#all to make a janky gif

[mischieviem]

Sketch animation I did in one sitting

[zichqec]

Freeshell "Lollipop Tanktop"

I made another freeshell! This one's a girl with a tattoo and a lollipop. Her leg moves back and forth, occasionally kicking forward.

She comes with all the recommended expressions, as well as variants with eyes pointing in different directions and some alternate arm poses. (Altogether it comes to ~400 combinations!)

She also comes with 9 premade color options and 9 tattoo options, which you can mix and match to get something you like! You're also welcome to create your own colors and make custom tattoos if you like (there's a psd included).

It's free! Go check it out! Make a ghost! You could take this freeshell, stick it in Simplicity Template, and make a ghost without doing ANY art and no code other than settings and writing your scripts! Writing simple little ghosts is really fun, I highly recommend it.

[23meteorstreet]

not sunny related but look at my character animation. 

[jazziejax]

𝐌𝐲 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Dev-Em x Black!OC

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - In which the sudden crash into the backyard of a southern belle’s Louisiana bayous home leads to the unexpected meeting of an outer space alien and regular baker

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Fluff, chile, idk superpowers maybe?

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - I think this might be my favorite story so far. I love superhero’s and lovey-dovey fluff and this is all that plus a fine ass man so…UNEDITED!!! Sorry for any spelling errors. I’m also working on my other works so you’ll be getting an update soon! Also, tagging never works for me so if the tag list is janky, I’m so sorry. Let me know if you want to be apart of it and what you guys think, LOVE YOU!!!<3

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 7,109+

Tonight was quiet, oddly enough. The air was still, with no sound of the soft chirping of crickets or a lighting bug in sight, save for the occasional breeze of the warm southern wind. The usually humid air now had a cool breeze to it, less sticky and sweeping the curly flyaways at the back of her neck, causing her to occasionally reach back to swat at the feeling of false flies. Her curly fro was in a bun at the top of her head, a silk scarf wrapped around the base and a pencil stuck in her hair rather than behind her ear since she was wearing her glasses. She was reading some physiological thriller about a woman and her husband’s mistress. She was almost done and was anticipating the crossword puzzles it had in the back.

She sat on her porch in a creaky rocking chair, a book resting on her lap and a glass of iced tea sweating on the small table beside her and her small orange, Mufasa, resting on the floor. She then sighed, tilting her head back to lean against the back of her chair. “I pray a marriage like this never finds me.” She said to herself after the woman caught her husband and the mistress again, the pair telling her their creed story to ruin her life and walk away scotch-free and with all the money. Her gaze was locked on the stars, able to see the twinkling rocks due to the small amount of artificial light available in the Bayou neighborhood.

This was how every night was for her. She ended the day on her porch, her fluffy robe covering whatever she decried to wear that night as she softly rocked back and forth in her old chair, reading whatever book she picked up next from the porch swing, that seat was filled with all the books she bought when she first moved into the large home. Then she’d end it all by giving the stars one last glance. Looking between the constellation patterns she could recognize and the occasional star-link that slowly moved across the sky. And the North Star shined big and bright in front of her, angled perfectly with the spot of her chair.

But the twinkling was different tonight. The stars seemed to shine brighter than usual. Everything about tonight was different.

That’s when she saw it. A streak of light tore across the sky, burning bright like a falling star. She stood up with a gasp, looking at the moving ball. “Oh my goodness, a shooting star.” She said softly. She started at it as it moved across the sky before quickly clasping her fists together. “Ohh! I gotta make a wish.” She held them up to her chest, tightly shutting her eyes. She then took in a beep breath.

I wish…for something new. Something fun and exciting. Anything……Anything to make my miserable life a little less lonely. She thought to herself, her thoughts dwindling within her mind once she realized how sad and pathetic she sounded. She let out a small sigh, opening her eyes and placing her hands on her hips. “Now this is just sad, Magnolia Etienne.” She shook her head at herself. She then crossed her arms, giving the sky one last look. It was empty now, with no moving stars in sight. Pushing her lips, she turned around and picked her book up from the soft pad placed on the seat of her rocking chair.

She tucked her book under her arms and squatted to scratch behind her cat’s ears. “Come on Mufasa, time for bed.” She said. The lazy cat perked up at the sound of her voice and her fingers in his fur. He meowed as he leaned into the touch, rising from his lounging position, the bell on his collar emitting a soft ding. She grabbed her glass of tea and began to make her way into her home, opening the screen door.

She held the door open, watching Mufasa waddle his way past her. She had a small smile on her face before closing both of her doors behind her and locking them. She watched as Mufasa trudged his way up the stairs to her right while she went to the left, right into the archway that led to the large kitchen. She poured the rest of her tea down the drain and placed the dark green glass in the sink. She then scurried out of the kitchen back through the same archway and began to make her way up the same stairs as Mufasa.

She was only halfway up before she heard what sounded like a large freight train coming near. She couldn’t pause to contemplate what the sound could be before a loud explosion sounded from outside. The entire house shook at the crash, the pictures on the wall jittering at the vibrations while Magnolia tried to keep her balance as she leaned against the wall next to her for stability. She heard Mufasa’s loud screech from her bedroom before she saw the orange ball bumbling down the steps towards her.

Magnolia’s heart pounded within her chest as she suck to the floor, scooping her cat into her arms as she waited for things to die down. Her home still vibrated after the lasting effects of the crash, which she could tell was close due to the sound and her still shaking home. And after that, for only a moment, everything was still. The only sound was her shallow breathing and Mufasa’s soft bell as he moved within her arms. She then slowly pushed herself up, her heart hammering in her chest.

“Lord have mercy,” Magnolia breathed, scrambling to her feet. She stumbled up the stairs, her cat still in her arms as she made her way down the hall and to her bedroom. She gave no regard to the clothes on the floor as hopped over them, quickly grabbing the shotgun from beside her bed. She didn’t wait another second before rushing down the stairs. She went to her left, leaving her into the living room, making her way over to the bay window tucked to the side, and looking out the large glass panels.

A glow white emitted from her backyard through the smoke of the explosion. She furrowed her brows as she blinked, wondering what could’ve possibly crashed landed on her property of all things.

She pushed herself from her knees on the cushion window seat to pull out the ball draw under it, pulling out a large flashlight. With Mufasa still in her arms, along with her gun and now her tool, she made her way to the back door of her home. She took slow steps from the living room to the dining room, the white glow dimming down before her eyes through the curtains of the home. Once she made it past the seating area and into the kitchen, she hit the screen door leading to the back porch. She paused, gulping as she looked through the mosquito net that stopped at her knees.

“Okay, Mufasa. This is probably really stupid.” She said to the cat in her arms. “So I’m bringing you out here in case I die.” She looked down at him, only to meet his disinterested expression, a consistent look of his. “I want you to run to Leroy’s house and tell him I’m gone. He’ll take care of you.” She gave him a sad smile. Mufasa just blinked.

“You don’t give a damn.” She sighed before leaning down a little to drop him from her hands. She stood straight with a small huff, calming her nerves and collecting herself before stepping out of the door. She wiped her palms on the side of her soft purple robe, switching the cold metal of the rifle between her hands. She then began to stretch her arms and shoulders, pulling one arm over her chest to the opposite side. Once done, she placed the gun in her hands, positioning it just right in case she needed to aim. She also held the flashlight.

Magnolia squinted as she pushed open the door, the smoke from the explosion seeping into the bottom of the door. Mufasa rushed out into the smog that had eased its way up the steps of her porch.

Her breath hitched as she pushed open the screen door and stepped onto the back porch, her sock-cladded feet pressing against the cool and damp wooden boards. She squinted out into the yard, trying to see past the smoke that was beginning to roll into the bayou waters not far from the grass.

She took a few more steps out, stepping down the first few creaky steps of the porch. She could hear the soft bell of Mufasa’s collar coming from the center of the explosion. Her heart was pounding within her chest as she stepped closer and closer, her flashlight finally giving her some justice of sight into the space of the crash. “Please let it be…oh, hell, I don’t know, nothing crashing into your backyard is good.” She said softly to herself. “Unless it’s money in a safe. That’ll be good if I could get the safe open.” She tried to calm herself down, her mind racing on something that could potentially kill her or have her making some sort of official report.

Her breath hitched at the sight before her, the fog dimming to reveal what lay in the middle of her garden. Right where her prized tomatoes used to grow, was a smoldering crater, smoke curling into the humid night air. She edged closer, the shotgun held tight to her chest and then froze when she saw it—someone, or something, lying in the wreckage.

“Well my, oh, my.” She whispered. There was a man in the crater. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and covered in soot. His clothes—or what was left of them—looked strange, like some sort of uniform or armor that had been ripped apart in the impact, the black suit shimmering in the moonlight. Blood streaked his face, and his breathing was shallow, which she could only tell that he was doing by the way the smoke cleared from his face. She stood there, shocked at what she was seeing. She glanced around the crater, looking for anything else that could indicate what happened or caused the crash, but there was nothing. No debris, shrapnel, scraps, nothing. Just him and the hole.

Mufasa sat himself next to his head after giving the man a quick sniff. He then reached out a placed a paw on the unconscious man’s head, turning his head to give the woman his same disinterested face. Magnolia hesitated, but only for a moment. She then dropped her arms, letting out a deep sigh. “Reckon I can’t just leave you out here,” she muttered to herself, setting the shotgun aside.

She placed her hands on her hips, observing the scene before her. She then let out another sigh before moving her way into the crater with the man and giving her cat a look. “You gon’ just sit there and stare or are you gonna help a sista out?” She asked, bending to the man. Mufasa just yawned, giving her the same look, causing her to let out a small scoff. “No help, as usual. You know, I don’t even know why I let you live with me, rent-free.” She snarked at him as she moved to grab the man’s upper body to drag him away. “You’re gonna have to start carrying your own weight.” She groaned as she took steps. Mufasa just sat next to him, watching as she struggled. “Of course not now.”

It took all of her strength to drag him into the house. She groaned all the way into the home with the weight of the man in her arms. Mufasa did nothing but follow her, at the heels of the unconscious man, stopping now and then when Magnolia dropped him to catch her breath. “Just give me a sec. This guy’s a bolder and you’re no help.” She’d puff out. Then she’d only receive the small ding of his bell as some sort of response. “I have gots to stop talking to my cat.” She sighed.

By the time she got him onto the couch, she was sweating and cursing under her breath. His weight was unreal, like trying to move a fallen redwood tree. Once he was settled, she went to the kitchen and gathered a large bowl with some warm water and a fresh sponge. She sat the materials on the small coffee table next to him, then focused on his clothing. “Dammit, you need clothes.” She sighed. She rushed up the stairs to her bedroom, grabbing her biggest items of clothing, which she usually slept in. Her joggers weren’t that baggy, at least not enough to fit him, so she went for the large basketball shorts she always wore for whatever reason.

After collecting those, she went back down to begin cleaning what she could.

Surprisingly to her, he had no wounds on his skin, even though dried blood littered his face and neck. She was a little glad that was all it was since that meant she didn’t have to run back upstairs and gather supplies to clean his wounds. But that also made her even more confused. She still wasn’t fully clear on what exactly had happened for him to end up in her backyard. But she cleaned the air and debris from his skin as best she could.

“Where in the world did you come from?” She murmured, her eyes lingering on his sharp jawline and high cheekbones. He was a beautiful man. His skin was smooth, the light brown color warm against the warm lighting of her home. His face was clean-shaven, not a hair in sight besides the ones in his head, which were cute and curly. She couldn’t help but notice his large features. They were attractive. His lips were strong and structured. His nose was perfect, symmetrical, and sculpted to his face. What she admired most was his ears. His large ears were…cute.

That’s all she could say about him.

He didn’t respond to her soft voice, just lying there unconscious, his chest rising and falling steadily. She worked quietly, her cleaning moving from his face to his chest after she struggled to remove the tattered uniform. The cleaning seemed to ease the racing heart and her wandering mind. Her nerves settled as she busied herself. Once he was cleaned up and changed, after trying her best to not admire his exquisite physique like some perv, she covered him with a quilt, sat in the armchair opposite him, and waited, her shotgun resting across her knees.

“Okay, Mufasa. Now we wait.” She said, leaning back in the shake, her gaze locked on the arms. She didn’t get to change his pants, not wanting to do anything past taking his combat boots off and making it extra creepy on her end, so she just settled for the shirt.

It didn’t take long before she was feeling the effects of sleep hitting her like a bolder. Her head was leaned back against the back of the chair while Mufasa was curled against her feet. And just as she was zoning off, suddenly remembered.

I wish…for something new. Something fun and exciting. Anything……Anything to make my miserable life a little less lonely.

𝐌𝐲 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

It was the smell of bacon that woke him. Not that he knew what that was. But it was a strange smell nonetheless. His eyes snapped open as he woke with a start, and for a moment, he panicked. His body jolted as though he’d been dropped from a great height. For a moment, disorientation flooded him. His heart dropped and his mind became alert. The room around him was unfamiliar—soft light filtering through the lace curtains and stained glass windows, casting patterns across the dark hardwood floor. The air smelled faintly of lavender and wood polish. The walls were lined with framed pictures of smiling strangers, and the faint hum of a ceiling fan on the ceiling. He pushed the thick and cold quilt off his chest and sat up too quickly, causing his head to swim.

That’s when he heard it—the soft clatter of ceramic plates and titanium pans clinging together. His senses seemed to sharpen as he zoned in on the sound, hearing the quiet hum of a tune being sung under someone’s breath. “I’ve been loving you, too long.” He heard the voice of a woman sing as the smell of meat filled his nose, along with a hint of something sweet. He could hear everything else as well, from the steady hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen, the faint creak of the house as it settled, and even the low rumble of a truck passing somewhere far in the distance. He rose to his feet cautiously, glancing down at himself. His torn armor was gone, replaced with a clean t-shirt that fit his frame a little tight.

He could feel the memories rushing back to him, but it all wasn’t clear. He could only remember being in the escape vessel before something happened and then it all cut the heat he felt from the speed of the ship and then the crash. He remembered home but he didn’t have a clue as to how anything led to now.

He then realized his body felt different when he stood. Stronger. Lighter. He looked down as he clenched a fist and felt the sense of power or energy, humming just beneath the surface, waiting. His gaze darted around the room, catching sight of a mirror on the wall near the fireplace. He moved over to it, looking at his clean and clear face. He looked as if nothing happened. He then turned back around, observing the place he was now in.

The house was large but cozy, every surface filled with framed photographs, antique knickknacks, and small vases of wildflowers. A knit blanket had been folded neatly and draped over the back of the green couch he rose from, his quilt discarded on the floor. He then saw some sort of gun leaning against a chair angled towards the couch—close but not threateningly so. He turned his head and then began his move toward where he heard the voice from, causing the wooden floor to groan softly beneath his weight. He flinched at the sound, but even as he moved, his senses adjusted. He could hear her still. Her voice. She was humming. The faint sound of a song he didn’t recognize on her lips.

Dev’s brow furrowed, and he tilted his head as though he could see through the walls. His senses then kicked in without permission. The faintest shift in his vision brought the world into sharp relief. He blinked, startled as the wall in front of him seemed to blur and fade, revealing a woman standing by the stove, her honey-roasted skin shining in the sun that seeped through the kitchen, and the reddish tint to her hair swept into a mess of curls at the top of her head, wrapped in a emerald green scarf as she stirred something in a skillet. He could see through the wall, clear as day.

He stumbled back, a rush of panic tightening his chest. What was happening to him?

The creak of the floorboards gave him away as he stepped toward the kitchen. “Good mornin’.” The soft voice called to him before he even reached the doorway. He hesitated, his muscles tensing as he stepped further into the room. And there she was—the woman he’d seen through the wall. She was a young woman with very curly hair and a lot of it. She was standing at the stove, her back to him as she poured batter mix into the small waffle machine next to the stove. She glanced over her shoulder, giving a view of her face. Her expression was kind but wary.

“Figured you’d wake up hungry.” She said, gesturing toward the small table near the window to their left, where a plate full of food was already waiting.

His gaze shifted to the plate, looking at the many varieties of food on it. They then darted around the kitchen, taking in every detail—the mismatched stool chairs at the island-style bar and the ones at the table, the vase of wildflowers in the center of the table, the open window letting in a soft breeze. He could hear the sound of water faintly moving from the open pane, ducks quacking and mosquitoes buzzing. He gulped, brows furrowed as he tried to take in everything that surrounded him, wondering if he could piece together where he could be from the environment and her weird clothing. His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. “Where am I?”

She stopped what she was doing to slowly tune her head towards him, face contorted in confusion “Louisiana.” She said, blinking at him as if his question had an obvious answer. But then she realized that none of last night seemed to make sense and she wasn’t quite sure if she was still dreaming or not.

“You’re in Baton Rouge, Louisiana.” She added, turning back to what she was doing. There was a long silence between them, causing her to turn her head back around and see that the man was now just looking at her, his expression guarded but confused. She pursed her lips, giving him an awkward smile. She then quickly turned the heat down on the gas stove, just letting the bacon fry as she turned back to face him.

“You, uh,…kinda crash-landed in my backyard last night.” She began, her face still fringed in its uncomfortable expression. “Crazy, I know! I, uh, I thought you were dead for sure, but you were breathin’, so I just brought you on in.” She shrugged as she explained. The man just stood there, his face still stoic but confused. He frowned, thinking of it all since his memory was still fuzzy. The last thing he could still recall was the explosion... and then falling. He closed his eyes, fragments of his home flashing in his mind. Memories flooded his mind, his friends, and family. But none of it was clear. How he got here wasn’t clear.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” She questioned, breaking the silence. His eyes snapped open, and for a moment, he said nothing. He just stared at her, watching the wince she had on her face as she seemed to register just about all it meant with him being there. Finally, he shook his head. “No. I’m not.”

She nodded slowly, opening the waffle maker and then setting the hot cake on a plate on the island behind her. “Well, I figured as much, seein’ as you were wearin’ somethin’ that looked like it came out of one of those space movies and whatnot.” She grinned uncomfortably as she nodded her head. “And the fact that you…crashed into my backyard.” She added, letting out a slight wince. “But...you don’t seem like you’re here to hurt me, so...” She trailed off. She wasn’t normally such a nervous wreck when it came to speaking to people, and oddly enough especially strangers.

And she wasn’t even nervous that there was some stranger in her house. Well, not fully since she was the one that brought him into her home. She was just extremely confused over the whole occurrence of everything. The wish, the shooting star, him…crashing into her backyard and it all being real? She felt like she was losing her mind and the only thing keeping her sane was speaking. And the boatload of cooking she did.

“I’m not,” he said quickly, his tone firm with his eyes locked on her form. She gulped, her hands anxiously fiddling with each other on the counter as she faced him. “Good to know.” She said with a small smile, before grabbing the waffle plate and moving it to the small table next to the window. She placed it on the table with the rest of the food and then began untying her apron. She looked over at him, offering a soft smile as she brought the cloth over her head. “Have a seat.” She gestured to the wooden chair next to her.

Dev just stood there, his gaze unwavering from her face as she stared at him, her eyes jumping between his features. “Please.” She added softly before taking a seat in the bay window booth that circled the small table. Dev steadily moved to the table, pulling out one of the wooden chairs on the opposite end of the table, since the window provided a seat for the other side. He sat across from her, his eyes on the food before him while she watched his every move.

Once he was seated, she began again. “Name’s Magnolia, by the way. Most folks just call me..well, Magnolia. Never really had a nickname.” She grinned at him. Deb just nodded his head, looking at her. There was a pause between them, the pair staring at each other. Sitting there, she just realized the color of his eyes. The striking bright eyes stared into her soul. She couldn’t tell what coke they were, shades of all colors within them as they shined in the light coming through the window behind her.

He admired the way the sun seemed to shine around her like some sort of glow emitting from her skin. The glow made her hair seem as if it was on fire as it lightened it.

“Dev-Em.” He replied, though his voice was stiff, awkward. Magnolia’s brows spiked, his voice snapping her out of her thoughts. “That is my name.” He clarified.

“Well, Dev-Em.” She said, leaning back in her chair. “I might regret saying all of this but, you know, I think I kinda brought this onto myself.” She said, letting out a nervous laugh. “You’re welcome to stay here till you get back on your feet. As long as you don’t wreck my kitchen, we’ll get along just fine.” She grinned.

Dev hesitated, unsure of how to respond. His instincts told him not to trust so easily, but there was something about her—her calm demeanor but anxious jittering under his gaze, the way she didn’t press him for details of everything—that made him nod. “Thank you.” He said quietly.

Magnolia smiled, though there was a touch of nervousness in her eyes. “You’re welcome. Now eat before it gets cold.” She said, beating to the food. She quickly then began to dig into hers, pouring a little bit of syrup onto her waffle.

As he picked up his fork, the smell of the food under his nose made his stomach growl. “Thank you.” He said. Everything from bacon to eggs laid around, the option of grits and oatmeal offered with an assortment of toppings for their specific taste, for the oats and their small waffles. For the first time in days—maybe longer—he felt a small flicker of safety. Magnolia watched him from across the table, her gaze softening as she saw the guarded tension in his shoulders begin to ease. She stuffed her face with the food, watching as he did the same across from her. She wasn’t too sure of where he came from, her best and most logical bet was that he fell from a plane, even if that didn’t make any sense as to why he had no scars. Or broken bones. Or why he was alive.

All that to say, she wasn’t sure if he had the same food as she did, but he didn’t seem to care with the way he tore into it.

“Well,” She said, breaking the silence with a teasing tone. “You sure are polite for an alien.” She let it slip before she could even think of it, dropping her fork onto her place as she placed her head in her hands.

Dev looked up, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Alien?”

Magnolia let out a small huff before she shrugged, an unsure grin tugging at her lips. “I mean, you did fall from the sky.” She began, her face slowly morphing into one of uncertainty. “At least, I think so. I’m not too sure anymore, last night was sort of a blur and I’m just very confused.” She sighed, going back to her food with a dejected look on her face. “If I could ask Mufasa I would.” She mumbled before taking a chunk out of her bacon.

Deb only became more confused, still eating as he looked at her.

“Mufasa?” He repeated, his accent and not hearing her making him pronounce the name wrong. But it didn’t seem to matter anyway before the bundle of orange bound into the kitchen, his bell letting out a soft ding as he brushed his fur against Dev’s bare feet on his way to the bench with Magnolia. Dev’s eyes slightly widened at the sight of the animal that situated itself next to the woman, just staring at him with a bored look. A little too expressive for an animal, might he add. Magnolia just glanced over at the cat.

“That’s Mufasa.” She said in a monotone before looking back at the cat. “And what did I tell you about being in my kitchen? This is not some white folks home, get.” She said sternly, pointing out of the door he came. The orange cat let out a single meow before jumping from the booth and trudging his way out. Dev’s eyes just went back to her once the animal was gone, confused and a little concerned at everything he’s witnessed so far.

Seeing his confused look, Magnolia squinted her eyes at him. “Me talking to my pet is the least of your concerns right now.” She said, menacingly gesturing her fork at him before digging back into her food. Dev let out the faintest chortle at her words before digging back into the delicious meal.

After finishing most of the meal in silence, Dev suddenly spoke. “Do you know what happened to me?” He asked, his voice low and full of strained pain.

Magnolia paused, just about to place a strawberry into her mouth. She then blinked, it clicking within her mind that he might not remember much. She then let out a small sigh before sitting the fruit down. “Well sugar, to put it simply, I’m not all too sure.” She said, shrugging. Dev blinked at the nickname but didn’t look up from his plate as she continued, feeling her gaze on him. “One moment I’m on my porch, reading a book and enjoying the stars. Next, there’s a crash in my backyard and I go back there to see you on my precious tomatoes.” She explained. “Though they weren’t that precious, some animals’ been nipping at ‘em and I actually don’t like tomatoes.” She grinned.

Dev’s face stayed stoic, his gaze moving from his food for only a moment. He glanced at her before looking away from her soft gaze. He shook his head, his frown deepening as he thought of it all. “I just……everything is different. I feel different. Things are louder and brighter for some reason.” He began to explain. He didn’t know why he was confessing all of this to her, or even speaking on his feelings in the first place. But it just felt like the right thing to do. It was the only thing he had left to him.

Magnolia’s face sided even more, leaning her head down to gaze at his face more, seeing the internal conflict he was having. “Do you, remember what happened?” She questioned hesitatingly.

Dev gulped before shaking his head, finally raising his eyes to look back at her. “All I remember is…leaving. Leaving my home. Anything after that is fractured.” He stated, staring at her. Magnolia gave him a soft smile, looking him in the eye. Her heart hurt for him. He seemed so alone, and even though he was trying his best to hide it and stay strong, she could tell he was on the brink of breaking. This seemed to be the point to drive him over the edge.

“Well, I don’t really know what you’ve got goin’ on with all that, you know, this is a strange situation. But you were a mess when I found you.” She stated. “All bloodied, bruised, looking like you’d just been through hell. I cleaned you up as best as I could and let you rest. That’s all I could do.” She said.

Dev seemed to relax slightly, though the tension in his shoulders didn’t completely fade. He glanced down at his hands again, the memory of him looking through the wall and the power he felt at the end of his fingertips.

“Listen,” Magnolia said softly as she reached over to place her hand on his still one. Her voice alone caught his attention, but her gentle tone and her soft touch ignited something within him deep down that he couldn’t understand nor dwell on at the moment. “You’re safe here, okay? Whatever’s happenin’, we’ll figure it out. I’ll help you as best as I can.”She smiled at him. “I mean, I couldn’t imagine going through what you’re going through alone. I’d want the help.”

Her words surprised him. He’d expected suspicion, fear, even hostility. But there was none of that in her voice. Just... kindness. He nodded slowly, still wary but grateful nonetheless, subconsciously flexing his hand under her thumb that rubbed against the back of his hand. Magnolia smiled, a little nervous but genuine, and scooted her way off the bench.

“Good, because now we’ve got to get you settled.” She smiled before rising from her seat. Dev furrowed his brows, his eyes trailing her as she walked away with her plate. “You better hurry up and finish. First thing first, we gotta get you checked out to make sure everything is okay.” She said, not running to face him as she began cleaning her mess. Dev’s heart spiked at her words, concern texting his way into his chest as he thought of having to leave. And then interact with the people outside. And their environment.

As if she could sense his worry, she started again. “And done sweat it too much, I’m real close with a doctor down here named Leroy. He’s at work right now but we’re gonna go give him a little visit and then after that, we’ll get you all set.” She said. She then sat down the rag she had and turned to face him. Even though his face didn’t show it, she could see the questions flying within his mind. She held her hands out in caution, stepping back over to the table. “It’s okay. I trust Leroy with my entire life. He’s been there for me since I was a baby. Technically a step-grandpa but we were never raised in the same home and it’s just really complicated so I just call him Uncle Leroy.” She rambled.

Dev just started up at her, and she tried her best not to get lost in his large sea-green eyes. He then nodded before going back to consume the rest of the food on his plate. Magnolia stood there for a moment, watching him eat and caught up in her own thoughts. Thoughts about what she was going to do now that he was here, how long he’d be staying with her, how the hell any of this was even possible—she still wasn’t quite sure if she was losing her mind or not.

She then gulped and turned away, moving back to clean the kitchen. They coexisted in silence. Dev scarfed down the rest of the food that was available on the table while Magnolia cleaned the mess she made in the storm of her cooking. She’d then wait until a dish on the table was left barren by Dev, moving to collect it wot give it a nice clean.

It wasn’t long before Dev rose from his seat, gathering off of the empty dishes from the table that were left after Magnolia gathered the others from her hovering. She stepped to take the plates from his grasp with her usually content and joyous expression, only for Dev to hold out his hand.

“I can do it.” He explained, staring down at her. Magnolia looked back up at him, not standing closer to his frame and just now noticing how tall and muscular he really was. She blinked her big eyes up at him. “Okay.” She nodded before moving out of the way. Dev stepped around her, moving to the sink that faced more large windows that this home seemed to be full of.

He cleaned quietly, using the warm dishwater and a coarse sponge to scrub away at crumbs of food left. He could feel her eyes on him still, watching as he worked around the kitchen with no issue. He finished in no time, drying his hands in the cloth next to the stove and then turning to face her. Magnolia was quick to flash him a large smile. “Great! Now we can get going.” She said before moving to her front door, which wasn’t too far from the kitchen, and gathering all she needed. Her sweater, even though she didn’t need one, hung in the coat rack. Her shoes were on the floor next to the door and her keys hung in a hook above all. She glanced over her shoulder at the sound of Dev’s steps behind her.

“Your shoes are there.” She said, pointing to the boots he came in near hers, exceptionally larger.

Dev placed the boots on his feet at the same time as hers, her getting dressed much more hastily than him. She quickly grabbed her bag and a large jacket from another hook. She held the clothing item out to him. “Here, you can wear this if you want. It’s not exactly good out but you might want to cover up, you know? Not that you need to cover up, it’s totally cool if you don’t. But you can just take it just in case.” She rushed out, still holding the jacket. Dev paused, his brows twitching in confusion for only a moment before he took the item from her hands.

“It’s fine. I’ll take it.” He said. He didn’t really know what to say to her rambling but he seemed to just say anything if it got her to calm her verse just a tad. Magnolia gave him a smile before rushing out of the door with everything on her. Dev was close on her heel, only glancing back at the sound of a bell to see Mufasa sitting at the bottom of the steps, watching them leave. He didn’t know why, but he flashed the animal a small smile before closing the door, moving out of the way for Magnolia to lock it.

“Fasa will be fine, he’s smart and crazy. I’ve seen him scare a gator from my backyard once.” She said, catching the small look the man gave the mysterious cat before jumping off her steps and moving over to her blue Ford pickup truck. Not that he had a clue what the hell that even was. Dev stood on the porch, observing what he could. Her porch was sort of cluttered but pretty. Potted plants with pretty flowers hung from the banister of the house, some littering the wooden flora of the porch. To his right was a porch swing filled with books, old books tattered and well-loved. To his right was a rocking chair, tucked into the corner where the taking net the all of the house, guarding whoever sat in it from falling. It looked cozy, with a blanket and two pillows on it, and more flowers surrounded the light wooden chair with intricate engravings on it.

There was space for another chair next to it, closer to the steps of the porch, but it was empty save the small footstool decided to look like a little chair. He could assume it was only for Mufasa.

He couldn’t even observe the rest of the hard and surrounding homes before the sound of the door slamming on the truck startled him, although he didn’t show it. Magnolia had her arms stuck out of her window, her head angled to look at his form on the porch. “You can ogle later, pretty boy! Hop in!” She cheesed, before ducking back into the car and cranking it.

Dev frowned, slowly making his way to the loud machine she inserted herself into, stopping at the door she was directly next to. His face showed a look of almost concern as he gazed into the odd box and glanced around it. Magnolia looked at him in confusion as he stuck his head through the window. She leaned hers back, his face almost colliding with hers.

She let out a small laugh before she placed her hand on the side of his face, pushing his head back out of the window. “What are you doing?”

“What is this?” Dev asked, looking at the colored machine. Magnolia furrowed her brows, a small smile still on her face in amusement as she looked at him, watching as he ran his fingers across the side of the car. It slowly fell once she realized he was speaking of the car. He didn’t know what the car was. She closed her eyes, letting out a small sigh.

She snapped them back open. “Uh, never mind that right now, I’ll explain it on the way over. I want you to go around and get in on that side.” She said. Dev didn’t say anything before moving around the front of the car, Magnolia’s eyes not leaving him once as he made his way to the passenger side. He pulled the door open with no problem before only a tad caustically moving to take a seat. Once the door closed behind him, Magnolia locked the door and pulled out of the driveway.

“Put your seat belt on, please.” She said, glancing k we at him once the vehicle started dinging.

“Seatbelt?” Dev frowned over at her, his big eyes filled with confusion and a little wary at how fast she was riveting for just having pulled out of the driveway. Magnolia pursed her lips at him.

“This is going to be a long day, Sugar.”

@kneelarmhstrung

@winorlosetogether

@joshuafatubaee

@becauseimswagman1

@nubiagurllll

@gwenda-fav

[bring-forth-his-sac]

World of Trouble

Summary: Your Halloween costume leads to a punishment from the man himself...

Pairing: Saviors! Negan x f!reader

Tags: !NSFW! spanking, fingering, p in v penetration, (consensual) punishment sex, Negan being a cocky asshole, orgasm denial, praise kink, teasing, dirty talk, pet names, little bit of cum play ?

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: ok this fic is choppy, janky and just all over the place. I wrote it in a day and a half so it was a complete rush cause I want to get it out for Halloween so yeah, pls be kind

You thought it was funny.

After all, don’t people need a joke in times like this? Isn’t everything bleak enough? That was your reasoning when the idea initially popped into your head for the perfect apocalyptic Halloween costume.

Despite Negan being a man who loves to tell a joke, no matter how risqué or inappropriate the timing, you weren’t sure how Negan would react if he's the butt of one. 

Ever since late August, you had been wavering on the idea. Some nights you were adamant that your choice in Halloween costume would end in you being bound to the fence alongside the dead. 

In the midst of your internal debate, while out on a run, you came across the ultimate sign that set aside your indecision. 

A leather jacket.

It wasn’t an exact replica of Negan’s and it hung loosely on your frame but it was the push you needed. You already had a white t-shirt in your limited closet and you’d pay the few points needed for some black jeans. 

A red scarf was harder to come across but most definitely a necessary piece. Ever since the leaves began to fall off the trees surrounding the Sanctuary, Negan’s red scarf has been making an appearance, tucked neatly in by the collar of his leather jacket.

You had to be inventive, scavenging an old sweater and cutting it up to create a makeshift scarf that at least remotely resembled the original.

And finally, the pièce de résistance. Your trusty companion. Your very own, bootleg Lucille. 

Thankfully barbed wire wasn’t the problem. In the Sanctuary, something like that can be found stored in at least half of the supply closets, hoarded away for the fence or in case the real Lucille needs a quick spruce up.

The real issue was a baseball bat. It wasn’t as if the Saviors were regularly raiding school gyms or stadiums, and so there was hardly any sports equipment for you to choose from.

It was a struggle and eventually, you ended up with a hockey stick that some Savior decided to put into the armoury.

It wasn’t Lucille but hell, it’d have to do.

Everything was ready. You even found some long expired brown eyeshadow and decided to dab some on the bottom of your face so it looks like you have a beard. And so your look was complete, possibly the very first costume to ever exist of your fearsome leader.

And how long did it last?

40 minutes. It didn’t even take a full hour of you strutting around before word got back to Negan. 

When you imagined the impending confrontation, you assumed it would be a lieutenant telling you off as Negan spewed insults over a walkie talkie.

It’s only now, when you hear the low grating noise of Lucille dragging along the ground, growing nearer and nearer, do you realise you won’t be getting off so easily. 

Slowly turning, you bring your hockey stick decorated in barbed wire up to your shoulder, mirroring a pose you’ve seen him do plenty of times.

“Well, ho-ly shit! I don’t know whether I should be smug or freaked the fuck out!” he declares, his gaze wandering down your outfit “you’ve really out done yourself this time, doll”.

You shrug, hoping that if you seem casual about this then he’ll let it slide. “It’s Halloween” you say bluntly, hoping that’s the only excuse you need. 

Some Saviors linger around you both, a mixture of excitement and anticipation radiating from them at your Negan costume and Negan's ambiguous reaction.

“And you thought the creepiest thing you could dress up as is me?” he narrows his eyes at you, subconsciously mimicking your own pose as he lifts Lucille up onto his shoulder. 

You open your mouth to respond but no words come out, a slight sense of dread setting in. A beat of tense silence hangs in the air, thick and charged, as if the whole Sanctuary is holding its breath. 

A deep chuckle cuts through the silence as Negan clasps a hand on your free shoulder. 

“Well, fuck me, I am honored!” he beams “you even smeared some shit on your face so ya look like you got a beard! Now that’s the kind of dedication I like to see from you sorry fucks!”.

He steps away from you, letting his hand drop off of your shoulder as he raises his voice, making sure the others hear.

Relief washes over you. You could feel the tension draining from your muscles at his approval. 

“I love it,” Negan says, his voice growing serious again “but Lucille? Now Lucille here isn’t a big fan of copy cats and that limp dick excuse of a Lucille you got hanging over your shoulder? That shit just makes her see red”.

Any warmth in Negan’s eyes fade. His brows knit together as his mouth becomes a hard line, replacing any sense of humor. “And she thinks this is worthy of a punishment” he adds.

Fuck. 

Negan doesn’t wait around for your reaction, turning on his heels as he barks for you to follow. You do so hesitantly, knowing there’s nowhere to run and that this is something you’ll unfortunately have to face head on.

This isn’t the first time you’ve done something daring while living in the Sanctuary. Although, this is the first time you’ve seen him genuinely annoyed. 

Usually Negan has always appreciated your boldness, especially when most of the Sanctuary’s residents are too scared to even look him in the eye. In the past, you’ve tried to poke and prod at Negan’s authority by complaining about sanitary products costing points or the lack of blankets available to the workers during Winter. 

Grimacing to yourself as you follow behind him, you wonder if you’ve finally taken it too far.

Marching up the flights of stairs to his private quarters, you try to ignore the confused looks of others as two Negan's pass them by. 

Despite knowing you’re in for a world of trouble, a small smirk tugs at your lips, glad to have brought some sense of silly excitement to the Sanctuary.

You try not to show your shock as he brings you to his bedroom, making sure the door is locked behind you. You only take a few steps into the room before you stop and simply loiter there, watching as Negan sets Lucille down by the doorway to the ensuite before going inside. 

“Y’know there are no actual rules about impersonating so I don’t think you have the grounds to punish me” you attempt to defend yourself, setting your fake Lucille against the wall.

“Talking back won’t help your case,” Negan calls out.

You scoff out a laugh as you get distracted by his room. A part of you can’t help but wonder why a man like Negan would want half the things that litter the area: trophies from other people’s past glory, a vase, a houseplant.

“Yeah well, it’s just some fun, it’s—“ suddenly Negan’s there, right next to you with his gloved hand too close for comfort.

He cups your face, squishing your cheeks together as his other hand brings a wet cloth to your face.

“And get that shit off your face,” he does the job for you “my beard ain’t that fuckin’ bad”.

You stay quiet, not wanting the embarrassment of trying to speak with your cheeks squished and a cloth rubbing at your face.

Once he’s satisfied your face is clean, he simply drops the cloth to the floor. Negan looks down at your attire “Well hot damn, good news is my style is incredibly sexy… but no matter how hot you look, thanks to me, you know I can’t let your shit slide anymore, sweetheart”.

You frown, a challenging look in your eyes.

“I’m serious, you’re pissing off too many Saviors with the shit you pull,” he yanks off his scarf, letting it land on the couch “and now, with this, you’ve forced my hand”. 

Next, Negan takes off his leather jacket, inadvertently showing off some tattoos as he delicately places it on the back of his armchair. 

“You know I gotta give you some kinda punishment… but that don’t mean it can’t be enjoyable for the both of us” he continues.

The smirk on his face says it all. 

And just like that, it all makes sense. Of course he would bring you up to his bedroom and not to the cells when this is what he has in mind.

You shrug, some of your spirit returning in the form of a playful smirk “What? You gonna spank me?”.

“You want me to?” He unbuckles his belt and slowly pulls it through the loops of his jeans, the material hissing as it moves. 

Negan has never been a man to bluff.

You try to act nonchalant but you can feel your cheeks heating up. “Maybe,” you play it coy “will you iron off half my face even if I say yes?”.

Now it’s Negan’s turn to shrug. “That depends, this a trick or a treat?” he asks.

Normally you’re not this bold. Maybe leather jackets give people unlimited confidence? That seems to be the only solution as you walk over to his couch and place both hands on the armrest. You bend forward just enough for Negan to see your intent.

You glance back over your shoulder, your eyelids at half mast as you throw him a sultry look. Negan keeps his eyes locked on to yours, his boots heavy on the floorboards as he walks up behind you.

The leather of his glove growls as he places his hand on the centre of your back and pushes you down further. 

There’s no point in ignoring how your pussy throbs as he makes sure your head is against the couch cushions and your ass is up in the air, the armrest providing the perfect support.

“That's what I thought“ Negan praises, his hand slowly making its way down to your ass. 

“And I thought I was getting punished, not a yoga class” you goad.

Negan doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t even wait or let the anticipation of his response build. He goes straight for it, smacking your backside hard enough to leave a handprint. 

A gasp leaves your lips, the sensation more stingy than it is painful. You have little time to prepare yourself as Negan wraps his belt around his hand.

“Just relax, baby,” he instructs softly, his tone in complete contradiction to his actions “and be grateful I’m letting ya keep your jeans on… for now”. 

Despite your thin layer of clothes acting as a barrier, the belt bites into your flesh. The sound of the belt whistles through the air before meeting your ass with a sharp crack. He does it over and over again, alternating between cheeks. 

You hiss at the sudden heat, your body clenching as the pain morphs into a dark, intoxicating pleasure.

“Well, damn!” Negan exclaims approvingly, momentarily stopping “you’re taking this like a trooper, ain’t ya?”. 

He pauses and you wonder if he’s waiting for a response. You swallow, your throat dry from the amount of gasps you’ve let out in such a short span of time. 

But before you can answer, you feel it. Not the belt. Not his hand delivering another slap. This time, it’s him; proud and unabashed as he brings his clothed crotch right against your ass. 

Suddenly, the belt didn’t seem too hard.

“I think it’s about time I see my work of art” he declares, pressing his hips forward to make sure you feel his entrapped boner.

For a man so brutal, Negan’s touch is gentle as his fingers glide around the waistband of your jeans. He lets his touch linger there for a few moments, waiting for your sign of approval. 

You’re well aware of Negan’s ego and how he wants to know just how badly you need him. He yearns to see that raw desire. As much as you want to banter back at him again, your brain fogs with need and you push back against him, your sore ass rubbing against his bulge.

He responses with a grunt as his hands slowly leave your waistband, too distracted to continue. Negan has something else in mind as he gives a slight tug of your hair, gesturing for you to stand upright.

You don’t even have time to turn to face him, your ass still snug against the tent in his pants as he roughly pulls you in for a bruising kiss.

His hand fists your hair, holding you in place as he devours you. Desperately trying to keep up, your breaths come out in short, sharp pants between desperate kisses.

Negan keeps his hand in your hair, using it to manoeuvre you away from his couch and over to the bed. The only time he takes his hands off of you is when the back of your legs hit against the soft bedsheets. 

The second you’re able, you take off your leather jacket, watching Negan follow suit as he begins shedding his clothes.

Your jeans are the worst to take off, the rough denim scratching it’s way across your sensitive backside as you quickly discard it. Once you get to your bra and panties, you stop, wanting Negan to take off the rest.

Negan doesn’t have the same sense of modesty as you, not stopping until he’s completely bare. Sitting back on the bed, you bite your lower lip and shamelessly dart your eyes across his body. 

The dark curls that cover his chest, the tattoos that scatter across his body, the happy trail of body hair that lead you lower, to where he stands erect and proud.

You gulp.

Negan joins you, kneeling on the bed in front of your body as he studies you. With a hum, he shakes his head. “No, this won’t do,” he tuts.

As the words hit you, a wave of self-consciousness washes over you. Whatever excitement that was evident in your face slowly drops away and you do nothing but blink up at him, waiting for Negan to continue.

“Yeah, I’m gonna want to fuck you in the leather jacket,” he elaborates “now that would be hot as all hell and I ain’t letting that jacket go to waste on my bedroom floor”.

You rolls your eyes as you let out a breath. “You fucking asshole” you huff, well aware that Negan was being vague on purpose just to toy with you. 

He chuckles, unable to deny your accusation. “Careful baby, you start insulting me like that and you’ll be getting another spankin” he threatens playfully, though you know he’s being serious. 

Negan leans down, almost hovering over you as his hands gently touch your bra straps. 

“But first, you got more layers to shed” Negan lets each strap fall to your arms before his fingers deftly work the clasp of your bra, the metal giving way easily. 

Without looking where it lands, Negan lets your bra drop to the side. You feel utterly exposed to his hungry gaze, watching as he drinks in the sight of you. 

A groan leaves him as he reaches out, his calloused hands gently cupping the weight of your tits. His thumbs brush over your pert nipples, making your squirm at the contact. 

“You going to play with my titties all day?” You question, hoping to spur him into action.

“It’s a punishment, doll,” he reminds you, bending to the side to pick up your leather jacket “if I decide all I want to do is stare and watch you finger that sweet little pussy till it’s raw, then that’s what’ll happen”.

“And is that what you want?” You ask, trying to maintain any self control you have. Part of you would actually apologize for your costume if it means getting his dick closer to your pussy.

“Nah, I want you to sit back and really think about what you did,” giving the jacket a quick shake, he spreads it out over your shoulder “think you can do that for me, darlin?”.

Making sure the jacket is secure over your shoulders, you adjust it to make sure your tits are still in view. “I guess I could try” you reply in a flirtatious tone, scooting back against the pillows.

“On the bright side, even though this is a punishment, I’m still a fuckin’ gentleman,” he says with a proud grin. 

You're quick to notice how his hands inch up past your thighs and towards your panties. Hooking a finger underneath them, Negan gives a slight tug “So I’m gonna need to loosen you up before I fuck you senseless”.

Narrowing your eyes at him, you gently lift your hips. That cocky smile never leaves his face as Negan slowly drags your panties down your legs. In an instant, they’re gone from view and end up on the floor alongside the rest of your clothes.

Negan’s eyes lock onto your core, unable to help himself as he reaches out and parts your folds.

“Fuck, you’re that wet already?” he says it like a question despite the answer being on his fingertips. You bite your lip as his fingers brush against your wet, swollen flesh. 

With a groan, Negan plunges two fingers into your warmth, scissoring them apart to stretch you out. You moan out, your back arching as he sets a steady pace. 

“Y-yes,” you gasp out when the pad of his thumb finds your clit “keep doing that!”.

Negan curls his fingers upward, targeting your g-spot. The look on his face is like a kid at Christmas, completely elated to have his fingers deep in your pussy.

He adds a third finger, pumping them in and out of you, listening to your moans and gasps to gauge how close you are. Leaning down, Negan meets your arched body and nips at your breasts.

His mouth brushes against your skin as he tuts “C’mon now, don’t tell me you’re about to cum already!”.

You nod frantically, hands clutching at the bedsheets “Yeah, yeah I’m ready, I’m gonna—“.

Negan chuckles darkly and before you can reach your high, his fingers slow their pace.

“Oh, I don't know about that," he pulls his fingers out abruptly and gives your clit a light tap with them "you haven't earned that privilege yet, baby". 

Your mind is in a haze as he licks his fingers clean, tasting you. It takes a few moments for your brain to compute what he’s denying you. 

“I…” you begin but you trail off, your throbbing pussy begging for release “Negan, please, I— I get it, ok?”.

His smile softens slightly and if anything, it only makes you more wet. “I know you get it now,” he agrees, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek “maybe, sweetheart, just maybe… if you beg nice enough, I'll let you cum on my cock instead”.

You take his words as a challenge. Throwing out all sense of pride, you babble on “Please! Y-yeah I just, I need you inside of me, please Negan, I’ll be good”.

Every word goes straight to his dick. 

Negan takes a moment to truly savour the sight of you begging and writhing under him, knowing this is some top notch jerking material he can use at a later date. 

"Now that’s what I like to hear" he praises, positioning himself between your thighs. He grips your hips and thrusts into you in one smooth motion, filling you completely.  

Even though the sudden stretch and fullness makes you feel breathless, you practically shout out “Negan!". 

He pauses but only for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size. “Shhhhhhh,” he coos, his tone bordering on patronising “best be quiet before you wake up the wives, I’d hate to make those gals jealous”.

With a low groan, Negan begins to move, pulling back almost to the point of withdrawal before slamming into you once more. The leather jacket beneath you squeaks, each thrust pushing you further up the bed.

You can feel every inch of him, the primal yearning to cum on his cock sounding more and more appealing. Negan’s chest heaves as he labors over you, his body glistening as he works up a fine sheen of sweat. 

He doesn’t know where to look. His eyes dart everywhere, trying to take in each part of your body. Negan watches your face, the desperation to cum etched into each expression. Of course he watches your tits too, seeing them jiggle with each thrust he gives you. 

But his favourite part to watch is how well you‘re taking him. To see how your pussy welcomes each inch, letting him go flush against you every single time.

Bringing his gaze back up to your eyes, he pistons into you. “You’re close, I can feel it” he says with a clenched jaw, trying to hold off. 

“Please!” is the first word out your mouth followed quickly by a gasp as Negan goes for your clit again. His thumb rubs firm circles around the sensitive nub, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you.

You inner walls clench desperately around his cock and before you know it, everything crashes around you as you finally cum.

It’s as if your whole world blurs together and all you can focus on is his cock deep inside of you. 

Your pussy spasms violently around him, your vision whiting out as you moan loudly. Negan wants nothing more than to feel your sweet pussy throb around him but he knows he can’t hold off any longer. 

He quickly pulls out and thrusts into his hand to finish. His cock glistens with your juices before Negan unloads a thick load right onto your tits. 

You both pant, taking a brief moment to come down from your respective highs.

“Look at those beautiful titties,” Negan breaks the silence, admiring his handiwork “just when I thought they couldn’t look any better”.

Gently bringing a hand up, you run your finger along one of the lines he’s painted. “If I knew this is what the punishment would be, I would’ve pissed you off a lot sooner” you say breathlessly.

Negan hums as he flops down beside you, his eyes glued to how your fingertips play with his load. 

“Maybe you should’ve,” he replies “or maybe this is a sign that we should have some fun like this more often”.

You bite back your smile “Maybe it’s both?”.

“But y’know I can’t really just be going around screwing anybody and everybody,” he continues, making you pause, unsure where this is going “it’s bad for the image, y’know?”.

Your expression doesn’t change.

Negan takes in your confused look, trying to put the pieces together for you. “I mean, I don’t think the wives would appreciate me screwing around… unless, of course, I was screwing around with another wife…”.

“Oh”.

That’s all you feel as though you can say. A part of you immediately tries to rationalise this, trying to convince yourself that you’ve got the wrong end of the stick here. 

“Goddamn, did I really fuck you that hard?” Negan laughs “I’m asking you to marry me, baby, you should be jumping for joy right now!”.

You sigh, bringing your non-sticky hand up to your face “Negan…”.

“Negan, yes?”.

“Negan, I’m covered in your jizz and you’re seriously asking me this?! Now?!?” You exclaim. 

He stops for a moment, taking in your words. “Huh, ok, good point,” Negan grunts as he gets up, giving you a great view of his ass “I’ll go get some towels and you think about it, yeah?”.

Before you have time to reply, he’s walking into his ensuite “And I want an answer when I come back!”. He disappears into the adjoined room, turning on the light.

You lay back, allowing the pillows to practically consume you. The thought passes through your mind if only for a split second.

It wouldn’t be that bad to be yet another wife, would it? All you’d have to do is look pretty and have good sex… and never socialise with anyone else… and only be seen as one of his wives and nothing more.

You close your eyes, hoping that would prolong the impending decision.

Letting out a long sigh, you curse “Fuck”.

[vyxated]

if anyone is wondering why loading screens seem to break and show the grey llama image instead of the plumbob, it's because they changed the instance number of one of the plumbob image assets from 6aec0ad1d1ed59c2 to 6aec09d1d1ed580a.

yeah, a simple change in the instance number is all you need to make a UI mod break, among a couple of other things 🥰 this happens if your loading screen mod only includes the ScaleFormGFX file (where you change the background) and doesn't include the plumbob image assets that has the old instance #.

how it works:

Mod includes an old GFX file and its associated image asset(s) w/ the old instance # -> UI doesn't break, game reverts to the old loading screen as a result. (Think of TMEX's Clean UI that keeps the old main menu design.)

Mod includes only the old GFX file, while the image asset w/ new instance # comes from the game files' itself -> UI breaks, there's now a disconnect between the old GFX file and the new image asset.

(more details on why/how ui mods break the way they do at some other time)

so in theory, if you are to import all of the older plumbob image assets (before 22 Oct update) into your loading screen mod and keep the old instance numbers as they were, your loading screen will "fix" itself because the GFX file in your mod can now find the image asset that it was tied to, or as stated on the 2nd point above, revert to an old version of the loading screen.

(plumbob looks janky because I didn't use the old image assets and used the new ones instead)

anyway. off I go to update my ui mods and come back in a few days 🫠

[minus-plus-zer0]

Stuck Inside From the Rain

♡ Genre: Fluff ♡ Pairing: Bakugou x Reader ♡ Tags: Aged up (This was supposed to be short u-u)

You couldn't go home, not in this weather.

You had only planned to drop off a video game you borrowed from Bakugou, but the rain had hit so suddenly that there was no way you were going anywhere now.

What's worse, it was getting pretty dark out. At least Bakugou had a nice couch to sleep on...

"Oi!" Bakugou called out from the kitchen. "Dinner's ready!"

Bakugou had fetched some extra ingredients so he could make food for the both of you. You both sat down at his dinner table, with your grilled chicken and peppers in front of you.

"Thank you so, so much for doing this, bestie!" you said. "I think this is the first time we've eaten together in your new home."

"That's not my fault. I invited you over last week. But you were busy with Kirishima..."

You scoffed at how he chewed his food angrily. "He's just a friend, Bakugou. I actually totally forgot about that until now. Are you jealous?"

"Why would I be jealous of some guy with shitty hair?! He's got nothing on me!"

"Then don't bring him up?"

"Don't go blowing me off for Kirishima and then I won't bring him up! How about that?"

"I'll be sure to give you all the attention you want this time, okay?"

Bakugou looked frustrated, but a bit pleased. "You better."

True to your words, you ranted and raved to Bakugou about the food, as always. Bakugou knew that if there was one way to get you to focus on him, it was through his cooking. He looked cocky as you basically monologued to him about your 5-star Yelp review of his food. He offered you the rest to take home as leftovers, because unlike that traitorous rat Kirishima, he found himself to be a considerate and compassionate soul who would never let you starve.

You wanted to help with the dishes, but Bakugou wouldn't let you lift a finger to do chores. The guy was treating you like a guest he personally invited, but you felt a little bit like a burden who invaded his evening out of nowhere (even though you knew he wanted you here).

The night grew colder as it went on, and you could tell even Bakugou was starting to get affected. You attached yourself to his side to warm him up, holding onto him because you knew he hated the cold. He let himself get a little lost in that moment, which was easy to do since nobody was here except for you.

"You're such a koala," he said. "How long are you gonna steal my arm for?"

"Bakugou, if you keep complaining I'm gonna let go."

"Fine, fine! Just walk a little faster with me, I need to get something from the living room."

Bakugou wanted to watch a movie with you, but first he fetched an extra blanket, hoping to drape it over the two of you while you sat on the couch.

"You didn't get your own blanket?" you asked.

"This was all I had! Don't hog the stuff, alright?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be a burden. I'm just cold..."

"You're not a burden. Just get over here so we can share it. Properly."

He drags the blanket around both of your shoulders, bringing you two hip-to-hip.

"It's like we're kids again, huh?" you laughed. "If you had extra pillows, I would've made us a pillow fort."

"I'm too big for that and you know it. It'd just fall over."

"You're no fun. Did anyone ever tell you that you act like such a grandpa?"

"You've probably told me that at least 5 times now, yeah."

You two watched a movie together, some old action flick from long ago. You rested your head on Bakugou's shoulder, and over time he ended up curling one of his arms around you. You're engrossed in the movie, you thought it wouldn't be your style but the movements are mesmerizing! However, Bakugou's glancing over at you repeatedly, gauging your reaction.

As the movie continued, the night grows even colder, and you're retreating into Bakugou's chest for any semblance of warmth. It's easy to do since his Quirk keeps his body working like an oven. Bakugou's tensing up now, stiff and janky in his movements.

You yawned for the 15th time this hour. "Bakugou... I'm sleeeeepy..."

Your heart rate slowed and your eyes felt heavy, and you almost dozed off to sleep with the sound of the rain rushing down outside. Bakugou looked distressed, knowing that you two might fall asleep together for the first time. But you didn't want him distressed, you wanted him happy, because he was your Bakugou, even if it wasn't official yet...

In your sleepy state, you gave him a tiny kiss him on the cheek and then curled up to sleep against him. You heard him swearing up a storm under his breath, and he really went through the entire curse word dictionary as if you couldn't hear him at all.

Then, he kissed you on the forehead right back.

"Night, dummy," he said, his voice very quiet.

[emeritusemeritus]

Hi love! If it's not too much to ask, could you maybe do a Fred fic with a bit of an insecure reader? As in, she hears some people say nasty things about her (mainly about appearance like weight) and her relationship with Fred, and she distances herself from him until one day she really can't handle staying away from him anymore? Sweet sweet fluff with a bit of making out by the end, maybe?

Hi Anon, I’m sorry this took so long! I tried to write it as if it was an insecure monologue, a little jumpy and janky like how the reader’s thought process would be. I hope you like it! 🖤

Warnings: Insecure reader, self-deprecating thoughts, bullying, verbal abuse, taunting, talks of breakups, appearance and other issues, negative mentions of weight. Kissing, implied sexual references. Happy ending I promise!

Word count: 2.7k

Fire and Ice

It wasn't easy being Fred Weasley's girlfriend.

Being with Fred, falling in love with him- that part was easy; but having such an extroverted, popular joker for a boyfriend was at times, not so easy.

You were quieter by nature, a little more introverted and a lot more insecure than Fred but you seemed to balance each other out well most of the time, ying and yang, fire and ice. Fred was always quick to silence your hateful internal monologue whenever it presented itself, reminding you that you were beautiful, important, loved- all the things he wanted you to feel, the way that he saw you. But sometimes the insecurities were too much, the voices in your head too loud that you began to believe them again.

Fred had been busy, the tri-wizard tournament had been announced and him and George were trying everything they could to work around the age restriction but upon the application. They’d been virtually locked in their dorm for days researching different ideas and brewing potions that would age them up, though you doubted it would work, they always surprised you in the end.

Their reclusion could not have come at a worse time for you, though of course you would never mention anything. You’d been stood in front of Fred when the students had gathered to watch the regal, horse-drawn carriage fly over the tips of the trees in the forbidden forest and across the Great Lake led by the majestic white winged horses that made it look effortless and well, magical. You’d stood with pure excitement as you watched the magnificent ship emerge from underneath the water and sail towards the bank until you’d all be called away for the feast.

Your excitement had dwindled almost immediately when the girls of Beauxbatons glided through the door in a whimsical and captivating display, grabbing everyone’s attention for their beauty and elegance- including Fred. You’d seen Ron look flabbergasted, a fresh pink hue on his cheeks as he looked upon the girls with mouth agape and a glazed look in his eye and couldn’t help but avert your eyes slightly to see Fred looking at them in a much tamer way, but seeing his eyes fixed upon them nontheless. It pulled at every single one of your heartstrings, that familiar sinking feeling in your gut instantly making you nauseated by the food in front of you.

Their uniforms were delicate and beautiful, tailored perfectly of the finest satin in such a rich colour that it was both feminine and powerful all in one. You couldn’t help but look away from Fred, from anything and began to pick at the edge of your frumpy school cardigan, suddenly disgusted by its mere existence.

When Dumbledore announced the entrance of Durmstrang, you didn’t even look up, already too consumed by your own self-deprecating thoughts. The uniform you’d once been so proud to wear now felt like a potato sack in comparison, shapeless and bland from head to toe. You suddenly wanted to get away, to do anything you could to get out of the shapeless mess and to prove to yourself and to others around you that you weren’t just a blob of blended wool and scruffy hair that had been haphazardly thrown into a high pony ahead of your long day of travelling back to school. But there was nothing you could do, forced to sit there in a mass of unflattering garments next to your boyfriend who had been looking at much more attractive females and pretend to be fine. Thankfully the arrival of professor Moody was enough to prompt serious discussion around you and you could blend into the background without notice, eating only tiny bits and slipping away before the end of the meal.

It continued for days, the stab in your side whenever you’d see the Beauxbatons girls in their pretty uniforms looking so sweet and dainty, often followed around by drooling boys that quivered with their every move. You were jealous, but you wouldn’t admit it, choosing instead to be disgusted by it all and very much wanting it all to be over and for them to be gone. You couldn’t forget the expression on Fred’s face when they made their grand entrance and the pain that it brought when you did remember. You’d never doubted his love for you, not really, though of course you doubted why he chose you in the first place- did he now regret that decision?

It had been days since you’d seen him and the messages he’d initially sent through Lee had dwindled to none, meaning that you were so out of communication that you felt that stinging dread all over again- was he preparing to break up? Had he found someone else? Someone undoubtedly prettier in a powder blue satin uniform?

So when you finally caught sight of that gorgeous red head in the hallway, you lit up, excited to finally get the chance to talk to him. You heard his laugh and smiled to yourself, feeling relieved already- until you noticed he was laughing with one of them. She was pretty, brown hair tucked perfectly into her blue hat and her satin cape bellowing perfectly around her.

Something inside you felt out of place all of a sudden, enraged by the injustice and the inevitable ending to your relationship. You were angry at everything, most notably Fred, the Beauxbatons, the whole stupid competition. It left a sour taste in your mouth and you realised that if Fred wanted out, he could have one of the stupid French girls.

You were sat in the great hall with Hermione quietly reading when you heard a group of people moving excitedly towards the cup which broke your concentration. You watched as Cedric Diggory placed his name in the cup and his friends cheered for him, smacking him on the back in a hearty well done when he suddenly stopped upon making eye contact with you and sent you a little smile of recognition. You smiled back with a little head nod and watched as his friends dragged him away, leaving the room in relative peace once again.

That was until Fred and George came barrelling into the room, their distinctive blend of voices crying out and echoing through the hall as they high five students across the benches, proudly clutching hold of something in their hands, professing that ‘they’d done it’.

You could barely look at them, for the first time not caring in the slightest about what they had created.

“It’s not going to work,” Hermione says from beside you and immediately you are met with their bodies either side of Hermione. You feel Fred’s hand on your shoulder, a little touch that should have given you hope but actually felt repulsive to you. You didn’t even look up from your page, nor acknowledge their arrival and if Fred noticed, he didn’t say anything- though you could feel his eyes in you. The second the Triwizard cup fought back against their tricks, propelling them into the air and forcing them back into the ground with a definitive thud, you were gone. You walked back towards the common room without so much as a glance, not caring to find out the predicted result of their attempt.

“I would just die if I had to wear their uniforms!” You heard from around the corner in a thick French accent that had you rolling your eyes. The stupid little French cackles reached your ears and it was all that you could do not to petrify them on the spot as you attempted to walk straight past them.

“Oh” one of them said, spotting you emerging from around the corner. Another small fit of laughter that was hardly concealed, upon seeing someone in the exact uniform they were mocking.

“Does it feel as frumpy as it looks?” Another one said, her accent almost indecipherable. You shot daggers at the group of four witches and tried to get past but they blocked you in.

“You’re with the tall redhead yes? I’ve seen you,” the blonde one says, making your stomach lurch at her mention of Fred. “He’s cute.”

You don’t retaliate, though you can think of many choice words you wish to say to her, presuming you didn’t reach for your wand first. Their words cut into you like a knife, though you try to block out the harsher things they say about your appearance, your weight, your ugly uniform. Only when they bright up Fred again do your barricades fall, their words tearing you apart.

“It’s funny actually, that he chose you. You look more of a girl he’d want to be friends with, definitely not one to be in love with.”

The final nail in the coffin for you was the round of laughter that echoed throughout the corridor, following you in your mind straight back to the common room until the second you passed out that night, still sobbing into your pillow.

The next morning, your eyes were virtually swollen shut from all the tears shed the night before. You felt retched, all of your fears coming true as the beautiful girls laughed at you, hitting every one of your insecurities. They may as well have called you fat, ugly, all the other things you knew about yourself but never said out loud.

You didn’t go to classes that day, never even attempting to step foot out of the dormitory or even your bed until you were certain everyone had left. You looked an ungodly mess with red puffy eyes and a mass of tangled hair that felt like a limp weight on top of your head. The tears started again within seconds of reaching the bathroom mirror, silently falling down your cheeks and landing in little droplets into the sink. You sobbed for your sorry appearance, for the loss of Fred and for the unfairness in life. Why couldn’t you just be pretty?

You eventually crawled back into bed, not even bothering to sort out the disastrous mess upon your head and forced yourself to go back to sleep, pushing all thoughts of him and them out of your head.

Three days you’d been confined to your bedroom, feigning a migraine that had managed to convince even Mcgonagall and Hermione. Ginny had tried to relay multiple messages from Fred, both verbally and in writing but you’d feigned a worsening headache, nausea and other ailments and asked her politely but definitively to leave, rendering the message unheard. You’d heard all about Harry’s selection from Hermione and how he and Ron were fighting but you’d barely listened to any of it, too consumed by your own issues.

The fourth day, you made it out of bed only to remember that it was a Saturday. You considered slipping back into bed and ignoring the sun completely but your bladder disagreed with your plan vehemently. You wandered to the bathroom and for the first time in days, looked in the mirror.

You looked so sad, so broken that it made your heart constrict a little, seeing a sad little girl staring back at you. You look younger somehow, like a first year all over again. Memories flash beneath your eyes, memories of meeting Fred for the first time, of being young and falling in love, of being the girl that he fell in love with.

Ignoring the vague rumbling of your food deprived stomach, you rush into the showers and attempt to untangle your hair using every product you can find. You shave, condition, lotion up your entire body and make a start on magically fixing your puffy face. You’re on a mission to look your best, to show those petty and judgemental bitches that you were just as worthy as them and more importantly, that you were definitely someone that Fred would- and did- love.

You dried your hair and curled it using a spell you’d found in an old teen magazine that worked surprisingly well and stood back to look at the result, feeling pleased. You looked like yourself again but better, happier.

You dressed in a nicer than usual outfit that was still casual but actually highlighted your curves rather than hiding them, something you knew that Fred liked after years of compliments on your curves. You momentarily considered grabbing a cardigan incase your confidence weakened but thought against it, instead grabbing a jumper than you’d stolen from Fred a year ago. You felt feminine and pretty for the first time in ages and actually smiled when you look in the mirror one last time.

“Well don’t you look nice,” Ginny said as you stepped out of the bathroom, closing the door from where she had walked back into the dorm, realising that everyone else was now awake. “Feeling better?”

“Much,” you replied honestly, smiling and nodding a little.Want to get breakfast?”

“I was going to have a shower, Fred’s down there though, he’ll go with you I bet,” Ginny says, grabbing a towel and her bathing stuff. You pursed your lips, not letting the glow fade as you nodded at her, butterflies starting to flutter about in your belly.

Walking down to the common room, your nerves were already starting to build as you scanned the room with your eyes, searching for the one person you hoped to see. The guilt of hiding from him, of pushing away was eating you up and you wanted nothing more than to just make it right. You spot George and Lee in one of the corners, Harry and Hermione on one of the sofas and a few more people dotted around but no Fred.

“Blimey,” you heard to your left but instead of seeing the boy you’d hoped to find, instead you found Ron. His mouth was slightly parted and he was looking at you with an expression he’d never looked at you with before, focusing uncomfortably on a piece of your chest never wished to have his eyes.

You flinched as you watched Ron get smacked in the back of the head unexpectedly, making him wince and rub his head but you didn’t see anymore after his initial reaction, instead focusing your attention on his assailant. Fred.

“Look at my girl like that again and I’ll transfigure every piece of furniture in your room into a spider,” he says gruffly as he walks past Ron, keeping his eyes on you and moves to stand directly in front of you, reaching for your hand.

“Are you feeling better?” He says carefully, eyeing you with slight trepidation, making you frown.

“Much better,” you reply carefully, watching his reaction.

“Good, then I won’t feel guilty for this,” he says, pulling you forcibly by the hand until you bump into his chest, his lips finding yours almost immediately as he kisses you with a fiery passion.

“You look so hot,” he mumbles against your lips, hands finding your synched waist and bordering on inappropriately low as one hand tucks into your back pocket. You kiss back with just as much passion, happy that all the doubts and the insecurity had been wiped away, though you still felt guilty for pushing him away. “You’re never hiding from me again.”

He begins to tug at your side and you realise he’s pulling you away, towards the stairs to the dorms.

“But Freddie, breakfast,” you weakly protest.

“Can wait,” he mumbles, the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips as he barely parts from you, only enough to push you up the stairs towards his empty dorm, giving you a teasing smack on the ass as you ascend, for good luck. You never doubted his love for you again, especially not for the next hour.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

No Sugar Tonight 2

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

Character: Brock Rumlow

Summary: A regular customer becomes more than just a familiar face.

*sorry for misnumbering

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

The man catches you by surprise as he appears. You’re busy scraping out the bottom of the toaster as he stands silently at the counter. You smile over at him and call out for him to bear with you for a moment. You’re not sure how you didn’t hear him, even as you tried to chip away at the burnt crumbs. Xander never cleans it. 

“Hi, sir, sorry.” You dry off your hands as you approach. “Black coffee.” 

You punch in his order and he waits patiently to tap his smartwatch on the machine. He doesn’t say a word as you pour him a cup. It’s typical but unsettling nonetheless. 

“Oh, er, I think... I think last time there was a mix-up.” You say as you put his cup on the counter. He ignores you and goes to grab a sleeve and a lid. You follow as you dig around in your apron pocket. “Uh, sir, I think you gave me the wrong tip.” 

You bring the folded bill out of your pocket and hold it out. He doesn’t even look at it. Instead, his dark eyes bore into you. Oh. That’s scary. 

“No. I didn’t.” 

That’s it. He’s already halfway around before you can process his words. His tone hangs in the air and lingers even as the door opens and closes across the atrium. You rescind your arm and open up the bill. 

It’s a lot of money. You could use it but it just feels so wrong. You can’t help but feel indebted. Maybe because you’re used to bending over backwards for each cent. You’ll be smart. Put it away for an emergency. Those always seem to find you at the worst moment. 

Your shift comes to an end as the city skyline softens beneath the amber glow of sunrise. Dayani takes the keys and sends you off. You’re tempted to grab a coffee to go before you leave but you can’t. You need sleep. 

You come out onto the street and take your usual route. You cut behind the corner shop and around the short alleyway. As you come out on the other side, a shadow appears, as if splitting from the brick, and falls into step beside you. 

You stumble and glance over at the stranger. It’s that man. The one who always wears black and orders the same shade of coffee. 

“I don’t make mistakes,” he says. 

You’re too addled to respond. How did he find you? How did he know you’d come this way? 

You stop but only for a moment as he grabs your arm and lurches you forward. You whimper and struggle to keep in stride. His grip is tight and his fingertips jab painfully. 

“Sir? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to--” 

“You shouldn’t take shortcuts,” he reprimands, eyes set ahead of him as he drags you down your usual path. “It’s dangerous.” 

“Oh, ouch, sorry. I—what's happening?” You squeak as confusion muddles your thoughts. 

“Anyone could sneak up on you.” He doesn’t falter. You can hardly keep your feet moving as your adrenaline floods through your veins and narrows your vision. You glance around helplessly but the few bodies on the street don’t spare you a single look. 

“I’m sorry. Again. But—ow. Do you want your money back?” You try to shrug him off as he turns down your street. 

He’s silent as he marches on. He stops you in front of your building and angles you to face it. He keeps a hold of you. 

“Should be in this building. Locks janky. Any asshole can climb the fire escape.” He points along the side. “Or carry in an empty pizza box behind the elderly old lady who’s too helpful for her own good.” 

You wince and hold the air in your chest. “Sir?” 

“Night shift. Alone. That’s third. Stupid,” he snarls. 

“Sir, I—I have roommates and... and there’s cameras.” 

“And assholes wear masks or don’t give a shit,” he growls. 

You whine as he squeezes and you touch his hand. “Ow, please, you’re hurting me.” 

He shifts and looks down at his hand. He gives one last squeeze and releases you. He drops his arm straight and faces you. 

“Lots of men out there would hurt you worse.” 

You shake your head at him. You don’t understand. You’re not stupid. You’ve lived in the city long enough. 

“You leave just before eleven. At least you have the sense to stay in streetlights then. But you keep your head down and don’t look where you’re going,” he rebukes. “You don’t see your own shadow or the second one making sure no one else notices you.” 

You pout and flutter your lashes. The fear slowly rises up from your stomach to your chest until you’re choked dumb. His mouth slants. 

“You should use that money for a can of mace. Maybe a taser.” He squares his shoulders and looks you up and down. “Or maybe I’ll just keep my eye on you.” 

You flounder, lips twitching, and he puts his back to you. He stalks off without another word or another look. You watch him until he’s only a speck in the cityscape. 

What the heck was that? 

[soldateins]

Healing Touch

Lady Alcina Dimitrescu x Reader Oneshot (Hurt/Comfort)

Words: 1,355

Warnings: Injuries, blood, drinking blood (Alcina does), not too crazy just RE Village shenanigans

Notes: This fanfic is a request for the lovely @et-is-an-alien - I hope you love it!! It’s my first ever time writing for Lady D and for a request so I’m super nervous! But this was so fun :D (I'm also still learning about formatting my writing on tumblr so lmk any tips bc it's a bit janky!!)

Summary: You get attacked by that imbecile Heisenberg's lycans while out in the village. You make your way back to Castle Dimitrescu, desperately seeking healing from your sweet Lady.

Searing pain stung throughout different points of your body as you ran across the bridge and through the vineyard towards the castle entrance. Your panicked breaths melted into the whistling cold wind and the distant barks of lycans at your back. Slamming your hands and body against the large door, you pushed it open with the last of your strength and entered the hall of the castle. You pulled the door shut, the icy air whipping your hair around your face and it sticking to the blood spread over your features.

             With a desperate huff, you hauled your weakening body through the hallways and into the main hall. You fell onto the last step of the staircase with a cry and finally inspected the damage the lycans had done. Bites of all depths were scattered over your person, the most severe being at the join of your neck and shoulder. Your ribcage had also caught the tail end of the swings of a machete a few times, leaving behind a collection of claw-like cuts and making it hard to breathe deeply.

             You gasped and swallowed as you ripped up some of your shirt and pressed it into your ribcage, “Ah, fuck- fucking dogs. Fucking Heisenberg.” Your words echoed through the main hall and a faint buzzing floated through from the hallway. A cloud of flies flew around your head and over your body before transforming into Daniela at your side. She immediately scanned your injuries and hissed.

“Mother! Mother, come at once!” Daniela shouted, kneeling next to you and taking over pressing into your wounds.

             “Daniela? What is it, daughter?” Alcina’s voice rang from the top landing as her heavy steps made their way towards the staircase.

             “It’s Y/n, come quickly! Something has happened!”

You groaned and lolled your head back in agony as Daniela dipped her fingers into your neck wound and licked the blood from her hand, “Lycans,” she spat. Alcina’s steps grew quicker, and you heard her shriek as your eyes grew fuzzy, “By Mother’s Grace!”

“Alcina, my heart,” You exhaled, feebly grabbing at her ankle as she came around to your front. “Hush, dear, save your energy – Daniela,” she ushered her daughter away from you and you felt her arms wrap around your body, “Bring alcohol, gauze, all of it.” Alcina lifted you to her chest, “Come, my darling, I shall sort you.” She began to march towards the bed chamber. You softly caressed her necklace as she walked, rolling the pearls between your fingers lazily, “Mm, my love,” you hummed, jolting slightly and letting out a cry of pain when Alcina pushed the door to the bedchamber open with one of her knees.

She placed you on the large bed, and you bounced into the mattress with a whine.

“I am sorry, my dear, but time is of the essence – Daniela!” Alcina roared toward the open door and Daniela’s voice echoed through the halls, “Yes, mother!” Daniela ran through the doorway, bundles and bottles piled up and pressed to her chest. “Thank you, my daughter. Now, leave us.” Alcina ordered softly and Daniela nodded,

“Yes, mother.” And left the room, shutting the door behind her.

You watched Alcina pull at your clothes and her face contorted between anger and fear as she pried soaked pieces of clothing from your wounds, “Daniela said this is the work of lycans?” Her golden eyes caught yours for a moment before she conjured her claws and carefully cut your trousers and shirt from your body piece by piece, leaving you mostly bare. You nodded, “Yes, Heisenberg’s lot. They’re still—” You took in a long, strangled breath as Alcina wiped an alcohol-soaked cloth across the cuts on your ribcage, “wreaking havoc in the village, killing- killing and eating villagers and livestock. Ah! Alcina—” You groaned and writhed.

 “You need to stay still, my darling,” she held you with one hand and cleaned your wounds with the other, “That bastard, Heisenberg. I will strip him of his skin and feed him to his own dogs.” She snarled. After dressing your ribcage and cleaning the sporadic surface-level bites around your limbs, Alcina leaned in closely to inspect the group of bites between your shoulder and neck, “Nasty work, indeed.” Her nose scrunched up in distaste for the lycans, “Just like their father.”

“Alcina,” You rolled your eyes and gripped her thigh, “for the love of—”

“Yes, yes, I’ll hush.”

She dragged two of her fingers through the wounds, eliciting a pained mewl from your throat, and brought them to her mouth to lick, “Turning stale and unsurprisingly filthy,” she smacked her lips, examining the flavour, “I need to remove the dirty blood. Up,” She brought her hands to your sides and sat you up, leaning you forward against her chest and shoulder. You grunted as her warm mouth enveloped a section of the bites, “Fuck, fuck.” You hissed, her warm saliva mixing into your blood and stinging. Her teeth burrowed into your muscle slightly and she began suckling at your wounds. Pained huffs and gasps escaped you, and you grabbed handfuls of her dress at her waist as the dull and familiar ache of her feeding streamed through your shoulder and down your arm.

After a few seconds, Alcina broke away from your neck with puffed cheeks full of blood, and she leaned away towards the bedside table. You rested your head into the crook of her neck, listening to the dragging of a metal bowl and her spitting multiple times into it before putting the bowl back down and turning back to you.

“How absolutely putrid, very unlike your usual delicious bouquet.” She purred and you let out a drowsy chuckle. Alcina gently pushed your head back and returned her mouth to your throat. A soft moan crept through you and you felt your breaths shortening as she cradled you in her arms. Alcina chuckled, the sound vibrating against your muscles before she pulled away and spat into the bowl again. She faced you, golden eyes shining in the dim light of the hearth and licking her lips, “You’re still feeling well enough for pleasure, it seems.” Her mouth, wet with your blood, curved into a smirk.

“Always well enough for pleasure with you, my heart,” your voice turned to a whisper as the edges of your vision became darker and your grip on her waist weakened. 

“Sadly, it will have to wait - your blood is clean but you are in dire need of rest.” She wrapped your numbing shoulder and neck in bandages before cupping your face with one hand and holding your waist with the other, sighing quietly with relief. A sleepy smile danced along your lips as you brought your hand to her cheek and stroked over her lips with your thumb,

“Having my own personal nurse is nice, especially one so delicious,” you said hoarsely and Alcina raised her eyebrows with a chortle, 

“Don’t make it a habit, dear,” she brought you closer, tapping her nose against yours, “Although, you would make an exquisite cabernet.” Alcina pressed her lips to yours with a hum. You laughed into the kiss, a sting of pain surging through your chest as you breathed in deeply, turning the laugh into a shuddering moan and briefly darkening your vision. Alcina pulled back, looking into your eyes, “My love?” She whispered.

“Ah–” You gasped, “It’s my ribs, it’s okay, ah, I’m okay,” You winced as she gently laid you back in the bed and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. Alcina rose from the bed and wiped her mouth with a cloth, throwing it into the blood-filled bowl on the bedside table before making her way around the bed. She laid back on the plush pillows and gently pulled you into her arms, resting your head against her chest.

“Sleep, my dear. And when you wake I will have Bela bring Heisenberg’s head on a platter.” Her long fingers stroked your side, avoiding your injuries as they went.

“Mhm,” You hummed in agreement, dropping into a sweet slumber to the rhythms of Alcina’s body below you.

[valarioncy]

I finally finished the trio, a year after I started making them. Life was big time hectic. Finally felt motivated, finished the Mira turnaround. It's janky, but... they're all quirky in their own unique ways. Mira's biggest issue is she needs an extra tween frame!

[hplonesomeart]

HEYYY GUYS quickly hopping back on here, messily taping/supergluing my art onto the blog, and then promptly skedaddling right afterwards because OH BOY I need to focus this week and lock into my animation MAP part. The time crunch has gotten real!! AUUUUU!! But I had to get this image out of my system before anything else so here ya go enjoy some solitary confinement Puzzle appreciation. I’m sorry that it’s rushed!! Maybe once I finish this MAP I’ll return and make it less janky (specifically for the animated gif here because OOF that looks rough buddy. But it’s the best I can afford to do without getting totally side tracked on my goals. It looks real lazy and is low-key triggering me but I’m letting it slide—sir is mocking my perfectionism right now. Gotta focus all that energy onto the MAP instead).

Yea okay that’s all folks byeeee

Okayyyy so apparently not only is the animated gif janky in motion but also kinda broken?? It’s supposed to loop but that’s not working on Tumblr so guess the entire thing needs to be redone when I have spare time :P

I’ve decided to include a compressed version so you can at LEAST see what I was trying to achieve jksjsksp help this is a mess right now

[thewebcomicsreview]

I'm hardly the first person to notice this, but good god webcomics are the least time-efficient possible way of telling a story, aren't they?

I've been trying to figure out a better method of telling a story so that I could finish it before I die of old age (or, perhaps more relevantly, before everyone loses interest). It seems like no one really wants to read prose on the internet, but also people don't really like a comic that takes a year to go anywhere.

The main bottleneck is dialogue. You can only get 2-3 lines in a standard comic panel, so even a short conversation of character texture can take several pages. It makes me wonder if the Single Panel With Text Beneath It style (like ForEach) isn't just the Objectively Correct™ way to tell a comic on the internet. It's very efficient on the art, you can include narration if that's your jam, and it's very easy to make it work on mobile. (Also the art being separate is a boon if you want to make marketing materials). But everyone will correctly call you a Homestuck rip off.

Though the other thing Homestuck did was make these sprites of the characters that could be used to crank out a bunch of panels for scenes where nothing visually interesting was happening. You don't really see that copied as much

Not openly, anyway. There's a stigma. I've thought about rebooting Legend of the Hare as a visual novel, where that kind of thing is arbitrarily more accepted, but it does start raising the question of why you're bothering with the visuals at all. I don't think the kind of person who makes webcomics is usually looking for an excuse to get out of drawing, even if it lets them increase their page output dramatically. Making sprites that don't look like absolute ass is also really hard. Homestuck sprites have a really specific janky charm to them that I've never really seen any other comic pull off.

And, yeah, you could always just use a simpler art style, like Order of the Stick does, but it's super hard to get anyone to read a webcomic with great art, let alone simple art designed to maintain a high page output. And, again, why are you making a comic if you don't want to draw, unless you just naturally happen to draw that way and be really fucking good at it like Rich Burlew is?

It seems like the only really good way to tell a story in a reasonable amount of time as a webcomic artist is to make enough money off it that you can work full time, and, um, that's not really feasible either.

I don't have an answer I like. I guess just kill yourself in the content mines working webcomics as a second job that doesn't pay you anything.

I don't have a conclusion, capitalism is a nightmare.

[jovial-thunder]

Lancer Tactics devlog

I'm gonna try out posting my ~monthly devlog roundup here as well. These suckers are glorified changelogs with anecdotes and gifs galore. Let me know if this is something you like seeing show up on your dash?

Map Editor

Got units able to be placed/deleted/moved in the mission editor

Can paint/remove command zones in the editor

Can paint minecraft-like terrain blocks in the editor

Can paint/rotate multi-tile props in the editor

Can edit unit character sheets and portrait via the editor

3D maps

Did a bunch of art tests with 3D mech models, provided by GeneralChaos, which we ended up deciding not to go with to keep things simple.

To avoid the can of worms that is animation, we'd have to lean into a static "tabletop minatures" aesthetic which we decided is not a style we want to be stuck with. By sticking with 2D sprites, we avoid falling into a sort of uncanny valley; it's easier to get away with not animating a 2D sprite than it is for a 3D model.

 We also experimented with 3D terrain. We decided to make a rule that the visual style for a piece of terrain should match its mechanical effect: obstructing terrain that you can't move through, such as rocks or buildings, will be in 3D, while non-obstructing terrain like trees will stick with 2D sprites.

Hooking up the 3D camera to follow events like movement and attacks did a LOT for making it starting to feel like it's cohering into an Actual Game™

Implemented cover! And an attack preview! Cover works by aiming a ray from the target to the originator (technically to and from each voxel of each, respectively, to handle size 2s shooting above size 1 cover) and tracking all the terrain blocks it hits (how we'll handle non-terrain hard cover TBD). I think I have it working according to Perijove's cover rules manual, but I'm sure there'll be edge cases to work out. This is a case where things are significantly simplified by working in squares instead of hexes; hexes have a lot more possible weird angles you have to deal with.

Re-added what I'm stubbornly calling Combat Popcorn; little bits of text that pop out when you use abilities and attacks.

UI & game screens

Added ability for the engine to show UI that's anchored to the game world via a little word bubble line but also stay on screen as the camera moves around.

Got word bubbles working; you can now write dialogue in the mission editor, hit playtest, and see it work in a mission! (it does actually translate correctly now; this gif is just from a bug I thought was funny)

Got ability effects mostly behaving appropriately again, including muzzle flashes. The easiest way to handle them ended up being NOT billboarding them so they always face the camera (like all other 2D sprites in the game); instead, I put them on a plane parallel with the ground and just spin them around the unit to point at wherever their target is.

Did some work ironing out our tooltip system. The standard in CRPGs these days is this kind of nested labyrinth of tooltops that you see in Baldur's Gate 3:

I Did Not Want to try and figure out how to wrangle that much UI, so we're instead opting to cap the nested tooltips at the second layer. You can lock a general tooltip for e.g. an action and then mouseover various items within that tooltip to get glossary definitions...

...and then instead of having those glossary tips be lockable/mouse-overable themselves, I collect all related terms to that glossary definition and let you tab through them.

Added skin overlay functionality to the portrait maker, enabling textures like scars, tattoos, stubble, and vitiligo to be applied to just the skin and not extend off into space.

Midway through writing this update, Carpenter sent me this gif of the randomization button working! There's a still a bunch of skintones/assets missing and a few are a bit janky, but it was exciting to start seeing the range of these lil freaks (affectionate) that this editor can create.

Mourning cloak license!

This is the one I'm probably most excited about: I did a bit of a content dive and implemented a basic character sheet + all Mourning Cloak traits and equipment. They don't have fancy graphics yet, but the weapons and systems can be added via the character sheet and used in-game.

It took a little under a day, including adding soon-to-be common mechanisms like bonus damage. This is great news in that it means the engine we've been building for so long in the abstract seems to do a great job in handling comprehensive actual game content, and that it looks like we've set ourselves up for success when it comes time to buckle down on churning that out.

I'm sure other licenses will come with unique difficulties (I fear the day it comes time to do the Mule Harness // Goblin CP) but I'm feeling good about it!

Vertical slice?

Taking a step back, the pressing question on my mind has been "when will we have a playable early access build?"

I was originally hoping for Feb/March, but what we've internally been referring to as the "3D cataclysm" has pushed everything back by at least three months, so the target for the first alpha build is now in May. So, ah, thanks for your patience! Seeing things come together, I've become more and more convinced that moving to 3D was the right call.

[thewriterg]

𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐮𝐭...

pairing(s); john price x gn!reader, 141 x reader

summary; trying to find as most comfort as you could in your predicament youd do what any rational person would… bake, but it was a bit difficult when you had six foot rodents in your kitchen —flufftober day; 4—

word count; 1.0k+

warning(s); readers callsign is peach, papa price, small argument price just cares, fluff, kisses, pet names, and language

playlists; lover, you should’ve come over by Jeff Buckley

A/n:—GIFs; @madesh & @campesine-moved—

When you step towards the door you made sure to knock on the old wood in the rhythmic order agreed on so you wouldn’t be gunned down where you stood or dead before you had a chance to hit the floor

When the door creaked open a gun was put in your line of sight before it was took away so you were able to take a step into the old safe house immediately bombarded with questions as you put down the crate of goods down you body layered in a thin sheet of sweat under all of the clothes essentially tuning out your surroundings after being hyper aware for your hourlong journey

You stripped of one of Ghosts many balaclavas, Prices god awful bucket hat, Soaps pair of sunglasses, and Gazs too big gloves as you began tune back into the conversation that suddenly wasn’t as loud as it was while Price stood in front of you his voice demanding and gruff

“Where were you Peach? I won’t ask again don’t make me pull rank.” You sucked in a sharp breath using your fingers to crack your knuckles at your side before taking in another breath way smoother than the first before you responded

“I want to a market a few miles from here you wouldn’t have to worry so much if you read the note I left on the fridge” You responded voice void of emotion and it was Prices turn to suck in a a breath

“You could’ve been followed, someone spotted you and made the connection and use you as leverage, You had no backup! And no team!” The brunette that was beginning to grey began to get louder his voice carrying a pitch Price hated to yell at you anyone but you but right now it was one of those times where he had to be you captain rather than your lover

“I think you forgot I used to work alone. If it was one of the boys would you react like this please tell me!? We were running outta of food and safety percussion is that you don’t go out for the first 72 hours after locating in a safe house it’s been 96 excuse me for looking after my team Captain” With a snatching of the crate from its position on the floor you stormed through what you all deemed to be the living room with the harder than rocks couch and worn down wood coffee table making your way into the kitchen

Price ran a stressed hand through his hair before making his way out to the porch his boots thumping against the creaking hardwood floor as he went before lighting up a cigar

💌💌💌💌

There wasn’t much for you to work with in the kitchen it wasn’t the worst shelter you’d been in but it certainly wasn’t the best but you appreciated the small things lying around like an old cutting board, a small eating bowl, one stray pan and even a janky but working oven

You cut down on the apples with a little more force than needed using your combat knife as a kitchen utensils after you had washed it god knows how many times to rid of any… unwanted extras in your treat

“You need something Captain?” You questioned and John mentally grimaced at the title as you dumped a small bag of brown sugar over your cut fruit he knew after things like that you needed time but 40 minutes was all he could stand it was one of those rare situations he had to be your captain and your lover even though he strictly preferred being one or the other

“I wanted to apologize I didn’t mean to yell at you but, I need you to understand that that call was risky and not the safest route” The greying brunette stated his voice soft yet still had that gruff underlying accent

“Maybe so, but it’s deeper than that if it was anyone else you wouldn’t have reacted the same… You would’ve praised them for sharp thinking” You shook your head with a the twitch or your lips downward Price straightened up his stance now entering the kitchen fully

“Come one Peaches that’s not true, I would’ve reacted the same for any other it was a risky thing to do and I needed to call you out on it as your Captain the situation at hand just had a little more emotion involved” John just about pleaded for you to understand as you sighed stopping your motion of roughly mixing the apples and sugar together

“I just… want you to know that I don’t need protecting John I’m just as capable on my own than with anyone else” You mumbled turning to put the sugared fruit in the pan the burning eye on the stove giving it heat to cook down before a pair of arms wrapped around your waist eyes peering over your shoulder

“And I know you are, I never doubt you. I do however worry about you because I love you and care for your safety” His tone now matched yours your and he began to smile when you leaned back into him

“I know, I’m sorry for worrying you” You whispered and Price pressed a kiss to the crown of your head in response as you stirred the filling gently momentarily having a second to yourselves before the sound of whisper shouting made its way through the room

“We were wondering if you needed a hand?” Soap questioned bashfully Gaz standing at his side while Ghost stared at the the two from his position at the small dining table with the roll of his eyes

“Tempting boys but, we all know how that would work out” You playfully rolled your eyes and Price chuckled from beside you his heart warm in his chest even if you were younger than Soap and Ghost you still referred to all of them as “the boys”

“Oh come on, that was Soaps fault!” Gaz pleaded and you snickered as the Scott let out an offended noise before the pair began to bicker with one another of who did it as you smiled and giggled at the sight Price watched you with love in his eyes

The sight was as sweet as apple pie.

©2023 thewriterg spooktober do not copy, translate, or modify.

[gaybananabread]

Could I get lee!dabi and ler!hawks for day 28? <3

TickleTober Day 28 - Spooked

~Ehehe my bois! These two will always be one of my favorite ships to write; it’s so fun with their dialogue! Been a hot sec, so I’m sticking to the character attributes I remember. Dabi’s got his black hair and patchwork chest, and Hawks has his wings. Thank you for requesting, and I hope you Enjoy!~

Lee: Dabi

Ler: Hawks

Summary: Dabi decides to spook his boyfriend with a “harmless” prank. Hawks doesn’t appreciate his sense of humor, teaching the crispy-fried villain a lesson he won’t soon forget.

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!

“I’m home, Dabs!” Hawks bumped his hip against the janky door of the villain’s apartment, sighing as it stuck once again. He’d really have to get on his ass about moving in with him…

“Uh…why’s it so dark?” The winged hero felt like he was talking to himself as he looked around, fumbling for the light switch. It was in such a weird place; he could never find it, and that was with the lights on.

A thump sounded from Dabi’s room, making Hawks’s eyes narrow. That wasn’t normal…

Two feathers came off his wings, hovering beside him as he slowly approached the door. He was in full hero-mode, the familiar feeling of adrenaline creeping into his veins almost putting him at ease.

When he reached the door, he sent the feathers towards the thumping noise, only to find them…sticking out of the top of a Roomba. A very sad and confused little Roomba that kept bumping into the wall, hence the thumping.

“What the fu-”

“AAAUGH!”

Hawks let out his own scream at the deep-throated howl that came from behind him, whirling around to strike the offender. His wrist was easily caught, though instead of a bullet to the ribs or stab to the heart, he was met by the cheeky grin of his boyfriend.

“Ha! Holy fuckin’ shit, birdy! I didn’t think it’d get you that bad!” Dabi’s teeth were showing in an uncharacteristically gleeful smile, his eyes glowing with amusement. “Thought you hero types were supposed to be brave and all that.”

“You…” The blonde’s brain took a moment to catch up, the adrenaline in his system still addling his thoughts. Dabi had turned out the lights, set the Roomba, and… “You asshole! What if I’d stabbed you?!”

“But you didn’t. Actually, you stabbed the Roomba. Poor lil’ guy.” Dabi nudged the thing with his foot, watching as it shifted back and forth on the carpet. Hawks had definitely damaged it, but hadn’t completely broken it. It was just stuck in a sad little shuffle.

“I didn’t mean to- since when did you have a Roomba?” Hawks asked incredulously, looking around the apartment. The floor was kinda clean for once, save for the random shirt or sock here and there.

“Found it.” Dabi snickered at the look that earned him. “What, the guy was a dick! He was scammin’ people the whole morning.”

“Damn it, Dabi,” Hawks sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. No matter how terrible of a person the guy was, he shouldn’t have been stolen from. Unfortunately, the machine wasn’t exactly in peak condition anymore. “Can’t really return it now…”

“Oh no, so sad.” Dabi’s monotone snark really let Hawks know he regretted his actions. Not. “You should’ve seen your face, Keigo. Adorable~”

“Proud of yourself, are you?” Hawks’s voice dropped an octave, making Dabi’s grin falter slightly. Maybe he’d gone a little far, but…well, he really didn’t regret it. It was fun as hell to spook him.

“Yep. I always knew you were a chicken~”

Oho, that’s it, you shithead!

Hawks lunged at his boyfriend, making the man jump back. He landed on his bed, the bird quickly jumping down on top of him. After a quick tousle, the winged hero had him pinned, a dangerously playful glare on his face.

“Damn! You really are an adrenaline junkie, ain’t ya?” Dabi smirked up at him, puffing his chest out a bit. Even when he was stuck beneath someone, he managed to dominate the situation.

“Shut up.” The tone of his lover’s voice immediately shut him up, leaving the burnt boy blinking in surprise. Hawks shifted, forcing the man’s arms above his head. “You like laughing at me so much? Try laughing at yourself.”

“H-hey, Keigo, wait a min- GRK!” Dabi jolted as the winged hero targeted his navel, immediately attacking the unburned area that he knew damn well was ticklish as hell. The man lasted a grand total of five seconds before he broke.

“FUHUHUCK YOUHUHUHU!” The villain thrashed and tugged on his arms, trying to get free of his boyfriend’s evil grip. He was really regretting wearing such a thin shirt…

“We could’ve just cuddled when I got home, but noooo. Someone had to be a little asshole and scare me.” Hawks didn’t stop the scolding as he tickled him, leaning in so the ravenette could hear him over his own laughter. “You brought this on yourself.”

“SHUHUHUT UHUHUHUP!” His taunt stomach quivered as he laughed, sure to be sore later during training. He really didn’t have a good comeback for the man; he wasn’t wrong, but there was no way Dabi was gonna admit it.

“No thanks. You learn best when you’re forced to.”

A thought popped into Hawks’s mind, making him smirk. Teaching him was a good idea, actually. He lifted his hand from the man’s stomach, instead sending two feathers to trace along his collarbones. Dabi’s unruly laughter slowly died down to airy giggles at the tactic change, brows furrowed in confusion.

“I’m gonna ask you some questions, babe. Try not to get them wrong.” Hawks flexed his fingers menacingly before speaking again, the feathers never stopping their gentle teasing. “Is it okay to steal from someone, even if they’re being a dick?”

“I-ihihin the rihight cihircumstahance, yeheah.” Dabi answered with his honest opinion, knowing it would piss the bird boy off. He was digging his own grave, but he was doing it with style. At least, he felt like he was.

“Bzzzt! Wrong, jackass. The correct answer was ‘No, beautiful, it’s not.’” Hawks dug his fingers back in as he made the buzzer noise, giving Dabi’s navel a good knead.

“C-COHOHOCKY BAHASTAHARD!” Dabi arched his back off the bed, though he was quickly pushed back down by Hawks’s elbow. He really wasn’t playing around…

After a nice two-minute penalty, Hawks tried asking a different question. “Let’s try this one. Is it okay to scare the living daylights out of our boyfriends who take down bad guys for a living?”

Dabi bit his lip as he giggled, panting slightly. It would be in his best interest to answer wisely, but… Well, Hawks didn’t lose control often. He wanted to see what would happen if he pushed that little bit too far.

“Hehell yeah. Ehespecially whehen thehey’re adohohorable lihittle chihicken- GYAAAAHAHAHA!”

The smug retort was cut off by a loud and ridiculous sound. Hawks blew a raspberry – a fucking raspberry – on his navel, nearly sending the burnt man into silent laughter. Curse his damn sensitivity!

Just to really make sure the lesson made it through his boyfriend’s thick head, Hawks blew a few more little ones across his stomach. By the time he was done, the unburned crests of Dabi’s cheeks were practically glowing with a blush, his eyes half-lidded. Hawks thought it was beautiful, taking a mental snapshot.

“One more chance.” The feathers resumed their tracing, swooping across the spent man’s collarbones once again. The sleepy giggles nearly made Hawks melt, but he held strong. “Was it a good idea to scare me like that, especially when you had to steal to do it?”

“N-nohohoho…” Dabi’s resolve had been thoroughly broken, his weary body lying still as the feather grazed across his skin. It was actually sort of relaxing, the soft compared to the rough.

“There ya go. Good job,” Hawks cooed, petting his exhausted boyfriend’s head as he settled down. If he were fully awake, Dabi would no doubt be taking his revenge; he wasn’t, though, his clingy side showing with the grogginess.

Dabi wrapped his arms loosely around Hawks as the man lied down, nuzzling his face into his soft hair. It smelled faintly of his vanilla shampoo, though he was much too tired to tease him about the scent. Instead, he sighed and closed his eyes, letting the warmth of his lover seep into his bones. A moment later, he felt Hawks’s wings extend, draping over them like a weighted blanket. So tired…

“Love you, KFC…”

“Love you too, you burnt chicken nuggie.”