#powerful men wearing skulls

[13ag21k]

I DON'T HAVE A THING FOR SKULLS I DON'T HAVE A THING FOR SKULLS I DON'T HA--

[foone]

Evil undead being with a mansion full of servants, most of which didn't want to be there. But he's got some kind of power over death and has bound them there, so they can't leave his employ even if they die. They'd just come back.

Naturally this has resulted in an environment where the chores get done, but the servants keep murdering each other. And then doing it again the next day. He's fine with it so long as they clean up the mess.

And he's still not sure if the maids really, really hate each other or if this is some kind of sex thing. They seem to be having a lot of fun, even if they them have to do more work to get the blood out of the carpets.

One day they ask him to perform their wedding. They want to both wear white so it'll show the blood better. Instead of rings, they're giving each other knives. And his last line in officiating their wedding is "you may now kill the bride". (he set it up so that instead of the usual place, they'll resurrect in the honeymoon suite at the local village's best inn.

He's a little unsettled by this. I mean, he may be a necromancer who is more familiar with death than most, but they're taking it a little far. He considers death a business partner, they're jumping into death's arms, and only braking the French kiss to ask for a threesome.

He's decimated nations, raized villages, and torn life from the body of men, women, and children alike... But those maids are doing something they manages to disturb even him. They're just having too much fun with it. Death isn't supposed to be fun, damn it! He's a cackling skull on a vampiric body whose every touch brings the cold silence of the grave, and even he doesn't have THAT much fun with death!

He sips his coffee and shakes his head. The living!

[jewish-sideblog]

I think people forget that the Nazis never said they were the bad guys. If someone says, hey, I’m evil! You don’t let them take over your country. They presented themselves as scientific, not hateful. By their own account, they were progressives, and the superiority of White Europe over the other races was a proven and immutable fact. They had scientists and archaeologists and historians to prove it. They didn’t tell people they wanted to kill the Jews because they were hateful. They manufactured evidence to frame us for very real tragedies, and they had methodological research to prove that we were genetically predisposed to misconduct. Wouldn’t you believe that?

Hollywood has spent the last 80 years portraying the Nazis as an obvious and intimidating evil. That’s a good thing in some ways, because we want general audiences to recognize that they were evil. But we also want them to be able to recognize how and why they came to power. Not by self-describing themselves as an evil empire, but by convincing people that they were the good guys and the saviors. They hosted the Olympics. Several European countries capitulated and volunteered themselves to the Empire. There were American and British Fascist Parties. They had broad public support. Hollywood never shows that part, so general audiences never learn to recognize the actual signs of antisemitism.

People today think they can’t possibly be antisemitic, because they’re leftist! They abhor bigotry! They could never comprehend Nazi ideology coming from the mouth of a bisexual college student wearing a graphic tee and jeans. How could they? The only depiction of antisemites they’ve ever seen have been gaunt, pale, middle-aged men in black leather trench coats with skulls on their caps.

If the Nazis time-travelled from the 1930s and wanted to take power now, they’d change their original tactics, but not by much. They would target countries suffering from an identity crisis and an economic collapse. They would portray themselves as the pinnacle of what that society considers progressive. Back then, it was race science. These days it’s performative wokeness. Once they’d garnered enough respect and reputation, they’d begin manufacturing propaganda and lies to manipulate people’s anger and fears at a single target— Jews.

If the Nazis made an actual return, they wouldn’t look like neo-Nazis. They wouldn’t be nearly as obvious about their hatred. Their evil wouldn’t give them yellow eyes, and no suspenseful music would play when they walked in the room. They’d be friendly. They’d look like you. They would learn what things your community fears and what things you already hate. They would lie and fabricate evidence to connect the rich elites and the imperialists you revile to a single source of unequivocal Jewish evil. It wouldn’t be hard— they already have two-thousand years of institutional antisemitism they can rely on to paint their picture.

If you’re curious why antisemitism today is coming from grassroots organizations, young, liberal college campuses, suburban neighborhoods with pride flags and All Are Welcome Here signs? That’s why. It’s because, as a global society, we’ve forgotten that the world didn’t used to see the Nazis as bad guys. And what is forgotten about history is doomed to be repeated.

[diejager]

More Wolfie plz🥺? Idk what you’d right but I love the universe you built up with it and would love more of it, even if it’s just a sliver

Training Cw: smut, training, collar, ring gag, doggy style, creampie, unprotected sex, PinV, fingering, tell me if I missed any.

“What did I tell you about growling, pup?” He sounded so demeaning, his hand laid heavy on your nape, holding your face down and away from the two men in the room with you.

Ghost had pulled you to Price’s office under the guise of this being training, wanting to work through your aggression you’d thrived on while living in the wild. You were jerky and a biter, baring your teeth after a low growl, threatening to sink into someone’s hand or arm as retaliation. They were getting a lot of complaints from people who would approach you and attempt to pet your ears and tail, wanting to touch the softness of your washed fur and disregarding your personal space and boundaries.

“None of that,” his grip tightened around your neck when your throat rumbled, a growl slipping through your gagged mouth, drool rolling down your cheek.

They gave you a pretty, black ring gag, placed behind your teeth to keep your mouth open from biting them and showing off your sweet and fiery mouth. The black leather looped behind your head, a thin strap connecting it to your collar, a smooth, black leather that sat comfortably around your neck without irritating it, but thin enough for you to feel everything. They had you wear it as a sign of possession, the silver insignia of their Task Force hanging from the front, a skull and winged sword proudly gleaming under the light wherever you go.

You mellowed down, growls quieting to loud pants, exhausted from your skirmish with Ghost, doing your best ignore your Captain’s rough handling, his calloused fingers kneading the flesh of your hips and stomach, his hands smoothing over the arch of your back to your tail. Your fur was matted and wet, dirtied with slick that - prior to being forced into this position - pooled down your rim and wetting your soft fur. You’d long given up in fighting Price, he was much stronger than you and smelled of power and strength —like alpha. He was the leader of your little pack, a fiercely protective leader who had every intent of putting his group first, but it was his scent that made you stop. He smelled of strong musk, a heady scent of cigar and cedar, less smoky and sweet than your Lieutenant’s sandalwood that kept flooding your sensitive nose.

“Good pup, you’re doing so well,” Price cooed, running his fingers through your hair, scratching the reactive nerve behind your ears. It made you whine, a high sound that had both of them shush you, “That’s it, you’re all right, pup.”

Your panting grew louder, mewls slipping out as a final sign of submission, letting them bend your body to their pleasure. You arched your back, bucking against the bearded man that was ploughing into you, driving his hard cock into your wet cunt, slick squelching out of you with every snap of his hips, his balls slapping your twitching clit. You couldn’t deny how good it felt to give up all autonomy after having taken care of yourself on your own for years, letting another care for you and manhandle you in the best way. His veined girth laid heavy in your cunt, your gummy walls wrapped round him in a tight hold, just a hair away from coming.

Canting his hips and leaning forward, your world exploded in bright lights when Price’s head tapped your cervix, punching the air out of your body with every thrust. He was guiding you through your orgasm just as he had his, his cock throbbing and veins pulsing before the tip spurted ropes of cum, painting your walls white with his tangy lad, hot and thick. Price groaned lowly, palms holding your hips flushed to his, giving a few jerky thrusts before he hilted inside of you, unmoving but grounding you with the smooth touch of his thumb and Ghost’s grip on your scruff.

When he pulled out, his cum oozed out of you, dripping down your mound and landing on the old couch in his office. He admired the gift with a slight twitch of his cock, it leaked out of you like an unending fall. Wasteful, truly. His fingers slid down your thighs, gathering his cum and pushed it back in, fingering his load with a few wet sounds.

“Stay good for Ghost, pup. Can you do that?”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake

[eyelambspider]

𝐃𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫, 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧! — 𝐂𝐎𝐃/𝐎𝐮𝐭𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫

Day 18 can you believe it? Here is a list of my prompts & event terms!

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : gn!doctor!reader x doctor!gaz, security!price + horangi, psychotic!soap + könig + ghost 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : you and a group of mount massive personnel have holed up in the security room as chaos erupts around the building. Then, your beloved patients find you, they decide its better that they keep you 'safe' instead. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1.3 k 𝐚/𝐧 : i based this on my fking favorite game series outlast so-! 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : blood/gore/death, swearing, yandere/possessive traits

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐃. The sirens had blared for over an hour, each smashed to pieces by howling patients or they had simply died out...

No one was coming. No one should have been coming.

You and Doctor Garrick stared in pale horror at the panel of security cameras.

Every screen was filled with scenes straight out of a horror movie. In the halls, doctors in white coats tripped over themselves fleeing in terror as patients roared in fear, smashing in the skulls of the people who had hurt them. The common rooms were filled with more docile patients, the television screen tuned to nothing but static. A few patients wheezed in pain, bandages covering their disfigured faces, while others cried quietly into themselves, simply staring off into the static. All sitting together motionlessly, seemingly immune to the horrors now ravaging Mount Massive Asylum.

The sight was enough to make you heave and turn away. Dr. Garrick quickly caught you, rubbing your back in a soothing manner as Price and Horangi stepped up to the monitors. "Fucking hell," the brit muttered, his blue eyes roving over the screens with a grimace.

With the two officers busy, you turned your head towards Gaz, eyes wide with terror, trying so hard not to tremble under his touch. "They won't send anyone! Gaz!" you whispered frantically, trying not to draw the attention of the two security guards who had pulled you two into the safety of the locked security room.

No one knew except the doctors.

The Murkoff Corporation, the company that employed everyone here had been conducting unethical experiments on the patients here... They would never allow a leak this substantial to ever get out to the public.

You and Gaz both knew it too. They wouldn't send anyone but an army of men to 'clean' up this mess.

Another wave of nausea hit you at the thought.

"Shhh, I know, I know," he muttered, glancing over his shoulder towards the two security officers, making sure they didn't overhear.

Both were equipped to handle patients, guns in their belts, the same blue shirt, black pants, badge and hat...

What would they do when they found out the truth? Would they throw the two of you out if they found out you both had no power over what happened next? Had no idea what to fucking do in this situation?

All you and Gaz knew, was that wearing a white doctors coat right now, was a death sentence.

As far as irrational thought went, it felt like the only person you could truly trust right now was the man rubbing your back.

"So what's the plan?" Price interrupted, making both you and Gaz nearly jump.

From the horrified looks on both your faces, the security officer's both got an inkling of the reality of the situation.

"We... We-we could," Gaz stumbled, trying to blurt out anything that came to mind before Price got up in his face, angry like the you had both suspected.

"You know what's happening outside those doors?!" Price's voice boomed, grabbing ahold of Gaz's collar to bring him up to his face. Although you tried to stop it, Price was strong, and forced Gaz's face to the monitors. "Those fucking lunatics will kill all of us if we don't get the fuck out of here-!"

"Wait!" You yelped, trying to calm the already deteriorating situation. "We have clearance to all floors! There's got to be a way out!" You reasoned, digging through your coat pocket to retrieve your keycard and hold it up for him to see.

Everyone seemed to stop for a moment, the tension buzzing like electricity before Horangi placed a firm hand on Price's shoulder, silently urging him to drop the doctor. "The front doors down the hall are locked," he started, the black face mask he always wore muffling his voice some.

Price finally let go of Gaz, and you protectively helped him straighten out, a nervous look on both of your faces.

"Before we got the two of you in here, there was a man in the halls," Horangi recalled eerily, taking his hand off Price to hold the straps of his belt instead. "Big fucking guy, had no nose," he muttered, "We can't go through the front doors with him there."

The front doors were on this floor, only a few halls away... but who knows what had happened in the past hour to stop the exit from being so... clear.

"That's Chris," you whispered, immediately recognizing the description of the man Price and Horangi had seen.

Chris Walker, a violent man, standing at six foot nine... He wasn't your patient, but he was infamous among the doctors here... And now, he was standing between you and potentially getting out of this hellhole.

What the hell were you all going to do?

You took a minute to think, covering your mouth in shock while the three men stood quietly, each considering that look on your face.

It looked like a plan was forming in that sharp mind of yours, and none wanted to interrupt it. Holding their breaths for what they hoped was a miracle.

"Keys," you muttered to yourself, blankly staring at the screens in front of your face whilst you held subconsciously onto Gaz's shoulder.

"They took the keys," Price tried to explain, remembering the crushed body of the guard who was supposed to have them.

"No, they always have spares," you nodded to yourself, the flimsy idea stitching itself together more coherently in your mind.

As you spiraled further into thought, more screams and violence took place outside on the screens. Each eye watching as crude traps went up, bookshelves fell over in the halls, windows broke as men pounded their bloodied hands against it...

"They always have spare keys in the subbasement," you huffed breathlessly, feeling your blood run cold at the idea.

That's where Walrider had broken out. Where this whole asylum riot had started, and now the four of you, or at least one of you had to go down there with the very keycard you held tightly in your hand.

Gaz whispered your name almost inaudibly, hand slowly slithering around your waist and pulling you behind him.

Slowly, you followed his eyes and felt cold horror run through your veins.

"Hey Doc."

"Maus."

"It's you."

There, at the bulletproof window of the security office, stood three of your patients, each doused in blood splatters and maniac grins.

John "Soap" MacTavish. His blue eyes wide with madness glared at you, standing so close to the window that his breath fogged up the glass. "Doc, I could really use your help out here..." he grinned, tapping on the window before he quickly got more infuriated by the barrier. "Open up this fucking door you bitch!" he roared, smashing his fists onto the window until a bloodied puddle had formed... and he wouldn't fucking stop.

König stood behind him, his usual black hood, the one he always felt more safe under was dripping with gore onto his bare chest. The giant of a man tilted his head acutely, his icy blue eyes flickering from your face with a softness, before they turned hard and cold when he realized there were others in the room with you. The tension apparent in the way his fists suddenly balled up into a white knuckle grip.

And Mr. Simon "Ghost" Riley stood closest to the edge of the window, watching curiously as Soap spit a mix of soft pleas for you to come out, to vulgar swears and threats if you didn't. An idea was forming in his head. Those dark orbs of his now considering the door that separated you from him. He would find a way in, or through.

To their deranged minds, their beloved doctor needed their help.

And the men in the room with you needed you alive to get out of this damned asylum.

p.s. is cross over the right word for this? what'd you think of this guys? lmk! because i honestly loved writing this!

[hazelfoureyes]

The Safeword is RadioApple (part 4 - Alastor’s win?)

Read the first part here for intro and warnings and then decide:

Did Lucifer win rock paper scissors? Cum here

Did Alastor win rock paper scissors? Keep reading

Alastor’s eyes sank down to you, looking past his nose as Luci began to kiss at his jawline. “Our wise king”, he smirked, “had an idea. Would you be interested in hearing us out?”

Us? You nodded, almost knocking a headache right back into your skull.

“Luci”, did he just call him Luci?, “thinks we should show you our teamwork skills. But you seem quite tired today… so perhaps, our little duckie could be the one connecting us, instead of you, darling?”

Your brain couldn’t process anything happening. Not sounds or sights let alone grammar and implications and tone of voice. The word ‘duckie’ disintegrated neurons. Luci stopped his slow and wet kisses down Alastor’s neck to flash the most sinful look your way, “What do you say, kitten?” He had never looked so much like the devil before. There was a power you couldn’t put your finger on, something pouring from his body into the air around you he had never brought into the bedroom. You remembered the power that the video of him defending the hotel had held and how it brought you here in the first place.

Quick, someone tell Charlie. You’d managed to make it to heaven without even leaving hell.

The shock continued as the men took to task undressing you, then each other. Alastor never got fully nude around Lucifer unless it was in the bath or shower, but he let Lucifer strip him bare.

Lucifer lied on top of you, his knees pushing your legs open as his mouth came to yours. His still soft cock gently pressing into your crotch, his smile making your teeth bump into each other with every reconnection. Stopping, he looked behind and then back to you. You watched him shake his ass a little as he lifted it up into the air. A second later his eyes closed and he moaned above you. You could see between your bodies to where Alastor was, dark and unusually shiny tentacles pushing up against Luci’s ass. 

Your breath got trapped in your throat, making it difficult to reply when Alastor’s disembodied voice asked you, “Would you like to be stretched, darling? To take Luci?” 

Lucifer looked down at your face, red and staring at the scene behind him, “Looks like a yes.” You nodded.

Slippery with lube, you felt something slide into you with ease, tapered and gentle. Conveniently, Alastor was able to shift the width of his summoned tentacles at will, waiting to hear Luci’s sounds dip into more pleasure than just adjustment, he let his tendrils grow in him. 

He could hear Lucifer’s moans get muffled as Luci resumed kissing you, tongue roaming into your mouth to taste you. Alastor felt compelled to bring his hand to his own growing erection, watching his extensions push into you both. His little pair of does, waiting eagerly for him. He found himself confused by what the sight was doing to him. Like collecting souls but a different part of his brain was lighting up. Quite the different collection. Two people, one a keen and kind woman unneeding in anyone’s company but deserving everyone’s affection; the other the unparalleled King of Hell, former favorite of God. One too good for his bloodied hands. One too regal to kneel to him.

Yet both lying soft before him and moaning around his extensions. 

The room was spinning now for Alastor. Cock weeping as he lazily touched himself.

The thought came to him to just ignore Luci’s part in this and fuck you both in whatever way he could, but in the growing haze of his power high he managed to remember the point of this. Teamwork. He could dominate you both, reminding you who was the one “wearing the pants” (when behind closed doors) another day. 

You felt Lucifer’s cock stiffening against your thigh, bringing a whimper out of you. 

“Enough,” Luci groaned.

“What’s that, your majesty?” Not an honest question.

“Enough stretching. Fuck me.”

Alastor felt a small twitch of annoyance, “Very demanding, aren’t we?” But when Luci wiggled his butt side to side, the feeling fell apart. Memories of Luci’s soft flesh flooding back. A different taste to you, but one he still enjoyed. A snack he actually could see himself craving.

“Can I come in, kitten?” Luci’s lips were soft and puffy from repeated kisses to your own. Speaking was still a struggle but you managed to croak, “Yes please.”

“Kittens ready, Bambi.” Not said as mockingly as it usually was.

You felt the tendril slide out of you and Luci’s heat prod at your entrance. Lucifer kissed you, tongue feeling over yours and distracting you before thrusting his considerable length in. One long intrusion, lubed lips sliding as he sunk in. Buried to the hilt, Luci sucked on your tongue as you tensed under his lithe body. He stayed busy with your mouth until you relaxed again.

His tail whipped up and found Alastor’s heat, slipping around and hooking under his balls and tugging the sinner gently toward his ass.

Alastor began to wonder if he had actually won the rock paper scissors match or not. He didn’t intend to make the breathy moan in response, Lucifer beckoning him to enter his now softened hole. Claws settling into the smaller man’s hips as he stared for a moment where Lucifer’s cock was hidden in you. He could see your wetness pushing out with tiny twitches. 

He pressed down and forward on Luci, spreading his cheeks before pressing into his body. You felt Luci’s breath hitch, watching his face as he moaned, “Fuuuck.”

Was this fair? Were you too lucky of a sinner? Was there a second hell you should be sent to?

As Alastor entered Lucifer, you felt Luci’s cock moving in you. As Alastor pulled out, Luci’s own pulled back a little too. As Alastor thrust in, so did Luci. Your head craned back, stomach tightening as you considered you were somehow fucked by Alastor by way of Luci’s movements. How could you feel so close to someone you weren’t touching? How could you feel Alastor through the warm skin of Lucifer? 

Luci lifted himself up on his elbows, eyes closed as he let delicious sounds tumble from his throat and down to you.  

Lucifer always enjoyed hugs, and this could be considered the ultimate hug! Ass full of Alastor, cock sheathed in you, he felt impossibly loved. Alastor was panting behind him, cock still growing in Lucifer with every pull of his clenching asshole. You breathing heavy under him, his impressive cockhead knocking at your womb.

Aah, he wanted more. He wanted to feel more. Surrounded by pleasure and breaths and warmth and wetness. Horns began to grow slowly from his forehead, the prideful king feeling greed. More. Give him everything. Fuck him like he was the downfall of man, because he fucking was. He tempted humanity into ruin so ruin him in turn. He gave humans sin, now return the favor.

“Alastor-!,” Lucifer rolled back onto Alastor, dragging his swollen cock past your g-spot as he did, “I won’t break. Fuck me.”

Alastor’s hips stilled, he felt his vision distort in front of him but had no time to regain composure as Lucifer began pushing on and off him. He could hear your suddenly high pitched moans coming from somewhere, his eyes closing. 

Torn. Listen to the command and destroy the tiny body under him? Or disobey, and miss out on the pleasure of losing control?

He didn’t have to decide, eyes opening in time to watch Lucifer look back over his shoulder as he bounced his ass on Alastor’s crotch, “Breed me, Allie.”

Alastor wasn’t aware he had kinks, nor that the word had any meaning other than ‘bend’, but that didn’t stop his body’s reaction.

You shuddered, the words going straight to your crotch. Which is also where Luci’s cock was stuffed back as Alastor fucked down into the man with punishing force and speed. Luci’s eyes were losing focus above you. His movements into you just the bouncing of his hips as Alastor now seemed fully intent on chasing some impossible goal.

Just past Luci’s horns you could see dark branch like antlers reaching out. The feeling of Luci snapping in and out of you, just a few inches actually leaving you but it was enough, had your mouth hanging open with soundless gasps. You could feel yourself getting wetter around him, dripping down your cheeks.

Luci’s eyes tried to stay on you, fighting back the call of subspace, “Kiss me, kitten. I need to feel you, too.”

He leaned down and offered his open mouth, tongue snaking out. You sat up on your arms to reach. Licking up his tongue and to his lips before closing your mouth around his. He tangled with you, occupying your mouth and pussy.

Alastor’s mind was fuzzy around the edges as he tore his eyes from Luci’s hole to watch you two kissing. A fire was burning through him, an arousal he hadn’t felt before when seeing people kiss. Perhaps because you two were his. 

Could he say that? His hips didn’t stop, humping Lucifer’s backside like an animal in rut. Rut. He lifted one leg, bending his knee to get more power behind his thrusts. 

Alastor grabbed Luci’s right wrist and held it at the small of Luci’s back and pushed down. Luci crashed into you, knocking the breath from your lungs. Alastor’s freehand came to your bent legs and left small scratches up the sides of your thighs.

You tapped Luci twice on his arm where your hands were gripping. His tail sent the message to Alastor’s waist where it had the larger demon leashed.

A lighthouse in the fog, Alastor took both hands off of you and Lucifer and slowed, waiting.

“Don’t crush her, Alastor. Just me.” Lucifer sighed, taking the chance to catch his breath. 

Alastor rubbed your thighs, gentle circles massaging into you, “Forgive me, wont you? Momentarily lost my senses.”

You clenched around Luci, who moaned out your name in response. Alastor took a second to survey the sex pile before him. He took a hold of both Luci’s wrists and pulled Luci’s chest off of you, “Did I hear you right? You won't break?” Alastor spoke into Luci’s shoulder before cutting into skin with his teeth. Lucifer could only groan, “Nngh Alas—-,” clenched teeth through a wave of pleasure and pain, “-stor.”

Your hands reached up to pet at Lucifer’s body. As Alastor started again you pressed down gently where you could see Alastor pushing out beneath Lucifer’s stomach. Luci bit his lip. Hands here and there, body used and petted. Your cunt super heated and dripping around him, making obscene sounds every time his skin was pulled from yours. This is what he wanted. 

Lucifer felt Alastor expanding in him, blood rushing for a final push before his orgasm. He wanted to feel it, Alastor’s hot cum flooding him. 

“Please, fill me up,” it was the last full sentence Luci could manage as Alastor slipped back into primal autopilot. Hips pistoning into Luci’s ass with sharp and sticky slaps. 

“Ffuuuuu-,” Luci’s moans melted into pleasured screams, his voice suddenly higher as the air was fucked out of his body. Muscles tightening, he wished he could hold your hand as his orgasm surprised him. 

Your gentle sounds, noises pushed out of your body with the slide of Luci’s cock against your cervix, quieted as you felt a rush of warmth. You were quickly becoming addicted to that feeling.

“Cumming?” Alastor asked, hearing Luci’s change of pitch and feeling the sudden spasms so strong around his dick it felt like Luci was sucking him in to his body. You moved your head to finally get a good look at Alastor.

He was sweating, face flush and lips peppered with tiny cuts from where his teeth bit down too hard. You nodded to him, Luci going completely silent as his eyes seemed to spin in his skull. 

Alastor’s smile softened at the sight of you, “Feeling good, dear?”

“Best hangover ever.”’ You said.

He hummed happily, lowering Luci’s upper body to rest on you, he lifted Luci’s ass up with both hands and fucked the devil with no worries of hurting you. Luci made a kind of half gasp half squeak with every thrust. A whimpered, “slower, sensitive” into your neck. As Alastor milked himself empty with Luci’s taut hole, Luci’s dick slipped out of you, soft and sticky head being swung against your clit with the after-thrusts of Alastor’s orgasm.

You had two thoughts. One, you were suddenly grateful for Alastor’s normally nearly non-existent sex drive. If you all attempted this as often as Luci and You enjoyed sex, you’d all be raw and dehydrated on a daily basis. And Two, you were so horny still that it nearly hurt. Unaware women could get blue balls, you pushed your thighs together and ground up a little into Lucifer.

A moment of silence. The two partners above you riding out their shared sensations, Alastor still very slowly moving, Lucifer hissing with your body hitting at this overly stimulated dick.

Luci rolled off of you to return to your right side. Alastor walked to the bathroom, cleaning himself before returning to your left side. Your breath was finally calming, covers pulled over your quickly cooling bodies. Alastor pulled you into him, spooning you as you faced Luci.

Lucifer was glowing, everything had gone to plan. He knew Alastor would never let him have you to the extent he wanted. Not while he saw Lucifer as a threat to the relationship. And while he had accepted that initial offering of sex with you with zero interest in Alastor, he had come to find him…palatable. If being with you meant being with Alastor, too, he had decided during your praise of them at the party the other night that he would endear the radio demon to him. 

He shuddered at the emptiness he felt now. Maybe the plan had worked too well…was he such a great deceiver he managed to trick himself into liking Alastor?

Luci watched your hand snake between your thighs as you opened them under the covers. Soft features now erotic, eyes half lidded and mouth agape, he realized Alastor had taken to task helping you finish. He took the opportunity to kiss your cheeks, your forehead, the bridge of your nose. He whispered sweet compliments and praise into your flushed skin as you lazily found a small release around Alastor. The ache melted from lap as you finally snapped that string of tension. 

You pulled off of Alastor and crawled over Luci, “You’re in the middle today.” You took your place as big spoon and watched Alastor scoot closer to Luci, eyes nervously looking everywhere else.

Perhaps it was the hormones from his arousal, or the debauched scent in the air of sex, but he was seeing that space you typically occupied not as an obstacle to the person on the other side but a bridge. Luci lied there, spent and grinning. He was a connection to you, a shared something Alastor wasn’t comfortable confronting yet that deepened the well of affection you each pulled from.

His let his arm extend, resting on Lucifer’s hip as your own hugged Luci from behind. As post orgasm exhaustion dragged you into an early sleep, you drifted off to the sight of Alastor smiling at you, his hand settling beside Luci’s on the pillow.

ଳ⊹₊ ⋆ masterlist

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Lost in the Woods (dp x dc)

"Why are we here again?" Tucker asked as he rearranged his backpack straps.

"Because you lost a bet and Gotham Woods are my best chance of seeing a real satanic ritual," Sam answered.

“Hey, no,” Danny protested. “We said no spooky business. This is strictly for fun.”

“Fun,” Tucker repeated, dryly. “This is how most horror movies start, you know. Camping in the woods at night.”

“I highly doubt there’s any serial killer out there,” the halfa soothed. “I checked the news. There are no escape convicts right now.”

“The Riddler’s out,” Sam refuted.

“Can you imagine that pasty twig-man willingly trudging through the woods though?” Danny asked.

“I probably go out more often than him,” Tucker conceded.

“Which means we’re all good,” Danny concluded.

The trio walked a bit further before reaching the spot they had brought the rest of their bags and dropped their heavy backpacks beside it. Tucker fell down beside them before raising a hand to chase away a mosquito that was buzzing around.

“I hate this already,” he whined as he tried to smack the bug.

“Get up,” Sam said as she nudged him with her foot. “We gotta get the tent up.”

With a groan, he stood up and they got to work on the tent. It didn’t take very long, thanks to Danny’s experience in pitching Fenton Work tents, which had come from the numerous times his family had gone camping.

“What now?” The halfa asked.

“Why don’t we walk around a little?” Sam suggested.

“Can’t we take a minute to breathe?” Tucker complained.

“It’ll be fun,” Danny encouraged his friend as he offered a hand getting to his feet again.

"I'm beginning to think you don't know what that means."

They grabbed some water and snacks before setting towards one of the closest hiking trails. It was supposed to be an easy quick walk, but as time went on the path became more and more wild and overgrown, they started doubting the way. By the time they had stopped, the path was now nonexistent.

“We’re lost,” Tucker said. “The sun is setting and we’re lost in the creepy satanic woods.”

“First of all,” Sam started. “I have a compass, and second, we have Danny. We’ll be fine.”

“Oh I see how it is,” the halfa dramatically said. “You guys are just using me for my powers.”

Before the goth could make a proper answer to that, Tucker shushed them both before dragging them towards some thick bushes. A few moments later they could see two men in long robes carrying a third, unconscious man in a black and blue outfit.

“Those goddamned bats,” one of the ones wearing cultist robes said as he struggled to carry the unconscious man’s legs.

“Shut up and move faster,” the other cultist said. “The Grandmaster said to get him to the Barn before sundown.”

“I’m trying my best here,” the first one said. “Those robes don’t exactly make it easy.”

“They’re ceremonial!”

“Right now they’re a ceremonial pain in my butt,” the first cultist retorted which made the other sputter.

As they moved passed the three teens’ hiding spot, their voices faded in the distance. The ensuing silence was broken by Sam's “Dibs on any skulls when we raid the evil lair”.

“Why can we never have normal vacations?” Danny mumbled as he let his face fall in his hands.

[whereserpentswalk]

Like to give your creature a pat on the head. Reblog to get them to come to you. Tag your friends to increase their power. Look under the cut to see what it's like to meet your creature.

The vampire: She first comes to you as a shadow entering your room but takes fleshy form as she comes to the seat of your bed, wearing men's clothes from centuries ago. Though she is not of this world anymore you can tell that she once was human, even if such humanity is long forgotten. Her mouth shifts, from something massive and monstrous, with many fangs and moving parts, to something more humanoid, though still with sharp steel fangs in place of teeth. She sings to you and old forgotten song, of gods only spoken about by humans in taboo whispers, and fleshes you look of her ever-young bright red eyes. You begin to harmonize, your voices meeting as equals, as she begins to rest on your lap, and let herself be pet like a cat. You feel the shape of her body, it's so cold. She begs for your blood in song, and you give it to her as you pet her head, her mouth opens up to its monstrous size again, but she's so loyal and submissive as she drinks from your hand, like a bird eating right out of your palm.

The ghost: The room fills with red, as red and a blood moon, and red as a fresh beating heart. Spirits rise and you see something ancient lash towards you, hir hands like a mantis's claws, hir face like a skull yet featureless save for two dark eyes, hir red body covered in bug like limbs and tentacles and shimming egg cases. Sie turns hir head to look at you and sie rushes at you like a deadly predator but passes through you, eldritch ghostly wires wrapping around hir like chains to pull hir back to you as sie bows, defeated, begging with only a look not to be banished. You're not sure if sie is terrifying, pathetic, or honorable, but as you put your hand out sie seems somewhat honored to be allowed to stand up. You wonder what sie's thinking but you don't think to ask, it's only barely dawned on you that such an inhuman creature has a mind like yours, that sie is sentient, that hir race was much like yours when they were still alive. You just look at each other for a good amount of time, not sure who is more powerful.

The angel: They first come to you in an empty subway station, the ruins on the ground barely keeping you safe from them. Yet they look forlorn, like they would not have the energy to hurt you. Their form is pale and ghostly, white and colorless, the only mark of brightness being the blood that stains their hands, and wings. Chains weight down their slender body, as a veil hides their face. For a small moment they spread their six great wings, showing you their true size and power even in their cursed state. Eye sockets open for you for a brief moment, all over their body, all of them empty. Terrifying as they are none would deny that they are in great pain. You reach your hand out and gently whisper "it's ok" as they slow down and look at you as if they have not seen such sympathy from a creature in a long time. They extend a hand for you to hold, and you grab it, pet it for a slight moment, and you can feel a long dead fire seep through your veins. "It's ok." "It's ok."

The faceless woman: Deep beyond the city limits, where no light shines save for the stars, you see her, spiderwebs and shadows her friends, and faeries and dead gods her masters. She looks like a human at first, tall and long haired, in a ragged suit that covers her flesh. But then you see her head, and where her face could have been there is only a black pick, a hole that no normal human could survive to have. It looks at first like the void is of pure darkness, but inside it you have catch a glimpse of countless teeth like a lamprey's. She seems to laugh though she has no mouth, amused that a human would think to approach her, but you approach her even more, wondering what she even is. She suddenly gets excited as she sees something in your eyes, sees that you won't back down. You offer her some raw meat, a sign of good will, as you put it in her hands, she consumes it by causing it to melt into dust in her hands. She looks at you, as an ally, an accomplice, if she could, she would have smiled.

Paladin: She stands before you, bowing strangely, so submissively, though she's so obviously strong enough to rip you apart. It's strange to think this creature is actually in your room, that she's actually yours, that she was once a human like you. You can see where the plate and chain is fused to her neck, her hands eternally attached to her sword and flintlock, her eyes looking up at you wish a strange sadness. There's blood on her face and hair that will never wash out. As you come closer she seems afraid of you, like you could ruin her in ways that she could never hope to ruin you, despite her power and prowess. You ask if you can pet her head and she nods, you aren't sure yet if she could speak to you if she wanted. When you so gently pet and stroke her face and hair, she seems so happy, so happy to have someone treat her in such a way. You tell her that she's doing well, that she did a good job, it seems like she needed to hear that.

Autumn faerie: He looks down at you from the tome that he walked out of the world around them blackened until he's all that you're able to see. A smiling mask rests on his face, and far more cover his body, the only clothing on his strange body, almost human, almost extremely not human, bright wings sprouting from the flesh of his back. He looks at you, studying you, like he already knows so much about you but now he finally gets to see you. Is he impressed? He at the very least seems as if he's satisfied. He hands you a mask, you don't know how, but it looks like you, not literally, it looks more like an animal then a human, but it looks like your true face, like just as you summoned and bound him with his true name, he gets this from you in his return. You put on the mask, the deal is signed at it rings with pleasure, you'll never be the same again.

Harpy: You first see zir on a fire escape, the lights of the buildings around zir shining like stars against the starless night sky. You can only see zir eyes at first, shining gold against the darkness of zir body. But you call zir into your apartment with a forgotten tongue and watch a ze lands near you, so very alien but so very close. Zir body is marked by feathered wings, and zir form are like a bird's from the waist down, blue and white and gold as if they were painted, you can tell zir body was crafted directly by the gods themselves. You call upon zir with a song long forgotten and wondered what the look in zir eyes means. Though ze is beautiful ze has taken lives, and though ze is humanlike in some regards to zir shape, zir movements are so alien. You let zir carry you, and it feels strangely good to be held, and let zir fly with you, above the city streets, looking down at things most will never see, at birds and clouds flying past you, and at the world below, so many people, and somehow you feel safe with the wind rushing past your hair.

Incubus: You see him, sitting in an empty office building. His humanoid form is slender and short and more pretty than he is handsome, the only reason you think of him as male being his flat chest. You can he's now human from the raven's wings and scorpion's tail on his back, the branching horns and snakes for hair on his head, his sharp teeth and the stars shaped pupils. The clothing he wears is loose and comfortable, as if it was chosen in a state of depression. You expected more confidence when you summoned him. He backs away from you afraid, afraid of what you'll do to him. It looks like monster hunters got to him before you had a chance to, he's lucky to even be alive. You set out some rat's souls for him to eat so he'll trust you more, and you assure him that it's ok, that he's safe. He starts crying a bit as he looks at you, and after he finishes eating you offer to hug him. He lets you and you feel his body be surrounded by your arms. He's afraid but enjoying the affection so much as you assure him again that you won't hurt him.

Golem: They sit by you in abandoned mall, displaying so much power as they move steel pipes to the side to get closer to you. Their strength mired by the way even the smallest rip seems to be something them need to avoid. You look at them, their body so perfectly created, like human sized origami, the letter of life on their head being the only thing that marks their pure white paper body. You ask them to follow you, but they won't follow, a single puddle blocks their path, no obstacle for you, but even a being of their power has weaknesses. You slowly clear it, putting objects you can find over the puddle until finally they can follow you out into the light, still afraid of the sky you hand them an umbrella, just in case...

Undead: You first see him in a dark alleyway that the sun cannot meet him in. You wonder how many dimensions he's been to, how many dimensions he's been from, before he got here. He looks at you with three eyes of different colors. Skin stitched together across him, of different colors and textures and levels of rot, clothing resting on him from several different lives. He chatters, first in one voice asking where he is, where he could be. Then another voice questions you, wondering who you are, why you'd want to see him. Another voice looks at his own face in a piece of shattered glass and screams in terror. For a moment you think he'd attack, you're not sure if the spell would protect you. But he doesn't, he just looks at you for a while, confused perhaps. You ask him if he wants to follow you, and he seems to. Within his storm of countless voices, he decides to ask you, almost with all at once, "who am I." After thinking for a while you decide to answer, "You're you."

Demon: You stand in a closed down amusement part, the sea beside you shining like in the moonlight as he rises out of the water. He's massive; larger than you expected. His body a pale white as he rises out of the newly boiling water, his three heads eat long and sharp toothed like an alligator's, his eyes as red freshly cut meat, seven tattered wings on his back expanding to nearly cover the sky. He laughs, you're not sure how sadistic or how genuine it is considering the unreadable expressions of his reptilian heads. He charges at you with his teeth gnashing and blood pouring out of each of his mouths. But the spell blocks him like a shield made out of the air. As he fails to attack you more, he becomes frustrated, then tired, and rests on a rollercoaster. He seems to respect you knowing you were able to bind him like that, and regardless of if he likes it or not, he's yours now.

Shapeshifter: She slowly walks towards you out from the tunnel, she experiments with forms to see how you react; a small white kitten, a robotic humanoid woman, a long-haired demoness, a woman made out of blue slime. You can tell she's seen a lot of creatures before, that you're not her first master, she's known vampires, and werewolves, and demons in her time. It doesn't seem like many of them have been kind to her. You call to her and bring her closer with your magic. Slowly you watch her, you just wait as she changes her form, getting more experimental with the bodies she's willing to take. You just look at her, letting her be herself, letting her show you her art. Eventually she settles on something that feels like herself, something that she can be comfortable following you home with.

[cgunderwearstories]

The Underwear Volleyball Game

It was a blistering summer afternoon, the kind of day where the sun feels like it's throwing a tantrum, making everything and everyone melt. The local adult volleyball team, "Spiked Punch," had gathered for their weekly game at the park. The sand was so hot it felt like walking on a griddle, and everyone was already sweating through their clothes before the warm-up was even finished.

"Guys," Greg, the team captain, panted as he wiped the sweat off his forehead, "I don’t know about you, but I’m cooking alive here. What do you say we make this a little more…comfortable?"

The team looked at each other, eyebrows raised.

"I’m game," said Tony, who was known for his impulsive decisions. "But let’s keep it PG. How about… underwear only?"

A few chuckles rippled through the group, but as they all stood there, feeling the sun beat down on them, the idea started to sound better and better.

"Alright, let's do it," said Mitch, always the first to jump on board with any wild idea. "It’s not like we haven’t seen each other in worse."

Soon, a chorus of agreement followed, and the players began stripping down, leaving only their underwear.

Team "Boxer Brigade," as they now called themselves, consisted of:

Greg, the team captain, who sported a pair of red boxers with little white skulls on them. A tough guy on the court, but apparently a fan of quirky designs.

Tony, always the life of the party, had on bright yellow boxers with smiley faces all over them. They practically glowed in the sunlight, much like his personality.

Mitch, the wildcard, was wearing boxers with little superheroes on them. Every time he jumped, Spider-Man, Batman, and the Hulk seemed to battle it out in mid-air.

Dave, the quiet one of the group, was full of surprises. His boxers were a deep purple with neon green dinosaurs stomping across them. No one saw that coming.

Sam, the prankster, had on boxers covered in cartoon pizza slices, complete with gooey cheese and pepperoni. It wasn’t clear if he loved pizza that much, or just wanted to mess with everyone’s concentration.

Oliver, the team’s tallest player, sported boxers with little surfing penguins riding waves. The contrast of his tall, lanky frame with the tiny penguins was enough to make everyone giggle.

On the other side of the net was Team Tighties, who had an altogether different look:

Ryan, the co-captain, was rocking classic white tighty whities. But not just any tighty whities—his had the words “Captain Underpants” embroidered on the waistband. It was a power move, really.

Mark, the team's gym buff, was in Jockey white bikini briefs, which left very little to the imagination. He flexed unnecessarily often, making sure everyone knew exactly how much time he spent at the gym.

Jake, the strategist, had on what could only be described as “vintage” tighty whities. They were a bit faded, with a slightly stretched-out waistband. He claimed they were his lucky pair from college.

Brad, the jokester, wore white briefs with little hearts on them. "They’re from Valentine’s Day," he explained, but no one asked.

Steve, the guy who always seemed to have everything in order, wore white cotton panties with the days of the week on the back. Today was “Sunday” written in glittery black cursive.

Frank, the quiet but intense player, had on tighty whities with a single, tiny, embroidered teddy bear on the left side. No one dared to ask about the teddy bear.

As they got into position, the spectators gathered around couldn’t help but laugh, but the teams were undeterred.

Despite their new attire, the game began with a fierce serve from Ryan. The ball was flying back and forth across the net, and the sight of grown men diving in colorful boxers and tighty whities was a spectacle to behold. Every time Mitch jumped, his superheros battled it out in epic slow-motion. Oliver’s penguins seemed to surf along with him as he went for spikes. And Ryan’s tighty whities, emblazoned with “Captain Underpants,” gave him an almost heroic flair, or so he liked to think.

The sun was blazing down on the park, and the game had reached a whole new level of intensity. The teams, Boxer Brigade and Team Tighties, were locked in an epic battle, both on the court and—unbeknownst to one side—off of it.

What no one knew was that Tony, the mischievous trickster of the Boxer Brigade, had secretly brought along a volleyball with a strange, mystical marking on it. Tony had picked it up from an old, dusty shop he’d stumbled upon while on vacation in the middle of nowhere. The shopkeeper had warned him that the ball was "enchanted" and would “stir the passions of any who played with it.” Tony, never one to pass up on a good prank, figured that could only mean fun for the game. He didn’t believe in magic, but he did believe in chaos, and that was just as good.

As the match went on, the ball—glowing faintly in the scorching sunlight—moved between the teams with increasing speed and intensity. The heat, exhaustion, and the competitive spirit were all getting to Team Tighties. But something else was starting to take hold too: the curse.

It began subtly. Ryan, the co-captain of Team Tighties, missed a serve by just a hair. Mark, the gym buff, rolled his eyes and muttered something about how he could’ve done it better. Ryan shot him a glare, his tighty whities (emblazoned with “Captain Underpants”) seeming to tighten as his temper flared.

"You think you could do better?" Ryan snapped, his face flushing red as the heat, and something more sinister, started to boil over.

"Maybe if you spent more time practicing and less time strutting around in those kiddie undies, you wouldn’t miss!" Mark shot back, flexing his biceps for emphasis.

The rest of Team Tighties watched in stunned silence as their two most level-headed players began to bicker. But soon, the curse’s influence spread like wildfire.

Jake, the strategist with the slightly faded tighty-whities, stepped in to try and cool things down, but Brad, always the jokester, saw an opportunity. With a quick motion, Brad yanked on Jake’s waistband, giving him a classic wedgie that sent Jake stumbling forward.

"Hey, what the hell, man?!" Jake yelled, his hands clawing at his back to free his underwear from the deep wedgie. But before he could retaliate, Steve, ever the organized one, piped up with a sarcastic comment about how Jake probably had his lucky vintage undies on the wrong day of the week.

That was it. The curse had fully taken hold.

Chaos erupted on the court. Ryan and Mark, who had once been the pillars of the team, were now locked in a ridiculous fight, each one trying to pants the other. Mark’s grip was strong from his hours at the gym, and he managed to yank Ryan’s underpants down to his ankles. But before Ryan could respond, Mark found his own waistband in Ryan’s grasp, and in a swift motion, Mark’s bikini briefs were down around his knees.

Brad, meanwhile, had moved on from wedgies to full-on tearing. He grabbed the waistband of Steve’s "Sunday" panties and, with a mighty pull, ripped it clean in half. Steve, horrified at the destruction of his perfectly planned outfit, lunged at Brad and managed to get his hands on Brad’s heart-patterned briefs. A rip echoed across the court as Brad’s underwear met the same fate.

Jake, who had finally freed himself from his wedgie, saw Frank standing calmly on the side, seemingly unaffected. Frank, with his tiny embroidered teddy bear on his tighty whities, had always been the quiet one, the calm one. But the curse didn’t care. Jake rushed at Frank, ready to take him down in the same ridiculous manner that was sweeping across the team.

Frank, caught off guard, tried to dodge, but Jake was quick. He grabbed Frank’s waistband and gave it a solid yank. Frank’s tighty whities stretched, but instead of tearing, they snapped back with a resounding thwack that sent Frank stumbling forward. Jake wasn’t done. Fueled by the curse, he reached out and delivered a wedgie so fierce that Frank let out a yelp of surprise.

The scene on the court was one of absolute chaos. The once-proud Team Tighties was now a mess of torn underwear, bruised egos, and sand-covered bodies. The Boxer Brigade, standing on the other side of the net, watched with a mix of horror and amusement. They hadn’t expected the curse to take things this far.

“Uh… should we stop this?” Greg asked, glancing at Tony, who was still holding the cursed volleyball, now glowing slightly in his hands.

“I didn’t think it would actually work,” Tony admitted, looking genuinely concerned for the first time.

“Well, do something!” Mitch yelled, dodging a rogue piece of torn tighty whities that flew across the net.

Tony, unsure of what to do, quickly muttered, “Uh, I reverse the curse! Take it back! Whatever!” and threw the ball to the ground. The glowing ceased immediately.

As if a switch had been flipped, the members of Team Tighties suddenly stopped in their tracks, blinking as if waking from a dream. They looked around at the destruction—torn underwear hanging off in tatters, sand stuck to sweaty, naked bodies, and a few still mid-wedgie.

Ryan was the first to speak. “What the hell just happened?”

“I… I don’t know,” Mark said, looking down at his ruined tighty whities and then at the remains of Ryan’s. “But I’m pretty sure we just ripped each other’s underwear to shreds.”

There was a moment of silence as the reality of the situation set in. Then, as if on cue, everyone burst into laughter. The sight of each other, standing there in what little was left of their underwear, was too ridiculous to take seriously.

“Nice moves there, ‘Captain Underpants,’” Mark said, slapping Ryan on the back, causing him to stumble forward, tripping over his shredded tighty whities.

“Yeah, well, I don’t think your gym buddies would’ve fared any better,” Ryan shot back, laughing so hard he had to wipe tears from his eyes.

The rest of the team was in similar states of disarray, apologizing between fits of laughter. Steve, holding the remains of his Sunday briefs, shook his head with a grin. “Guess I’m gonna need a new pair for next week.”

Tony, still holding the now-normal volleyball, sheepishly approached the group. “Uh, guys? About that… I might have brought a cursed volleyball. Sorry about that.”

The looks he got were a mix of disbelief and amusement.

“Tony, you’re an idiot,” Jake said, still trying to pull the last of the sand out of his tattered briefs.

“Yeah, but we’re idiots too, for going along with it,” Brad added, giving Tony a playful shove.

In the end, the game was forgotten in favor of recovering their dignity—or what was left of it. They all promised to meet up again next week, but with one condition: normal volleyballs, normal clothes, and definitely no curses.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Bad Guy 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The men your mother brings home rarely stick around, but her latest catch can't seem to unhook himself from your life.

Characters: Destroyer!Chris

Note: I'm going to a physio today for the first time.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The house is quiet as you come out of your room. The single floor is just enough room for you and your mom. You’ve never needed much else and all your life, you’ve made do with what you have. It’s just the way it is.

You stretch your arms and arch your spine as you stop in the doorway of the kitchen. You yawn. You fell asleep reading outdated discussions about your most recent syndicated obsession. You should know better by now, that thorn in your neck is only driving deeper. 

You bend at the elbows to rub your neck and drag your feet over the cold tile. Your nipple poke rigidly against your cropped tank top and goosebumps raze up your bare thighs. You open the fridge and pull out the bottle of orange juice, your panties riding up with your movement.  

Before you can stand straight, a sharp strikes snaps against your ass and radiates through your flesh. You yipe and grip the bottle by the neck as you jump and turn to face the culprit. The strange man stares back, his brows twitching. 

“Mm, you’re not Gail,” he mutters. 

“No, I’m not,” you press the juice to your chest, overly aware of your barely covered body.  

You don’t ask who he is. You stopped doing that in middle school. She’s another one of her ‘callers’. You don’t usually see them more than once, if at all. Most leave before you’re awake. 

“Was takin’ a piss, heard you skittering around, thought...” he trails off into a shrug. 

He’s shirtless too. He only wears a pair of briefs as he stands shameless before you. A dark tattoo covers half his chest and extends around his shoulder and down his arm. It’s the typical snake and skull aesthetic sported by men like him. 

“Nope,” you reach for the fridge door and step to the side as you close it.  

He doesn’t move. You go to dip around him and he moves with you. 

“Taking all that with you?” He points at the bottle. You look down and sigh. You push it towards him. “Here.” 

He puts his hand under it and you let go. You skirt around his other side and squeeze through the door behind him. You don’t look back as you flee to your room. You resist the urge to reach back and cover the bottom of your ass, not wanting to draw attention to it if he is watching. 

You shut your bedroom door and cringe. Great. You can’t really complain. Your mother hasn’t kicked you out. Yet. Not like half your friends’ parents. She just asks for half the rent and you can manage that. With the rent around here, you’d be on the street otherwise. 

You cross the room and flop on the bed. You pull out your phone and go back to scrolling the old discussion boards. It’s funny. The more recent posts are totally contrary to the ones when the show aired. You’re not sure who you agree with. 

You roll onto your back and drop your phone to the mattress. You have to work at noon. So much for a relaxing morning. You’ll just be hiding in your room until that man leaves. 

A knock jerks you up and you roll your eyes. You search the floor and pull on the wrinkly pajama bottoms. You go to the door and crack it open an inch. It’s him. 

“Uh, hi?” You utter dully. 

“Got you a glass,” he offers one of the cups in his hands. You squint at it then look him in the face. 

“Thanks?” You go to take it but he doesn’t let go as you wrap your fingers around the cold glass.  

“There a problem?” He asks. 

“Uh, no,” you scrunch your nose. “I said thanks.” 

“I don’t like your tone.” 

You let go of the glass and retract your hand. His eyes flick down and yours do too. The white tank does little for your modesty. You cross your arms. 

“Okay? Well, never mind,” you go to close the door and he steps forward, digging his elbow into the wood as he blocks you with his body. 

“Your mom said you’re a nice girl,” he looks you up and down again. “Coulda fooled me walking around like that.” 

You frown. It’s your house. Why should you worry about what you’re wearing? Besides, if you knew he was there, then you wouldn’t wander around in your panties. 

“Thanks for the orange juice but you should just give it to my mom. That’s why you’re here,” you shrug. 

He scoffs. “Got a smart mouth.” 

“No, I—I didn’t do anything.” 

“There you go again. Disrespectful.” 

“Huh?” You shake your head in confusion. 

“That way you talk. Low and flat, like you don’t give a fuck. Maybe you don’t. Would explain why you’re grown living in your mommy’s house,” he mockingly pouts. 

You blink, “you don’t know me.” 

“I know girls like you. Pretending like they don’t care. You care. We both know you do.” He moves a glass closer, “say thank you. Like you mean it.” 

“I don’t want it,” you insist. 

“Don’t want to waste it. Was it you or mommy who paid for the bottle?” He taunts. 

You grit your teeth. What is his problem? Why won’t he just leave you alone? 

You deflate. You really just want him to go. You look at the ceiling then back to him. He’s the kind of man you would avoid on the street. His blue eyes are as cold as ice and his hair is shaved, but a little longer on top, and he sports a goatee amid the short stubble on his jaw and cheeks. 

“Thank you,” you reach for the glass again. 

“Thank you, sir,” his voice grizzles as he corrects you. 

You steel yourself and your lips slant. You really just want him to tell him to fuck off but like you always do, you don’t say what you think. You keep it inside. Put on that face that keeps you safe. 

“Thank you, sir,” you repeat after him. 

“Now smile,” he demands. 

You flinch and look away. You take a breath. That’s you’re least favourite, when they tell you to smile. It happens often at your job and it always sours your day. 

You force a smile. 

“Come on, you can do better,” he snickers. 

Your cheeks tremble and your smile falls. You tuck your chin down. 

“Can you please just leave me alone?” You mumble. 

“Excuse me, girl? I can’t hear you.” 

“I said...” your throat locks up and your eyes singe. God! When you get angry, you don’t get bold, you just get teary. You hate it. “I said ‘thank you, sir’.” 

You grab the glass so abruptly that it sloshes over the side. You don’t stop, you just spin and throw your weight against the door. He lets it close and it slams. You spill most of the juice down your front. 

You hear the friction of his fingers dragging down the wood. It sends a chill through you. You slowly pull away and put the glass down, juice dripping down your arms and chest. 

He’ll be gone soon, just like the rest. 

💀

Your mom’s still asleep when you leave for work. As you sneak out of your room, you listen for any sign of life.  If the man’s there, he doesn’t make himself known. You step into your shoes and leave through the front door without looking back. 

You head down the street with your earbuds in, a podcast about an old show you watched in high school droning on, as you take the shortcut behind the house at the end of the street. It’s almost four blocks to work but you save money on bus fare. You try to only waste the change after dark. 

The ice cream shop is never very busy outside of the post-soccer game crowds. You take your vigil behind the cold counter and bob along with the radio station’s Top 10 countdown. Miley leans in the corner by the till as she chews gum and scrolls through her phone. 

You’re fidgety to do the same, but you hate just letting your eyes glaze over. You pace a bit back and forth until her shift is up. When she’s gone, you feel a little less on edge. You always prefer being alone, you don’t have to worry about performing. 

Customers come and go. You greet them with the usual ‘how can I help?’ You’ve never been very good at the customer service part but you’re not rude. You just do your job, which it to scoop ice cream and toss some sprinkles around. 

You’re entitled to one cone a shift. You rarely have it. You don’t need the extra sugar or the brain freeze. That day, as you close up, the chocolate peanut butter entices you to go outside your routine. You put the lids on all the canisters except for that flavour and do yourself up a waffle cone before you lock up. 

You lick the softening cream and turn to face the dark plaza, lit only by the overhead marquee. There’s a car idling just by the curb. You ignore it. A few neighbouring businesses close up around the same time. 

The engine revs, and it jolts forward. The horn nearly has you throwing your cone. You fall back into step and keep walking. The Trans Am continues to follow you and honks again. The window rolls down as someone whistles. Only your name stops you. 

You turn and bend to see through the window. What the heck? It’s him. The man that invaded your house and threatened you over orange juice. 

You exhale through your nose and stand up. You turn down the pavement and keep going. The bus will be there any moment. 

“Hey,” he barks, “get back here.” 

You keep going. Why is he there? Because of the orange juice? 

The car door opens and closes. You speed up as you hear him following you. 

“Your mom sent me to pick you up,” he says. 

You snort, “sure she did.” 

“Really,” he says as his footsteps echo yours. 

“She doesn’t even know when I work,” you keep going and he catches your arm, yanking you back. 

You spin to face him and yelp. Your scoop shifts precariously in the cone. You try to pull away but not too hard as you selfishly want to keep your treat intact. 

“Alright. I offered. I heard you leave. Figured you could use a lift.” He squeezes and you whimper. “I can be a nice guy.” 

Can be. 

You wince and flutter your lashes, “can you let me go... please?” 

He opens his fingers sharply and lifts his hand, showing his palm. “Since you said please...” 

You look over your shoulder then back at him. Finally, you glance at your cone. You weigh your options. You’re not a quick runner. 

“I appreciate the ride but--” 

“I appreciate the ride, sir. Like I said, I can be nice, but respect is earned, girl.” 

You swallow tightly, cheeks pinching. 

“Sir, I appreciate the ride but I have money for the bus--” 

He clucks and points over your shoulder, “that bus?” 

You turn and watch the headlights blow by the stop. You flick your eyes to the sky and face him again. “Mmhmm.”” 

“So, is that a ‘thank you, sir’ on your lips?” He challenges. 

You slant your lips back and forth. You fight back a wave of hot frustration. You’re used to feeling powerless but he is suffocating. You nod. 

“Thank you, sir,” you choke out. 

“See, not that hard to be a good girl.” 

He waits until you move. You head back towards his car, and he gets in the driver side. As you claim the passenger seat, he huffs. He looks at you as you try not to acknowledge him. 

“Don’t like food in the car. Try not to get it all over,” he snarls. 

“I can--” 

“Just be careful,” he snips. 

Just be quiet, you tell yourself. You pull the seatbelt down and stare through the windshield. You lick around the cone as the cream threatens to melt onto your fingers. The car idles and you glance over. He watches your tongue as you lap up the trickle.  

You sit back as his eyes cling to your lips. He lifts his chin and turns straight. He grips the wheel and cranks the volume on the stereo. He speeds off and you struggle to keep from doing just what he warned you not to. You’d tell him to slow down but not only will he not listen, but the sooner you’re home, the better. 

[lakesbian]

The civilians… men and women in their finest clothes and jewelry. A combination of the richest and most powerful people in the city, their guests and those willing to pay the exorbitant prices for the tickets. The tickets started at two hundred and thirty dollars and had climbed steeply as they’d been bought up. We’d initially considered attending as guests, for one plan of attack, before we decided that it was too dangerous to risk having our secret identities caught on camera, or to have something go wrong as we attempted to smuggle our equipment, costumes and dogs inside.

how the FUCK has this fandom been around for over a decade without anyone deciding to draw the au where the undersiders go the kids cartoon villain route and get dressed up all fancy-style to sneak in. this happens in the teen titans styled imaginary adaptation of worm. i implore you all to consider the concept of taylor nervously wearing a dress lisa helped her pick out. brian laborn in a cute little suit with a skull pin on it (because cartoon logic). rachel lindt and her three dogs with matching bowties on (cartoon logic dictates this is an effective way to sneak them in) (the bowties match with her bowtie as well to be clear). alec wearing a kind of stupid, poofy costume he tears off to reveal his even stupider, poofier regent costume. can you imagine. the other alternative for alec is that he just wears his regent costume in and no one recognizes him, and then when he puts his coronet on the entire crowd suddenly goes "REGENT??" a la perry the platypus

[my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction]

Katsuki Bakugou x F!reader - smut oneshot about makin' babies

MDNI!

The last domestic post I made kinda got really popular, and I love that trope so much I thought I'd make another one! smut this time, though.

warnings: reader is afab and presents as female/feminine, Penetrative sex, breeding, reader is (or was) on birth control, a sprinkle of degradation, and lots and lots of cursing

smut starts at the *

______________________________________________________________

bang

the door to your shared home in the suburbs swung open, scary for most but completely normal, if not comforting for you. "Wifey! I'm home," Katsuki called out gruffly, removing his gauntlets, tossing his mask off, practically ripping off his shoes, and crashing onto the very expensive couch with his dirty, sooty hero suit. By the time you walked in, his arms were tucked behind his head, his eyes were closed, and his mouth was pushed into a scowl as he awaited his pampering.

He opened one eye, glancing at you before shutting it again. "Took you long enough," he grumbled, his way of saying he missed you dearly. "um, excuse me, but what are you doing on the couch in that," you asked, annoyance lacing your tone as you put your hands on your hips. You were wearing his old T-shirt from high school, black with a white skull in the center, along with underwear as bottoms.

"I'm tired, I've been savin' lives all day, Just lemme relax" he scoffed, not moving an inch. "You know you're the one cleaning that, right?" He rolled his eyes, sighing and sitting up. "I'd be cleanin' it anyway, you never do it right." He always did this, to the point that you suspect he liked cleaning.

"Where's my damn kiss already," he asked, more of an order, and looking up at you expectantly as he scowled. You smirked, taking the opportunity to gain a little extra power. "You can have it once you get off the couch and shower," you shrugged, walking off into the bedroom. You could hear him groan, but really it was a whine in disguise. A whine for big strong tough manly men, if you will.

after a moment of silence, you could hear his heavy stomping into the bedroom, a devilish grin on his face as he examined your place on your shared bed. "I'll only take a shower if you do it with me," he said pridefully, as if he cracked the horny husband code.

You laughed at his arrogant demeanor, looking up from your phone a moment and wanting to mess with him a little. "fine, but just so you know, I forgot to take my birth control last night." This was actually true, but mentioning it now made it so much funnier.

He paused, before cocking a brow and sauntering over to stand above you. "So what," He said boldly, that grin persisting. You raised your brows, an amused smile on your face as your attention was kept mainly on your phone. "So...I'm off my birth control? We can't do anything penetrative, unless you want a mini-Katsuki running around."

He rolled his eyes, leaning down to you with his hands on his hips. "What's so wrong about that, hah? I'm great." Now your attention was all the way on him, trying to gauge if he was joking or not. "Katsuki, you really need to think about the words that come out of your mouth." Now we were in serious territory, "Katsuki" was reserved for seriousness.

He huffed, clearly running out of patience. "You thick or somethin'?" You rolled your eyes, maybe you were if you couldn't grasp what exactly he was trying to get at. "If we did that, I'd probably get pregnant," you sighed, talking as if you were explaining things to a toddler. "No shit, idiot. I've been wanting you pregnant since we got married, anyways."

Ok, now you had to put your phone down completely. You just stared at him for a moment, like a deer in the headlights, processing. "W- uh...why haven't you told me?" Having kids was something you both agreed on doing, but the when and where was never discussed.

"Didn't think it was that important until now..." he grumbled, looking askance as his cheeks pinked. He didn't think you'd say yes until now. You studied him for a moment, weighing your options, before smiling and giggling a little. "you know what? why the hell not." He seemed to light up, his smile returning as he yanked you up and out of bed.

*

"Well come on dumbass, we have a baby to make," he chuckled, practically on cloud 9. It made you smile, seeing your grumpy husband so happy, albeit his smile looks down right dastardly. He pulled you to the bathroom, switching on the water and taking his clothes off as fast as possible. You did the same, rather excited yourself given the circumstances, and before you knew it you had your back pressed to the shower wall.

He was holding you up by your hips, and currently shifting your legs to be on his broad, scarred shoulders. His member was just an inch or two before you, the tip oozing semen as he situated the two of you. His lips were right next to your ear, and he seemed to be bending you with the intent of snapping you in half.

"You better be fuckin' ready, 'cause I'm not stopping if you cry," He purred, his voice deep and husky. he was technically being honest, because no, he wouldn't stop if you cried, but if you showed even the tiniest bit of true fear he'd stop even if he was a millisecond away from climax.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, steadying yourself before glancing down at his rock hard cock. You've been married for what, 3 years? Yet you still can't help but tremble at the sight, at the idea that he would be inside you, this time with the intent of impregnating you.

"Good," you giggled back seductively, making him chuckle. "Better pray you keep that confidence," he taunted, before pressing you as hard against the wall as possible. He snaked a muscled arm around your waist, the other reaching down to guide himself to your dripping cunt. You squirmed a little, the anticipation getting to you, and he pinched your side harshly. "Hold the fuck still," he growled, giving you a sharp stare.

He waited a second or two after you settled, making sure you stayed that way, before continuing. The head of his weeping cock entered the beginnings of your vagina, you flesh gripping his in a way that elicited a grunt from him. He kept pushing through, inch by inch, until he got tired of waiting and shoved the last couple inches in with one hard thrust. You moaned out, the freshly manicured nails he paid for pressing into the skin of his shoulders.

He waited a moment, allowing you to get comfortable while trying to mask his panting from how good you felt, before slowly pulling back out and shoving it back in. The sounds you made, from your mouth and anywhere else, drove him to the brink of his patience. He began pistoning in and out of you, huffing and puffing and groaning as he gazed upon your current state. Moaning at every thrust, Hair messy from being wet and dragging across the shower wall, eyes having a distant and glossy look as he wrecked you. He buried his face in your neck, giving sloppy kisses to you skin, partly to muffle how absolutely drunk off your cunt he sounded.

He pulled away from your neck but never halted the wreckless movement of his hips, smirking down at you menacingly as he panted and groaned. "Hah...You gonna fuckin' cum, baby? Gonna cum on my...hngh...cock like a good little slut?" Dirty talk was his specialty, something he took pride in. He loved how it made you clench around him, just as you were doing now.

"Mmh....holy shit," He muttered, Mouth pressed to your ear. "Gonna fill you with my kids, so you better not let any drip out." He said it as if it were a threat, and he began to speed up even more as he gripped your sides, his tip giving sloppy kisses to your cervix with each ministration. The shower wall made a hollow pounding sound, accompanied by the squelching of your rough sex, his groans and mindless rambling, and your squeals and moaning.

"Katsuki! You better not fucking stop," you moaned, brows knit together in concentration. He was hitting every spot just right, and your hips rolled against his. Just thinking about his cum, about him filling you with life, it put you on the edge. Suddenly, the tight knot in your core snapped, and you found yourself having one of the best orgasms of your life on your husband's cock. The sounds you made, your blissed out face, everything made him feel stupidly hot.

"Fuck...Fuck, fuck fuck!" His face buried back into your neck, biting the skin to muffle his loud, guttural moaning. He gripped your hips so hard his nails made indents in your skin, his own hips stuttering to a stop as he held you down on him. You could feel him burst within you, ribbons of hot white cum coating your insides. Slowly he came down from his high, panting and whimpering just a little. He felt how limp your body was in his arms, and immediately felt the need to take care of you.

Without disturbing your current position, he leaned over and shut the water off. Gently and slowly, he began to pull out, his cock now limp after doing it's job. He shifted you to be carried bridal style, not bothering with a towel as he took you out of the bathroom and to the bedroom. "Kat..." You mumbled, laughter in your throat at how careful he was being. This was hardly the roughest sex you've had with him, yet he was treating you like glass.

"What," he grumbled, laying you on the bed. For a moment, just one little moment, he watched as his cum oozed out of you. It was hot, way too hot. "It's not like I'm made of porcelain," You giggled, sitting up on your elbows. He quickly rolled his eyes and shoved two fingers into you, causing you to squeal. "Kat," you cried, a moan falling from your lips. "What? gotta keep as much of it in there as possible." He pulled his fingers back out with all the care he could muster, before quickly grabbing some clean panties and sliding them on you. You might have believed that was the only reason, but the way he curled his fingers up just right said otherwise.

"The bed's gonna be wet, we have to dry off," you sighed, moving to get up. He quickly scooped you up and set you down so your head was on the pillow, getting in with you and snuggling up behind you. "Who gives a shit," he grumbled, nuzzling into your neck as he pulled the comforter up to his shoulders. "I'm gonna be a dad," he whispered, pulling you into him and resting both hands on your lower abdomen.

______________________________________________________________

Hey, You know how I said I loved the domestic crap? yep, still do. Hope you enjoyed this as much as I did, and as always, don't be afraid to comment! fr if you comment we're literally married now, ily.

[alyakthedorklord]

Agent D to watchtower

(Fic)

Flash And Green Lantern, bored, stuck on monitor duty at the watchtower, cheerfully badmouthing batman together when a notification rings through the room.

Hal snaps to attention, because notifications on monitor duty don’t usually mean good things, but at least they’re things.

Oh holy crap that’s Batman’s caller ID.

Green Lantern and the Flash do NOT scramble like kids caught staying up badmouthing a parent at a sleepover, sending chips and cookies flying. They are professional world savers. Incredibly powerful men. Yep.

“Batman!” The Flash squeaks. “Whats- uh. Whats the situation?”

Whatever it is has to be dire. Batman never calls for help, ever. So it has to be a really big problem. Unless he’s spying on them. And is about to growl at them for talking behind his back.

The line is silent for a few moments, just long enough for Hal and Flash to trade terrified looks, and then…

“This is Agent D, reporting in.”

That voice is not Batman.

It’s not Batman’s deep, growly baritone. It’s slightly accented, boyish and light, despite the serious tone to it as whoever the voice belongs to whispers into the communicator.

Too young. Far too young. Thats a kid.

Hal checks the ID- yep, this is Batman’s communicator. How on earth does this kid have it?

“Uh… nice to meet you, Agent D. Can you tell me what’s going on? How are you calling us right now?”

“I’m deep in enemy territory.” The kid whispers, which isn’t really an answer but definitely catches Hal’s attention. The kid is whispering like he’s scared someone- or something- will hear him. “The darkness is endless. Any and all sound travels here- it’s a massive echo chamber. This is his territory. I’m not sure if I’ll make it out of these caves- if he hears me, I’m done for.”

“Whoa, whoa, hang on.” Hal says quickly, eyes wide as he stares at the indicator on the screen. “What’s going on? Where are you? Do you need help?”

“Negative on the extraction.” What the hell? Who is this kid? Who taught him to talk like that? “It’s too late for me. But I have urgent info the Justice League needs to hear!”

Hal and Flash exchange a concerned look. The kid knows he’s got a Justice League communicator. It isn’t just some random thing he’s picked up.

“We’re all ears, kid.” Flash says.

“Alright,” the kid says seriously, taking a breath like he’s bracing himself for the words he’s about to say, Hal and Flash leaning closer to the monitor as they wait for whatever he has to say. “Batman…”

“…is a butthead.”

Hal stares at the monitor.

Flash stares at the monitor.

“…what?”

“Batman is a butthead.” The kid repeats. “A stinky butthead. He’s mean and old and dumb and a big butt.”

Is there something in his ears? Is there something in the Doritos making him hallucinate? Did a kid really steal Batman’s Justice League Communicator to call him a butthead?

“He’s such a big butthead, we should call him Buttman instead of Batman.” The kid is saying, glee seeping into his serious tone. “There goes Buttman, in the Buttmobile.”

“These are-” Hal begins, then has to stop to let out a laugh or else he won’t be able to maintain a serious voice for the game they’re apparently playing. Flash has his hands pressed over his mouth, shaking. “These are serious claims, Agent D. Do you have any proof?”

“Yes!” Agent D announces. “He makes me wear PANTS and do GRAMMAR! And! And last Wednesday he wouldn’t let me have dessert, and he won’t take me on patrol with him, and! He was mean to Agent A! Even though Agent A is just worried about him because he got hit on the head and got a concussion because he doesn’t have a skull to protect his brain and his head is all squishy like a Butt!”

Hal is nearly crying with the effort it takes to hold in his laughter, clutching onto the desk for support. Thankfully, the Flash has recovered enough to play along with a shocked gasp.

“Is that why he wears that Armored Cowl?” He asks Agent D. “To protect his squishy head?”

“Yes.” The kid insists, voice dripping with vicious glee. “I saw him take it off once and he doesn’t have any hair. He’s wearing underpants on his butt head.”

“Is it… is it special underwear? Or just normal?” Flash asks, grinning madly and shaking as well. “He doesn’t have legs on his head to wear it right, so-”

“The ears on his cowl are the legs.” The kid says immediately.

That mental image is enough to bring Flash down to the floor beside Hal, cackling madly. They get ahold of themselves, swallowing down their laughter to get back to the kid, but then they lock eyes, setting them off all over again as Agent D’s giggles echo through the comm line above them.

“I can’t- oh god, I can’t breathe.” Hal gasps, clutching at his chest. “Fu- um, gosh, I needed that.”

“I’m never going to be able to look him in the eye again.” Flash wheezes. “That’s an image that’s going to stay with me forever.”

“Good. Memorize it: this information will not be repeated.” The kid says seriously, deepening his voice in what is clearly meant to imitate Batman. Flash cackles again.

“In all seriousness, kid.” Hal says, crawling his way up to the desk to stare in bewilderment at Batman’s caller ID. “Where did you get this communicator? It’s meant to be a secure line. Emergencies.”

“Well,” Agent D says, voice lightening out of his Batman imitation and into a tone of sweet, angelic innocence, “he shouldn’t have left it out in the open then.”

“I didn’t.”

Both Hal and the Flash freeze, hearts stopping in their chests at the familiar angry growl.

Batman.

“Uh oh.” Agent D mutters.

The next thing they hear is the flurry of motion- the thump of the communicator being jughled, the scraping of cloth and shoe on stone, the whoosh of the communicator being swung through the air, and the patter of feet running full tilt.

“ROBIN!” Batman’s voice shouts, the only response a cackle of young laughter.

“Run, little man!” The Flash urges, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Go go go!”

“It’s too late!” Agent D shrieks. “It’s too late! The Buttman is coming! Remember me! I sacrificed myself for the greater good! Like the spies who got the death star plans! Remember me!”

“It’s not over yet!” Hal cheers, even if he knows theres no escaping Batman. “Evasive maneuvers! Keep going!”

“YOU’LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE!” Agent D bellows, but a moment later the sound of running is cut off with two grunts, one much deeper than the other, and the sound of a scuffle.

Scrabbling and slapping of little kid hands on kevlar armor can be heard between thumps of the microphone hitting something. Finally, the sound settles, enough for Hal and Flash to hear Batman mutter, “you sure about that?” as Agent D groans dramatically.

A moment later, Batman’s voice comes over the communicator clearly for the first time.

“Batman to Watchtower.” he says, voice flat and businesslike as ever despite the kid gighling madly in the background. “Comms have been compromised.”

“We noticed.” Hal smirks. And Batman was the first to let the secure line get infiltrated! He’s never letting him live this down.

“The perpetrator has been apprehended, and will be punished accordingly.”

“Aww, no, Batman, come on.” Flash wheedles on behalf of his new buddy. Hal is kind of worried too- Batman won’t be too hard on the kid, will he? “Agent D was just having some fun!”

“Yeah, don’t be a butthead!” Agent D shouts, before giggling again.

“You know you’re not supposed to be down here alone.” Batman grumbles. “This is probably one of the safer things you could have picked up. And it can send a distress signal that can summon the entire justice league. What would you have done if Superman decided to smash his way through the cave?”

“I know how to use it!” Agent D complains. “I’m not stupid! I’m good with technology, and you showed me how in case of emergencies!”

“And this was an emergency?”

“A boredom emergency.” Oh god, Agent D is sassing Batman.

“Seriously, Spooky.” Hal interrupts, because he’s actually a little worried for Agent D, “whats his sentence?”

Batman huffs, and then there’s a grunt and a small oof like he’s readjusting his grip on Agent D. “Considering this isn’t his first offense of the night…”

“I’ve done nothing! I’m innocent! I want a lawyer!” The sounds of struggling come through the communicator, but Hal doesn’t think it’s working very well. The kid is trying to escape Batman, after all. “You’re always saying we can’t be judge, jury, and executioner! Put your money where your mouth is! I want a lawyer!”

“Alright.” Batman hums, much to Hal’s shock. Is he really playing along with the kid? “Green Lantern. I’m promoting you to Lawyer. Answer my next question carefully.”

Still a little shocked, all Hal can say is, “um… okay?”

“What is twenty-four minus twenty-four?”

Hal frowns. That doesn’t sound like a lawyer question. “Excuse me?”

“Twenty-four minus twenty-four.” Batman repeats.

“Uh… zero?” Why does Batman need him to say this? Doesn’t he know math? Can’t he whip a calculator off that belt of his? It wouldn’t surprise Hal in the slightest. Hardly the weirdest thing Batman’s got on there.

“Lets add some words to that problem.” Batman growls. “If I had twenty-four cookies before someone was left unsupervised in the kitchen, and none after… then how many cookies are currently rallying for a stomachache against Agent D?”

Hal won’t lie. That’s impressive. The kid doesn’t sound grown enough to have a big stomach. “Twenty-four.”

“No!” Agent D shrieks. “No!”

“Sounds like an admission of guilt from your lawyer.” Batman growls. Oops. Hal forgot that was his job! He should have dodged the question!

“No! Leading the witness! Your question was a trick!” Agent D shouts, in an impressive show of melodramatics. “I want a better lawyer! This one sucks! I bet this guy didn’t even go to law school! Also, he wasn’t given all the relevant evidence or time to prepare his arguments! ALSO also he was appointed by the opposition! Rigged jury! I want a retrial!”

How old is this kid?

“Nope, too late. Welcome to Gotham, chum.” Batman huffs. “Now then, stealing a Justice League Communicator, eating all of the cookies, which were meant for both of us and I was very much looking forwards to, and calling me… Buttman.”

He growls the last word, and Hal watches Flashes fist teleport to his mouth to hold in the bark of laughter threatening to escape. The serious way he said that stupid name… even Agent D has stopped his dramatics in the face of the court to cackle!

“Don’t laugh.” Batman growls, in exactly the same tone that made them laugh in the first place. “I am deciding your punishment.”

“You can’t do anything!” Agent D jeers. “I already told the Justice League that you were actually a Butthead! I’ve eaten all the cookies! All twenty-four tasty, tasty cookies and you can’t have any! I’ve won! There’s nothing you can do! You’ll never get your cookies back!”

“Is that so?” Batman hums, and if Hal didn’t know better, he might think Spooky was smiling. “Well then. I guess I’ll have to tickle you until you toss your cookies.”

“Wait- no!” The kid shrieks, and then the communicator breaks off into peals of desperate, full bellied laughter, interspaced with pleas for mercy and one final, deep voiced line.

“Batman, out.”

The comm channel is cut, leaving the Watchtower’s occupants in an echoing, shocked silence.

Tickles? TICKLES? Batman, the hardass of the Justice League, the no-nonsense, work no play, spooky scary bastard… left his communicator where a kid could get it. A kid who stole all of Batman’s cookies. Who Batman retaliated against for stealing his cookies with tickles.

And his voice had been… not non-growly, but lighter than Hal has ever heard it. Ever. The kid had seemed completely at ease with him, mocking him, grumbling about homework and treats. It was almost as if…

“Oh my god Batman is a dad.” Hal whispers into the silent room, eyes wide. “This is the greatest thing to happen to me ever. I’m so glad I decided to stay to keep you company.”

“So am i, so you can tell me later i didn’t hallucinate that.” Flash says fervently. “He’s a dad. He’s a dad to the giggliest kid I have ever heard in my life.”

“He punished his kid with TICKLES.” Hal wheezes. “His kid calls him a butthead for making him do homework- oh my GOD. His kid grabbed a JUSTICE LEAGUE COMMUNICATOR- he knew exactly what that thing was!”

“Came on the line like a proper secret agent!” F agrees, vibrating. “Oh my god, please tell me we have that saved. Do we have that saved?”

“Quick- before spooky deletes it!”

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Thinking about Succubus!Reader who appears in Ghost's room a few hours before dawn 🫦

You always get summoned to the loneliest individuals among mortal men, and never meet the same male twice (otherwise they would know it wasn't, in fact, simply a wet dream)

But this male is not like the others…

He's wearing a mask in his sleep, and the skull reminds you of the familiar horrors you sometimes see on your plane. He is both scary and inviting, truly a sight for sore eyes, strong and burly, sleeps naked, like lonely men almost always do. He's already hard, and stirring in his sleep – it doesn't matter that he's fully awake because he will think it's only another dream when he wakes up.

This man doesn't say anything as you climb on top of him, only welcomes you by grabbing your hips with hard, demanding hands. He adores you openly with his stare as if you're some rare treat that dropped in his lap and he's not going to ruin his luck by asking questions.

His cock is broad and blunt, just like the rest of him. Due to your powers you can feel his loneliness and pain, the depth of hollow sorrow inside him. He's like a dried well, waiting for a summer rain that never comes.

But when you take him inside and start to ride him, you can feel something else: a wave of hope, even a flicker of mirth. It's like a drop of warm milk in a pool of a dark, murky pond.

You know you have the power to bring brief moments of happiness to these mortals through copulation. You're a dream, a fantasy, a connection deeper than years of any dedicated bond, but the emotion inside this man swells to such painful heights that it causes you to cry out in pleasure and pain.

He grips you harder as you ride him through the waves of ecstasy, the strong hips under you buck up as he tries to get deeper inside the sanctuary only you can provide. You're used to taking men, riding them until they beg under you, but this time, you have to take support of his broad chest.

This man in a skull mask takes you – and you succumb to his lead like a supple young demon, watching how the plates of his chest tense with exertion under your palms. The dark eyes hold you captive like he's the demon here.

He gifts his seed with a deep, anguished roar; it erupts from under the skull and sends ripples across your scalp, and even if you don't possess the gift of reading minds, you can almost hear this mortal's thoughts: fucking hell you feel good, so tight and wet around him, soft and bloody sweet there on top if him, giving him the night of his life…

He holds you after as you lie on top of his strong body, limp and soft and purring. His pain is diluted now, the warm milk spreads inside the pond, and you feel the thick, calloused pads of his fingers caress your spine and neck. You breathe in sync like you've always belonged together, here, just like this.

Dawn is upon you, and the laws of this world and yours demand that you go back. You never tell the males that you're about to leave: it would be useless to listen to their pleas. But this time, you feel the desperate need to explain yourself, or at least say something and not just vanish like it was all just a dream.

"I have to go," you whisper in his language – you haven't talked in ages and are surprised at how smooth your voice sounds; like warm, soothing music.

His grip on you tightens, and you feel a fleeting sadness and despair, far deeper than any words can convey.

"Stay for a bit," he asks; his voice is deep, gravelly, almost like a soft command. You know without tapping into his emotions that you're the first being this man has ever asked to stay.

He's already torn between dream and waking, senses that you're far more real than he originally thought. It's dangerous – you've never, ever stayed this long. No one has ever held you like this after copulating.

You reach to brush your fingertips over the skull, tracing the bone and wishing you could touch his real face. It's also a spell that slowly sends him back to sleep and releases him from your illusion; the woman who slowly dissolves until his arms embrace nothing, until he will wake up holding only himself.

"Don't... go..." is the last thing you hear before he falls asleep, and you fall a thousand miles back to where you came from.

Back on your plane, you feel the first tear in centuries escape the corner of your eye. Your prayer, however, is the first one ever as you beg, beg for anyone who can hear you, to send you back to him, just one more time…

But who would hear the prayers of succubi?

[deadpool15]

Million Dollar Baby- Pt1

Aerin Creer shall be the OC for this fic. It will be in parts.

The outfit that she is wearing will always be in the pic above. the character is 23 years old, while Byeon is about 25.

All repressive characters will be the same as before.

So, you guys won her powers, which will be telekinesis

There will be russian in the story and maybe even korean, but I will limit it to little things.

I'm using a translator, so I'm sorry if it's incorrect

Age 9

"You all need to realize there are privileges in this world, and eating is one of them. So, hit harder, or you will starve." A man yells over all the chaos of the fighting children. I never learned their names except Alexi. My torment and pain were caused by him. Though, my entire existence was purely for kicks. Apparently, my overly obsessed mother believed she could create the perfect child for her husband or, more so, my father. He was a powerful man in a country where the only law to exist was his own. Some say he was the devil himself, but all my mother saw was the love of her life. Drugging herself with experiments and foreign concoctions to make the perfect soldier. She died during childbirth, or that's what I like to think. My mother died that night, and some women took care of me for 4 years. Eventually, she had a deal with some goons, taking money she couldn't afford. And in turn, they took her child.

A living nightmare, one way to describe my current situation. We are trained day in and out to be the obedient warriors that will be the next generation for Pavel. It's where I met Ryu Shi-oh or he met me. "Get up and fight. Or your a worthless fucking nobody and we aren't investing time in that bullshit." Alexi screamed at me, after being hit so many times I couldn't get back up. Everything hurt. They had gathered us all around to fight as a presentation to the leaders. Alexi told me if I embarrassed him, he would beat rhe shit out of me. What else was new, though? "Get up right fucking now!" I stared at the ground before something clicked inside of me. It's like I didn't give a single fuck about the outcome. "Shut the fuck up." I stared up at him as if looks could kill hoping he would explode right there before my eyes. All the children turned around, shocked, while stopping. Alexi laughs out loud before shoving me. "Get your fucking hands off me you little dick asshole!" I yelled at him. For the first time in my life I yelled. I was fighting back. Usually, I'm pretty sure he would love this, but since he had thr higher ups here, he was beyond pissed.

I could see Shi-oh in the corner of the room, motioning for me to stop. But this time, I wasn't backing down. Before I could think he punched me. Rocking my body all the way down to the floor. "The fuck did you say, say it again bitch. Go on, I dare you. I'll fucking chop you into pieces and feed you to rhe dogs!" The old me would've sat there in tears, fearing for my life. The silent room was shaken by my loud, obnoxious laugh. If there was one thing I had learned in my lifetime, men wouldn't like to be challenged. He stormed over to me and punched me yet again. Then, I started to kick me in the stop over and over again. Though, I kept laughing, refusing to give him the satisfaction. My ribs were sore, some probably broken before I grew tired of it. I started to cry while laughing, I'm pretty sure I looked like a manic to everyone in the room.

I started yelling stop, I just wanted in to be over. I was done with the pain and suffering. But he kept going, like always no one ever listened to me. Before he reaches to kick me again, a force pushes him back, clasing into the wall. A crack had been heard, and anyone could tell his skull had been split open. Though, he wasn't dead yet, no, not quite. I continue to laugh as everyone backs away from me, I see the higher ups standing from their chairs in amazement and slight fear. I push myself up off the grown and see Alexi. He looked like shit, maybe even worse than me. I turn to look at my broken finger and move to crack it back in place before it does it on its own. I hear whimpering, I turn to the crushed in wall. "Are you fucking crying, you have to be fucking with me right now." I laugh out loud holding my bruised ribs while staring at him. "H-help me." It looked like its body had been piered into the wall, I saw some of his insides. I went to turn until I realized he wasn't going to shut up. The constant whining from the man who loves man. How ironic.

I had no idea what was going on, yet for some reason, my body felt like it was on fire. Everything was so loud. My skin felt itchy, and my head was pounding. My senses felt hyper, and I was overwhelmed by everything around me. What the fuck was happening? "Be quiet....Be quiet." I just wanted it to stop. His cries felt like they were drilling into my skull. Yet he wouldn't stop. I didn't even realize I had thrown my hands up in rhe sir to cover my ears before I screamed out, "MAKE IT STOP!" The lights shattered to the floors, and some of the children dropped dead, with their eyes, nose, and ears leaking blood. Brain particles were scattered across the floor. Alexi was dropped from the wall, yet his head was still inside of the wall. Decapitated completely from his body with pieces of his spinal cord attached to it. I was so exhausted. I only remember myself falling to the ground while seeing Shi-oh running in my direction, screaming.

The Pavel leaders stood up immediately at the sight of everything around them. Some were in complete distress while seeing the future soldiers laying across the floor dead. Yet, the man in charge was only thinking one thing. Magnificent. He couldn't believe his eyes. That child had killed approximately 10 people in a room with so much as moving a muscle or a weapon near. He was used to good fighters, but this was a whole new level. She was the future, and seeing Shi-oh walk right up to her and help was just simply the best. The young boy whole showed promise faithfully in love with the girl who had mysterious abilities all in his hands. Seems everything would work out. "My precious дети." Oo, did he have plans for them. They would take everything, their futures were so bright. He would make sure they stayed on the path.

Present time

I stepped out of my car, grabbing my cat. All gifts from a certain someone whom I was visiting. Noticing a black jeep trying to be secretive, yet I paid no mind to it. Making my way inside of the building. Needing no introduction considering everyone knows who I am. Or just my status, one would say. "He is right in his office ma'am though he is busy with a worker." His secretary tells me while looking around nervously. "Never too busy for me, though, right?" He just nods and leads me to the door. We make it there with him trying to knock before I feel like this is all taking too long and pushing the door open. I hear him telling me to wait a moment, but it falls to deaf ears. I walked in, noticing now while he wanted me to wait. A girl around my height is sitting down, talking to Shi-oh. They haven't noticed me yet, so I sat there and waited in silence until she passed him her phone and he put his number in. Eventually, she leaves while she notices my presence and smiles at me while saying hi. I give her a fake smile and walk father in the room.

"The fuck was that, huh?" He turns around finally seeing me. Walking over and hugging while lifting me off the ground. Still holding me the air, which is easy due to our size difference. "My beautiful лепесток. What are you doing here?" I stared at him. He always had a habit of making it difficult to angry at him. "I was coming to see you." I motion for him to lower me down, and I sit my cat on the floor. Watching it walk around the office, I get startled again when he picks me up and sits down in his chair at his desk with me on his lap. "Before you get ready to hurt me, I was simply recruiting her to a higher position." I poke my finger deeply into his chest. "Why you wanna fuck her?" He slowly looks up, as if he is thinking about the question. While he is doing that, the objects start to lift around the room, and he takes notice. "No,I don't want to fuck her or anything like that. But she is strong, very strong. I've seen it first hand лепесток. She will be uselful." I simply smile at him before I peck his lips.

Moving closer on his lap, I start to slowly kiss his lips again. Getting lost in the plump lips I love so much. Before he reaches my face to take my shades off. He lowers his hands and grips my hips. "You are so fucking beautiful, baby. Why the fuck would I want her when I have all this." I start to grind on his lap, while the desk moves backward. Needing more room. "And don't you forget it. Gonna change the world, baby."

I'll post every Saturday for this story.

Taglist: @seonghwaexile

[fishyvamp]

The Trapper disappeared in 1935. World War 2 happened in 1939. So.

S/O: The first world war-

Trapper: What do you mean the first

S/O: ... 😦

Trapper: What do you mean the first

Oh my god he doesn't even know about nukes

Like how would u even explain that to them man

In one of the newer tomes there is a journal entry in which talks about Evan Macmillan serving in "The Great War" he was on the front lines and was known for crossing no man's land while wearing a bone mask made from human skull. Is it the same Trapper? I don't know, especially since the multiverse exists in DBD. Anyways have a written drabble.

"you mean the great war right? Right?!" Trapper asks recalling how bloody the first was. The death and destruction that had followed everyone there. The earth marred forever changed in many places. He can't get the screams out of his head as he watched men who took too long to put on their gas masks. That was the war to end all wars, that's what they told everyone.

You shook your head, "yes, but we call it world war 1, world war 2 popped off in 1939 after Germany invaded Poland." Trapper rose to his feet angrily pacing back and forth, "Damn krauts couldn't keep their filthy paws off of things for 5 minutes." After mumbling some other offense old timey sentiments regarding the German people he calms down and looks at you, "Pray tell my darling dear, how did that particular war end?"

His face going pale as you explain the hydrogen bomb and how entire populations were eradicated in seconds and all done via delivery of planes something was just getting commercialized when the fog took him. "And here I thought the prohibition would be the worst thing to happen after the war."

He's just sits down and puts you in his lap, feeling upset that victory wasn't actually victory after the war and how damaging it must of been. All those wars you mentioned, ones you weren't sure about the details on, they happen so frequently now it's hard for you to remember what's happening when unless you're actively keeping track. He needs to feel your weight on him, "human nature." He just scoffed nuzzling into you needing a moment to digest it all. Too many men in power are too much like his father, he shouldn't have ever expected less.