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realcube · 3 months ago

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dilf december

day two ⭑ katsuki bakugo ⭑ student's parent x teacher! reader

tw : nsfw minors dni, age gap, oral (giving), mentions of vaginal, praise

it's always difficult when there is a problem child in your class, and for the sake of the other students' learning, you need to get their parents involved.

but it's even more difficult when the aforementioned child's only parent is worse than they are.

school had ended, and you had scheduled a meeting with the parent of a child in your class who has been disrupting and causing trouble. you tried to deal with the situation internally but you've been left with no choice but to call a parents-teacher conference.

it was disheartening to hear the child only had one active parent in their life, but that didn't change the fact their behaviour had to be dealt with. you called their parent and arranged for him to meet you in your classroom at 3.10PM.

it's now 3.30PM and a rugged man with spikey blonde hair and light stubble, wearing a black hero costume comes barging into your room, yelling, "alright, make this quick."

before you can even process what he looks like, he's thrown himself down on the chair that you had positioned across from your desk. you take a moment to look at him, and that's when you realise he's not only extremely hot but also that you recognise this guy has a very well-known pro-hero. king explosion murder dynamight god or something over-the-top like that.

but regardless of his occuption or how famous or how good-looking he is, you must remain professional and treat him like you would any other parent of your student.

"good afternoon, sir. i'm glad you could join me today to discuss your child's academic performance. twenty minutes late, however."

he crosses his arms over his chest and dramatically groans, "i see what the problem is. so, i'm not going to sit here and get lectured about my kid's 'academic performance' from some tween who graduated yesterday."

you blink twice, unfamilar with being met with this much hostility right off the bat. so it takes you a moment to gather yourself before you are able to choke out a response. "my age or experience has nothing to do with this. i'm just trying to help your child succeed in my class."

taking a calm approach seemed to be effective, as bakugo sunk back into his chair. his arms were still crossed over his chest and he still had a sour expression but at least he's listening.

"okay. so if you don't mind me asking, what are things like at home?"

"fine." he replies bluntly.

you nod along, trying to mimic a concerned look, as though you don't already know exactly what the problem is. "alright. it's just that your child has been displaying signs of bad-temper in class and is prone to angry outbursts, and those behaviours usually stem from within the household."

"yeah? well, his mums a whore so that probably doesn't help either." he states plainly, averting eye-contact.

you harshly bite your tongue to prevent you from laughing or even showing the slightest sign of amusement on your face. "oh?" you croak. "so i assume there has been a bit of infidelity."

"a bit." he agrees, staring at you with narrowed eyes.

"and how are you all planning on navigating the situa—"

"look. you're not a god damn therapist so don't try this psychoanalysis bullshit on me. just tell me what you want me to do. make him do extra homework? yell at him? take his games away? what?"

you press your lips together in a line, and stare at him in thought. you clear your thought and reply unsteadily, "i don't.. really know. to me it seems like he is just mimicking behaviours he sees at home and is responding to a high-stress environment. are you the only one who lives with him?"

"yeah. me, him and sometimes my mum babysits." he grumbles.

"well, i think we'd need to address the root of the cause. and i hate to say it, sir, but that would be you."

"of course it fuckin' is." he spits, and you brush this off and continue talking.

"you seem very irate about the situation with your wife an—"

"ex-wife." he corrects.

".. ex-wife. and rightfully so. on top of that, i understand you have a very intense and high-stakes job? all of that stress cannot be good for you; i'd suggest you take steps to address your own worries and that should ease the tension in your house."

"don't be stressed or angry. got it." he replies sardonically.

"just take some extra time to chill out and focus on yourself. plus, i happen to know a very effective relaxation technique, if you're interested?"

he quirks an eyebrow.

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

you pride yourself on being a helpful and engaging teacher. that's part of the reason why you find yourself on your knees, hidden away in the janitor's cupboard, with your student's dad's dick in your mouth.

it's dark, with only a single flickering bulb illuminating the room, and it casts shadows over his chiselled face. making him all the more intimidating to gaze up at, with crystalline tears welling in your eyes from the way his fat cock bruises the back of your throat.

but even then, he has a firm grip on your hair and uses it to maneuver your head to his pleasing, forcing you to take it all repeatedly at a pace of his making. "shit, you're too fuckin' good at that." he groans lowly, sighing through his nose.

his gaze flickers rapidly between staring into distance at looking down at you and watching your every move; how your sweet cheeks puff out to take his girth, or the way your plump lips clasp and pucker around him. but occasionally he'll lose himself in the intoxicating feeling of your warm mouth and find his eyes rolling back in his head and increasingly lewd noises coming from him.

in this instance, he didn't snap back to reality until after he had shot his salty load into your mouth. you close you mouth as he looks down at you expectantly. without a word exchanged, you swallow it and he only chuckles. "what a good girl." he muses, pulling you up to your feet by your hair and admiring your dishevelled state.

when you are at around his level again, he notices a smudge of cum has spilled from the corner of your lip. so he promptly uses his thumb to guide it back inside, admiring you as he does so.

but this is short-lived before he swiftly turns you around by your hips and works at unbuttoning your jeans, "now let me try this tight pussy."

#bakugo smut #bnha smut #mha smut #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x female reader #bnha x reader #👾nsfw #dilf⭑december

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beardedjoel · 3 months ago

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Okay then #19 from the first prompt post with sugar daddy Joel (since you're cockblocking my other genius idea 🙄) and he better be OLD old how we like it 🫡

we both know how much we love our man sd joel (and we are not talking about your other idea)! but OLD old coming right up 🤪 absolutely love this prompt and this version of joel being such a good daddy. this was healing to write tbh

yes, here — sugar daddy!joel x f!reader

request: "when the teasing in the dressing room gets a little too hot". sent in as part of my 5k celebration!

wc: 3.9k

warnings: smut (fingering, piv), public sex, daddy kink, sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship but they're in love, large age gap (implied reader is much younger and joel is "pushing sixty"), reader is picked up by joel

“Do I really have to come out… there… and show you each one?” You’re nervous, feeling exposed, as you see your reflection in the lavish dressing room. A baby blue silk thong and bra set with the matching garter belt stare back at you. It’s hugging your curves in all the right places, you’ll admit. The quality of the fabric is evident as you slide your fingers over it, adjusting the bra to make your tits sit a little perkier, tilting your head as you inspect them.

Joel smirks from outside the door, thighs spread wide as he lounges back on an expensive, plush white couch. “Well, my money, my rules, I’d say,” he teases you. “So yes.”

It wasn’t like you had that much to be worried about - Joel had rented out the entire boutique just to sample new lingerie on you. It wasn’t the first time he’d purchased lingerie for you, or given you a stack of cash to do so on your own time, but it certainly was the first time you’d had to try it on like this in front of him in public. Well, semi-public, you suppose, counting the one boutique employee who was trying to keep a casual, respectful distance. You’re sure Joel was slipping her an obscene amount of money for her discretion.

You suppress the smile on your lips at Joel’s teasing. Fair enough. What daddy says, goes. You unlock the dressing room door, stepping out, your body language shy as his eyes adjust on you, drinking in the look with lustful eyes. His lips, seemingly turned up in a perpetual smirk today, grin even wider. You step across the small open area outside the dressing room, all plush, soft cream carpets and a sparkling chandelier above, to where Joel sits, smoothing out his perfectly tailored suit.

“It’s nice. I like this one,” he concludes cooly, his voice deep and rumbly, the sexiness of it scratching a very particular itch in your brain. “Turn,” he says, spinning his fingers to mimic the motion he wants from you. You sport a timid smile, starting to turn, flushing warm as soon as you realize your ass is on full display, only a flimsy piece of silk string wedged between your asscheeks for the entire store - albeit empty - to see.

Joel leans forward, his large hand enveloping your ass cheek as he gives it an appreciative squeeze, dropping it to let it bounce. “Show me the next one,” he says, patting the flesh once more to send you on your way back to the dressing room. “That lacy black one,” Joel clarifies once the door is shut behind you.

You stare inquisitively at the rack inside the dressing room. It’s full of suggestions, pre-picked by the staff for you based on Joel’s instructions of what he was looking for. You scan the hangers until you find the one he’d requested, slipping it on. It’s a skimpy sheer black set with an embroidered trim of deep red flowers, sexier in its own right then the last one.

Joel’s positive reaction to this set is similar, his hands placed on your hips, rubbing his thumbs along your skin as you stand between his spread legs for inspection. “Very sexy. But I think I’m wantin’ to see you in somethin’ a little more… cute.”

You bat your lashes at him. “Cute? Which one, daddy?” you coo, watching his eyes darken as you shift your stance, popping your hips to accentuate your curves and bend your chest closer to Joel’s face. His eyes flick to your tits, curving deliciously out of the enticing design of the bra, the sheer material surely giving him a clear view of your nipples as they stiffen.

A tiny chuckle is pulled from his throat, his eyes back on yours. He blatantly ignores your teasing, although you can see the effect it’s already having on him, his cheeks tinged with color as his excitement grows. “Thought there was a pink one in there somewhere. Fuzzy, too,” he says, arching an eyebrow as if to say, go on then.

“Yes, daddy,” you say sweetly, obeying him to sort through the rack in the dressing room again. You see exactly the one Joel was asking to see next, standing out from the others by the sheer volume of it in comparison to some of the skimpy pieces. A flowy light pink set made up of a babydoll top opened in the front, sheer all over and lined with a soft, fuzzy trim. It’s luxurious and a little more showy than you’re used to, giving off the ultimate rich man’s housewife vibe in its tasteful extravagance.

“You’re sure about this one? It’s… a lot…” you ask from behind the door as you slip on the pieces, tying the soft fabric of the bra into a neat bow in the center of your chest like a present to be opened by Joel. You wonder if you should even question him - it’s Joel’s money and Joel’s wishes, but you can’t help but feel this one is a little much. You surely don’t have what it takes to pull off the look of a rich housewife like he’s expecting. The other lingerie felt it suited better how you viewed yourself - a sugar baby, a fun thing for Joel to play with and throw his money at.

Joel senses the hesitation in your voice and feels the shift in the air. “I want to see it,” he reassures you, stern in his tone.

You crack open the door, stepping out into the warm white light of the chandelier once again. Joel’s eyes drag up slowly from your feet to your face, taking everything in with a ravenous sparkle in his gaze. “What’s all this? Why’re you hidin’ over there?” Joel asks when you refrain from stepping closer.

“N-nothing, daddy,” you stammer out, quickly closing the gap as if that will avoid further suspicion. His eyes narrow, and you get the feeling that like many times before, Joel is easily reading right through you.

“You don’t think I look… ridiculous in this?” you finally manage to ask at his silent prompting. The truth is, you love the set. You think it’s gorgeous - fun but with plenty of class, pretty but for all the embellishments it still holds its elegance. You just have some strange fear prickling in your belly all of a sudden that one day Joel might wake up and realize you’re not enough for him. Not experienced enough, not worldly enough, not well versed in finances or business or any of the things that take up so much of his time. Somehow that’s all being projected onto a damn lingerie set today.

Joel cocks his head, the creases between his brows deepening. It’s so unlike you to show this lack of confidence around him. Typically, Joel makes you feel on top of the world - special - and you have no problem being the sweet, alluring woman he knows you to be. You don’t know what’s gotten into you today or why you suddenly worry you don’t fit into his life somehow.

“Ridiculous?” Joel scoffs, leaning forward. His hand grabs yours, holding it gently but with a certain authority that makes you crumble every time. “Now why the hell would you say somethin’ like that?”

You avert your eyes down to the carpet, watching your toes wiggle nervously. “I don’t know,” you mutter, finding your decision to bring this up rather regrettable now that you’re faced with it. Joel tugs your hand, forcing you as close as you can get, your shins hitting the edge of the couch, Joel’s legs on either side of you.

“Tell me, sweetheart, or I’ll bend you over my knee an’ make you,” Joel drawls, keeping his cool despite the threatening nature of his words. Tears prick at your eyes, making you even more frustrated at yourself.

“Daddy…” you whine, eyes wide. “Here?”

“I ain’t above doin’ whatever, wherever to remind you of the rules.” Joel’s grip on your hips is hasty but controlled as he moves your body, pulling you down to straddle him. His exacting gaze locks onto yours as he bunches up the sheer fabric hanging down over your ass, then brings a gentler hand than you’d expected to your flesh, giving it a light smack. You pull your lip between your teeth, biting down softly as Joel does it again, cocking a brow at your continuing silence. You both know that even through the discomfort, the threat of his actions, it turns both of you on, and you can feel your core start to pulse with need in the background of the self doubt you’re feeling.

“I ain’t afraid to go harder,” he growls.

Your eyes well up when he smacks again, harsher this time, enough to leave a bit of a mark, and you finally find yourself breaking down. “I look like I’m trying to be someone I’m not, okay?” you blurt out, sniffling.

“An’ who’s that you’re tryin’ to be, hm?” Joel asks, calm and curious, his free hand carefully grasping your chin between his thumb and forefinger, keeping you from tilting your head away from his probing stare.

“S-someone who belongs in your world. Aren’t you just going to get sick of me one day? Realize you want someone that people won’t look at like they do me? Someone… sensible.”

“You got all this from a piece of lingerie, princess?” Joel asks, rubbing your ass in lazy circles. He sighs, softening. “I’m not doin’ enough t’make you feel special, I know that. I’ve been busy lately.”

You had to admit you’d noticed, and maybe it seeped into your subconscious, eating away at you that all of this was too good to be true. You’d only been in this arrangement with Joel for six months but it had been heavenly, everything you’d been looking for. You didn’t care that he was pushing sixty, that you two looked like the walking embodiment of what judgemental people imagined a sugar daddy and his baby to look like. You admired Joel for who he was, and had before he’d even brought up how badly he wanted to spoil you. The best part was how much he cared about you above all else, above the money, always doting on you and wanting to guide you, protect you.

“I know, daddy,” you say, frowning sympathetically. “It’s okay, it’s not that. I just… want to make sure that you still want this. That I can be everything you want.”

Joel tsks. “Oh, sweetheart, you already are. That hasn’t changed for me one bit. Look at what I got sittin’ right in my lap. Funny, sweet, carin’, and -” He leans in, wrapping his hand around your cheek, kissing you deeply. “So damn sexy in the lingerie I picked out for her.”

You can’t help but giggle at his teasing compliment, hearing the sincerity in his voice. A weight lifts off of your shoulders, realizing you’d been acting foolish, letting your negative thoughts outweigh any sense of rationality. All of the lonely evenings of late when Joel remained at work, leaving you in his spacious penthouse downtown to come home to, or the mornings when he had to rush out the door, had gotten to you more than you’d realized. You understood it was temporary while he oversaw an important project at his firm, and he’d never stopped trying to carve out as much time as possible for you when he could. You smile, finding peace washing over you once again, raking your fingers through his greying beard.

“Daddy…” you coo, giving him a sultry giggle. “You think so?” you ask innocently, peering down at your outfit.

“Mhm,” he mumbles. “Y’know why this one is my favorite? Why I picked it out special?” You shake your head, feeling it start to swim with desire as Joel’s quickly growing bulge presses against you. His hand slips down your body, right between your legs, and you gasp when his fingers touch bare skin, a teasing touch right to where you’re already slick for him.

“Nothin’ in my way,” he says, grinning darkly. You suppose you’d been too lost in thought in the dressing room to properly register the purposeful hole in the panties when you’d put them on, but now it was all you could think about as Joel’s fingers work their magic. Easily sliding one digit in, he quickly adds a second one, moving them in a steady rhythm.

Joel watches with pride as your eyes start to glaze over, your needy, bitten lip begging him for more. He leans in for a ravenous kiss with small bites to that enticing bottom lip, listening to the gasping little moans caught in your throat.

“You’re naughty, daddy,” you say with a breathless giggle against his lips.

“Mhm,” he murmurs back, kissing you again until the heat grows so unbearable between the two of you that you find your hips slowly grinding against him, seeking relief. “Can you blame me for wantin’ easy access to somethin’ this sweet?” he asks you, bringing his shining fingers to his lips, coated with your arousal, sucking on them.

“You always have it, daddy. Even when I’m not wearing this,” you purr, feeling yourself drip as you watch him lick his fingers clean, rolling your hips over his once again. You hum contentedly as warmth flickers in your core at the friction, especially with the gusset of your panties being well, nonexistent and allowing for your clit to rub on the dark fabric of Joel’s suit pants.

He chuckles, amused, and nods. “That’s right, isn’t it?” he agrees, his eyes growing more serious as he reaches down, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly. “An’ despite all this, how I can’t get enough of you, you still thought I’d get bored of you? Bored?” He says the words like he’s lamenting, incredulous that you could see anything other than what he does: the woman that he’s completely infatuated with, the one who plagues his waking and dreaming thoughts alike, the one who he considers it an honor to come home to, laying in wait every night for his cock or his hands or to hear what’s on his mind.

You stammer, seeing that Joel feels hurt you could ever feel less than in his presence. He pulls his cock free, the familiar warmth of it irresistible against your body, but you glance around, seeming to remember yourself, where you are.

“Yes, here,” Joel says sternly before you can even ask the question, seeing your adorable, nervous expression like this is the first time you two have done something unsavory in public. You always act innocent about it though, and Joel eats it right up every damn time, letting it harden his cock as he starts to slide it into your tight, needy hole.

You gasp, eyes going wide as you bask in that sweet spot along the border of pain and pleasure. Joel’s size always takes some getting used to. No matter how ready you are, how many times he’s fucked you, it’s the same stretch and impossibly full feeling as your body adjusts.

“How could I be bored, hm, my darling girl? You think daddy is bored of this?” he asks, threading his fingers into your hair at the back of your head. You give him a weak shake of your head, eyes fluttering when he starts to move his hips, pressing his cock deep inside of you.

“N-no, no I don’t daddy.”

“Attagirl,” Joel responds proudly, bringing his lips to yours. Your hips collide with his as you meet for greedy kisses, rolling them to meet each thrust upwards of his with soft moans into his mouth. A sound, presumably the front door of the shop in the distance, clanging hard against itself as someone tries to open it when it’s locked, rings out throughout the otherwise quiet store. You realize you haven’t even seen the single employee loitering around anymore, off somewhere to give the two of you some privacy.

“D-daddy -” you gasp out as he ups the pace, forcing you along for the ride. “Th-the door - maybe we should -”

His eyes, darkened and lustful, dance as his lips turn up in a smirk. He shakes his head, leaning down to bite your bottom lip, pulling it hard. You moan, your mind a quickly muddled mess, your heart racing.

“C’mon then, if you’re worried about privacy,” he grunts out teasingly, grasping at each side of your ass with his large hands, starting to lift you up, cock still buried deep inside of you as he carries you across to the dressing room. You crash your lips into his again, hungrily taking, the two of you lost in your own world as he slams you up against the wall. Your legs hook tightly around Joel’s body, keeping him pressed deep every time he drives his hips forward. In here, you feel like you can be louder, knowing it’s a ridiculous concept, but the moans that Joel pulls from your throat would have escaped no matter what at the angle he’s hitting inside of you.

You whimper when you feel yourself getting close, your core tightening as your entire being sits on the edge of pleasure. You start to moan louder, until you’re sure it can’t be contained anymore, circumstances be damned.

“Play with yourself,” Joel grits out, and you quickly unlatch one arm from around his neck, putting a finger to your swollen, aching clit. “Let me feel my baby squeeze daddy’s cock so tight.”

You cry out, nodding fervently as you try to hang onto Joel’s shoulder while rubbing circles on your clit. You can feel the both of you slick with sweat, your bodies pressed impossibly close, his heat surrounding you feeling like home. You can feel both of your bodies trembling with the exertion of this position, but neither one of you wants to stop now, not when you’re both so close. He brings his face to the crook of your neck, pushing all the fluff from the trim further down your shoulder before he bites and sucks on the skin, sending pleasure bursting through you.

“I’m gonna come daddy, I’m gonna come!” you scream out in pure ecstasy as it sweeps you away, your body tightly held against Joel’s as you lose yourself to it, your head tilting back to lean against the wall.

“That’s my girl. That’s it, cream on daddy’s cock like a good girl,” he grunts. “F-fuck.” Joel’s thrusts turn more erratic and choppy, the grunting right in your ear one of the sexiest sounds you’ve ever heard in your life. You can’t believe you had worried for even a second about Joel’s feelings towards you when he’s just as lost as you are in this, stringing praises for you under his breath.

“You want me to fill you up, princess? Let it drip right out of your pretty new set? Show everyone who’s mine?”

Breathless as your pussy clenches around him from his words alone, you nod for him. “Y-yes daddy, please. Fill me up.”

He groans loudly as he slams his hips into yours one last time, spilling himself into you. Heady ecstasy fills your mind with the loveliest haze as you feel Joel come undone inside of you, showing his devotion in the most physical form.

“God damn. You’re perfect.” he pants out, placing soft kisses everywhere his lips can find in the moment - your neck, slowly working up to your jaw, your cheek, your forehead. He still hasn’t let you go, pulled himself out of the mess you’ve both made of your cunt, wanting to sit in this moment a little longer.

Joel finally settles your limp body on the luxurious bench in the dressing room, leaning down to kiss the top of your head, his arms slowly releasing from around you. He stands up tall, tucking himself away and adjusting his suit jacket before tipping your chin, staring into your heavy lidded eyes.

“You know I’d do anythin’ f’you, darling girl. Give you the entire world if I could.”

“I know, daddy.” You give him an exhausted smile, leaning back against the wall. You grab at your clothing, neatly folded on the bench beside you, moving to start stripping off the lingerie and dressing back up. Joel grasps your hand, shaking his head.

“I got you, sweetheart,” he says softly, pulling you to stand, letting you put your tired weight on him as he slips the sheer, fuzzy teddy and panties off, leaving you naked. His eyes land between your legs, where his spend leaks down your thighs, and he kisses you softly, letting his hands roam in gentle patterns down your back. You melt into him, sighing. “Let’s get you dressed an’ get some lunch in you,” he whispers against your lips.

“You don’t have to go back to work?” you ask hopefully as Joel starts putting on your underwear for you. He had set this shopping excursion up first thing in the morning, presumably so he could use the rest of the day to manage things at the office and come home to you wearing the new lingerie later on.

Joel’s head shakes, having you step into your skirt before fitting it snugly on your hips. “No, baby. I want to make sure I’m givin’ you my full attention today like you deserve.”

He watches you light up as he pulls your blouse over your head, starting to tidy your outfit up and adjust everything to have you looking polished again. Warmth fills your entire body at his careful, gentle tending to you after how roughly intimate you two had been. You kiss his cheek softly, moving to his lips, feeling his hands tighten around you as he presses you closer to him.

“I’d really like that, daddy,” you say against his lips, leaving him growling softly at the especially sweet lilt you’d used on his title, knowing the effect it would have on him. He surges forward, capturing your lips more ravenously and sliding a hand to your ass to press your hips to his already growing erection. Seeming to remember his duty to care for you above getting his dick wet another time, he pulls back, interlacing his fingers with yours and taking a long, steadying breath.

“Lunch,” he says decidedly. “Then wherever my darlin’ girl wants to go.”

As you two detangle from each other, you catch sight of the pink, fuzzy set, laying on the ground and filthy with the mess you’d both made of it. Joel smirks, his brows raised in amusement as he takes your hand, leading you to the sleek counter near the front to check out. The woman gives you both a practiced smile, slightly strained but still professional despite everything she’d been witness to this morning.

Joel turns to you, pulling out his wallet, thumbing through the bundle of cash inside. He’d have to remember to compensate the boutique worker extra to express his gratitude for her patience and above all else, her continued discretion.

“What d’you say, sweetheart? We take all of it?” he asks you.

Your eyes go wide at the unexpected suggestion, unable to tear your gaze off of his handsome features. You thread your arm through his, pressing yourself close to show your appreciation for everything today - beyond the pretty new things he was buying you, he’d reminded you of the confidence and safety that you had with him, the deep bond you two shared that was unlike anything either of you had experienced before.

You can’t help but beam when you answer Joel’s question. “Yes, daddy. Especially that pink one.”

lingerie that inspired reader's look:

#julie's 5k celebration #julie's 5k celebration fic #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #x reader

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shyfoxsky · 2 months ago

Text

Theriotype List

So, to start out, for context, I think we've all seen a skeptic comment about how all therians are only "cool" animals. I personally have always enjoyed keeping up with those with "rarer" theriotypes and even using them as examples when these kinds of arguments are brought up, so I've decided to do a little bit of a personal project, that being creating a huge list of the wide variety within the therian community. Below is the list I've created so far, sorted by general species, then adding in subspecies/breeds, all in alphabetical order.

Please keep in mind and understand that for now, I am only putting Earthen animals on this list, mainly so I and the post can keep up, because there's a LOT here already and I know there are hundreds more out there. This list does need more entries though. If you have a theriotype that you don't see on this list, please comment or reblog and let me know so I can add it! You can follow and find it with the tag "foxskys theriotype list".

Adder - European Agouti Alligator - American Alpaca Ankylosaurus Anteater Argentavis Armadillo - Three-banded Arthropleura Axolotl Badger - American - European - Honey - Japanese - Sunda Stink Baryonyx Bat - Evening - Flying Fox - Vampire Bear - Black - Brown - Polar Bee - Bumble - Honey Beetle - Dor - Stag Binturong Bison - American Bonobo Butterfly - Buckeye Caiman Caracal Cat, Domestic - Bombay - Himalayan - Japanese Bobtail - Lykoi - Maine Coon - Norwegian Forest - Oriental - Ragdoll - Shorthair - Turkish Van Centipede - Amazonian Giant - House - Japanese Giant - Red-headed Cheetah Chickadee Chimpanzee Chipmunk - Eastern Cicada - White Ghost Coatimundi - White-nosed Cockroach Coot - European Cow - Holstein Friesian Coyote Coywolf Crocodile - Nile - Saltwater - Siamese Crow - American - Hooded Cryodrakon Damselfly - Blue-tailed Deer - Axis - Caribou - Hog - Marsh - Red - White-tailed Deinonychus Dilophosaurus Dingo Dog, Domestic - Alaskan Malamute - Australian Shepherd - Beagle - Belgian Malinois - Bernese Mountain - Blue Bay Shepherd - Border Collie - Borzoi - Carpathian Shepherd - Cavalier King Charles Spaniel - Czechoslovakian Wolfdog - Dalmatian - Doberman - German Shepherd - Golden Retriever - Greyhound - Husky - Irish Wolfhound - Karst Shepherd - Nova Scotia Duck-tolling Retriever - Saluki - Samoyed - Sighthound - Silken Windhound - Wolfdog - Yorkie Dolphin - Amazon River - Common Donkey Dove Duck - Mallard Eagle - Bald - Golden Elk - American - Irish Eusmlius Fish - Arowana - Barbel - Betta - Bichir - Bristlenose Pleco - Carp - Hag - Koi - Pike - Salmon - Zander Fly - Blue Bottle - House Fossa Fox - Arctic - Bat-eared - Blanford's - Corsac - Crab-eating - Gray - Red, American - Red, European - Swift Gecko - Day Goat Golden Cat - Asiatic Goose - Canada Gorilla Grackle Grebe - Pied-billed Guinea Pig Hamster Hare - Brown - European Hawk - Red-tailed Hawk-Eagle - Changeable - Wallace's Hedgehog Homotherium Hornbill Hornet - Bald-faced - European Horse - Akhal-Teke - Clydesdale - Drum - Mustang Hyena - Aardwolf - Brown - Spotted - Striped Ichthyovenator Iguana Isopod Jackal - Black-Backed Jaguar Jay - Blue - Florida Scrub Jellyfish - Moon - White Spotted Jerboa Kangaroo Kaprosuchus Katydid Kestrel - Eurasian Ladybug Lemur - Black-and-white Ruffed - Red-bellied - Red-ruffed Leopard - African - Clouded - Snow Lion - African - American - Mountain Lynx - Bobcat - Canadian - European - Iberian Macaw - Blue-and-Yellow - Hyacinth - Scarlet - Spix’s Magpie - American - Eurasian - Yellow-billed Margay Marten - American Pine - European Pine - Japanese - Yellow-throated Microraptor Millipede - Crested Mink - American - Sea Monkey - Capuchin Moth - Cecropia - Cinnabar - Common Domestic Silk - Gold - Luna - Rosy Maple - Satin Mouse - Harvest - Hazel Dormouse Muskrat Nautilus Newt - Marbled Octopus - Mimic Opossum Orangutan Osprey Otter - Giant - River - Sea Oviraptor Owl - Barn - Burrowing - Snowy - Tawny Panda - Giant - Red Pangolin - Black-bellied - Tree Parpsauropholus Parrot - Kea Peacock/fowl Pigeon Pitohiu - Hooded Plateosaurus Possum Pterosaur Pufferfish Python - Ball Rabbit - Lionhead - Lop-Eared Raccoon Raven - Common Ray - Sting Rhamphorhynchus Sable Scorpion Sea Lion Sea Slug Seagull - Greater Black-backed Seal - Harbor - Weddell Serval Shark - Chain Catshark - Nurse - Oceanic Blacktip - Sicklefern Lemon Sheep - Bighorn - Domestic - Hebridean - Herdwick - Mouflon Sinosauripteryx Skink - Blue-tailed Snake - Banded Sea Sparrow - Common House Spider - Black Widow - Orb Weaver Spinosaurus Squid Squirrel - Eastern Fox - Finlayson's - Gray - Red Stoat Stork - Shoebill Styracosaurus Tamarin - Golden Lion Terrorbird Tiger - Bengal - Siberian - Sumatran Toucan Tyrannosaur Uromastyx Vulture - Bearded - Black - Turkey Wasp - Potter Weasel Whale - Killer - Minke - Pilot - Right Whiptail - New Mexico Wolf - Alaskan - Arctic - Coastal - Eastern - European - Gray - Himalayan - Labrador - Mackenzie River - Maned - Mexican - Northern Rocky Mountain - Northwestern - Red - Tundra Wolfdog Wolverine Zebra - Grevey's - Mountain - Plains

#therian #therianthropy #therian community #alterhuman #alterhumanity #alterhuman community #nonhuman #nonhuman community #foxskys theriotype list

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stealingyourbones · 1 year ago

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Short DPXDC Prompts #1014

Anyone with the powers of a ghostly wail has the ability to perfectly mimic the voices of anyone they hear. This can lead to many interesting situations. - Danny choosing at random someone else’s voice to imitate while hiding from the GIW. Said random person is a Bat or a JL member (I really like the idea of him imitating Hal Jordan or Clark Kent) and they overhear this dude who stole their voice talk to someone like it’s just your average day. - Dan saving someone out of old habits (damn instinctual reflexes from his ‘hero phase’) and chooses the voice of Superman or Batman to help console the person he saved. If they associate him with a hero they’re less likely to freak out after all. Luckily for him it’s pitch black and the person can only see his rough build and not his face. This leads to said hero getting word of someone pretending to be them. Not good for Dan. - in an attempt to remain anonymous during a JL emergency hotline call, Danny mimics whoever is on the other end of the line. Needless to say, this freaks the hero out big time. And there’s so many more wonderful things that could stem from this ability! What other funky shenanigans do you think Danny/Dan/Dani/etc could get into with this?

#gUYS I DID IT!!!!#dpxdc #danny phantom #bones prompts #BEHOLD

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secretlysimpash · 24 days ago

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🐙Weird Octopus🐙

(Octopus Monster Hybrid König x Marine Biologist/Scientist Reader)

Warning(s): reader has no specified gender, injury and blood mentioned, slight hint to monsterfucking at the end, tentacle dicks (yes, plural)

"Poor little guy..." Was all you could say as you scooped up the little octopus creature into a bucket. It has-or had-eight arms, so you assume its just some variation of a dumbo octopus.

A little bigger than most Grimpoteuthis...The tentacles a bit longer. And the coloration is a bit odd as well. Black with red markings under the eyes, the suckers being a matching shade of scarlet. But more than anything, its eyes are a striking shade of blue. Just a bit lighter than the blue blood that stains the walls of the bucket. Its eighth arm was missing, only a stump now. It was already in some distress, its tiny black ears fluttering close to its squishy dome head.

This could be a new species, a subspecies, something...Something that you discovered. So you take it to your home near the sea. Both so you could document your discoveries...And so you could tend to the palm sized octopus.

You clean out a tank for the creature, filling it with some saltwater. Another thought comes to mind as you go to the bucket...Dumbo octopuses live in the deep sea. This creature should be dead, by all accounts. Yet, you're scooping it from the bucket with your hands now (you tried a tiny net, it wasn't having it).

The tentacles wrap around your fingers as you carry it to its new, temporary home. A deep tank with some things to somewhat mimic its usual domain. You lower it in, and it's hesitant at first. The big, blue eyes of the creature glance up at you, tiny black flaps on either side of its head fluttering before it lets go of your hand.

"Here...Take your time with this, your arm'll grow back...Soon-ish." You say to it as you drop some worms and a snail in for the creature. In a form of a response, it twirls its tentacles a bit, bringing a smile to your lips. It's a cute little thing, and thankfully the bleeding stopped.

You give the little guy some privacy, or as much as you can since the tank is in your room. In your head, you're going over name ideas for the little guy as you change into your pajamas. After brushing your teeth, finishing your nightly routine, and checking on Little Guy one more time, you collapse into bed.

The next morning, you go to check on Little Guy, your unofficial name for the strange dumbo octopus. Halfway through chirping out a good morning, you see that its...Not in its tank. The lid was on when you went to sleep. Was. Was!?

The worms and snail are still untouched at the bottom of the tank as well. Your mind is buzzing with a million different questions, mixed emotions, and--

CRASH

From your kitchen, there is shuffling...Clanking of pots and pans...Muffled curses? You pick up a baseball bat, try to be as intimidating as humanly possible while wearing your pajamas...And head out.

Standing in your kitchen is a man...A very tall, very naked man. Well...He's wearing one of your shirts on its head. The one from yesterday, taken straight from your hamper you assume. On edge, you clutch the metal bat in your hands, slowly inching toward the man who's back is to you. You try not to focus too much on the scars that decorate his pale skin, or the black tattoos that twist all around his body, or the muscles on his back that flex and ripple...

As if to suddenly sense your presence, the man whips around. He's staring at you with wide eyes through the makeshift holes he made in your shirt. You liked that shirt, too...Quickly, he holds his hands up and backs up until his ass hits the counter.

"Tut mir leid...! Ich kann--I can explain!" The man sputters out, his accent a thick German one. "You know me. I...I didn't...The worms, I do not like those ones."

...The worms? You lower the bat, staring at the masked man. Beneath the mask, you may not see his face, but...Something is moving beneath the fabric. Something that begins poking out from the bottom of the "mask". A black tentacle

"I was going to make something, enough for both of us..." He says sheepishly.

You hardly register what he says. Because this is, apparently, the dumbo octopus you took in just last night. You finally allow yourself to lower the bat, and your eyes as you take in his figure. He's well over six feet, damn near seven. The black ink curls and wraps around his torso, limbs, down his legs...

Suddenly your eyes are set on his lower half. You...Can't look away. Between his legs are two...Oh my god, are those--

"Ach...! Sorry!"

Quickly, he grabs for a tea towel...Which dose fuck-all to hide the two dark tentacles where his dick should be. You look back up once he haphazardly drapes it over the two appendages. They're hidden now, somehow keeping the blue tea towel in place as they squirm and twitch...But they were definitely tentacles with no suckers. The base...Did they come out of a slit (cloaca?), or did you really see a bulge at the very base...The questions on the tip of your tongue swirl and swirl until...

"...Do you have a name?" Is what you finally ask this mountain of a man...Or octopus...Octo-man?

"König." He seems to relax slightly as he answers your question. "It's König..." With that, he turns back around and resumes trying to figure something out. "Now, what do you...Do you want bacon? Do you have bacon...? Let me cook."

So, you may not have discovered a new species of dumbo octopus. But he is a new discovery on some level, right...? You should probably keep him here...For a while. Run some tests. Figure out his anatomy...

For science, of course.

#konig x reader #König x reader #octo konig #octo König #monster konig x reader

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uncharismatic-fauna · 10 months ago

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Rainbow Grasshopper (Dactylotum bicolor)

Habitat & Distribution

Mainly found in prairies and agricultural areas

Local to the Great Plains and southwestern United States

Physical Description

Weight: 0.01 oz (0.28 g) on average

Length: 20 mm to 35 mm (0.8 to 1.4 in)

Both sexes have a black base and brightly colored markings over their head and body; these markings can be red, orange, yellow, green, or blue

The rainbow grasshopper does not have wings, and moves only by hopping

Behaviour

Adults feed on a variety of plants, primarily grasses and young shoots

Though not formally social, they tend to congregate in groups for foraging

Predators include possums, raccoons, shrews, foxes, and bats

Key Advantages

Like other grasshoppers, the rainbow grasshopper has a powerful jump

The bright coloration may warn away potential predators, as they mimic other insects which are poisonous

Photo by Jay Iwasaki

#rainbow grasshopper #may mammal madness

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sp0o0kylights · 2 years ago

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I once had to pose in a ton of photos for a friend's AP photography final back in high school so may I present to you:

Steve Harrington, who gave in to Robin's begging that he act as her weird art model for her senior year portfolio (the same one her teacher is encouraging her to bat out of the ballpark and enter into contests.)

She's doing a whole thing on fashion, subcultures and sexuality using photos and collaged poetry, a project that has Steve trying on different outfits and posing in different places.

"This might help me land a scholarship, Dingus." She hisses while she's got him bent over her bathtub, spraying parts of his hair blue with wash-out dye.

Steve, soulmate and best friend extraordinaire, goes through it all with minimal (for him) bitching, even if the goth outfit feels absolutely ridiculous, and the 'geek' photoshoot downright laughable.

He starts to have fun when she has him mimic Nancy's straight laced, all A's good girl aura, and equally has a blast with the country look (he has no idea where Robin got a miniature horse but it conned him for every piece of food he had on him and then some.)

The final piece is the one they're struggling with, the one Robin's now (fake) dying his hair partially blue for.

A few hours later and he's dressed up once again in a studded leather jacket, the tightest jeans he owns ringed with belts, and combat boots.

Robin had even talked him into letting her use eyelash glue to attach a few metal studs on his face--two acting as an eyebrow piercing and one on his nose.

The looks he drew took a minute to get used too when all was said and done, Robin dragging him around Hawkins while she tried to find the 'perfect backdrop' but he's not gonna lie.

He kinda enjoys being punk Steve.

That is, until Robin has him posing in an alleyway and Eddie Munson comes around the corner, jaw right about falling to the floor.

Even better?

Eddie doesn't recognize him.

Not at first, when he siddles up to Steve, nodding to the handkerchief in Steve's back pocket and then flicking the pink triangle pin on his jacket with a finger.

Steve owes Jonathan a bottle of his father's best alcohol for giving him enough knowledge to get through the music razing Eddie subjects him too, and Steve's all too happy to play the part of punk asshole to Munson's music-snob metalhead.

It's not until Eddies playing with his hair and Robin gives in to letting him have a quick break from the shoot that he gives up the ghost, leaning in to whisper in Eddie's ear.

"Gotta say, Munson," Steve all but purrs."I wasn't expecting you to fall for the Harrington Charm that fast."

"What?" Eddie asks, jerking his head back to look at him with wide eyes.

Maybe it's the outfit giving him the extra ounce of courage, but Steve likes to think more that it gives him the freedom to lean forward and brush their lips together.

Eddie doesn't return it, but that's alright.

Steve's played this game enough to know that it was merely a hook for a real kiss.

"Okay." Robin says, annoyed, camera at her side. "Steve, I'm happy that you're finally exploring that repressed as fuck homosexuality we keep arguing about, I really am, but I have to get this last photo!"

He ignores her, instead nudging Eddie's shoulders.

"Care to pose with me?" Steve asks, grinning. He can tell Eddie still isn't sure if this is a joke, that he's seconds from running, and reaches out to tug on his black handkerchief. "Get Robin her photo, and then talk about this after, Mr. S&M."

Eddie flushes scarlet, but after some reassurance (and wheelding) from Robin, finally agrees.

(Later, he agrees to a date, which Steve also credits the outfit for.

Even if Robin demands half the credit.)

#punk steve #except not #steddie #robin buckley #steve harrington #eddie munson #platonic stobin #just think if Eddie had stumbled over the geek outfit #or the mini horse #micro fic #0o0 fanfics #stranger things #stranger things fanfic

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thehighladywrites · 1 year ago

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— “Aren’t you just the cutest?”

☀︎ — pairing: nerd/tutor azriel x bimbo/ditzy/popular reader

☀︎ — summary: You adopt a stray kitten, naming it after someone close to your heart

☀︎ — warnings: fatally cute

☀︎ — amara’s note: Help i got this request earlier today and i just had to write it. This is the cutest thing i’ve ever written. I adore writing for bimbo reader, she’s so cute!!! | based on this request

series masterlist

“Aren’t you just the cutest little thing on earth?” you squeal in delight as you spot a tiny black kitten outside the grocery store.

Bending down, you plop yourself on the edge of the pavement and scoop up the kitten, cradling it gently in your arms.

“Meow,” it mewls, its big round eyes looking at you with an innocent gaze. It has shaggy, fluffy black fur and beautiful hazel eyes, reminding you of someone very dear to you.

“You don’t seem to have an owner, do you? Hm, I see no collar and no one is around. Tell me, kitty, ya hungry?” you coo at it, tilting your head inquisitively, and the kitten mimics the movement in a cute, almost cartoonish way.

Realizing the kitten might not respond to you, you nod your head in determination.

“Don’t worry, kitty cat, you can come home with me. I’ll just get you some food first.”

You glance into your grocery bags and then back at the kitten sheepishly.

“I guess you can’t eat ice cream and sushi, can you?” you say with a giggle, realizing your mistake.

Looking around to make sure no one is watching, you carefully pick up the kitten and gently tuck it into your tote bag. With a nonchalant demeanor, you stroll into the store, doing your best not to attract attention to your feline stowaway.

“Hello, Ms. L/N! Back for some more?” Vanessa, the cashier asks as she notices your quick return.

You freeze, subconsciously clutching your bag as you look around. “Hey, V! I just forgot a little something. I’ll be in and out,” you say nervously, just as your bag meows. You both look at each other in surprise.

“D-Did your bag just meow?” Vanessa asks, raising an eyebrow.

“N-no, um, that was me! I was just bored. Okay, bye V, see ya,” you stammer, trying to play it off as a joke before hurrying further into the store.

You can’t help yourself from getting every single cat toy on the planet, along with every type of food you think the kitten might like. Now, the trunk of your car is filled with toys as you strap the kitten into the passenger seat of your rose Porsche Taycan.

“Okay, kitty. I’ll put on some music. And I don’t know what kind of music you dig, so you’ll just have to listen to Frank Ocean. He’s a really good artist!” you chirp cheerfully, adjusting the volume knob as you drove, hoping the kitten will enjoy Pink+White playing.

Driving into your garage, you park your car and bring your newest housemate inside.

There, you play with him, squealing in happiness at the way he jumps cutely. You praise him and clap your hands whenever he does a cool trick. He even liked the mini bat wings you got for him. The kitten looked so stinkin’ cute in them you just had to take a million photos!

After a while, you get his bowls, fill one with food and the other with water as you sit down next to him, eating your sushi.

“I have to name you something, kitty. I mean, ‘kitty cat’ is adorable, but you need a new name. But just what?” You pout and furrowed your brows, thinking really hard as you lay on the plushy fluffy carpet, the kitten resting on your chest, tired after hours of playing.

As you pat his fur, you wonder what name would suit him. He has black fur and hazel eyes, is calm and collected, just like… Suddenly, your eyes widen, and you gasp.

“Oh my gods, Azzie! Your name is totally Azzie!”

Excitedly jumping up from the carpet, you practically skip over to your laptop, eager to make your new housemate’s name official. After a quick search, you find the perfect pink collar with a heart-shaped tag that says “Azzie.” Without a second thought, you click “Add to Cart” and eagerly wait for it to arrive. After all, Azzie deserved nothing but the best!

—

The next time Azriel comes over, he is greeted by a furry surprise.

As he steps into your home, his eyes widen in astonishment as he spots a tiny kitten sitting on the plush carpet, its hazel eyes mirroring his own.

For a moment, they both freeze in their tracks, assessing each other with a mix of curiosity and wonder. Slowly, Azriel puts down the math books on the counter before he approaches the kitten, his gaze never leaving its adorable face. Kneeling down, he extends his hand tentatively, unsure of how the little creature will react.

To his amazement, the kitten responds by rubbing its nose against his hand, nuzzling into his palm with a happy purr. Azriel can't help but smile, his heart melting at the sight of the affectionate gesture from his miniature doppelganger.

As the cat jumps into his lap, the jingle of its collar catches Azriel's attention. He glances down and notices the pink collar with a heart-shaped tag that read "Azzie" in delicate letters.

A surprised chuckle escape his lips as he gently pets the kitten, realizing that it has been named after him. The gesture warms his heart, and he can’t help but feel a newfound fondness for the furry little companion.

You walk into the room and are met with the heartwarming sight of Azriel playing with your kitten. A smile spreads across your face as you join in, the three of you engaging in a playful game of chase and pounce. Laughter fills the air as you watch Azriel's eyes light up with joy, his usual stoic demeanor melting away in the presence of the adorable feline.

“Oh, Azzie, you two are so freakin’ cute together, I think I might die,” you gush, clapping your hands in delight.

Azriel looks up, a shy smile gracing his lips. “Yeah, I guess he's not so bad,” he replies, his nerdy, shy charm shining through.

You giggle, scooping up the kitten and holding it close. “He's the best! And he's just like you, Azzie. Quiet, calm and sweet like candy!”

Azriel's cheeks flush slightly at the comparison, but he can't hide the fondness in his eyes as he kisses your cheek before he continues to play with the kitten. Together, the three of you get to know each other better, happy with the new addition to your life.

🏷️: @ithan-holstroms-girl @whatdoyxumean @honeybeeboobaa @to-be-written @sidthedollface2 @stasiereads @andrewgarfield2022 @amara-moonlight @thescooby-gang @linoisqt @mischiefmanagers @tortured-artists @dwlyniii @scooobies @harryshoobies69 @caroline-books @kalulakunundrum @meshelleexplosionmurder @danikamariewrites @clairebear08 @redbleedingrose @jeannineee @rowaelinsdaughter @nocasdatsgay @v3lv3tf0x @liati2000 @teenageeggscissorslawyer @impossibelle @stonerpersona @dreamlandreader @djaaaa @callmeblaire @thelov3lybookworm @polli05927 @ahitsalyssa @evergreenlark @thegirlintheshadows101 @saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofladydeath @acourtofwhatthefuck @readychilledwine @daycourtofficial @azriels-shadowsinger @sapphicmsmarvel @hungryforbatboys @justasillylittlegoofyguy @luvmoo @emryb @meritxellao @mochibabycakes @artists-ally @azzieslittlebunny @viatorem-maris @berryzxx @riddlesb1tch

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confused-wanderer · 1 year ago

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Alfred is badass and has unuasual skills even for a batfam member.

Inspired by pandaredd’s skit where Alfred says “Bond wishes he was me”

The man is the caretaker of the bat family, he has raised every damn member, and has seen more than his fair share of wars, doomsdays and worse. He is a butler. And god knows what else in the spare time. All I imagine is that if a teenage Bruce looks up at Alfred and whispers he wants to train, Alfred might be the one who gives him contacts.

Alfred:

Bruce:

Alfred: .. wait here master Bruce, I know you won’t even listen to what I’m saying so I will let you learn the arts. Only under one condition though, I choose your trainers

Teenage Bruce: Alfred, whom would you-

Alfred *already on the phone* : Hello there Lee

Teenage Bruce *wide eyes* *mouthing* : Rock Lee??

Alfred *scoffing* : what world do you think we live in! Be more realistic Master Bruce.

Bruce: .. so who is it?

Alfred: Bruce Lee.

The scariest thing about the butler is that he will take you apart in less than a blow, and he doesn’t even need weapons. He will however use them just for fun.He can still hear if Bruce or any of the batfamily sneaks around, he’s been the only one who somehow knew Cass was in the room and offered her snacks while she was hanging upside down from the ceiling in the pitch black and overall has better instincts to locate any of them in the mansion than a GPS tracking system.

When supervillains, nosy reporters or even crooks try to break into the Manor, the fact that no one installed a security system should’ve really been a warning point that the Waynes had other.. deadlier security.

By the time Jason comes home he sees Alfred cleaning up the carpet, but doesn’t miss the wrinkled edge of the sleeve. It is only then when he looks to the other room and the criminals are all sitting in time out, each a truly remarkable shade of blue, black purple and green he’s never seen in real life. And none of them were even bleeding.

Alfred also has insanely fast reflexes. And to everyone surprise, he is an bloody good shot. Green arrow was once testing out a new arrow and it accidentally whizzed past the target and almost hit the cat when out of nowhere Alfred caught it and snapped it with one hand. And then proceeded to borrow a pistol and shoot the target while walking to the other side of the room, not even sparing a glance at the bullseye he had hit. All the while holding a tray of glass bottles that hadn’t moved a single inch.

He’s given advice to Jason on how to make explosives out of everything and nothing, taught Dick how to cut a tree in half with one kick, showed Stephanie how to always win Russian Roulette, guided Damian on how to break bones without ever leaving traces, taught Tim how to mimic someone’s voice and be scarily accurate, and so much more. Once on live television the world saw Alfred eat three cookies and refuse to pass them to Bruce Wayne before saying “They’ve been poisoned” and throwing them away. A few people swear they heard him mouth “bloody amateurs” afterwards and he insisted he was fine, stating that he was already “used to it.”

Whatever the fuck that meant.

And that is why the bat cave is a safer option for batman’s enemies than the mansion. Because if you were caught by the butler, just know that god has already forsaken you.

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year ago

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a simple life (e.m.)

summary: you try to clean your depression room while eddie's over, but he keeps distracting you.

warnings: none except mentions of a dirty room and panties. also... a lot of nicknames. womp womp. not edited.

pairing: eddie munson x gn!reader

wc: 1.4k+

a/n: just a little sweet something i wrote thinkin' about eddie while i took on the task of finally cleaning my depression room after a few months of putting it off. idk. this is boring. i'm sorry.

“Where did you even get this postcard?”

“Eddie.”

“Or what about this choker? Is that a bat? It’s a- oh my God, babe. Why don’t you ever wear this? This is hot.”

Originally, you had thought it was a good idea. Invite Eddie over, allow the body-doubling tactic to work its magic, and voila – you’d finally have the clean room you’d been talking about achieving for weeks now, within a few hours.

“Baby,” you scold, trying to reach across the bed to snatch the necklace he’d found out of his hands. It proves to be difficult, a small pile of laundry you’d been folding hindering you.

“Sweetheart,” he mimics right back, quick to hold the necklace out of your reach, as if you were anyone near from stealing it back from him.

“I asked you to come over to help me, not distract me,” you sigh, crossing your arms and trying to look as pitiful as possible. When you’d first invited him over, you’d assured him that he needn’t lift a single finger. You didn’t want him here to help by aiding in throwing away any of the trash that had begun to litter your desk or taking any dirty plates to the kitchen. No, the intention had been him helping with his mere presence – quiet presence. He was supposed to be working on a new campaign for Hellfire, not being so damn nosey and going through the few items you’d tossed onto the bed from the floor, “I just recently bought that necklace, I haven’t had a chance to wear it.”

His eyes light up mischievously, a small grin tugging at his lips, “Why not wear it now, then? Perfect opportunity, yeah?”

“I’m not fulfilling any slutty maid fantasies you have, Eddie.”

“What if I say please?”

You huff and decide to give up the fight about the necklace, returning back to the laundry before you. You were almost done. You were almost done after a full day of cleaning. If your adorably curious boyfriend would just stop picking at your belongings, you’d probably be able to finish within the hour.

He stands from the small space on your bed he had made for himself, a nest of sorts that he had taken from simply curling up into for a ‘nap’ (which never happened’ to sitting up as he had just been as he clearly grew more bored with each passing moment. “Want some help with folding?”

“You just want an excuse to get your grubby hands on my underwear,” you grumble, folding a shirt with slightly more vigor to emphasize your point.

You’re right, of course. The first article of clothing he grabs is a pair of lacy black panties.

“Guilty,” he coos jokingly, but to your surprise, he actually folds the lingerie. Neatly, at that. With careful hands, he folds it even nicer than you would have in your haste, going as far as walking to your dresser and putting it away into the correct drawer. And then, he takes it a step further, and begins to put away the other clothing you’d already neatly wrapped up, suddenly depleting the mountain of laundry by half, “You know, I don’t mind helping you clean.”

“I already told you, you’re helping by bein-” you start to protest, hands grabbing at a random jean leg but not quite yanking it from the pile.

He’s quick to interrupt you, taking that pair of jeans right from you, “I don’t want to just lay there while you do all the work, contrary to all the sources that say men enjoy that.”

His face isn’t quite as taunting as it had been moments before. Some of the joking has vanished, replaced by something more serious yet somehow softer. The jeans are slung over his arms, neatly halved twice before he sets them to the side and looks at you.

Your shame is palpable, though. You’d just gotten over the embarrassment of having him over when your room would get this filthy. Disastrous in the worst of ways. Dirty clothes strewn everywhere, plates left for days on any surface you could find in your laziness, coke cans and random trash littering the floor. It was embarrassing. You know he had promised to love you through the good and the ugly, but this was far uglier than he could have ever imagined signing up for.

It was bad enough to have him see it, let alone clean it.

“It’s embarrassing,” you finally say quietly. His head tilts, so adorable it tugs at all your heart strings, and you take it as your queue to continue in a near whisper, “It’s gross - I’m gross.”

“Sweetheart, have you even seen my room?” he scoffs. He’s quick to shove some of the clean clothes up into a pile just enough that he can take a seat at the corner of your bed, quickly reaching out to grab your hands and guide you between his spread legs, “Shit happens. Life gets stressful, work gets busy, sometimes we just don’t feel like cleaning up. Shit happens,” his thumb is sweeping soothingly over your knuckles, clearing the impending storm you hadn’t even been aware of. Maybe he hadn’t either – a naturally caring and comforting aura has always been his thing rather than yours, “Out of everyone in this world, I am the least qualified to judge you.”

You don’t really understand it. How he can sit there, looking up at you so dreamily when the two of you are situated in the middle of your still unkempt room, your neck still chilled with a layer of sweat and your hair tumbling out of the bun you hadn’t properly secured. But he is. He’s looking at you not as if he doesn’t see the mess, both of the room and of yourself, but as if he does and simply doesn’t care.

“Besides,” his lips are splitting with another grin, his hands squeezing your hands three times, “It’s kind of domestic. ‘M kind of into it.”

“Me? Doing laundry?” you snort, blinking away any fears that had crept up. It’s hard to feel inadequate with his eyes on you, spilling so many sweet nothings like it’s just another casual Tuesday conversation and not the fuel to your beating heart, “Didn’t you just say you don’t want to just sit and-”

“Us,” he cuts you off in correction, “Us doing laundry.”

“You… like the thought of doing laundry with me?” you say slowly, carefully, unsure of the words as they fall from your lips.

Doing laundry sounded like the least romantic thing the two of you could ever partake in.

“I like the thought of doing laundry with you,” he repeats with a nod, “I like the thought of doing laundry with you, of doing dishes together after we just made the world's most mediocre dinner ever, of you complaining when I won’t get up so you can make the bed on the weekend,” he tugs you even closer. You have no choice but to let a knee fall to each side of his hips, straddling his lap as he wraps his arms around you and he leans forward to press a chaste kiss to one of your collar bones, “Call me cheesy. I like the thought of a simple life, but only if it’s with you.”

Something warms inside of you. The thought of a life of simplicity, of lazy mornings and boring afternoons, all brightened up by the boy in front of you. A boy who creates magical worlds with his words on a weekly basis, a boy obsessed with fantasy novels and all things adventurous, who wants his greatest life adventure to just be a mundane lifetime with you.

You can imagine it would be anything but mundane with Eddie, but the tranquility still exists and blankets the two of you.

You lift a hand, carding it through his scalp, careful not to let your fingers snag on his messy curls, “Does this mean you’ll do your taxes with me next week?”

With a quick snort, he buries his face into your chest, shaking his head furiously, “Don’t push it, sweetheart.”

You know he will, though. He’ll help you fold the laundry, he’ll help you wash the dishes, and he’ll certainly sit through the dreadful hours of doing taxes if they’re spent with you.

A few beats of silence. His arms have wrapped just right so that his warm palm presses into your lower back, the other hand tracing a mindless circle over your shirt a few inches higher. Your breathing matches his, fingers rubbing a matching pattern into his scalp that has him humming periodically.

The laundry will get done eventually, but it can wait. For now, you just want to hold your boy, and let him hold you.

“It’s a date,” he finally gives in, voice muffled, making you smile widely, “I’ll light candles and everything, sweetheart.”

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

#my writing #ghost's stories #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #this is so boring lmao my bad #i do believe he'd be such a lil nuisance if i was trying to clean with him in the room #this was written in under an hour and definitely not edited my bad #just wanted to stretch my legs with our favorite metalhead idk #look at me #finally writing and posting again #ooooooooo #i want a simple life with him please

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months ago

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Diabolical 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, extreme profanity, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Billy Butcher

Summary: your neighbours has some strange friends.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Ah, cunt!”

The man’s voice rolls under your door. His accent adds a certain slant to his words that makes them sound even harsher. You hover your mug in front of your lips, steam curling from the freshly brewed tea, as your eyes drift over in detest.

You lower it and carry it with you to the door. You lean in to see through the peep hole. The same dark hair, the same long black jacket with the patch on one shoulder, and the same lumbering form. He thumps again on the door across the hall.

“Hughie, open up, ya skinny cunt.”

He uses that word again. Your lip curls and you huff. He keeps on.

You slide back the chain and your adrenaline pumps into your chest. You flip the lock back slowly and pull the door in an inch. You peer through the space as the man checks his watch and grumbles.

“Where are ya, Hughie?” He grumbles and shakes his head. “Big fucking stick bug, won’t answer ya phone, won’t come to the door...”

“It’s not very nice language, is it?” You chide. You’re just as surprised as the man as he stands straight and freezes. He turns to you stiffly as you let the door open a little more.

“Eh? And who are you, then?” He tilts his head this way and that as he growls.

“I live here. Who are you?” You say defiantly. You sip your tea to keep your nerves under wrap.

“Wouldn’t you like know, sweetheart?” He snickers. “Oi, you ain’t happened see the skinny one lives over here?” He jabs his thumb behind him.

You stare at him. You shake your head again. His eyes narrow and flick up and down.

“Too good for the likes of us, eh? You and your fancy porcelain? What’s that? Royal Daulton Cuntware?”

You gasp and bat your lashes. “Excuse me, I haven’t been rude. I’ve only asked you to keep it down. Other people live here besides your friend and they don’t appreciate hearing your profanity every morning.”

“Eh,” he gives a crooked smirk, “you listenin’ for me, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know you, sir, and I shouldn’t like to.”

“Ain’t ya so proper? Sirs and shouldn’ts and tea.” He taunts.

You take a breath and back up, “I would only appreciate a little consideration, but thanks. Have a lovely day.”

“Oi, go on and hide then, darling.” He tugs on his lapels and squares his shoulders. He chuckles again.

You stop the door before you can shut it all the way. You bristle at his laughter. “I don’t think you’re funny.”

He chortles again. He steps closer and you go rigid. You can’t measure up to a man like him. You still the tremour in your hand before your tea can slosh towards the brim.

“Well, I think you’re right hilarious. Why don’t you go on? Tell me, eh, are you more offended by the shit on my boots or the onion on my breath?”

You steel yourself as you grip the door tightly. “Don’t come any closer.”

“Ah, I don’t got that sorta time. Whatcha think a brute like me would do then?” He stops and plants his feet wide.

“You needn’t be so impolite--”

“Needn’t--” he mimics. Before you can stop yourself, the tea splashes across his face and chest.

You recoil as the porcelain drips in your hand and you gape at his stunned grimace. His blue eyes flash and you kick the door shut as you retreat. You put the chain in place and twist the lock. You press your back to the door and listen, heart pounding, and wait.

His treads scuff on the floor and he sighs. The floor groans as he moves and you watch his shadow beneath your door. Yet, no banging comes at the door.

“Ah, bollocks, that’ll stain.” His grumble follows him down the hall.

You have no idea what you were thinking. A man like that is dangerous. You don’t need his name or anything else. You can tell just by looking at him.

You’re not the sort to associate with the type. You didn’t think your neighbour was either. Then again, you only know Hughie because he dropped a sock in front of your door. He didn’t stay to chat as he snatched it and chased that pretty blonde inside.

You turn and stand on your toes to see through the peephole. He’s gone but you don’t dare go out and make sure. You’ll do best not to show your face again. Just drink your tea and hide, like you always do.

#the boys #billy butcher #dark billy butcher #dark!billy butcher #billy butcher x reader #series #drabble

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dabisbratz · 2 years ago

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𝐼𝒩 𝒯𝐼𝑀𝐸 (𝒜𝐿𝐿 𝐹𝐿𝒪𝒲𝐸𝑅𝒮 𝐹𝒜𝒞𝐸 𝒯𝐻𝐸 𝒮𝒰𝒩)— leon s. kennedy x male reader

w.c: ~5.2k

warning: pwp ( porn with plot ), jealousy, exes-to-lovers, oral, phone sex ( ? ), softdomtop!leon, subbottom!reader, re2r leon, dirtytalk, praise/degradation, spanking, fingering, amab reader, light feminization, riding, blowjobs, creampie, leon’s big but doesn’t know it, finger-sucking, finger-hooking, set after re2r n before re4r, krauser mentions, mentions of alcohol, throatpie, d/s dynamic, unprotected sex ( wear condoms! ), aftercare ! ♡

sonny says..: the urge to add a daddy kink to this was so. so very!! strong . had to stay focused.. this is already.. sovery.. self indulgent..

Confronting him was the hard part. It’d been a while since you’d seen Leon, your ex-boyfriend, and you couldn’t help but feel like there was something missing. It was him, you know now— you’ve always known — but you weren’t sure you had the heart to face him. It was you who ended it after all, you who’d sent him down a heartbreak and alcohol induced rabbit hole that could only be documented briefly through a few voicemails and delivered texts. Even after traveling all this way, burning your cash like it grew on trees, trudging through the rainy streets of this random city, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was the right decision.

You couldn’t take it. The voicemails, the messages, the audio messages full of incoherent sobs and pleads. Being away from him, the same man who’d left you jumping for joy. The same man who’d lit sparks in your chest and released butterflies in your stomach. The same man who’d smile at you in the dead of night, genuine and bright, as he told you he’d loved you a million times over. Leon, whose hands were soft and warm on your skin, so gentle and patient. Like no one you’ve ever met, your heart squeezes in your chest. Leon, Leon, Leon.

Was this out of line?

But it’s too late to turn back now, because your hand is curling into a tight fist as you knock on the fourth motel door all night. Once, twice, three times. You’re ready to back out, to run before whoever’s residing here can open the door and, most likely, slam the door in your face with a distasteful choice of words.

But the door opens.

“There’s an extra. . . Uh, umbrella by the mailbox. Looks like you could use it!” He starts, eyes sparkling despite the dim lighting and narrowed space they’re peeking from. It sounds almost rehearsed, like you’re not the first person to knock on his door tonight. And, for a reason you know all too well, the thought stings.

His eyelashes are just as long as you remember them, curled upward and batting against the thin layer of baby-fat adorning his cheeks in a way that looks dreamy and slow. Like he’s relaxed, or perhaps tired. Nonetheless, his pretty, round eyes are undeniably his and hard to miss, you find yourself at a loss for words. You’re lost in the deep pools of blue, bleeding indigo and inky black of his irises matching the recently done-over roadways in a way that feels just as fresh.

Leon looks reminiscent of a puppy, though he always has, with his thick brown eyebrows pinched at each beginning in a way that can only mimic confusion. Or concentration, even. Almost as if it’s detrimental to him that you know there’s an umbrella there for you, for anyone, who needs it. That it’s important you know— with him around— you’ll be safe. He’s barely changed since you’d last seen him in person, the moles on his cheeks and throat unmoved, soft tufts of brown hair swept to the side as normal, and pink, plump lips that curl upward in a way that’s so comforting you could cry. Leon, your Leon, who smiles warmly, lips pulled into a sweet and inviting grin as the apples of his cheeks round out. Your eyes travel to the dimple dead center of his chin, prominent and defining. The perfect place to slot your thumb, really, to hold his chin and lose yourself in his azure eyes.

Even with the pitter patter of rain soaking into your already soaked clothes, this is the warmest you’ve ever felt in the last few months. His presence keeps you warm. Kept you warm.

“Leon.” It’s all you can say, breathless as the air is snatched from your lungs and excuses die on your tongue. What could you even say? Sure, you’d practiced it all in your head before arriving— I’m sorry, I miss you, what happened to us? It’s all easier to piece together in your head in contrast to actually saying it.

There’s a routinely lean against the doorframe as he shifts his weight from one leg to the other, and he’s truly looking at you now, opposed to the clear umbrella sat taut beneath his motel’s mailbox. With a flash of lightning he blinks, freckle and mole dusted cheeks set alight for just a mere second as his breath is caught in his closing throat.

“Oh. . . It’s you,” His sharp adam’s apple bobs with an even sharper swallow, and his pinched eyebrows go lax for a brief moment before tightening back up. “. . .Okay. Hi.”

“Hi, Lee.” You mimic, awkwardly shifting to the side. Still in his casual clothes, you presume, Leon looks comfortable as he sports baggy, blue jeans and a white tank top. Almost too comfortable, the fabric straining against his chest and only ever relaxing the closer it delves by his armpits, flowing despite being trapped beneath his wide ribcage and thick biceps. There’s a heavy vein cascading around it, disappearing under his skin only to reappear by his forearms and soft hands. With pink dusted fingertips, one hand is closed around the gold doorknob of his motel room.

You expect him to close it in your face. To slam the door after telling you to leave, with anger painting his soft, pretty features until they’ve hardened into cold stone. But he doesn’t. Instead, he’s opening it a bit wider, no longer leaning on the doorframe as he extends an arm to fully open the door. To fully see you, and you swear his posture is much more relaxed after his gaze has focused on your face.

“You look,” His gaze flickers from your lips to your eyes, and suddenly you’re failing to form vowels on your tongue. Either way you continue, “You look good,” stiffening as you gesture toward his general direction. “You always do. Anyway. . .”

“Thanks,” He’s much too sweet for your liking, smiling at you like you hadn’t broken his heart just a few months prior. His voice is breathy with upcoming laughter as he steps to the side and invites you in. “You too. Y’know, without the rain.”

You’re in over your head, shuffling inside the dimly lit room with heavy steps. The front door opens directly to the small living-room, a small carton of Chinese takeout resting beside a hearty sized weight on the coffee table. What now? You came into this hoping he’d yell at you— maybe give you a reason to turn around and never look back. But he’s not, he’s inviting you in like. . . Like an old friend. The door is shut and locked with a small click, Leon’s form moving from behind you with his large hand ghosting over your lower back.

A shockwave travels up your spine when his palm makes contact with your waist, only for a brief moment. You can’t think straight, watching the muscles in his back ripple and writhe through his shirt. Chocolate tufts of hair rest at the nape of his neck, short and soft. It’s like you were running your fingers through them just a week ago, blades of freshly trimmed hair tickling your fingertips. Right there, he’s so right there, but almost completely out of reach.

“I’m sorry.” It’s all you can say, over and over, until your nose begins to sting and your eyes grow glassy. Then it’s Leon’s turn to look apologetic, hair swaying as he fully turns to face you. Really, he has nothing to be sorry for. You’re so incredibly selfish.

“I can’t,” He pauses to take a breath, and you feel your heart splitting in two. But his tone is soft and warm, tilting with breathy and almost bitter laughter. “I can’t stay mad at you. And believe me, I tried.”

So he’s willing to talk about it. Your face visibly lights up before you can do anything to mask it, every word you’ve been trying to conjure up suddenly speeding past your tongue, “I want us to talk ab—”

“So,” Leon’s face contorts into something forlorn, like he’s weaving unsavory words together in his head. Words he’s never imagined himself saying. “Does he. . . Does he, uh, fuck you good?”

Huh.

“What?” The question falls flat and sour on your tongue, much more like a blank statement than a question. You’re not sure who ‘he’ is, let alone what led to the question in general, but you’re not exactly given much time to think about it either. The brunette steps forward, wide shoulders shifting with a heavy, clothed stride. His freshly bitten lips are released from his pearly teeth, plump and glossy. Closer now, Leon still smells reminiscent of woodsy lavender and minty mouthwash. Despite how faint it lingers in the air, it somehow manages to overwhelm your senses. He smells like home.

He doesn’t miss a beat this time, long eyelashes splayed out on his cheek as he stares down at your lips, eyebrows furrowed.

“Does he?” His head tilts to the side, questioning. You’d take it as an innocent question had it not been for his lips, pulled into a tight line that reeks of jealousy. His eyes have hardened, baby blue to gunmetal gray. His shoulders relax when you shake your head, hands suddenly restless by your side. “Use your words.”

It’s usually accompanied by a ‘please?’ or ‘for me?’

A whimper leaves your lips, soft and sweet and completely unwarranted. He softens.

“I know you can do it for me,” His eye contact is dangerous, relentless as he watches you stumble over your own whimpers and words. “Can’t you?”

“No,” You swallow hard, letting the brunette trap you in his heat. There is no ‘ he ’, no one taking Leon’s rightfully earned place by your side— whether it be in bed or not. That’s why you’ve come all this way, after all. But you play along anyway, desperate to be good. For Leon. “Not like you do, Lee.”

You’re whining now, tears bubbling in your eyes for so many reasons you can’t put together. Ultimately because you need him, because you feel bad for needing him— because maybe you don’t deserve the luxury of needing him. Apologies tumble into a tight ball of hiccups and sobs, and it’s only the thumbs rubbing away your tears that bring you back. Maybe you’re apologizing for fucking someone you haven’t, lost in the role he’s given you.

“I’m just glad to see you. Glad you’re here.” There’s so much he means to tell you, so much you haven’t heard. Raccoon city, the training program he’s been recruited into, why he’s even here in the first place. Sure, maybe he’s much too forgiving. But it’s you. And he’s not letting go again. But there’s more to it, there’s more you need. Venturing out here on your own, probably without letting anyone know, you’re reckless. Acting without thinking, and he can’t have that. He can’t turn you down, not when you’re so clearly in need of a gentle, guiding hand. Not when he misses you. Leon cuts off your apologies with a small kiss, gentle and sweet enough to have you chasing after his lips when he pulls away.

Your voice sounds needy and saccharine sweet as you lean forward, breathing in his airy scent with a wispy, “Leon. . .”

“What do you want, baby?” The nickname slips before he can catch it, but you don’t seem to mind. “What is it?”

“Want. . I want you.”

“But I’m right here? His laugh is genuine this time, lips splitting into a smile as his thumb rubs smooth circles across your cheekbone. “You have me.”

His hands are on you now, giving your body small squeezes of affirmation. Leon’s much bigger than he carries himself— big hands, wide shoulders, thick thighs, sturdy chest, heavy cock. Big all over, really, despite the way he’s able to run around and disappear like it’s nothing— despite how quickly he carries himself.

The thought as you reeling, choking on a sob that earns an immediate coo in response. There’s just so much, and it’s all piling up. But Leon’s here, he’s here like he always has been, he’s here to make it better. He’s always been so good at that. He takes you out of your head, turns it into mush while you float on a cloud and beg for more of. . . Well, you’re not too sure. But you know he can feel you throbbing against his thigh, hard and needy as he shakes his head with faux disapproval.

“That your phone in your pocket or are you just excited to see me?” It’s a stupid joke you both know the answer to, so he doesn’t waste any time laughing over it. You’re nodding anyway, bobbing your head up and down with wet eyelashes— you already look so ruined.

You’re wearing too much clothes, soaked and dripping onto his floor in a way that has the man grimacing as he peels it from your body. You’re much colder than you thought, too, goosebumps trailing down your skin as his big hands rub warm, soothing shapes into your forearm. Lee’s always been like that, the type to offer up his jacket on a rainy day, the type to give you his coat on a snowy one. And you know, undoubtedly, you’d do the very same for him.

“He couldn’t reach those spots, could he?” The question is emphasized by a hearty squeeze to your behind, Leon’s hands dipping beneath your wet pants slipping under the band of your briefs to knead the plump mound of your ass. He’s grabbing handfuls, squishing the skin between fingers and spreading you apart. “Not like I can, huh? Not deep enough?”

With a soft moan you’re discarded of your pants, fists curled into the crisp white of Leon’s wifebeater. You’ll take anything he gives you and love it, but it’s you who should be apologizing. You who should feel the weight of his cock heavy on your tongue. You want the head slipping and sliding down your throat, you want your face streaked in tears and snot by the time he’s done it’s you.

Oh, how you’ve missed this. Leon’s cock is thick and sticky, pre beading at the pretty, pink tip and dripping down it’s fat head. You watch it drip, slow and shiny as it trails down his pulsing shaft. Weeping, his cock twitches with each open breath you blow against it, jumping as his balls tighten. They’re pretty and round, symmetrical on both sides, but not nearly as pretty as his shaft. Thick and curving upwards past his belly button, Leon’s cock has a sensitive vein you want to run your tongue over, trailing up from his balls to the tip, collecting the sticky precum as it falls down into your mouth.

“Pleasepleaseplease…” You trail off, eyes focused solely on the pretty, shiny head of his dick.

“Don’t need to beg, I’ll give it to you. All you want,” You stick out your tongue, cute and pink as you’re ready to suckle along the head of his cock, but instead you’re met with the warmth of his big hand gripping your jaw. His thumb latches onto your bottom lip, rubbing the soft skin as he blinks down at you, his voice smooth and buttery as he commands, “Slow and steady.”

The tip is smeared along your lips, slowly tracing your cupid's bow and bottom lip until a thin layer of pre has them glazed over and sticky. Your lips part, carrying a thin trail between them, as you finally take his cock into your mouth. He’s salty and somewhat bitter, spreading heavy along your tongue, and you can’t help but swallow around the head. His thighs tense, muscles flexing and rippling as his twitching hand finds the back of your head.

“So. . . so wet,” He’s gasping before you can fully take in the stretch of his cock, hips twisting as his eyes flutter closed. It’s been a while, you can tell, with the way they’re clenched tight and his hand is morphing into a fist full of your hair. Your spit bubbles and pools around his cock, slick and wet, sliding between the seams of your lips and dripping down your throat, down your sternum. “Those. . noises. And you’re so.. cute.”

He offers a sharp thrust that has him disappearing down your tight throat, squeezing just right along his twitching shaft. Your jaw aches the further he’s pushed inside, until your nose is buried in his trimmed, gingerbread pubes. It’s obvious he’s trying to be gentle, with the way he lets out a hushed apology for fucking your throat so deep, with the way he’s whining out a constant stream of “You’re such a good boy.”

Praise. He’s so good at it, it’s got you absentmindedly drooling and gagging on his dick. You’re eager to drag out more, running your tongue along his big, veiny cock until Leon’s throwing his head back— adam’s apple bobbing as he lets out a pleased moan. His cock is filling your empty mouth, using you like some sort of pre-lubed fleshlight with his balls slapping against your chin in wet plaps. Collecting drool, it froths between your lips and his cock, bubbly and white until it’s being rubbed along your cheeks.

“That’s it, good boy, just a little more. . .”

Gasping on his cock, Leon’s hand keeps you buried against his pubes until your throat is squeezing and contracting, milking his cock and wrapped plush around the thick head. You can feel it, each twitch and throb of his heavy cock, even when he’s cumming down your throat, sticky and thick ropes shooting down your tongue and sticking to the roof of your mouth. You want to show him. You’re marked for good, offering a few hollow sucks to his spasming cock before pulling off.

“Oh, baby,” Leon’s voice is just as hoarse as your own, eyes following the display of cum resting hot and sticky on your tongue. “Think you can do something for me?”

He leads you up with a gentle hand, wrapped around your throat until you’re sat taut in his lap, thighs on each side of his waist. Leon’s hands are impeccably soft, even as he’s pushing them past your lips and spreading the saltiness of them along your tongue with a gentle, “suck.” You’re eager to please, taking the warm digits in your mouth and separating them with your tongue. The squelches in return are loud and wet, a mixture of cum and drool leaving between the gaps of his fingers and your lips. Your eyelids feel heavy, brain foggy as he pushes them deeper into your mouth, just enough to have you gagging softly.

Then they’re gone.

In his own mouth now, he’s tasting remnants of his cum and pulling off his fingertips with a wet ‘pop!’while his free hand digs for the vanilla lube hidden somewhere in the couch.

“You’re gonna bounce on my fingers like a good boy,” both hands are at your briefs, tugging them down until there’s a loud ripping sound. Your eyes jet between Leon’s wide eyes and your tattered underwear, surprised. You’re not sure if he meant to do that, but it doesn’t matter, because your cock springs to life and jumps against your tummy. “Then my good boy’s gonna take it in his pussy. Okay?”

The question is barely registered but you’re nodding anyway, melting in the brunette’s strong embrace. His hands spread you open, one playing with the squishy flesh of your bum while the other’s slick fingers circle around your puckered entrance. With a wet ‘squilck’ the first finger is in, impossibly deep and hot as your gooey hole sucks it in further. You just can’t get enough, rocking your hips down to the last knuckle and grinding your cock against his own. There’s a sharp smack to your ass, the skin rippling under Leon’s quick palm as he groans, “Hnnh, so noisy n’ I barely started.”

His fingers have always been able to reach deeper than your own, sweet and tantalizing along your prostate as he finds it like he knows it, pressing and pressing and pressing until you’re seeing stars. He adds another, two in total, that slip past your velvety opening with almost no resistance. Usually you’d have to take a third, maybe, but he wants you to really feel it.

“Shh, sh. You hear it?” There’s another swat, stinging and loud as it hits the same exact spot. Your back arches beautifully, his fingers jolting deeper. You're quick to shake your head. “The dirty noises your hole’s makin’ while it takes my fingers?”

You’ll never get used to Leon’s cute face sputtering out such filthy words, it’s like whiplash. And you’re not entirely sure what he’s talking about, it’s hard to hear over the fog and sounds of your own babbling, but you can hear yourself answering anyway, “S’cause you fuck me so good.”

“Think it’ll be just as loud on my cock?”

“Even louder.” You whine, head falling forward into his thick shoulder as the head of his cock traces your slick, soft rim. There’s a cold trickle behind you, loud and squeaky— it’s more lube, enough to coat his cock, your ass, and then some. Enough to have the head of his cock catching on your entrance every time he slides it along your crack. There’s a soft kiss to your cheek, and a free hand creeps up your back to hold you there by the back of your head. You’re turning into a puddle, whining into the shell of Leon’s ear as his dick slides its first inch inside.

Your hole is so tiny. Even after being stretched full of his fingers, you’re gripping his cock like a vice. There’s a tiny, thin band where his head disappears into your warm hole, stretching and shining and sucking his dick further inside. You’re just so tight, sticky and inviting insides that feel like velvet around his thick, throbbing cock. Even as he tries to go slow, sucking in a sharp intake of breath through his teeth, Leon can’t get enough. His cheeks are flushed, deepening and blooming down his neck as he grips the globes of your ass and spreads them apart wide. Cold air runs along your hole, chilly enough to have you whining.

“F-hu-uuck, so tight,” He gasps, blinking rapidly as he watches your face fall into something floaty and, if he’s honest, cockdrunk. Twitching around him so much, you’re milking his cock for all it's got despite him barely being buried completely inside. Part of him wants to keep you on his tip, slipping it in and out your cute entrance until he’s shooting between the spheres of your ass, getting you sticky and hot with his cum. Marking you. “God, hhm, your pussy’s quivering around me so good…”

“Lee. . Leon, I can’t, want it so bad but I can’t. . .” You definitely can— in fact, you have. But he’s just so big, splitting you in two and whiting your brain out.

“Too much? Oh—haah— poor baby. Want me to stop?” He stills his hips, a breathless smile forming on his face when you try to take the reins. You lace your fingers with his own, squeezing hard as you rock your hips back and forth. “No? Then take it for me.”

Take it you do. Your body jerks as he fucks up into you, balls slapping against your ass and cock sliding against your prostate as sloppy, shallow sounds of your poor, drenched hole fill the room. Leon’s hair sticks to his forehead, stringy and disheveled as he whispers into your skin, grabbing handful after handful of your backside.

Beside you, his phone rings.

Leon nearly jumps out of his own skin, patting around the sofa to find his cell— trapped beneath a cushion. You don’t have time to read the Caller ID, something that begins with a ‘K’, but it’s clear he’s going to decline it. With the way he doesn’t spare a glance at you until after he’s got it in hand, and—

“Leon Kennedy.” His grip on your hips is enough to bruise, rocking your body down against his own. You can’t help but gasp, your thoughts spinning like clockwork in your head until your brain has gone light and airy like sugary, sweet cotton candy. All you can do is tighten around his dick, show Leon how much better you are than whoever’s on the phone. You can be good, you’re a good boy.

And you must’ve said it out loud, because he’s decided to busy your mouth with thick, sticky fingers. Even then, your voice isn’t nearly as loud as the wet squelching and slapping of skin against skin, his cock sliding in and out your puffy hole as lube gushes out around his dick in white ringlets. Like you’ve creamed on his cock, and if he looks close enough he can see it slip back inside with each thrust. You really are a good boy.

His fingers are hooked in your mouth, drawing pathetic sounds out of you until your eyes roll back into your skull and you can’t stop bouncing. Your thighs ache and burn but you want it so bad, your neglected cock stuttering along with your hips as he’s pushed deeper and deeper with every small ‘uh-huh!’ that leaves your lips.

“Yeah, that’s right,” He says into the phone, but it sounds more reserved for you. “Ah, yes sir. This job was. . . Christ, it was made for me!” He pulls the phone away for a brief moment. “This ass was made for me.”

His eyes are trained on you as he shoves his phone between his shoulder and ear, both hands on your hips to raise you on and off his cock. Your lip is bitten raw between your teeth, and you don’t realize he’s coaxing it free until he’s speaking, “Let ‘em hear who you belong to. Who’s that?”

“You! You, Leon. Leon.” Like a prayer, his name comes out slurred and crackly. An uninterrupted stream of titles and nicknames reserved just for him, your nails claw at his muscled back.

“That’s right, you’re mine,” There’s a hard, choppy thrust forward as he releases a hand to wrap it around your sensitive, weeping cock, “And this cock? This hole? Mine too.”

“Yeah, yeah, yours,” Clamping down on his shaft, your hand finds the small gap where his cock reappears. Your fingertips trace it, completely soaked but enough to have his balls tightening. “And you’re mine.”

“Fuckfuckfuck,” His phone falls to his side, hushed whines leaving the brunette’s strawberry lips. “All yours, whenever you want. Got that? My good boy gets to have his cock whenever he wants.”

His hand is fast and slick, his thumb running over your slit every so often just to watch the way your body convulses in response. But Leon’s sweet, he’s always been sweet to you, sweet enough to twist his fist the closer it gets to the tip. Sweet enough to tighten the grip he has around you when he gets to the base— when he can feel you’re about to cum.

“Oh, please!” With a dry sob you’re tugging at his wrist, wriggling your hips and falling back into his thick cock. “Wanna cum, Lee. Please let me cum, please.”

“Hey, hey. Don’t tap out now. You can cum for me when I say so, okay?” Your begging goes straight to his dick, pulsating and bullying the small bundle of nerves nestled in the heart shape of your ass. You can’t stop crying, handsome face covered in tears as you ride out the everlasting stretch of his cock forcing you open, just to leave you empty. Again, again, again.

You feel like molten lava, silky and warm as wet spurts of lube catch between the skin of your ass and his pelvis. He can’t take it, just as wrecked as you are when he feels his balls go rigid and impossibly full— he needs to claim you. Now.

His cum is warm— so thick and filling when he shoots right against your prostate. You’ve never felt more full in your life, your thighs lightly squeezing together in his lap as he releases your cock with one, two, three strokes. Your voice doesn’t sound like your own, loud squeals and cries of ‘Leon!’ as your cock twitches and pulses— cum leaking down his fingers as it catches along his fist. And he could be cruel, continuing to pump your cock past its limits. But instead he gauges your reaction with a few slow, experimental tugs— pulling away when your thighs start to shake a little too much.

“One more request for you, sweetheart.” He raises his hand, a slow drip of your own cum landing on his tummy. His hand is brought to your mouth, and Leon watches with an adoring coo as you lick it clean. It’s obvious you’re trying to stay present, trying not to sink too far deep into that sweet, mellow headspace he’s put you in.

“Thank you.” He says, though you’re much too tired to figure out just what he’s thanking you for. Leon pulls you off his cock despite your absentminded protests, blowing air through protruding cheeks when your rim is reluctant to let go.

“Mhm.” Your tongue is thick like molasses, eyes slowly blinking as you’re moved to sit beside him.

“Can I see, please?” He’s already maneuvering you onto your back and spreading your legs wide by your thighs and ankles, yet his pretty eyes flicker up to meet your face, almost as if he’s actually asking. They drastically brighten when you offer a tiny, well-fucked nod. His hands spread you open, watching his cum dribble from your used hole in collective globs. Makes you feel small and properly kept, you prop yourself up on your elbows as your pretty hole clenches around air.

Leon closes his eyes like he’s trying not to cream his (metaphorical) pants all over again, his thumb rubbing a sizable glob into your skin. Your legs close around his hand, holding him still as you whine.

“I know, I know. I’ll be gentle.” There’s a sweet, simple kiss placed to the back of your thigh before Leon stands, disappearing into what your lidded eyes can’t quite make out. But you know you’re whining, something about a ‘sorry’ or an ‘I made a mistake’ before his big, warm hands are back to hold onto your own.

Something wet and dripping— a cloth, is rubbed into your skin, slow and tender and later replaced by sprinkled kisses.

“Can I. . . stay, Lee?” You want to wince at the sound of your own voice, but you don’t think you have the energy to do so yet. You’re being pulled into his arms, sturdy and comforting— even with the faint smell of sex and musk damp on his skin.

“You’d be crazy to think I’m letting you go again.”

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