#moths fics

[hotmothsummer]

Hi! i rewrote some bits of the episode with starscream and hashtag bc i love them oh so very much and i feel as though the ep didnt hit the tonal beats i wanted. Check it out if u wanted more hashtag and Starscream bonding or more exploration of Megatron’s abuse

[artificialmoth]

Idle Hands

Read here on ao3

Ratings & Tags: Explicit || No Archive Warning Copia/Dewdrop || Spanking, Light Dom/Sub, Crying(sexual), Hand Jobs, Aftercare, Sub Dew, Dom Copia " “Ghoul. Come with me.” Papa’s voice was stern, bordering on cold. The Ghoul stood up when pointed to, following Papa closely. When beckoned by Papa, no one was foolish enough to refuse, even a ghoul who skipped Mass.Another ghoul nearby snickered, and earned a sharp look from Papa. The man was clearly not in the mood to humor them, his back straight and shoulders squared. So clearly the figurehead of the Satanic church. "

finally finished it 🫠 literally everything was working against me on getting to post this at ALL

also per req: @copiasjuicebox psspspspsps

[stemmmm]

Don’t think about it. Don’t fall asleep. Don’t look. Not yet.

fanart for the latest chapter of Then It Becomes, It Becomes, It Becomes A Problem because holy shit

[monstersholygrail]

I am here to ask for more monster fucker scientist nerd, BUT

With a moth hybrid reader (like they lowkey are just mothman but a Luna moth) who can’t talk but is very smart and squeaks likes moths do sometimes

I’m sorry I just rarely see the ‘reader is monster’ kind of thing and I really like weird nerd for some reason

You write so good I love ittt

Ayyye, very cool idea!! And don’t apologize, you’re all good, babe. I like reader!monster and nerds too (and thank you oh my goodness!!)

The Scientist throws the newspaper onto the counter with a scowl on his face. ‘Government Scientist Breaks Out of Facility with Hybrid: Insider Conspiracy?’

The nerve of that guy. Letting his passion and lust warp his brain like that. To ruin an entire government study and all for what? Love. To have a mate. He would never make a mistake like that if he got the chance. Just once chance and they’d all see how brilliant he was!

Bugs were his field of study. Close to Hybrids. If only they had picked him instead he could’ve shown them the benefits and uses to what a bug can produce. His entire home lab is lit up with the evidence of it. Countless vials fill the rows of shelves along his walls. Each and every one of them glowing a lovely neon color.

Suddenly a banging at the glass door that leads to his patio shakes the scientist out of his dark thoughts. Turning around he watches as you, a Moth Hybrid, walks right into the door. Over and over again, your eyes glazed over as you look into the light.

Despite knowing what brought you here, the scientist remains just as curious about you. He gently guides you inside and helps you to focus on him instead of the vials. Next he tries to get you to speak, to explain yourself. He can’t figure out how annoyed to be at your interruption until you do. But when you open your mouth all you do is let out the tiniest little squeaks that grate against his eardrums.

He guesses you said something though as a second later you’re popping out of your seat and scurrying about. Your wings nearly knocking into everything around you in a way that has his heart jumping up into his throat. He watches you with rapt attention as you walk around his lab, mixing things together. He wants to stop you, to tell you you’re messing everything up, but he’s mesmerized by you. The way your green wings shine against the light of the vials.

Eventually you walk over and hand him something. It takes him far longer than he’s willing to admit to realize you had made a breakthrough in his recent hypothesis. He looks between you and the vial in awe, wondering exactly how long you had been watching him.

After such a discovery the scientist felt he couldn’t truly kick you out. You were now a team. And as the months passed in which you two worked together. It became more. He kisses you first thing when he walks into the lab, he asks you your thoughts even though all you can do is squeak in return, and he lets you take lead when you’re onto something he shockingly didn’t notice.

It’s as close to marital bliss as the scientist could ever imagine himself being. And it seems you feel that way too as one day, the both of you working furiously in the lab together, you bring him a vial dull and black. He doesn’t understand but he’s getting quite used to the feeling. You motion between the vial and your belly before touching his. Restoring the motion until it dawns on him.

You want to have babies with him. Correction— you want him to have babies with you. He’d be carrying them. He looks down at the vial, his expression full of contemplation. He would have to take it easy on his work, leaving most of it to you. He’d be growing multiple lives inside his body. He’d be giving up his chance to make a difference in order to do this with you.

He quickly takes the vial and downs it in a single gulp, exhaling shakily. He knows he made the right choice. Because he may be giving up the chance to make a difference but he’d be making a difference in his own life. In yours. And with your arrival he’s learned over time that that’s enough.

A heat slowly overcomes his body and he can feel something inside of him expanding. Making room for the eggs you’ll deposit inside him. The urge to slam you down on the lab counter and fuck you till you breed him seizes control of his actions till he does exactly as the urge demands.

You look so beautiful, glittering amongst the shining lights. Yet you’re the brightest thing he’s ever seen and he’s drawn to you. Always has.

[luverine]

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ Luan (Mothman) x fem! reader

How Luan got his name. // nsfw // MDNI // scratching // breeding // cockwarming // no proof read // word count: 0.8k

“You like the moon?” you ask softly, pointing towards the glowing orb that casts a pale light, making the cold night air shimmer.

The creature beside you lets out a soft chirp, a high-pitched sound that seems to tell agreement.

You hum, taking in his ethereal form- tall, dark, and lean with sleek fur. His eyes, wide and the deepest shade of ruby, reflect the moonlight. He’s gorgeous.

“You’re kind of like the moon, ya know,” you murmur, your gaze trailing over him. “Lunar, dark, quiet… breathtaking.”

A shuddering breath escapes your lips as he steps closer, the heat radiating from his body enveloping you despite the chill in the air. He lowers his head so that it's above yours, warmth seeping into your skin.

He traces his clawed fingers along the curve of your neck to your cheek, it tickles making you giggle. Turning to face him fully, you rise on tiptoe and nuzzle into the soft, downy fur of his neck.

“You always feel so nice. You’re always so… magnificent.” You let out a quiet laugh. “just like the-.”

A sudden thought brightens your eyes. “Luna! That should be your name.”

He tilts his head, a deep, rumbling whine vibrating through his chest. He glances between you and the moon, a silent request for something that feels sincere.

“Okay, okay,” you soothe, rubbing your thumb gently against his cheek. “Something more personal, more… you.”

——

The next morning, you immerse yourself in your small, beloved library, pouring over historical texts and old-time lore. Mythology and folklore have always been a passion of yours. Page after page, book after book, until you stumble upon the literature “Luan Zhi”- beautiful, virtuous wings… also referred to the moon.

“Perfect!” you exclaim, feeling a rush of excitement. This name would suit him perfectly. You can’t wait to share it with him!

——

That evening, you find him perched in his usual spot. Your fingers brush over his wings, marveling at the blend of black and white fuzz that feels softer than silk.

“I found a name for you,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. He’s already watching you, those dark ruby eyes gleaming with curiosity.

He lets out a soft, encouraging chirp, urging you to continue. You can see the anticipation flicker in his gaze.

“Luan,” you say with a smile. “Wings of the moon… my Luan.”

His eyes widen, sparkling like diamonds as he absorbs the meaning. In one fluid motion, he pulls you against him, his face pressing into the crook of your neck. His hold is tight, desperate, as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

A deep, resonant purr emanates from his chest as he breathes you in, his mind clouded with need. He’s intoxicated by the warmth of your scent, memories of being inside you flaring up with an almost painful intensity. His claws sink into your sides, drawing a soft yelp from your lips.

Luan pauses, concern flitting across his face as he checks if you’re unharmed. You nod, fingers threading through the thick fur at his nape. Your cheeks burn with arousal, a slick heat pooling between your thighs.

“Luan,” you gasp, your voice trembling with need. “I need you…”

His length, already hardening, presses insistently against you. Without hesitation, you peel away the fabric that separates your bodies, baring yourself to him. His fur spikes with arousal as he takes in the sight, his claws gently tracing over your wet folds, drawing out soft whimpers from your lips.

You’re grinding desperately against his touch, soaking his fingers with your slick. It’s too much for both of you; your desire has reached a high. With a trembling hand, you grasp his thick, curved shaft, guiding the pointed tip to your entrance. Slowly, you sink down onto him, the stretch of his girth drawing a moan from deep in your throat.

His claws dig into your hips, pulling you down onto his lap as he ruts up into you, the force making you gasp. Your chests are pressed flush together, your nails tangling in the plush fur at his neck. His thrusts are urgent, each one driving you higher, closer to the edge.

“I’m going to come- oh, gods, please, Luan, come inside me!” Your words are muffled against his fur as you clench around him, your climax crashing over you in a wave of bliss. He groans, a guttural sound, as he spills deep within you, his grip never wavering, holding you in place to fill you completely.

Breathless, you collapse against him, your head resting on his shoulder. “I love you, Luan,” you murmur softly, glazed eyes fluttering shut. His arms remain wrapped around you, keeping his softening length buried in you, possessive and gentle, as if he could keep you safe from the world forever.

And in this moment, in the quiet of the night beneath the watchful glow of the moon, you know he will never let you go.

A/N: Welp that’s Luan idk what else to do for him… anyways likes, reblogs, comments appreciated ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Extended Parting

Synopsis: After being separated from you for so long, Childe finally finds you again.

Foul Legacy x Reader Pronouns: Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Comfort Warnings: Mentions of blood, physical injuries, fear, pain, crying, allusions to being attacked

Original Request by Anon: requesting requesting! beep bop beep bop ! more foul legacy × reader hurt/comfort, perhaps? :3

hear me out- in the format of a scenario; just pure comfort, reader is perhaps sent of to a dangerous mission/commission while childe is away doing his own thing. when he is going back home however, he stumbles across a group of fatui, taking the reader hostage & hurting them. foul legacy's reaction to his "allies" hurting the love of his life? and how he would take care of the reader after, assuming the reader got pretty severe injuries (even though they're not fetal).

Im a big sucker for this big boi getting all soft when the reader is hurt, and i wanna see more of him just holding the bleeding reader in his arms while trying to comfort them

~ * ~

Two weeks, three days, seven hours, and eight minutes. That’s how long you’ve been apart, how long Childe has gone without being in your presence, and he’s hated every second of it. Important commission, hah! No commission could be so important that it took you away from him for this long- almost half a month! All of your other missions took you a week, tops, and even then he could barely handle it, missing you more and more as each day passed without a single word or letter. Of course, he admits, it’s not like Childe didn’t also have his own duties to attend to during this time, this extended parting. As usual, he was forced to store Ajax and Childe away, slipping on the mask of Tartaglia, the Eleventh Harbinger, and taking delight in violent diplomacy. But even fighting and bloodshed did little to satiate his longing for you; how much he wished to see your wonderful smile and that keen twinkle in your eyes, hear your lovely voice, cradle you in his arms and kiss your cheeks- Childe groans, burying his face in his hands. It makes him irritable, constantly yearning for you, and Foul Legacy is even worse. His Abyssal half is constantly clawing at the back of his mind, worrying his talons and whining as he asks why they haven’t seen you yet? Where are you? When will you be back? He wants cuddles something fierce, desperately seeking out the attention and affection you always give him only to find that you’re nowhere near. They’re both so lonely without you, only each other for company, and Childe has to physically bite his hand to prevent Legacy from simply snatching control of their body away and flying off to find you. With a sigh, the Harbinger wipes the blood from his blades, then his hands, and finally his face, ginger hair all wild and unruly. At the very least, today was when he would finally return home to Liyue. He never thought somewhere other than Morepesok could be considered home, but it turns out that “home” is wherever his heart is, and he gave it to you long ago to keep safe from everything that hurts.

Home… Childe’s mind drifts back to the house you both share, a small smile instinctively tugging at his lips. With a quiet snap of his fingers and a salute, his underlings are dismissed- they’ll be going back to the Fatui Headquarters in Snezhnaya. Childe, however, packs his supplies near the road back to the harbor city, waving the agents away, and the moment they’re out of sight his smile widens into a full-on grin, a delighted gleam in his azure eyes. 

Even just thinking about you seems to bring out the best in him, Foul Legacy chirping happily in the back of his head when Childe reassures him that yes, they’ll be seeing you again soon. If you’re done with that horribly long commission of yours, that is, which he’s sure that you are- even the most arduous never take up to three weeks. Despite being exhausted, he finds a spring in his step, dust swirling as his boots land against the dirt path. You, you, you- he’s going to see you again, his beloved and most treasured. Childe almost glows with energetic joy as he jogs, as if he never fell into the Abyss at all. His hand twitches, Foul Legacy begging and pleading to be let out after spending so long locked away, but Childe hushes him gently. You’ve said that you like it when he’s kind to Legacy and Legacy is kind to him- they are part of each other, after all, and you love both of them- so he tries to treat the monster as a friend rather than a weapon, and with a huff Legacy settles back down. Something faint and distant as the moon pierces the night, and Childe pauses, ears pricking. He tilts his head to listen, and for a moment he hears nothing but silence. Until- there, there! A scream! It’s far off, over the next hill, but unmistakably there. Even from a distance Childe can hear the desperation, the terror burning into his bones like a raging fire with a familiarity that makes him stop in his tracks.

No… no, it couldn’t be. It can’t be- Please, please let him be wrong- Childe’s feet carry him towards the sound, dread spiraling and twisting in his gut as another awful shriek rings out and he looks up, eyes widening. He was right. Oh, he was right, and he wishes he wasn’t, because it’s you. It’s you, gripping your weapon like a vice and covered in blood, expression filled with panic and fear and pain. It’s you, still in your adventurer’s gear, bag packed with whatever stupid, insignificant item the commission wanted. It’s you, surrounded by Fatui agents- not his, thank the Archons- the rest of them laughing and sneering. It’s you, hurt and scared and looking as if you’re about to collapse onto the ground and never rise. It’s you, and Childe’s veins freeze over with cold, splintering ice. You’re pressed against a ruined wall, swiping the blade in your hands at the soldiers, who merely snicker at your weakened attempts. The leader- one of those Electro vanguards with a giant hammer- smacks the weapon aside and seizes your arm, and you let out an involuntary yelp of pain as tears prick in your eyes. The yelp is all the motivation he needs, and Childe barely feels his restraint shatter like glass. They never even saw it coming, Foul Legacy throwing his spear and ripping the agents apart as fast as lightning, vibrant purple sparks searing the grass as he roars, driven only by wrath and fury. The vanguard who grabbed you so violently shouts in surprise and horror- then everything goes silent, apart from Legacy’s heavy breathing, claws dripping with blood. He exhales, curling his talons into fist with a tight crackling noise, letting out a low, guttural growl of rage. You bite down fiercely on your tongue, trying to stay quiet, but you can’t help but gasp in pain as the slashes in your body flare, and Foul Legacy’s anger burns away as quickly as a dying candle. He turns and rushes to you, chittering frantically, only to freeze when he sees you stiffen, petrified with fright. His chirps and trills lower to soft croons, gentle and sweet and familiar, crouching slowly to your height and holding out a hand. He tentatively inches forward, hand extended and palm up, claws curling delicately around your wrist when you desperately reach for him. “A-Ajax…?” Legacy’s Abyssal heart cracks, and he swiftly gathers you in his arms, whimpering and nudging his forehead against your cheeks as you cling to him and let out anguished, hitching cries. You suck in a breath when his talons ghost over a wound, and Legacy almost sobs with despair. Some part of him- the rational, trained soldier that is Childe- tells him to get you home, heal you, make sure that you’re well- he carefully gets to his feet, holding you close to his armored chest and adjusting your head so it’s pillowed by his lavender fluff. You shudder with pain again, and Legacy gently licks his tongue over the shallow scrapes on your face, cooing softly; with a flutter of his glimmering wings he takes to the sky, his arms cradling you like you’re made of crystal and gold.

He lands near your shared home not ten minutes later, hastily unlocking the door with the key he always sees Childe using. The house is quiet and a little dusty from being empty for so long, but your bed is as soft as ever as Legacy delicately lowers you down onto the mattress. Childe is the one who tells him what to do, again, guiding his claws to gently wrap your wounds with snow white gauze. None of them are fatal, and Legacy thanks his constellation with a grumbling sigh of relief. A quiet croon slips out when he sees you fading in and out of consciousness, sweetly cupping your cheek with a clawed hand- he’s shaking. Why is he shaking? He’s not the one who nearly died- but your hand comes up to weakly grasp his, and Legacy’s heart melts and breaks and patches itself up all over again.

Your lips twitch into a shaky smile, exhausted, your fingers resting on Legacy’s and soothing the minute trembles running through his body. The Abyssal creature- your wonderful, sweet Abyssal creature- blinks slowly at you, crystalline eye filled with tears that drip down his crimson face and pool in the divots of his mask as he fights to contain the sobs that threaten to break out, and when you reach up your other hand, covered in bandages, to caress his cheek, his breath hitches and he collapses into your arms, burying his head against your neck and weeping. In a whispered voice you coo and murmur and hum to him, repeated words of “it’s okay, I’m here, I’m okay”, and he tries so, so hard to do it back to you, his own sounds cracked and stuttering, something along the lines of “don’t leave, I miss you, I’m sorry”, or as close as he can say with a mouth made for biting and gnashing. Your hands lightly tug him closer- or rather, your hands tiredly loosen and he moves to follow them- until he’s close enough for you to press a soft kiss to his forehead. Legacy immediately purrs, tearful and whimpering, and your silent offer of lifting up the blanket is met with an instance moth monster at your side, curling around your body and holding you close. He’s careful not to squeeze you, trying to get as close as possible and mold his form around yours as you rake your hands through his fluffy coppery hair, drawing more deep, comforting rumbles from within his chest, the type he makes when you’re dreadfully ill.

Cats’ purrs are healing, so you’ve heard. Perhaps Abyssal beasts’ purrs are much the same. Slowly, your eyes begin to droop, and you yawn, exhausted and worn. Foul Legacy quietly nudges you, a croon of reassurance falling from his fanged maw, claws dancing over the wraps on your skin now stained brilliant red. It hurts, it hurts like fire- but you’re safe. Safe in your bed, and in Legacy’s arms, and the tension leeches from you and dissipates into nothing. You vaguely hear a soft melody, low and rumbling and familiar from when you’ve sung Foul Legacy to sleep, and the arms around you tighten ever so slightly as the sun finally dips beneath the horizon into the locked box of night. Two weeks, three days, eight hours, and thirty minutes. That’s how long Foul Legacy refused to let you out of his sight, even after your injuries had closed and healed.

[help-i-lost-my-sock]

PDA Headcanons - Ace

Word count: 655

Suggestive (N/SFW)

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

Ace’s initials are not “PDA” for nothing. He’s not ashamed of showing the world how just hopelessly in love the two of you are.

He loves to touch you - whether it’s holding hands, a hug, a hand on your waist, caressing your hair, a sweet kiss on the top of your head, or a passionate kiss on your lips, he loves to feel you near.

He will often have an arm around your waist or shoulders, or a warm hand resting on the small of your back. His ego will swell to the heavens and beyond if you grab onto his arm while strolling around on some island - it makes him feel loved, wanted, and needed.

When holding hands, he’ll often give it a random squeeze to make you look at him for no reason in particular, other than just wanting to see your smile.

Ace loves to feel your fingers trailing through his hair, especially when he lays down for a nap. A sunny day and a nap on Moby Dick’s deck would be incomplete without his head resting in your lap, and your fingers slowly combing through his dark, shaggy mane. Ace hasn’t known much mildness in his life, not even as a child, and especially not now that he is all grown up and an infamous hot shot. This is why your gentleness towards him makes you and your moments together that much more extraordinary.

Ace loves to show you off. He’s damn proud of himself for scoring someone like you. Anyone with eyes can see how hot you are, but to Ace, what’s inside is worth so much more. Not only are you a treat to look at, but you’re also one of the kindest people he’s ever met. And as the object of your affections, Ace is thoroughly convinced he must be the luckiest guy on Earth.

He often lets you wear his hat, especially when he’s not around. You love carrying a little piece of him with you when the real deal is unavailable, and he loves seeing you wear his things, cus that’s what couples do, right? He doesn’t really have a shirt for you to steal, so then his hat it is. He thinks it’s both cute and funny how you keep insisting on wearing it, despite it clearly being too big for you.

His kisses are passionate. Just like his devil fruit, just like his temper, and his taste in food, Ace brings hotness all around. He’ll capture your lips and kiss you with reckless abandon. And if someone’s watching? Then who gives a fuck? Let them see how much you love each other. You’ll usually be the one to break the kiss - the intensity of which makes you feel a bit awkward in public. Ace will just laugh it off.

When you guys are alone, and he can really let loose, no one can match his passion. His kisses are hot, messy, and sloppy. His tongue will invade your mouth at the slightest chance. It’s not uncommon for him to bite your lip or pinch you so he can slip his tongue into your mouth the moment you gasp.

Ace’s lips are not the only ones to express his passion. His hands will be all over you if given the chance - rubbing, stroking, squeezing, kneading, and pinching.

Ace does not shy away from biting or nipping - whether it’s your lips, earlobes, neck, shoulders, or nipples.

In the same trend, he loves to leave love-bites on your skin - a reminder of your fun times, and a heads-up to any other interested parties that you’re his, and his alone. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he gets a bit of a kick from marking you, especially when others notice and joke about it.

Conversely, however, he’s not big on getting hickeys himself but will proudly show off the red marks your nails dug in his back. 

[mrstellmeafuckingsecret]

age gap coffee shop modern muggle au prongsfoot with james being this mid-to-late thirties single dad who comes to this coffee shop before work and his regular server is this nineteen-ish year old and they start talking and james is constantly in awe of sirius because he's a double major & he models & is on a scholarship & his entire fucking backstory & his everything is insane enough to have seven books and eight films and a tv show and sirius is constantly in awe of james because he's a good dad

[moth-time]

It's BOOK TIME again! It has been forever since I last bound a book wow.

This is Interim by @punishandenslavesuckers, which is a fantastic botw post-canon Link/Zelda/Ganon fic that you all should go read if you haven't already. It's great, go check it out. I stayed up way too late reading it.

The binding is a sewn-board binding, which means the cover stiffeners are sewn directly into the text block, instead of wrapped around and glued to the endpapers. This makes for a very tidy and modern looking binding, AND because the boards are doubled (sewn in like the endpapers) allows for fun shenanigans like that indented triforce.

I'm SO proud of how the triforce came out! I was really careful with all of my measurements and it really paid off.

Oh yeah and I finally found a place with a good guillotine, so now I can make SMALLER books and still have nice crisp edges. Look at it, it's such a cute size. Perfect for holding.

Next step… painted fore-edges, maybe owo

[hotmothsummer]

Okay i caved and it’s out now actually

[lixel-5]

creating a collection. i call it possible stanarrator.

homosexuality

[ckret2]

I had just finished the first chapter of the Axolotl arc in WAIGLZ and reading the second.

Is he technically being a ghost ever going to come up past this arc to the other chapters in WAIGLZ later on?

Like,

"It was not like y o u were the one who viciously murdered me! I am mean technically your gruncles did not even kill a "living" being in the first place, according to s o m e people,

Bill shook his head, fanning away trillion year old resentment

-"you really think it was my first roadio? P l e a s e . So, try not beat yourself up about it kid, ok?"

Mabel looked up and stared at Bill.

"Wha- Huh??" Mabel said dumbfounded.

It would be crazy coolio to see it mentioned in the main fic.

Until I read your fic I never even thought about Bill being a spirit once, and now I feel rather silly wondering how he lived so long outside of his dimension :,)

Please have a truly wonderful day + happy holidays! ^ ^

Toodaloo!

I'm sure eventually it'll be mentioned again (I mean, for one thing, eventually we're gonna see the massacre) but probably not like that.

Like, Bill technically-being-a-ghost isn't some big secret or a major plot twist, and it doesn't fundamentally rewrite the rules around him and what he does. It's just what we see him do throughout canon.

He's a non-physical entity ("a being of pure energy!") that's apparently self-sustaining without needing sleep or food and impervious to injury and illness ("with no weakness!")

He's usually invisible to normal (living) people. He can possess people. He can move inanimate objects even though he can't physically interact with them. He can haunt dreams.

When he has the opportunity to make himself a body, he doesn't turn into something physical; his physical form is separate from him, and he can freely separate from it any time he wants.

This is mind-body dualism. Generally, mind-body dualism is a framework people use to express the idea that the spirit/soul is a separate entity from the body. The thing that's killed in Stan's mind is the spirit; the statue left behind is the body.

Meaning, before he had that body, he was spirit.

When he separates Dipper's spirit from his body in the exact same way Bill separates from his own body, he says, "Without a vessel to possess, you're basically a ghost!"

Bill usually doesn't have a vessel to possess.

Ergo: Bill's basically a ghost and he said so himself.

I haven't listed anything we didn't learn from Sock Opera and Weirdmageddon.

The ONLY question is "well BEFORE he was an energy being, did he have a physical body?" Whether he was born an energy being or became one later is in the realm of headcanon; and I suppose it's a matter of opinion if an energy being counts as a ghost if it's 100% identical to ghosts in every way except that it didn't previously have a physical body. You could argue that his eagerness to get a physical body the second he could implies he used to have one or was meant to have one, but that's speculation.

In every other way, he meets the criteria for a ghost the same way that tomatoes meet the criteria for berries. But when someone tells you "tomatoes are berries," it doesn't teach you anything new about tomatoes. You already knew tomatoes have berry-like traits, you just assumed they were disqualified because they're too big or too unsweet or too vegetably, and now you know they aren't disqualified.

So like—putting that word on him doesn't change anything about Bill. You've learned nothing new. The characters around him would learn nothing new. It's not a plot twist or massive character revelation; it's just a background fact that gets mentioned when it's relevant.

[smileymoth]

am i funny yet

[luverine]

Mothman (Luan) x Reader

It’s getting cold, and you’re warm. // mdni // sfw

Luan is needy.

The chill in the air seeps through his soft fur, sending shivers that never seem to end. All day long, he’s cold, trembling, and there’s only one thing that can make it better, you.

You’re so warm, Luan wishes nothing more than to have your arms wrapped around him at all times, the softness of your skin and the comfort of your embrace.

He walks closer to you letting out a light grunt, staring at you with his wide pleading eyes.

Smiling, you open your arms already knowing what he wants.

“You poor thing, it’s so cold out, isn’t it?” You tease ruffling his fuzz, gently caress his face, giving him a quick tender smooch on his temple.

He huffs into your neck, listening to your steady heartbeat, the rush of your warm blood flow, Just being near you, listening to you exist, feeling your presence, makes everything else, even the cold fade away.

₊✩‧₊˚ ཐིཋྀ ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊˚ ཐིཋྀ ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊˚ ཐིཋྀ ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊

A/N: Recovering from writers block :l

[void-luna]

psst- have moshang moths

[help-i-lost-my-sock]

Dining at the Y (Sanji x Reader)

Summary: The title says it all really. Just a microfic on Sanji eating Reader out. NSFW.

Word count: 333 (Ain't this just perfect for Sanji?)

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

You’re not quite sure how you ended up in this situation, but you’re not about to complain. Not while you’re here, laying on your back, with your legs over the love-cook’s shoulders. 

Sanji's head dips between your thighs. His soft, warm lips trace over your thighs - his pace maddeningly slow, his touch dizzyingly sensual, as he makes his way yet further down, inching closer to your core. His soft, warm lips place soft kisses over your folds, feeding the fires of desire within you. His tongue slowly drags his tongue over your slit, and flicks over your clit before finally diving in fully. 

Your dripping slick coats his chin as he moves up and down your slit, his stubble lightly tickling your skin. His tongue slips into you, tasting you eagerly as he hums in satisfaction - hums which you can feel against your sensitive bud, hums which send a shiver down your spine. 

His hands grasp your hips, holding on to them firmly in place, yet, with a characteristic gentleness. Your hands find their way to his head, tangling your fingers into his soft golden locks. His skilled mouth makes short work of you, having you moaning and gasping his name before you even know it. 

The way he looks up at you with those gorgeous blue eyes - eyes in which lust and love swirl as one - as he torments you so deliciously - kissing, licking, and sucking like he’d never get another chance to taste you… Oh, it has all your sense and reason flying right out the window, and you just can't help but grind your needy cunt against his lips, begging for more. Sanji happily obliges, slipping two long, graceful fingers into your aching hole, while his lips latch on to your sensitive clit. Your head is spinning; back arching. His name falls from your lips in a lustful moan, as his fingers continue to curl up against your sweet spot. 

Needless to say, the kitchen is closed for the night.