#i’m a crazed maniac

[galactic-cumslut]

bleed magic

this was originally titled heavy metal heart but anyways here’s some evil!rick bc i love men who are totally irredeemable,, i hope it’s not obvious i didn’t know where i was going with this..bc i didn’t

rick is a mean dom, slave/master dynamics, afab reader, lots of degrading, cockwarming, exhibitionism , he just wants to show off his power be frl

you liked to think you had an ounce of pride in your body. it was just a thought though. in reality you had none left. he made sure of that.

“c-c-come to me pet. on your knees immediately”. he had said,long legs spread on his throne. his eyes bore into you daring you to refuse him.

instantly you fell to your knees, awaiting your next command.

“what an obedient slut, look at me a stick out your tongue”.

you wanted to resist. anyone could walk in at any time and see you in such a vulnerable state-being used by your lord. the teasing would surely kill you if the sheer embarrassment didn’t first.

a sharp smack to your face threw you back into reality. you hesitated. one thing rick doesn’t stand for is hesitation, once he gives an order he expects it fulfilled immediately.

“are you de-deaf or something, bitch? or do i need to s-spell every little thing out for you, jesus christ you’re stupid. tongue out. eyes on me”.

fear overcame you and you did as you were told. you expected him to insert his fingers inside your mouth but instead he leaned down and spit directly onto your tongue.

“swallow”. he commanded.

as shocked as you were you quickly swallowed. if wanting to be hit again.

rick seemed pleased with you eating up the fear in your eyes.

“there we gooo, all it takes is a little discipline with you huh”? he stroked your cheek gently and you willing lean into his touch. “you just want to be a good little slave for your master hmm”?

rick was almost never gentle with you so of course you were quick to answer. eager to receive more praise. “yes sir”.

“of course you do my darling little cum slut. on your feet at once”.

he offered you his hand as to help you up from the uncomfortable position between his legs.

“i’m going to explain what’s going to happen and you’re going to listen closely”.

you nodded, almost eager to hear what he had up your sleeve.

“the council is coming for a visit very soon and since you’re my most obedient servant you’re going to be shown off. it’ll asset dominance as well as keep attention on me”.

again you nodded, unsure of what he meant by his words. usually he didn’t allow the council anywhere near his lair. ‘what could have changed’ you thought.

“you have one job y/n. you’re going to sit still and stay quiet. your only duty is to look pretty”.

———————-

“welcome council of ricks. i trust you have all been briefed about the reason you are here”. rick bellowed , addressing the six other versions of him sitting in his court.

you in the other hand were in another world of bliss, sitting atop his cock infront of so many men.

less than an hour ago you were worried about someone walking in on you and your master. oh how things have changed. the many eyes locked onto your body-it gave you a feeling of power.

the feeling of his cock twitching inside you was enough to have you drooling. you did your best to sit up straight and smile.you didn’t want to disappoint your master after all.

as if he could read your mind he bucked his hips up slightly causing you to gasp in a mix of surprise and pleasure. “be a good girl infront of the other ricks and you’ll get a biiiig reward”. he whispered in your ear, nipping at your lobe.

“shall we conduct business”?

the group became silence and focused their eyes on rick…or they tried to as you stole their attention away from whatever brining speech rick had planned up.

“i understand that you’re all infatuated with my newest plaything” he started, a crazed grin spread king across his face. “give me what i ask and she is all yours”. fuck his speech, you were a much better bargaining chip.

[theladycarpathia]

I've seen too much stuff about Clipboard Buck and Tommy lately to not write this.

His boyfriend on a power trip should not be hot. 

“See,” Chim mutters under his breath, leaning over the rail to watch Buck down below. “I warned you.”

“So you did,” Tommy agrees, keeping his true thoughts to himself. Buck has the clipboard clenched in one hand, pen in the other, and directs a reluctant Hen and Eddie as they perform checks on the ambulance and the ladder. 

“He’s a menace,” Chim continues, with feeling. “He’s a dictator!”

“Uh huh,” Tommy says, watching the furrow in Buck’s forehead as he makes another tick. He gestures furiously towards something in one of the ladder’s compartments and Eddie puts down the jaws to argue back. 

“We keep hiding the clipboards,” Chim says darkly. “I don’t know where he keeps finding them all.”

“Unfortunately for you, I think that’s something they sell at most major retailers,” Tommy quips and rests his arms on the railing. 

He’s worked under power-crazed maniacs. He was in the army, and then he had Captain Gerrard. His own father was one fully for his way or the highway. 

Buck being like this should not be hot. And yet all Tommy can think about is lying naked on the bed while Buck does things to him from a very meticulous and organized list. 

Eddie makes an obscene gesture behind Buck’s back and Tommy smirks. 

“And this is Buck on a regular Tuesday,” Chim says and pops his gum. “Wait until you see Buck in an emergency or organize an event. It’s a good thing you stopped by. You need to know these kinds of things about a person before you get serious.”

“I’m glad to see you too, Chim,” Tommy says, although stopping to chat to Chimney hadn’t been on his agenda for today. He and Buck have had conflicting shifts lately, and they’ve barely seen each other. Texts and a few brief phone calls have been all they’ve had to get them by and Tommy finally had enough of it. Bobby doesn’t mind Tommy swinging by the firehouse and seeing Buck if they’re not on a call. And today is apparently so quiet that Buck has time to do a thorough inspection of the vehicles. 

“Are you?” Chim asks suddenly, twisting towards Tommy with a surprisingly calculating look. “Getting serious?”

Tommy just shrugs. He knows the answer, he’s just not entirely willing to discuss it yet. But it’s been long enough now that they keep toothbrushes and few essentials at each other’s houses, that they have evenings where they sprawl together in front of the TV, just happy to be together. Tommy knows about his sister, the loss of Daniel, the myth of Abby and has even read Taylor Kelly’s book. 

Which he did in bed, reading several segments out loud, much to Buck’s horror and embarrassment. 

“You seem to be,” Chim comments, and down below Hen throws a roll of surgical tape at Buck. “Not that I’m complaining. We like you, Buck likes you, you flew us into a hurricane…”

“I like him too,” Tommy says, because honestly he’s been smitten since Buck came up with that stupid motto back in the helicopter. “Funny to think that Evan and I never met before as he only got to join the 118 because I left.”

“You got there in the end,” Chim says. “I mean this as nicely as possible but you leaving worked out great for me. If you hadn’t left, there wouldn’t have been a space to fill. If Buck hadn’t joined us…”

“Then you would never have met Maddie when she came to LA,” Tommy says, understanding instantly. Funny how something that simple has changed so many lives. He doesn’t regret moving to Harbor, even with the closeness that the 118 has now. He wouldn’t be who he is otherwise, without that space to accept himself. If he didn’t have that, maybe he wouldn’t be the person brave enough to kiss Buck. “I get it.”

“Although,” Chim continues, still watching Buck down below. “We wouldn’t have the Clipboard Dictator if you had stayed…”

“You love it really,” Tommy says, because he knows Chim loves Buck. But then Buck’s eyes swing upwards, towards the first floor and the two of them. 

“Oh shit,” Chimney hisses and then ducks below the railing. It doesn’t work because Buck just shouts “Chim, it’s glass! I can see you!”

“That wasn’t your best idea,” Tommy says and then offers Chimney a hand. “Come on. I’ll go down with you. Maybe I can make the tyrant a little bit sweeter.”

Chimney doesn’t look soothed by this. 

“Hello, Chimney,” Hen says pointedly, sitting on the back of the ambulance. “Nice to see you. How funny you happened to be hiding in the bathroom when Buck gets his clipboard out.”

“I wasn’t hiding,” Chimney mutters, eying Buck’s clipboard with apprehension. “Kinard, save me.”

“Evan,” Tommy says, snagging his boyfriend’s free wrist with one hand. “I came by to see you. Maybe we give the workforce a five minute break?”

Buck frowns down at his list. “I wanted to finish this before Bobby was done with his paperwork,” he says before looking suspiciously at his friends. “And if they leave, I don’t think they’ll come back.”

“Damn straight,” Eddie says under his breath. Hen just looks innocent, although Tommy is pretty sure they’re about to see three empty firefighter shaped spaces. 

“Just ten minutes,” Tommy cajoles, stroking the soft part of Buck’s wrist with his thumb. “I haven’t seen you all week.” He drops his voice down for the next part, hoping that Buck is as desperate to see him. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Buck practically throws the clipboard at Eddie. 

“Taking a break!” he says cheerfully, half dragging Tommy behind the engine. “Be back in ten or I will hunt you down.”

“Will he do it with a chainsaw, I wonder?” Hen has time to ask (Tommy feels as though he should follow up on this later), before all three of them vanish. Tommy doesn’t see because he’s pressing his boyfriend up against the gleaming red of the engine and kissing the breath out of him. 

“What can we do in ten minutes?” Buck asks, eyes glittering, running his hands up and down Tommy’s chest. 

“Probably not a lot, as we’re in the open, in a firehouse, during your workday,” Tommy admits begrudgingly. A week is a very long time. Buck’s salacious texts and suggestive selfies haven’t been enough. “But we have time off in two days and I want to spend every second with you.”

“Good,” Buck says and the next few minutes pass very quickly. Buck tastes of coffee and he keeps both hands planted on Tommy’s rear - if he keeps squeezing like that, Tommy is going to have difficulty walking out of here. 

“I think we order takeout and movies and don’t leave the house for twenty-four hours,” Tommy suggests, just as Buck licks the shell of his ear. Fuck. This kid will be the death of him. 

“Fine by me,” Buck says and pulls him in for one last kiss. “But I really should get back to work. Call you when I’m off?”

There’s such obvious suggestion in his voice that want searches in Tommy’s gut almost instantly. He pushes it down and strokes Buck’s rather red jaw. 

“Can’t wait,” he says. “And Evan? Go easy on your friends.”

But the others are waiting for them, standing in a line by the stairs, obvious glee written all over their faces. Eddie is holding Buck’s clipboard and Tommy deftly removes it from his grasp. 

“Why, Mr Buckley,” Hen says, looking them up and down with a smirk. “That’s not a proper use of company time.”

“Ha ha,” Buck says mutinously, and with far more confidence than someone wearing a ridiculous amount of beard burn should have. “We have a lot to do. Where’s the…?”

Tommy hastily recaps the pen and hands it back to Buck, as though nothing is changed. He’d feel bad about it if it was an official document. But as it was Buck’s handwritten list of chores, he thinks the others might get some amusement out of it. 

He kisses Buck on the cheek and waves goodbye, quickly ducking out of the firehouse before Buck notices. 

“Who vandalized my list?” Buck shrieks indignantly and Tommy just skips all the way back to his truck.

[solarmorrigan]

The Phantom Menace (no, not that one)

For the @steddie-spooktober day 28 prompt: Mask Rated: T | Words: 1118 | CW: None | Tags: established relationship, modern AU, Eddie Munson is a menace, Eddie Munson is whipped, Steve Harrington is a tease, for the good of everyone present at the Halloween party Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Eddie is a menace.

And a goddamn pain in the ass.

It’s not that Steve doesn’t love him – Eddie is very lucky that Steve does love him, in fact, because Steve would otherwise have lost his patience about half an hour into this shit and ditched him to find his own ride home from the Halloween party.

And Steve had even liked Eddie’s choice of costume at first. He’ll admit that he hadn’t been super into Phantom of the Opera when they’d watched it—a little too theatrical to really be up Steve’s alley—but he’d definitely seen the appeal in Eddie’s Phantom costume.

The waistcoat he’d thrifted had been a hell of a find; it fits him almost perfectly. He’d sewn a cloak that he’d had entirely too much fun twirling around in when he’d finished it. The white half mask had given him an alluring air of mystery, and with his hair tied back? The whole thing had added up to a very attractive picture.

Until the night of the party, when Eddie had decided to be, as previously mentioned, a fucking menace.

He’s been fucking with people all night; nothing mean or destructive (Steve supposes they should all count themselves lucky that Eddie isn’t playing with fire), but irritating as shit. He’s jumping out from around corners and scaring people, he’s stealing things off the snack table and leaving them in weird places, he keeps changing the music from generic Halloween shit to opera (no one is sure how he’s doing this, since access to the Bluetooth speaker is being carefully guarded), he laughs maniacally every time someone expresses annoyance with his tricks, and he’s refusing to stop unless he’s paid 20,000 francs.

Robin offered him a dollar to stop tugging the back of her shirt and running away any time she turns her back to him; he’d argued that the offer was far too low, but had graciously accepted after she’d threatened to smother him with his own cloak.

The most annoying part, however, is that he absolutely refuses to answer to his name. Any time someone snaps out some variation of “Eddie, cut it the fuck out,” he dramatically asks “Eddie? Who is this Eddie? I am The Phantom!” before turning away, flourishing his cloak like Batman as he goes.

“You’re his boyfriend,” Robin insists, leaning up against the counter beside Steve; he’s been hiding in the kitchen for the last half hour, hoping no one will remember that he and Eddie had shown up together, “can’t you make him stop?”

“You think I have literally any control over him?” Steve asks. “He’s like a tornado; you just have to wait him out and hope insurance covers whatever damage he causes.”

Robin snorts. “Okay, but can’t you use, like, your wiles?”

Steve stares at her. “My what?”

“Your wiles. You know, be sexy at him, or whatever.” Robin wiggles her fingers vaguely in Steve’s direction. “That man is weak for you. I’m willing to bet he’ll do anything you ask if you flash your cleavage at him.”

Steve crosses his arms over his chest, hiding the way the shirt of his Indiana Jones costume is halfway unbuttoned, gaping open to reveal a decent (or maybe slightly indecent) amount of skin. “I do not have cleavage.”

“Whatever.” Robin rolls her eyes, then perks up at the sound of Eddie’s crazed chuckling coming close to the kitchen doorway. “Oh! Here he comes! Do it!”

“I’m not going to–”

“Do it,” Robin hisses, tugging on Steve’s arm until he comes away from the counter and giving him a shove in the direction of the doorway just as Eddie comes sweeping through.

Robin skirts around him, pointing two fingers at her eyes and then jabbing a single finger at Eddie, the universal sign for I’m watching you, as she goes by, and Eddie holds his hands up in surrender. She takes a moment to send one more look over her shoulder at Steve before she leaves, and, well – Steve guesses he might as well try it, before someone actually decides to murder Eddie.

“Hey, Phantom,” Steve says, approaching the kitchen island.

Eddie, halfway through ladling punch into a plastic cup, looks up at Steve and grins. “Hello, there.” His voice is deeper than usual, a dramatic affectation for his costume, and any other time, Steve would appreciate the sexy rasp; unfortunately, it’s currently attached to Eddie in full pest mode.

“So,” Steve drawls, leaning his forearms on the island, making sure to angle himself so his shirt falls open just a little bit farther, “I’ve been meaning to ask: I don’t suppose you’ve seen my boyfriend, Eddie, around, have you?”

It takes Eddie a moment to answer, his eyes glued to the span of skin and chest hair Steve’s putting on display. “Eddie?” he finally asks, gaze snapping back up to Steve’s face. “I’m afraid I don’t know who you mean.”

Steve hums, a little, disappointed noise. “That’s too bad,” he says, giving Eddie a bit of a pout. “See, I thought his costume was pretty hot tonight, and I thought maybe we could… y’know, slip away from everyone else, so I could show him just how much I liked it.”

Eddie swallows. “You don’t say,” he says, voice gone a little faint.

“Mm.” Steve sighs. “But since I can’t find him, and you haven’t seen him, I guess I just won’t–”

“Actually,” Eddie cuts in, almost frantically, “now that you mention it, I think I might have seen him.”

A slow smirk draws across Steve’s face. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie nods quickly. “Let me just– I’ll go see if I can find him for you.”

“I’d appreciate it,” Steve says sweetly, leaning a little further onto the island (he does not, whatever Robin says, have cleavage, but if the move pushes his pecs up just a bit more, well – that’s just a bonus).

Eddie turns away, entirely forgetting to flourish his cloak, and ducks out through the kitchen doorway.

He reappears moments later, his white half-mask in hand, one side of his face still a little red and sweaty from where it’s been resting all night.

“Steve!” he exclaims, arms thrown wide. “I haven’t seen you all night! But, uh, someone told me that you’ve been looking for me.”

Steve rolls his eyes, coming around from behind the island; committed to the bit to the bitter end, that’s Eddie.

Somehow, Steve wouldn’t have him any other way.

“Someone was right,” Steve says, hooking a finger beneath Eddie’s bowtie and tugging him closer, leaning in to meet his lips in a deep kiss.

The Phantom doesn’t make an appearance for the rest of the night.

[thisreadswhatever]

Only Mine

find my masterlist here

[description]: jax teller x fem!reader

[wordcount]: 2.4k

[cw]: 18+ only, smut, jealous overprotective Jax, angst, short fight scene (if you can even call it that), car sex, oral f receiving, teasing, unfinished sex

[authors note]: I had this idea floating around for awhile and then this request inspired the rest! thank you!

“I’m sure you say that to all the ladies.” 

You were along the bar, chin in palm, blinking your lashes at the man sitting beside you. He smiled back wryly. He was pretty perfect. Clean cut, slightly muscular, no tats covering him from top to bottom, no bike sitting in the parking lot. He was a little cocky, aware of his good looks, and in all honesty, any other day he’d be the type of guy you’d usually find pretty boring. But for tonight, he’d be a welcome distraction. 

“So you’re really here alone?” the man asked, looking around as he took a sip from the glass in front of him. 

You smiled back, twisting a strand of hair into your fingers as you sipped your beer, “that surprise you?” 

“Someone like you doesn’t come around here often. Can't imagine you haven’t been snatched up yet.” 

Technically, he was right. Jax and you hadn’t spoken in days, and although the mutual silence was a regular occurrence, you somehow always found a way back to each other. It never had been made ‘official’, but it never really needed to be. You both stuck to each other like the end poles of magnets, impossible to keep apart yet impossible to stay together. You and Jax were a burning flame amongst a sea of trees condemned to an endless drought. Your love was toxic and infuriating, and it pained you both how hurtful you could be to one another. Yet for some reason, you always went back. You’d reconnect, one of you would fuck up, and then it was back to square one all over again. 

“Haven’t found the one yet”, you teased. 

He gestured to the bartender with his hand, “can I buy you another beer?” 

You smiled politely back at him, “you can buy me as many as you want.”

You picked up your drink and pulled his hand with your other as you led him to one of the quiet booths settled at the back of the bar. You spent the next hour cosying up to your stranger, soaking in the attention he gave you. He was overly attentive and extremely polite, almost a little too nice for your liking. No roughness on the edges, no fight in him. Just a gentleman through and through. You sat inches from each other, tension building as the drinks continued to appear. 

“Can I kiss you?” The man asked as he leaned in, hovering above your face. It wasn’t often you were asked to be kissed. You stared into his eyes through your long lashes, nodding in approval.

He smiled shyly into your lips as they pressed against his. He was gentle, his hands slowly moving to your waist, never straying further. 

He laid back into the bench, taking a sip from his beer. “You know I never did catch your name.” 

You didn’t want to share anything with this stranger, the anonymity bringing less questions and expectations. 

“Later.” 

You cupped his face in your hand, grazing his jaw with your fingertips as you brought his mouth to yours again.

He was nice, but the longer you spent kissing your gentle stranger, the more you yearned to be in the hands of your depraved biker. Jax was urgent and desperate for you each time you were in his arms. There was a mutual desire that turned you both into crazed maniacs when you were together. It was something you’d searched for every time you were with someone else, because nobody you’d ever come across had given you that same feeling. 

Jax had a way of turning you into the only girl in the world. Until he was fucking the next croweater who threw themselves at him the following day. 

Tonight, you were going to allow yourself to enjoy the gentlemen in front of you. You leaned back into the bench, trying to edge him on top of you as you sunk into the bench against his lips.

You were so entangled in your stranger that you never even noticed him arrive with half of The Club. It wasn’t until you were interrupted by the break in your lips as he was pulling the man off you by his shirt, forcing him to the floor as he was knocked flat on his back. 

“Jax!”

“Dude! What the fu-“ he tried to stand up, but Jax placed his shoe directly on his chest, crushing him to the ground. The man grunted under the weight, failing to pry the shoe off of him. “What the fuck are you doing!?”

“What do you think you’re doing?” He pressed down into the man’s chest harder, restraining himself from crushing his rib cage all together. 

The stranger looked at you with wide eyes, trying to speak through the force compounding his lungs, “she said she was alone!” 

Jax smiled at him as he laid spread out on the dirty bar floor. 

“I don’t give shit what she said. Your time is up, pretty boy.”  

You were ashamed to admit that you thoroughly enjoyed watching Jax furious with envy over you, but you did feel bad for the innocent guy beneath his sneaker. 

“Get the fuck off him, Jax.” 

He glanced up at you, taking a long look at your flushed pink cheeks and swollen lips.

The crowded bar was now zoned in on your table, watching and entertained by the drama unfolding. Chibs, Juice and Bobby guarded the table, ensuring no onlookers got in the way of Jax’s jealous fuelled rage. 

He picked the man up by his collar, pulling him to his feet as he threw him against the wall. Jax gripped at his jaw, lifting his chin to force his eyes towards you at the bench. “I suggest you apologise for bothering my girl.” 

“Jax don’t be ridiculous-“ 

He ignored you, glaring at the man in his grasp, tightening the grip on his collar. 

“I’m sorry, okay!” 

“Not to me, asshole. To her.” 

You rolled your eyes, watching as he tormented the innocent stranger you had set yourself upon.

“I’m sorry I bothered you.” His voice cracked from the hold Jax had on his collar, draining the circulation from his neck.

Jax shoved the man off the wall, releasing him as he was once again flown across the laminate. He stumbled to regain his balance before he started running, bolting for the exit. He disappeared at the speed of light, chuckles from Juice and Chibs echoing through the bar as he ran. 

You stood up from the bench, storming off in anger for the door. 

Jax followed you into the empty, dark car park outside the bar. His hands stuffed into his pockets as he watched you slump against the brick wall, sliding down to sit on the pavement. You put a cigarette to your mouth as you searched for a lighter in your bag. You hadn’t felt tipsy until the air hit you, realising your head was spinning.

He paced over to you, crouching forward with his lighter, igniting the cigarette between your lips. 

“You’re such a prick sometimes, you know that?” 

Jax slid down the wall beside you, his legs bent slightly at the knees as he sighed to himself, lighting his own cigarette. “Not gonna argue with that.” 

He exhaled a large cloud of smoke as he spoke, “but you were basically fucking that guy in an open bar, y/n.” 

“First of all, no I wasn’t.” 

He chuckled, amused by your irritation. 

“And second of all, what the fuck has that got to do with you? You’re the one who decided to get knee deep in Ima last week, again.” 

“I told you I was drunk.” 

“And now I’m drunk too”, you protested.

He shook his head as smoke escaped his lips, fingers twirling the silver lighter in his hands. “That isn’t going to happen again.”

Your head fell back as you groaned at his promise, leaning against the hard brick behind you. “Yeah, ‘cause I haven’t heard that one before.” 

He smiled, nudging your leg with his playfully. “You know I mean it. Doesn’t matter who I’m inside, there's only one face I see.” 

You turned your head towards him, leaning your face on his shoulder. “I’m tired of this, Jax. You and your mommy issues are giving me whiplash.” 

“Yeah, well your baggage ain’t so easy to handle either.” He placed a hand over the back of your head, stroking your hair as he spoke.

You responded with a punch to his knee, swaying his leg. “You can’t just keep beating men up because they’re interested in me. That guy was actually sweet.” 

He threw his cigarette across the pavement before he grasped his hands into your hair, entangling his fingers between the strands. He crushed his lips against yours, his tongue lapping into your mouth. His fingers smoothed against your face, the feeling of his cold rings brushing against your cheek. Your foreheads connected as your eyes closed, resting silently along each other. “I can be sweet too.” 

You chuckled, playfully biting his lip. “You’re a sweet, jealous prick, Teller.”

He pulled into you once more, pecking your lips slowly before escalating into your lips, pulling you on top of him. You straddled him there in the lot, surrounded by empty parked cars in the dead of night. His hands gripped at your waist, pulling your body tighter to him, the feeling of his erection pressing into your jeans. Your hands twisted into his hair, holding his head against yours. He smirked against your lips, trailing his hands lower to your ass, as he secured his hands in your back pockets. He stroked your cheek with his nose, kissing the pink tinted skin.

“I just don’t like sharing what’s mine.” 

Your mouth found his as you raised your eyebrows, mumbling into his lips, “then take what's yours.”

He grinned, lifting you in one swift motion from his lap, standing you up against him. He pulled you across the parking lot as you stumbled drunk, trying to keep up. He led you to your car, opened the back door and pushed you flat against the back seat. 

Jax laid above you, planting himself between your legs. He angled himself between the seats, crushing his mouth against yours. His touch was ravenous, ripping the buttons from your jeans waistband as he pulled the denim from your ass. You giggled as he struggled to get them off entirely between the leather of the flat seat. You lifted yourself up, helping as he removed them. He pulled at your shirt, lifting it higher to expose the skin around your stomach as he leaned into you, gnawing at the skin in short pecks from your navel to your now exposed panties. You grasped at his hair as he claimed you with his warm mouth, suffocating himself into the fabric that covered your mound. 

“Jesus Christ, you’re fucking soaked for me.” He groaned at the taste of your slick pooling into the cotton, pulling your panties to the side. He circled his tongue against your clit, watching you, utterly mesmerised as you whimpered at the sensation. He rolled his thumb against your dripping fold, “this pretty cunt is mine.” 

Vibrations filled your entire being as he nuzzled into your mound, lapping his tongue repeatedly against your slick, his hands lifting your ass to push deeper into you. You tugged at the roots of his blonde hair, drunken moans of his name filling the car park as you struggled to keep quiet. He pulled away, his face glistening from your juices as he smirked at you, caressing his fingers against your pussy. “You want your sweet guy to finish you off?”

Your head fell back at the taunt, “c’mon Jax, don’t- stop-”

He pulled your panties down your ass, exposing your cunt entirely. His tongue stroked you, prodding at your swollen nub, before hesitating again. “Tell me you’re mine.” 

“Fuck, Jax- I’m- yours. I’m only yours.” The words trailed slowly from your gritted teeth, your head swirling from the feeling and the beer. You chased for his mouth, drawing your hips up closer to his face.

“Look at me when you tell me.”

You used all your might to lift your head from the seat, finding his eyes staring into yours, fire blazing within them. You spoke between your sharpened breaths, trying to form a coherent sentence. “I said- I’m yours.”

“I can’t hear you, darlin’. You’re only what?” 

Your head collapsed into the leather seat, cries escaping your lips as you squirmed your hips higher to find his mouth again. “I’m yours- Jax- shit-”

“That’s my pretty girl.” 

He stoked his tongue against your clit, enjoying every moment as you pleaded through your moans for him to take you to your climax. He was revelling in your anguish as he teased at your cunt. He played with your folds again, his fingers caressing the soaking skin. 

“No other man comes near my pussy, isn’t that right?”

You groaned in response, his claim on you sending you further into spiral. “No- no one else.”

His lips reconnected to your cunt, whimpers of desperation pouring from your lips. His fingers finally found your entrance, rewarding you as he slid into your seam, pushing you towards your release. 

He muttered into your mound, “you only cum for me.”

Your body exploded at his instruction, collapsing onto his fingers as they curled against your sweet spot, his mouth soaking in your orgasm. He delighted at your unravelling, his hands travelling your body as he found your breasts, kneading into the soft skin.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Let go for me.” Your thighs shook around his face uncontrollably, squeezing his head into your cunt.

He released his hand from your mound, hovering over you as his lips laid flush against yours. He danced around your mouth, forcing you to taste your slick that covered his tongue. Jax straddled over your hips, holding himself up against the headrest of the seat as his throbbing cock found your entrance. He positioned himself, sliding between the folds, a squeal escaping your throat as he filled you entirely. 

Before he could fuck you senseless, a loud repeated bang was heard against the hood of the car, startling you both.

“Jackie boy! We gotta go!”

Jax collapsed against you, groaning in frustration. If you weren’t so drunk from Jax and the beer, you would’ve been furious. Instead you giggled, amused by the interruption, “Chib’s and his impeccable timing.” He sighed, his head resting against your chest. 

He pulled out from you, as you rushed to put your underwear back in its place. He smirked against your mouth as he kissed you one last time, parting your lips between his, "guess I’ll just have to finish claiming you later.”

read part two here

[hyuckfull]

tell me your fantasy. . . ot7 riize x fem!reader / mutual masturbation / subby wonbin / love drunk riize / filthy it’s just filthy (lmk if i missed anything)

how riize—or how you get them to—admit that they fantasize about you.

shotaro ☆ he definitely does think about you, a lot, but was too shy to admit. not wanting to make you uncomfortable or think he’s too much of a sex-crazed maniac that’s all about lust and not about love. he can’t help it that the thought of you just kissing him gets his cock hard and needy. while his overthinking was one sided you we’re always curious and you didn’t exactly know how to ask, unless you’re working on him. teeth grazing his neck and he’s leaning into your touch you’d ask him, “do you think about me often taro?” and he would never lie, especially not when you’re batting your eyelashes at him that makes your curiosity extra pretty.

though it’d take a long time before he’d actually say it. when you’re finally sinking down his cock and he let’s out a broken moan. “i think about your lips on mine when i’m fucking you.” you whimper, before leaning in to kiss him. “like this?” you say against his mouth, clenching your cunt around him. and it’s enough to get him to buck his hips and moaning out how “fucking perfect” you are.

eunseok ☆ a frequent one who liked to fantasize. he’d always let you know. whether through text or when he’s actually fucking you. any second of the day, whenever he’s in the mood, he’d tell you that he’s thinking about you grinding on his thigh, or your cunt on his tongue. plus, eunseok is the type to really talk you through it. whenever he’s bottoming out he’d always tell you, “this pussy’s always on my mind, but fucking you is so much better” or how, “i’m always thinking about you princess, how much you’re always a mess for me.”

heck a mind reader would probably short circuit if they entered his mind and the first thing they see is your fucked out face with blown out eyes in your boyfriend’s fantasy—and he’d have a normal expression on like always. he will always let you know, and it’ll always leave you gasping for air, telling him to come to you to make it a reality.

sungchan ☆ he gets so lost into fucking you that he just can’t help and say everything that was begging to leave his lips. “you’re like a dream come true to me princess.” everything felt hazy that he couldn’t calm down. “you’re always on my mind, you know that baby?” the way you’re clenching around him with every confession. “i love you baby. always thinking about how good you make me feel.” groans and grunts in between words as he pulled in and out. fully entering you with his palms on your stomach.

you’re taking him so well, so needy and hungry pulling him in for a kiss. sungchan would melt, following the rhythm you’ve set, letting you suck on his mouth while he fucked you gave him such a different high. he pulls away to tell you every dirty thing he’s been thinking about when you’re away. his forehead resting on yours, drunk on your cunt as if it was a vice. “you really think of fucking me often like this?” you’d ask, cupping his face. and he’s respond by intertwining your hands and saying, “of course i do princess, it’s always about you.”

wonbin ☆ you get it out of him yourself. your hands jerking him off while you sucked on his collar bone. you’re sitting on his lap and he’s a mess beneath you. eyes closed shut completely gone to the pleasure of just your hand pumping him. “you ever fuck your fist like this baby?” you coo, fastening your pace. wonbin’s hands in your waist to keep himself steady, doing his best not to buck his hips into your hand. “w-what?” he looks at you through half lidded eyes, drowning from how good it feels however somehow stunned by the lewdness of your words.

he loved to think of your pretty hands, how your fresh set of nails would look so hot when his cum spilled on them. the mental image of you sucking your own fingers cleaning it off you before rolling your index finger on your clit to tease him. spreading your folds to show your puffy slick coated cunt that’s got him drooling just thinking about it. you looked like an angel straddling him yet everything that left your plump lips spewed filth. the moment you finally sink down on his cock is when you’ve broken him. “aw baby, has my pussy rotten that pretty head of yours?” you’re smiling so sweetly, how could he lie? “y-yes… f-fuck princess it’s too much.” you’re clenching so hard on him he’s afraid he might cum. “my mind’s filled with you f-fucking bouncing on my cock… just like this.” you’ve put under a trance he can no longer

seunghan ☆ it was late at night and you were both getting tired. still making sure that you guys are still on call as your eyes fluttered trying to stay awake. you’re leaning into your pillow while you listened to him. there was a short pause before he sighs, “i miss you so much princess.” his breath hitches, looking up at the ceiling. “can’t wait to come home to you baby. going to fuck you like all the fantasies in my head.” his breath hitches, hearing him shift from his bed on the other side. your hand unconsciously makes its way underneath your shorts.

“i’m tired of fucking my fist to the thought of you, missing the way your cunts so tight around me.” he’s breathing more heavily. you already knew he was touching himself, pushing you to fuck yourself on your fingers. “i need you right here baby i need to take care of you.” you mewl, heart feeling so heavy as you yearn for the touch of your lover so far away. “turn on your video baby, let me show you how much i’ve been missing you.”

sohee ☆ your back’s leaning against the headboard of your bed while sohee takes his place in between your thighs. sucking on your clothed cunt, mixing his spit and your slick on your cotton panties. it’s so filthy the way he’s eating you, every single movement had an audible trigger than set you arching your back and pulling on his hair. his hands are massaging the plush of your skin, teasing you and taking his time. but of course, it’s not fair when you’re the only one being teased. “bet you always think of eating me out like this.” it was unexpected to hear his sweet girl provoking him, it got his heart pounding in his chest. rutting his hard on against the mattress while he slipped your panties to the side to lick a stripe.

you gasp softly, but you refuse to falter, needing to rile him up some more to see if he’d break. “i think about you alot sohee…” he hums against your cunt as a response. sending shivers down your spine as the vibrations spread along your cunt. “i think about how you were always meant to fuck me with your tongue.” it was his breaking point. while sohee loved eating you out he just couldn’t contain it anymore. needing to fuck you himself and show you everything that’s been keeping him up at night. “this is how i like to fuck you in my dreams baby. so fucking take it.”

anton ☆ refuses to say anything at all. but an anton that’s dozing off is definitely the most honest. cuddling up close to him, drawing shapes on his stomach while he leaned onto your touch. his hand does the same to your waist, drawing hearts then lifting the hem of top slightly. mindlessly pulling the fabric up and down and he’s staring onto the exposed skin. he yawns and you think it’s cute, and you decided to gently coax him. “did you miss me today?” you say softly, nuzzling your head on his chest. “of course baby i always do when we’re apart.” it slightly hurts when he’s innocently oblivious to your advances. your hand slowly making it’s way to his crotch and he let’s you, half lidded eyes watching you tease him by pulling in the garter if his pyjamas.

his breath staggers as he feels your cold finger tips along his happy trail. then slowly palming him through his boxers. “yeah? you also think about me doing things like this?” he moans softly, kissing the top of your head. hands now moving under your top, cupping your bare chest. “and more.” he says.

if anton were wide awake he would rather turn the attention on you, making you shy away from him and he’d always bring you back to look at him with eyes with tears that threatened to spill. but this isn’t the typical anton this was anton with tired eyes and a fuzzy head. “yeah?” you ask, wanting to get more out of him. words leaving his mouth so smoothly, unaware of his own confessions that lacked self awareness. he whimpers when you’ve finally touched him, pulling on the waistband and he hisses from the cold of the ac. “thought about you,” he says with staggered breaths whilst trying to reach for your clothed clit. “thought about you cumming on my face.” you sigh contently, lifting your hips to let his hand slip down your shorts. “you’re so wet baby. are you sensitive?” you giggle. you couldn’t take him seriously when he’s slurring his words. sleep wanting to overcome but he’s blood all flowed down to his cock that’s twitching in your palm.

note . . . i went overboard on anton’s part oops ! i’ll definitely write more about a half-awake anton i need him and his happy trail !!! please also send me some riize thirsts i’d do my best to get back to it and write you a little something :p

© hyuckfull ❥ do not repost/translate/modify/copy and recommend my work outside this site! reblogs and comments are appreciated!

[xoxopuffsz]

ok this is p specific but i love ur smut and i would like to request a fic where azul is in a relationship w yuu, and during his mating season he sneaks them off to a classroom for a quickie, but idia is watching it through the cameras and jerking off 🙏🙏🙏🙏 PRETTY PLEASE

AN: when I read this I had to stop for a moment and think but I mean YOU SAID PRETTY PLEASE SO SURE 😓 — MINORS DNI, all chars are aged up, f!y/n and well creepy Idia, Azul being an absolute crazed maniac, enjoy!

❤︎ — “Can you hear me? Can you see me?”

Although most people would’ve relatively catched on in the frantic Azul, his urges were something he usually was able to hide pretty well, and of course, who said that at the end of the day his pretty girlfriend wasn’t going to.. help him?

As you carried a dirty tray to the garbage, a small kiss is pressed on your cheek by an alone Azul, who had wondered off when his two eel companions weren’t looking. “My dear, can you.. come with me for a second?” He mumbles in your ear, the single breath of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

it’s not until he locks you in the nearby classroom that he realizes what’s going on, his lips finding yours frantically as his hands unbuckle your belt, practically ripping them off.

“Fuck me,” he whispers “I’m sorry. ‘m sorry I’m being so vulgar my dear but I’m begging you I need some type of release.” He mumbles, kisses making the heat pool in-between your legs as he quickly takes them off.

Although, it’s seemed maybe Azul wasn’t the only one enjoying the experience.

Idia had made a habit of checking and placing cameras all over the school, for his own pleasure of course, to either keep intel of people or maybe see them goof around when his games are getting updated,

But seeing the only girl in NRC getting rammed by her boyfriend, and club mate of his? Now that was gold.

His first impression? Maybe get off the cameras for a while and check if there was anything better to do, but yet he couldn’t help notice the sounds emitting into the cameras speakers, the moans coming from both you and his dear friend Azul, and the way he quickly discarded of his belt to be able to push in his member into your underwear, a quickie, it seemed.

Idia was.. well, turned on to say the least, and no one usually came into his room, so the best thing that came to his mind was to get off of the person he usually got along with and the pretty girl he’d watch from a distance, slender and pale fingers touching his own member to get off, and of course, once the shame sits in his pink hair emitting a pretty light as he lets out a groan, his hoodie covering his own mouth, as he watches you and Azul.

Oh and as for you two, sevens was it good. Azul was always against things like this, he felt is was ‘unprofessional’ and ‘unsanitary’ but oh did it feel good. His hips pressing onto you as the cloth of your pantries rubbed against him, and the way his tip pressed against your sensitive clit, his lips felt so.. so good against yours.

His hands gripped your thighs, tongue tied against yours, and he had the audacity to moan into your mouth, small “s’good” and “need more”s being heard as he finally came into your stomach.

As for the one watching you two, his hand slowly dragged down his tip and girth, pathetic whimpers escaping his mouth as he watched the both of you move, moans entering his ears from his headphones, the delicacy and richness of the audio giving him the impulse to finally cum, getting on his pants.

Until he listens to Azul say,

“You ever feel like we’re being watched?”

— ❤︎ AN: I hope you like it chat it took me like an hour and also my head is killing me 🙁

[cheezeybread]

ahhhhh— those hcs for octavinelle with the teasing s/o are so darn cute! it’s okay if i ask for a scenario like the one from when we first met the twins (when we are looking for students who could be harmed in that game) and floyd is just going to squeeze the s/o but instead of backing away like the heartlsabyul boys, the s/o actually leans in and hug him back with a smile because that’s how people greet each other where they came from? and floyd just stands there like: “wait… you were supposed to run so i could chase ya!”

i’m from a latin country and here we always greet or say bye to each other with hugs/kisses and we are just that clingy lmao

Heck yeah, I gotchu! ^^

Sort of ooc Floyd?? I have a headache rn so it's hard to write XD sorrrrryyyyyyyy

◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈

"Yo, yo, yo, what is UP, little goldfishie!" One of the twins yelled out with a giant smile on his face. It would have been a goofy look on anybody else, but those giant razor-sharp teeth made you think twice- and wait, was that a second pair of teeth deeper in his mouth??

Knowing that the whole group was caught, you all moved to be in the full sight of the twins, Ace and Deuce muttering something amongst themselves about how creepy the two were, while Riddle was attempting to firmly chastise the one who called out to him about using silly nicknames. The stern voice Riddle used was apparently not working on the twin, seeing as how he just kept on with that huge smile, his eyes wide.

"But you're so small and red, how are you not a goldfish?" The twin was saying with a laugh- from what you could overhear from Cater, this one was Floyd, which made the quieter one...Jade, was it?

Grim tugged at your sleeve, pulling you down a little closer to his level as he conspiratorially whispered to you "This guy seems like he's a few cans short of a tuna casserole-"

Unfortunately, his voice brought made Floyd aware of his presence, as the eel jerked his head to the side to stare at the direbeast with a crazed look "A talking cat? Now THAT'S something you don't see every day! Can I squeeze you 'til you pop?"

Grim looked panicked, and hid behind your leg....as if you would be much protection, as a magic-less human. Thanks, so-called buddy. "Uh, no? Stay away from me, weirdo!"

Floyd didn't seem too disappointed, instead turning his attention onto you. Behind his looming form, you could just barely make out his brother talking to the others in the group with a cold look "Ain't you that no-magic shrimp that crashed orientation?" He asked, tilting his head.

"Uh, yep. That's, uhm, that's me," You said, mustering up a smile "Shrimp?"

"That's what you are, ain'tcha?" Floyd cackled like a maniac, closing the distance between you two with one stride of his long legs. His arms reached out menacingly, his hands almost looking like claws as he wrapped his arms around you, picking you up off the ground with no trouble at all "Awwww, lookit, Jade, I got me a little shrimpy!"

Instead of running away, like Grim did, you managed to wiggle your arms out of his grip enough to return the hug- that was what this was, after all? It was almost an instinctual reaction, muscle memory from your own world. Physical contact was normal, expected, even. It was how people showed their love for one another, their respect, and even greeted. That's what Floyd was doing now, wasn't it?

Granted, he was holding you so tight that some of your joints popped, but maybe he was just a little overeager.

"Oh- aw, what?!" The twin cried out, setting you down quickly. He gave you a confused look, an eyebrow raised as he stared you down "You're supposed to wriggle away and run! That's half the fun!"

Now you were confused. Wasn't that a greeting-hug, or was he just someone who liked to chase people down with threats of affection?? You made a mental note to ask one of the Sophmores later.

"I thought you just wanted a hug!" You said out loud, sounding just as confused as he was.

Floyd looked back at Jade to get his reaction, but Jade was too busy making threats to notice. So he turned back around towards you and Grim and frowned "You were supposed to run so I could chase ya!"

"...My bad...?" You said slowly, raising a hand up in a surrendering manner "You want to try again? I'll run this time, I swear."

He thought to himself for a moment before shaking his head "Nah, that takes the fun out of it if you're expecting it. Next time I'll getcha, I will! You just wait and see! You'll be so terrified of getting squeezed till ya pop that you run away screamin'!"

"I'll do my best," You promised.

◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈

[mediumgayitalian]

“Isn’t he dreamy.”

Nico di Angelo stands in the centre of the amphitheater arena, sword drawn, shadows leeching from his frame. Winds swirl dangerously around him, ground trembling with every step. Concentrated terror curls its smokey tendrils into the nostrils of every onlooker.

Lou Ellen levels her best friend with a look. Will is too busy with his chin in his hands, moon-eyed, to notice. He doesn’t so much as flinch when she waves her hand and changed his freckles to glow bright purple, so she leaves them like that out of spite. Sucker.

“…I mean, he did just unseam that automaton nave to chaps, MacBeth-style, and cackled maniacally into the air. So.”

Will sighs. “I know.” The dust of the amphitheatre floor is covered in finger-drawn hearts. Lou Ellen is embarrassed for him. “He’s just so — gods. Look at his smile.”

Lou Ellen does. It’s frightening. He’d taken the flat of a blade straight to the face a few minutes back, making blood stain his teeth and drip out the corner of his mouth.

“And his eyes sparkle. Do you think they’re more…moonstone, or agate?”

Crazed. Lou Ellen thinks his eyes look crazed. The sparkle in question may simply be the reflection of the tip of the dagger that has appeared in his non-sword hand, which appears to be made of sharpened human bone. Lou Ellen wonders, morbidly, what bone it is for about point three seconds before Will sways — genuinely sways! — and says, “And the way he handles that femur! Oh!”

“Dude,” she says, aghast. “Will, man, get ahold of yourself.”

There’s a thunk as her best friend throws himself dramatically upon the ground. His wrist is poised delicately on his forehead, face twisted pitifully. She rolls her eyes hard enough that she actually goes blind for a brief second and falls off the bench in panic. Will seems pleased that she’s joined him on the floor.

“I can’t. He’s too beautiful.”

Lou Ellen cranes up her neck.

“A nine year old just looked at him and cried.”

His sigh is more wistful than dreamy, this time. “He’s gonna be a great dad someday.”

“…Good gods, Solace.”

Will’s voice softens. “I’m gonna marry him, Ellie.” When she looks over, the smile on his face is just plain loving. She follows his eyes and sees Nico panting, training on pause, gesturing wildly with one hand and loosely holding a water bottle in the other. She’s never seen him so animated. The class he’s teaching watches him in a predictable mix of awe and horror, erring on the side of terrified.

Lou Ellen will admit, in the very recesses of her mind (let Will get a bigger head than he already has), that it is a little charming.

A little.

“I know, you goober,” she murmurs, cuffing him on the shoulder. He doesn’t even flinch. “I call dibs on flower girl.”

[moongeonight]

Crazy employees

Summary: Alastor feels the need to bother Lucifer for his own satisfaction, he decides that Niffty will do the dirty work.

A/N: I beat writer's block! For now... Tell me if you want a second part of this! (This is a tickle fic!)

(update) here part 2 👉🏼 Crazy employees part 2

--------------------------

It was a normal day at the hotel, Lucifer had decided to stay at Charlie's hotel for a few days to see how everything worked, with the misfortune of having to live with Alastor.

Let's say that Alastor... hated him, And he hated him too, every time they crossed paths for some reason, they exchanged murderous looks.

But it was Alastor who wanted to take the first step in this silent war, since he accidentally saw a scene of Charlie and his dad, he discovered quite valuable information.

he saw that niffty was killing cockroaches and his smile grew wider.

"niffty! Come here!"

The little demon quickly rushed to hear what the radio demon had to say and she replied without hesitation.

"Yes, alastor! What is it? Do you need me to kill more cockroaches?" Niffty said with her usual crazed smile.

"Not this time, I need you to do a job for me, it has to do with Lucifer"

Niffty’s face lights up in excitement, she is easily enticed by the mere mention of Lucifer as she asks with a crazy grin.

“What do you need me to do?”

"Oh, it's something very simple..." Alastor said whispering to her what his little plan was to annoy to that damn of Lucifer...

Niffty’s face lit up again when she heard the plan, She giggled with delight and grabbed her feather duster and said with excitement.

"Alright then! I’m on it!"

Niffty dashed off to get in position to catch Lucifer off-guard, giggling with anticipation for the upcoming caos.

Alastor just laughed as he disappeared into the shadows with a sadistic smile waiting to appreciate the spectacle from afar.

....

Lucifer was currently resting in a small armchair trying to ignore the annoyance that Alastor had been these days.

Him being annoying was nothing new but he seemed to have upped his assholery in recent days… it was really getting on lucifer’s nerves.

But while he was still in his thoughts, he suddenly feel a little demon snuck up from behind, giggling like a maniac, who gave Lucifer a slight tap on his side using a feather duster.

Lucifer jumps up in a bit of a panic, spinning round to see who was there.

“WHAT IN THE- Oh it’s just you um... Niffty right?….” He seemed to calm down as he sat back down in the chair, resting his head on his fist.

"W-what are you doing here?"

Niffty giggled with mischief, her excitement growing stronger as she spoke, her grin stretched across her face as she replied.

“I was just tidying the room and thought I should say hello!” She replied as if it were obvious, yet the mischievous twinkling in her eye was evident that she had other intentions at hand.

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, staring at Niffty with suspicion as he spoke slowly.

“Niffty… What are you really doing with that feather duster? Because... well it doesn’t look like you’ve done any cleaning at all” He said looking around the room in general.

She smiled in amusement at Lucifer’s suspicions, as he was quite obviously onto her.

“Well, maybe I might have other intentions with this feather duster, maybe something more nefarious!

As she speaks, she gives Lucifer a small little tickle on his side with the feather duster, It wasn’t too strong, but enough to catch him off guard.

Lucifer gasped and laughed as he was tickled. "Hehehey...! N-Niffty what are you-" He was cut off as Niffty continued to tickle him causing him to laugh more.

"Niffty! stohohop...! hehe... Hahahaha! p-plus I don’t think that feather duster is meant to be used on people… hahaha! plehehease put it down!” Lucifer sounded genuinely concerned at the moment.

Niffty couldn’t help but smirk and giggle at Lucifer’s reaction as his attempts to convince her to stop only made her giggle even more.

With him laughing so much, Niffty decided to take advantage of the situation and climb up onto his couch and cling to him with her arms wrapped around him.

“Hmm no no no!, we can’t have you being ticklish! We have to fix that!” She giggled as she began to tickle him even more, using both hands this time on his sides, making sure not to stop.

“WAIT! How is thihihihs supposed to hehehelp me?! Niffty! nononohoho! please st-stop! Hahaha! I’m too ticklish haha! O-oh god… that’s too much! Hehehe please… gasp stop! Hehehehe!”

Lucifer was really trying his best to free himself from niffty’s grasp but when he finally was able to grab her and throw her to the ground, she would just simply go back to climbing on him and continuing to tickle him.

He could feel himself being exhausted from the constant laughter as his breath became heavy.

“N-Niffty… plehehease! Hehe… st-stop! Hahaha! you’re gonna… hehe make… me hahahaha! p-pass out…!”

Niffty didn’t pay any mind as she saw his struggles, she only saw it as part of the fun.

“so ticklish, so much fun!” She giggled as she didn’t let up on the tickling. “Hehe, you’re not getting rid of me just yet!”

She used her now free hand and began to tickl under his arms, adding on to his many spots of ticklishness.

Lucifer let out a giggle of pure desperation as Niffty continued to tickle him until he began to feel his sides becoming sore as he began to squirm more violently.

“Niffty…! oh god HAHAHA!… PLEASE…! HAHAHA! I-I beg you n-not... t-the armpits hehehe…HAHAHAHA! NOT MY ARMPITS!” Lucifer began to laugh hysterically.

The demon simply giggled as she heard Lucifer’s pleas, she found it quite funny how desperate he was.

“Oh oh oh, ticklish armpits are we? Hehe how interesting!” Niffty giggled before wrapping her legs around Lucifer’s side as well, Now with both of his sides tickled mercilessly, his desperate laughs only fueled her excitement.

Lucifer had completely exhausted his voice at this point as Niffty was still doing her usual teasing, His muscles were tense and sore and his breathing heavy as Niffty had continued to tickle and hold onto him.

At this point Lucifer was just asking for help from Charlie or whoever would listen to him so they would take the crazy maid away from him.

Lucifer made a small and desperate squeak of embarrassment as he looked around desperately hoping someone could come and save him from niffty.

"CHAHAHARLIE! HAHAHA! Somebody...!! Plehehease take her off me!!"

suddenly lucifer heard footsteps approaching including slow applause.

"You did well niffty!" It was Alastor with his typical sadistic smile while Niffty smiled back at him and got off Lucifer to go with Alastor.

Lucifer was completely breathless as he took a second to calm himself before looking at alastor, his eyes narrowed as he looked at him.

So niffty was with alastor? ...Oh he was the one who told her to tickle me! That damn son of a bitch!

Lucifer was very obviously annoyed by alastor’s actions and wasn’t letting it slide, He was just about to yell at alastor for what he and niffty did but he was interrupted by niffty happily skipping along by alastor side before waving goodbye

Lucifer looked as niffty waved at him with a cheeky smirk before alastor dragged her away with him laughing the whole way.

"nice laugh your highness"

Lucifer sighed and put a hand to his forehead as he looked at the floor with anger in his eyes, he sat in his armchair in the hotel room just thinking about everything that had happened and was still fuming, he was still so angry at alastor for what he had put him through.

He wasn’t going to just let this slide, he was going to get payback and that’s final.

[dekusleftsock]

I thought everyone was exaggerating when people kept bringing up the whole “bakugou says he’s Kacchan bc of kaminari” thing, but they actually believe that… what?

WHAT

Literally how do you guys function

AND THEY CALL ME DELULU???????

It’s such a stretch too. Like “oh yeah he said Kacchan no Bakugou in this movie” ITS NOT EVEN IN THE MANGA HELLO???

The whole reason Kaminari calls Katsuki Kacchan is because he’s making fun of him. It’s poking fun at the fact that Katsuki can’t say anything or get mad at Kaminari because then it would raise the question, “Well why can Midoriya say it?”

He literally side eyes him every time he does it but ultimately doesn’t react because he can’t. He can’t if he wants to keep up the act that he is uninterested in what Izuku represents, who he is.

SO WHY, IN THE EVER LOVING FUCK, WOULD IT BE KAMINARI?

WHO is present in this battle?

WHO is the person that made eye contact with him the second he woke up?

WHO is the one that grabbed his hand immediately upon Katsuki flinging himself towards them??

I don’t think THEY even believe it either, I think it’s just some way to cope and explain away the fact that this moment is inherently romantic.

Because I don’t think he’s making fun of the name Kacchan, I think he’s wearing it proudly. I don’t think it’s a joke at all. It’s a joke in the disbelieving way—the way you act when you’ve made an enormous accomplishment or won some prize, and you just can’t help but act absolutely insane at the fact. Because it’s funny that you’re here, in this situation. It’s hilarious in that disbelieving way.

Because he’s laughing at the truth, he’s been laughing at nothing this ENTIRE CHAPTER.

“Ouch! Haha! I’m so fast!”

“I can’t even stop! Ha! Ouch!”

Note: (I’m not using the official translations because for some reason they lack the maniacal crazed laughter and I’m confused as to why?? I even checked with pikahlua and they specified that there was laughing so…. I’m confused.)

What’s even weirder about this is the fact that afo also says (in pikahlua’s translations) “just who is this brat?!” Instead of “what is wrong with him” which implies less crazed bakugou ness imo. Confused as to why, again.

Because this can’t be happening.

Now, I know it could very well be him teasing afo and calling him dumb, saying basically “you’re too young/old to even know how to pronounce my name, use Kacchan instead like the child you are.” Especially since in the context of names like Katsuki’s, he has that tsu sound that can be hard for children to pronounce. (I’m not 100% on this but I’m pretty sure that the u sound is also meant to be silent since it’s a double consonant. So Katsuki’s name is technically pronounced “Ka-ts-ki”)

BUT IDK I THINK HES JUST FUCKED AND A LITTLE CRAZY RN!

That maniacal laughter at the fact that he’s in pain, the disbelief that he may even surpass Izuku, to me it’s holding a double meaning. The meaning that afo is dumb and needs to be treated like the child he is, and the meaning behind the fact that it’s a name Izuku owns for him. That’s his.

It can be both.

It’s not fucking Kaminari. It was never Kaminari. Even if you don’t read it as the second definition it’s still not about Kaminari.

But it’s also undeniable that it has to do with Izuku some way some how.

I also believe that the western side of the fandom is making an extra big deal out of this because, to us, we don’t really have a proper understanding of what a nickname like Kacchan means in its cultural context.

We can TRY to understand, comparing it to endings with ie or y given to children, and then sometimes going with that nickname into adulthood, but it still has its own distinct cultural context. Because a name like “Gracie” over “Grace” does to an extent sound childish, but I have a feeling that -chan has its own childish feeling. There’s a reason none of Katsuki’s other friends in middle school call him Kacchan, and there’s a reason Kaminari decides to make fun of him for the name in the first place.

I just think it’s important to use our thinking brains before we start yapping about things we don’t quite understand yet :)

Like it’s so unbelievably important to understand that horikoshi won’t tell you what’s happening in his story and why, he’ll show you instead BECAUSE HES A GOOD FUCKING WRITER

If it was about Kaminari, he would have specified, but he didn’t. He showed you that Kacchan is Izuku’s nickname for Katsuki, and he showed you that Katsuki cared more about Izuku than he let on for a long time. Just like he showed you that Izuku pushes down his emotions, showed you that Izuku struggles with projection and anger, showed you that Ochako was the one with this crush and not Izuku, and showed you that the feelings he had about Katsuki were deeper than anyone had realized.

He showed you parallels, he specified the important parallels that you absolutely had to see as a viewer (ex toga and ochako), just as he showed you the ones that were more subtle but still there (ex toga and deku). He showed you the pieces, and that doesn’t make his character’s underdeveloped or unspecified, that’s just how writing fucking works. “Good writing” DOESNT MEAN that you have to be pulled along through your baby steps with your hand held, the fact that you don’t get it is on you. Reading comprehension is a learned skill that has to be practiced over and over again, and that is not the writers job. The writer is only supposed to deliver you their story, and however you decide to misconstrue that story is, and hear me out friends, on you.

So I’m sorry if I’m tired of hearing arguments like “toga is a predator and Horikoshi wrote her to be horny”… she’s supposed to represent love. I’m sorry if the representation he made of love was uncomfortable for you, but maybe that’s the point? Because she’s an outcast? Because she’s supposed to be hard to empathize with, but that we have to empathize in the first place?

Arguments like “Katsuki was referencing a joke about Kaminari bc Kaminari said this in this movie” is just about the largest fucking reach I’ve ever seen. And I know, I know that when bkdk eventually get their implied or canonical ending that people are going to be mad. They’ll blame shippers for pressuring him, or they’ll say he’s a bad writer, or they’ll send him homophobic slurs because “how dare the character I see myself in be gay”. And I’m done with the stupidity and lack of common god damn sense.

So if you are going to be upset by the fact that you’re going to be proven wrong, then I again say, it’s on you.

[starry-bi-sky]

Au where one day Daniel Thomas Fenton, 16 years old, retired ghost vigilante finally decides to tell his parents about the Accident when he was fourteen.

It… doesn’t end well. To say the least. Physically? Danny’s fine. But it blows up into a huge argument that ends with Danny getting disowned. And Danny, sick and tired of the years of neglect and fear and hate that’s radiated his house for years. Well, he just leaves. He doesn’t want to be part of the Fenton Family, he wants nothing to do with it.

He changes his name. Daniel Thomas Fenton to Thomas Nightingale. Before he was born, his parents asked Jazz what she thought her brother’s name would be. Two years old, she said Tommy. So when Danny was born, he was named Daniel Thomas Fenton.

Danny might not wanted to have been connected to the Fenton family, but he still wanted to be connected to his sister. He leaves town, but they keep in contact. And he stays in touch with Sam and Tucker too. They, along with Jazz, helped him change his name.

For the sake of continuity, I’ll keep calling him Danny.

A few months after Danny leaves Amity Park, he catches news from Eli. His little sisterdaughterclone contacting him to let him know that she snuck into Vlad’s to cause some mischief, and discovered that he was at it again.

He’d cloned Danny again. And this time it looked like it might be a successful boy. He was a baby. Danny rushed over to Vlad’s as fast as possible.

It wasn’t hard to break into the lab. Vlad was as cocky as he was stupid, and Danny had long since learned his tricks. The baby was being cared for by the vulture henchmen that Vlad used. Who were about as competent at taking care of a baby as the three fairies were in Maleficent.

Danny stole all information about the clone — how he was made, what Vlad did. Everything.

Turns out, the baby was more Danny’s son than he was a clone. Vlad had somehow rubbed two braincells together hard enough to have an epiphany of some sort. Rather than use Danny’s unstable DNA to make a clone from scratch, he used Danny’s DNA and an unnamed girl his age to make him.

(Safe to say, Danny was seriously creeped out.)

He also, somehow, figured out why Eli came out as Danielle rather than Daniel. It was the same reason that Danny’s suit went from white to black and his hair black to white when he went ghost. It was the ectoplasm’s weird inverting properties. Vlad had tried to make a male clone, but the ectoplasm he used inverted to make a girl. So, he tried the same thing, and instead tried to make a girl. The ectoplasm made the baby girl into a baby boy.

He had also, Danny seriously bet it was unintentional, somehow made the baby completely, utterly human. Well, almost completely human. The little boy was liminal in the same way Jazz was, with the minuscule changes to match. Sharper canines, a small ghostly sense, and eery eyes.

All in all, the baby was useless to Vlad. He didn’t have the powers Vlad wanted. Which Danny bet dollar to dollar was the biggest drawback to the egomaniac.

Well, what one crazed maniac found useless, Danny found he adored. It didn’t take long to dispatch the vultures, and Danny found himself hovering over the baby’s crib, unsure of what to do as the little boy’s bright blue eyes stared up at him with innocent wonder. He didn’t even know to fear strangers yet.

“Hello,” he said softly, and lowered his feet to the floor, changing back from ghost to human. “I’m Thomas.” He’d developed a weariness to his original name after Dan, and after his disownment, disliked it entirely.

The baby latched onto Danny’s finger with a gurgle, and that was it. Close the book, the end. Danny’s heart squeezed itself in his chest, a low coo trapped itself in his throat. And with hands that had never held something so small before, he picked him up.

“I bet he was gonna name you Daniel, wasn’t he?” He asked, trying to remember what the safest way to hold a baby that couldn’t keep its head up was. He cradled the baby to his chest. “He’s crazy. Don’t worry, I’ll take you with me.”

The baby just stared up at him, one chubby hand crushing his shirt. Danny couldn’t help but smile, now he knew why people always got so mushy around babies. There was so much to love about them. “I’ll come up with a better name.” He said, and walked away from the crib — there was probably something in Vlad’s lab that helped the baby. Some kinda diaper bag or something?

As he looked, he wracked his head for names. As well as that, he tried to think about what to do moving forward. The baby wasn’t like Eli, who was independent enough that she traveled the world and did whatever she wanted. He was a baby. Tiny, vulnerable, dependent. And legally, he didn’t exist.

“Why don’t I call you Bruce?” He said aloud, looking back down to the baby. Bruce. He liked the name. Bruce just looked up at him, and then tried to eat his shirt.

Danny didn’t think it was possible to fall in love so fast. “Okay, Bruce it is then.” He was smiling ear to ear. “Hi, Bruce.”

He found a diaper bag soon enough, it was near Bruce’s crib, tucked on it’s side under a chair. Danny slung it over his shoulder, switched forms, and flew out of the mansion

…

First thing to know about taking care of babies; it was hard. Danny flew miles from Vlad’s house, intangible and invisible, before he finally stopped at a gas station. He switched back, and then called Jazz

Who… immediately tore into him for making such a reckless, impulsive choice to go willingly into Vlad’s house

(Eli was a snitch)

(But not a big enough snitch apparently, she left the surprise baby to Danny to talk about)

And after the subsequent tearing into, Danny told her about Bruce

“What are you gonna do with him?”

“I’m not sure. I can’t just *leave* him. He’s so small Jazz.”

“Are you gonna keep him with you little brother?”

“…”

“…Just until I can figure something out.”

“I’ll send you some articles about taking care of babies then.”

Danny undeniably gets attached

He swore he’d figure something out by the end of the week. One week stretched into two. Two stretched to a month. And then a few months. And then Bruce was learning how to crawl, and he was babbling.

And he was just as attached to Danny as Danny was to Bruce.

Danny was all the way northeast by then, finding himself in Gotham. He was seventeen now, almost an adult in the eyes of the law. He was going to stay a week, if even that long, in Gotham.

And then he saved an eccentric elderly couple from being mugged. And by the end of the week he was staying in the elusive Wayne Family Manor as a special guest.

The Waynes were childless. They’d had tried for years to get a son, until eventually they gave up on it. But if you looked at their younger portraits, you’d think Danny was theirs by birth.

Days turned to weeks to months to nearly a year. And then more. Bruce was walking now, and he called Danny ���daddy’ and he was still just as clingy as he was when he was on bottles.

Danny adored him.

And the Wayne couple were so kind to him. Danny had waited for weeks for the other shoe to drop. Nobody this rich was this kind, at least not anyone that Danny had encountered besides Sam, and Sam’s family were guppies in a pond compared to the behemoths that were the Waynes.

There was no other shoe drop. The Waynes never expected anything from Danny other than he ate well and slept well and that he stay as long as he like. They didn’t force him into attending anything, not their rich people parties or events, nothing. They bought him clothes and let him decorate his room, and spoiled Bruce positively rotten.

Danny quietly, where no one but his thoughts could hear, started to think they were better parents than the ones who gave birth to him. It changed things.

On Danny’s eighteenth birthday, the Waynes gifted him adoption papers. Danny couldn’t have grabbed his pen faster.

Danny Fenton became Thomas Nightingale, and Thomas Nightingale because Thomas and Bruce Nightingale.

Then, finally, Thomas and Bruce Nightingale became Thomas and Bruce Wayne.

[corruptsyd]

I know you are a female!Sydney enjoyer, so I would like to add, as a bisexual, that it is just as bad with male Sydney. There are lines that show Sydney has some sadistic tendencies, but there’s many more lines proving Sydney is a masochist. And where is the in-game evidence of Sydney being a dom? Sydney is so submissive leaning that they naturally listen to Sirris, Jordan, the player.

you get me anon… they literally want to be dommed by pc so bad that they’re going to change the game code themselves so that pc can properly dom them LMAO

to me syd is a switch who prefers to be submissive but even when they’re domming pc they aren’t mean…. i don’t understand the fanon portrayal of corrupt syd being as much as a sadist as whitney?they can be a little pushy but are otherwise always respectful of consent. they’re just releasing all of their bottled up and repressed teenage horniness at once ok.

i’m not one to really take canon so seriously and i’m happy to ignore details but when it comes to people depicting corrupt!syd as this crazed sex maniac sadist….. it’s like. Huh. do i need to remind you that this is the sydney that locks themselves up with handcuffs and does the whole “oh nooo i accidentally dropped the key.. hehe i’m so vulnerable… what will you do to me…” bit. like be so fr this is not a dom.

personal headcanon: in the same way that sirris is all about safe sex and sex positivity, i feel like sydney is kind of a nerd about it as well fhdhufwbhd. she’s all about everything being Safe Sane and Consensual and making sure you’re both comfortable. she studies safe impact play and choking and bondage like she’s studying for an exam. best way i can say it is that she’s autistic and kinky lesbian sex is her special interest.

[falsepirit]

anything for you 💣 [junkrat]

content warning: yandere, typical junkrat shenanigans.

You weren’t sure why this was happening. You weren’t sure why you didn’t catch on earlier.

Everywhere you went, catastrophe would follow you. You thought you were merely down on your luck, moving to areas often targeted by criminals. You should’ve realized something was off when acts of arson, murder, and thievery would live in your shadows no matter which country you were in.

This leads you to now: curled up, hiding inside a cardboard box in your bedroom that you never bothered unpacking, knowing you were bound to move once again eventually. You just didn’t think you’d ever meet the reason why you’ve had to keep yourself on the run, keep your name from being tied to crimes you never even dreamt of doing.

“C’mon, love. Won’tcha make it easy for a good bloke like me? I’ve been trying real hard to find you!”

His voice is harsh, strident words roaring through your apartment’s thin walls. You’re not sure what’s worse; the sound of uneven footsteps getting louder or the smell of gunpowder and fumes that’s begun to seep into your room. You feel your eyes well up in tears—you can’t tell if it’s from the smoke or sheer fear of your current predicament.

It’s not long before your door is kicked open, the man stomping into your room and bringing the smell of fire with him. “Come on out already, I’m dyin’ to take a gander at that pretty lil’ face of yours again,” you hear him call out, a crazed giggle following—and when you stay quiet and hidden out of sight, you flinch at the sound of him taking out his frustration on your possessions.

“Please, please, please,” he says. Metal clinks and creaks with each word; you wonder what on earth he’s got on him to be making such mechanical noises. “I’ve gotta see ya again. You've got me all out of sorts n’ you're the pick-me-up I swear I need bad.”

You can hear him cursing, crying out incoherent sentences out of desperation, maybe even insanity. No sane man would follow you across the globe, leaving bomb attacks in his wake.

Thud, thud, thud. The sounds of your belongings being thrown left and right, most likely with intentions of looking for any traces of you still in the room. Then goes the sound of your mirror shattering, your wardrobe’s doors being thrown open, your desk being shoved onto the ground, all the items you left on top coming down with it—

—then, there is nothing.

Your panicked heartbeat thrums in your ears. You can vaguely make out the cracking of fire, the man’s heavy breathing. Swallowing hard, you bundle up into yourself, praying that maybe, just maybe, he would give up on you and leave. Then, you’d pack up the remains of your things, move out of the country again, this time somewhere more rural, more off the map. Maybe if you had initially done that, you wouldn’t be here in the first place.

Oh, who were you kidding? This maniac had killed hundreds, set fire to a plentiful number of neighborhoods just to catch your attention. You have a gut feeling that if you tried escaping to the moon, he’d be there, too, bloodthirsty spree and all.

The thought of it—of him sacrificing so many innocent lives, so many homes just for your sake—makes you sick. The more you think about your neighbors all possibly being dead, the more your composure trembles, barely clinging onto a thread. It was too much. Too much responsibility for things you never asked to happen.

Before you realize it, you let out a terrified sob, tears spilling down your cheeks.

A relieved cackle echoes with the fire crackling. In an almost nauseatingly sweet tone, the man coos: “There you are! Been looking everywhere for you, love. I've nearly torn the whole damn place apart.”

You never asked for this. You never asked to be stuck in this situation. You never asked to be dragged out of the box by your arms, you never asked to be pressed against a lean body that belonged to a ruthless murderer.

You want to struggle and push him away, but all you can manage is a weak-hearted jab to his arm, only to hit metal instead of flesh. The sensation of warm metal leaves you confused, blinking away your tears, finally looking up at the man who’s been terrorizing you for the past few years.

He’s tall. Much taller than you. Where your head only reaches his shirtless chest, he has to look down just to get a good look at you; you’re faced with a blond man with sharp features, soot-stained skin, a wicked grin, and hazel eyes filled with a fondness that leaves you sick to your stomach.

“God, fuck, you’re way prettier up close,” the man says, a little breathless. A gloved hand runs up the spine of your back to hold you closer to him, resting at the nape of your neck. His smile grows wider at the way you shudder at his touch. “Can’t believe I’ve finally got ya in me arms. Pinch me if this is all a dream.”

Oh, how badly you wished this were all a dream. You try to pull your body away from his, but he only brings his body closer, his other hand—a prosthetic, but much more old-fashioned than most prosthetics you were familiar with—coming to rest under your thigh. You wiggle around in his grasp in an attempt to shake off the hand on your thigh, shaking your head in fear when he holds on tighter.

With a sudden heave, you squeak as you’re lifted into the air. On instinct, you wrap your legs around his body and cling onto his neck to keep yourself from falling off; the hand on your neck runs through your hair tenderly, almost like a reward for your cooperation.

The man hushes you while he cradles you against his body. “S’alright, babe, Jamison’s got ya. We’re gonna live happily ever after once I get you back home, you and I. Won’t have ta worry yer pretty lil’ head off now that I’m ‘ere.”

Sniffling, you raise your head to peer over this psychopath’s—no, Jamison’s shoulder. Your breath is caught in your throat when you notice the number of explosives strapped onto his body, a stark contrast to the way his hand comfortingly pets you. Any attempt at thrashing about would result in a bang and your limbs missing.

Your eyes flit across your room, from the rubble of your walls to your ruined furniture, until you manage to find the window.

Breath heavy from panic, you break down at the sight outside your apartment complex: almost every building within a nearby vicinity has smoke coming from it, some barely on the verge of standing and some completely collapsed. Smoke rises from the trail of wreckage left behind by Jamison, with corpses of humans and omnics alike following.

It’s all too surreal. This can’t be what he’s been doing continuously for years, stalking you to every place you’ve moved to—no, it can’t be. You couldn’t believe you were the sole reason for all the deaths and destruction Jamison’s caused just to come and claim you as his. It’s too much to comprehend, too much guilt resting heavy on your shoulders.

You don’t know what to do. You’re not sure what you’re capable of doing to save yourself anymore.

Humming, Jamison pulls the both of you away from the window and out of your bedroom. “I like ya so much love, so fucking much,” he says along the way, but it sounds almost sardonic with the devastation surrounding you. “I really do. I've never felt this hot n’ heavy ‘bout anybody else, swear on me dead body.”

He presses his lips against your neck, teeth grazing over your skin. Terrified, you hide your face against his chest, refusing to look at the horror this man could cause. “Need you to know I adore every part of ya, how lucky of a man ya make me feel with you ‘ere in me arms, fuck, darl, I’d do anything for ya, I need you to know that.”

“You’re probably knackered from all the ruckus, arent’cha? Sorry ‘bout that, I wasn’t lyin’ when I said I was dyin’ to meet ya again,” Jamison continues on. He’s right; you’re too exhausted to even sob anymore. “But we’re all good now! All that’s left is to blow this fuckin’ place to smithereens n’ we’ll be on our way to home sweet home!”

Too overwhelmed, too full of guilt—you let him take you to wherever home sweet home is.

[itshobogizmo]

As of chapter 5, what are the cast's opinions on cross?

Ooo a fun one!

Firstly, I’m not going to do Horror, because I’m actively working on 5.5, which is in Horror’s POV, and will give inside on his opinion so far anyway.

Nightmare: Cross is an overachiever with standards set far to high, but his performance and precision are unmatched.

He needs to kick the lying habit, Nightmare isn’t sure how many he’s actually caught however. He lets the one about sleeping slide, the delicious savory flavors that crept from his subject was addicting.

There’s something about the OVERWRITES he needs to discuss.

Killer: Cross is a stupid little bitch baby who like lying like a dumb liar, he’s lied about all of them to their boss, and Killer thinks it’s stupid.

Also, Nightmare is taking a liking to Cross, and Killers soul squeezes with bitter jealousy. So what if he wasn’t as fast as Cross is when doing tasks, and Cross didn’t have outbreaks at all like he did. So what if Dust got manhandled like nothing while Killer struggled to get the maniac pinned half the time. So what if Dust liked it and is starting to like Cross and not Killer anymore.

And it’s sooooo fucking aggravating when he does his best to get under Cross’s metaphorical skin, and the guy doesn’t even seem to fucking notice. Brushes Killer off, like, he’s nothing.

But this time he did it!!! He got Cross to react.

But it was boring.

With no real enjoyment.

Probably because of the weird look in his eye at the door. Then answered quiet. Killer doesn’t like quiet, quiet is fucking terrible. Why would Cross want to go into it?..

Dust: Cross could throw him any time. Anywhere. Preferably in another fight. But not with this sickly, crazed and depraved version of Cross.

He began silently following the skeleton through the week, both because he had been put on survey duty and because he wanted to make sure Cross was… a safety risk … that’s what he and paps were telling himself anyways.

Fast, focused, intelligent, driven, a god damned powerhouse with incredible reflex’s. That’s what Cross is supposed to be. Not this exhausted angry crazed thing.

There’s that twitch in Cross’s eye, the flicker to the side of Dust’s hoodie and his eye light seems to roam over Dust’s face in a wiggly but precise manner. Following something, all the way back to meet Dust’s stare.

So, much to Killers shock and later displeasure, he let Cross go. Dust knows that look in Cross’s eyes, he knows what Cross was seeing was real. As real as papyrus was to him. He’s going to have to check his own skull over again, just to make sure it wasn’t a new real thing for him to.

No use in letting Cross panic.

He’s kinda hot when he’s mad and crazed. He needs to find out the schedule to see where to admire stalk him for the day.

He wants to fight Cross again, both of their magic out, see who has more power.

[erros429]

Hi - catgirl questionnaire here and I gotta thank you for the answers! If it’s okay I have a few more questions sorry:

Does Blake have a tail?

are there many cat puns about her in the series?

I saw she has human ears and now I’m confused how does she wear head phones or something like that - does she put them on her cat or human ears or both? Does her ears get sensitive?

So what I’ve gathered if she and her GF had a kid it would be a blonde cat?

what is Blake’s actual species? I’ve seen people say people hate whatever she is - why is that?

Does her GF (is her name Yang?) tell lots of puns in general?

ok adding all these asks on one thing. let’s do this thing

1) blake does not have a tail

2) not particularly puns but there are a few jokes here and there (blake liking tuna a little bit more than is normal, yang using a laser pointer on her, her avoiding a dog by climbing a bunch of furniture. then in rwby chibi there’s the whole “cat burglar” segment, blake jumping into a box, etc)

3) i believe she would just wear the headphones on her human ears. arthur lookin ass

4) if she and yang had a kid then yes perhaps it would be a cat. idk if it’d be blonde tho. the genetics in rwby are weird even with the humans because why the hell does ruby not look anything like her father but she’s a carbon copy of her mom 🤨

5) she’s a faunus, which are people with animal traits. they’ve been historically and systematically oppressed and discriminated against. it’s just straight up racism

6) i mean. i think fanon has definitely exaggerated the whole pun thing. she’s said like maybe a solid 3-4 puns total in rwby canon, but she has said quite a few in rwby chibi. i feel like it’s important to note that a lot of yang’s early personality was purposefully one-dimensional so that the viewers would be thrown off when she shows she’s more than meets the eye. a lot of fanon kinda clings to that original impression we got from yang so the pun thing just stuck. the same way everyone sees ruby as a cookie-crazed maniac b/c she ate a bunch of cookies in the first ep lol

7) blake’s not CANONICALLY a stoner but i would not be shocked if it was just casually confirmed LMFAO

8) yea she’s so downbad for yang that she wrote a love song after being away from her for like 24 hours. shoutout volume 8 soundtrack

9) lowkey i prefer the long hair look on her 🫣 but the short hair is important for character arc symbolism reasons

10) according to the comics blake and her mom are actually both great swimmers!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 35

Sequel to Unsolicited

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

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

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

“We have to go to the hospital,” Lloyd slides the toy out of him and winces. He eases you onto your side as you can do nothing but bounce like a boulder against the mattress. “Shit, fuck, shit.”

He stands and rubs his ass. He steps around and bends over you, “ma’s gonna be so pissed.”

“Jesus, Lloyd!” You snarl, “take this thing off me, first. And put some goddamn clothes on.”

“Oh, uh,” he stands and looks down at himself, his cums sticky and shiny across his stomach as he slowly softens, “right.”

“Ugh, Christ,” you utter as you reach for the straps and unbuckle one. The task is hardly easy as even trying to lift your head sends a spasm up your spine.

You’re trusting your life to a man who doesn’t have enough brain cells to get dressed before he storms out into public. A maniac so sex crazed he follows his dick like the needle of a compass. Worse, you’re bringing a second life into this surreal layer of hell.

He pulls back the other buckle and twists the straps down your thigh. He reaches under you and jolts you as he tugs the other. His urgency overrides any caution he could possess. You yelp as you fall onto your back and he untangles the harness from your legs.

“Damn, shit,” he says as the dildo hits the floor, “did I make it worse?”

“You’re not making it better,” you growl.

“Fuuuuck,” he stomps away and you hear the closet roll open. 

You lay staring at the ceiling helplessly. You put your hand on your stomach and grit your teeth. You try to sit up, only to collapse again and whine. Fuck, fuck, fuck… your internal chant echoes Lloyd’s very vocal one.

He comes back to you as he pulls on a satin shirt with a snakeskin print. What the fuck is he wearing? What do you care? You’re still naked and paralysed with pain.

“What about me?” You ask as he buttons the shirt.

“Right, ugh… we’ll just sit you up,” he bends over you once more, hooking his arms under yours. You wrap yours around his neck and grunt through the agony as he makes you sit. 

“God, that fucking hurt,” you hiss.

“I can’t–” he releases you and raises his hand to smooth his hair, “a robe!”

He spins and races across the room. He grabs the dark silk robe he likes to wear like some idiot incel. The lotus flower and bamboo print makes you roll your eyes. 

“One more time,” he comes to you and leans in once more, “arms around my neck, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart?! Don’t be fucking sweet now, dumbass.”

“Hey, I’m doing my best with what I got?”

“Uh huh,” you growl as he sweeps the robe behind you and gets it up your arms. 

He places them around his neck again and stands with you. You scream and he flinches, letting out a pained groan as he tilts his head away.

“Dammit, my fucking ear–”

“I’ll bite it the fuck off,” you sneer.

He huffs and pulls the robe closed, as much as he can around your middle. What is he thinking? He ties the belt under your bump, the gap at the front more than certainly revealing too much.

“Alright, peaches, I got you,” he angles and gets an arm around you, bending to hook another behind your legs. He lifts you up with a strained grunt and you yowl again. Your eyes prick as you throw your head back.

“Wait!? Peaches?” He exclaims and you scowl at him through slitted eyes. “Are you going into labour?”

“No, you dunce, it’s my goddamn back!”

💎

“Slipped disk,” the same doctor as before displays the white on black image before you. Dr. Izhan, you recall. “Doesn’t exactly make things easier for a pregnant woman. Especially as far along as you.”

“Sure doesn’t feel good,” you utter as you grip the bed rails. 

The pain has dulled to a heavy pressure, no longer the sharp stabbing in your spine. They got you on meds but nothing strong enough to brighten your mood. The biggest pain however is the one standing bedside, chewing his thumb as he furrows his brow dramatically.

“I can imagine,” Dr. Izhan says, “I think we should start discussion options. For labour.”

“It’s a bit early,” you sniff, “isn’t it?”

“It is. But… given your age and your dangerously high pain tolerance, I think a c-section would be best. You can schedule one before you’re discharged.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. I read that–” Lloyd begins as he rests his hand on yours.

“Shh,” you hush him. All his reading and he still knows nothing.

“How long is she here for, doc?” He changes his course of action.

“We’ll say overnight for now. If the pain improves, becomes manageable, you can take her home. But,” the doctor points his pen at Lloyd, “don’t let her out of bed.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Lloyd smirks.

“Lloyd,” you slide your hand from beneath his and swat his knuckles.

“She’s right. Take it easy. She doesn’t need to be doing much of anything. At least not for a week or so.”

“I promise, doc, I’ll tie her down if I have too.”

You roll your eyes. He really is obnoxious. You drag your hand to your stomach and sigh.

“I will stay in bed. Don’t think I have much of a choice.”

“You don’t. You keep pushing yourself and it won’t get any easier. Even after the baby is here. This isn’t a new problem, you’ve neglected yourself long enough that if you keep doing that, it won’t be fixable.”

You hang your head and nod, “I know, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Take care of yourself,” the doctor girds.

“I will,” you look away and cup your cheek, “thanks.”

“Alright, I’ll make sure the nurse gives you another dose when you need it. For now, take it easy. Relax.”

He leaves as Lloyd hovers close to you. You sense his gaze on you. You flick your lashes up and take a deep breath. It’s the pain making you well up. It has to be.

“So,” Lloyd begins, “I always knew you were a delicate flower under all those thorns, peaches, but how long have you been like this?”

“What?” You snap and turn your head, wincing into a snarl.

“Well, I distinctly remember you keeling over in my tub not too long ago. And all those episodes since. I figured it was a new thing. A forty year old thing, but…”

“You’re older than me.”

“Oh, am I?”

“You are, aren’t you?” You wonder.

“Who the fuck knows, peaches. Come on. Doctor’s right. He’s a smart man. How long have you been running away from your troubles? And for once I’m not talking about me.”

You trail your hand down and scratch your chin. You look at the ceiling and slant your mouth. You try to remember when it started. It’s hard to think of a time when the pain was an issue.

“Maybe… I think… I was twenty-nine? I don’t know–”

“Shit, peaches, twelve years?”

“Something like that.”

“No, twelve years. I’m a math whiz–” He stops himself as your eyes drift over darkly, “I’d have to be, right,” he runs his fingers over his mustache, “because you don’t look old. Not that you are old, you know? You look nice and young.” He clears his throat as your frown deepens, “not that I want some young thing. You know, because you’re finely aged. Like wine.”

“I could use some wine,” you grumble, “thanks again, for that. You just have to take everything, don’t you? My dignity, my husband, my wine…”

“Hey, I give you lots of nice things. And I’m talking about more than good dick.”

“Please,” you flutter your fingers dismissively, “the doctor said I’m supposed to relax and you’re here making me lock up all over.”

“Well, I’m not going. Not this time. Ma said–”

“Oh, so you just don’t wanna piss off Dottie? I see.”

“No, that’s not what I–” he sputters, “look, peaches, I’ll let you relax, how about that? I’ll go grab some dinner and we can eat it and watch that reality show with the cat-faced girl.”

“Ugh, fine, I am hungry,” you resign, tempted more by the promise of a brief respite.

“I do know how to please a lady,” he kids, “right, so deep-fried pickles?”

“No,” you drone glumly, “they give me heartburn. But I can have the cauliflowers bites. Make sure you get the ones with mozzarella.”

“Califlower bites…” he repeats dutifully, “got it.”