Hiiii stranger :3 my name is Sea, thanks for clicking on my account!
𝕀𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕠
I’m all over in the place when it comes to my interests lol ★ I’m alternative and into alt music, gaming, making music, anime, sci-fi shows, conspiracy theories, horror, and writing.
DNI: Minors, bigots
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕞𝕖!
⟡ I’m a Black American ❤️🔱🖤
⟡ I loveeee Fall Out Boy specifically Patrick Stump (you’re gonna see a lot of him on here). I’ve been listening to them since I was 12 and can name 80% of their songs without looking at the titles. Also, I have the same birthday as Patrick Stump :D #taurus
⟡ I practice spirituality and am heavy into manifestation/astral projection/astrology/witchcraft/tarot but I’m not religious. I post my tarot card readings on here occasionally
⟡ I’m a Taurus Sun, Leo Moon, and Gemini Rising. Have fun psychoanalyzing me
⟡ Purple is my favorite color 💜
⟡ Girl Kisser ❤️🧡🤍💖💜
⟡ Neurodivergent
⟡ I use they/she pronouns and identify as genderqueer :3
⟡ I’m 420 friendly 🍃
⟡ I primarily use tumblr on mobile so sorry if the formatting’s weird 💔
⟡ I mostly come on here to read self insert fanfics (I love being the main character <3)
⟡ I’m always up to making mutuals and talking with new people :3
𝔽𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕠𝕞𝕤/𝕀𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕤:
⟡not all are present bc there’s too many, this will be periodically updated⟡
Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Gravity Falls, Alice in Borderland, Delicious in Dungeon, Genshin Impact, Paramore, Dead By Daylight, Saw, Nintendo/Super Mario Galaxy, The Walking Dead Game, Fortnite, Assasination Classroom, Smosh, Resident Evil, Dead Meat Kill Counts, Creeppasta, SCP’s, Waterparks (the band)
Western Astrology, playing the bass, tarot, painting, equality, outer space, science
Something's terribly wrong with your new coworker, yet no one else will see it. They all love him. He's somewhat shy, but friendly. He arrives early and leaves last. He's always lending a hand to everyone in need. You've heard the occasional gossip about his innocent, yet handsome looks.
Are you the only one who can see his unholy form? The many eyes, the horns, the ever-changing blight that makes up his blasphemous appearance?
The fiend immediately noticed that you stare at him with terrified eyes, unlike the rest of them. Instead of being afraid he's been discovered, he seems to enjoy this little secret, terribly so. He can't help but taunt you every day, an almost flirtatious mockery that keeps you on your toes. Flashing his sharp teeth, flicking his long tongue whenever you pass by.
"Why am I paired with him again," you groan, stretching out your feet in despair. "Can't anyone else train him?"
"You're creating a hostile work environment, (Y/N)," your manager scolds.
"I wish we'd get along," your coworker sighs, placing a warm hand on your shoulder. You glance up at his deformed grin. "After all, you're my favorite."
i will read whatever you write. we are starving for patrick fics :(
hope this counts as “whatever” lol it’s something super quick i wrote a few days ago bc i still can’t get over patrick cutting his hair!!! anyway, hope u like it & it satisfies ur hunger for patrick fics lol i’m working on more fics too, stay tuned 👀 love u!!! thx for reading 🖤
This Isn’t a Haircut, It’s an Emotional Rollercoaster.
(Patrick Stump x fem!Reader)
summary: Helping Patrick cut his hair turns into more than expected.
warnings: none. Just implied intimacy / fade to black.
Fanfic type: One shot; slice of life; established relationship; fluff i think (help idk how to label the stuff i write anymore lol)
“Are you sure about this?” you asked, frowning.
Patrick gave you a small smile and nodded.
“Like… really sure?” you pressed.
“____, if you keep asking, I’m gonna start second-guessing it,” he warned, sliding his hands to your waist and pulling you closer.
You ran your fingers through his beard and then up into his hair—the same hair that hadn’t seen scissors in months.
You squeezed it between your hands, pouting. “I just love it so much.”
Patrick let out a soft laugh, muffling it against your shoulder.
“You’re obsessed with it, babe,” he murmured, still close to you. “If you love it, let it go.”
You scrunched your nose in disapproval.
He sighed dramatically when he saw your face and rested his forehead against yours.
“Baby… if this keeps growing, the X-Men are gonna recruit me thinking I’m Beast,” he confessed under his breath. “And not even the cool version.”
A laugh burst out of you, echoing off the bathroom walls before you straightened again.
“You are so dramatic, Stump,” you said, rolling your eyes even though you were still smiling. “Sit down. And just so you know, you’re turning me into a criminal. Cutting your hair is basically a styling felony.”
Patrick obeyed. “And I’m the dramatic one?” he shot back, amused.
He turned and sat in front of the mirror, forearms resting against the edge of the sink. Only then did the space fully register—the tiny bathroom, the harsh white light falling straight from above.
You stayed behind him, stalling for a few more seconds.
He caught your gaze in the mirror. “Honey, I swear—it’ll grow back.”
“You can’t promise that… you’re in your forties now. Your dad’s genes could kick in any second and you could go fully bald.”
This time Patrick laughed, shaking his head.
“What? Why—? That was cruel, ____,” he said, staring at you in disbelief. “Like… c’mon. Low blow.”
“Just kidding, I love you,” you laughed, bending down to his height to hug him. “Okay,” you muttered more to yourself as you grabbed the scissors. “Here we go”
You stared at them for a second in your hands.
“No—I’m starting with the beard. That’s better for my emotional stability.” You set the scissors back on the sink and picked up the clippers instead.
You nudged the chair back and stepped in front of him.
“…if that’s okay with you,” you added, shifting closer and settling yourself on his lap.
Patrick’s hands flew to your waist on instinct, steadying you like you might tip over.
“Whoa— girl, you tryin’ to kill me or what?” he teased, already a little flushed.
You flashed a satisfied grin, taking his chin between your fingers. “Occupational necessity,” you replied with mock grandiosity.
“I really hope my barber never hears about this.”
You couldn't help but laugh at his goofy comment. Shaking your head as you flicked the clippers on, adjusting your position over him—this time with more focus than provocation. The hum of the motor filled the small bathroom.
“Okay. Stay still,” you warned, leaning in closer. “This requires surgical precision.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, overly obedient, though his hands stayed on your waist—still, steady, present.
You pressed the clippers to his beard for the first time and guided them carefully downward, taking off the bulk.
Whenever you needed a better angle, you tilted his face slightly with your fingers.
“It’s kinda scary how focused you are right now…” he murmured. “Also my chin itches.”
You huffed through your nose, holding back a laugh.
“Don’t talk,” you warned. “This is a high-risk zone.”
“Got it.”
You kept trimming, evening everything out with patient strokes. When you reached the sides, you deliberately left them untouched—creating the faint outline of pseudo-sideburns.
“Oh—”
Patrick’s eyes widened, and his grip on your waist tightened. “What do you mean ‘oh’?”
You shifted just enough so he could see himself in the mirror.
“It’s like going back in time. Cute,” you smiled, brushing your fingers over the “sideburns.”
Patrick frowned at his reflection, one eyebrow lifting.
“Cute?” he repeated, unconvinced. “I have no idea what I was thinking when I had those…”
“Shhh. They were iconic, and you looked adorable,” you defended. “Those sideburns were the first thing that made me fall for you.”
“If you say so,” he muttered, giving his reflection a skeptical look. “...”
You rolled your eyes, smiling, and trimmed the sides properly this time until everything blended clean and even.
When you finished, you studied him for a few quiet seconds. Then you brushed your fingers over his newly shaped beard, flicking away a couple of stray hairs.
“What’s that look for?” he asked, curious, running a hand over his jaw.
“It’s the: 'How is it possible that such a beautiful man exists on this Earth, and how am I lucky enough to call him my husband?' look,” you answered, leaning in to plant a kiss on his lips.
When you pulled back, his cheeks were faintly pink. It didn’t matter that you’d been together for over ten years—he still blushed when you said things like that.
He let out a shy little laugh and leaned in to steal another kiss.
“Thanks,” he said softly, almost embarrassed. “I’m just tryin’ to keep up with you, that’s all.”
“Oh, shut up,” you laughed, setting the clippers down and picking up the scissors.
“Hey, don’t laugh,” he protested gently, smiling in that small, crooked way. “I mean it… you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. No contest.”
Your chest tightened at the sincerity in his voice.
“God, stop. I can’t focus,” you warned. “I’m gonna kiss you stupid if you keep talking like that.”
“Okay, okay.” He raised both hands in surrender. “Just one more. I love you too much. You’re, like… the actual sun in my life.”
You didn’t answer with words.
You leaned down instead, resting your forehead against his, and pressed a slow kiss to his lips. Short. Soft. Enough to say everything you weren’t going to say out loud.
Only then did you carefully adjust the scissors in your fingers and step off his lap, moving around behind him.
For a second, you hesitated.
One hand settled on his shoulder while the other reached for the comb. In the mirror, you caught the image of both of you: him still and trusting; you focused, carrying that mix of affection and responsibility that only showed up in moments that mattered.
The first cut was small. Precise. Just a single lock slipping soundlessly to the floor.
“Oh no. Farewell, my sweet prince,” Patrick said in a high, overly dramatic voice, like he was narrating a tragic cartoon.
You gasped in mock offense. “Hey. I’m suffering back here,” you sighed theatrically, snipping another careful section. “Why are we even doing this?” you asked, half joking, half not.
He shrugged, watching you through the mirror. “It’s just been… kind of a pain lately. It’s, like… straight-up unmanageable onstage, y’know? And I sweat. A lot. It’s not cute.”
“You’ve always been a very sweaty boy,” you teased fondly.
“Yeah, tell me about it” he huffed. “But with it long? It’s worse. It sticks to my neck, my forehead… it’s a whole situation. I’m out there fighting Pete and my own hair at the same time. I can’t be battling two villains per show, I'm just a man.”
You snorted, shaking your head, and kept cutting—your movements growing more confident, more fluid. The soft rhythm of the scissors blended with his voice, with the faint hum of the apartment beyond the bathroom door.
In the mirror, Patrick watched you with that soft, trusting smile. Completely at ease under your hands.
A few minutes later, the shape was there. Clean. Balanced. You trimmed the fringe carefully and used the clippers at the nape of his neck for the final touches, focused and steady.
“Done?” he asked, smiling, eyes bright
You switched off the clippers and stepped back slightly, studying him through the mirror.
“Done,” you confirmed at last, running a hand through his hair and messing it up just a little.
Patrick straightened slowly in the chair, sliding a hand through his newly cut hair, testing the texture—like he was reacquainting himself with it. A sideways grin tugged at his mouth.
“Okay. Yeah. I feel lighter already,” he laughed, standing and brushing stray hairs off his shirt. “You like it?”
You tilted your head, scanning him from head to toe, broughting a hand to your mouth, biting your lower lip.
His smile faltered.
“Wait— Y-You don’t like it?” he asked, suddenly worried, turning toward the mirror again.
You finally let yourself smile. “God, you’re hot.”
His shoulders dropped instantly in relief.
“Thanks,” he said, stepping closer with a playful grin. “But nah. You’re hot.”
He slid his hands to your waist and pulled you in against him.
“Rawr,” you murmured, arching your brows slightly.
Patrick let out a low laugh, shaking his head.
“Thanks for cutting my hair, hon—”
You pressed your index finger to his lips, stopping him mid-sentence.
“Shhh,” you said with a teasing smile, enjoying the confusion on his face. “I can think of other ways you could thank me.”
Both your hands slid to the nape of his neck, fingers threading through his now-short honey hair as you leaned in to gently bite his lower lip.
Patrick froze. Completely. Like his brain needed a few extra seconds to process what you’d just implied.
A nervous, crooked, entirely adorable smile slowly spread across his face. He ran a hand through his new fringe, still looking a little stunned.
“Oh… so there’s a catch..” He blushed. Truly. All the way to his ears.
He tried to recover. He failed.
Your fingers found his hair again. He closed his eyes for a second. Completely surrendered.
“…okay,” he exhaled. “But I gotta shower first. Since I’m, y’know, covered in hair.”
“What a coincidence… I need to shower too.”
He wonders—dazed, entirely doomed—if he’ll survive the night with you this close.
“Girl… you’re a maneater,” he murmured, half laughing, half hiding his face against your shoulder like that might lower the intensity of the moment. “God… you’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days.”
Patrick swallowed before stepping forward, gripping your waist and lifting you off the ground with an ease you hadn’t expected.
“Patrick—!” you squealed, your voice breaking into a surprised laugh as he lifted you off the ground.
He looked at you again, incredulous, still flushed red to his ears, and then he started to laugh—a giddy, breathless sound, part shy, part completely enchanted.
“Damn… what am I supposed to do with you? You’ve got me completely undone.”
He pulled you closer and kissed you—less clumsy than he feared, more eager than he’d ever admit.
Without another word, the door closed behind you with a soft click.
Steam slowly fogged up the mirror.
Clothes fell to the floor one by one, between muffled laughter and kisses that promised that for the next hour, nothing in the world mattered except the two of you.
guess who woke up to actual snow today! in honor of that, have a fluffy snowfight that turns into a very steamy shower<3
You and Gerard were both freezing cold, fingertips red and stiff. You’d been out for a walk in the year’s first snow when he decided—out of nowhere—that the best possible idea was to shove a handful of it straight down the back of your neck. Of course you fired one right back down his. Thirty seconds later he tackled you into a snowbank and you both hit the ground in a laughing, tangled mess.
A very cold, very ridiculous playfight.
You ran for the house, half-soaked and breathless, shoes kicked off in the entryway, dropping coats and scarves in a frantic trail. You were still giggling when he cupped your icy face and crashed his mouth onto yours, kissing you deeply.
“I love you,” he said against your lips, words muffled. “Let’s get warm.”
He pulled you down to the bathroom in his basement, peeling clothes off as you went. You were shivering and laughing with every layer; he just watched, eyes huge, like he still couldn’t believe you were real, even after all the times you’d been naked together.
The shower water hit like heaven, hot and stinging at first. His hands started at your shoulders, palms sliding down your arms—slow and intimate. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close, and kissed him soft and deep, tongues dancing gracefully.
Your hands drifted down his chest, over the soft curve of his stomach; his breath stuttered when you wrapped your fingers around his length, twitching, already half-hard. You gave him a few slow strokes, his forehead dropping to your shoulder with a shaky exhale. He answered by slipping his hand between your thighs, finding your clit and circling it with the gentlest touch, pressing warm, open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder.
You touched each other like that for ages—deliberate, tender, like the only thing that mattered was making the other feel safe and wanted. It wasn’t about chasing anything, it was about comfort, about love.
When he finally pressed you gently to the tile and slid inside, it was slow and easy, the perfect fit. He hooked your leg over his hip, lips pressed to yours, rocking into you with those deep, unhurried strokes. His thick cock dragged along every sensitive spot as he pulled you close to meet him with every thrust, guiding you exactly where you both needed.
The build-up was slow, almost maddening, so when you finally shattered it hit twice as hard. You came with a soft gasp against his mouth, trembling hard, milking him with your walls in long pulses. He groaned your name, palms gripping your ass even harder as he followed right after, pulsing hot and deep with every shudder.
You stayed under the water until it started to cool, then he wrapped you in the biggest towel, peppering your face in kisses. You stumbled into his bed still half-wet, curling into him immediately under the covers—his chest warm against your back, fingers tracing lazy figures over your stomach.
Snow continued to fall quietly outside the window as you drifted to sleep, feeling nothing but safe, stupidly in love and finally, finally warm.
okay morning market was literally the cutest thing oml. need more butch frankie x ditzy reader plsssssssss
Oh you're so sweetttt ♡
Here are some Butch!Frank x ditzy reader headcanons I've been thinking about:
Pda is tricky due to it being 2001, but she shows her affection in small ways. Carrying bags, opening doors, offering her jacket, making sure you get home safely, etc. Your safety is her top priority.
You are an Olive Garden princess. Frankie broke as hell, but will scrape enough cash to treat you to an all-you-can-eat salad and breadstick combo at Olive Garden, while simultaneously complaining it's not real Italian.
Honestly, you don’t really understand her music or the hardcore scene. Like at all. But you watch with heart-eyes every time she’s in the pit. This bitch hits hard and does karate in the pit, no doubt. BUT! She’s always the first to pick someone up when they go down, brushing them off with a quick, “You good?”
Ohhh, you’re her biggest cheerleader, the sunshine in her life!! You might not understand her music, but you’ll be front row in your low-rise jeans, shell choker, with a tight Pencey Prep baby tee screaming.
She still lives with her parents, so her beat-up '95 Civic is the sex hot spot.
The rare nights she has the house to herself, she fucks you into a stupor. Prone bone with the strap, bicep around your neck, deep thrusts that make you forget your own name. “Look at you… can’t even talk. Baby’s so dumb on my cock already.”
She loves your eyes. Wide, clueless, impossibly sweet. Loves them even more in bed. The second she hits that spot and you look at her all stunned and helpless, it triggers something in her. That doe-in-the-headlights stare makes her want to shove deeper, keep you stuffed until you’re shaking. “Fuck… yeah. Don’t look away—keep lookin’ at me like that.”
Loves smoking with you. Loves when that lil bimbo brain goes to complete mush.
HUGE KISSER, fucking slobbery mess when she kisses. Complete dog. Especially when the two of you are high. She’s all over you. Palming your tits, telling you how pretty you are while she practically eats your face. Loves how you always taste like Victoria Secret Candy Baby lip gloss and Juicy Fruit gum.
| The Z-Team finding out Waterboy has a girlfriend
★ SFW, mentions of reader being shorter than Waterboy, pet names, slight Prism and Waterboy friendship if you squint, etc.
“Are you sure? I mean yeah I noticed he’s like… well he’s not as slouchy.” Malevola and Prism stood across from Waterboy watching him smile at his phone which wasn’t in its usual water protective case.
“Girl I swear to you. He’s got to have a girlfriend or something. And look at the way he’s smiling at his phone.” Prism tilts her head slightly and watches him more intensely.
“Are you guys talking about waterboy?” Invisigal walks over to them with her hands in her pockets.
“Do you think he has a girlfriend?” Malevola tilts her head too watching as waterboy covers his mouth to stifle a giggle while typing on his phone.
“Why you interested?” Invisigal smirks.
“Well he is kinda cute but not exactly my type.”
“I think he has a girlfriend. Have you noticed he’s like not slouching, he doesn’t stutter as much, and look at his hair… it’s like… not that wet?”
His hair was noticeably more wavy and didn’t stick to his face as much.
“I did notice he’s not as wet but I figured it was because he’s got better controls of his powers since joining the team.” Invisigal tilts her head to analyze waterboy further and then shrugs.
─── ─── ───Ｏ（≧∇≦）Ｏ──── ─── ──
A few from the Z-team were in the break room heating their food up, grabbing some coffee, raiding the vending machine, etc. Waterboy sat at one of the tables looking out the window.
“Not hungry?” Sonar asks as he places a roach in between the buns of his burger.
“H-huh? Oh no… well yes! I am! Just waiting on m-my food!” Waterboy doesn’t even look at Sonar. His eyes practically glued to the window.
“Looking out for the doordasher?” Punch-Up raises an eyebrow.
“N-no! Hah! No! I forgot my food at home so my-“ before he could finish his sentence the door to the break room creaks open making waterboys head turn fast. The look of excitement made everyone else turn their heads and there you were. Peeking your head through with a brown paper bag in your hand.
“I wasn’t sure this was the right room.” You said and you smiled when waterboy stood up eruptly and practically ran to you. He wrapped his arms around you and you giggled as you stood on your tippy toes to wrap your arms around him. “You happy to see me or are you happy to finally receive your food?”
“Don’t be silly. I’m happy to see you! I didn’t expect to see you in here. I thought I’d have to go meet you in the f-front.”
Was than a full coherent sentence? A question on everyone’s mind.
“I thought so too but they said I could come up and hand it to you!” You two finally let go of each other and you handed him the brown bag. He smiled and placed a kiss on your head.
“Thank you so much! I felt really bad to make you come all this way.” He rubbed his neck.
“Please it was nothing. Plus it was an excuse to see you anyway so why would I complain. I am however running late. My lunch break is almost over. See you in a bit okay?” You smiled and pulled him down by his collar and placed a quick kiss on his lips.
“Bye baby I’ll see you!” He placed another quick kiss on your head and opened the door to let you out and he smiled from ear to ear as you walked away waving at him. Once you were out of sight everyone jumped to ask questions.
“Baby?!”
“Was that a kiss?!”
“No fucking way waterbitch bagged a woman like that… right?!”
“I fucking knew it! Yes! You owe me 30 bucks bitch.” Prism smirks and puts her hand out towards invisigal in which she groaned in return before slamming 30 dollars in her hand.
“Uh… s-sorry guys… I kinda forgot you all were there… uh…” Waterboys face was beet red after realizing his team had seen him share such a moment with his girlfriend.
“Well? Who is she? How much are you paying her?” Flambae scoffs.
“P-pay?! Nothing at all! Well I guess I do pay for dinner… but she’s obviously my girlfriend!” He was quick to be defensive.
“Is that why you haven’t been… so wet recently? One would think he’d get wetter being around a girl like that.” Sonar laughed.
“Is it because she makes you more confident?” Punch-up places another 30 bucks in Prisms hand.
“Y-yes! She’s been great! I haven’t been this dry since… well since I came out the womb I assume.”
“I fucking knew it! I knew waterboy had it in him! Never question me ever again bitches.”
─── ─── ───Ｏ（≧∇≦）Ｏ──── ─── ──
| Authors Note: Wrote this as quickly as possible before I go to sleep and forget about this scenario
Your boyfriend Ray is a total sweetheart; he always made sure to take you out on dates regularly and had flowers delivered to your door every other weekend. He made sure that you were well spoiled and pampered. However, like anyone, he has his quirks. Maybe even a few of them could be considered red flags depending on who you ask.
Ray was really stubborn about not having dates at night, always making some excuse why you two couldn’t stay out a bit later. He was like a teenager who was not trying to stay out after their curfew. On top of that there would be days—no, weeks—when it seemed like he was just trying to do everything in his power to avoid you. You’d call all worried, and he’d give you some half-hearted reason why he hasn’t bothered in almost 4 weeks to come to see you. “I’ve been feeling like I’ve got the flu or something. Don’t want to get my baby sick.” He’d say it oh-so nonchalantly, his voice not even a bit raspy or nasally.
So, one day you decided to pay him a visit, completely unannounced. You pulled up to his apartment complex and started to hike up the stairs to his floor. You reached his door and tried to unlock it as quietly as you could, pushing the door open slowly before you stepped in. No sight of him in the living room or the kitchen, you crept closer to his bedroom door before knocking and cracking it open. “Hey Ray, are you here? Just wanted to check up on you. I haven’t seen you in—" Before you could get another word in, the door was slammed in your face almost immediately before you could push it open any further.
“Don’t! Fuck… You’re not supposed to be here...please.” His voice was strained, almost sounding pained. “Ray, what’s been up with you? Don’t call, barely text; you can’t keep disappearing like this and then coming back like nothing happened!” You put your weight on the door, trying to push your way inside of his room. Eventually the door gives in, and you see Ray panting, pacing about like a madman in his almost dark room say for the TV illuminating it slightly.
You went over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder, which earns you almost a mix of a whimper and snarl from him. “Please… I don’t want to do anything stupid… but it’s so fucking hard when you smell like that…” Ray gripped your shoulder; in that moment you really paid attention to him. Like, really took in his presence and all. He looked different and felt different. His voice was filled with fear and hesitation, but when you met his eyes… it was like he wanted to devour you whole.
“What are you even on about, Ray?! You’re really starting to freak me out!” You stammered, trying to pull away, but his grip kept you in place. You felt his nails, which you could’ve sworn were way shorter, dig into your skin. You yelped, which immediately snapped him out of whatever headspace he was in, and he crumbled down in front of you.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I just need you… Please, I promise I’ll explain everything later; I just need you right now.” He pleaded. You were confused, of course, but you mumbled out an “okay,” and before you knew it, his lips were crashing into yours.
His hands pulling your hips against his, grinding against you so needily as you two sloppily made out. He walked you backwards onto the bed and was already starting to make light work of your jeans. Nipping and kissing down your thighs as he spread them apart. “You smell like heaven, babe.” He panted as he pushed his nose into your panties, licking a stripe up your clothed pussy.
Your fingers went to entangle with his hair; however, instead of silky curls, you were met with something firm, twitching, almost like an ear. But before you could ask any more questions, Ray had already pulled your panties aside like you were the first meal he had eaten in years. His tongue slid against your folds, and his lips suckled on your clit. Your thighs quivered, instinctively trying to clamp around his head. But his hand held you open, his nails digging into the flesh of your inner thigh, surely leaving a few marks.
Ray pulled back, his breath labored and heavy. He stood and impatiently started to unbuckle his belt, wasting no time to pop the button of his jeans so he could fish his cock out of his boxers.
He rubbed the head of his cock against your folds, letting out a low whine before he slipped the tip inside. Somehow, it felt like he’d gotten bigger; only the tip was inside, and it felt like you were being split open. “It’s too much, Ray…” you managed to choke out, though Ray still urged himself inside of you. “I know, I know… Just a little bit more ‘Kay?… I need to be inside you…” Ray finally bottomed out inside of you, rambling on and on about how perfect you felt around his cock as he thrusted.
His thrust started to get more hurried and sharp, causing the bed to groan in protest. and he gripped your hips tighter. “Gonna cum…shit…need to fill this pussy up with my cum…” He huffed until his hips stilled, and he let out a low growl. You could feel something swelling inside you, not just his cum but like his cock was actually swelling. You tried to squirm, but that only made him hold you down more firmly. “No… Just stay still… until the knot goes down…” Ray leaned down, burying his face into the crook of your neck.
At this moment, your senses were slowly coming back to you after being fucked stupid mere minutes ago. You weren’t really sure what to do; should you push him back? Start demanding answers about what the fuck was going on. Before you could really make up your mind, Ray pulled out. Whatever haze that seemed to be lingering over his brain before seemed to be slowly fading because a look of realization made its way onto his face almost immediately.
“Holy shit, I’m so, so sorry, babe! I don’t know what happened; I just sort of blacked out…” Ray went to go grab a towel to clean both of you up, stammering out apology after apology. “Ray, it’s fine; I just want you to be honest with me. What’s up with you?” Ray sighed and bit his lip nervously. “Promise you won’t laugh or think I’m crazy?”
Ray spent at least 30 minutes explaining how he’s a werewolf. Rambling on and on about how he didn’t want to hurt you during his ruts, so that’s why he’d disappear every two months. He was right; he did sound crazy at first, but the more you thought about it, the more things started to make sense.
He was expecting you to leave him on the spot, his heart almost beating out of his chest when you pressed a soft kiss on his lips. “Just promise me you’ll tell me when your ruts are coming up… or at least let me help.” He grinned
Pete and Patrick’s orange air freshener mind meld. AKA: fever dream tangerine sweat
I think about this story every time I listen to HMLAG, but it never occurred to me to see if anyone recorded it until tonight.
This was one of the “secret” shows they played right before Folie. Specifically, the North Star Bar (RIP) in Philly.
(I didn’t have a car at the time, so I walked 5 miles at 4am to be one of the first people in line. They gave us wristbands and told us to come back at whatever time. Cell phones did not yet have the entire Internet inside of them, so I had nothing to do for like 12 hours. Wow I’m just now realizing that I could have walked home, taken a nap, and walked back in plenty of time, but instead I just like, sat? On a curb? For hours? Hilarious.)
