#bob sponge reference

[koasku]

[blondwolfart]

I made a gift for @michealscorneroftheinternet I read their story "Change in script" and I got really into it so I decided to make a art gift for them I hope you like it.

[sparkylilacs]

Listen Up!

I have a genius plan!

Step One: Create an amazing band and start writing songs.

Step Two: Aggressivly campaign climbing to the top of the charts.

Step Three: Go on tour at all the biggest arenas.

Step Four: Get asked to do the SuperBowl half time show.

Step Five: Act unsure, but ultimately accept.

Step Six: At the SuperBowl, the stage is dark, the crowd hushed expecting our biggest hit song. A single light shines down on the lead singer in a bright red band uniform. The crowd murmurs, all the band is in these outfits we've never worn before, its not even on brand for us. Trumpets blare, a keyboard pulses, the lead singer begins, "Winner takes aalll,".

Step Seven: It was all a sham. The band, the songs, the promoting, all to play Sweet Victory live at the SuperBowl halftime show. The audience is trapped, the tv producers freaking out. After the performance we disperse, never to play together again, having accomplished our goal.

Step Eight: Go down in history as the ones who fulfilled a promise made to a generation of fans who were robbed.

So who wants to join Project Pineapple!!!!!!!

[dollarstorebonerpills]

i'm connecting with him on an incredibly deep level right now🐛🐜🪲🐞📯🕷️🪳

mr krabs’s license to kill expires tomorrow

[gogomeaty]

Why would you do if I appear out of nowhere in the room you're right now and i start screaming? screaming and singing horribly on purpose

[buntobeans]

spilled ice cream is a great wingman - venture x brother’s best friend reader

Nsfw utc. this is FILTHY FILTHY!!!!

Thanx venture’s burrow for this image..

amab sloan 

afab reader but is referred to with gender neutral terms (or at least as gender neutral as spanish gets)

you guys are both adults, just to clear up if anything seems uncomfy! i envision Sloan to be around 23 and you’re 21 :))

this is FILTH

like DESCRIBED FILTH!

wrote this on a plane sorry if it’s delulu or uncomfy or grossly described. I think I’m also sick.. also barely edited SORRRYYY also there’s like a severe lack of lube here sad face wahhh wahh ouchie 

More italics needed but.. WOMP WOMP!!!!!

i spent way too much time on this

i’ve taken like two classes of Spanish but hoopefully I’ve got it right.. I used the masculine form for some words because I wasn’t sure if I should just make a female reader but— hey anyone can read, regardless of their bits n bobs— let the punana in your heart be your guide <3

OK NOTES OVER!! LOVE YOU E-KITTENS!!!! IM GOING HOMEEEE AND SEEING MY DOG!!!

-

How the hell did you get here? 

Your thighs twitched as you struggled to clamp them shut, but the assured little hushes of Sloan’s voice and their large fingers prying your legs apart strayed you away from doing so. 

You opened your mouth and closed it, akin to a fish out of water. Forgetting what you were going to say, your words died on your tongue, shifting into small little whimpers as Sloan rolled their thumb over your swollen clit. 

“Doing so good, cariño.” They murmured, tenderly kissing your earlobe. “Mierda. Always dreamed of seein’ you like this.”

-

“Sloan!” You bounded up to your brother’s best friend as they plopped down the couch of your living room. 

“Hey!” They gave you that gorgeous, million dollar grin with their chipped tooth that you’d grown to find so attractive. Sloan instinctually opened their arms for you to leap into, giving you a small affectionate hug. “¿Qué onda? How’s it hangin’?”

“It’s good!” You cheerily piped. Your brother groaned at the sight of you unceremoniously interrupting his time with his best friend, but you ignored it— perhaps you stuck out a tongue at him and gave him a little side eye, but in Sloan’s eyes, you weren’t doing anything wrong! They’d defend you!

Your brother’s best friend. Sloan Cameron. The two had been friends for a while, so it was common for them to come over to your house to chill with your brother. Naturally, you found yourself acquainted with them, popping in to occasionally annoy your brother or include yourself in their conversations. While your brother was most irked by it, Sloan didn’t seem to mind in the slightest, instead treating you like a little sibling, often fondly smiling at you and ruffling your hair. 

Oh, how you longed for those eyes to gaze at you with a different kind of affection. 

You had the biggest crush on your brother’s best friend. You couldn’t help it— Sloan was so darn attractive with their messy brown hair and skin decorated in the occasional freckle, large frame walking around your house in shirts with the sleeves sloppily cut off, highlighting their muscle, and baggy cargo pants. You soaked up all the attention they’d give you like a sponge, eagerly awaiting them to come over to your house and hang out with your brother so you could brush your fingers with their larger ones while handing them snacks under the guise of showing them hospitality. 

But they never seemed to notice. So you kept your pining for sweet Sloan a secret, tucked away in the corners of your heart for your silly little crush to never come to fruition. 

“I’m going to the store to get some beer,” your brother announced, grabbing his keys and slipping on his shoes. “Need anything?”

“Hook me up with some ice cream!” Sloan yelled as your brother opened the door. 

Your brother left the house and it was eerily quiet, Sloan and you being the only presences in the home. You pulled yourself out of Sloan’s arms, suddenly flustered by the proximity— but, of course, missing their warmth. 

“We have ice cream. I bought some recently.” You piped up, hopping off the couch to skitter to the kitchen. 

Over your dead body would you admit you’d bought the ice cream with Sloan in mind. 

“Ooh, sweet! Haha. Pun intended. What flavor?” Sloan asked, eyeing you as you opened the freezer. They let out a little breath as they watched you bend over to find the sweet treat.

“Vanilla.” You answered, taking out the tub of ice cream, opening it, and sticking a spoon in it. It wasn’t like you’d documented Sloan’s favorite flavor in the archives of your mind… not at all. 

You eagerly took the tub and ran over to Sloan on the couch.

“It might be a little bit melted because it sat out but—“

You let out a yelp as you stumbled, the ice cream going flying. Panic set in as you realized you were falling. 

“Whoa, whoa! Hey there.” Sloan’s arms wrapped around you.

You swore all the oxygen left your body. Their arms were so big, so warm— you gulped, not daring to meet their eyes in fear of the chipped shit-eating grin they might be wearing on their stupidly gorgeous face. 

What you did look at, however, was their shirt. 

A mess of ice cream coated their body, and you internally screamed. 

Mortified, your heart dropped. “Oh my gosh, I’m so so sorry— I didn’t mean to drop it at all oh no no—“ Hot tears of frustration pooled in your eyes as your lips tugged into a frown. 

“Hey, hey!” Their voice cut you out of your rant and meltdown-in-progress. “It’s okay. Everything’s fine. It’s just a little ice cream.”

That was a TOTAL lie. They were practically drenched in vanilla. 

You wailed in embarrassment. 

“Ay, está bien. Don’t worry! I can just take it off.”

You gulped. You punched yourself in your mind for the lewd thoughts running rampant in your brain, searching for anything to distract yourself with, anything to reply with—

“Y-Yeah?” Fuck. You stuttered. “If you give it to me I can wash it—“

Stupid! Stupid! You were totally feeding into this! Thoughts of Sloan shirtless attacked your mind, and suddenly the room was way hotter than you’d recalled a minute ago. 

Sloan chuckled and your soul left your body as you watched them peel their shirt off, showcasing their toned body. They made a show of it, too, confidently lifting their shirt off their body. Holy fuck. Their body was no joke. Accompanied with a bit of chub, they proudly displayed a set of prominent abs. Tattoos of runes, sigils, and ancient gibberish you couldn’t understand (or maybe your head was too clouded to read) were scattered across their body. Their bellybutton had a little piercing and a line of hair trailed down their chest to a place you quickly looked away from before your eyes could meet. 

“Like what you see?” They chuckled. You cursed yourself internally. You were practically drooling over them! 

“No— I mean yes— I mean—“ You were so close to slamming your head against the wall. 

They handed you their shirt and you shakily took it, nervously clutching it like a lifeline to ground you to your surroundings. Thank GOD you were washing it, because you were practically sweating buckets into the fabric from your clammy hands. 

“So..? You gonna get off my lap, or..?”

Oh, just kill me already, you thought. Bury me alive and don’t let anybody see my body. Especially my brother. He’d probably laugh his ass off. 

You mustered the courage to stare at Sloan. They were so close to you, almost brushing their nose with you and—

Oh. 

“There’s something.. poking me..?”

It was Sloan’s turn to be flustered. Heat rose to their cheeks as they gazed down, met with their little “problem”. 

“Dios mio,” they gasped. “Don’t pay any attention to that. Lo siento, I am sooo soo sorry—“

You gulped. Was this really happening? No, but— what the hell? Had Sloan really gotten turned on from you sitting in their lap?

Gods. And they were big. Their hardness pressing against you— it wasn’t a joke. You struggled to pick up the pieces of your mind as thoughts flitted about— what would it feel like— what would it be like inside you—

“..Do you need help with that?” You squeaked out before you could even register the words in your mind. 

Oh, you’ve really done it now. 

Sloan stared at you with wide eyes, cheeks heated. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sor—“

“You mean that?”

Your hands unconsciously curled further into their shirt. You wanted so desperately for a distraction, to leave this awkward situation, but a tinge of hope and an indescribable pull left you staring helplessly into their eyes. 

You nodded. A small nod, but a nod nonetheless. 

“…You don’t want this.” Sloan laughed nervously. So you weren’t the only horribly mortified one here. It was almost relieving. Almost. “Do you..?”

Fuck it. 

“..I like you. I want this with you. I always have. I mean, I want not just this.. I want you as a whole, I want Sloan Cameron—“ You squeezed your eyes shut as you spoke, too afraid to see their expression. Every moment they didn’t respond to you felt like a century. Your heart dropped with each passing second, wholly terrified of their response. 

“..Que lindo..” They softly murmured. Their hand reached under your shirt to gently stroke your hip with their thumb, and you shuddered at the sensation. Their hand was big. And warm. You’d spent too much time staring at it, wondering how it would truly feel against you. 

“I’ve always thought you were cute.” They finally said. You opened an eye to peek at them. They were looking away, expression unreadable. “Your excited little smile.. the way you always greet me whenever I come here..” They chuckled anxiously. “Heck, it’d be a lie to say I just come here to hang out with your brother.” They were flustered. You could see it. It was your first time seeing this expression on Sloan, but you prayed to whatever deity that existed that it wouldn’t be the last. You held your breath, hanging onto their every word. “Why do you think I choose your house to hang out with him..? I like.. seeing you.. ah,

demonios, I can’t do this at all..”

Their shirt dropped from your grasp and onto the couch as you stared at them, agape. Were you dreaming?

“So.. are you gonna get off my lap, or are we gonna.. canoodle? Ah, that was stupid of me.. idiot Sloan.. who even says canoodle..” You laughed with a mix of bewilderment and adoration as Sloan spoke, wiggling their eyebrows at you. 

Before you knew it, you were kissing them. Kissing them like there was no tomorrow. Savoring their lips. Like this would be the last time you’d ever experience their lips at all. Oh, but you knew it wouldn’t be. You knew you’d have so many more moments like this with them. 

Sloan’s hands roamed aimlessly over your body, slipping under your shirt. You let out a soft whimper at the sensation, noting the way goosebumps appeared on Sloan’s skin at the sound and the way they were touching you got more possessive; the way they were touching you got greedier. 

“Sloan.” A kiss. “My room is much—“ Another one, this time they missed, landing their lips on the corner of yours. “—Comfier than this—“ You threw your head back like a drowning person gasping for air. 

Sloan’s brain was too fuzzy to fully comprehend your words, but they seemed to understand the notion, hoisting you up in their arms by your thighs. You let out a yelp at the sudden sensation of being lifted off the ground. Their discarded shirt covered in ice cream that was probably melted by now (with the help of your ever-growing body heat) was long forgotten on the couch as Sloan mapped a course to your room, their lips never leaving your face. 

“Abre la boca.” They ordered. You looked up at them, dazed eyes confused by the sudden Spanish. “Ah.. I mean, open your mouth.” You obediently complied, allowing them to greedily shove their tongue into your mouth. You surely would’ve fallen if it weren’t for their big arms keeping you up. 

Their energetic tongue seemed to have a will of its own, messily dancing with yours, rolling over your teeth and mixing their saliva with yours. It was like they were trying to explore every inch of your mouth, charting all the places that had never been reached by anyone else. It was unlike anything you’d ever experienced— if there was one thing you knew for sure tonight, it was that Sloan Cameron’s tongue game was insane. 

You only understood you were in your room when the sheets hit your back, Sloan atop of you. Their kissing never ceased; your mouth was starting to cramp, but hell, your mind was full of joyful delirium. You’d kiss them for eternity if you could. 

You whined as their chipped tooth caught on your lip, the slight stinging sensation surprisingly pleasant. Sloan apologetically sucked on your lip, leaning back to stare at you. 

Your lips were a mess. Drool leaked everywhere, and they weren’t too sure if it was from you or them— maybe both— but they were too aroused to care. You made them feel like a horny teen all over again. You, splayed out on your bed, legs quivering, shirt slightly riding up from the sensation of being practically thrown down by Sloan; you looked like a cute little  present, one Sloan was itching to unwrap. 

“Can I take this off?” Sloan was too impatient for you to answer the question that they themself had asked, fingers eagerly working to strip you of your clothes. You would’ve laughed at their eagerness if it wasn’t for the burning need you felt for them in the moment, instead opting to gaze up at them dumbly. 

Sloan sucked in a breath as they gazed at your shirtless figure. You were even more stunning than they’d imagined. Those nights of rubbing one out to the thoughts of their best friend’s cute sibling faded away as they registered that you were truly real and there, under them. 

They wanted to ravish you. 

They nearly whined, large fingers palming your bra-clad breasts. With shaky hands, they clumsily took your bra off. It took Sloan longer than it should have, them constantly kissing you like they couldn’t be away from your lips for two seconds and them fumbling with the bra strap and trying to stop themself from ripping it off entirely. But damn, if it wasn’t worth it. You looked absolutely beautiful. Sloan’s eyes roved over your body like a hawk to its prey. You shivered, entertaining the possibility of being swallowed up by them. 

Their cock pulsed with need at the sight of your bare chest, aching to be relieved. It was almost painful, but Sloan was determined to make this pleasant for you, even in their lust-clouded haze. 

“Mierda. So pretty.. I want you. I need you.” They moved their mouth down to greedily attack your breasts, rolling their tongue around your left nipple. They occupied the other with their hand, alternating between gently scratching the bud, flicking it with their thumb and forefinger, and cupping your breast. You squirmed in their hold and they let out a gentle hum of comfort to try and still your movements, which, admittedly, did nothing but make you wetter than you already were. 

“Sloan..” They momentarily stopped their ministrations to soak up that heavenly noise, but quickly resumed when you let out a whine of protest. 

“Mm?” They mumbled against your breast, stopping their sucking and tongue-prodding to dot kisses down your stomach. “What is it, cariño?”

You shakily sighed, fingers tangling in their hair as you watched them with glazed eyes. 

“‘S not enough, I need more.” You protested softly. Sloan’s eyes softened at the sensation. A hint of their teasing nature sparked up and they thought about making you wait for the reprieve you so desperately desired, but they squashed the whim, deciding instead there was plenty of time for that later. Later, when you two were more prepared.

They pulled away from you and groping your tits and you groaned with disappointment, to which they chuckled softly at. 

“C’mere.” They shifted on the bed so they were laying down. “Take your pants off.”

That sounded appealing. You gulped, scooting over to them, and obediently stripped yourself to your panties, to which Sloan let out a low whistle at. 

Your panties were so cute. Did you doll yourself up in the hopes they’d see you like this and fuck you silly? Sloan sighed dreamily at the thought. 

They pulled you onto their lap with ease, and you prayed that your wetness wasn’t soaking through your underwear and onto them. You bit your lip as Sloan hooked their fingers in your panties, slowly pulling them down. They let out a breathy sigh as they stared at the wetness coating your panties. It was them that you were so drenched for. Them. Sloan Cameron. 

Fuck, they were so lucky. You were just the cutest. 

“On my face.” They said softly, staring at you with love. 

“What?” You sputtered. Sloan tossed your panties aside (as much as they enjoyed them) to who-knows-where in your bedroom, occupying their hands with grabbing your thighs. They marveled at the sensation, squeezing gently.

“On my face.” They repeated. “Sit on it.” 

You stared at them incredulously. “You want me to sit on your face? But what if I’m too heavy?”

They chuckled, the sound rippling through your body. 

“I think I have more than enough strength to handle you sitting on my face.” They said, a bit cockily. You gulped at their brazenness, casting a gaze to the muscles you’d been ogling over earlier. 

The offer did seem tempting…

“But what if you, I don’t know, lose air? What if I suffocate you?” 

“Suffocating between your thighs sounds like an honorable death.” They flashed that chipped tooth grin at you that you had grown to adore so much. “Sloan Cameron— died because they were too devoted to eating some pussy.” You snorted at their inability to stay serious even when extremely horny, knowing arguing with them was useless. 

You shakily clambered atop them. They licked their lips as your sopping wet cunt entered their vision. You hovered over their face apprehensively, but Sloan wasn’t having any of it— you squeaked as they pulled you down onto their face. 

You felt your brain turning to mush as you felt Sloan’s face between your legs. Their nose brushed your clit just perfectly, tingling your spine; it was like their face was made for you to sit on— a.. rather odd way of saying you were meant for each other. You gripped their hair in an attempt to steady yourself, but all hopes of regaining some sense of clarity were dashed as you felt them inhale you. 

“You smell so good,” they moaned out. “I wanna taste you, I wanna taste you.. amor, oh, mi amor..”

You let out a keen as they ran their tongue along your folds, lapping up your wetness. They sighed like they were in heaven at its taste; You were everything they imagined and more, so much more. 

You squealed as they traced your tongue around your entrance prodded their tongue at it. 

“C’mon.” They shakily breathed out. “Move for me. You can do it.”

You gulped, knowing nothing but the feeling of their mouth buried in your cunt. The vestiges of embarrassment faded away as you first grinded on their face, replaced by a wave of overwhelming white-hot pleasure. 

It was too quick, how you lost yourself in the sensations of their mouth. You let out soft sobs of ecstasy as Sloan ate you out like a starved human. They made no move to stop you from tugging on their hair as you ground yourself against their face, basking in your enjoyment and rather enjoying the pain. 

“Sloan, oh, oh, I’m so clo—“

“I’m home! I brought your dumb ice cream!” Yelled the familiar voice of your brother. You immediately snapped out of your lusty trance, eyes widening to the size of dinner plates. You stared at Sloan like you’d been caught stealing from a cookie jar— they looked back with the same ‘oh shit’ gaze. 

Your brother made his presence known in the living room, setting down the spoils from his trip to the grocery store with a loud, annoyed grunt.

“Where are you two?! Why the hell is Sloan’s shirt on the couch..? And is that ice cream??”

Fuck. You’d forgotten the shirt. 

Sloan looked up at you. You looked back, face full of embarrassment, looking to them for help. 

“Say something!” They urged you. 

“What do I even say??”

“I don’t know!” They whisper-yelled, panic palpable. 

You groaned in annoyance. It took every inch of your willpower not to squeeze their face from where it was with your thighs, but they’d probably enjoy that. 

“Sloan went home!!” You yelled quickly, trying to sound normal— as if you hadn’t just been given the best damn head of your life. 

“Without their shirt?” Your brother yelled back. 

You looked at them for an answer. They pursed their lips and creased their eyebrows at you to as if to say “I don’t know!”, but all it did was send ripples of ecstasy through your body. You managed to silence a moan at the sensation of their pursed lips on you, and their eyes tinged with a rekindled fire. 

“T-Turns out we had ice cream!!” You yelled back. “They spilled it and just went home without it! Th-they said they were tired!”

Your brother groaned in annoyance, mumbling a “That sounds like something Sloan would do”. You sighed in relief, though it was short lived as Sloan’s lips closed around your clit. Your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head and you had to stifle the loudest whine— with limited success, as it came out like a little grunt. You slapped them from where you were, though it was light, your head too consumed with pleasure to truly do any damage. 

“Keep moving,” Sloan murmured against you. You moaned softly at their breath against the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“Are you crazy?” You whimpered. 

They raised an eyebrow at you, as if asking you to really answer that question. Yes. Yes, Sloan Cameron was batshit insane. And yes. You loved them. And the idea was turning you on far too much for you to admit.

You slowly continued rolling your hips across their face, gasping quietly at the sensation. 

“Yo, are you sick up there?! You sound awful! Like, more than usual!” Your brother yelled. You cursed under your breath. Of all the times your brother had to show a semblance of care (even if it was backhanded), why now?

You gripped Sloan’s hair tighter, trembling with each roll of your hips. Drool fell from your mouth and onto the bed. 

“Yeah, I’m fine! I’m- uh- I’m naked-!” You screamed. You cursed softly under your breath. Your tone was far too shaky to even sound believable. 

Sloan giggled against your skin. You squealed, kicking what you could of their body lightly with your foot. They let out a quiet “oomph”, which did little to help you, as it blew air against your swollen clit. You threw your head forward, nearly burying your face in the bed. You really dug yourself a hole with anything you did. 

“Ew!” Your brother blanched from the living room. “So I bought all this beer for nothing?” 

Please leave, please leave, please leave-

“I’m not gonna waste this. And I definitely don’t wanna see you naked! I’m gonna go to a friend’s house and drink this!!” You sighed in extreme relief. “I’ll probably stay over! Don’t burn down the house! And clean up that shirt and fucking ice cream!” Even better. He’d be gone the whole night. You felt almost giddy at the thought. 

You halted your movements, which Sloan pouted at, until you heard the door click shut. You almost burst into tears in relief. 

“Thank goodne—“ You trailed off into a loud yelp as Sloan flattened their tongue against your clit. Any possible words escaped you, torn from your mind as Sloan endlessly abused the sensitive bud. 

Their hands squeezed your thighs, nails gently scratching small marks into it, heightening your pleasure. 

“Close— I think ‘m— Sloan— Sloan!!” You shrieked, clenching their hair and tugging. They moaned into you at the feeling, speeding up their movements to help you reach your peak. You assisted, grinding faster against their face, your imminent release the only thing in your mind. 

You cried as you felt yourself cum, digging your heels into the sheets. Your whole body seized up in the most intense orgasm you’d ever experienced, and you collapsed on them, exhausted. Your thighs ached, but you couldn’t imagine how Sloan felt. 

..actually, you could. They were beaming, licking off the traces off wetness you’d left on their face like it was fine dining. You were thoroughly embarrassed by the picture, but it was so addicting to stare at. 

You panted softly, burrowing your face in their neck. You could feel yourself sweating, the heat in your body doing little in terms of leaving. 

“Good?”

“Way too good.. What ab’t you?” You murmured into their neck. They blinked, as if the thought hadn’t even crossed their mind. 

“What about me?” They looked just like a clueless puppy. You wrapped your arms around their waist, absentmindedly squeezing their stomach. 

“This whole thing started ‘cuz you were hard.” You mumbled, gently raking your nails across their body. 

They groaned in embarrassment. “Oh, right.. umm.. don’t worry about it.”

You pouted up at them. They cooed internally at the sight; you were just the cutest!

“No. You pleased me.. I should please you back..”

They sighed with a soft little chuckle. “I pleased you, and by pleasing you, I was pleased. Wait, does that even make any sense?” They hummed, thinking. 

You still weren’t satisfied, fingers tugging at the band of their pants. Sloan gulped nervously, feeling heat spread through their body again. Their large, clammy hands covered yours, dwarfing them. 

“Honestly, cariño, you really don’t have to—“

“But what if I wanna?” You asked softly. 

Sloan let out a sigh. 

“I can’t argue with that.”

You eagerly slipped their pants down along with their boxers decorated with assortments of puppies on them, admiring their built legs. You traced the trail of hair from the bellybutton piercing on their stomach down to where their pubes peeked out. You mewled softly, taking in the sight of them. 

Your eyes trailed down. 

“Oh.” You mumbled. 

Sloan laughed nervously. Was that a good “Oh” or a bad “Oh”?

You were taken aback. By no means was it not long, but what you were impressed by was.. the girth. Sloan’s cock was thick. You gulped at the size, but were determined not to let yourself be intimidated. 

You spat in your hand, slowly wrapping a hand around them. Awed by the way one hand barely fit around their length, you slowly pumped your hand. It was like you were entranced. 

Sloan was weak. They were on the verge of crumbling. You looked so adorable, so fucking innocent, staring at their cock oozing precum with fascination, quickly looking up at them with each stroke to gage their reaction. You were so, so, eager to please them, and they felt like they were going to cum embarrassingly quick. 

They felt like they were in some porn— except nothing they were feeling was an act— you were really there, with them, their skin was on fire, oh, they loved you so much. Oh, they felt depraved. Your hand on them was bliss. Pure bliss. 

When you licked the tip of their cock, they almost came immediately. They cursed and willed themself to hold out a little longer. 

You were thoroughly enjoying their reactions; Every shake, every shiver, every keen was addicting to you. You wanted to draw more from Sloan, discover more, feel more. With them. 

You gave a vein a little kitten lick and they pulled on your hair. You gasped in surprise, sending more of their length down your throat. You gagged on it, hot tears forming in your eyes, but oh, seeing them keel over was so worth it. 

You absentmindedly cupped their balls, giving them a soft squeeze. Sloan grunted. They were so, so close. 

“Mierda, mierda.. te quiero, ah..”

You understood the gist of what they were saying, and let out a muffled “wuvvvyoutoo” against their cock, to which they finally threw their head back with a loud groan. 

They came. Hard. 

You gulped down a bit, pondering the salty taste. You pulled back, the rest coating your mouth. Sloan looked at you.

You were absolutely filthy, their cum coating your face. They reached out a thumb to wipe your mouth, but you licked it off your lips, just like they’d done when they ate you out. 

Sloan gulped. 

Yeah, you would never be their best friend’s sibling again. 

Just you. 

You plopped into their lap, too exhausted to say anything. They sighed, absolutely lovesick, caging you in their arms. They peppered your face with much more innocent kisses.

“I love you.” They mumbled softly.

“Mm.” You tiredly leaned into them, finding entertainment in tracing your hands along their tattoos. “..love you too..”

They smiled softly, nuzzling into your neck. 

Sloan was whipped. 

-

so like i kinda fell off at the end 😺 but yeah this is FILTH! if you read this far you’re a SINNER!!! A FREAK!!

plsplspls tell me if it’s not as gender neutral as it can b and if I can fix anything with sloan or you !! love you mwah 

sighs I need to write sloan putting it in and becoming absolutlyelyl pathetic

[foone]

I'm disappointed that tumblr has been all over making jokes about "hallowing my ween" and that tiktok about "hallo ween" "I am ween" and none of them reference classic experimental/alt-rock band Ween

COME ON, I KNOW YOU YOUNGER MILLENIALS HAVE HEARD OCEAN MAN, YOU ALL SPONGE THE BOBS

[retrovents]

F is for fire that burns down the whole town

U is for uranium, bombs

N is for no survivors...

Down here in the deep blue sea!

Fun

id tell you what it stands for but then id get deleted

[sleepyjim]

sponging straight up bob 🗣

[IDs: two digital drawings, redrawn screencaps; one depicting spongebob squarepants and one depicting patrick star, respectively.

in the first image spongebob is seen doing a little dance, wiggling his arms and legs. he has a big smile which is highlighted by two yellow starbursts drawn near his face. the background is plain blue.

the second image shows patrick lying on his rock, raising his fist and giving a warm, encouraging grin to spongebob, who is off-camera. here patrick is drawn with top surgery scars. the background of the drawing is uncompleted, and there's some references off to the side of the canvas. /end IDs]

[luckyshotwrites]

Trick

Hero, matchbook and apex in at Halloween party in costume.

FOR those that don't know, since I have not got that deep into I Got Roped Into Being A Hero yet, Hiro (or The Hero) has Villain as a "activation word" to attack. Instinctually he'll then look around for who it was referred to. His pupils expanding to take up his eyes, and his teeth sharpen as mentioned chapter 1.

THE one he is chasing is one of the strongest villains in their world, known as Apex. Apex has not been formally introduced, however, they're Hiro's and by association Matchbooks main villain.

Extra art below of Hiro and Matchbooks full costumes. Yes it's from sponge//bob, because the mermaid calls out Evil when there is a villain. Thank you @extreme-unorthodox-cuddles for mentioning it <3.

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK, SOUL, AND HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY!! (NON-NEGOTIABLE)

[koasku]

me hizo mucha gracia bajsjdjsjskks

[alumi-san]

Episode 13 was... almost good? It really feels that after Tomjake drama ended, the show got back on trek!

- Marcus is a sweetheart! He's definitely my favorite secondary character.

- Just a personal thing, but I'm happy that Alec's ex-wife and son got a names

- Not a Riyalec shiper. I like them as friends/platonic baddies.

- Marcus being a dad to Kristal is my favorite thing in this episode.

- Why only Marvel references? Don't get me wrong, I love Marvel, but what about DC?

- Finally Aiden and Jake friendship! Gay solitary!

- Also, nice Sponge Bob reference.

- If Grett and Yul were in a healthy relationship, they would be an unstoppable duo! They could've been Magnifico and Amaya that Disney took from us!

- Okay, but why is Aiden revealing that Riya and Alec kissed must break the vilian alliance? Why would Gabby and Grett care about it? Explain!

- Go Grett!

Bye-bye, Yul! I hope Hunter, Ellie, Tom, and James will beat the s**t out of you for what you said to/how you treated their partners 👋🏻

[alittlepudge-neverhurtnobody]

kinktober #24

Ritual 🫀 / Wardrobe Woes 👕 (both!)

Ethan flops back on the chaise longue with a groan, one hand resting on the mound of his stomach beneath his waistcoat. “Oh, god,” he says, letting out a rumbling belch. “Excuse me, Miss Ives. Those men at the club know how to eat.”

“Oh, do they,” says Vanessa, closing her novel around a bookmark and getting up to perch on the edge of the chaise next to him. His eyes are closed, eyelashes resting long against his plump cheeks, and his face is flushed pink with effort. He’s been attending the fat men’s club in Chelsea for a few weeks now, and each time he returns to Grandage Place, he makes a similar scene for Vanessa. She’s quite sure it’s genuine, if the labor of his breathing and expansion of his waistline is anything to go by, but she appreciates his dedication to including her in his fun. 

“What was dinner tonight?” she asks, thumbing his straining buttons and gently undoing them. She’s taken to keeping a blanket draped over the back of the chaise to pull over Ethan should Sir Malcolm or Sembene come down to investigate the fuss, lest they think her indecent for exposing him so.

Ethan groans again, as if even the thought of dinner is enough to add more weight to his stomach. “So much. I wish I could bring you along, you’d just faint. There were chicken vol-au-vents, to start, and a beef consomme. Shrimp — I guess you’d call them prawns — in some herby sauce, I forget what it was.” He stifles another heavy belch in his fist. “Sorry. I’m so stuffed I can barely think.”

“You poor thing,” Vanessa soothes, rubbing gently at his overtaxed middle. “I’m sure it was irresistible.”

Ethan’s softening jaw doubles as he bobs his head. “Oh, cooked to perfection, all of it. Even well-seasoned. I had half a mind to go bother the cook about showing me how to make them myself.” He hiccups, a little whine chasing the sound. “And that’s not the half of it. There was curried lobster and rice, roasted pork with stuffing, mutton and vegetables, all with mashed potatoes and kale. Everything drowned in — hic — cream and butter and lard. Oh, and Yorkshire pudding. I thought I was going to burst, and that was before dessert and cheese.”

Carefully, demurely, Vanessa untucks his shirt from his trousers and unbuttons his fly to give him a bit more breathing room. “I’m certain they didn’t skimp on either.”

“Oh, no. Each table had a cheese plate the size of that coffee table. I don’t know how I was still eating, but I managed a lot of it. And plenty of — urrrp — dessert. Battenberg cake, bread and butter pudding, sponge pudding with syrup, trifle with plums … I could barely waddle to my carriage by the end of the night. And I — hic — think I need to get my pants let out again. These are starting to get snug.”

Vanessa, doing everything in her considerable power to keep her hands from slipping beneath his undershirt to feel the plush give of his skin and hard bloat of his stomach, swallows with effort. “You must have one of your companions refer you to a tailor used to working with men of size. I rather think the one we usually see has tired of our antics.”

Vanessa has accompanied Ethan to have his clothes let out on several occasions already, puffing up with increasing pride at the tailor’s increasingly snide remarks about how well-fed he must be. As perversely satisfying as it is for her, it can’t be altogether pleasant for Ethan, especially at the rate at which he’s been gaining weight — and, she hopes, the rate at which he’ll continue. His soft stomach sags over his waistband now, hugged on either side by his braces — suspenders, Ethan calls them — and his hips and thighs have widened into what she can only describe as a pear shape. Even his upper arms strain the sleeves of his shirts, and from what she’s gathered, he looks most comfortable in the soft, less structured clothes he sleeps in, fewer snug seams to bite into his plump flesh.

Ethan raises his head slightly, his warm brown eyes heavy-lidded. “Actually, I was going to ask you about that.”

“About finding a tailor?” she asks, tracing circles on his stomach over his undershirt.

“No, about — maybe this is foolish, I’m not sure.” 

Vanessa, curiosity piqued, cocks her head. “Yes?”

“I wanted to ask you,” he says, stomach jumping with a hiccup, “if that’s something you could do, with your … abilities. It’d save us a number of trips into town, and it might be easier if I keep growing.”

“Oh,” she says, surprised. “I’m not sure. I’ve never tried to — my powers have never seemed domestically inclined, you understand. Far more repelling the devil than darning socks. But … I’m sure there are spells or some such for it. Surely someone else with these powers has existed with a much more mundane fate than I.”

“Just something to think about,” he says. “And call me crazy, but I’d enjoy being at your mercy a hell of a lot more than some smug fellow with something disparaging to say.”

Vanessa laughs. “I’ll see what I can find.”

“Perfect,” he says, eyes closed again. “And — Vanessa?”

“Yes?”

“You can touch,” he says with a drowsy smile. “I don’t mind.”

“I am touching,” says Vanessa, drawing circles.

“You know what I mean,” he says, taking her hand gently and slipping it beneath the cotton of his undershirt. “This is hardly the most indecent thing about everything else we’ve been up to.”

“I suppose,” she says, with the barest minimum amount of proper hesitation. He’s so soft that her mind whites out the instant her fingertips make contact with the plush fat at his waist. Ethan exhales with something that sounds like pleasure.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he murmurs. “Help me get up to bed? You can stay a while if you’d like.”

“May I touch you again?”

Ethan’s lips curve into a smile. “Of course.”

— 

Ethan’s weight climbs steadily, what with all the good meals he’s receiving at the club and Vanessa’s own supplementary stream of baked goods and leftovers. By the time he’s reached twenty-one stone, barely any of his clothes fit him comfortably, everything straining or creaking or on the verge of bursting. His shirts no longer span his heavy waist, and most of his pants are threatening to lose their buttons — or worse, their seams — when confronted with the expanse of his hips and backside. Even the inseams of his trousers are beginning to pill from how heavily his thighs rub together. And, of course, the constraints of his clothes make movement more uncomfortable, so he grows more sedentary as he eats, loath to test the limits of his closet any further.

Vanessa, for her part, has been keeping her nose to the grindstone, spending hours in Malcolm’s library with every vaguely supernatural tome she can find to see if there’s some ritual she can tweak to serve their needs. She longs for the wealth of knowledge stowed in the cabin on the moors — surely Joan knew some way to expand clothing for use in maternity or rheumatism — but it would take days to get out there, and she’s not at all sure that she’d prefer to go alone, and Ethan is quite involved in his work at the club, so — she reads. Evening after evening, as Ethan works through his post-dinner meal or as she waits for him to return home, she makes attempts on a basket of rags she sweet-talked out of Sembene, but nothing useful has emerged yet.

“Why are you still eating like this?” she asks Ethan suddenly, frustrated after a promising charm results in nothing but split cloth. “You’re well beyond the weight minimum, and they’re feeding you exceptionally well at the club. Surely it would be easier to slow your intake?”

Ethan shrugs and catches a hiccup in his fist. “The club’s great for maintaining my size, but there’s one pretty notable downside.”

Vanessa waits, one slim eyebrow arched. 

“You’re not there with me,” Ethan says, as if it should be obvious. “Sure, it’s great eating these huge gourmet meals and all, but watching you get hot and bothered about it’s half the fun. If you don’t mind my saying so.”

Vanessa almost laughs. “You’re doing this on my account?”

Ethan grins. “I mean, I’m doing some for the vampire job. But I realized some time ago that now that I’m in at the club, I probably don’t need to keep eating at quite this capacity. But you make such cute faces when I do. And then you asked if you could touch me, and I wasn’t going to say no to that —”

“You’re unbelievable,” says Vanessa, though she’s laughing. “You wouldn’t even need a tailor so badly if you weren’t so inclined to play the wanton.”

Something changes in Ethan’s grin, from good-natured to almost coy. “I don’t know if I can stop myself now,” he teases. “I’ve got quite the appetite to satisfy.”

With some difficulty, he sits up straighter, his belly rolling into his lap. He’s quite fat now, and she never tires of how it colors his movements, how he’s grown aware of how to spread his legs to give himself more room to bloat, how it takes him a couple of tries to lever himself off the sofa when he’s overfull. Tonight he’s made prodigious work of the leftover mince pies and custard tarts Vanessa squirreled away for him after dinner, and she can see his bloat high at the crest of his stomach, before it gives way to softness. His trousers are unbuttoned, his sweater rucked up above his waistband for comfort, and he looks so deliciously debauched and overfed that she just wants to shove something else in his mouth.

“Yes,” says Vanessa, regarding with a cool remove that she hopes comes off as flirtatious rather than off-putting. “I think you’re far too gone to stop now. How could you deny yourself, after so much indulgence? You’d hardly last a day without stuffing yourself just to feel sated.”

Ethan whines, pausing with his whiskey halfway to his lips. “And where’d you get so good at that kind of talk, huh? All those books on witchcraft?”

“No, these are my own virtues, I’m afraid,” she returns wryly. “Though I will confess to finding you bewitching. Especially at that size, with something in that pretty mouth of yours.”

Ethan coughs mid-sip. “Miss Ives! And here I thought you were some kind of proper lady.”

“Oh, you know me better than that,” she says, abandoning her basket of rags and squeezes herself beside him on the chaise. “What can I say,” she murmurs, tracing the slope of his stomach into his lap. “You bring it out in me. There’s just something about a large, strong man such as yourself completely at the mercy of his appetite — his animal instincts, as it were — until his penchant for excess becomes so evident that he can no longer hide it.”

Ethan’s breathing is shallow in a way she suspects isn’t entirely from the glut of his diet. “I have put on a bit of weight, haven’t I?”

Vanessa exhales raggedly. “A bit?”

“Vanessa?” calls Sir Malcolm from upstairs, and both of them freeze. “What are you still doing up?”

With practiced speed, Vanessa yanks the blanket from the back of the chaise and tosses it over Ethan’s bulging midsection. Ethan straightens as much as he can, one hand pressed to his protesting stomach, and schools his face into a neutral expression. By the time Malcolm looms in the doorway of the sitting room, they’re both arranged naturally in separate chairs, nothing but their glasses of liquor on the coffee table.

“Mr. Chandler and I were just discussing some of his findings from the club,” she says, mostly smoothly. “The vampire faction seems quite well-embedded in the social fabric of London, so we’ve been puzzling out possible motives or next moves.”

“Ah,” says Malcolm, eyes sliding between them with a tinge of suspicion. “Shall I join you?”

Ethan stifles a belch. “Just wrapping up, Sir Malcolm. I can barely keep my eyes open.”

“And besides,” Vanessa hurries to add, “we haven’t come up with much, anyway. Better for us all to get some sleep and resume in the morning.”

“All right,” says Malcolm slowly. “In the morning, then. I’ll have Sembene call on our doctor and Mr. Lyle.”

Vanessa nods and smiles benignly, holding her face stiffly until Malcolm turns back to the stairs. The moment he’s out of sight, her gaze meets Ethan’s, wide and stimulated.

“My room?” he offers in a low voice. “Ten minutes?”

“Yes,” agrees Vanessa, with perhaps too much fervor. “Ten minutes. There’s still more custard in the icebox. Shall I bring it?”

Ethan raises an eyebrow. “Do you have to ask?”

— 

Finally, she finds something suitable in a book full of cloaked language around keeping resources plentiful at sea, what seems to be a spell for lengthening rope indefinitely, and then something supplementary in a compendium of medical spellwork she recognizes from Joan’s own collection. If she can figure out some way to combine the two, if it works the way she guesses it will, then she should be able to charm Ethan’s clothes to expand with him.

And — Vanessa is loath to take the Lord’s name in vain, but by God, does he need it. He’s fairly overflowing his trousers, his stomach hanging heavily over his waistbands and untucking his shirts and sweaters with its sheer heft. She estimates he’s put on at least half a stone since they last weighed him, maybe a bit more. His bulk jiggles when he moves, and he seems to always be a bit out of breath now. Probably with a bit of conditioning, they could get him back into shape despite his size — and perhaps they should, considering his role in their work — but for now, while he’s simply gathering information, Vanessa relishes the little markers of how much bigger his body is now, how unused to his new weight. She loves to watch him navigate Grandage Place, with its bevy of furniture, antiques, and end tables; his stomach bumps trinkets and vases he clearly thought he made of a berth around, his hips catch in the narrow spaces between furniture pieces, his backside spreads over more and more of the sofa. If he’s not careful, his belly will soon bump the dinner table from his seat. 

She meets him in his room one evening as he’s coming back from washing up, hair damp and stomach still overfull from dinner and dessert. “Miss Ives,” he says, a note of surprise lingering in his voice, and she smiles up at him.

“Do you have a moment? I think I may have found a solution to your — clothing problems.”

“For you?” he says, returning her smile. “I’ve got all night.”

She instructs him to put on one of the shirts that no longer fits him, and he stands before her in his undershirt, his collared shirt hanging unbuttoned on either side of his gut. 

“If I try to button it, it’ll burst before you have time to say your abracadabra or what have you,” he warns, and she tugs it around his belly as far as it will go, which isn’t much.

“All right. I had hopes, but I suppose you’ve outgrown them a bit.”

She has him stand before her and then she balls the edges of his shirt tightly in her fists, murmuring the words she pulled from the books and focusing all her intention in his direction. She imagines Ethan growing plumper, plumper still, and his clothes growing with him, wrapping the curves and bulges of his body with properly fitted menswear that will never strain or tug or burst. 

When she opens her eyes, the shirt hangs undeniably longer around Ethan’s plump waist. Carefully, she pulls both sides together, and while the fabric hugs his round belly, it certainly fits. She’s able to do up every button with a bit of room to spare, and she can’t help but beam as she looks up at Ethan.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” she asks, and he grins back at her.

“You’re magical, Miss Ives. Not that that’s anything new, but it does bear repeating.” He smoothes a hand down the curve of his belly and admires himself in the mirror. “I don’t think even the tailor could do as smart a job as that.”

“Tomorrow we can go through the rest of your clothes,” she says, stepping behind him in the mirror. Gently, he takes her arms and pulls them around his waist, and she presses her cheek to his broad, soft back, eyes slipping shut with bliss.

“Now, Miss Ives,” he teases, and she savors the vibration of his voice against her. “You’re not at all worried that this gives me carte blanche to keep satisfying that gluttonous appetite of mine, are you?”

“Not in the least,” says Vanessa into his back. “In fact, I encourage it.”

Ethan grins into the mirror. “You’re on.”

[yourlocalsonia2]

My shitty headcanons for Nicktoons unite

Drumroll please 🥁🥁🥁🥁

Jimmy Neutron

When the group first met, he was 13

His is currently 16 and the second youngest

he's also 5'7

He was kind of a bitch for most of their first adventure, but eventually became nicer to the group

His full name is James issac Neutron

there was a time when he convinced the group into thinking his last name was Newton but someone misspelled his name on his birth certificate

when he was 14 he gave himself cybernetic implants just in case he was ever in an emergency +he didn't tell anyone (this is inspired by choraa)

sometimes when he is alone he'll use the arms/implants doc ock style

the longest time he slept was 1 hour, 58 minutes and 26 seconds

he basically lives off of energy drinks and shit

he also is anemic (iron deficient) and he doesn't know

there are a lot of times when he doesn't have his ice cream looking hairstyle bc he doesn't have time to do it, or he'll just forget

after becoming friends with Nicktoons, he became a better person and treated Carl decently and people were scared (including Carl)

his main weapon is his inventions (think of whatever)

he knows 10+ languages (English. French, Spanish, German, Mandarin, Greek, Latin, Italian, Swedish and Dutch) and a few alien languages

he's gay and he thought he liked Cindy

even though he did date Cindy for a while, he did break up with her bc their relationship was falling apart (they were literally never meant to be. THEIR RELATIONSHIP WAS GOING TO FAIL AT SOME POINT. THE BOAT WILL SINK)

Timmy Turner

Watch out y'all, I don't know shit about the Fairly Oddparents lore

His full name is Timothy Thomas Turner (haha t.t.t)

he is the shortest and the youngest of the group

he met the group when he was 12

he is currently 15 and 5'6 and a 1/2

he kinda thinks of Cosmo and Wanda as his parents and not just God parents

he is poof's older brother

he has a normal sleep schedule but he is also narcoleptic

he has ADHD and doesn't take his meds out of spite (no one knows why lmao)

he is trans (ftm)

he is bisexual with a preference for men

he may or may not have had a crush on all the members (he got over all of them except for Jimmy)

his main weapon is gun(s) both Wanda and cosmo are guns (DUEL GUNS)

his other weapon would be a bat with nails

he has a hard time with schoolwork and is really stressed about school

he has a few scars on his body from Vicky

he LOVES sugar

he enjoys using pet names on people (specifically Jimmy) to get them annoyed or embarrassed

Daniel Fenton / Danny Phantom

He is the second oldest and second tallest

he is currently 17 and 5'7

he was 14 when they first met

when the group first got together, he tried to hide Phantom's identity from them until SpongeBob told him that he knows

he can be very nice then very threatening in a snap

he tries not to sleep bc he has a lot of nightmares from his adventures

he is probably the most powerful in the group

him and SpongeBob have the ideal friendship

he makes a lot of puns and stupid references

he has anxiety

he has panic attacks not that often and it's kinda alarming for the rest of the group

he is a bit self sacrificial bc he is already half-dead

ON THE TOPIC OF HALF DEAD- he is not affected by stab wounds

his blood is green

he is planning for a day when Jimmy and Tucker meet up and they can be "science-y" together

he didn't tell anyone in his universe about his time with Nicktoons, one day they did come to see him and everyone was confused

he is very protective over the people he loves

there will be times where he'll throw up or have green goo leak from his eyes (tgs Henry Jekyll style)

his family is his parents, Jazz, Daniel (future him) and Dani (younger female clone)

SpongeBob / Bob

He is the oldest at 25

he first met them when he was 19

aroace king over here

He is a shapeshifter.

His main two forms are his normal self (sponge) and his human form

he first met the group as a sponge and didn't tell them about his abilities and they found out bc one day he accidentally turned into a human in front of them and their reactions went like this

Jimmy: *shocked, wide eyed*

Timmy: *gaw dropped, flabbergasted*

Danny: oh my god....YOU GREW, SPONGEBOB!!

After that he would spend more time as a human

he is 5'9 as a human and 4'5 as a sponge

he has the fucking hammer as his weapon bc why not

he is "glue" of the group and kinda the mom too

he is strongest in the physical strength category (he's the type of guy to hug you but then pick you up and spin you like a parent would to a baby"

he is actually a good therapist and helping the others

he'll help Danny after or during his panic attacks, he will make Jimmy sleep for once and sometimes hide his energy drinks, he'll try his best to help Timmy with his schoolwork

he is a great cook and will make for the gang

he is overworked and underpaid (I love Mr. Krabs but please pay your workers the money they deserve)

he has ADHD and autism

he pays really good attention to the others and knows there's something worth in a snap (like if Danny had a nightmare the night before, SpongeBob will know the next morning bc of how Danny acts)

Shared

They've all seen the horrors

found family found family found family found family

they've all had a crush on at least one other member (not spongebob tho)

during meals someone will tell stories of what happened in their world

they all split up after volcano island (they got back together bc of the third and fourth game) also it was still the main four during the other games (no extra side characters)

they had a split for a few years but SB brought them back together

they have this set of rules for their house

the house is in Jimmy's universe btw

Danny and Timmy both unironically got "shoo whap shoo whap ain't no lovin' my man" stuck in their heads

Jimmy's parents adore the group (not even knowing they are from other universes)

Timmy unironically calls Shirley his son and Jimmy caught on (SB and Danny are honorary uncles)

[mymagicgrandpa]

Chapter 18: Nightmare Inferno - Page 10

Chapter Synopsis: A student at Suzie's school seems to be losing sleep from a supernatural force! Suzie is determined to help, but first she has to figure out what's causing him issues.

Author Comment: The geometry teacher is based on a real teacher I had who dressed like a fabulous flamboyant cowboy and had poodles and sponge bob all over his classroom, and students often referred to him as "the gayest straight man we'd ever known". He made math really fun.

My Magic Grandpa is a paranormal fantasy adventure that takes place in the 90s, please check it out and spread the word if you like it

Want to have a more phone friendly viewing of the comic? Check out mymagicgrandpa.net or look for My Magic Grandpa on Tapas or Webtoons!

[slaughtergutz]

The reference photo you had was of a saw fishy, please enjoy the arlong saw shark I made a couple of years back as a joke. You can tell them apart real easy by their little barbells, saw sharks have a moustache and sawfish do not(they’re also rays, not fish!)

And now I’m getting angst thoughts about how

Davey is treated vs nami is treated🥲🥲🥲

And also arlong might not allow sponge bob in his house but he can’t control what happens in mine🤣

well i LOVE that and wait they

hhang on

if shbdjnkfg if Arlong had a mustache would he hdjbnfkgmlh wear it like this or hgbjnkml,;

hsdjbnkhadbjhahahahahahahahaha

He definitely treated him better in comparison but Arlong wasn't the best parent (could really barely say he raised him tbh)--especially considering he was pretty young when Davey was born so he was both a jackass and a dumbass. Davey would only be a few years older than Nami I think, maybe things could've been different if he was still alive by then..