#Do I get the same in return? Hell nah

[bisexualseraphim]

Sometimes I’ll have a really nice day and then I come home and no one asks how my day was or how I’m doing or shows any general interest in me and it’s just like wow I truly don’t matter to anyone on this planet do I

[i-loved-silly]

WOLVERINE x READER x DEADPOOL — fuckup twinsies

dp&w spoilers!!

So I had a silly idea. Sorry if it’s out of character, I haven’t written for canon characters in a fat while but these two are stuck in my head. Enjoy :3

POV: you’re a dimension hopper : sent to the Void as a punishment for doing your thing. Damnit

Dust. Sand. Desert. That was all you knew ever since you were banished here. The place you were basically forced to call home—funnily enough, (actually it’s rather sad) you had forgotten what your real home was. A large, and I mean LARGE amount of timeline touching and dimension hopping does that to you.

By spending years of visiting dimensions and maybe messing a couple things up, you damaged your own timeline. Simply because you wanted to take Mr Captain America’s shield back to your home dimension. What can you say, a little artifact doesn’t hurt, right?

Except it did.

Now you’re stuck here, and honestly? It’s fine. You had nothing to return to anyway. At least you thought. TVA explained it that way, anyways. Everything was fine. You spent your years here surviving and avoiding Cassandra Nova by making your own little underground hobbit hole. How cute.

Everything was the same everyday—you hid out, occasionally left to find food and materials, came back to safety. Until one day you heard something while out scavenging—almost like distant yells? From above you??—You looked up and was shocked to see two figures falling out of the sky and barreling straight for you.

"OOMF --" You were thrown onto the sand on your back, you swore you felt a couple bones break...or something. All your belongings in your little ripped backpack went flying around you and the others stabbed into your back. Then there was the weight on top of you. A muscular , red, and talkative weight.

"Owww, oh fuck, that hurt. I hit bones. I just hit someon--oh." Deadpool groaned, snapping his elbows back into place to get a good look at you. He blinked. "Well lookey here, who the hell are you? Wait, did i kill them?" He gasped as he saw your pained scowl.

Wade frantically shook you by the shoulders. Getting hit by something from that high should have killed you. You coughed, ugh...your whole body hurt. You don’t remember if you gave yourself overpowered abilities before hopping into this dimension…or the last one. Was it during the time you went to the Loki-verse? Season one, episode five? Nah.

"Get off of them," Logan grunted, dusting himself off from his spot a few feet away. Hey, at least you weren’t hit by both of them. "See what you did, you fucking idiot? Get away from them."

"Woah, okay! First of all, it's not like I wanted to crash into someone like a wrecking ball, got it? I am not Miley. But look, they're fine!" He shook you by the shoulder again and you spat out a bit of blood.

"Guhh..." You groaned, rolling over. Yep, your bones were definetly crushed.

"We're not here to poke around, Wade. We're on a mission." Logan glanced at your beat up form wearily--oh well, if you weren't dead by now you'll be fine.

"Fine," Wade let go of you, letting your body flop back onto the sand with another "thud" on impact. "Oops, Im sooo sorry. I-..oh come on! Don't you have at least a little bit of a curious tickle? They can help us." He whined, gesturing to you and to Logan.

"They're a stranger, bub. Just...leave em there." He hesitated, then grunted and turned the other way.

You groaned in pain again--seems like they're your only lines--and sat up on your elbows. Your head was pounding and suddenly it was too bright outside. "W-wait..I’m fine..just let me.." You pressed your palm against your forehead.

Wade leaned down in front of you, placing his hands on his knees. "Oh, you're alive. Good. Why are you here, little buddy?"

You tried laughing nervously but a cough interrupted you. Right, there was sand in your lungs. "I uh...couple years ago I touched a timeline I shouldn't have. More like, a lot of timelines. Kinda-sorta fucked up."

Wade let out a loud gasp and placed his hands on the sides of his face, then made a giddy noise. "Eek! Fuck up twinsies! You heard that, Logan? We aren't the only dimensional fuck ups!" He was oddly enthusiastic, the scruffy guy in the distance wasn't so much.

Actually now that you think about it, he seemed a bit enraged. Just a bit. “Who the hell is we?”

"Who are you again?" You muttered, grunting as you worked on standing up. Wade extended a hand and you took it, before you could thank him—he quite literally yanked you up by the arm like a fucking ragdoll. You hit his chest and your eyes widdened.

"How the heck do you not know me? I mean you probably don’t know him, that sexy beast of a man is Logan, professionally Wolverine. Not a very good one though. Anyway, I'm Wade Wilson, but you can call me Wade. Or Deadpool. Or the Merc with a Mouth. Or the Chimichanga Bandit. Or—"

"Wade, shut the fuck up."

Wait.

“Wait, you’re Deadpool and Wolverine? Like the real ones?”

PART 2

[jamiethebeeart]

“But it’s not gay if he’s dead.” Danny’s head whipped around to stare down the street at two guys walking on the other side. He thought he was free of hearing that phrase ever again. Heart thudding in his ears, he crossed the street to tail these two guys. There was no way? Right? I mean Danny was something like 1,000 miles away from his hometown. There was no way two random guys in the big city of Gotham would’ve ever heard of –

“I don’t know man, it’s never been confirmed whether or not the “big guy” was actually… ya know?”

Danny seethed in frustration at the vague conversation. He stepped around a group of kids as he barely made the end of the crosswalk countdown.

“Nah, Red makes too many uncomfortable jokes about death to not have died.”

Danny sped up, weaving in between people to catch up before he lost the conversation in the din.

“It’s Gotham, we all make jokes about death.”

“Ya, but not like him. He seems to revel in them, like he actually kicked the bucket, permanent-like, not like those people who – I don’t know – cardiac arrest and are technically dead for a couple minutes until the EMTs get to them or whatever.”

A car puttered down the road – releasing a huge plume of exhaust in between Danny and the guys. Danny sighed, fully intending to return to his original path with the reassurance that they weren’t talking about Phantom. Then the next damned sentence came out of one of their mouths.

“Ok sure let’s say you’re right. Is it necrophilia if his body started decaying before coming back?”

‘Fuck it’ Danny thought as he turned back around. He had to see how this conversation ended – definitely not because the answer to that question kept him up night. Absolutely not. Call him a cat because he was just curious and not all at invested in the answer.

“Oh! Dude, shut the fuck up! Why would you – that’s disgusting! Are you kidding me!”

“Answer the question Mr. It’s Not Gay if He’s Dead – necrophiliac: yes or no?”

“No? Have you seen Red’s body? No way a dead guy could have muscles like that – I mean you gotta have working bodily functions right? To build muscles or whatever the fuck? Like have you seen his abs? Or, shit, just his arms - I mean swoon worthy, what I wouldn’t give to have him hold -”

“…….”

“- me…. What are ya looking at me like that for?”

“When, exactly, have you seen his abs.”

“Aaaah - that’s not the point –“

“Sure as hell hope that’s the point.” Red Hood stepped out of an alleyway they were walking past. Even with a helmet on, Danny swore the guy stared straight at him. He was so fucked getting caught listening in to this conversation – could he play it cool? Danny was cool right? Yeah, he could totally pull this off, act totally normal and keep walking. Hunching his shoulders some and turning his body away from the three men, he walked past. Or tried to. Red Hood caught the back of his shirt, stopping him from getting away. Unless Danny was willing to expose his powers to get out this situation, the best he could do was play dumb and hope Hood let him go without too much hassle.

“Boss!”

“Hey Boss – you didn’t happen to only hear the second half of that, did you?”

Red Hood growled, “the part about necrophilia or the part about my abs?”

Danny twisted his head back to see Goon #1 turn pale. “Uuuh – uh- um,” met Red Hood’s question.

A choreographed roll of the eyes, “Better question, why are you talking shit out on the streets and not paying attention to your little stalker,” Hood gestured to Danny.

“I’m not a stalker!” Danny huffed. His eyes widened. All three guys looked over at him. ‘SHIT’ Danny thought. He did not want to catch anyone’s attention more than he had, much less all three.

Goon No. 2 looked at him, as he resumed his squirming in Red Hood’s grasp, “So who are you?”

Danny glanced up to see Red Hood staring down at him. Today just wasn’t his day. “Hood,” Danny blurted out.

Silence. The tips of Danny’s ears turned bright red

“Uhm, I mean, a tourist?” “In Crime Alley, kid?”

"I'm not a kid," Danny muttered.

Hood shook Danny’s shirt hard enough to also shake Danny himself. “Try again. I’ve seen you around often enough to know that’s a lie.”

“It’s true!” Danny lied. “I was visiting the city, my wallet got pickpocketed with most of my money, so now I’m… kind of…. Stuck here? Indefinitely?”

Goon No. 1 laughed at him, “do ya think we’re dumb? You have a cellie right? No way you’re ‘stuck here’.”

“Exactly, so who do you work for? Penguin?” A jab towards Danny’s face. “Riddler?” Another jab and a step towards Danny. “Is it Two Face?” Another, even closer jab. Danny went cross-eyed looking at the finger in front of his nose.

“Back off,” Hood said. Danny breathed a sigh of relief at being given some space. And then the next words came out of Red Hood’s mouth, “Get lost you two – and stop gossiping on the street. And you-“ Hood turned back to Danny, “ – you’re coming with me.” Danny gulped. Today was going down as another shit day in the books for sure.

[lovebugism]

omggg im craving a halloween themed , rockstar!eddie x shy!reader at a halloween party , matching costumes and everything & he sees a ton of guys hitting on her & is like ???? my baby?

here you go lovie! hope you like it! — eddie takes his girl to a bar on halloween and gets jealous when guys hit on you like you're not already his (shy!reader, rockstar!eddie, established relationship, 1k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

The world didn’t know you before today.

You’ve been just Eddie Spaghetti’s girlfriend for so long — but now you’re Eddie Munson, up-and-coming rockstar and lead of Corroded Coffin’s girlfriend. The title carries a certain weight with it. You wear it with pride, but it weighs you down just the same. 

What’s weird about tonight, though, is you’re not sharing Eddie with the rest of the world like you thought you would. He’s having to share you, because everyone and their goddamn brother’s been all over you all night. 

Apparently, your coquettish rendition of The Bride of Frankenstein is making everyone else as crazy as it’s making him.

“God, go save your girlfriend, Munson,” Gareth jokes across the booth, laughing into his drink as he watches yet another guy stop you at the bar. “At least one of these assholes is gonna steal her from you.”

“She’s not property, dude. She can’t get stolen,” Jeff scolds from beside him, then flashes Eddie a sheepish glance. “But, yeah, the odds aren’t in your favor, Eds.”

Eddie pays no mind to his friends’ teasing — or the anger swirling like fire in the pit of his stomach. 

“Nah. She’s alright…” he mumbles into the rim of his glass. The whiskey burns his throat going down. It doesn’t match the flame rising in his chest at the sight of his precious girl talking to some douchebag dressed like Elvis Presley.

He wouldn’t say it if he didn’t think you weren’t a hundred percent fine. These bozos aren’t trying anything with you — hell, they can barely make conversation with you. You’re just entertaining it because you’re the sweetest thing on the earth.

It’s laughable more than anything.

He’s humored by it all. Not jealous. Definitely not jealous.

“Yeah, who’s the famous one here, again?” Jeff’s girlfriend jokes. She’d left to go to the bathroom with you but came back alone when you got stuck with dollar-store Elvis. She points to the rest of them with a long, manicured finger. “It’s you guys, right? Because I can’t really tell.”

“Fuck off…” Eddie grouses, forcing a grin while the rest of them laugh.

You return then, with a drink in hand and a frown on your face at the sight of your suddenly grumpy boyfriend. “You okay?” you wonder quietly, smoothing down your skirt when you slide into the booth.

The boy moves over to make room for you. “‘M fine,” he answers with a mumble that makes you assume otherwise. 

You reach a hand to his face, smoothing fluffy curls behind his ear. His cheek is warm against your palm. His faded seafoam Frankenstein paint job smears on your wrist.

“‘M sorry for taking so long. Some guy stopped me on the way over. I didn’t wanna be rude.”

Eddie shakes his head. Not a single part of him blamed you.

“It’s okay, babe. Not your fault.” 

He’s full-on beaming now. Just because you called that asshole “some guy.” It feels good to hear you say that, to know that that’s all he is to you — just some fuckin’ guy. You won’t remember him later, if you still do even now.

Honestly, you’ll be lucky to remember your own name at the end of tonight.

“He get that drink for you?” Eddie asks, nodding to the frosted glass in your fist.

You shrug. “Yeah. He bought it, but I watched the bartender make it, so it’s fine.”

He nods, proud and sparkling with it. “Good.”

“What is it?” Gareth wonders, squinting across the table.

“An Old-Fashioned.”

“You hate whiskey,” Eddie laughs, licking the alcohol from the plush of his bottom lip.

“Well, yeah, but he asked what I liked, and I didn’t know what to say, so I just told him your favorite drink,” you ramble, all mousy, as you drag the falling sleeve of your corset back up your shoulder. 

Your cheeks heat with embarrassment, still a bit overwhelmed by the attention.

Eddie’s grinning something fierce beside you. His chest swells with so much pride he thinks he might burst.

“Aren’t you just the sweetest fuckin’ thing?” he singsongs with a rosy grin, wrapping the ripped sleeve of his arm around your shoulders to pull you closer. 

Then he kisses you. Like, really kisses you. 

It’s deep and intimate and sloppy. He opens your mouth with his and slithers his tongue inside. He tastes like bitter-sweet alcohol. You get drunk on him accordingly. 

The rest of the table gags.

Your lips click audibly when Eddie pulls away. His smile glistens with a mixture of your saliva, lips a deeper shade of pink and slightly swollen. You wipe your chin with the back of your mouth — some of Eddie’s face paint comes with it.

“Where’s he now?” the boy asks with a mischievous squint in his deep chocolate eyes.

You shrug, totally uncaring and just wanting to be kissed. “I dunno.”

“Still at the bar,” Gareth answers for you, snickering to himself. “Giving your girl the sex eyes.”

Your face screws up in disgust. “Sex eyes?” you repeat, nose scrunched.

The group laughs.

“Think you can get him to buy you a round? You know, for the table?” Eddie asks you. His fingers trace shapes on your bare shoulder. You have to fight back a shiver.

“You want me to go talk to him?” you gape, like you must’ve heard him wrong.

“I want you to go get us drinks, sweet thing. Work your magic, you know?”

He’s not in the most right headspace right now. You know this. He’s still high on the post-show adrenaline and mellow on the alcohol.  He’s jealous and in love with you and aflame with hatred for bootleg Elvis Presley. He gets rash when he’s raging, risky and unpredictable — a deadly concoction.

“Eds…” you hum quietly, brows scrunched like the idea pains you. “I don’t wanna make you mad…”

“You won’t make me mad, sweet thing,” Eddie assures, squeezing your shoulder. He presses a sanguine peck to your waiting mouth, then his voice gets all low. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll reward you after.”

He smacks one last kiss to your buzzing lips.

You blink at him until your senses return to you. You slide out from the booth and saunter back to Some Guy, who’s seemingly been waiting on your return this whole time. 

There’s a sudden sway to your hips now, but it’s not for him. 

It’s for Eddie.

The boy with the wild hair back at the booth, missing splotches of his face paint and wearing your lipstick knows this too.

[boopjuice]

Human's Are Space Orcs: Sticks and Stones

Tools are hardly uncommon in the Galactic Federation. Without them, not a single species would have been able to advance, create sustainable food sources, societies, spacecraft. But, for most species, tools have advanced alongside the species.

"Human Jane, what is that you are holding?"

"A stick."

"... Why do you have a stick?"

"In case I need to scratch my back, duh. Or to hit the engine if it acts up again."

Humans, as with much else, didn't get the memo.

Chi'l'zak had spent several cycles with humans, even spending time on their native planet and some of their interstellar colonies. Their weather was horrifying, and their culture so diverse it gave xem whiplash. It was on one of these trips that xe learned of the human's particular affinity for tools.

Xe was at what Human Sarah had called a 'beach' at one of the colonies, and xe saw as an adolescent human began to dig a fire pit. Except, instead of using a shovel, he had grabbed a nearby piece of driftwood and began to use it to dig. Xe was certain the efforts would be fruitless, the stick being rounded and not suitable for digging. But in twenty minutes there was a pit a meter deep, deeper if one counted the walls the adolescent human had made from the excavated sand.

Xe had brushed it off as human stubbornness and continued with xir trip unfazed, until Human Lake had wanted to go hiking. Chi'l'zak agreed, not truly understanding the point of simply walking up and down mountains but willing to try the experience and see if maybe xe could gain some anthropological notes on the subject. Halfway up the mountain Human Lake called a halt. he wandered into the trees for a moment and returned with a stick almost as tall as he was.

"We can rest here for a while. I've been needing a new walking stick, and this one's just gorgeous."

"But, Hu- Lake, why do you need walking assistance? You have been perfectly fine up until this point. Are you injured? Should I apply first aid?"

"Nah, I'm fine, 'zak. I don't need one, they're just nice to lean on when you're hiking. Plus their fun to have. makes me feel like a wizard, y'know? But I gotta smooth this one down if I'm gonna use it, or I'll have splinters in my hands for days."

Chi'l'zak didn't mind the rest, and took the time to simply observe the flora and fauna in the area, absorb some nutrients from xir pack of supplies, and-

*scrape* *scrape* *scrape*

As Chi'l'zak looked over, xe found Human Lake seated on the ground, legs fcrossed in a manner that was normal for humans but made xir fur stand on end. He had balanced the stick across his legs, and was scraping it with a rock he'd apparently found nearby.

"Human Lake, what are you doing?"

"Smoothing out the stick, like I said." He didn't look up from the task he'd set himself too, continuing to scrape the rock along the stick, occasionally hitting it against small branches to knock them off.

"Yes, but why are you using a rock? Surely there are better tools. I have heard tell of a common smoothing agent, 'sand paper,' that would be better suited to the task."

"Don't have sandpaper on me. Besides, the premise works the same. Rub two rough things together and the softer things gets smooth. Sure, a rock isn't going to have as fine a grain as some sandpapers, but it works in a pinch."

"but we are not in a 'pinch', as you say. We are perfectly capable of taking the stick back with us and getting sand paper."

"Look, the rock works just fine for me, and it's cheaper. No point wasting money when i have the tools to do the job already."

"Human lake, that is a rock. That isn't a tool."

"Sure it is, if you get creative enough. You can use it to smooth things, hit things, if you angle it like this you can probably use it to dig, and you could always throw it. Hell, I'll bet you this end here could be used to open that stupid finnicky pressure lock Jacob's been complaining about."

"But it isn't mean to do those things. It could damage the lock worse, or break the wrong things."

"Look, 'zak, i appreciate the concern, but a tool is what you make of it. If I've got some nails I need hammered down and all I've got to hand is a rock, then I'm going to use the rock until the rock breaks or the nails are hammered. Just because we have tools better designed for a task doesn't always mean we need to use them. Sometimes old ways work just fine."

Chi'l'zak was quiet the rest of the time Human Lake used the stone to smooth the surface of his new walking stick, and had quite the interesting talk with him the rest of the hike about old human tools, how they were used, selected or constructed. Xe learned about spears and bows and how some still used those tools for hunting. Learned of tools used in leatherworking, all made of bone since the first leatherworkers had found nothing better to work with, and modern human's hadn't either.

"Anthropological Notes: Humans are excellent at creating and using tools, as are most other species. However, humans are slow to abandon old types of tools, some using the same methods prevalent centuries ago in order to complete a task simply because they have the old tools to hand. Humans are also adept at improvising tools, able to use one item for many different functions depending on their needs.

In relation to Incident 739, human crewmembers should not be allowed to bring items such as sticks or rocks on board without prior authorization, lest the engine be completely dismantled again."

[miniaturesuitgladiator]

What if neglected mk reader was part of the tournament before they left their world, like Scorpion's 'training' was throwing them headfirst into battle against some of the more 'side' characters like Reptile or Frost? (Ik they are important to the actual mk storyline, but they arent in this story.)

I keep imagining that someone from reader's original world coming back for revenge for beating them as a kid and declaring mortal kombat, and since its been declared- the same rules apply, neither party is able to back down even if they wanted to. So here these two are, going at it to the death- how is the batfamily gonna react?

I definitely think that scorpion would make little mortal kombat reader fight stronger opponents. Like reptile or frost. But like keep in mind that mortal kombat reader was like 6-7 years old when she left.

So like imagine losing to a six or seven year old? That would be shameful and would probably take away your honor.

Especially in the mortal kombat universe. Where everyone fights to be the best. Like you probably shamed there name and their families name.

It was like they lost to a baby. Which they kinda did. Like it was so bad that no one even thought they were good enough to fight against.

So of course there waiting for revenge. But like I'd like to imagine that it's not that simple for just anyone to travel another universe.

But like when reader returns to mortal kombat world? Oh they have a whole lot of enemies waiting to gain back their honor.

And the best part? Reader doesn't even remember fighting them. Like..

" Y/N Hasashi you took everything from me. I challenge you to a duel to the death."

And readers just standing there confused because like who the hell are these people and why do they want to fight me?

"Bro I don't even know you"

And their just like tf? She ruined my life and she don't even remember me.

But readers just standing there all nonchalant as of she didn't just get challenged to a fight to the death.

"Bro last time I was here I didn't even know my ABC."

But like can you imagine batfam finally finds you after finding away to travel to the mortal kombat universe. And they see reader just nonchalantly talking to a huge reptile who's literally talking about how their gonna tear reader apart.

And readers just using all her brainrot that she got from gotham to annoy the huge terrifying reptile.

"Wait so your saying I ripped off your arm?"

"Yes that's exactly what I'm saying."

"Cap. I was like three feet tall last time I was here."

And their just staring at reader like 😒😒😒

"........."

And bruce who's the most shocked of all because like what do you mean you teared off his arm and you don't even remember!

Because bruce was like when I first met you you loved my little pony! And now your telling them that the same little girl six year old who was obsessed with hello kitty and my little pony was fighting thirty year old monsters! And winning!

And readers just standing their like "So.....we gonna fight or nah.... cause not to sound like a big back but I'm lowkey hungry."

___________________________________________

Taglist: @dhanyasri , @kore-of-the-underworld , @i-adorehannah , @plsfckmedxddy , @phoenixgurl030 @bunbunboysworld @bat1212 @skepvids @sirenetheblogger @Nervousalpacalady @118gremlin @darktrashpoetry @bitternsweet @kksmush @awawage @coffeemin @feral-childs-word @cens0r3d @sweetprincesscomputer @exactlynumberonekryptonite @rosy-myhouse34 @hebaoffside @sheep-from-rad @time-shardz

[starlessea]

Hii! Could you plz write a fic where the reader finds out that Daryl's ticklish and a tickle fight break outs between them?

You obviously don't have to if you don't want to! :))

Boots And All

Drabble: Based on this ask. I strayed a little but hopefully it scratches the itch (no pun intended).​

Masterlist

It had taken some time for Daryl to become comfortable around you.

Sure, the two of you had been a thing for some time—sneaking off here and there, swapping shirts for purpled neck bruises.

But those were fleetings moments; there was no real comfort in them. They consisted of rushed encounters, usually when the tension had become so unbearable that the pair of you were at each other’s throats. 

Things were different now. Alexandria had given you the space to slow down. And slowness was something Daryl wasn’t accustomed to. He couldn’t get used to the porch-watching, the grass-mowing, and the domesticity of it all. 

Especially now, as he found himself at the entryway of the shared house, struggling to find the words to say to you.

‘I’m home’ didn’t sound right; neither did ‘I’m back.’

You hadn’t been waiting for him after all—or had you?

Daryl stood dumbfounded. He'd never had trouble with this stuff before, but this suburbanite hellscape had him guessing his every move. What if you didn’t want him anymore?

He shook his head. Footsteps echoed across the hall, and not wanting to get caught mid-agonising, Daryl tried to busy himself.

"Dixon," you greeted, before a furrow pinched your brow. "Boots."

Daryl’s eyes followed your pointed finger, landing on the trail of mud he'd dragged over the ornate welcome mat.

"Damnit, woman," he cursed. "Been gone all day an' tha's all I get—boots?"

“Boots,” you confirmed, and disappeared back into the living room.

Daryl grumbled before sinking to his knees to undo his laces. Here he was wracking his brain for the perfect greeting and you’d settled on fucking boots.

It could be worse, he thought. At least that meant you wanted him to stay.

The fire crackled low as Daryl trudged into the living room. You were slumped down on the couch, legs tucked under you with one arm draped lazily over the backrest. Your attention was on a book he knew you'd already finished.

Daryl deliberated for a moment dropping into the space nearby. He kicked his legs up onto the stool before him, watching the way your eyes flickered over before returning to your page.

There was a tension in the air—subtle but persistent. He wondered if this was as strange and new to you as it was him. Perhaps you didn’t like him all that much now there were other options. He scowled, and tried to put the thought away from him.

“So…” you began after a moment, setting the book down onto the table. “How was it? Find anything good?”

Your voice was softer now, and Daryl felt himself relax slightly. “Nah,” he muttered. “Same ol’ shit. Few walkers—not much else.”

You shifted, and as you did, your hand brushed against his foot. A jolt sparked through his body; he kicked his leg out instinctively.

“Jesus, Daryl," you yelped. "What was that for?”

Daryl opened his mouth to retort, but as he did, you readjusted once more, grazing the base of his foot with your fingers.

He immediately recoiled. “I swear to sweet shit, do that again an’ there’ll be hell.”

A look of realization flashed across your face—and god, did Daryl hate it.

“Are you…” you paused, the disbelief in your voice too great to conceal, “ticklish?”

Daryl groaned. He suddenly felt five-years-old again, wishing he could keep a straight face.

His lack of reply spurred you into action. “You can’t be,” you announced, goadingly. Daryl felt his muscles grow taut, preparing for the worst. As much as he wanted to escape, part of him missed this—missed that look in your eyes when they weren’t clouded by worry and expectation. “Everywhere?”

“Don’t ya dare,” he warned, though it lacked any real bite.

You grinned before edging closer, until you were sat straddling his lap. Daryl stiffened. His hands hovered above your hips, not quite confident to let them rest there.

“All the times I’ve touched you here,” you murmured, tracing a line up his chest, “or kissed you here”—your breath brushed against his ear, and he shivered despite himself—“did it tickle you?”

Daryl swatted your hand. “Yer fuckin’ ridiculous,” he growled.

You couldn’t help the laugh that spilled from your lips. It chipped away at Daryl's defences, leaving him even more exposed.

"And how about here?"

You tested a light prod at the ribs, to which he bucked beneath you, trying to unseat you.

“Fucking—cut it out,” he snapped.

And again, that smile of yours tugged at something deep within him.

“Alright, alright,” you conceded, raising your hands in surrender. “I’ve had my fun.”

He was about to bite something back, but the words caught in his throat. Your hair was splayed, catching the light of the fire as it framed your face, and on it, your expression was one of pure warmth. For a moment, all Daryl could do was stare. How many days had it been—weeks even—since he’d seen you like this?

You were so beautiful.

“I missed ya,” he admitted. The words came out of their own accord, barely above a whisper. “I wanted to get back to ya.”

His hands found your hips, and his thumb began tracing circles there.

"If you'll have me an' my muddy boots."

Your expression softened, and as you leaned down, Daryl left himself completely open.

You kissed him; it was unlike any of the others you shared before. It wasn't urgent, nor desperate—like the ones brought about by fear of getting caught.

You took your time with him, since there was enough now to spare.

“I missed you too, Dixon,” you murmured against his lips. “And I'll gladly take you, boots and all.”

A/N Sup... It's been about 2-3 years but I want to confirm that I'm alive. To be honest, I still read every comment I get and I can't believe people still love my work. I started this page when I was a wee 19-20 year old student, and now I'm 24, have bought a house, a dog, and am heading a company (crazy, I know). That said, I wish I could go back to the days I would write and write and write. Unfortunately, I just don't have the time (and I'm a lot slower now due to the mental block I developed from aiming for perfection)... Though, my wish for 2025 is to devote a little time back to my hobby - no matter how small, nor how long it takes me. To anyone still here, firstly holy shit go touch some grass (just kidding), but truly thanks for sticking with me. If you want to reach out, I'd love to rebuild some bridges and hear your suggestions! P.S I know it's been a hot minute so if you want to be added / removed from my tag list, please let me know x

Tag List In Comments

[cesiscribbles]

OK SO

I had an idea snippet for the ending of the Ineffable Family series but it made me sad and I dunno if I will ever draw it so Im just gonna share my idea with you in written form:

(btw It's not fanfic quality, it's more messy bulletpoints written out within 5min or so)

---

Astra is growing up, getting older and lives a happy life amongst human society with her parents on earth. One day she falls in love with a human and they share the kind of deep bond like Azi and Crowley do. At some point Astra even announces that they gonna get married and her parents are super excited and want to make her the bestest wedding gift ever.

They wrack their brains over what this gift could be for a quite a while but nothing seemed right.

A book? To generic and boring. A kitchen aid? Nah, probably an other persons idea already. Money? Missing the deep meaning behind it.

It's one day before the wedding and Astra asks Crowley and Azira to meet at their special spot at a wonderful lonely flower field somewhere in the nowhere. They loved to visit this special place and spend hours being together, having picknicks or gaze at the stars (Yes, in this version Crowley can see stars). C+A arrive at the spot where Astra is already waiting for them and they are quite curious why she wanted to meet up here.

Astra turns around and looks at them with a smile, but it's a mix of a happy and sad one.

She knows what she would like the gift to be and she describes how she feels different from all the angels and demons and that she never experienced an existence before the beginning or witnessed when everything started. She loved growing up between humans and experience change herself. But she knows her true love, her human, will wither away in what feels just like an eye blink in the life of an immortal being.

Astra comes closer to her parents and holds their hands, telling them how much she loves them and apologizes that what she will say next, won't be easy.

The best gift, she could ever ask for is Azira and Crowley combining their powers and making her mortal.

Ofc both seem bewildered at such request and try to talk sense to their daughter but in the end they recognized that they would have done the same for their partner because a life without them would hurt too much.

With a heavy heart A+C respect Astra's wish and grand it to her.

She lives a happy life with her human, both equally growing older and A+C watching over them like guardian angels to make sure no sickness or harm comes into their house... till the day they have to say goodbye.

Astra and her love are not going to Heaven or Hell. They return back to the stars where they can be together and where A+C can see them from earth.

And then the end says

"Ad Astra"

(lat.= to the stars)

[warping-realities]

Where Would You Rather Be? (Redux)

A collaboration with the amazing @johnbrand

“You know I love you, right?” Malcolm reaffirmed to his boyfriend. “And I’m here for you, babe.”

It had been a hell of a week for Shane. He had been living in the city for almost ten years now, moving there for college and then sticking around after graduation. It was a scary transition, but thanks to the quick friends he made, the ride was a bit easier. One of them, Shane’s freshman roommate—who he had lived with and then kept close since they met—got an eviction notice the week before. Shane had been as supportive as he could through the whole mess, but watching his buddy pack up and leave was a real kick in the gut. His friend would now be living hours away, no longer right next door.

Shane nodded his head, followed by a quick “Thanks, babe.”

“I’m happy to be the shoulder you can cry on, I know this sucks” Malcolm sympathized. “Still wanna grab dinner tonight? We can bail on the plans if you need some time.”

“Nah, I’ll be fine,” Shane said with a slight smile. “Plus, it’s our third anniversary—you’ve done more than your fair share, and I’m super grateful for that.”

Malcolm chuckled, quickly snatching Shane from behind. “Then maybe you’ll have to show some gratitude later tonight.”

Rolling his eyes, Shane still returned the passionate kiss from his boyfriend.

That night, he found himself back in his own home. After climbing a few flights of stairs, he was surprised to find his buddy’s old apartment door wide open. Curious, Shane peeked in, and without thinking twice, he stepped into the familiar space, now filled with unknown furniture, boxes, and other random junk scattered around.

Before he could snoop around, a voice from behind barked at him to move aside. “Get outta the way, bro!”

The rich baritone caught Shane so off guard that he jumped a bit, scurrying as a big dude stomped through the doorway before dropping a few boxes. At least six feet tall, the buff, masculine intruder immediately intimidated Shane. Shirtless, barefoot, and rocking some tiny shorts that could easily be mistaken for underwear. Probably due to the effort of hauling all those boxes, the muscular man gave off a strong, manly odor that quickly overwhelmed Shane’s senses. In fact, all of his senses, although he didn’t really realize it. The stranger smiled cockily, sizing Shane up with eyes glinting with mischief before speaking.

“Mind being useful and helping me organize the rest of my stuff?” the man asked. Shane, a bit freaked out by the pure masculinity in front of him, didn’t say a word. The guy didn’t need his response, though, knowing Shane would help him out no matter what. Shane couldn’t explain what came over him; his mouth was just hanging open while cardboard boxes were dumped into his waiting arms.

In minutes, he was soaked in sweat, having to peel off layer after layer of clothing as he helped the stranger organize the apartment. His mind screamed at the absurdity of the situation, yet he kept doing what the man asked him to do like a robot. After an hour of relentless work, the guy, noticing Shane’s drenched clothes, pulled out a change of clothes from one of the boxes still piled in a corner.

“Put these on, thank goodness I wear extra-large, bro, so they should fit your chubby ass!” he said, flexing his muscles and releasing another wave of that masculine musk from his armpits.

Drowsy Shane picked up the clearly unwashed tank top and gym shorts, reeking of that same animal musk but concentrated from days of use. That scent almost made him hurl.

“What are you waiting for, man? Put these on already. We still got work to do.”

Once again, not understanding why, Shane felt compelled to obey, stripping down in front of his new neighbor until he was left only in his underwear. He was already putting on his shorts when the man interrupted him.

“No, man, you gotta let the jewels breathe. Not that they take up much space, from what I can see, but there’s no reason to squeeze the poor things,” he quipped, bursting into laughter, and Shane, even without getting the joke, found himself laughing along. When he was finally dressed in the provided clothes, completely engulfed by the animalistic smell, the man approached him with a grin.

“Back to work, man, a little more exercise and maybe you’ll fill out those clothes just right,” he said with a smirk. Shane just nodded and kept working.

Before he knew it, another two hours had flown by, and the apartment now had a minimally organized look, unlike the previous chaos. The night fully enveloped the dimly lit room.

“Martin,” the mysterious man finally offered his name, alongside a giant meaty hand that crushed Shane’s. “Are you my new neighbor?”

“Uh... yeah,” Shane finally spoke, pointing to the wall their apartments would share.

“Cool, bro,” Martin replied. “Wanna chill on the balcony with me for a bit?”

Shane checked his watch, noting that there was still some time before he had to get ready for his dinner date. “Sure.” Following the muscular alpha outside, Shane took a seat on the wicker couch while waiting for Martin. He did his best to plan out the remaining time he had. Not realizing that the tight outfit now seemed to hang off his body, which in the last few hours had shed a good amount of fat while gaining a little muscle, revealing a face that was somewhere between cute and handsome.

“Sit over there,” Martin directed as he stepped onto the balcony. Shane didn’t think twice about getting up and moving aside so Martin could sit on the couch. It wasn’t until he moved to the other side of the coffee table that Shane realized Martin wanted him to sit on the deck.

“That’s right, faggot. Sit in front of my feet,” Martin said, the friendly smile fading from his face as he propped his giant, smelly feet up on the table.

Shane was shocked, offended by his neighbor’s sudden bigotry. The lame joke about the size of his dick was one thing, but this vocabulary was degrading and... the smell of a full day’s work was coming off those giant boards Martin called feet. And Shane train of thought completely derailed. So he did as he was told, taking his seat in front of the two massive soles placed before him. Somewhat exasperated by the incomprehensible actions he had taken up until that point and anxious not to miss his meeting with his boyfriend, Shane shifted uncomfortably in the awkward spot, to the point that Martin himself noticed.

“You got any plans tonight, fag?” Martin questioned.

In a flustered, embarrassed, and strangely lustful state, Shane answered, “Yeah, I have an anniversary dinner with my boyfriend.”

Martin snickered. “And when is that?”

“I should start getting ready in 10 minutes,” Shane’s response was robotic. “I’ve gotta shower, get dressed, wrap my present, and then travel.”

Martin mulled this over for a bit, relishing the fact that Shane would wait for his next prompt. He was completely overtaken by the scent that wafted from the other man. Martin’s natural musk and body odor held an authority over him like nothing else ever had.

“Let me make you a deal, faggot,” Martin finally said. “You can bounce now, get ready, and have a great night with your loving boyfriend. Or you can stay seated right where you are, at the feet of a straight man, waiting for my next command and finally discover what it’s like to be a real man!”

Shane didn’t reply, shocked by what Martin was insinuating. With casual indifference, Martin wiggled his toes in front of Shane, knowing the silence was already his answer. But in true alpha fashion, Martin made sure to hammer his superiority home.

“Where would you rather be, faggot?” he asked, with his feet releasing another wave of potent funk towards an already completely subdued prey.

They stayed there without saying a word: Martin laid-back, comfortable, and minding his own business, and Shane at his feet. Neither got up as time ticked by. In his head, Shane’s plans slowly morphed. He didn’t need to wrap Malcolm’s present, he didn’t need to shower, he didn’t even need to change. Eventually, the anniversary dinner came and went, and Shane was still at the feet of the straight man.

“Well, now that you’ve made your choice I gotta keep my promise, right, sissy boy? But to be my bro, you gotta become a real man, don’t you, Shotgun?”

“My name is…”

“Shut up, sissy boy. You’ll be able to talk when you’re a man and have a place to sit by my side, not at my feet!”

Imbued by Martin’s potent scent and words of dominance, Shane fell silent.

“I don’t give a damn what you were known for, Shotgun,” Martin retorted, making the smaller man shiver at the sound of that nickname. “I don’t care about your art degree or the lame job you do or the degenerate things you do with your fag boyfriend. And that doesn’t matter to you either, Shotgun, because it’s not real, but what I’m gonna tell you now is that it is real, and your jelly brain is gonna do its best to make it happen.” The man concluded, lifting both arms and releasing the most powerful wave of musk yet, taking Shane... or Shotgun?... what kind of name is that? That didn’t matter, only the wave of nauseating smell that invaded him.

“Take it like a man, Shotgun,” Martin ordered, and he obeyed. “What you’re gonna do is very simple, I want you to think about all the jocks who humiliated you in school, the fraternity brothers who often give each other nicknames just like yours, Shotgun, which you certainly mocked but deep down envied. I want you to think about all the real men you and your faggot friends called toxic behind their backs without having the guts to face them. I want you to picture yourself as one of them, with all the stereotypes of white cis straight men, yada yada yada bullshit that your liberal faggot mind has stored. I want you to take all their traits and slap them on yourself. Habits, behavior, conduct, appearance, desires, thoughts, everything! Yeah, everything you think about guys like me applied to you. When you’re done, Shotgun, then we’ll talk man to man, and only then I’ll wanna know more about my new bro. A bro who scored this awesome apartment for a fellow frat brother moving across the country as soon as he heard someone just like him was moving here, just for the spirit of brotherhood that exists between real men that your old self would never have been able to grasp! Do it now!

The wave of nausea hit its peak; Shane felt the vomit rising in his throat but held it back, swallowing it down again, while another sensation took over his head, a feeling of being invaded and violated, his mind dominated by a relentless buzz, his vision flooded with a myriad of colors, while his whole body itched as if a million ants were crawling over him. The whole situation was overwhelming. And it got worse when his memories and recollections started to twist and reform, everything he was being tangled up in a whirlwind of misinformation. He found himself facing several traumatic situations from his life, but in reverse roles; the bullying he suffered turning into the bullying he practiced, the sports activities observed from afar being felt and lived, the toxic behavior going from being judged to being experienced and appreciated. And with that, new memories surfacing, time in the gym sculpting his body to perfection, nights of sex with various women whose names he didn’t even remember, his work at the art gallery replaced by a finance job earned not through talent but through connections made via his fraternity brothers. At last the image of Malcolm, the great love of his life, being erased. In an internal scream of despair, he tried to cling to that safe harbor, but that ship had already sailed to new waters, taking with it his humility, knowledge, empathy, and kindness. Leaving only inflated self-confidence, privilege, and respect only for those he considers equal or superior.

As the night wore on and Shane’s inner turmoil reached its peak, his exterior was undergoing its own transformation. His muscles were going into overdrive. They just kept contracting and expanding. Over and over. Lost in jumbled thoughts, he couldn’t feel his bones stretching longer. But each one was stretching out to its new length, growing denser to support his new weight. His average build quickly disappeared as muscle packed onto his recent lean frame. Little by little, he felt constricted by Martin’s clothing. The shirt pulled at his chest and shoulders while the shorts barely contained his thick, muscular ass, with his thighs growing like tree trunks, stretching the fabric to its limit. His shoulders broadened, turning into large round orbs jutting from his sides. Two mighty pecs pushed a bit in front of him while a firm set of abs grew more defined right underneath. His biceps bulged out of his arms while his forearms widened to support the new strength building within him. Amid the chaos of conflicting memories, his average-sized dick, the butt of Martin’s jokes, quickly grew to new heights. What had been his maximum hard was now his flaccid member. His calves grew to the size of most men thighs. Meanwhile, his feet grew well beyond the previous size 8, increasing to the point of competing with Martin’s stinky paws, which had to be at least size 13. The changes also hit his face, which took on a more squared-off, rugged look, with his button nose growing and turning into an aquiline nose that could’ve easily been broken in a fight, which only reinforced the raw masculinity taking over from his previous cuteness.

Finally, a smile formed on his chiseled face, oozing confidence and displaying his internal arrogance for all to see.

Seeing that smile appear, Martin knew his work was nearly done. And when that new Shane let out a fart and a burp, he knew it was all over. Feeling that new putrid smell mix with his own musk, he turned to the other man.

“Damn, Shotgun, you’re rank!”

“I didn’t get the name Shotgun Shane for nothing, man; it was for the shots I could take back in college, but I almost got called Stinkbomb for what I let out. Now, if you’re gonna complain about the smell, you better get those damn feet outta my face!” Shane shot back, his arrogant smile widening. This made Martin lift his feet off Shane’s face while cracking up.

“I knew we’d be best bros the moment we met, Shotgun,” he said, admiring the result of his handiwork.

“Me too, bro; way better having you as a neighbor than that faggot who lived here before.”

“If you compare me to some queer again, I’m gonna mess you up.”

“You can try!” Shane replied, flexing one of his powerful arms before continuing. “But you’re right, there’s no comparison, dude. To make it up to you, how about I take you to check out the hottest club in town? Celebrate the move by picking up some chicks?”

“Now you’re speaking my language, bro!”

….

Martin hated waiting on others, even though he himself had no problem showing up late. Apparently, Shane inherited that same trait during his transformation. The other man had gone home, took forever in the shower, and then posted some pretty provocative videos on his social media. The first one showed off his well-developed muscles while he seductively invited all the girls interested in him to meet him and his best bro at a city club.

In the second video, he just slid the camera down, revealing the huge package he had stuck in his underwear. All of this under the suggestive caption, “You really gonna miss this?”

Martin was super stoked with the results of his actions. Moving to a new city was tricky, but having a bro made it a whole lot easier, no matter that bro had been crafted by him. Still, he wondered if he hadn’t put too much of himself into the other man while he waited for him with a frown and his arms crossed. After a reasonable amount of waiting, he saw the gigantic figure strutting toward him down the first-floor corridor and was sure he had indeed put too much of himself into the other man, which could lead to some friction in the future when they had to sort out their power dynamics, but at that moment, that didn’t matter; he just wanted to have a good time, and there wouldn’t be better company than someone who was practically him in another body.

That became even clearer when Shane stopped in front of his irritated face and flexed his muscles playfully.

“What’s with the ugly mug, dude? You wanna throw down?”

“The ugly mug is because you took your sweet time, Shotgun! And you can joke all you want, but you can’t compete with this,” he replied, flexing one of his powerful arms. “Now let’s go after some hot chicks, or what?”

….

Malcolm didn’t quite know why he was in that dump of bigotry and toxicity. He just felt like something was missing and couldn’t quite put his finger on what. His trip to the place was the result of an Instagram video where one of the typical patrons invited all the interested bitches to come on down. Malcolm didn’t consider himself a bitch and usually would’ve laughed if someone said he might be into a dude like that, yet here he was. Knowing he had no chance of getting close to that man radiating toxicity. But only when he saw that self-proclaimed Shotgun Shane chatting up a hot young woman did something stir within him, a memory of a passionate kiss shared just that morning.

“S-Shane…?” he murmured, though he didn’t know exactly who this man was, he felt something deeply wrong was going on. While he stood there, dumbfounded, the man made his move and kissed the woman, which made him decide to leave the place as he was hit by another wave of strangeness and sadness mixed together.

However, he wasn’t the only one watching the scene; on the other side of the club, Martin saw his supposed wingman score before he did.

“Damn, I really put too much of myself in that dude,” he muttered as he weaved through the crowd. That’s when he saw Malcolm hurrying along with a look of confusion.

Well, if his wingman bailed on him, he could just make another one, right? It’s not like there was a shortage of material to work with, as that other faggot’s presence left abundantly clear. He just needed to be a bit more careful not to overdo it again, although he didn’t really have that refined of a control over the final result, and the most likely outcome would be ending up with another bro exactly like him. But he didn’t care that much; to him, there wouldn’t be better company than his own, and if someone asked him where and with whom he rather be, the answer would always be the same, he thought, smiling as he approached his future bro.

[simpingforheros]

Gifted With Love~

Pairing: Jason Todd X Female! Reader

Summary: When a close friend of the Titans turns 21 years old, Dick decides to leave a special present for her.

Warnings: CROPPED TOP JASON wrapped with a bow~💕, Smutty implications, technically kidnapping, bondage, and awkward love confessions.

Author’s Note: Hello, it’s me. I have a pile of toxic Jason fanfics until @jjenthusee blessed me by tagging me in this work of art, so I had to write about it. I didn’t write smut this time because I didn’t know how they would feel about it but let me know if this is good.

++++++++++++++++++++++

Everyone has their own definition of a perfect birthday.

For some it’s traveling off to exciting vacations to tropical getaways, or spoiling themselves with luxurious dinners with loved ones. Others may even throw a larger than life birthday bash.

Those would be what Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson’s definition of a perfect birthday event instead of the horrifying words his beloved friend just spoke to him.

“I don’t really need anything.” The woman says nonchalantly as she finishes filing her field mission report. Her eyes to focused on the monitors to notice Dick frowning.

This weekend was (Y/N)’s birthday, and for the 7th year in a row, the young hero tells him the same thing she always asked for her birthday, Nothing.

“Not even a small get-together with us?” Dick whines as he tries to lean against her desk to get her attention. “It’s not everyday someone turns 21 years old. I’ll even buy you your first legal drink!”

Her chuckles fills the awkwardness in her body as she shakes her head. “Nah, I rather be spend the night alone with Frank.”

Dick practically couldn’t hold his head up after the massive eye roll he gave her at the mention of the stupid cat. He still hadn’t forgiven it for scratching up his favorite costume.

“There has to be something that’ll get you to change your mind…” As his incessant whining gets interrupted by a pinging on her computer.

*Transmission From Red Hood incoming*

A fluttering look of softness passed through her eyes before she accepts the transmission eagerly.

“Titan’s Tower to Red Hood, do you copy?” Her voice professional as she was still clicking on the keyboard.

“Hey, Princess,” Jason purrs out causally causing a small smile to appear on her face. “I got some leads on that case you were looking into. Apparently some of the goons on Black Mask’s gang used to know where some Brother Blood bases are. I’m sending you the details right now along with our wedding planning info.”

(Y/N) rolls her eyes at his joke at the end, but giggles as the familiar warm feeling floods her face. “Okay, Big Guy, I’ll take a look and send you flower arrangements.” She jokes.

Jason’s chuckle causes her smile to widen as they end their call. The reality of her surroundings kick in as her eyes meet Dick’s all knowing smirk, much to her misery.

(Y/N) joined the Teen Titans when she was 14 and fresh out of the hell that created her origin story. She took some time to get comfortable with everyone, but her favorite people have always been Dick and Jason. Her and Dick had a strong sibling bond while her and Jason just had a strong friendship. That may have formed into an unrequited, unlabeled flirtatious situation ship that the pair have been dancing around since Jason returned as the Red Hood.

“I-!” Before Dick could begin with his interrogation, the hero jumps from her seat as she mumbles.

“Well, I better go investigate these leads before the trail gets cold. See ya, Nightwing!” She chirps as she flees from him.

A wicked smirk appears on his face as he realizes what would make this birthday perfect.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

(Y/N) sighs as she finishes walking up her fifth flight of stairs with her arms filled with her birthday takeout.

Her civilian job practically wore her down mentally and physically this week with impending deadlines and mounting additions to her workload. Her Hero life has been surprisingly quiet other than the occasional teasing remark from Dick whenever Jason was brought up in conversation. Thank God Jason wasn’t a Titan.

As she unlocks the door after maneuvering for a moment, she coos out for her beloved elderly cat with a

“Frankie~, mama’s home with our favorite take out.” She says as she places the stuff on the counter. Her eyebrows frown together once she sees that all the lights in her home were on despite her remembering to turning them off.

“Frank?” She calls out to her cat as she realizes he has trotted into the room with a cry. She walks around the counter as she finally looks to the floor to find….a ribbon??

A soft baby pink ribbon was placed on the floor of her apartment. Her eyes followed one direction towards her dining table to see an extravagant display on the table. A heart shaped birthday cake stood proudly with a bunch of little gift bags. The offending ribbon stood out proudly on top of a bottle of whiskey that she suspiciously knows is Jason’s favorite.

“Did Jason do this?” She asked herself as she picks up the bottle. A glittery pink care taped to the front causes immediate doubt to her mind as she opens the card.

HAPPY 21st BIRTHDAY, (Y/N)

FOLLOW THE RIBBON AND FIND YOUR GIFT WRAPPED WITH LOVE FROM ME!

YOUR FAVORITE TITAN

-DICKIE :)

p.s. I took Frank to my apartment so you can enjoy your ‘gift’ <3 ;)

“So that’s where my cat is…” She says with a giggle. As much as she hated that Dick broke in to do all this, she was honestly expecting something worst. At least she can recognize that some of the gifts were from other titans and friends. She quickly sees a familiar brown wrapping paper with a flower pressed into the fold of it.

A bright smile presses into her face as she picks up the gift knowing it was probably a book that Jason picked out for her.

The other gifts can wait a little bit.

Picking up the whiskey and her book, she begins to walk to her bedroom where she notices that the ribbon leads to her destination. Her exhausted sigh fills the air as she begins to wonder what mess Dick left in her sanctuary.

Glitter bomb? Nah she hates that she already had to clean up the glitter he already left. A huge ass bear? Nope, she’s too old for that, but doesn’t put it past him to do that.

As she got closer to the door, a creak can be heard along with a sound of a struggle. Her eye brow quirks as she opens the door not expecting what she finds.

There in the middle of her bedroom was Jason. Tied to a chair with rope and pink ribbons. In his Red Hood costume or what was supposed to be. The glaring difference was the now cropped combat shirt and his cargo pants unzipped with a red ribbon acting as the belt holding his pants together. His holsters were empty and fastened tightly to emphasize the bulging muscles of his thighs. There was three more bows on him that almost made her fragile state break.

One red ribbon wrapped around each bicep, practically struggling against his flexing muscles. And the other was a thick pink ribbon that was loosely tied around his neck and led directly to the ribbon that brought her here.

Her moment of shock finally breaks when Jason whistles at her to get her attention.

“Princess, I need some help here.” He groans as he struggles against his binds. Her body immediately goes into motion as she sets the bottle and gifts to the ground to help him.

“Jay, what happened?” She asks as she helps him out of the chair after undoing the rope. Her eyes almost bulged out of her skull when the fabric of his cargo pants falls a little to tease the tempting V shaped Adonis belt hidden only by the will of the ribbon.

“Dick invited me over to discuss an idea for a birthday party and then Him and Roy ganged up on me and I ended up here.” He explains vaguely as he stretches his sore muscles.

The movement and winding of his muscles under the the altered costume made warmth fill her chest. His combat shirt was now cropped just below his pectoral muscles, showing off his abs. The ribbon on his left arm pops as he stretches his arm back which causes her to come back to earth again.

“I-I’m so sorry.” (Y/N) apologizes as she sits on the bed to sooth her beating heart. “Dick has been bothering me about what I wanted for my birthday and he wouldn’t take no for an answer…”

“So why did he think I would be a good present?” He says as he removes his mask and shows her the smirk on his face.

Shock filled her face as she looks up at him. His broad shoulders filled her vision as he now stands between her legs. The smell of his cologne filled her senses as he reaches over the bed to grab the wrapped present from where it laid. He places it in her hands as his other hand moves to push the hair out of her face.

With a soft peck on her forehead, he whispers,

“Happy Birthday. Time to open your present.”

Her trembling hands moved to open the present as he steps back to give her room, the whiskey bottle now in his hand. As the paper falls to the floor, her eyes soften as she sees what he given her.

A well worn copy of a Jane Austen book. His favorite book. The pages had color coded tabs that she can recall him placing them during their many missions or hangouts.

The table of contents in the front of the book made her heart skip a beat as Jason watches her through the lip of the bottle.

Yellow tabs - moments that remind me of her

Blue tabs - the same feelings I have while looking at her.

Purple tabs - Funny things I think she would like

Green tabs - moments I wanna recreate with her

Pink tabs- How I feel about (Y/N)

Her hands move to open the book to the one singular pink tab she can see through the sea of colored tabs. Her tears filled her vision as she reads the words colored in pink highlighter.

“In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

“Oh Jay…” She mutters as she looks up at him with a softened gaze, the hints of desire flickering in her eyes as she watches him return it.

“I would have given you a gift card, but i figured that would be too much.” Jason jokes as he finishes a shot of burning whiskey. A tug around his neck brings his eyes down the offending ribboned leash to her foot.

The tangled appendage tugs him to her. He follows her to her arms as she coils him into her embrace as she presses a kiss to his lips. The burning of the whiskey subsiding to sweetness of her lips before she pulls away just a breath from his own.

“I think it was perfect.” She whispers. “But…”

Jason gasps as she gently runs her finger tips down his exposed abdomen and down to the red ribbon holding his pants together. He clicked his tongue to his teeth as he asked,

“Aren’t you suppose to blow out your candle before you open presents?” He teases as his hand cups her face while the other grips her hip. Her smirk almost causes him to moan as the feeling of silk rubbing against his skin distracts him from the feeling of the heavy cargo pants felling slacked against his hips.

“I thought it was my birthday, Jason…” she teases back as she pulls him to her by his jacket. “And I wanna unwrap all my presents…”

+++++++++++++++++++

“YOU LITTLE BASTARD!” Dick curses as he tries to get his domino mask away from the tabby. The trained vigilante was no match to Frank as he dives under the heavy oak bed.

Dick tries to reach under the bed to catch the culprit who destroyed another one of his suits as his phone pings. To his annoyance, he calls over his shoulder.

“Kori! Can you help me get this stupid cat? And see who texted me?

“Coming!” The alien princess sings as she smiles at the message on her before it doubles as she see the message on Dick’s phone as well.

To: Dick

From: (Y/N) the Terror >:D

Thx for my birthday gifts. Do you mind keeping Frank until tomorrow? I got some plans today and I would appreciate it. Thank you!!

To: Kori

From: Red

Plan worked! Me and her are going on a late birthday date after last night. Thanks for making Dick think it was his idea.

++++++++++++++++++++

I hope you guys liked it and let me know if I should make a smut version of this one. Thanks again to @jjenthusee for the inspiration and I hope you enjoyed it.

+++++++++++++++++++++

@simpingforheros Fanfic. I DO NOT WISH FOR ANY OF MY WORKS TO BE COPIED, STOLEN, OR REPOSTED ON OTHER ACCOUNTS OR WEBSITES WITHOUT CREDIT OR PERMISSION

[specialagentlokitty]

Rick Grimes x reader - so perfect

Hello👋👋 Rick fluff where he comes home and just sees reader hanging out with the kids. And he just stops and watches them, thinking how lucky he is to have her. Please and thank you. Love your work btw❤❤❤. - @hoodiepandaninja16 💜

Holding Judith in your arms, you looked at Carl as he threw a tennis ball against the side of the house, catching it in his hand to throw it again.

“Carl?”

He looked over, stopping what he was doing.

“If you keep throwing that at all wall, you’re gonna break a hole in it eventually.”

He chuckled a little, looking at the tennis ball.

“Sorry, guess I got lost thinking.”

“Hey, not me you need to be sorry too, that poor house has been getting beat on for at least an hour.”

He laughed again, walking over to you, letting you place a hand on his head, and he rested his head on your shoulder.

“What’s going on?” You asked quietly.

He sighed a little bit, offering you nothing more than just a shrug.

“I don’t know, I guess I’m just thinking about a lot of stuff you know? Sometimes it’s hard not to when it’s all you can do.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nah.”

You nodded, letting him move away from you and over to the front of the house where he sat down, so you did the same.

Placing Judith on the porch next to you, and Carl handed her his tennis ball.

“That’s fine, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. But if you do you know I’ll listen.”

“Thanks (Y/N).”

You smiled at him, and you leant back on your hands, looking at the skies that were threatening to downpour at any moment.

It was still sunny, but the clouds were rolling in quickly, and given the thunder that was in the distance it would be here soon.

“Do you think dad will make it back before the storm hits?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure.”

“You really don’t lie don’t you? Could’ve at least tried to lie for me.” Carl mocked.

You laughed a little, grinning down at him.

“Nope, what’s the point. The truth will come out eventually, whether you want it to or not, by lying your just wasting your own time.”

“Do you think he’ll be alright?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Carl nodded his head, he believed you.

Judith rolled the ball and you caught it before it went down the steps, rolled it gently back over to you and she giggled.

She pushed it back, so you once again pushed it back.

“Can you go through my bag and find my deck of cards?” You asked.

“Yeah, why?” Carl asked back.

“We’re gonna be stuck inside soon, May as well find some way to pass the time.”

You did try to keep them outside for as long as possible, but when it started to rain you decided to bring them inside.

Carl was insistent that he wanted to wait by the gate, but you wouldn’t let him.

So, you all sat on the floor of the living room, music coming from the stereo that you had put on.

Judith sat in your lap, and you tried teaching Carl how to play poker.

“Seriously, how is this in any way helpful?”

“It’s not, it’s just fun as hell.”

He grinned a little at you.

“Dad’s gonna hate you trying to teach me this, you know that right?”

“I could teach you how to throw them.”

“Like throwing stars?”

You nodded and he immediately sat up.

“Hell yes.”

“Hey, language. I’m an adult you’re not, your dad will kick my ass if he finds out.”

“Our secret?” Carl grinned.

You hummed, thinking for a moment as you studied with narrowed eyes.

“I used to cheat at poker in Las Vegas and was was banned from returning.”

“What?”

“You tell your dad that I’ll tell him you swear when he’s not around.”

You held your hand out and Carl grinned, shaking your hand.

“Deal.”

You let go, and you picked up one of the play cards, looking at the apple you had set on the table not long before.

Aiming, you threw the card, it curved a little in the air but lodged itself into the apple.

“Holy shit…”

“Hey! Just because I said I wouldn’t tell doesn’t mean you can keep doing it!”

“Show me again.”

While Judith slept on the couch you taught Carl some of the tricks of the trade you had learnt over time.

Carl was pretty quick with picking some of them up, others not so much, but the card throwing was his new favourite.

You had ran out of apples to throw them at, so you went to throwing them into his hat instead.

“Where did you learn this?”

“I spent a lot of time in Vegas kid, you pick up a lot of things in a place like that.”

“Did you have a gambling problem or something?”

You rolled your eyes.

“No, I was a professional gambler. Well, fraudster I guess, we worked as a team, taking casinos for all they were worth, using all the tricks, same with street hustling.”

“So, just a petty criminal then.”

“Ouch, petty? I’ll have you know I was wanted in over half the states for this shit.”

“And… you’re with my dad, who’s a cop?”

“Yeah that crap doesn’t matter now, what’s he gonna do, arrest me?”

“Yeah you’ve got a point.”

You handed him a couple more cards, looking to Edith as she moved.

Getting up, you held your arms out to her and picked her up, holding her in one arm as you slapped the card Carl threw back at him.

“I’m going to feed her, you want anything?”

“Yeah, I’ll help.”

You guys made dinner, setting a plate aside for Rick, just in case he came back that night.

While Carl spent time with his sister you washed up and made your way back inside to see him dancing around the living room with her.

“You call that dancing?”

You laughed a little, and you swept Judith into your arms.

“First, it’s always gentlemanly to bow.”

You did a small bow, and he did the same thing, and then you held your palm out to him.

“Put your palm on mine.”

He did, and you began teaching him the steps to a simple dance you had learned a long time ago.

Because of the thunder, you didn’t hear the door opening, and Rick stood against doorway, crossing his arms as he watched the tree of you.

Judith was giggling each time you turned around.

“Where did you learn to dance like this?”

“Would you believe me if I told you that I actually did drama when I was your age? Specialised in Shakespeare.”

“So… like a million years ago?”

“Ouch, okay, you know what Carl Grimes, I thought we were friends, but we’re not.”

He laughed, and you heard a laugh from behind you.

Both of you turned over and he walked over to his dad.

You walked over, handing Rick his daughter back and you smiled at him, gesturing to the kitchen.

“Food ready for you, just need to heat it up.”

“Thanks, I’ll get her to bed then I will.”

“I’ll heat it, you do what you have to do.” You smiled.

Rick went upstairs with Carl, and you went into the kitchen to heat up his dinner for him.

While he was up there he grabbed a shower, changing into some fresh clothes while you were setting his plate on the table.

He came back downstairs, and you were cleaning the kitchen, humming a little to yourself.

He sat down, his chin resting on his hand as he just watched you.

This whole time since the prison you had been with him, you had helped him, supported him, never questioning any of the choices he made.

You had complete faith in him, and here you were, looking after his children for him even though you didn’t have too.

After everything he had done, Rick wasn’t sure how he still had somebody like you.

He had no clue what he did to even deserve somebody like you.

Yet here you were, standing right in front of him, as if the whole world was perfect, and in that moment he could have sworn it was.

“Teach me that dance.”

You turned around, looking at him, then the food he hadn’t touched.

“Eat, then asked again.”

He chuckled, quickly eating his dinner, washing up after himself and he walked into the living room where you were sat.

“Now will you teach me the dance?”

You smiled, getting up.

“First, the gentleman thing to do is bow.”

You bowed, snd he copied you.

You held up your hand, and he placed his palm over yours.

Whatever move you made he did the same thing, his eyes locked with yours as you both slowly danced.

This was it, this was perfect, his eyes focused on yours, everything else seeming nothing but background noise.

Rick slowly moved his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, and he smiled softly, warm eyes focused on yours.

He held a nervous breath as he watched you, and you smiled softly back, copying him

[rhys-writes-some-shit]

The Dilemma of a Rubber Duck

Alastor x Reader (Queer-Platonic) ft. Bestie Lucifer

(TW: Mentions of depression, mentions of suicide attempts)

You knew Alastor didn’t like Lucifer. You weren’t 100% sure why, only that the King of Hell really got on Alastor’s nerves. Ever since Lucifer had moved into the hotel in the aftermath of the battle with the angels, Alastor had spent hours ranting and raving to you about him. They were constantly trying to one-up each other. It was comical, really.

Except that you were stuck in the middle of it. 

Unlike Alastor, you and Lucifer had hit it off right away, getting along like two peas in a pod. There was a certain camaraderie that came with being clinically depressed and still having to force a smile, which both you and Lucifer were experts at. Many late nights had been spent exchanging stories and finding humor in things other people might not otherwise find humorous. 

(“I tried to kill myself twice, and then end up getting hit by a car! That’s how I end up in Hell? What did I do all that work for?” That was the first time that story had been met with laughter, and that was when you knew Lucifer was a good guy.)

You were constantly thinking about how Alastor would react to knowing you enjoyed hanging out with Lucifer, or vice versa. It worried you to no end, so you tried to keep your friendship with Lucifer under wraps, for Alastor’s sake. He needed someone to back him up, and you wanted to be that person. You wanted Alastor to know he could trust you.

One evening, you and Lucifer were talking in the parlor, drinking tea. Alastor was out for a fancy Overlord meeting, so you were able to relax a bit. 

“I’m so glad we have Niffty around,” you were saying. “Sometimes I just can’t find the energy to do my laundry, but I know that if I leave it on the floor, she’ll take care of it right away.” You thought for a moment. “It’s not like I’m forcing her to do it. Or taking advantage of her. Right?”

“Nah, I thought cleaning was her job,” Lucifer reassured. “My loophole with that is all my outfits are the same. Also magic. Magic is very helpful.”

“Man, I’m jealous!” You gave a lighthearted groan. “I wish I could have magic like that.”

“Who’s saying you can’t?” Lucifer shrugged, sipping at his tea. 

You snorted. “Have you seen me? Do I look like Overlord material to you?”

“I didn’t think Mr. Crimson Asshole was an Overlord, so looks aren’t everything.” Lucifer hesitated. “Oh, shit, I shouldn’t have said it like that. You two are like, dating, right?”

You made a ‘fifty-fifty’ gesture with your hand. “Eh… Not really? It’s like… a mutual relationship. Neither of us are the ‘dating’ type, so we just kind of… vibe. But it’s fine, I get it. You should hear the things he says about you.”

“Oh?” Lucifer leaned forward, curious. You mimed zipping your lips, grinning playfully. “Alrighty then, keep your secrets.”

The feeling of guilt you’d been getting used to returned, but you smiled past it. If there was anything Alastor taught you, it was that you could hide everyone behind a smile. And it worked, for the most part. The only person who’d ever been able to see though it was Alastor himself. Similarly, you were the only person able to see through his ever-present smile.

Setting his cup down, Lucifer waited for a lull in the conversation. “Before I forget, I have something for you.” With a wave of his hand, a little yellow rubber duck appeared in his palm. Its features and markings made it resemble you. 

Eyes wide, you carefully took the duck from his hands like it were an actual duckling.

“This one doesn’t breathe fire or anything, but…” Lucifer paused, like he was struggling for words. “I haven't had a real friend in… a really long time. S-so I wanted to thank you. For that.”

You were at a loss for words. The only other person to get you gifts since you’d died had been Alastor. That feeling of guilt hit you like a train, but it was masked with a bright, grateful smile.

“Lucifer, I… I’m honored. Thank you.” You struggled to tear your eyes away from the duck. “Can I hug you?”

Instead of replying, Lucifer pulled you out of your chair, hugging you close. You matched it, hoping your appreciation for his existence was properly conveyed.

“Ahem.”

You and Lucifer pushed each other apart like a teenage couple caught making out. Alastor was standing in the entrance to the parlor, teeth bared. His grin was sharp, borderline violent, and his eyes were narrowed. 

“Al,” you tried, but no other words followed.

Then Alastor sighed, and the murderous look in his eyes disappeared. You were still holding the duck Lucifer had given you. Looking down, you realized you were shaking, and felt a little faint. 

You stumbled back, right into Alastor’s arms. Head spinning, you allowed him to set you down on the chair. Alastor kept a hand on your arm, watching your every movement with surgical focus. He knew, you realized. He knew how guilty you felt, how much anxiety it was causing you. How long he’d known, you had no idea, but you could feel it in the way he wouldn’t let you go. You didn’t want him to let you go. 

“Are you okay?” Lucifer looked frantic, obviously worried. “Do you need water? Something to eat? Medicine? I’m sure there’s some around here somewhere, if you just give me a minute—”

“I’m fine,” you interrupted, trying to muster a smile. You failed. How Alastor held his grin all day, every day, was a mystery to you. “Well, okay, maybe not fine.”

“They could use water,” Alastor provided, only a slight edge in his voice. Nodding, Lucifer ran off to get a glass of water, leaving you and Alastor alone in the parlor. 

Alastor was silent for a moment. You could tell he was trying to figure out what to say. “I apologize for not noticing your anxiety sooner.” A little joy fluttered in your chest. Alastor enjoyed watching everyone’s suffering—everyone except for you.

“It’s not your fault,” you told him. “I should’ve been more upfront. I just…” You were still a little shaky. Alastor’s hand moved so it rested over your hand. The rubber duck was still in your other hand, and you turned it over with your fingers, fidgeting with it. “I didn’t want you to leave me.”

“Now that is nonsense if I ever heard any!” Alastor laughed. “What a ridiculous sentiment, my dear. It would take more than that to take me from you, I assure you.”

“But I know how much you hate him.” You looked towards the direction Lucifer had gone. “You hate that he’s here. You hate that he’s meddling. And this is just another reason to hate him.”

Alastor was contemplating his words again when Lucifer came back. He gently handed you the glass of water, causing you to have to put your duck down. Alastor was right to ask for it—the water helped. The air was tense as Lucifer and Alastor glared at one another while also keeping an eye on you. 

“When you are happy, I am happy,” Alastor said out of the blue. Both you and Lucifer looked to him for clarification. “If talking with Lucifer makes you happy…” Alastor swallowed, gritting his teeth, glowering deeply at Lucifer, “then, by that logic, it makes me happy.”

“Hey, same here.” Lucifer put his arms up symbolically. “I’m not gonna leave my friend just because I hate their boyfriend– er, whatever you are, that is.”

“Partner,” you and Alastor said in unison.

“Right. That.” 

The air was still tense, but it made you feel better knowing that Alastor and Lucifer wouldn’t be fighting over you, at the very least. 

“Okay,” you said suddenly, having finished your water. “I’m going to bed. Thanks again for the duck, Lucifer.”

You barely heard Alastor growl at Lucifer upon realizing that he’d given you a gift, but it just caused you to smile fondly. Alastor was quick to step in beside you, taking your arm to escort you up to your room. 

“You’re welcome!” Lucifer called back. “But don’t think that just because you and Alastor are partners that I’ll make one for him too!” You had to stifle a laugh. Lucifer was too sweet for his own good, no matter how awkward it made him seem.

You turned so Lucifer could see your grin. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

[confietti]

✦ ── “SIPS OF REGRET”

ᯓ★ SUMMARY: you got drunk with your bff and accidentally revealed some.. intimate feelings about your boyfriend's best friend. word got back to him and he decided to make your dream a reality.

wc: 1.1k click here to join the ice cream shop! not proofread

Oh how you fucking hated drinking. you swore you were never gonna drink again after this. This was your last straw, your 13th reason, your-

you snapped out of your little trance at the sting of your boyfriend’s hand connecting with your ass.

“Listen to me when I fucking talk. you didn't answer my question. are you supposed t’be saying that shit about any other man but me?” fuck.

you and lea were giggling while playing truth or dare. you invited her over for a girls' night to chat and catch up. you decided to record yourselves playing this since you wouldn't be seeing each other for a while after this.

“truth or dare?” “truth.” “girl boo, you’re boring as hell. but anyway. hm... if you had the chance to fuck any guy, who would it be? and you can’t say satoru, that's cheating.” she teased.

you thought about for a brief moment before blushing and giggling. “maybe suguru? i love ‘toru but he’s hot as fuck.. if i was single i’d hit that for real.” you slurred. “oh? shit, i can't lie i’d probably do that too.”

about two weeks after the incident lea's alcoholic ass went drinking with suguru. the two were laughing and talking before he asked a rather interesting question.

“oh shit, you didn't tell me about you guys’ sleepover. how was that?” your so-called “bestie” giggled in her drunken state while pulling out her phone. “it was goood, we played truth or dare, shit, look what she said about you!”

he watched the video and was astonished, to say the least. he silently grasped her chin and tilted her head forward before asking. “can you send that t’me princess?”

and of course, her dumbass said yes.

when he got home he forwarded the video to ony without any context.

sugupoo: [forwarded a video] Seen at 10:23 PM

Satoru watched it before gazing over at you, cuddling up to him as you were sleeping. You appeared very innocent compared to how you acted in the video.

He opted not to tell you what he knew just yet. He wanted to offer you an opportunity to admit it.

The next morning, he kissed your lips before serving you breakfast. You suspected he was happier than normal today, but you chose to brush it off.

“How was your sleep baby?” You whispered a small ‘it was fine’ before taking a bite of the food before you.

After you had finished, Satoru took your plate away. He started to wash your dish before asking you a question that made you choke on your coffee.

“I invited suguru for dinner tonight, that okay with you?” When you choked on your drink before responding to him, he glanced at you, concerned. “T-that’s fine.. just a bit sudden.”

He gave a humming sound, then dried the plate before placing it back in the cupboard. “Is there a problem?” He tried to give you a somewhat worried glance but his eyes darkened instead, scaring you.

“N-no! of course not.. he can come over..” “Great! thanks babe!” then his seemingly dark expression brightened into a smile before he kissed your cheek and returned to your shared bedroom.

sugupoo: she mention it?

satoru: nah. u still gonna come ?

sugupoo: fuck yeah.

You curled your hair with increasing anxiety, knowing suguru could show up any moment now. You decided to wear the same dress satoru bought you for your most recent anniversary.

The doorbell rang, sending shivers down your spine as you glanced through the bedroom door to see your boyfriend welcome his bestfriend.

You immediately finished getting ready, putting the final touches on your makeup before going outside to welcome suguru yourself.

You stepped out nervously, muttering a small ‘hi’ before becoming flustered and taking your seat at the table. Suguru gave a quiet giggle before greeting you back.

You all sat down to eat the dinner you finished preparing not too long ago. Afterwards, Satoru proposed that you guys should chill in the basement.

You loved this idea since it was recently remodeled. As soon as you were down there, Satoru dragged you onto his lap. Fingers grazing your thighs before speaking.

“Y’know baby, suguru here sent me a little video we wanna talk t’you about… I was just wondering what on him you wanna ‘hit’?”

—

Suguru gave you a little pout, “Why’re you running from me, baby? you were so brave in the video.” A grin spread across his face as he split you open, making your eyes roll back in your head.

“Nngh— sugu-” you immediately got cut off by a harsh slap against your ass. “Not Suguru tonight baby.” “S-sir! f-feels s’good sir!”

“Good.” he hummed with approval. Satoru took you by surprise as he groaned into your mouth, grabbing your hair in the process.

You stared up at him with wet lashes, while he just smiles and takes his cock out, tip leaking with precum as he smears some on your lips.

“C’mon pretty... open” You did as told, opening your mouth to allow him to thrust into it. A small gag left your throat as he forced himself in. The sight was mesmerizing, You, on all fours getting your throat fucked as his best friend pounded into you from behind.

Still maintaining eye contact with you as he grabbed your hair and began fucking your face. Letting out horrible moans and groans while watching drool fall onto your tits. Eyes blurry with tears as you struggled to breathe.

You whimpered when he suddenly pulled you off of his cock and forced you to look at him. “Last time I checked you aren’t supposed to be enjoying this honey and I think it’s been long enough...”

Satoru silently spread you over his lap before slowly caressing your ass. “Now darling, let’s reflect on our actions for a bit. Are you supposed t’be saying that shit about any other man but me?”

He waited a little while for your response, but all you were able to give him was a string of incoherent babbles. You snapped out of your little trance at the sting of your boyfriend’s hand connecting with your ass.

“You’re supposed to listen to me when I fucking talk. you didn't answer my question. Are you supposed t’be saying that shit about any other man but me?”

The sting caused you to ache in pain, tears streamed down your face as you managed to formulate words and answer him.

N-no! m’s-sorry! I can’t take anymore 'toru please!” He smirked down at you before focusing his attention on Suguru, who’s been watching this entire scene play out.

“What do you think Sugu? Think we should give her a break? Think she learned her lesson?” Suguru gave a sinister look before answering.

“I think we should teach her again to make sure she fully understands.”

a/n: this took so LONG omg im so sorry??? im a huge procrastinator and school ate me alive im so sorryyyy. but regardless i hope you guys enjoyed!!!

© confietti, 2024. do not copy, steal, or repost my content without permission.

the ice cream shop: @lickmyglockk @peachyminx

[multi-fandom-imagine]

I just had a small idea of Fords kids getting bullied and Stan’s girls beat up said bullies and so a parent teacher conference is called and Stan is just so proud

A/n: As he should 👏👏

Getting a call about your children was one of your worst nightmares though the moment you stepped foot into the school to see Stanford and his spouse arguing with some teacher, you barley had a chance to say something before the principle was ushering you into and Stan into the room where your twins were sitting, fat tears rolling down their little cheeks.

"Why the hell are my little girls cryin?"

Stan did not hide back his distain from the principle that sat across from him as you quickly wiped the tears from their cheeks.

"Mr.Pines please calm down."

"Calm down? You call us down here sayin how my girls are in trouble. I come into see my brother arguing with some teacher and now I see my babies cryin."

"Your daughters broke the tooth of a male student."

Tensing, you stood up narrowing your eyes as you held your daughters protectively to your chest. "I know what boy you're talking about....he's the same one that were harassing my nieces and nephews."

Gritting his teeth, Stan dug his nails into his palm only to take one of his daughters into his arm as she rushed to him.

"It's true daddy! He and is friends corned them! They said all horrible stuff! We told the teacher and the principal. They didn't do nothin so we gotta protect em daddy! They're little! They can't protect themselves! So we did."

Rubbing his daughters back, you held your other daughter close. "You knew....you people knew they were being bullied....how many times do we have to come down here before something happens."

"We."

Shaking your head you shrugged your purse over your shoulders. "I'm pulling my daughters out and I will be making sure the school board knows about this!"

Not giving them a chance to react, you and Stan stormed out of the room. Ford, his children and spouse long gone. "I hope Stanford won't blame himself."

"He probably will...but uh let's get you two home alright." Stan cleared out his throat buckling the twins in their car seats.

"You're not mad daddy?!"

"Mad?! Ha nah! I'm proud of you two...you stuck up for your family when no one else would...so what happened?"

Stan gave his girls a grin as they returned his smile on their faces. "I punched him! Like you taught me!"

"And I bit him daddy!"

"Ha that's my girls."

Rolling your eyes, a small smile formed on your face as you glanced back at the twins, your lips parted unsure how to explain it to him. "Just tell me and daddy next time okay."

"Okay mommy."

"Now how about we get some ice cream"

"Yay!!"

Placing his hand on your knee, he gave it a soft squeeze as his voice dipped. "Ya know...that was really sexy of you. That whole protective ma'ma bear thing."

Rolling your eyes, you couldn't hide the smile on your face as you playfully gave his cheek a pat. "Eye's on the road Pines."

"Whatever ya say Princess."

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

New year, new me?

Nah.

New year NEW CHARACTERRRRRR BITCHESSSSS

So anyway.

Those ABC Headcanons I did for Mihawk, Shanks, Sanji, and Zoro a few months ago when I first started this Tumblr. I'm doing one for Crocodaddy now. Needed to iron them out to write him later in a fanfiction I already have in-progress, and this helps.

This also means I'll be accepting requests for him tentatively (I know I'm way behind on ask requests as is, bear with me pls).

Also excuse me while I squeal about being able to create semi-transparent banners and shit now

A through Z

NSFW Headcanons

A — Afterglow (How are they have sex?)

He'll be sitting up against the pillows and headboard of your shared bed, striking up a cigar while you're still lying alongside him gasping for air.

Glancing down at you in your utterly spent and trembling state, smirking with the cigar between his teeth and pulling you up by your shoulder to recline back against his chest.

Not at all above taunting you about how utterly ruined you are.

"Oh, what's wrong? Was it too much?"

Chuckling when you tell him to go fuck himself as he leans over to pour himself and you a small glass of bourbon.

Leaning down to brush his lips and nibble at your neck, murmur in your ear while you take a sip from your glass, praising you with that same edge of almost cruel amusement.

"Such a good little fuck toy."

This is the most relaxed you're usually going to see him, and the most inclined toward cuddling up with you he's going to be.

B — Backrubs? (Do they like them? Like giving them?)

First time you come into his office and circle around behind his chair, he's going to be suspicious, probably even standoffish about it—until your hands are rubbing his neck and his shoulders.

"The hell do you think you're—......oh. Oh, that's...mmmm..."

You won't hear one single further complaint out of him after that.

He's not going to ask you to do it again—he's more likely to demand that you do, to send for you after a particularly long day so he can just lean back and let you work your magic on his stiff muscles.

If he returns the favor at any point, you can rest assured that it's not without an ulterior motive—he won't settle for having his hand on you without getting more out of it.

C — Cuddling (Do they enjoy cuddling a lot or only at certain moments?)

He's more likely to pull you against him or onto his lap in public than he is in private—he likes showing off his trophies, after all, and you're among his most prized possessions.

Gets off on making sure that everyone around knows that you're his, tugging you onto his knee with an arm curled possessively around your waist.

In private, he's still not going to shove you away if you lay back and drape yourself across his lap.

He might not say so, but he honestly loves it. He'll probably absently stroke your hair or brush his thumb across your cheek—but he's not as likely to initiate.

D — Dance (Are they good at it? Do they enjoy it?)

He's got his share of experience—being a filthy rich business magnate doesn't come without its share of formal to-dos, after all.

He's going to spend the majority of said fraternizations discussing business and making connections—but he can't and won't ever resist any opportunity that arises to show you off, either.

Whether you ask or not, at some point he's going to wrap his arm around you and curl his hook around your waist—pull you in close by your chin to speak against your lips.

"Let's show these low-lives what they're missing."

Lowering his hand down and squeezing your ass to tug you against him.

It's definitely more of a command than a question, and he's already smirking because he knows you aren't going to protest—at least not if you know what's good for you.

E — Extravagant Gestures (Things they do to make you feel loved)

"Love" is a strong word, and one that it's going to take a hell of a long time for him to actually admit out loud or really show.

He'll mostly show his appreciation in a material manner—buying you flowers, jewelry, clothes.

Anything you desire or he thinks you deserve, he's going to give you without any hesitation. He doesn't always have much time to spend, but he has more than enough money to spend, and he's going to.

It might seem like empty gestures on the surface, but showering you with gifts is his main mode of affection.

When he does have time to spend, however, he makes sure that his sole focus is on you and you alone, either flat out ignoring anyone that dares interrupt or putting them in their place on the spot.

He intends to ensure that his lover should never have to need or want for anything.

F — Fighting (How do they handle arguments/apologies?)

He's not apologizing. Doesn't matter if he's at fault or in the wrong, he's not going to acknowledge it.

He'll typically keep a cool head about it, even if you're shouting—but if you take a stab at his pride, things are probably going to escalate until you're not on speaking terms for a bit.

Closest thing to an apology you're going to get is him conveniently forgetting about the whole thing and you suddenly being showered with even more lavish gifts than normal, likely even accompanied by little handwritten sappy notes.

He'll also probably let it go entirely if you come back and apologize, but he's going to remain bitter about it for a while.

At least until he gets you alone later to bend you over and grudge-fuck your brains out until he's satisfied you've learned your lesson.

G — Getting Hot (What do they do turn turn you on, and vice versa?)

He stays busy enough that it tends to stray from his mind that physical intimacy an important part of a healthy romantic relationship.

On the rare occasion he isn’t busy, however, he's likely to have his hands and lips all over you—even if you're busy at the time yourself, intent on distracting you from your own priorities and enjoying you at his own whim.

Pulling you back against him by your waist while you're in the middle of some important business or personal call, pushing his hand down between your thighs, his voice a low murmur in your ear, conveying in great detail what he plans to do to you.

"Hang up the phone...unless you want them to hear me ruining you."

Pushing his hook under your chin to tilt your head back, giving his lips free roam of your neck and your jaw, trailing them slowly across every inch of your exposed skin.

The quickest way to get him riled up is to subtly do the same to him in a situation where he can't do anything about it.

To cup your hands around his ear while he's in the middle of some important business or social exchange and whisper all your dirtiest fantasies, forcing him to keep up a calm and professional demeanor in spite of his carnal desire for you.

He's going to act like it's annoying him, but you know better.

You know that he's going to be tearing your clothes off the second he manages to get you alone.

H — Heartache (How would they handle it if you broke up with them?)

He's used to courting his losses, so in the surface it's going to seem like he's unbothered, and anyone that suggests otherwise is going to get their head bitten off over it.

He's going to be more cruel, more impatient with his subordinates.

He's going to be a lot more likely to fly off the handle at anything that could be taken as a slight or insult.

He's going to be unfocused in his business dealings, delegating more work than usual to those below him.

He's going to engage in a great deal of debauchery and self-destructive behavior to push you from his mind—rebound sex, heavy gambling, heavy drinking, chain smoking.

He's going to spend sleepless nights glaring uo at the ceiling and white-knuckling a bottle of liquor, beating himself up over it in silence and solitude.

He's probably going to end up drunkenly den den mushi dialing you after a few weeks, slurring about how big a mistake you made and how much better off he is...and slurring about how big a mistake he made while begging you to come back.

Emotional availability isn’t one of his strong suits.

I — Intimacy (When are they intimate with you? And how often?)

Whenever he feels like it.

He could go a week without paying you much attention at all; then revert to shoving you against a wall or pulling you onto his lap and having you every time he catches sight of you.

Depends largely on his mood, which depends largely on other aspects of his life.

Unless he's incredibly busy or frustrated from stress, he isn’t likely to turn you away if you initiate.

Whether you're circling behind him to rub his shoulders or sitting yourself on his lap, he's likely to pull you closer and breathe you in, brush his lips to your neck and jaw, enjoying some much needed peace and solace in your closeness.

But he's still going to tease and belittle you about it, making sure you feel his lips curve into a smirk against your skin.

"What's the matter? Does my little girl need some attention?"

J — Joker (How do they make you laugh)

His sense of humor is typically cruel and comes at the expense of others.

Certified master at roasting—typically with deadpan delivery, maybe with a hint of a condescending smirk as he verbally destroys whoever has dared to cross him.

There might be a playful insult battle between you and him here and there—he's not going to do it to be outright hurtful, but if you call him an arrogant prick (a slur he frankly agrees with and gladly owns), he's going to put you in your place and chuckle at whatever you manage to throw back at him.

K — Kissing (How good? How often?)

Like other brands of physical affection, he's not going to initiate it very often.

Which is a bit of a shame, because he's incredibly good at it—if more than a bit of a tease.

Slow and sensual, curling his hand around the back of your head, his teeth grazing against your bottom lip, tongue brushing against yours.

Smirking and drawing away when you moan to tease you in a low murmur.

"Oh...? Did you want more, sweetheart?"

Grasping your waist and pulling you against him aggressively to deepen the kiss, devouring your lips possessively with a low growl.

No qualms at all about doing so in public—he greatly enjoys the thrill of all those judgmental and envious eyes, of showing others what they're missing out on.

L — Lay down (How do they sleep with you? Are they a cuddler or do they prefer their space?)

His pride won't allow him to say so aloud, but he cannot sleep without you.

There's always the slightest subconscious worry, eating away at the back of his mind, that he doesn't do enough for you, that he isn’t there enough for you, a worry that really only surfaces in the minutes and hours before sleep when he has no choice but to be alone with his own thoughts.

He'll lay awake until you're there with him so he can pull you against his side, lower his head over yours and breathe in your scent, relaxing into the comfort of your warmth.

This is when he's most vulnerable, most affectionate, when he's anything even close to self-conscious.

When he might brush his lips to your temple and praise you in a low murmur without any expectation of you reciprocating.

"Mmm...so warm....."

He'll slip his arm under you, pull you against him, and refuse to release you until morning.

M — Making babies (Do they want to settle down and have kids?)

HAHAHAHAHAHA no

No, absolutely not.

This really isn’t negotiable. He has no interest in having children at all. Doesn't remotely have the patience necessary and doesn't wish to change his lifestyle to fit around parenthood.

N — Nervous? (How confident are they when it comes to romance?)

Confident really isn’t the word—the man's arrogance is unrivaled.

He's filthy rich, he has unrivaled social standing, the physique of a living god, he knows he could have damned near any woman he wants. Why the hell would he be worried?

His only concern is the matter of trust—that letting anyone get too close could be detrimental to his status. You could blackmail him, you could entice him too deeply and take him for all he's worth, so he might keep you ag arm's length for a while.

Despite his confidence, he also won't tolerate any other men hitting on you—you're his, and he doesn't share his things.

O — Oral Fixation (Giving or receiving? And how good are they?)

Far more into receiving.

Very into pulling out abruptly after fucking you relentlessly and forcing his cock down your throat while you're still gasping for air, reveling in the sight of your make-up smeared over your flushed face and the sound of you gagging on it.

"Yeah, that's it, baby—take every fucking inch—"

But he does love making you beg, and giving isn’t off the table if you satisfy him adequately and ask very nicely.

Just as much as he loves ruining you—so he's going to hold you down by your hip, isn’t going to stop until you're screaming, gasping, hyperventilating from overstimulation, limp and trembling and barely conscious in his grasp.

P — Pet Peeves (Things they don't like in a partner)

Excessive neediness is going to irritate the hell out of him.

He doesn't have the time or the patience to constantly offer his attention and reassurance, so he strongly prefers a confident and independent lover.

Absolutely can't stand you flirting with other men to make him jealous.

It might get his attention, but not in a good way.

He's already iffy about trust, and all that will do is put him on high alert and make him more likely to push you away.

Q — Quiet Time (How much alone time do they need, or do they want to be with you 24/7?)

He stays busy—whether it's running several profitable businesses around Alabasta or dealing with Cross Guild, he doesn't have much spare time, and he's pretty used to it.

That means he's also accustomed to a lot of alone time, and that it's required for his work.

He doesn't mind you being there while he's dealing with it, but only if you're quiet—if you insist on distracting him, he's not going to be pleased.

He's fine with you laying back across his lap, even against his chest with his arm stretched over your shoulders, just as long as you're not intentionally disturbing his concentration.

Though if you are intentionally disturbing him, he will bend you over and wear you out until you're too spent to bother him any further.

R — Romance (How romantic are they? Do they have to force it ir does it come natural?)

Not much of a romantic at all. He's pretty accustomed to just being able to win over women with money and status.

Dinner reservations at expensive restaurants where the waiting lists go on for months, ritzy parties and clubs, anything that allows him to throw his weight and wallet around and show you off.

He will make a point of keeping his attention in you—his arm curled around your waist, keeping you close at his side—but traditional romance is definitely not his strong suit.

S — Spending Money (How much do they like to spend on you?)

Physical touch is his love language, but it's best that yours is receiving gifts, because you're going to be getting a LOT of them.

Designer clothes, jewelry expensive enough that it could be used as collateral in purchasing a small nation, the finest perfumes, date nights that could cost a few hundred thousand berries—whatever your poison, he's providing it.

You're never going to want or need for anything. Even if something just briefly catches your eye in a shop window or a vendor stall, you're likely going to find it in your possession before the end of the day.

In a way it's an apology for not being able to spend as much time with you as he feels you deserve—he'll never say so out loud, that would injure his pride, but the implications of it are heavy.

Only the best of the best for his lady.

T — Trust (Are they trusting of you? Jealous?)

There are some definite trust issues with Croc. It's not uncommon for women to cozy up to him just for monetary and material gain, and he's well aware of it. It's going to take a lot of time for him to fully believe that this isn’t your endgame.

Even once he does trust you, may the heavens have mercy on any man whose eyes linger on you for too long, because he'll need divine intervention to save him if Crocodile catches him.

At that point it's less a matter of his trust wavering—it's more a matter of the fact that he does trust you, and doesn't want to lose that, to lose you now that you do have his trust.

U — Underwear (What kind do they wear, and what kind do they like on you?)

Tends toward tight boxers and briefs (always designer) to show off his physique.

That's his default, at least; you could pretty easily talk him into wearing something more skimpy if you want.

He's going to have a full closet of expensive lingerie for you. If it's something he wants to see you in, he's buying it.

The finest silk, the smoothest satin, the most delicate lace. If it's fit for a queen, then it's yours.

V — Vulnerable (How vulnerable are they with you? Is it easy for them to open up to you?

There's a solid steel wall separating you from his emotions and his past that is damned near impossible to break down.

He has to be able to trust you before he can be open, and again, that's going to take time. A lot of time.

He doesn't allow himself to take that kind of risk—one single mistake, being the slightest bit too open with the wrong person, and every ounce of power he's built up could come crashing down on the wings of blackmail and betrayal.

That being said, once you do manage to gain his trust, you'll be the only person he's open with.

And he'll be completely open, because it's a bit addictive, as it's not something he's accustomed to—being able to be comfortably vulnerable is a nice, relaxing change of pace.

W — Wine and Dine (Do they prefer meals at home or going out with you? Who does more of the cooking?)

Domestic endeavors definitely aren't his forte. He's had a personal chef on his staff since well before he met you.

He isn't going to prevent you from cooking if you enjoy it—though he might find it a little strange, since it's a task he considers below him.

He might even watch you out of sheer curiosity, though it's doubtful he will partake; he'll be more likely to sit back and puff on a cigar, taking the opportunity to enjoy the view and let his eyes roam over you while you work.

Overall, he would usually prefer to just go out, or let the staff handle it...but he does find something particularly enticing about seeing you working with your hands, regardless the reason.

X — X-Rated (How good are they in bed? What do they like?)

You're going to need a safe word, because he's aggressive. He desires total and absolute control, and won't settle for anything less.

You're his free use slut—if and when he wants you, you had best be ready for him.

He'll curl his hook around your neck and his hand around your waist to pull you back against him, let out a slow breath against your neck as his slips your clothes down your shoulders to lay in a pool at your feet.

Or simply rip them away from you, pressing against you to ensure you feel the hard heat of his arousal straining against his clothes, throbbing against your ass and your lower back.

Tilting his head down to ensure you both feel and hear his low, commanding growl in your ear.

"You're mine. Aren't you, my little whore?"

Whether he leads you by the edge of his hook to the privacy of your bedroom he simply bends you over his desk is entirely at his whim.

Either way, he's going to do little more than pull your panties to the side before he thrusts straight into you and fucks you relentlessly.

He's selfish, his main concern is mostly his own gratification—but he still has some concern for yours.

He does love the sound of your breathless moans, after all. Your cries of abandon are music to his ears, and there's nothing more intoxicating than the feeling of your pussy tightening up and pulsing around his cock as you fall limp beneath him in the wake of release.

Pulling you right back up by your hair before you've recovered, hearing your breath catch in your throat.

He lives for it, growling in your ear as he tightens his grip around your tender flesh, pinching and rolling one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, his lips curled into a cruel smirk.

"I didn't say I was done with you, slut."

He has no intention of stopping until he is done, until he's fully satisfied—whether that means making you cum until you pass out or cramming his cock down your throat until you're choking on his cum, it doesn't matter.

Either way, he always gets what he wants.

Y — Yearning (How long will they pursue the person they're interested in before losing interest?)

Not long, in most cases. He can just throw money and gifts at most women and get the gratification that he's after out of it.

He's going to be more interested, and honestly more likely to pursue, if you can't be bought.

If you're interested in more than what he can provide for you on a material or physical level, he's going to be intrigued. That's not something he's used to.

In that case, he very much enjoys a good game of cat and mouse. He'll want to find out exactly what makes you tick, and he's going to persist until he does find out.

He'll likely be courting and fraternizing with other women at the same time initially, but he'll push them away in a heartbeat if you engage in the game and show interest.

He'll probably still throw money and gifts at you, as that's what he's accustomed to doing—but he'll make a point of learning about you, and make the gifts more personal, more in line with your interests and passions, to ensure you know he's paying attention.

He still won't wait for too long. The whole hard-to-get shtick is fun for a time, but he will move on if it begins to seem to him like he's being strung along. If he isn’t the one in control and he feels like he's being played a fool, he'll cut his losses without a second thought.

Z — Zen (What do they do to wind down and relax? Do they prefer to do it alone or with you?

He doesn't have much time for rest and relaxation, so he values it immensely—and he absolutely requires your presence for it.

Even if he doesn't show it most of the time, you're his solace, his peace, the one thing that warms the cold and calculating persona he has to keep up almost twenty-four seven.

If he's reclining back with a glass of bourbon and a cigar, he wants you there. He needs you there.

Reclining back against his chest, his thumb brushing circles against your waist, trailing delicate patterns over your hand as he lies his head back to slowly exhale a plume of smoke.

Lowering his head back down to admire the sight of you, to brush your hair behind your shoulder and murmur in your ear.

"Get comfortable. You're not going anywhere until I say so."

[tgcg]

part 3 of something specific

CG: SO YEAH, THERE’S NOTHING BLACK ABOUT HOW THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS SET UP BEYOND PURE SUPERFICIALITY. THEIR RIVALRY IS TEXTUALLY POSITIVE BOTH TO THEM AND FOR THEM, BECAUSE IT LEADS TO THE DISCOVERY OF THEIR STRONGEST BONDS, WHICH ARE TO EACH OTHER. AS SOON AS SASUKE DISCOVERS HIS BROTHER’S RETURN, HIS IMMEDIATE CONCERN IS TO GO OUT OF HIS WAY AND FIND NARUTO TO ENSURE HIS SAFETY.

TG: (man how is karkats hair always the exact same amount of messy)

CG: SASUKE FINDS NARUTO ANNOYING, BUT SO DOES LITERALLY EVERYONE ELSE IN HIS VICINITY! SO IT’S NOT LIKE THEY HAVE A UNIQUE BOND REGARDING ANY CONTEMPT FOR ONE ANOTHER.

TG: (its like hes got that shit down to a science)

CG: THEY DON’T HATE EACH OTHER DEEP DOWN! AND THAT’S THE CRUCIAL PART, THE ABSENTEE SUPPORT BEAM THAT PROMPTS THE FOUNDATIONS OF BLACKROM TO CRUMBLE IN ON THEMSELF. NO DAVE, THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS DEFINED BY EMPATHY AND COMPASSION.

TG: (professor sepulchritude were noticing a 0.6% decrease in the angle of elevation in the frontmost swoop)

CG: NARUTO KNOWS ALMOST FROM THE BEGINNING THAT ANY HATRED SASUKE HOLDS FOR THE WORLD ISN’T DIRECTED AT HIM WHATSOEVER. HE DIRECTLY ACKNOWLEDGES THIS WITHIN THE TEXT!

TG: (unacceptable doctor dicktopus, apply several degrees worth of emotional turmoil and see to it that the issue is ass blasted to oblivion)

TG: (fuck yes sir)

CG: SASUKE SAYS HIMSELF THAT HE FINDS SAKURA REALLY ANNOYING, AND SAKURA IS IN TURN MOST ANNOYED BY NARUTO.

CG: AGAIN, SQUANDERED POTENTIAL. FUCK THAT.

TG: (is it natural or premeditated is some kind of product involved)

TG: (did alternia have fucked up guerilla combs designed to mangle your hair just right)

CG: … DAVE?

TG: (actually hell nah i couldnt see him doing that in a billion shitty troll sweeps)

CG: METEOR TO FUCKING DAVE?

TG: (no doubt he just rocks up like that)

TG: (man looks the same every day)

CG: DAVE!

TG: (shit abort)

CG: GOD DAMNIT. YOU AREN’T LISTENING ARE YOU? YOU’RE DOING THAT THING AGAIN WHERE YOUR LIPS START MOVING WHILE I'M IN THE MIDDLE OF TELLING YOU SOMETHING! JEGUS, AT LEAST HAVE THE BASIC TROLLIAN DECENCY TO INTERRUPT ME WITH CONVICTION IF YOU'RE GOING TO HUMOUR AN EXCHANGE IN CULTURE, YOU ABSOLUTE TOOL.

CG: DID YOU EVEN GET A WORD OF WHAT I SAID?

CG: WELL YOU’RE THE ONE WHO ASKED, CHUCKLEFUCK! SO--

TG: yeah theyre just quivering in tearful delight at self recognition through the other dude

TG: if not for these sick shades youd be moved to shit by the glistening eyejuice gathering in these peepholes

TG: fit to burst but i remain static in the face of euphoria

TG: im protecting your ass such as a knight is pretty much wont to do

CG: PFF, WHATEVER, “DUDE”.