#holding hands with mothman

[lavenoon]

No no see I've cracked the code - @naffeclipse costume party episode, Cryptid!Y/N go brr

And bonus because I'm not evil:

[spaghettibaseddreams]

I'm not a monster fucker, I am a monster canoodler. I want to engage in amorous embracing, caressing, and smooching with the minotaur after giving him a whole spa treatment and then put flowers on his head.

[patchypines]

Here's a detective Mothman character of mine- his name is Detective Locke Santiano, I just call him Locke. He works with Homicide and missing persons and winds up bumping into a handful of @crypticpuzzlebox 's characters. I initially made him quickly for a little spin-off thing where he would pop into a scene with his Bigfoot partner in crime who works with him to ask questions about a missing person and leave the scene but I kinda fell in love with him and now heavily ship him with my friend's silly Conspiracy theorist character Harlo.

[xenolinn]

Person: If you can marry anyone on this Earth who-

Me: Mothman.

[pyreshe]

honestly, i keep seeing l.uigi and b.owser as a ship and that is so fucking funny to me.

[auphelia]

Embroidered mothman makeup bag!! Because we all need some more cryptid in our lives

[clockwayswrites]

Die Screaming, Live Laughing

Danny/Tim, Cyan, Wind through tree branches/Windchimes @wisteriavines @darkstarsapocalypse (I saw you before you changed that! Twins!)

cw:bar parent fentons, more temporary character death, bones

The faint, mechanical whir under his fingertips as he spins the camera lens comforts Tim. The fiddling is familiar from the years of following Bats and crime across the city. The rooftops of Gotham are an environment that he’s far more familiar with than here. Here is nothing but endless trees and leaves.

Well, somewhere here is also the campgrounds and Bernard, Ives, Steph, and Cass; but that’s far out of sight and almost out of mind. It’s easy, as he listens to the wind rustle through the trees, to feel like nothing exists but the trees and Tim and his camera.

He spins the lens again.

Ostensibly, the four of them are in these woods to find Mothman. Which would be cool! But even Tim, who proposed this whole thing, knows that it’s just an excuse for the four of them to do something away from Gotham. To do something to make actual use of their summer between high school and college.

If Tim went to college, that is.

He’d been accepted, sure, but he… he just didn’t know if he wanted to. It felt like there were more important things to be doing than college. College was sitting in a classroom and listening to someone drone on about a subject that Tim could crash course himself on with the right library access in a month. It also meant new people and new noises and maybe even a new home. None of that sounds great, really. Moving in with Bruce to Wayne Manor had been enough change, thank you very much.

Tim’s foot catches on something and he does a half step to keep his balance. He expects to see a tree root when he glances down. It’s bone instead. That’s not… unexpected. They had already seen deer in the woods, the creatures got stupidly close to the campsite. It would make sense that with the big rains the few weeks before, there could have been old remains uncovered. But there’s something…

The dirt brushes away easily from the surface of the bone and, with a little digging, Tim is able to pull it free of the earth.

This isn’t a deer bone.

Tim knows this shape.

This is human. A femur.

“You have to be careful where you’re walking out here.”

Tim stands and spins, the femur held like his staff would be.

The speaker is leaning against a tree several feet away. The golden, setting sun backlights them, making them look almost angelic with how they’re wreathed in light. They’re hard to look at.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Tim says, plastering on a nervous smile that was only half for show. How did they sneak up on him? That should have been impossible with the leaves and branches scattered across the forest floor. “Do you run into animal skeletons a lot out here?”

“Not really,” they say with a shrug before they start forward towards Tim. Their steps are silent. “I don’t really get around. And also, that’s not an animal skeleton.”

“No?” Tim’s grip on the femur tightens. “How do you know that?”

“How? Well, that’s because it’s mine!”

Tim swings.

The femur goes right through the stranger.

“Sorry! Little intense, I get it!” They back up a step and raise their arms. The dappled sunlight shines right through their hand. Shines right through them like the stranger is just made out of gossamer. “I get it, but be careful with that, please? It’s my arm! Or leg? No, leg.”

“Leg, it’s a femur,” Tim says, his mouth running without him as his brain works.

“Leg. Ancients, I miss having legs. And arms… and, well, anything solid really,” the stranger sighs. “I am sorry for scaring you. Just… it’s hard not to get a little intense when someone is holding one of my bones, you know?”

“Oh shit! That’s right, sorry,” Tim stammers as he hurries to put the femur back down on the disturbed earth. “Do you— I mean, should I rebury it? Did the rains washing away the earth, um, wake you up?”

“Kinda?” They tilt their head as they crouch down next to Tim.

It’s clear now, as they move a bit out of the light, how transparent they are. It’s like in the shadow they lose tangency. Their hair is still just as blinding, being bright white in a way that’s really beautiful. They reach out to touch the femur but stop short.

“I’m tied to my bones. It’s why they dumped them all the way out here. After they killed me, I mean, all the way killed me, I haunted the fuck out of them. And yeah, sure, they could hurt this form of me too, but I always found a way out and then it all started again. Burying my bones was the only way to get rid of me, and those fuckers didn’t even scratch me a headstone in the tree or anything. Some parents, huh?”

“Holy— yeah,” Tim says. Looking back down at the other partially exposed bones he has to swallow back a wave of sadness. “Is that a yes to covering them up?”

“Actually… I’d like you to dig them up. I’m not stupid enough to think I’ll get justice or whatever, but I’d… I’d like to be somewhere proper and under my name.”

“What is it? Your name?”

“Danny.”

“Okay, Danny,” Tim gives a little nod and starts digging. “My friends and I will get you somewhere you feel safe. I’m Tim, by the way.”

“Thank you, Tim.”

Danny doesn’t help dig. He can’t, he explains as Tim and him talk. While his bones are buried, he’s not able to interact with them or else he would have gotten them out of there a long time ago. They learn together that as soon as the bones are free and set gently aside that Danny can touch them.

Tim never thought he’d see someone so emotional over a tibia, but Tim can’t blame the guy. Tim figures he’d be emotional over his own bones too.

The big bones are the easiest. The ribs Tim is extra careful with. The fingers are weirdly like peanut shells in his hand. (He’s not going to eat pb&j for weeks now.) Danny chats the whole time, asking Tim about the world. Tim feels wholly inadequate to catch someone up like that, but when conversation turns to technology Tim settles into a rhythm.

It also lets them figure out that while Danny died just shy of nineteen, he’s apparently spent almost two decades in the ground. He still looks just shy of nineteen. He looks like he should be in the forest for the same reason that Tim is, celebrating the end of one era and the start of the next. Danny should be looking to the future, not mourning it.

It makes Tim pause when he finally unearths Danny’s skull. What would it have been like to see Danny smile? To hear him laugh without that faint echoing quality that he has as a ghost? To touch him?

“I’m sorry,” Tim says and holds out the skull. Danny’s skull.

“Thank you,” Danny whispers. His hands tremble as he reaches out towards the skull. He crumples forward before he can touch it, a sob tearing through him.

“I’ll make sure you’re somewhere nice.

“Thank you.” Danny lets out a breath he doesn’t have and sags forward the last inch. His forehead bumps against the skull.

Then he keeps going forward.

The world explodes into light.

-

“Tim?!”

“Are you sure he’s still alive?”

“You can see him breathing, Bernard.”

“Pulse.”

“Tim!”

Tim gasps awake and blinks rapidly to clear his vision. His friends and sister stand clustered above him. It has gotten dark and their flashlights are blinding.

“You okay?” Cass asks.

“Ow.”

“Yeah, he’s okay,” Steph sighs. “Hey Tim, who the fuck is that?”

“Wha—” Fuck his head hurts. Who the fuck is who?

Oh, the person laying in his arms. The person who’s solid and warm and alive.

Tim starts laughing.

“Okay, maybe a little not okay,” Steph amends.

“Is he ever?” Tim hears Ives mutter.

“Guys,” Tim interrupts them discussing his status once he can breathe again. “This? This is Danny.”

“Being alive again hurts,” Danny mumbles against Tim’s neck and Tim can’t help it, he just starts laughing again.

Being alive does hurt, but fuck if that isn’t wonderful sometimes.

---

AN: So this one got away from me a little but, uh... tada? I was planing to have it all explained more, but once Danny didn't purposefully do it, that didn't fit. Basically all if his frankly absurd powers and as a ghost got jump started by his skull and Tim's lifeforce and tada? 100% pulled some from Tim's Gotham Knights character where he's an awkward little bean who is so not neurotpyical. Him and Bernard taking a vacation to hunt Mothman is from that too.

Anyways, stay delightful, darlings!

[belleski]

this is one of my favourite scenes in all of Taz and i've wanted to draw something for it for ages now but then this took almost 6 months to finish because i had to keep stopping to figure out character designs aaaaaaaaaa

Indrid Cold my favourite guy of all time

Image description: A two page digital comic depicting a scene from The Adventure Zone – Amnesty where the player characters (Duck, Ned and Aubrey) meet Indrid Cold (the mothman.) The entire comic is drawn in shades of red with yellow highlights. Page 1: A smaller panel shows the interior of a camper van, with Indrid cast in shadows, reaching towards a scrap of paper on the wall. Behind him, Duck, Ned and Aubrey watch in confusion. The next panel is of Indrid from behind, silhouetted against the bright red of the wall holding dozens of pinned sheets over a map of Kepler. He is holding up the now removed scrap of paper in one hand and smiling, the yellow paper and his glasses standing out against the darkness. There is a yellow speech bubble coming from him that says ‘Okay.’ The last panel takes up most of the page and shows Duck, Ned and Aubrey reacting in shock to Indrid’s statement. The speech bubbles continue: ‘The funicular that connects topside and riverside is about to come crashing down the mountain, slamming into town, and destroying the base station.’. Behind the three players, there is a funicular train climbing a mountain – the full scale of which is shown behind it. Page two: Yellow text in the top left and right corners reads: ‘There are three passengers on it right now, they’ll all be killed- With two circular panels depicting three people on the funicular in one, and a man reading a newspaper in the other – his radio discarded on the table in front of him. Below these panels the text continues, first in yellow with: ‘-and an engineer at the base station will be injured as well, but he’ll pull through.’ And then in two red circular speech bubbles: ‘Good news though! You have six minutes this time.’ The two red speech bubbles surround Indrid as he faces the viewer with a grin, his eyes completely obscured by his red circular glasses. In one hand, he holds out the scrap of paper – a drawing of a funicular train falling down a mountain now visible on it, and behind him the wall is covered in scraps of paper that fade into the darkness of the background. [End ID]

[klm-zoflorr]

So, I was rewatching Poison, as you do, banger song amirite, and i noticed a lil' something in the voxval scene...

So, Vox is there with his boytoy, having fun times, hand holding before marriage like some kind of little whore. Anyways. He spots Angel aka his bf's main side piece, and his face drops

But then he looks back at Val just before he leaves and I AM SORRY BUT THIS EXPRESSION IS SO FUCKING FOND

ARE YOU PERHAPS LOOKING FONDLY ON YOUR HORRIBLE MOTHMAN OF A BOYFRIEND WHILE HE ISN'T LOOKING MY DUDE MY BUDDY MY BRO

Your honor he is so in love

[solarmorrigan]

The Ass of Legend

For the @steddie-spooktober day 20 prompt: Cryptid Rated: T | Words: 776 | CW: None | Tags: established relationship, modern AU, Robin Buckley and Steve Harrington are best friends, Eddie doesn't get paid enough to deal with them Divider credit: @saradika

Eddie swears, fumbling and nearly dropping the soapy pan in his hands as Steve’s voice calling from the living room pulls him from his dishwashing fugue state.

He doesn’t sound hurt or alarmed, nothing that would be any cause for concern, but his tone does have that petulant lilt to it that says he wants Eddie’s attention and he won’t give up until he gets it – not that he normally has to fight for it, but Eddie is busy.

“They complain that I don’t do the dishes, then they distract me while I’m trying to do the dishes,” Eddie grumbles as he snaps off the water and strips his dish gloves off. “Need to make up their damn minds.” He stomps out into the living room (as well as he can stomp with just socks on his feet) and finds Steve and Robin sitting on the couch, both staring at Robin’s laptop. “What.” he asks flatly.

Steve looks up, jabbing a finger in Robin’s direction. “Tell Robin I have a better ass than Mothman.”

“No,” Robin says, shooting a narrow-eyed look at Steve, “tell Steve that Mothman has a better ass than him.”

Eddie stares at the both of them for a moment. “What.”

Steve sighs. “I said, tell Robin–”

“No, I heard you,” Eddie cuts in, holding a hand up. “I just– Why are you even– How the fuck am I supposed to know what Mothman’s ass looks like?”

Giving him a look that says this should be entirely obvious, Robin flips her laptop around, the screen of which is covered with– ah. The Point Pleasant Mothman statue. Rather, a closeup of the Point Pleasant Mothman statue’s ass, which is, admittedly, bizarrely well-sculpted.

Eddie glances from the screen, up to Robin, over to Steve, and back again. “I’m… not sure I want to weigh in on this.”

“Ha!” Robin crows. “He didn’t immediately take your side, that means he thinks Mothman’s ass is better!”

“No! No, no,” Eddie says, pointing a finger at Robin. “I didn’t say that, don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Then why don’t you just tell Steve you agree with him?” Robin asks smugly.

“Yeah, Eddie, why don’t you just tell me you agree with me?” Steve chimes in, and Eddie wonders how he suddenly became the center of their argument.

“It’s just that Mothman is a known harbinger of death and disaster.” Eddie holds up his hands in surrender. “I feel like claiming you have a better ass than him is the kind of hubris that precedes getting cursed by the gods.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Okay, Mothman isn’t a god–”

“Still.” Eddie shrugs.

“–and he also isn’t here right now, so I’m pretty sure you can tell me my ass is nicer without fear of getting cursed.”

“I dunno, Steve,” Robin hums. “There’ve been sightings of Mothman in Germany, Japan, Ukraine – all over the world. Who’s to say he’s not in Indiana?”

“All the shit that’s gone down here? I’m pretty sure if Mothman was going to show, he would have by now,” Steve deadpans, and Robin tilts her head with a roll of her eyes that says she reluctantly concedes his point.

“Unless we’re drawing his attention since we’ve said his name so many times,” Eddie says.

“No, I think that might be Bloody Mary,” Robin replies, and Steve huffs.

“Okay, regardless – look at it this way:” he says, turning to Eddie, “if you think Mothman has a better ass, you can drag yours all the way down to Virginia–”

“West Virginia,” Robin corrects.

“Whatever. You can go all the way down there and touch the statue’s ass, because you’re not gonna be touching mine,” Steve concludes.

And that’s just cruel. That’s fighting dirty. Steve knows Eddie will do anything for continued ass-touching privileges.

“Welp.” Eddie claps his hands together. “You heard it here first: Steve’s ass is better than Mothman’s.”

“Ha!” Steve exclaims, practically bouncing on the couch in excitement. “Told you!”

Robin groans, snapping her laptop shut. “That doesn’t count. Eddie’s biased and you cheated.”

“I did not cheat,” Steve sniffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“He’s right, it’s not cheating,” Eddie agrees. “He just used his assets.”

Robin and Steve stare at him.

“Get it?” Eddie asks with a grin. “Ass–”

“Boo,” Robin calls out, pulling a tissue from the nearby box with express purpose of balling it up to throw at him. It unballs and lands sadly on the coffee table two feet in front of her. “Go finish the dishes, you absolute goon.”

Eddie sighs, turning back to the kitchen. His contributions are woefully underappreciated around here.

[these-lovely-monsters]

The Sweetest Nectar

[NSFW | 18+]

Characters: m!mothman x f!reader

Content: aphrodisiac, oral (f!receiver), p in v, mating, claiming

A/N: In classic fashion, this started out as drabble and ended up being waaayyy longer than intended. Oops 🤷‍♀️

#19 Wings from @ozzgin’s Monstertober 2024 prompt list

⋆ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ⋆

You've been working the graveyard shift at the mall for a few months now. Whenever you're on break, you like to go down to the park nearby and watch the moon and stars twinkling above. The vastness of it all is mesmerizing and you've always wondered what it's like up there in the sky. 

Tonight is no different as you huddle into your coat, trying to stay warm in the cool night air while munching on a sandwich. Just like every other night this week, you spot the pair of glowing red eyes watching you from the darkness of the trees. When you first saw them, you were terrified and your heart nearly stopped. You could just barely make out a massive figure hunched in the darkness and you knew, instinctually, it was a monster of some kind. 

But as you held your breath, waiting for the creature to attack, they never did. They just stayed there, watching from a distance. After a while, you figured they didn’t mean you any harm and decided to let them be. Just because they’re a monster doesn’t mean they’re dangerous. You’ve seen what true monsters look like and it has nothing to do with being inhuman. Soon, you grew to find their watchful presence comforting in the lonely nights.  

Tonight, you’re feeling particularly bold and decide that it’s time to say hi to your silent monster. Setting down your sandwich, you wave to the shadows and call out for them to join you. The bright crimson orbs blink for a moment and then disappear. You wait patiently until they reappear again a minute later.  

“You…want me to come closer?” A deep, hesitant voice emanates from the shadows. The sound is nothing like you’ve ever heard before. It’s inhuman and has a buzzing quality as if it’s coming from a broken stereo. 

“Yeah,” you say, patting the seat next to you. “Come sit with me.” 

The eyes blink again and you see the faint outline of its head cock to the side. Then, ever so slowly, the figure starts to creep forward, easing out of the shadows and into the bright moonlight. 

You gape in awe at the giant masculine creature that stands before you. He has a thick chest with a tapered waist and long spindly legs that bend backwards at the knees, much like a bird’s. He also appears to be covered in a sort of black fuzz that you instantly want to run your hands through. When he cocks his head to the side again, you notice two feather-like antennae bobbing above him.  

Mothman! You think, not entirely surprised that he’s actually real. Even though you’re not afraid of him, a thrill runs through you at being so close to such a legendary cryptid. He’s also so much more beautiful than you thought he would be based on all the depictions you’ve seen. 

When he just stands there staring at you, you hold out your hand, beckoning him closer. You hear a little intake of surprise come from him before he tentatively approaches the picnic table and sits down beside you. You watch in fascination as his wide mouth splits open to reveal several rows of razor sharp teeth in a terrifying smile. 

“So, how long have you been watching me?” You ask, smirking at the way his antennae flatten back on his head as he looks away. 

“A while…” He replies vaguely. 

You smile at his sheepishness. “Hmm, have you now?” He just jerks his shoulder in an awkward shrug, still unable to meet your gaze. Deciding to cut him some slack, you change the subject. “Hey, can you fly?” 

“Of course!” he exclaims, puffing up his chest.  

With a woosh, a pair of massive wings spread out wide behind him as he shows them off. You can’t help but marvel at the gorgeous patterns. There are two sets on each side, one higher than the other. Black and brown rippling lines cover the edges and each wing has an eye-like circle in the middle. When he flutters them, it appears as if the eyes are winking at you. 

You laugh at his antics as you reach out to trace a finger along one of his wings. “What’s it like to fly? To be up there in the sky?” 

He shudders at your touch, staring down at you with an intense look in his eyes. Realizing what you were doing, you quickly pull your hand back and he exhales softly. 

Shaking his head slightly as if remembering your question, he asks, “Would you like me to show you?” 

Gasping in excitement, you nod eagerly. Without hesitation, he scoops you up in his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as he tucks you into his body. Large, slender hands grip you tight, pinpricks of pain sending shivers down your spine as claw-tipped fingers dig into your skin. You cling to his neck and bury your face into his chest. He’s unbelievably soft and warm and you think you could probably stay here forever if he’d let you. 

“Hold on tight,” is all he says before he leaps into the air, pumping his wings with enormous force and lifting you both into the air. 

Within moments, you’re soaring high up in the sky, the wind whipping your hair as the town below you shrinks in the distance. Your shout of excitement gets lost in the roar of the wind and your cheeks burn from how wide you’re smiling. He looks down at you, a twinkle in his eyes as he soaks in your joy. 

You fly together for what feels like hours as you watch the land below whizzing by, the people and buildings like tiny figurines on a playset. Eventually, you start to shiver from the cold, your clothes growing damp from the moisture in the icy wind. He seems to notice and begins to veer off towards a nearby mountain. 

Wondering where he’s taking you, you hold on tightly and watch as he begins to descend to a small cabin nestled in the mountainside forest. When he lands, he sets you down gently on the porch and then takes your hand, leading you inside. It’s a warm, and cozy space, filled with old wooden furniture and mismatched decor. 

He sets about lighting a fire as you sit shivering on the couch. When the hearth is blazing, he grabs a blanket and places it next to you. Slowly, and with gentle hands, he begins removing your cold, wet clothes. He looks at you, pausing as if waiting for you to push him away. But you have no intention of stopping him, utterly bewitched by this terrifying yet sweet creature and desperately wanting to see what he’ll do. 

Once he has all your clothes off, he drapes the warm blanket over your shoulders. Then he carefully picks you up off the couch and lays you on the plush fur rug in front of the fire. When he leans back as if to move away, you grab his hand, pulling him down until he’s kneeling between your spread legs. 

For a moment, he just stares down at you, watching the firelight flicker across your naked skin. Red and yellow flames illuminate your curves in a mesmerizing dance.  

“Are you sure you want this, little flower?” he asks in a voice that sounds strained. 

“Yes,” you whisper on a breathy moan, “I want you.” And it’s true. From the moment you saw him, you were intrigued. And now your body is buzzing from the thrill of flying, needing an outlet for all that excited energy. 

When he takes a deep breath and exhales it slowly, you gape at him as two long appendages gradually extend from the depths of the fuzz at his hips. They reach out and brush against your inner thighs and your legs twitch at the sensation. They’re covered in soft hairs and it tickles as they swirl around your skin. 

Soon, a tingling sensation spreads along your legs and then the rest of your body, making your muscles relax as warmth spreads through you. The room begins to swim around you and you grab hold of his arm to keep from floating away. The warmth of his body and the softness of his fuzz is like an anchor in the fog. At the sight of Mothman looming over you with lust filling his eyes, your pussy tightens in need and you groan, squirming on the blanket beneath him. 

His mouth opens on a pant as his chest rises and falls rapidly. As the two appendages at his hips begin to retreat into his body, a long, straw-like tongue unfurls from his parted lips and he bends down to drink up the sweat gathering at the hollow of your neck. A groan escapes him and he quickly shuffles downward, gripping your thighs and spreading them wide for his shoulders to fit between your legs.  

Without hesitation his tongue dips into your dripping core, sucking up your juices greedily. “Mmmh,” he growls in that buzzing voice, “you taste like the sweetest nectar.”  

You moan at the vibrations that ripple from his tongue against your entrance. He traces it upwards and begins to twirl the narrow tip around your clit, making you writhe at the intense, concentrated stimulation. The tip flicks at the sensitive bud, pressing and swirling around it with unerring precision. The zaps of pleasure mix with the weightless feeling of your body in a heady cocktail. 

After a few moments of teasing your clit, he moves his slender tongue back inside your pussy, plunging deeper this time until it flicks against your g-spot. You gasp and jerk at the foreign sensation. His tongue isn’t nearly girthy enough to give you the fullness you so desperately crave but the feeling of the probing, sucking tip curling around your inner walls is just as erotic. 

Soon, he moves back to your clit, repeating his earlier ministrations before returning to your pussy once more. He does this over and over, spending just enough time at each spot to bring you close to the brink before he switches back again. Before long you’re completely wound up, gasping and desperate to come. 

Between the warmth of the fire, the tingling along your skin, and his torture on your clit and g-spot, your body feels like a tightly wound coil, ready to explode. When he reaches up to pinch a nipple between two sharp claws, you do just that. Your back arches off the floor as your orgasm crashes into you and you cry out in ecstasy. Waves of pleasure wash over you as he draws the orgasm out as long as he can until you eventually slump to the floor, twitching with aftershocks. 

As you start to come back down, he slows his movements, gently lapping up the wetness that’s coursing down your thighs.  

“Mmm,” he hums against your sensitive core. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get enough of your sweet nectar”. 

Before you’ve fully caught your breath, he’s climbing back over you, nipping and sucking at your stomach, chest, and neck as if wanting to taste your pleasure everywhere. You moan at the sensations on your hot and overstimulated skin. When he leans back to sit on his heels, you gasp at the sight before you. 

Where there was once just fuzz, a massive length protrudes from his groin. It’s sort of like a cock but nothing like a human’s or anything you’ve ever seen before. It’s long and girthy and the shape is gnarled with bumps and whorls along its surface, almost like a dark gray tree branch. Your core clenches in desire as you watch his slender black fingers wrap around the length, stroking up and down a few times until a bead of sap-like precum wells up from a slit in the tip. 

With one hand, he holds your hip steady while the other guides his glistening tip to your entrance. Locking his bright ruby eyes with yours, he slowly pushes inside you, letting you feel every ridge and bump of his unusual cock slide along your walls. His lust-filled groan joins yours as you grip the furs above your head, gasping for air at the feeling of your walls being stretched impossibly wide. 

When he’s fully seated he pauses, letting you both catch your breaths for a moment. He places both forearms on either side of your head and leans down to press his forehead against yours, his warm exhales ghosting against your face.  

“So fucking tight,” he grits out, the strain of holding back evident in his voice. 

When your body begins to adjust to his size, your muscles relax and your pussy begins fluttering around him, clenching in need. 

He snarls at the sensation and quickly pulls out almost to the tip, then slams back in again in one swift motion. Your cries of pleasure echo against the walls as he begins to fuck you roughly into the rug, setting a brutal pace. With every thrust the gnarled bumps on his cock drag against your walls and your eyes roll back in your head. 

The wet sounds of your bodies colliding fill the small space as he takes what he wants from you. Each thrust is so forceful that your body begins to slide up the rug. He sits back on his heels again, lifting your hips up to wrap your legs around his waist. Digging his sharp claws into your ass, he uses the leverage to bury himself even deeper than before. 

With the new angle, his cock hits your g-spot perfectly on every thrust and your cries turn into sobs at the overwhelming bliss and you squeeze your eyes shut. Between the bolts of electricity shooting up your spine and the pricks of pain from his claws buried in your skin, you hurtle towards your orgasm.  

Feeling your walls beginning to clamp down, he snarls, “Look at me.” Your eyes flutter open and he pins you with his gaze. “There you are. Such a pretty petal.” 

At his words the dam bursts and you careen over the edge, your screams filling the room as you take him with you. He roars in pleasure and his hips begin to stutter. Your walls ripple, milking him as his hot cum spurts inside you, filling you up until it seeps out around his throbbing cock. Your orgasms drag on for what feels like forever and you get lost in the intoxicating haze of ecstasy. 

When you finally drift back down from your high, he slumps down on top of you, draping his large form over you but taking care not to crush you with his weight. After several moments of contented silence, you almost drift off to sleep from the warmth of his body and the crackling fire. But you’re roused from your half-conscious state when he sits up and gathers you in his arms, tucking you into his lap as he leans back against the foot of the couch. 

With a rustle, his wings unfurl from his back and drape around you, cocooning you in a soft embrace as a plume of powder puffs into the air. You watch as it drifts in the firelight and settles on your skin.  

Running your finger through the powder coating your arm, you turn to look at him in curiosity. “What is this?” 

Sheepishly he replies, “It’s a…mating dust.” He drops your gaze as he looks into the fire. “For creatures like me, wings are very sensitive and intimate and we only allow mates to touch them. The dust is a way of marking you so that others know who you belong to…” 

Mating dust? 

You should balk at the idea of being marked like that but you can’t seem to bring yourself to be annoyed. In fact, you kind of like the idea of belonging to someone. You took comfort in his watchful presence all those lonely nights in the dark. His soft and gentle caresses. The way he looked at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. The way he fucked you with a wild and desperate need… 

At your silence, his antennae flatten along his head again and he tenses. “I’m sorry, I should have asked but I couldn’t help it—” 

“Don’t be.” You say, placing a hand on his chest as you nuzzle into his warmth. “I just wish I had dust of my own to give you.” 

He relaxes and you look up at him, your heart warming at the grin that spreads wide across his face and the way his antennae flutter in delight. 

“Don’t worry. You’ve given me something far more precious.”  

Pink stains your cheeks as you smile, his words sending a flutter through your stomach. Resting your head against him, you listen to the steady beat of his heart, marveling at this beautiful creature holding you in his arms. Soon, the slow rise and fall of his chest begins to lull you into sleep.  

When a big yawn splits your face, he strokes a hand down your back and whispers in your ear, “Rest now, my sweet blossom.” 

With that, you drift off into a peaceful sleep, dreaming of soaring wings and scarlet eyes. 

Tip Jar :)

[allurilove]

Yan classmates kink list.

What are these greasy guys into?

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

Kink list with links for every single one of my characters!

Submissive to Switch to more of the Dominant Characters! I will update this as I go post more fics!

Submissive

“Kenny” | Kendrick

If you really want a submissive guy, he’s your man. Well he’s your husband really. He’s afraid to talk back to his wife, and he does everything around the house. He stays at home, cooking, cleaning, and taking care of the kids. In a AU where women rule the world and men go to The Husband Program to learn to be good husbands, being submissive comes naturally to him. He can be a bit mischievous and a rebel, especially when he was young, but a good little humiliation will put him back into place. So, I guess he’s a masochist.

Loves to eat you out, and likes to be praised afterwards.

Favorite sex position might just be when you’re sitting on his face. Or the classic missionary.

Hes pretty vanilla since men are taught to be more modest.

Dumb Yandere

Most ditsy and dumb man you have ever met. He is a weird ass pervert too. You catch him sniffing and licking the crotch area of your pants and underwear before.

Would bury his face into your behind and lick whatever he could.

Loves compliments and rewards.

He does get scared easily so anything with whips and binds is terrifying.

He doesn't like any position where he cant see you.

Perverted Yandere coming soon!

Yandere Prodigy

He is definitely more on the submissive side. He pretends that he hates you and that he’s cold hearted, but the moment you touch him he melts.

He would be a bit bratty and talk back at you.

Is the type to get a nosebleed at the sight of your bare skin.

He would definitely want to hear your praises, and how much you love listening him play violin.

favorite position might be anything that has him on the bottom.

Yandere Neighbor

He’s done everything to be close to you, and he even bought the space next door to your apartment. He loves to be choked, ordered around, spanked, will love it if you rode him, and he’ll go anything really. He’s the most dedicated man I’ve ever written for the readers.

He would fuck you anywhere. I mean he literally masturbated and licked your door knob for gratification.

Phone sex ? The type to hit you up with a message saying: "What are you wearing?" at 3 am.

Favorite sex position maybe doing it while standing up. He can hold you close and press you against the wall.

Yandere Best Friend

He’s quite new to sex so he doesn’t know much. But he does have a praise kink, and loves it when you call him a “good boy.”

I’m sure he would love to have you teach him new things, and would be pretty open minded, so an experimentalist.

Favorite sex position is probably cow girl or reverse cow girl.

Yandere Survivor

He cut his dick off for you to eat, I mean damn. He sacrificed his whole life because he wanted your attention to be solely on him. Before the apocalypse, he did have the occasional hook ups. He would mostly be a bottom and let people do their thang on him.

Most likely to call you “master” or “mistress”

Before the apocalypse he has had his fair share of hookups, and would occasionally love to bite on ears.

He'll be your pet if you want him to be.

Switch

Yandere Mothman

A possessive man that becomes putty in your hands. He sees you as his mate and life partner.

Overall, he's pretty submissive. He does take over when the mating season comes around. The mating process takes several hours.

Yandere Boyfriend

He’s literally a damn loser. He steals your cups, your underwear, and he would follow you around the world. He likes to have his hair pulled, or pull your hair.

He is pretty vocal during sex and would like to hear you too.

Choke him !

Loves to beg and loves for you to beg him

Loves it when you ride him or are just desperate for him as he is for you. but his fave sex position is doing it from the side, or missionary.

Would probably dress up as anything for you.

Yandere “Blood bag”

Has a knife kink and blood fetish.

He likes to mark his lovers, and bite down on their shoulder as he cums.

He would love it if you drank all of his blood and leave him almost to the brink of death.

Has fantasies of you using him just for his body.

Yandere Yearbook guy

All he needs is a photograph of you. Which he has plenty of.

Savior complex? the thought of you all hopeless or stuck somewhere- you know he’s just going to take advantage of that.

Loves to trigger your senses, and he would drip melted candle wax on you or please you with an ice cube

Pegging is fine with him too. As long as you know what you’re doing.

Favorite position: 69 or missionary with one leg over his shoulder

Yandere Professor

Your professor has an oral fixation for sure. He would stick his fingers into you after they’ve been soaked in your essence, and shove it down your throat.

Has a thing for when you call him “sir” or “professor”

Would have you bend over and spread your legs wide for him, and he’s an adrenaline junkie so would fuck you in public just for fun.

Car sex.

Yandere Knight

He's not a degrader. I mean, he would be mortified to call you a slut or whore. He also likes to play a little hard to get.

Hes a switch. He submits to you because you're a literal royal, and he'll submit to you in bed. He is close to being a dominant, and only submits to people he truly likes.

He does enjoy some good vanilla sex and missionary.

Hes a worshipper, and will compliment you while he is intimate with you.

Dominant

Yandere Farmer

The sweetest guy you will ever meet. He does like to fuck you in front of other people, especially his buddies. He'll tie you up and have you on display. It absolutely pisses him off if people dare to actually touch you though.

He calls you his toy.

His compliments are calling you his sweetest slut.

Yandere Chaebol

Your boss is into your little maid outfit he gave you. And he realized he just likes role play. He also loves to make you crawl to him, and pull you around on a leash.

Loves to sneak around and would probably have threesomes if he could.

He would love to see you sprawled out on his desk.

Yandere Stalker

Would love it if he could just have his way with you.

Blood kink. Like he'll go down on you if you're on your period.

If he were to be a submissive, he would be the brattiest brat you have ever seen. He loves to feel in power and in control.

Would be the type of guy to make a goal to try every position in a single night.

Yandere Husband

Would be into bondage: tying you onto the bed, and trying your limbs together so you can’t move.

A bit of a sadist, and a brat tamer.

Breeding kink. He is also very touchy and physical touch is his love language.

So favorite position might be the mating press. And he also likes to fuck you in front of a mirror.

Calling him "daddy" will give him an ick. He's a literal dad and it feels wrong to hear it be said in an intimate context.

Yandere Dad’s Best Friend

Exhibitonist. I mean he did fuck you outside during the fourth of July block party.

Is into cock warming and just being close to you.

Squirting. And also dumping his load on your face after you give him a blowjob.

Slapping and spanking.

Would bend you over whenever he could.

Yandere Prince

He is more of the ruthless type. He's a dominant and a major degrader.

Hes a sadist, and if he were to partake in any sexual activity, he would like to be the master or owner.

Hes a rigger and likes to tie his partners up.

Him actually fucking you would be pretty rare. If you do get on his nerves, and manage to get him pretty riled up, you'll be dicked down in no time.

Ruining you is his favorite activity.

[cheesycatz]

The Making of: Life-Size Malworm Plush

(Wormton AU)

STATS

16 ft 3 in (495 cm) long

Total time: 150 hours

Material Cost: $124

Theoretical minimum cost (based on seamstress wage): $2,524

(Progress photos and commentary below)

I'll be referring to my life-size wormton plush as "malworm" for convenience sake.

Unlike my Spamton NEO, Caine, and Fake Peppino plushies, I didn't spend a lot of time on concept art. Since I planned to make the malworm plush as close as possible to its 2D design, I didn't have to add much stylization, other than simplifying some details (no way in hell was I going to make 104 separate embroidered stitches for the segments of his toes, sorry). I mainly used the planning stage to calculate how wide the body pieces needed to be, plotting it out in 1/4 in : 3 in scale and using circumference formula to find the values I needed. I planned to make it around 10 feet long, the length of a young adult malworm. A lot of this project was improv, but, I mean, it wasn't my first or second or third time making a spamton centipede.

The head was quite a complicated shape, so I carved a tiny model out of craft foam, covered one half of it in masking tape, then cut the masking tape mask (hah) into flat pieces. I then traced the pieces onto graph paper and manually scaled them up by using the fact that I wanted the nose to be 1 ft long as reference. The rest of the pattern pieces were very simple, as wormton's teeth, body, legs, etc were very easy to translate into 2D shapes. I used old school notes as paper for the body, as I needed a lot of it. It was entertaining cutting exerpts of Moby Dick and English Renaissance biographies into body parts. I ended up making the body significantly longer; I had to spend $100 dollars on fur anyways, so why not make a maximum size one?

Making the pattern pieces took around 8 hours. While waiting for the fur to ship, I started cutting out the teeth, legs, and eyes. By the time the fur arrived, I had already sewn 36 worm teeth. I did an 11hr all-nighter to cut all the fur in one sitting the day it arrived. After a long vacuuming session and an uptake in the amount of polyester fiber in my lungs, I finished cutting the pieces, taking about 18 hours and 40 minutes.

As usual, the head was the first thing I worked on. It was...kind of wonky once I flipped it inside out. I trimmed some of the fur so that I could actually see what was happening. The main issues were the lack of any forehead, the nose being way too wide, and the cheeks being too flat. I did some ladder stitching as well as modifying the thing from the inside, and eventually made the head look much better. The cheeks still don't stick out that much still, but I'm happy with how the head looks now. I think it conquered the sopping wet owl resemblance. I inserted wire into the nose and jaws to help them keep their shape.

When I started this project, I wasn't sure whether to make it based off of Wormton or just a copyright-free malworm; I decided to do both. I went with red for the non-Spamton version, as I think it really fits the cartoony fly/mothman-style cryptid look malworms are supposed to have.

I sewed a square pouch into the throat and put in all those teeth. I used hot glue to wrap blue squares around a wire for the proboscis, because I think I would've gone bonkers cuckoo bananas if I had to hand sew that entire thing. The throat pouch holds the proboscis when it's not extended, as well as anything else I wanted to shove in there. I never measured it, but it's around 4-5 ft long. I finally made the Spamton... eye patches(?) and a pair of eyelids, though I didn't end up using them in the photo shoot. I also made a new pair of nostrils, as the old ones kind of got swallowed up from all the plastic surgery I was giving him

Now that the head was finished, I got to work on the body. I sewed the white belly and segments of the body together. I left most of the tail open, as the fur was too thick for me to flip it out at a certain point. I worked on the legs, next. After living out my cosplay dreams by putting the claws on my fingers like bugles chips, I grouped the claws together and sewed most of each leg and foot together, leaving me with many pairs of charred drumsticks (did not taste good)

I attached an extra long wire structure into each set of claws, then threaded the wire through each respective leg and stuffed them. I ladder stitched the claws to each foot, then stuffed each with some plastic beans in order to give the feet weight. I then finished sewing each foot shut. I now had a pile of disembodied limbs and one very long scarf.

I wound many long pieces of wire together to create an armature for the body. While the plush's body is way too heavy to be properly posable, the wire does still give some structure. I wrapped the extra long ends of the legs' wires to the metal spine, using the body's leg holes for reference. I then pulled the body up the metal armature like a sock.

I pulled the legs through their respective holes and stuffed the body. It was the first time the malworm was huggable! It's sort of like an oversized body pillow, in a way. I had to ladder-stich all the limbs, the head, and the rest of the tail, as it would've been completely impossible to flip inside out. It was quite difficult to do on furry fabric, and my thread frequently broke from the force I had to pull with to keep the stitches tight. Eventually, I got everything attached to some degree.

The last details I worked on were the mane, tail tufts, and scopula pads. The mane and tail tufts were ladder stitched onto the body, but I decided to use glue to attach the pads to the feet. I think the extra blue details make his proboscis fit much better, and who doesn't love spider paw pads? I also glued some velcro to the eye patches so that they stay attached better. They slide under the black eye rings.

My malworm was finally finished! I tried to put a lot of effort into the photo shoot so that people who don't know about the AU can enjoy it. I wanted to make it seem like some weird entity whose only goal is obtaining more Spamton brainrot. Hence it making Spamton on Mario Kart DS under the bed, obsessing over the Spamton Plush, inspecting the Spamton Shrine, and just generally harassing the photographer (me, I guess?). I wanted to capture the silliness, creepiness, and lack of respect for personal space that Spamton is known for. I thought about giving him a bag of doritos under the bed like that one image of the isopods eating them, but went with the DS instead. I thought it would be funny to see this thing playing Super Mario 64 DS (or Super Spamton 64) and here the "buh bye!" sound effect when it closes the DSi XL.

That's all from me, for now. I have other Wormton related matter to attend to.

Don't let the parasitic Spamton larvae bite

[pyreshe]

back on my s.ky h.igh livvy being a terrible little 10 y/o freshman agenda,

[nerodivergentgrimreaper]

Random Redacted Headcanons

Lasko’s Listener is a huge coffee nerd and has a personal vendetta against starbucks 

Sweetheart and Marie meet up for lunch when they have the day off but Milo doesn’t  

Babe has an impressive teacup collection as well as a wide tea selection 

When Sam was first turned he had a mullet 

Sweetheart took Asher to get his first tattoo 

Guy has four different shirts that talk about kissing/fucking mothman 

Angel hates peanut butter 

Tank wore exclusively cropped t-shirts their senior year of high school 

Aaron is currently growing out his hair for the first time and had to be taught by Smartass how to maintain it 

First time Freelancer got sick, Gavin called Damien in tears thinking they were gonna die 

Damien refuses to buy store bought pesto 

David is really good at checkers 

Porter holds Treasure’s hand while they sleep 

Milo has a picture of Sweetheart in his wallet 

Vincent owns 12 pairs of skinny jeans 

Huxley will fight anyone who says white chocolate is real chocolate 

David secretly hates when people are taller than him 

Sweetheart and Gavin can sprint in stilettos 

Aaron refuses to watch sad dog movies 

Freelancer has secretly assigned all of their friends a muppet 

Sam had hot water added to his hose outside so he can help clean Tank off after pack runs without fur getting everywhere

Marie and Tank have a bet going about who will have kids first

[chaosheadspace]

You KNOW I’m gonna request 21 with Dreamling for the kissy prompts 🥺

🤘five-and-dimes

Hello @five-and-dimes, thank you for sending in an ask! Here you go.

At first, Dream does not really notice.

After all, he has so much to do when he finally escapes, and Hob is a welcome distraction, a haven where he shores when his duty and the voices of others become too much, too heavy. Hob is safety, Hob is respite, Hob is a breath after surfacing after diving.

Hob helps him acclimatise again, makes humanity palatable in a thousand tiny morsels. Where Dream still feels cold glass, still tastes stale air, still sees painted stars, Hob slowly but surely replaces one hundred years of solitude with little flickers of colour.

Hob feeds him, just a few bites, of every meal he eats in Dream's presence. At first, Dream is hesitant, but he owes Hob, owes him for his loyalty, and a little food cannot harm him, can it? And Dream is surprised, the first time, how hungry his body is. Not for the offered sustenance, no, but for the care with which Hob offers a forkful of his dinner.

Hob's other offerings are easier to accept.

Soft blankets, clothes, even a black plushie called, according to Hob, mothman. He wraps Dream in warm softness, encloses him in the promise of a barrier between him and the recent past.

Television, which Hob is very enthusiastic about. Shows, films, video games. It runs human emotion through Dream on an infinitesimal scale, one at a time, easy, distinct. He tastes laughter again, fear, sorrow, lust, even allows himself to dip his toes into his sister Despair’s realm, but only briefly. The emotion does not have to be his, when he is watching. It is not overwhelming. He can feel it, and let it go. It leaves him exhausted but better, small chunks of himself puzzled into the cracks the past put there.

But Hob does not touch him, not really.

He offers hugs, and cuddles, and readily lets Dream treat him as part of the sofa, putting his feet or his head or his whole self into Hob's lap. But, Dream realises, he has never really felt Hob's touch. A squeeze on his coat-clad shoulder, at most.

It puzzles him, because Hob readily offers and gives touch to other people close to him, Dream has had time to observe. Tight hugs, claps on the back, ruffled hair, clasped hands in earnest conversation, Hob always reaches for people.

But not for Dream.

He recalls countless situations where Hob changed his mind, though. Tentatively lifted his hand, just to take it away again, uncharacteristically shy. If it is shyness at all.

And so it happens that in the middle of the game show they are supposed to be watching, Dream takes one of Hob's hands, startling him.

Hob turns his head, puzzled, trying to jerk his hand away. Dream does not let him. “Wha—”

“Why do you not touch me?” Dream asks softly. He loosens his hold on Hob's hand, turns it over in his grip and gently smooths his index finger over Hob's palm.

Hob releases a trembling breath. “Dream—”

“Please,” Dream says, even quieter, not looking Hob in the eye. Instead, he watches Hob's fingers curl slightly in the flickering light from the TV, trails the mounds of Hob's fingers from index to pinkie.

Hob switches off the TV sound.

“My hands aren't pretty,” he finally says. “They're not soft. They're warrior’s hands, craftsman’s hands, and I thought—” he swallows. “I thought you've had enough roughness in your life for once.”

Dream smiles, just a little. “Tell me,” he says, taking Hob's hand in both of his, “have you not been gentle with me?”

He raises it, cradled, moon white on sun-kissed. “Will these hands not protect me?”

He places a kiss on the knuckle of Hob's thumb, and Hob takes a sharp breath.

“These hands have fed me,” Dream continues, touching his lips to the pad of Hob's index finger. “They have clothed me, garbed me in blankets to ward off the cold.”

Dream's mouth slowly continues its way, feeling out the shape of Hob's calluses and scars, breathing the words into the space between Hob's fingers.

“Your hands will not harm me,” Dream says, carefully placing Hob's hand palm first against his own cheek, “and neither will you.”

A hitching breath, almost like a sob, and then Hob reaches for him with his other hand, drawing Dream in by the back of his head, twining his fingers into Dream's hair. And Dream goes gladly, leans forward into Hob's warmth, follows the call of Hob's lips with his own, tasting care and love and fierceness all for himself.

Send me a kissy prompt or read the other ones here