#how little control

[latenighthoneyhouse]

I could've spun gold with all of it

I want to scream

Who says it? Who gets to say that we're just sad forever?

The world is collapsing but there are still people smiling and laughing and holding to their friends and all they've built

But not me

[humbuns]

pieced together till they're no longer broken apart

[bluegiragi]

the lieutenant's arrived.

early access + nsfw on patreon

[pangur-and-grim]

I was worried about leaving Pangur for a few days, but lads……she has survived!

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Tis but a flesh wound!

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[misstoodles-doodles]

Safe & Sound 💙

I just really wanted someone to give Echo a blanket so why not let it be Rex

Closeups T-T:

Bonus Doodle:

[kenjakusbraincum]

Heey, I LOVE your writings on soft sukuna, you write so beautifully🩷 please can you do one where he is jealous (fluff)😭🩷

Thank you sm for the kind words!!! Here's my best attempt at doing your idea justice <3

Sukuna has no real reason to be jealous. He practically owns you, controls every aspect of your life, who or what could he possibly be jealous of? Every servant who dared approach you in an inappropriate way would be dealt with swiftly. And you're a good pet, who has eyes for no one other than your master. You really don't give him a reason.

But there's this one thing... Since you've been so good and obedient, Sukuna has allowed you many liberties. You're permitted to skip around the mansion, watch Uraume cook, even enjoy little hobbies. You've tried many before you found that crocheting particularly piqued your interest. Ever since you've learned the basics, you've been spending hours working on perfecting your skills. At first it was cute, watching you squint in concentration as you move the hook. But then the math became really simple - having this hobby to keep you busy meant you approached Sukuna out of boredom a lot less. And he noticed it. It irked him, but you're not technically doing anything wrong. You were still as happy to serve him as ever, he just had to ask. But why would he have to ask? You should be all over him on your own. He should have to push you away, not beg you to give him attention. He didn't like this disturbance in your master and pet balance that this little hobby of yours caused.

He stands at the door now. You're crocheting again. You and your favorite servant laugh at your failed creation so sweetly, you don't even notice he's waiting. He clicks his tongue to establish his presence, and your servant falls to her knees immediately. You however, are not held to that high of a standard anymore.

"Master!", you call him, and hop up to greet him with a deep bow. Before he can say anything, you've picked up the piece of fabric you've been working on and ran into his arms to show him.

He looks at the ugly form and scoffs. "This is what I'm sponsoring?", he says and pulls a loose piece of yarn, making your little creation fall apart. He always was a bully, but you note his bad mood.

"I'm only a beginner...", you sulk.

"That much is obvious.", he flicks the yarn away and it falls onto the floor. Before you can bend to pick it up, he seizes your wrist and pulls you back. "Aren't you a little young to waste time with hobbies for the elderly?", he asks. You look at him with your cutest, practiced doe eyes, but it doesn't work.

"Come, pet. I know an activity more suitable for your age.", he says when you don't respond, and steps out of the room. You hop after him, unaffected by his condescending comments. You know that they're just for show. If he really thought you were a hag, you would've been gone a long time ago.

"Sitting at your throne all day?", you tease innocently and join him at his side, sliding your arm underneath one of his. You hope your playfulness will distract him from whatever is bothering him. "Or in a bath?" His lower set of eyes peeks at you and smirks, noticing that you're feeling particularly daring today. He's not sure how he feels about that. "Or in your bed." He rolls his eyes gently and opens the door to his chambers.

"At least then you'd be serving your purpose and actually spending time with your master.", he comments and shuts the door. His comment catches you a bit off guard and you stop in front of his bed. He makes his way towards you, and you look up at him with an insulted expression.

"Master, are you jealous of a ball of yarn?", you ask playfully, and squeal when he suddenly pushes you down to sit on the bed. Now you're at eye level... with his crotch.

"You've got quite a big mouth today. Put it to good use for a change, will you?", he runs his hand from the crown of your head to the back of your neck. You seem to have struck a nerve, so it really is the ball of yarn. Is it possible that Sukuna is this clingy?

"Will you?", he repeats and tugs on your hair and narrows his eyes. You smile obediently and reach behind him to untie his obi.

"Yes Master."

-

You try your best to manage the time you spend crocheting from then on, working on productivity in the hours that you dedicate to developing this skill. And it helps that you have a specific goal in mind now: helping Sukuna realize that this hobby is a friend, not an enemy. He still catches you engaging in it sometimes, and gives you a dirty look, but you're as quick as ever to drop what you're doing and join him. That seems to satisfy him.

When you're finally happy with the result of your creation, you look for Sukuna around the mansion. It's not really that hard to find him, as he frequents three places most of all: the dining room, his bedroom and his throne room. This time, he's sitting on his throne, and a small line of people wait for their turn to be gifted his attention. You on the other hand, don't have to wait in line to get it. His lower set of eyes spots you the moment you enter the chamber. You're allowed to roam the mansion, but barging in unannounced is not standard even for you.

Still, Sukuna has learned that you usually only feel daring enough to cross boundaries when you're sure he'll like what you have in mind. So for now, he will let this slide. He's bored as hell anyways. The people are dismissed and you pass by them on your way to his throne, nestled on a pile of bones. You stop in front of it and greet him with a bow.

"Master, I come to you with a humble offering.", you say with your hands on your thighs and your eyes fixated on the ground.

"Show me.", he says simply, but you recognize entertainment in his voice. You climb up the bones and feel his stare scan you from head to toe, before you sit on his knee.

"May I ask you to close your eyes?", you ask and flutter your lashes. Oh the way you seduce him. Who else could ask Sukuna to do something as dangerous as close his eyes? Give his opponent valuable time to land an attack. Who else could dare? And who else would he ever listen to and really close his eyes? Really do as he's told? Oh how safe he feels with you.

You take one of his large hands into yours, and gently pry his long fingers away to open his palm. He has beautiful hands. The only ones you've ever known, but you're sure they're the most beautiful hands in the world. So dangerous, so elegant. You want to press a kiss to his palm, but you hope your gift will have the same, maybe even more profound effect.

Something soft touches his skin, and then you speak, as politely as before. "You may look.", in your softest voice. And when he opens his eyes, he finds himself looking at you first. You're an offering on your own.

Then he looks at his hand. Two crocheted plush figures resembling him and yourself lay flat on his palm, connected through their holding hands. At first glance, it looks like they're two separate creations. In a sense, they are, but... He tries to part them.

"We're sewn together.", you explain. He hums in amusement and inspects your gift more closely. His plush is bigger, recognizable by the pink hair and four buttons for eyes. It's even wearing his favorite kimono. Yours is smaller and less detailed. You look like any other human when placed next to him, insignificant. But in a sea of pets, entertainers and lovers he's had in the past, he would never fail to recognize it as you.

He's spent so long looking at it with that face of his that you just can't read. You're starting to grow restless in his lap, and he feels your eyes dwell into his soul. When he looks back at you with one pair of eyes, your brows are furrowed in worry and you're fiddling your hands in your lap. He pats you on the head and pulls you closer, so you have no choice but to lean on his frame.

"It's beautiful, darling.", his fingers run through your hair, scraping your scalp softly. "No loose threads either.", he looks at you with all four eyes now, and you feel so small in his arms. You're not used to receiving this many compliments from Sukuna at once. Not ones that weren't directed at your body or performance. Especially not when he's looking at you so tenderly, when every word sounds so loving and genuine. "You've improved so much.", his hand is on your face now, and you catch him glancing at your lips. You part them to start thanking him, but you already know how much he hates listening to that.

You stay quiet instead, and lean closer, letting him take you. And he kisses you so softly, fingertips light against your heated skin. You feel like you're floating, like a lily pad in a warm pond. The littlest gesture of his affection has you melting in his embrace. The power he has over you... and how wonderful it is to surrender yourself to it.

None of the liberties and privileges you've been awarded with compare to this. You know that many pets have walked these halls before you. Many warmed his bed and claimed the title of his favorite. But how many loved him like this? Enough to dedicate time of their day to making intricate gifts. How many could say Sukuna kissed them lovingly, for no other reason than to show gratitude and affection?

You're flushed completely red by the time his lips leave yours. You can't hold the intensity of his gaze, as he stares at you in adoration. "I'm happ.. I'm glad you l-like it...", you stumble through the words and win a giggle out of him. You are just so cute. Like a pet should be. He rubs your head again and pushes you away lightly.

"Go now, the people await me.", he says with a benevolent smile gracing his face. "I'll see you tonight."

You bow to him and leave.

And when you visit him that night, he is as gentle as he was when he kissed you earlier, still in a good mood after your gift. Caressing your hair, shoulders and back, as you lay comfortably with your head on his chest. Keeping you warm in his embrace. You're trying your best to follow the conversation, but sleep is slowly taking over you. Sukuna notices and plants a kiss to your forehead, wishing you goodnight. The last thing you see before your eyes close, is your handcrafted plushies sitting on his nightstand.

[thewisestdino]

Longtail with 15!

I am a good person. I am a powerful person. I don't believe in evil. I think that evil is an idea created by others to avoid dealing with their own nature. I understand my own nature. Good and evil have nothing to do with it. I understand myself. I control myself. I control everything within myself. My domain is my domain. I can lie on my back and affect the lives of those I love without moving a finger. But I would only affect them in good ways. I don't waste time on evil. I'm a good person. Is this thing on? Do you know about Jesus? Do you really know? All you know is what you've been told. Listen with your heart. Sing with your heart. You've just been singing about girls. What do you know about girls? Fuck... Why are you so tense?

[vwoop-prince]

YJ S3 Dick, still in the midst of his fever dream, hides underneath the 'souvenir' instead of behind some boxes, and accidentally opens the airlock trying to take care of the Parademons. The others get it to close... but not before Nightwing is thrown into space.

There, he stares at the ship holding his friends and mentors. There, he wishes more than anything that he can, somehow, survive. There, he tries to live, if only so his family don't have to bury him like Jason.

There, Nightwing dies, wanting to save everyone, even with the cold seeping into his bones far too quickly for a regular section of space.

Then, Dick opens his eyes to... Earth? There's a little house, and grass, and trees, but there's a bubble of green over it all. Outside of that green was an entire castle, one that looked like it should have far more support beams than it does for even a hope that it stays standing.

And the sky was swirling shades of that same green. It makes him think of Lazarus.

"Well, that's something you don't see every day." He whips his head behind him, a bit too fast for Earth's atmosphere, but it doesn't hurt him. Past the bubble of green was a blue-skinned adult in purple robes, the insides of a grandfather-clock fitted inside their torso, and a black staff with a stopwatch on its top. Beside them was a man with snow white hair, glowing green eyes, a crown of frozen fire dancing above his head, and the most galaxy-like cloak Dick's ever seen clasped to his shoulders. He's wearing... a hazmat suit? Maybe? The twinkling stars and odd lighting of wherever he is were giving him a bit of a headache.

But in front of those two, within this bubble, was...

"DICK!" Wally shouted with unrestrained glee, a blur overtaking his spot for barely a heartbeat before Dick's stuck in a crushing hug that he reciprocates once his brain stops feeling like its melting.

He doesn't know how long it took for them to calm down, but the man with the crown spoke up after a time, as Wally was still wiping their faces free of tears. "Welcome to the Infinite Realms, Nightwing." Dick barely even registered that he was still wearing his suit, but now it felt suffocating. "I suppose you're the one Clockwork was holding out for; There shouldn't've been enough Ectoplasm around you to form a Ghost, and your physical body's still in space. I can see why you like this one, though, Clockie," he states flippantly, turning to his companion. Almost like he didn't expect Dick to pay too close attention to what he was saying.

"Either way, there's two options for you." The man didn't let Dick swallow his tears and question anything. Dick's not sure if he's grateful or not. "First: Stay in the Realms permanently. You'll see Kid Flash whenever you want and learn to be a Ghost with the denizens of the Realms. Maybe find your parents."

"But..." Dick pulls away from Wally, keeping him at arms length, eyes flitting between them. The two outside the bubble were distinctly... ghost-like, so the mentions of 'Ghosts' make sense. But Wally looked... alive. A bit pale, a bit thin... but alive. Dick can't see any of his own skin to see if it was blue or tinted that way, but the Nightwing symbol on his chest kept flickering between its own blue and this 'Realms' green. "But--What about the others? What about you? Why can't you come home?" The last two, he focuses on Wally, because now he can feel a heartbeat beneath his gloves. Wally's alive. He's alive.

His friend just shrugs. "Something about their portals not fit for the living? I'm meant to wait for someone to figure out a permanent portal, but they won't tell me how long that'll take." Wally glares at the... 'Ghosts'? There was a heat to it, but it also seemed like this was a well-worn argument.

"The permanent portal was always an 'if', Wallace West. And that is entirely dependent on if Richard Grayson takes the second option," the clock Ghost--Clockwork?--speaks up. But instead of the adult Dick was expecting, there was an elderly Ghost in their place. Still with the time motif. Was that... more literal than Dick took it?

"Yes, the second option..." The crowned man glares daggers at Clockwork. The temperature dips below comfortable. Dick tries to blink the spaceship and stars out of his sight, withdrawing his arms from Wally to try and warm himself. Tries to remember he's not in space. "The second option is that you return to your body... changed. You'll be able to protect Earth better, stay with your alive family, save the Lost Ones... for a price."

Dick doesn't know if he should ignore the plural in 'Lost Ones'. He doesn't know if he's reading too much into how, in this Realm, apparently only his parents were able to be found. Where's Jason? He doesn't dare hope, but...

"What's the price?"

The man smiles and a ring of blue forms around his waist. It splits in two and travels up and down his body, replacing the cloak and whatever clothes he was actually wearing with a NASA shirt, worn jeans, and red sneakers actually duct taped together. The blue tint to his otherwise tan skin fades completely. His hair turns black. His eyes turn blue.

He was like a taller, slightly slimmer, way hotter version of Bruce.

The man walks through the bubble, but doesn't disturb the grass beneath his feet. "You become the Ghost King's vassal." Dick flinches away and almost hides behind Wally. "Not my idea! But, well... it is either this, or your permanent death."

"What does becoming a vassal do to him?" Wally asks, gently trying to stop Dick from breaking his ribs with how tightly he was hugging himself. Does he even have ribs?

"He gains my powers. Ice, electricity, invisibility, intangibility, flight... He becomes a Halfa. He becomes what I was, in life. Just... needing to make offerings to me, now and then. Something like that, at least. I give him powers, he gives me a chunk of, I don't know, chocolate once a week. Like a warlock."

Wally keeps talking to the man, keeps getting information that he knows he should pay attention to, but something in his chest screams to accept this deal, and he can't focus on anything else.

Nightwing can protect. He can return to life and go back to Blüdhaven, be the Vigilante they need. He can visit Gotham every now and then, help with cases and stop criminals from harming others. He can see his brother. He can see his friends. He can eat Alfred's cookies, and have little get-togethers with Babs and the Team--hell, he can argue with Bruce.

And all he has to do is... give an offering to this guy? The Ghost King? Every once in a while?

"There's no other price?" The King turns his attention to Dick. His eyes had shifted to a blue-green that almost hypnotize him. The green swirls, the blue forms and melts like snowflakes, and he can't look away.

He takes another step forward and Wally steps to the side. There was familiarity between them. Wally deferred to him. Dick can't quite tell why. Though, with how Wally hasn't once looked at Clockwork, maybe it's because he's... grounded? Are all speedsters in trouble with, what, the Ghost of Time? That... actually makes perfect sense.

"I'll be honest, Nightwing: You've impressed me." The weight behind the King's words lifts the ones that've been on his shoulders since he was nine. "You remind me of myself. Maybe, if I wasn't a Halfa... If I had a mentor... I could've been like you.

"Despite Clockwork's insistence over the years that I get back in touch with the living, I've held off. When he eventually suggested that I help create another Halfa, I locked him in his tower for twenty years. I didn't want anyone to go through what I had. But, now... I see that you won't. You can't. Even if you hide this deal--our shared powers... You'll still have people by your side. Strong people. Smart people. You can already handle yourself. And I'd love to see what you can do--who you can save--with my help."

There was maybe two inches between their faces when the King finishes speaking. Dick roves his eyes across the other's face, trying to find the common and familiar ticks that show lies and deceit and manipulation. All he finds is sincerity and genuine care.

Wally plays with his fingers from the corner of his eye, gaze hopeful as he looks between the two of them. Wally, who was alive and breathing and able to leave if he accepts. Eventually. Somehow.

Dick Grayson sends a quiet apology to his parents and hopes they will forgive him for being a little bit selfish.

"I accept."

He flings his eyes open. Above him, domino mask too wobbly to be properly secured anymore, was Robin crying and begging him to wake up. His hands were sloppily placed over his heart. Batman was trying to drag him away, the firm set of his jaw screaming grief.

Nightwing gasps once he registers his lungs burning.

There's a large cacophony of noise, multiple bright suits and people hounding over him, and the distinct artificial taste of slightly-too-much oxygen that the ship with the Parademons had. That he flew out of and died. He was still too cold.

Someone moves their arm beneath his knees and shoulder and Dick passes out.

(Dick 'Nightwing' Grayson dies in space. Ghost King Danny Phantom likes this too-human Hero. They split their souls in half, take one piece of the others, and all they know is that Phantom is now Nightwing's Patron Deity. Danny uses ice, for electricity killed him. Dick uses electricity, for ice killed him. They are opposites, and yet so incredibly similar. Clockwork was looking forward to when Danny starts putting off his paperwork to hang out with his new 'friend'.)

[trauma-bot]

sin eater

[s0fter-sin]

ghost who was chemically castrated by roba and soap who wants to help him to regain his sexual autonomy

nsfw, angst, roba, unnegotiated unsafe but consensual gun play, hopeful ending

💀🧼

ghost walks like it hangs low.

there’s a tilt to his hips and a spread in his thighs and johnny’s never been able to stop staring.

and ghost’s never asked him to.

he knows he’s seen him; he’s not exactly discreet. he swears he’s even seen him cock his hips out before to give him a better view. but he always pulls back just as they toe the line; verbal cold water on the tentative heat they almost can’t help but spark when they’re together.

it’s never a no; johnny’s not so selfish of a cunt that he’d push when he knows he isn’t welcome. it’s always a reluctance; an “i wish i could,” never in so many words. an open ended “but…” as ghost circles the reason without ever actually saying it. johnny knows it’s something personal, something more than a difference in rank could ever excuse.

so he backs off when ghost does, jokes instead of flirts and holds his breath through the agonising wait until ghost lets him in close again. waits to know if he’ll let him close again.

it’s almost anticlimactic, the end of their dance; his delicate steps and looping logic to work out why bulldozed as ghost comes out and says one random night, “i can’t fuck.”

it’s not bitter. it doesn’t grate coming out of his throat; he doesn’t spit it like it’s something to be ashamed, not twisted with insecurity as if it’s an accusation by an ex.

it’s a statement of fact.

“you can’t fuck,” johnny echoes anyway because even if it is the reason, the big why… it still doesn’t really answer anything.

“i can’t get it up,” he elaborates, this horrid blankness in his eyes like he’s reading from a script. “whatever you’re looking for, whatever you want- i can’t give it to you.”

johnny just looks at him, the chill air prickling his skin. “right,” he nods calmly. “because my interest in you starts and ends with your dick.”

that blank calm shatters. “johnny…” he warns.

“do you really think i’m that shallow?” he cuts in, curing himself for the way his voice breaks but he never thought ghost would think so low of him; that this whole time, ghost’s thought that’s the only thing he wants from him. “like i’d take you for a ride ‘n just drop you?”

“there’s a difference between not gettin’ it for one night and never gettin’ it at all,” ghost growls, turning his back on him to lean against the edge of the roof. his shoulders heave and the anger seeps from him in one long breath. “it’s not a hitch, johnny. not a performance issue or ptsd or whatever the fuck you’re thinkin’. it’s permanent. irreversible.”

irreversible.

johnny stops, cold creeping up his limbs and dousing his defensive anger. ghost is many things and when it comes to his words, chief amongst them all is deliberate. he didn’t say it’s unfixable. incurable.

irreversible.

johnny buries his selfish hurt and scuffs his boots, an unobtrusive warning of movement, and comes up beside him; just enough distance between them to catch their breaths. he leans back against the ledge and looks over the opposite side of the roof at the dark sky.

“mexico,” he murmurs. not an accusation. not even really a question but ghost collapses in on himself anyway; sinking into his crossed arms digging into the ledge.

“mexico,” he agrees just as quietly. “‘pparently, roba found it more entertaining to let me keep it but- cut the cords. more demeaning that way; cock’s gone, at least you don’t feel the urge. don’t have to look at the fuckin’ thing hang there when nothin’ fuckin’ works.

“it’s not ‘bout how i see you, johnny,” ghost promises and it’s almost apologetic. “but you like sex. eventually, you’ll want it. and i can’t give it to you. easier to just… not let it get to that point.”

johnny’s jaw flexes. everything in him wants to reject it, wants to protest that something as trivial as an orgasm is more important to him than ghost.

but he also knows words are useless here.

they stand there looking out into the gathering dark, tense silence hanging between them, and the only thing johnny knows is if he isn’t careful, he could lose the one person he cares about most.

💀🧼

ghost’s been uneasy since his abrupt confession.

he knows it was sudden, borderline cruel to dump his shit on johnny with no warning but he just couldn’t take it anymore; couldn’t take the back and forth when he knew it would never go anywhere, couldn’t take johnny’s hope when he knew he’d have to watch it twist into disgust and pity.

into disappointment.

he figures that’s the end of it; there’ll be no more flirting now, no more staring or heated looks, no more teasing him by spreading his knees out just to see the flash of hunger in his eyes. the control he felt playing with johnny knowing it was welcome, just because he could- he’ll never feel that again. not now that johnny knows the truth.

then he steps into his room to find johnny laying naked on his bed.

he’s not spread out like an offering, not throwing him some cheap sultry glance as he plays with himself. he’s not even hard; his cock limp over the cradle of his balls, his legs bent loosely together, arms under his head as if he’s settling down for the night.

ghost sighs and shuts the door behind him. “johnny…”

“i know,” johnny says and it’s gentle; not cutting him off, just getting his attention. “just… hear me out?”

there’s nothing else to say. there’s nothing johnny can say or do to fix his violated body. but ghost still crosses his arms and leans back against the door like he can anyway.

johnny pushes himself up and off the bed, closing the distance between them but still giving him enough space to breathe; to open the door behind him, to escape.

“i can never know what was taken from you,” he starts and ghost’s fingers dig into his arms. “i can never know what it means to you. and i can never get it back.”

he doesn’t break eye contact and slowly lowers himself to his knees. “but i can give you something else.”

“you?” ghost guesses flatly and as much as it warms his blood, as much as he’s imagined having johnny look up at him just like this… it’s still not enough to offset the sickening swoop in his gut when his cock doesn’t so much as twitch.

“i’m a nice bonus,” johnny purrs but his smile remains gentle. “but i’m not the main event.”

he lifts a hand and ghost readies to smack it away when he reaches for his thigh holster instead of his belt. he flicks the closing strap open and pulls his handgun, his favourite, free.

“you told me you can’t fuck,” he murmurs, popping out the clip. he taps it against the side and loads it back in with a practiced hit with the butt of his palm. “but fucking isn’t all there is.”

“johnny, what…” ghost starts just to cut himself off as johnny thumbs off the safety and loads a round into the chamber.

“you trust me?” johnny asks and it’s as loaded as the gun in his hand.

good then, that ghost knows the answer. “always have.”

johnny’s smile blooms with warmth, with pride, and it chases away any reluctance he could possibly feel. he lets him take his hands in his, wrapping them around the gun with his finger on the trigger guard. he brings the barrel up beside his temple, holding it steady before his hands fall away.

until it’s only ghost between him and a bullet.

johnny’s hands go to his belt, his movements slow enough for ghost to stop him long before he reaches his cock, forever hanging limp in his pants. but he just rubs the muzzle along his temple, almost nuzzling him with the gun as he pulls down his jeans and boxers.

he waits for johnny to take him in hand, maybe try and pantomime a handy, and his hips almost recoil at the thought.

but he doesn’t try to touch him.

instead, he takes his wrist and guides the gun to sit in front of his cock; angling it to follow the same slight curve he has then holds his hands behind his back like he’s standing at attention. he splays his knees wide, sinking deeper and ghost sucks in a harsh breath as johnny ducks under the gun; his eyes locked on his as he curls his tongue under the barrel and brings it into his mouth.

it takes every ounce of will he has to not let his hand shake around the gun as johnny gives it the slowest, messiest blowjob he’s ever seen; slowly rising higher on his knees, guiding the gun up with him as if it’s his cock hardening. his cheeks hollow as he sucks, tongue laving up the barrel and flicking out to play with the muzzle like a cockhead, moaning with every bob of his head until saliva drips off the metal and makes a mess of his chin.

ghost’s never felt so powerful as he does watching johnny hang off the end of his gun; watching his cock harden and drool between his legs without a single touch, knowing he could pull the trigger at any time and johnny would not only let him but he’d thank him.

the thought breaks him from his paralysis, drawing the gun from his lips and johnny immediately stills; rolling his wide eyes up like he’s trying to check on him. ghost pushes every ounce of heat into his gaze and cocks the gun to the side, slowly pushing it back in until johnny’s lips meet the trigger guard.

johnny whines as he fucks his mouth, thrusting his hips along with each long drag like the gun is an extension of his body; almost too rough as tears prick his eyes and his lips redden and bruise but he never asks him to stop; his cock leaking a puddle on the floor beneath him.

“you gonna cum for me, johnny?” ghost croons, holding back a groan when just his voice is enough to make him shiver. “gonna cum with my fucking gun down your throat?”

he gives a broken whimper, as close to an agreement as he can make, and ghost crowds in close. he grips the base of his mohawk, wrenching his head back until his throat is flush to the front of his thigh. johnny lets out a choked cry, eyes rolling back and he doesn’t hold back as he brutally fucks his face; feeling the bulge of his gun in his throat against his leg.

“come on, johnny; you wanna be my good little holster?” he growls and makes sure he’s watching as his finger moves from the guard to the trigger. “then take my fucking load.”

he forces the gun as deep as he can and johnny gags, his shaking body locking up as he cums untouched; painting the floor and ghost’s boot, cock twitching and pulsing hard enough to bump against his belly and leave a string of cum threading from it to his cock.

ghost watches him spasm and moan, his throat convulsing around the gun and a heated knot of satisfaction tightens in his gut; so close to the memory of an orgasm, he’s almost dizzy with it.

johnny slumps forward, his hands slipping from behind his back, and ghost quickly flicks the safety back on and drops to his knees. he slides the gun away and pulls johnny forward to collapse into his chest, taking his weight off his knees; his whole body trembling with aftershocks.

“you’re crazy, johnny,” ghost whispers, awed, and feels him smile against his chest.

“aye,” he agrees, voice raspy from his gun scraping up his throat. “how else am i supposed to prove that i mean it?”

ghost tries not to tense up; tries not to let hope sink its cruel roots into his chest. “mean it?”

johnny pulls back, his cheeks still flushed and sticky with spilled tears. “i’m yours, ghost; in any and every way you’ll have me,” he promises. “sex or no sex. this can never happen again and i’ll still never stop wanting you. it doesn’t matter to me as much as you do. you’re everythin’ to me, ghost. not your body; not what you can give me. just you.”

a knot crowds in his throat. “and you needed to deep throat my pistol to prove that?” he deflects.

and just like always, johnny lets him. “worked, didn’t it?” he winks. “you fucked my brains out.”

ghost rolls his eyes to hide the softness he knows is flooding them and helps johnny up and gets him into his shower; cleaning him of the sweat and cum and spit covering his body.

that ghost covered his body in.

his chest hitches at the reminder as he strips himself down to a single layer and all but falls into bed, tugging johnny in after him when he hesitates just slightly at the edge of the bed; splaying his still naked body over him, sated and loose.

“i really do mean it,” johnny whispers into the crook of his neck sometime later; when their breaths have settled and synced.

ghost sweeps his fingers up and down the length of his spine, skin he’s never seen. skin he now knows every inch of. “i know you do,” he whispers back.

and for once, he thinks it might be enough.

[luvrxbunny]

i think Miguel would get turned on by little things. like little details that someone would normally overlook or have no reaction to

so what made me think of this is specifically when girls say to guys that they’re gonna like— “fuck the life outta him” because technically it’s the guy doing the fucking but i think the tiny bit of role reversal would haunt his mind. he’s distracted for the rest of the day. his boner that he acquired when you said that never goes away

also if omg— i think this is just gonna turn into Miguel secretly wanting to be dominated (or just generally wanting to be treated how he treats others in a relationship) so hold on tight

if you’re passing him in the kitchen or something and— AHAHAAAA okay wait

so Miguel is chopping something in the kitchen but you need to get past him for the fridge or something. so he’s chop chop chopping and you scoot by, resting your hands on his hips to lean him forward a bit with a small “sorry, baby.” as you scooch by. you’d just hear his chopping stop and he’s getting hard already. you have about 30mins before he’s fed up and comes to u begging.

AND IF U DEFEND HIM??? omg he loses his shit. like falling into subspace no matter where u guys are— maybe not fully under but man is slipping.

let’s say you’re at a bar w Miguel and you go to the bathroom for two seconds. a girl approaches him all like “wanna buy me a drink, handsome?” and he’s like “oh! i’m flattered but i have a girlfriend!! so…” she’s like scoff scoff!! “she doesn’t need to know” wink wink and that irks him. it’s rude to his character and it’s rude to u. “i would never do that to her” he’s done w the convo so he turns back to the tv behind the bar, opting to watch whatever is happening there rather than the bitch beside him. but she’s still yapping! “what?? babe.. this is a once in a lifetime opportunity for u!! u can’t bend your rules just a little? *batting her ugly lashes* for me..?”

he just straight up rolls his eyes at her. she looks nothing like you so— “you are far from what i’d consider beautiful” he doesn’t even turn to her as he says it— he’s done w the conversation! but this bitch starts throwing a fit. “you’re a piece of shit loser okay?? you don’t know shit about beauty!! have u looked in the mirror honey?? looking like a fucking meatball is not in style alright?? i was doing you a fucking—“ she’s going on and on. some of her comments are starting to actually hurt Miguel’s feelings a bit (w his body issues and all) he’s about to just get up and wait by the girls bathroom for you but he’s scared to be seen as a creep. he feels dread sleeping in. he doesn’t know how long he’ll have to endure this before you come back and you both can just leave. “you’re an ugly 👏🏻 mother 👏🏻 fuck👏🏻er okay sweetheart?? you—“

“i’m sorry. did you call my boyfriend sweetheart?” relief floods through him at the sound of your voice. his head whips to see you, you have a playful smile on your face— but he knows the anger hidden behind it. it sends a little shock of excitement through his body. the woman’s eyes are wide as she stares at you, like she didn’t believe him when he said he had a girlfriend. “i— sis, listen”

you cut her off “i’m definitely not your sister. go on.” she pauses for a bit— shocked at your coldness before continuing. “girl to girl. you can do so much better, okay? your man— although “loyal” he is—“ you cut her off with a genuine laugh at he way she put quotations around the word ‘loyal’. “baby? finish your drink, okay? we’re leaving soon.” you look right past the girl, barely acknowledging her presence. Miguel nods frantically and downs the rest of his beer as you turn back to the girl.

“look. he’s my boyfriend. my man. i don’t care what you have to say. i don’t care what you say he did but i bet you i can guess the entire scenario” you have a confident, almost smug look on your face that has a fire burning in Miguel’s stomach. “you.” you pause to look her up and down with a weakly suppressed laugh. “tried to get at him… and then threw a hissy fit when he rejected you.. right?” she’s obviously embarrassed, staring at her shoes with an angry look. “well he said that i was ugly.”

you’re grabbing your purse from the chair behind her as she whispers that last part. you can barely make out what it says but you’re not even surprised. “and?” is all you say before walking out with Miguel.

in the cab he’s silent, worried that you’re upset until you speak up. “sorry if i was a hit mean back there.” you laugh a bit embarrassed. you go on to say that you know you shouldn’t have been rude, that people should spread positivity and more but he has to cut you off

“that was so hot, baby.” you take in his obviously disheveled, incredibly aroused state and give him a smirk. “yeah?”

you end up jerking him off in the back of the uber 🤪

he’s super whiny, whimpering, and will not stop begging for more

when u guys get married he gets really into choking u cus it shows off his wedding band

omf you’d do something nice for him while he’s sick— like make him soup or something and he’ll get hard

“you- you made this.. for me?” you’re baffled. “yes..? Miguel you’re sick remember? oh god this is way worse than i thought… do you know where you are, baby?” he laughs. “i know where i am! i just— that’s so- that’s so sweet, baby.” you shake your head and give him a spoonful, feeding him like he’s a baby. you’re focused on his mouth, subconsciously making silly faces as you pour the soup into his mouth. he’s watching you the whole time.

after that spoonful you go for another but he takes the bowl and places it on the nightstand. “wha— you don’t like it?” he smiles and shakes his head at your immediate doubt. “i love it, baby” is all he says as he pulls you into his lap, pressing his dick into you and begging you to ride him for all he’s worth

[taitavva]

kiss it better

[op-dumpstertruck]

Is the baby..... Someone else's child? Like the hair isn't blond or green...................

Well... It is certainly not Zoros child! Which Kuina continues to be (stubborn, a bit thickheaded and fiercly protective). I firmly believe Sanji sometimes looks at her and just.. sighs. Meanwhile kid 2 doesn't look much like Sanji, but is closer to how we was himself as a kid.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The Odyssey would have been a lot shorter if Odysseus gave the Cyclops weed instead of wine.

[crimeschild]

the barbie (2023) experience as an afab non binary person is just [reconnecting with your femininity and love for pink bc you couldnt when u were younger bc being too girly will get u made fun of] [feeling guilt bc u dont identify with being a girl but girlhood is so inherently beautiful and magical and no experience is truly like it] [healing the inner child in you by allowing yourself to enjoy dolls and pink and maximalism] [unapologetically letting yourself wear pink and be stereotypically girly in a society where being non binary means you have to be presenting androgynous 24/7] [getting your grown-up heart shattered and then put back together again by your inner child using sparkly glue over and over in the span of two hours] [realizing that no matter what you do you have somewhat experienced girlhood and it shaped you to be the person you are today and you will never get to erase that experience or truly disconnect yourself from it] [appreciating and understanding your mother in a way that you thought wasnt possible without experiecing motherhood]