#Ozzy's Little Sketches

[masterwizardperson]

Errmmm, I'm so scared to post this lol 😭😭😭 @kirbyoctournament I hope they get in 🙏🙏 /nf (FORGOT THIS-)

Anyways, This is Writer Waddle Dee (Wridee, as I like to call them)!! They prefer They/Them, but go by any pronouns! I modeled them a lot after me because they were originally a joke self insert oc I made months ago, so it'll be really hard for me to describe them lol

Backstory?:

●They're a self-publishing, kinda small author that writes about Kirby's journeys!

●Just a simple civilian, y'know, nothing dramatic!

Personality:

●They're a bit sarcastic and loves to make self depricating jokes?

●They're reserved, but have a few close friends and those she'd call acquaintances.

●She's acts very competitive, but it's really all-bark-no-bite.

●He follows a lot of the rules and tries to inforce them best they can.

Misc. Notes:

●Loves sweets, but especially likes donuts

●Finds it difficult to drink strong, caffeinated drinks

●Loves rain and mostly likes to write when it's storming outside because they find it inspirational

●They really don't like to write at a desk, even if it's available. They actually like to write on their bed

●^^ Their bed has a lot of stuffed animals that they're very proud to own

[artistdove]

Can't have too much Mickey and Oswald now can we, lol. I drew these a while ago, so designs for these alternate universe may/will change

Y'all are welcome to ask about them cuz these will collect dust

[redbloodstar]

Had this silly idea, so I just had to see how it looked🫣

[tmt-sketch-a-day]

Sketch a Day 2956- Little Ozzie - 4/10/24

Quick character reference I made for a one off character for a FizzXOzzie comic I did.

[saritawolff]

Wanted to draw something cozy and try out some new things. I… don’t think it came out as intended but uh. It’s something I guess.

[gacha-every]

MEGA MEGA ART DUMP (part 1)

Today's art dump is from an old notebook that we thought wAs gOnE fOrEvEr ...we found it in our car

It is shared with my sister and cousins, so its drawings are very random, of course

Like this faint sketch of Spinel with a gun :D

I remember the notebook around 2021, so it'll of course have some drawings like—

Camilo & Dolores from Disney Encanto! (Dolores suffered erase-pressure, I couldn't get her face right ;v;)

And Barney Pudowski from Ron's Gone Wrong! An animated movie that is CRIMINALLY UNDERRATED SERIOUSLY PLS GO WATCH IT

Anyway, here's some more fanart

We got Mono and Six from My Little Nightmares! (They'll appear again in Part 2)

And my first attempt drawing one of the most difficulty drawn characters from Helluva Boss (they'll also appear again)

NOW SOME ORIGINAL WORKS!!!

This is just a random character I made, nothing too deep, I drew her according to the prompt from my sister seen on the top left corner, and the result is this sl#tty masquerade woman

THIS WOMAN THO–

HOO! LADY!!!– another random charcater I made following my sister's prompt, Lady Aura, and she's just MUWAH that I just NEED to redraw her! My redraw is the right panel

Anyway, this was fun, so nostalgic, but we reached the photo limit

[leechandoki]

I did a doodle sketch of Osmosis Jones (below) and decided I could do better than that >:) I found more brushes to goof with!! :D Also his hair was hard to draw... I struggled for so long trying to get his floof right :')

Kofi | Post+

[semisentient-entity]

The Sea is less angry with her Wife. Her songs make the rage and desire for vengeance lessen.

This was just a few quick sketches I made. Not too sure about the siren's design, but this will do for now.

(Click for better quality)

@abluehappyface @possibly-eli @space-frog-boy @the-cinnamon-snail

[mamaflaire]

Me and who

Making progress!!

[ozzgin]

Ozzy, your recent sketch of the human trussed up is both amusing and a little horrifying (the faux human dinner [vore isn't a thing I'm a huge fan of]).

But the breeding and the bathing! The human is going to have so many requests and you know I think the hotel employees should get a test run first. Quality assurance you know? Maybe the human should ask for hazard pay on top of the normal fee, maybe some of the monster cum is like an aphrodisiac...you never know.

It never crossed my mind that it could be interpreted as vore 😭 The faux dinner is literally just Reader brought on a silver tray, all prepped up for the stuffing. Kind of like an upgrade to the regular coitus.

Actually, you know what? I might just make an actual, official menu. This may or may not be the most downright shameless thing I've created. A literal fuck menu.

[Monster Hotel Origins]

[birdy-babe]

Here is a collection of official helluva boss art I think everyone should see

Loo Loo Land

(by Birdget N)

Harvest Moon Festival

(Stolas was originally supposed to be at Millies house too?? hm)

(loot at stolas lmao)

(this one is just really cool)

(All By Al Pullen)

Ozzie's

Quote by artist: "(...)some discrepancies did come up due to working with an older copy of the script and of course, other choices being made because they fit the vision better for different purposes."

(Interesting??? Older copy of the script? I would do anything to know what was originally there)

(Super crazy interesting considering how early these were made and the designs of the characters.. the artist did say they struggled on the designs a bit... still cool!!)

(LOOK AT THEM FUCK)

(All by Al Pullen again)

Mammons Mid-Season Musical

(look how cute he is in his lil cow-print robe)

(THIS ONE IS CRAZYYY who is that in the background?? Blitzo is taking the photo with Fizz it looks like, crazy!)

(this one is just cool)

Full Moon

(lol)

(LOOK AT MOZZIE AND MILLIE LMAO)

(OH NO)

(HOLY SHIT I LOVE THIS HOLY SHIT LOOK AT BLITZO LOSING HIS MIND AFTER THE FIGHT WHY DIDN"T THIS STAY IN THE SHOW)

(all by our monarch, Al Pullen again)

Apology Tour

(LMAOOOO STOLAS)

(HELLO????? NOT DELIVERED?????? "dude just talk to me" HELOOOOOOOO)

(THIS NEXT ONE IS CRAZY)

(WHO IS THAT???? HAVENT WE SEEN HIM BEFORE? WHY IS BLITZO DESPERATELY RUNNING AWAY FROM HIM??? HELLO?)

(THEY ORIGINALLY TALKED ON THE BANISTAR???? CRAZYYYYY)

(verosika ur gorgeous i love u)

(thank you Al Pullen)

Okay thats all! These are all Beat Boards, which as I understand, are like the first little sketch of the main plots/scenes of the episodes based on the original scripts. After these are made is when things begin to get changed around, designed, etc. I love them! They tell a lot about where each episode started vs where they ended. If you wanna see more, you can check out Al Pullen's twitter (squiderdoodle) or the fandom wiki!

[masterwizardperson]

So, I drew some of the OCs from this years tournament because I was bored

Incase you can't read:

Pip belongs to @emmyp0ps

Star belongs to @c0ffee-7

Starry Dee belongs to @staring-at-a-blank-pagee

Wilder belongs to @boomer293

Rainbow Dee belongs to @cali-kabi

Lydia belongs to @poyobox

I don't know if we're allowed to draw others' OCs before the tournament, but I'll be MAP testing and I really wanted to! So sorry I couldn't color them, it's really lste right now lol

[bimbowrites]

Loser Yan Smut

since the poll got 94% for yes to loser yan smut imma do it ^^

Losers do smth to me istg 😩

anywho— fem reader! reader implied to have slight muscle mass. (For all the strong girlies out there)

Warnings: Story build up, pegging, face sitting, sub character, dom reader, slight biting kink???, teasing, slight bondage, cowgirl (yan riding reader), slight feminization, masc fem reader, reader has a pussy, and cumming on stomach in pt 2

NSFW STORY BUILD UP BELOW CUT

You and Ozzie, didn’t know each-other- Well you didn’t know Ozzie. Ozzie knew everything of you from your favorite color to your date of birth. He was really just a loser that rambled about anything and the legend of Zelda any chance he got. Meanwhile you were the schools star female football player. Ozzie had drooled over rival football players getting tackled, wishing that it was him.

It was a regular high-school day, you were walking towards your algebra class and you see in the corner of your eye, a slim, pale, boy staring at you in awe. He quickly looked away and blushed, you smirk and find this amusing, maybe you’ll entertain this little big crush of this mysterious boy. You sit in your usual seat and start your assignment, solving the problems with slight trouble, you wonder and ask your seat mate next to you and he says he doesn’t understand either. So you ask the boy who was staring at you earlier for a bit of help.

“hey- do you know the answer to number 5 and 6?”

“Oh— uhm, it’s -27.96 and for number 6 it’s 2684.29..”

The poor boy struggled with the simple sentence and was a blushing mess. You smiled and thanked him, before writing the answers down on the paper. Ozzie then finished the assignment with ease and watched as reader, you, struggled a bit. He was about to offer up help, but didn’t want to be a burden for you. Ozzie then sighed and pulled out his sketch book and doodled your beautiful toned figure and your beautiful face off of memory, it was almost identical to you. Near the end of class, Ozzie quickly collected his stuff and walked out of the classroom, trying to speed to his next class and not get targeted by assholes. Alas, luck was not on his side and he got slammed into the locker by two boys and their girlfriends giggling as their boyfriends target the poor boy. You then walk by the group of people and head over to them, noticing one of them was your teammate on the football team. Then seeing the bloody nose loser on the floor panting, and teary eyes. “Hey- back off Elijah! Leave him alone!”

“do you know this freak, [name]?”

You roll your eyes and push the guy out of the way and help the guy on the floor up and walk away from the now, annoyed group. The boy now looking at you with a blush and bloody nose from being slammed into a locker. You glance at the scrawny looking man and smile. The boy looks away from your glance, his face turning a deep red hue.

“th-thank you for helping me from those guys..”

“oh? Those ass holes, don’t mind them, they’re just insecure jerks”

You shrug and walk the mysterious guy to the nurse, walking awkwardly beside him, his slight heavy breathing and eyes darting towards you every few seconds. You two soon approach the nurses office and get Ozzie’s nose cleaned up. You then awkwardly say goodbye and get to your next class with a tardy pass.

———

1 week later

———

It was another late Friday afternoon; game day. Where you had its final game against your biggest competition! You put on your shoulder pads and cleats, making sure your jersey was on correctly. You then hear the coach call for your team, you smile proudly and jog up to the bench on the sidelines, watching teammates look at each-other with fierce eyes and snarling faces.

Half way into the game, and it was your turn to shine, you get into position. Another male teammate teases you before they blow the whistle and everyone scrambled to get the ball. As you caught the ball you threw it to your teammate, the teammate fumbles the ball and falls, tearing the muscle in his knee. Ozzie watches as the game stops, envying the teammate getting your attention, seeing both teams get on their knee as they check the players knee, they then take the player out of the game, tending to him. Ozzie watches as you get back into position and sigh, seemingly stressed.

Ozzie watches until the end of the game, his eyes observing both your beauty and brawn like perfection. He thinks for a bit before walking over to you, ‘accidentally’ bumping into your chest. You look at the boy who fell on the ground and smirk. Your ego getting the best of you.

“Hey baby, what are you doing here, Ozzie, right?”

Ozzie almost creamed his pants at the nickname, but he let out a shaky breath. His face red and heated, as he looked up to your beautiful face. “Sorry.. I wasn’t looking where I was going (reader)” Ozzie says in a quiet and elated tone. Ozzie then was taken aback when you pulled him in by his waist, your tits pressing against his collar bone.

“I think that you’re lying to me, pretty girl.”

You said in a flirtatious manner, your hands still on his waist. Ozzie could blissfully live like this but his body started to react. His dick began to harden, he quickly realized and tried to hide his erection. You notice and chuckle, your breath against his face. You pull away and let go of his waist, slipping a piece of paper into his hoodie pocket.

As you walked away, he starts to read what’s on it. It reading your house address and a little message stating; ‘wanna have a good time pretty boy?”

He shutters and smiles sickeningly sweet, his dick straining against his pants as he already knew what you had in mind. He hopes that you don’t mind that he already knows where you live, and that he knows your parents are on vacation for the next two weeks.

As he walked to his house happily, when he opened his door, his maid greeted him and took Ozzie’s bag off of his back and calmly put his bag away before bowing and turning to finish cleaning. Ozzie then walked out to his room and started to prepare for his punishment for being a perverted loser, so he locked his door and walked to his closet and opened a hidden, locked, drawer. Filled to the brim with toys, one being your old vibrator and another being your dildo you’ve lost recently.

Ozzie then grabs lube and your underwear and pulls down his pants and underwear before pouring the the cold lube on his man pussy whilst grabbing your vibrator and dildo and sets the vibrator on medium, while he gently fingers his hole to loosen it up before plunging the dildo in his hole.

Ozzie lets out whines and moans as he accidentally brushes against his prostate in a rushed lust filled vision.

Pt 2??

[seventeenpins]

the stranger the better

pairing: Dieter Bravo x Reader word count: 5.6k summary: Dieter gets tentacles. That's the fic. content/warnings: uhhhh this one has a whole lot: importantly--TENTACLES!, lots of viscous body fluids, slight dubcon due to tentacles with a mind of their own??, buckets of cum, piv, tiv 👀, dieter is a switch, sex parasite, anal, masturbation, body horror, idk they're freaks and it's great, reader has a vulva but gendered language is not used a/n: this is basically just a crackfic that i've taken far too seriously. Also, shoutout to Ozzie @ozarkthedog for listening to all my dumbass thoughts and helping me finally get this finished!! ☺️😚

Dieter doesn't know exactly how the idea came to him, but he knows the important bits. It was, he reasoned, a sign- nay, a prophecy. He wishes he could replicate the exact cocktail of stimulants and psychedelics that allowed him to see this glimpse into greatness, because the results were eye opening.

Somehow, the universe injected into him an understanding of That Which He Sought.

He sketched it, painted it, utilized every descriptor he could think of, and sat down his PA, Todd, using every medium he had adequate command of to illustrate as clear a picture for his employee as was possible.

He was very thorough.

Todd, who Dieter often found unsettling due to the degree to which he was able to stay entirely un-rattled by anything, raised an eyebrow.

(Dieter didn't want to ruin the moment, but this was a fucking win.)

The PA's first response was "Excuse me, you want me to find you something that definitely doesn't exist because you had a drug-induced hallucination about it?"

On day five of Dieter waxing poetic, Todd needed it to end. He was already well adept at navigating the dark web--this was not the first time Dieter had had him track down something weird--but he had absolutely no doubt that Dieter was about to get scammed for a whole lot of money.

No skin off my nose, he reasoned, and negotiated the definitely-not-legit sale anyway. Whatever Dieter wants, Dieter gets. Hopefully, he'll be willing to accept the truth when no magical prophecy thing materializes at his door.

It's over a month later, when Todd feels confident nothing would turn up, and just as Dieter begins to accept this crushing defeat, that a strange, perfect cube of a parcel arrives.

It was a sleek box that felt somewhere between aluminum and heavy cardstock, with a heavier, equally sleek box inside. Something about it seemed almost extraterrestrial.

Todd placed it on the least cluttered corner of Dieter's immensely cluttered coffee table and made a prompt exit. If this thing was somehow the thing Dieter was after, he didn't want to be present for even a minute of the aftermath.

Hours later, when Dieter discovers the parcel, his heart begins to pound. With shaking hands, he unwraps it.

It's a bitch to open, almost akin to one of those puzzle boxes, but even more confounding. There are no visible seams. No obvious opening. He's halfway ready to take a hammer to it when, all of a sudden, it unfolds itself in elegant, silvery, petal-like plates.

Inside is a glass-like cube. Glass-like, but definitely not glass--it didn't have enough weight to it. Not plastic, either. The density wasn't quite right. Inside the cube is a strange, pulsating something.

It's the thing from his dream.

The pulsing thing is a little revolting, but mostly intriguing. (Todd would argue the reverse.) Shape wise, it's grub-like, maybe a handspan long, with its body made up of many near-identical segments. Both ends of it taper to a rounded bulb, and both ends are absolutely dripping with some sort of viscous fluid. No flared base, Dieter notes, and then decides it’s a nonissue.

As well as being, well, somewhat disgusting, it's also quite beautiful. It's iridescent, reminding him of some kind of shimmery beetle. It looks soft, and with every strange pulse, the sheen catches the light and throws rainbows in all the crevices of its little body.

Dieter immediately pops the weirdest boner.

For a man who's impulse control is about as ingrained as his commitment to abstinence, he's incredibly proud that he manages to wait until after this Friday's particularly tedious production meeting wraps up before getting started.

He has this weekend off, and gives everyone on his team the weekend off too. When the last person steps out the door, he locks up and promptly gets naked.

If his prophecy is anything to go off of, he expects this to get messy.

The shower pressure is perfect, and the temperature is just right. Slowly, tenderly, he works himself open. Sometimes he does this even when he doesn’t intend to put anything in his ass, sometimes it’s just for the sensation. This time, though, he absolutely does. 

He isn’t sure if he should run the -thing- under the tap first, cause it’s dripping so profusely he’s worried he’ll shoot it across the entire length of the bathroom like an errant bar of soap. In case the lubricating properties are necessary to the efficacy of the process, however, he holds it gently but firmly with one hand as he lifts it out of its, fuckin, transparent aluminum box, holding his other hand beneath it.

It’s slippery, that’s for certain. And when he presses it against the rim of his asshole, he experiences a very new feeling.

It wriggles. As if the nose? Tail? Indeterminate-and-hopefully-not-sentient-end of the thing seems to respond with enthusiasm the second it’s within sniffing distance of his favorite hole. He feels it pulse in his hand, gushing more of the fluid. For a moment, he’s certain the thing is going to evade his grasp and slip away but instead, as if burrowing, it slides itself up, up and away.

Dieter suddenly feels very full.

If he’s honest, this isn’t quite how he expected it to go. He thought he’d be more involved, for one. For another, he didn’t realize it would scurry so quickly into his butt. He thought he’d be able to hold onto it a little. Fuck himself with it. 

Gently, he presses a finger into himself to see if he can feel where it’s gone. Nothing. He switches from his pointer to his middle finger, slightly longer than the former, and presses even deeper, spreading his cheeks with his fist, sinking in as far as he possibly can.

He doesn’t feel it.

This may be precipitating a (not unfamiliar) ER trip, but he’s not ready to give up yet. Besides, this thing seemed at least a little organic. The likelihood of it perforating his bowel seemed pretty safely nonexistent, so maybe this one can be something of a wait-and-see.

Besides, maybe this is just the process! Little in life was actually straightforward, and his vision was pretty nebulous.

Maybe, to move it along, he needed to start by busting a nut. So he takes his cock in hand and starts pumping, feeling the hot spray of the shower on his back, working out all the kinks.

He’s hard, yes, and it does feel good. But after fifteen minutes of stroking himself, he realizes he isn’t experiencing pleasure, nothing that’s building or arousing, which is in itself a new experience. He can always feel pleasure. It’s the goddamn thing that’s gotten him into trouble more times than he can count.

Now, however, the shower’s started to run cold, his dick’s rubbed raw, and he’s no closer to an orgasm than he is to becoming an elected official. He’s been beaten by his own meat.

It’s absolute bullshit, but as he feels himself start to panic he manages to tamp it down a little. Nothing good will come from spiraling. Instead, he luxuriates in covering his entire body in a particularly wonderful-smelling body oil (for combination pampering and sore skin smoothing) and smokes a fat, fat joint. 

This was Tomorrow Dieter’s problem. 

He gives himself a couple more half-hearted tugs, just in case the oil makes a difference. It doesn’t, and it kind of burns, but he can at least go to sleep knowing he did the best he could.

Tomorrow’s a fresh start.

He slips into bed, takes a moment to appreciate the fabric against his bare skin. With a sigh, he drifts off to sleep.

Hot midday sunlight blasts through the gaps between the blinds. He should really get some of those non-gappy blinds installed. Or drapes. Nothing beats a good drape.

As he wakes up, something feels… off. He tries to sit up, but there’s something of a mass at his abdomen. He tries to brush it away–probably some detritus he’d left in his bed and forgotten about. Instead, though, the mass doesn’t budge. Instead, he’s suddenly overwhelmed by an intense, blinding pleasure. It hits him and takes over everything, and by the time he comes back down a whole minute later, he’s certain he must’ve just creamed his pants.

He pulls back the covers to check. 

Instead of the view he expects; his fat, hard cock, thighs, and tummy coated with cum–he finds a writhing, twisting heap of squirming tentacles.

He must still be dreaming.

Dieter slams his eyelids together. Presses the palms of his hands against his sockets till his vision goes brown and black spotty. Opens them again.

The tentacles are still there. 

Not knowing what else to do, he reaches out and touches one of them, gingerly. The same blinding pleasure hits him again. It’s only a gentle touch but already he knows that this isn’t just some wayfaring… squid that’s decided to make a home on his belly.

Nope.

This is definitely a part of him now.

He tries tensing and untensing his core muscles. One tentacle slaps out and hits the bed. Another two tangle themselves together. A fourth smacks against one of his nipples and, with a viscid sucker, pulls a desperate whine from him. Though some of the tips seem to always be emerging from him, he’s able to unfurl even more at will. He’d only noticed seven tentacles at first, then tensed, and a second row exploded from him while the outer layer smacked against the bed like a radial motif made of party horns. He thinks there might be even more. A third layer? A fourth?

When he’s able to relax a little and re-focus his attention, shaking, the inner layer sucks back in and he notices that the outer limbs have the same rainbow iridescence as the thing. Of course. Of course!

It takes time, more than an hour to start separating the new sensations from one another. To divide the writhing limbs and control them each individually. When he finally manages to high-five each of his outer tentacles, one-by-one, he’s certain he has at least enough control to avoid causing injury.

By this point, his cock is aching. He wraps two of the lowest tentacles around his length. The tentacles are thick, but his dick is too. They’re quite cold in a way that’s actually delicious. It feels like the cousin of the sensation he experiences when he slips ice cubes in his ass, only way, way more intense.

Just like that thing, too, the tentacles are dripping with the same viscous slick.

He works himself up. It's so intense, soo much stimulation, he half-expects to cum in a fraction of the usual time.

Instead, he finds himself hours later on the verge of tears, not a single orgasm in sight. 

His body simply will not allow him to cum.

It’s miserable, and clearly a horrible, horrible mistake. Will he be like this for the rest of his life, rife with tentacles and unable to clutch at his own pleasure? His dick is sore, having tugged at himself with every limb available. He has sucker marks on his nipples and throat. One tentacle is still squirming around inside his tight little hole and still he can’t reach his peak.

He needs a fucking break.

And maybe some food.

He checks the time. It’s later than he thought, nearly dinnertime. He’s spent his entire day on this.

He starts to formulate a new plan. Order food. Eat. Hydrate. Maybe he’ll scroll through his phone for booty calls and see if he can pinpoint one single person who might not get him sent away to Area 51. Maybe it makes a difference with another person? 

He barely thinks as he fills up his virtual bag and places an order. Leaves a massive tip because he’s getting into hangry territory and needs his food now. 

He shoots Todd a quick ‘I have tentacles now’ text, and closes his eyes.

It’s been a long day. A bit slow, which makes you itchy, but it hasn’t been too bad.

You’re about to call it a night. Grab yourself a bite to eat, and curl up at home.

Then your phone vibrates in your hand.

A delivery order pings on your phone and the tip is substantial. It’s incredibly close to you, too. You accept immediately, not wanting anyone else to get to it first. The tip alone can keep you afloat till after rent is due.

You rush, heading to the restaurant and, miracle of miracles, it’s a quiet night. The restaurant’s already working on the order and it’s only a matter of minutes before it’s ready to go. 

Twenty minutes from accepting the order, you’re walking up the footpath through a well-manicured succulent garden. The house is ostentatious. An enormous lazy river wraps around the home, and you have to cross over a bridge to get to the fucking door . When you get closer, though, you notice surprisingly beautiful carvings, spandrels, and various other decorative details that make it more than just a generic multi-million dollar cookie cutter home. It’s weird, but it has personality to it.

You get to the door and check the order details. It’s not a no-contact delivery. Instead, the message reads:

very sleepy. need food. 1) knock, if no answer 2) ring doorbell, if no answer 3) bring me food and wake me up and i’ll double the tip for your trouble the door code is 6969

Frankly, it seems a great way to get lured in by a wealthy eccentric and hunted for sport, or recruited to join a cult, or something else equally unfortunate. But self-preservation has never been a priority for you, and life is made to be lived.

You knock. You really want him to open the door himself. Even with permission, going in feels like an enormous invasion, and especially if this guy is sleeping, you really don’t want to tiptoe through this stranger's house.

On the other hand, though, you really can’t see yourself turning down that tip, if it comes to that. Definitely lends itself to your ‘this person is crazy’ theory, but you’re committed. You’re seeing this through.

You knock a second time and wait. Nothing.

Thankfully, after ringing the doorbell, you hear the shuffle of soft footsteps. The lock clicks and turns, and a moment later, you’re face to face with a rather disheveled individual.

His hair is mussed, sticking out in all directions, and, you realize, he looks familiar.

But it only takes a moment to forget that thought entirely.

At first, you hadn’t noticed that anything amiss. He was wearing a striped dressing gown over a crop top and sweats. The stripes, though, looked like they were rippling. And it wasn’t an actual crop top, either, no; the shirt had just been pulled up to accommodate what was on his midsection.

It took every effort not to drop the bag of food when you realize what it is.

“Oh,” he says, noticing your expression. He rubs at his temple, infinitely exhausted as he looks you up and down.

“You’re-” you start.

“Yeah, I’m Dieter Bravo-” he finishes.

You blink, shaking your head. He is in fact Dieter Bravo, you realize, but that doesn’t seem like the most significant thing happening here. “You’re covered in tentacles.”

“Oh,” he says again. “Yeah. I guess they are tentacles."

“Um, are they… yours?”

He shrugs, disinterested.

You fumble to find something to say, instead giving up and thrusting his bag towards him. 

He takes it after a moment.

“Thanks,” he says, not making eye contact. 

Apparently, putting on a robe was this man’s idea of concealing them. Now, he’s not trying to be discreet. The tentacles unfurl, most of them hanging heavy from his abdomen, nearly brushing the floor. Several, however, reach into the food bag and withdraw a burrito and a sauce container.

"Are they--" you watch as two of the tentacles start to unwrap the burrito. The foil tears a bit more than he intends, and then he dunks it a little too heavily into the sauce, which shoots out from the grasp of another tentacle. Salsa verde splatters everywhere. The limbs’ movements are apparently uncontrolled. "Are the tentacles new.. to you?"

He sighs. "Yeah. They just showed up this morning."

You’re not sure what to say. “Huh,” you venture.

“Yeah,” he agrees. But then he looks at you, surveys you, and narrows his eyes. He seems like he’s weighing something.

“Uh, this might be weird, what with this-” he gestures at the tentacles, “Situation. But-”

He hesitates, and you nod, encouraging. “But what?”

Dieter winces. Takes a deep breath, and lets it out.

“Do you wanna have sex with me?”

You look at him. At his tentacles. This is admittedly a lot. It’s almost certainly a bad idea.

But you made a promise to yourself and to your best friend years ago: If you ever have an opportunity to fuck an entity that has tentacles, you’d better say yes.

And it’s Dieter Fucking Bravo. You’re not backing down now.

“Yes I do.”

It starts surprisingly gently. You lean towards him and he cups your cheek in a broad hand, pulling you in.

This isn’t your first time kissing a stranger. If you’re honest, it’s something of a hobby of yours, so the experience of feeling a new give-and-take was familiar despite its novelty. 

What you’d never experienced before, however, was that from the first moment his tongue stroked into your mouth, you felt the most delicious pull.

You were already a little excited, but before even a moment had passed, you now felt yourself drench. Your pussy was drooling, the slick pooling between your legs.

You’re certain he can feel it too.

What had been a look of pleasure and curiosity twisted  into absolute hunger. You swear you can see his eyes dilating. After a moment, you’re certain yours must be, too. The room suddenly feels too bright.

Whatever disinterest he’d shown when you’d turned up at his door has dissolved, replaced with an urgent enthusiasm. “Fuck I’ve been needing this all day.”

From the front door, all down the hallway to the bedroom, a trail of clothing marks your path. 

Between kisses he explains.

“Ever since-” a kiss, “the tentacles–”

You grab him by the hair and he moans.

“I can’t cum. I’ve tried, for hours-”

You hop on one leg and then the other, peeling your socks off as Dieter steadies you by the waist.

“Been jacking off all day-,” he peels his own shirt off, hands flying frantically to make quick work of his clothes, “But I think I need someone else. My body just won’t work. Been hard as fucking rock but nothing happens-”

You slip an arm around his waist and drag your teeth along his collar, grinning when he melts into you.

“You poor thing,” you tell him, and you look in his eyes when you make your promise; “I’ll try and help, much as I can.”

"Amazing," He grins. “I feel better already.”

Dieter’s entirely bare, but you’re still wearing clothing. Something, you both realise, is passing between you. It’s a strange electricity that heightens every sensation. You feel the scruff of his beard against your cheek, you feel your underwear soaked. When he pinches at your nipple, you nearly howl at the pleasure that washes over you. 

As you feel each touch, the sensation builds in a way that’s totally alien to you. He shoves a hand in your pants and groans when he feels the thatch of hair at your cunt. He rubs two fingers along your slit, not stimulating your clit and not even trying to. He’s just warming up what feels like every single nerve ending in your entire vulva till you’re bucking against him.

He pulls his hand away and touches a finger to his tongue, tasting you. Two tentacles make fast work of the button of your jeans. Another wraps around your waist, lifting you up from the floor and suspending you in the air to peel the denim from you, unceremoniously tossing the garment behind you somewhere.

He’s fully naked. His cock hangs heavy and a little to the right, and there’s so much precum, it streams down his thigh where his tip meets the flesh of his leg.

You reach forward and wrap your fist around him. At your touch, he shudders. It’s a beautiful, desperate noise, and already, there’s so much more slick leaking out of him that any suspicion that this amount of oozy fluid isn’t normal is entirely confirmed. You wrap your hand around his length and he melts into your touch with a whine. 

The tentacles wrap around you. You’re not sure how many there are, and their movement is fast and intentional. The man in front of you is essentially a walking sex toy from your sickest, wettest dreams, and you will not waste this.

You reach for one of the tentacles, whatever is nearest to you. For a moment you think it’ll pull out of your grasp, but then it relaxes at your grip. You stick your tongue out and lick the tip, getting the suckers at the end nice and wet. Then, you realize it’s superfluous; the tentacles themselves are already leaking, oozing a pearlescent, cum-like fluid. For all you know, it is cum.

With your thumb, you swirl the slick around one of the larger suckers, and look Dieter right in the eye when you pull one of your bra cups down and press the sucker against your nipple. With barely a flick of effort, a tendril unhooks your bra, pulling it off of you before slicking up your other nipple and pulling a throaty moan from you.

His breath catches just watching you. It’s perfect suction, slick and firm and oh-so steady. 

“How many do you think you can take?” He asks, pink-faced and restless. The flush is so endearing. He looks desperate.

“Give me all you’ve got,” you tell him.

He whines and hisses. You think he might be deliberating, but after a moment it’s like a switch has flipped, releasing any inhibitions he may have held onto, unlocking his filthy tongue.

“Lemme see that wet little snatch,” he purrs, “That’s it, open those legs for me-” 

As if simply willing it–and that may as well be all that it takes–you both watch as one of the fat tentacles splits from the tip, sticky goo trailing between the trifurcated ends like an aloe vera leaf sliced apart. The three new tips writhe apart before slamming into your mouth. Two others pluck at your skin, marring the soft flesh of your inner thighs.

You yelp, muffled, as your legs are spread wide by slick, strong limbs, smaller tendrils prodding at your slick panties before giving up and tearing them apart. Elastic slips loose from your hips, and the gusset of the underwear is a ragged hole.

He steps closer, holds you effortlessly. You’re suspended by a whole mass of tentacles, the suckers pulsating against your skin, dark purple blooms beginning to bruise beneath them. Dieter’s face is so close to your cunt, your first instinct is to close your legs. He holds them open further, though, and breathes deep. “You smell like a fucking dream,” he praises, running a think finger along your folds, dipping in gently, stroking along you, finding where you’re most sensitive.

After a thorough examination, he steps back. “Gonna play with you, baby,” he tells you.

"Jesus Christ", you breathe. The tentacles in your mouth slip out and another tentacle presses at your opening. It slips with a lewd squelch and little resistance, pumps in a couple times, and pulls out to wrap around Dieter’s cock. He strokes himself with the slippery tentacle and lets out a groan.

"Feels like fucking heaven," he breathes, and another tentacle replaces the first, plunging into your cunt and pulsating, filling you so nicely, making you shake. 

You fight against the flutter of your eyelids. There’s so much sensation it’s hard to keep your eyes open, but you need to see him. Need to see this.

“Can you feel with them?” you ask, “With the tentacles?”

“Hmm,” he ponders, “Yes, but–” he slips a second tentacle in with the one already probing your hole and you feel very full. They twist and turn, writhing, pumping in and out of you. You’ve barely gotten started but you can already feel yourself start to build. At this rate, you’ll be squirting all over him in absolutely no time at all.

“I feel it,” he tells you, “And it feels really good, like, fuuuckkk–but it feels like it’s not just me controlling them. It is me, but it’s more than just me. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

“Then don’t,” you smile, “Just fuck yourself with them the same way you’re fucking me.”

He lets out another whine. It’s cute, really. Only a minute ago he’d been telling you what to do, and with the slightest prodding, he seems eager to obey. You could get far too used to this.

“C’mon, baby,” you coax, your hips canting, thrusting against the slippery tentacles pressing deeper, deeper-, “Keep going just like that. And open yourself up, too.”

He groans, and two tentacles move around him to start spreading his cheeks. A third prods tenderly at his hole.

Just as a third tentacle presses into your cunt, and another is gently pressing it’s suckers up your throat and holding you in place, Dieter is rendered incoherent as one thick tentacle shoves its way into him. Immediately, he sees stars. If this was the result of an entire day of edging, it was more than worth it.

You’re rutting against the tentacles that are fucking you, meeting each thrust. There’s a pulse pumping through each limb, making you feel impossibly full. When you look at Dieter, you’re certain you can see the bulge of a tentacle in his belly, filling him up so full.

You barely have time to process the build of your arousal before the tip of one of the tentacles suckers against your clit and another twists inside you, hits you in just the right way, and you tip over.

Cum spurts from you, your entire body convulsing. You try to close your thighs, try to pull away from the sensation, but you’re still being held aloft and spread out, fully bared. Instead of stopping or slowing, the tentacles only fuck into you faster and deeper. You can’t stop coming, certain at this point you’ve made a whole damn puddle on the floor beneath you.

Dieter watches, transfixed by the entire show that’s played out before him. He’s red-faced, his skin mottled with purple bruises, cock so hard it looks painful, and has a trio of tendrils ass-fucking him.

When your orgasm finally, finally tapers off, you almost expect your holds to release you. A new hunger stirs in you, though, and when you’re still held tight, you’re oddly grateful for it.

Dieter lowers you, pulling you towards him. He kisses you, open-mouthed and messy, groaning into it. After a few moments he pulls away from you, slick lipped and panting. When he speaks, his voice is raspy and desperate, a monstrous echo following it to create a bizarre, two-tone sound.

The tentacles that aren’t already on or in you both start whipping around, grabbing for purchase and pulling away as if they can’t make up their mind.

Dieter pushes you back. Starts to withdraw.

You hold him in place.

Now you can see his eyes.

They’re totally black. Even the sclerae are gone, murky with inky swirls, glassy and wide and beautiful.

“I- I think you need to leave,” he begs, “It’s too much. They’re taking too much from me.”

You reach out to put a hand on his cheek, and he leans in for a moment before flinching away.

“No!” He hisses, “You need to go. It feels too good, it won’t let me stop. I won’t be able to stop. I don’t know how far it’ll go, but if you don’t leave, I don’t think I can stop it.”

Warmth and clarity floods you. You’re not sure how much is your own mind, and how much is this thing that’s taken over, but it’s sweet, really.

He thinks you could stop if you wanted to.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, and you feel the way he melts, feel the way the tentacles stop fighting and start wrapping around your limbs again, their grasp pulling tighter and tighter, “You take what you need.”

With a sob, he lets go.

The tentacles set you down. Your legs shake, and you barely have time to blink before he’s on you. Any distance you had is gone now, his hands grasping at you, his body flush against yours. You can feel the weight of his cock against your thigh, the strength of his arms holding you. He’s steadying you, or maybe steadying himself. The skin-to-skin contact feels so fucking good and, if the way his hands fly all over you, you’re certain he feels it too.

One big hand grabs at your breast, the other clutching the flesh of your hip. He grinds against you, messy and sticky and so, so delicious. 

He settles you back against a surface, seats you and spreads your legs with his strong hands. A tentacle grabs at your jaw almost tenderly, plucking at the skin, holding you gently.

Dieter lines up his cock and sinks into you, groaning at the hot wet clutch that sucks him in. The surrounding tendrils wrap around you both. You’re certain there are still tentacles fucking into him, but you think another might join, right at the same time you feel the slippery tip of one prodding at your own asshole.

You relax into it, nod to let him know you’re ready, and moan as you feel the slimy length penetrate you. Dieter moans, too, entirely lost in the sensation.

He fucks you fast and deep. You’ve never felt fullness like this before. The pump of the tentacles into both you and Dieter matches his rhythm. 

“Fuck-” he croaks, desperate, “Think I’m getting close-”

“That’s it, baby,” you soothe, “Makin’ me feel so fucking good. Come on, baby, come for me-”

He pulls you into him, presses his lips to your in a kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth, longer and deeper than it has any right to be. It’s a tentacle, too, you realize, and you moan into the suckers that have started pulling at your tongue. It’s disgusting and absolutely exquisite.

He only manages two more thrusts before he explodes.

You feel his balls pulse, cum flooding your cunt. The tentacles pulse too, though, and soon your mouth is full, your ass, his ass. Like fireworks popping off in quick succession, every tentacle unloads, one after the next, painting the entire room in dripping swaths of cum.

He lets out a noise that sounds like something between a sob and a laugh, final blessed release at last reaching him. 

Dieter pulls out, but continues rocking against you, humping your thigh as his alien limbs continue to surge with spend.

After several long, sticky minutes, you unfurl from one another. With some distance between you, you’re able to see the damage that’s been done. The room is a disaster. You can literally see cum dripping from the ceiling.

Dieter’s looking around the room, too, but he doesn’t look concerned. No, he looks impressed.

“Well shit,” he surveys everything around him. “That was fun.”

You’re still catching your breath as he rummages around and procures a stash box. You can see a variety of substances; baggies filled with powder, assorted pills, a few things you don’t recognise, and a fat pouch full of bud.

He rolls a joint, licks the paper, packs it, and sparks it.

“So, uh-” you start, unsure where you’re going with it.

He beats you to it.

“You wanna stay over?”

You stare at him.

“I mean, it just seems rude to send someone home after sharing some life-altering tentacle sex, right?”

“I was unaware there was standard etiquette regarding tentacle sex.”

He shrugs. “All etiquette is just made up, right?”

A glob of cum drips from the ceiling and lands with a dull splat against the top of your head.

You burst out laughing.

Dieter’s eyes crinkle, and he’s laughing too.

He passes you the joint. You take it, wiping cum from your forehead.

“All right,” you tell him, “I’ll stay over.”

Dieter checks his phone, pulls up Todd’s text thread.

Beneath his tentacles text is Read 1:43pm. He rolls his eyes and follows it up.

you remember those cleaners? the good ones? the crime scene ones?

I need em

soon as they’re free

promise it’s not a crime scene this time

there’s just a lot of cum

After you’re both showered, you go to Dieter’s spare bedroom. Hazy from the weed and exhausted from the hands-down weirdest and best sex of your life, you collapse together.

Dieter’s tentacles look different. Smaller, maybe? Less hungry. Sated.

You fall asleep with his tentacles around you.

When you wake up, his arms are around you instead, holding you close. His abdomen is bare, only skin left.

You start to wriggle, to turn over, but something’s in your way.

There’s something at your abdomen, blocking your movements.

Dieter begins to stir. He stretches, rubs his eyes, and takes you in.

“Babe-” he grins, “You’ve gotta fuck me with those!”

Your own set of shimmering tentacles slip and writhe from your body. You pull him close, suddenly hungry, and get to work.

[weiila]

TFW you had so many delicious ideas about a movie project starring that little jester twink who was rumored to hang out with your favorite Sin, but due to recent revelations suddenly realize just where it would have gotten you.

Although note how Valentino is still so full of himself he thinks Ozzie would want to keep him around.

(Also that is a really bad contract and I'd hope Fizz even at his most manipulated would have been smart enough not to sign it with that new clause. Mammon was already sexualizing him to hell and back, that's a small next step to attempt. Ew. Yeah no I don't believe for a second Mammon was actually going to let Fizz lose the competition, he was too much of an easy to control cash cow.)

Trying to find my style again after not drawing for years, got stuck between "Oh I'll just try doing colored sketches" and "Brain automatically goes back to lineart" and ended up with something in-between. Ah well.

[hobiebrownismygod]

Could you make a hobie fanfic where you and hobie plan and paint a mural/graffiti and in doing discover things about each other? Idk I think that art can show a lot about someone and it would be cool to see that with hobie

OMG, this is such a cute idea!! What I wrote was a little bit short, so sorry if that's a problem. I'm willing to add on if you'd like more though :) I tried to include some indirect symbolism and characterization, but if it doesn't make sense, feel free to ask <3

Hobie Brown/Spider-Punk x GN!Reader

Sketch with Me - Short Fic

____________________________________________________________

In a universe where color was a crime, a city where individuality was a sin, and a culture based around greed and want, Hobie Brown stood out amongst the masses. Hobie had always been a child of chaos, never conforming to the ideals others imposed on him, and never trusting the higher-ups to know what was best for him. In a world where everyone kept themselves locked under a mask, Hobie Brown used his mask to express himself even further, surpassing a limit that had been pulverizing the citizens of London ever since that dreadful election.

But that mask wasn't the only way for him to indirectly flip Osborne off.

"A mural?"

"More of graphic declaration, but yes."

"That's what a mural is."

"Eh..."

You gave your best friend a sore look, eyes running over his figure sprawled out across the couch and boredly shredded paper between his fingers. He sat up and looked back at you, that mischievous grin spreading across his face. "And I know just the place to do 't."

"No."

He blinked at you. "B-But you 'aven't even heard what I was gonna say-"

"One of Osborne's places, right? They're always swarming with cozzies (cops)." You said, folding your arms over your chest as you glared at him. He nodded sheepishly, standing up and walking over towards you. "I'm not going to get myself arrested for some lousy graffiti."

"I won't let y'get arrested." he looked a bit hurt at the fact that you didn't believe he'd be able to keep you out of jail.

"You can't promise that." You replied, paying no mind to his frown.

"But I can." he held out his pinky towards you, tilting his head to the side with a smile. "I swear." You rolled your eyes at him, muttering your annoyance under your breath before you interlocked your finger with his, effectively giving him what he wanted and signing your refusal away.

"What are we gonna paint?" You asked with a sigh, moving over so he could sit next to you. He plopped down on the couch. "I don't care what it is as long as it pisses Ozzy off." he grinned, leaning back against the couch. "Lot's of color, lot's of tongues and lot's of harsh words. He won't like that ruining his pretty mansion."

You snorted under you breath, grabbing his sketchbook from the table in front, along with a half-broken pencil. You flipped through while he watched, stopping on a blank page and pressing the pencil against the paper. You hesitated, looking back at him. "So...what are we gonna paint?"

"What do you want to paint?" He asked, cocking his head to the side. "Mmm..." you began to sketch out a rough outline of what you wanted to spray onto that wall. He wanted colorful. Hobie leaned over your shoulder, watching as you messily drew out what looked somewhat like a woman's side profile, her hair sticking up in odd, angled spikes and a lollipop protruding from her mouth. Her eyes were closed, with long, thick lashes, and you sketched in a singular teardrop falling down her cheek.

Hobie nodded, a small smile spreading across his face. "Tha's lovely." You smiled back, putting the book down and staring at it, biting the inside of your cheek as you mulled over what else you could add. Hobie ran his finger along the outline of her hair. "Make it rainbow, lots of green and purple."

His eyes lit up as he traced his finger onto the tear. "And make this red."

"Red?" you asked with a laugh. "Tears aren't red."

"'s not about what color they are normally. It's about wot they symbolize." He said cockily, pulling out the collar of his shirt with his finger as if he was too hot. "Yeah?" You asked with a laugh. "And what do they symbolize?"

He thought for a moment. "Anger." He looked back down. "Yeah, anger. Anger at wha's going on in London, anger at those wankers up in Ozzy's parties, anger at-" he stopped himself, taking a deep inhale as he sat back. "You know what I mean" his expression darkened.

You put your hand on top of his, offering him a reassuring smile before you labeled down the teardrop as 'red'. "For the words, I'm thinking we could write words that her face will cover up." You scribbled down random things like 'money' and 'police', erasing the parts that her face covered up. "Yeah, that's cool." He said, tone returning back to normal.

"We put the A on her cheek" Hobie added, referring to the ACAB symbol he added onto all his graffiti art pieces. You obliged, writing down a small 'A' that the two of you would detail when you actually painted it later. The two of you looked over it one last time. "It's simple." you said with a slight frown. "It's perfect."

He stood up with a grin, offering his hand over to you. As you took his hand, he pulled you towards him, picking the sketchbook out of your grasp and tucking it into his vest before he spun you around.

"Let's go cause some chaos, shall we darling?"

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