six // Twenty-Seven // Twenty-Eight // Twenty-Nine // Thirty

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @coffeecaketornado

title banner: created with Canva

i thought i lost you (again)

Tsukishima thinks breaking up with you is the stupidest thing he's ever done.

Despite completely rationalizing it in his head, watching his grades slip as you two grow closer and closer, the only reasonable thing to do is break it off, right? You've started to become a distraction- an obstacle in his path to his future.

It's not like you two were dating for long- nothing important happened in the 6 short months you two were together. So even as his heart cracks as he watches you silently sniffle and leave his car, his grip tightens on the wheel, he sits in silence as he drives away.

His schedule becomes mundane once again, his room silent instead of the sounds of your laughter, or the videos you'd watch on your phone with the volume high enough to catch his attention. His meals continue without a dessert, ones that you'd normally bring nearly every other day. You aren't at his games, and he still finds himself scanning the crowd to search for you nonetheless.

Against his hopes and to his dismay, his grades get worse. He's losing sleep and shows up late to practice, his bitter mood bringing down the team. No one nearby is safe from a snide comment or an instigating remark.

Every single time he closes his eyes, turns around the corner- he sees you. He hears your laughter echo in the hallways, but every time he (not so subtly) quickens his pace to get a glance- you're gone. It makes him wonder if you were there in the first place.

He's nearly yanking at his hair, groaning in frustration before sighing, letting his hands flop onto his desk as he glances at the picture next to his laptop- the only photo he's ever bothered to frame. You're smiling up at him with a bouquet of flowers he'd gotten you for your birthday, gleaming as the sun highlights your eyelashes.

-

The winter chill has set in and the snow lightly falls outside your window, you almost consider calling Tsukishima to cancel your date- maybe postpone to the next weekend. Before you could even open your phone, a firm knock on the door interrupts. You're greeted by Tsukishima, a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a drink tray in another.

You take the flowers from his hand before opening the door wider to let him in, "I was just about to text you!"

"About what?"

"If we should've canceled- I didn't think you'd want to drive or even walk in this weather."

He nearly glares at you, almost offended at the proposal. "It's your birthday. Why would we postpone it?"

You shrug, looking down at the flowers before setting them down, taking his coat to hang it up before turning back to hug him.

"Thank you. The flowers are beautiful."

He lightly pouts and looks away, not quite used to how open you are with physical affection. Still, his arm pulls you closer and his face turns red, "It was the first one I saw."

A total lie, he spent a good hour and a half in the flower section before buying different sets and arranging one himself. You didn't have to know that.

You admire the flowers one more time, admiring the pinks of the roses and the light purple dusting the edges of the snapdragons, down to the way the baby's breath flows alongside the greenery. Your smile is bright as you look up at Kei, noticing how he takes his phone, the shutter of his camera snapping quickly before he deftly puts his phone away, turning to hand you the warm chai he grabbed before he came in.

-

The dried bouquet of flowers on your windowsill is haunting, menacing almost. The sight of them alone makes your stomach bubble and churn at the memories that accompanied them.

It's darker now- the petals brittle and fragile. You had made the effort to dry them and immortalize their memory- an action you've come to regret since he broke up with you. They still remain perched delicately on your windowsill, the vase tied with a ribbon and a note that had "happy birthday" in his handwriting.

The days passing by had felt like a blur- meshing together as each day grows more repetitive. Kei was no longer nearby to tease you, to berate you for getting questions on the homework, to hold your hand as you walked through the freezing winter to school. The mindless chatter and gossip from your friends went stagnant in your head, all you could think about was Kei.

Spring has come to a full bloom, the cherry blossoms littering the sidewalks as you stroll through the streets. The "ding!" of the cafe bell rings as you walk in, only to be met with a familiar head of blonde hair, slightly mussed and unkept.

You almost wonder if you should turn around and leave- but you decide against it. He broke up with you for a normal reason. His grades were slipping and he's just trying to be considerate about his future. He wasn't mean or unkind, there wasn't any reason to hold a grudge or hide from him.

You take your spot behind him in line, thankful he doesn't peek behind. It's not until he moves to the side and hears you ordering does he turn around to see you.

And oh, is he drinking in the sight. You're as beautiful as ever, hair cascading down the back of your sweater, half held up by a clip to get a clear view of your face. He can't decide if he's relieved or upset to see you. Tsukishima stares, nonetheless, tired eyes locked onto you as you happily conversate with the barista before eventually moving to the side as well, locking eyes with him.

Tsukishima is normally well kept, but today he looked- for lack of a better word, like shit. If his hair wasn't a dead giveaway, the bags under his eyes were. His shirt was crinkled and half tucked in, and his zip up had a mustard? stain on the left side.

You gave him a tight-lipped smile and a nod of acknowledgement before looking off in a different direction, and Tsukishima swears his world ended. It was what felt like the worst day of his life and the person he wanted most won't even glance at him.

It's his fault, either way.

He feels like a creep as he waits outside the cafe, waiting for a chance to talk to you. Usually quick-witted and composed, Tsukishima struggles to figure out what to even say to you. Why he wanted to talk to you in the first place.

As you exit the cafe, he watches you briskly walk away, barely noticing him as your face is buried in your phone. Kei barely thinks as he follows behind, grabbing your wrist to turn you around.

When you look back up at him, his heart swells at the sight of your face. He's stuck once again, hand dropping to his side as he looks at you as if it's the last time he'll ever see you again. It might as well be, if he fucks up this chance.

"Hi."

You look at him hesitantly before smiling, "Hey."

"How are you."

A laugh almost escapes your lips at how stiff he is, frozen still as his brown eyes bore into your soul.

"I'm doing alright, how are you?"

"Terrible."

Your brows furrow as he looks down and to the side nervously. Eyes slightly flitting as he waits for a response.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

It's silent. Painfully silent. He wishes you would start talking and never shut up like you used to, for something, any kind of response. He's never felt so strained while talking to you. He's never been this stuck, this frozen while standing in front of you.

"I should have never broken up with you. I'm sorry."

You stiffen and Kei's heart drops to his ass, knowing he definitely fucked this up. You're never going to want to talk to him again and he won't be able to see your face, tell you where you misplaced your things, to hear your voice first thing in the morning once he leaves his house. He's already gone this far- his accidental blurt put him six feet under. It probably wouldn't hurt to dig a little more.

"You weren't the problem. You're not a distraction. I've done exponentially worse in everything, and my teammates are sick of me. I haven't been able to sleep because every time I try to close my eyes; I think of you and how stupid I was to break up with you because I thought you were some stupid distraction."

You're still stunned a little bit, and to his surprise, you laugh.

He thanks whatever god might exist, because he thought he might never hear it again. He doesn't even care if it might be at him or the situation, all Tsukishima can do is admire as you catch your breath.

Tsukishima swears he might actually become religious, because instead of breaking him off and walking away, which you could have done, you invite him for another drink in the cafe.

-

Tsukishima's voice is soft as you dry his (now freshly cut) hair, "I love you."

You snicker as you throw the towel at his face, "Love me so much that you broke up with me?"

He can't argue, so he rolls his eyes and pulls you in for a kiss to shut you up.

a lil birthday present for @sunlitlemonade :’) <333

based on this fic,, pls go read all of them actually!!!!!!!

COD Men and Bad Brain Days

This is my self indulgant way of dealing with the titanic amount of stress that is making my brain whisper of the void. I will stick around, I have to much to be a menace about but why not think about how they would deal with it? Plus if my mother (derogatory) gets to outlive me? Absolutely not.

CW: Suicidal thoughts mentioned

Johnny: Froze a bit once he understands what you are saying.

"Bonnie, why? What? I don't understand?" He holds your face so tight as he flicks his gaze between your eyes.

You laugh lightly, "There is nothing to understand Johnny, sometimes my brain just starts throwing around death as an option. I've learned to tell people so they can help me keep me present. I don't want to die, and I have no plans. I just need you to know that if I randomly start crying I'm okay. I already have an appointment with my doctor and my therapist scheduled to look at my meds."

The concern doesn't leave his face as he pulls you in for a hug. Johnny is always watchful of you but it definately takes on a new level after telling him about the thoughts coming back.

Kyle: Pulled the car over the moment he realizes what you said to him and rests his head on the steering wheel.

"Thank you for telling me, what can I do for you?"

Fighting back the tears you blink and fan your eyes.

"Nothing really? My therapist challenged me to tell someone the next time these thoughts pop up, and I trust you enough to know you won't freak out." You watch him carefully take in several deep breaths before he sits upright and looks at you.

If his eyes are a bit shiny with tears? Neither of you mention it.

"Want to get a drink and sit in the sun for a bit?" He offers.

"I would love that." The tears flow this time. Kyle holds your hand until he is forced to let it go to get out of the car.

Gary: He would find you mid-breakdown because dammit you thought you were past this? It had been years since the last time your brain betrayed you like this and life was going good for once? Yes, you were under some stress but not enough to warrent this overreaction by your brain.

He would pull you into a hug as he sits next to you on the floor and hum lullabies and the randomest collecitons of songs that live inside his head. When you can finally breath without a hitch in your breath he would ask what is wrong.

"My brain is lying to me again. Saying that being dead would be easier than dealing with all this stress," you sniffle into his shoulder.

"Being dead would be easier," he observes calmly.

When you shoot him a glare because that is NOT helpful, he smiles and rubs a thumb through the tears leftover on your face.

"But I know you don't want that, and I'll keep you present and healthy. Let's get some food delivered and then go over some of the things I can take off your plate until things settle down, alright?"

When that causes a new round of tears Gary orders dinner from his phone before coaxing you to the couch with the promise of your favorite show (He can't stand it but knows it will help.)

Simon: The hug he would give you after you hold him? Soul altering. He holds you until you feel real again and presses a kiss to your head. If you find something helpful he asks that you share because he has dealt with his own share of suicidal thoughts ravaging his already messed up mind.

He starts picking up tasks around the house, starting the shower or making dinner, as a way to help you. He checks in at least once a day. He isn't overbearing about it, knowing that the fact you told him is a huge sign of trust and he wouldn't dare abuse it.

John: Oh this man, he would be calling your doctor and therapist and setting up an appointment for you the instant you fell asleep for one of those exhaustion naps. He would book you for a hair cut, a massage, and to get your nails done before the week is out.

He's lost good friends to suicide and the idea that you might disappear? That your thoughts might get to loud to hear that he loves you? He would never recover if he lost you like that. John makes you cry again when he explains everything he has set up for you but he shows his love through actions and these are things he can control. If he could mount a full scale invasion on your brain to kick out whatever makes you think of death as an option he would in a heartbeat.

Masterlist

i'm thinking about jason vs white streak and a helmet that doesn't cover his entire face, and the absolute missed comedy of the entirety of crime alley thinking that they are getting beaten up by a very old man.

Average crime alley guy: yeah and then he stopped wearing the full face cover and his hair is like white underneath it's so weird--

other guy: wait. like. white? Like. LIke old person white?

Average crime alley guy: oh my god. oh my goooood. he uses a voice modulator to hide that he's approximately 98 years old. mr hood sir do you need help crossing the street?

Jason, 19: ?????????????

jason then realizes the convenience of being able to take off the mask and no one realize it's him because they're looking for someone older than alfred and just goes along with it and tells increasingly made up stories about being young in the 40s while shooting peoples kneecaps out.