#still not over the fact that they made his eyes a damn pun

[dawnbreakersgaze]

Why he so cute thooooo 🥺😩

[ghostbsuter]

This is the fourth time damian brought the college student over.

Damian, despite being 14, has been accepted to a gifted school as he had already been taught in the most subjects one usually learns at a slower pace.

(He still gets a headache over the fact his son won't get a normal childhood.)

Which is how he befriended the 17 year old Daniel, an overworked and sleepdeprived college student, getting dragged along and following with no complaint.

Bruce is, even if he wanted damian to befriend someone more around his own age, very welcoming of the student.

Alfred made sure the boy took enough food with him home, always leaving the mansion at point 4 pm.

It really shouldn't have been surprising when Bruce Wayne, yes, THE Brucie Wayne, summoned him to his office.

Danny entered the room fidgeting, giving a nervous smile to the man behind the desk and questioning what he did wrong to offend the patriarch of the family.

(Lies and slander, we, the readers, are fully aware that Alfred is the patriarch.)

"Uh— hi, Mr. Wayne." He sat when gestured to the chair, shitting bricks with how nervous he's.

The man nods in greeting, smiling. "Hello Danny–"

"Please don't kill me!" The teen in question blurts out, flushing in embarrassment once registered.

Taken aback and startled, Bruce snorts, stifling laughter by putting a hand against his mouth.

Shit.

"I don't know what I did! Very sorry if I offended someone!" He rambles, panicking and waving his hands around.

"Danny—"

"I must have done something! Why else would you call me? Oh god– I'm gonna be murdered by THE Brucie Wayne!"

At this point, the rich guy in front of him is barely restraining himself from laughing, trying his best to stay professional.

"Danny–! I- I won't murder you." He reassured, eyes crinkling from smiling.

"But–" he sniffs, both embarrassed and teary.

"I'm not gonna— danny." Bruce sighs, which sounds a lot like a choke, really. "Look, I just wanted a 1-on-1 talk with you about your friendship with damian and some concerns."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh."

Danny sighs in relief at this. "I can do some good old interrogation–" "it's not an interrogation–" "totally interrogation."

He huffs lightly, getting comfortable in his chair and preparing himself mentally.

"Alright Mr. Wayne! Shoot me!"

(Was that a pun? A joke to murder? Really?)

The man clears his throat, straightens his back and looks serious as he was before the accusations of murder.

"What are your intentions with damian and why become friends in the first place?"

Blinking, the teen brightens. "Oh, that's easy! Damian needs a friend. We just kinda clicked after I scared away a few pesky bullies."

Then he shrugs. "Besides, it's great training."

"Training?" Bruce asks, curious, tone light in the way that shows he's very interested.

"Yes. Despite his badly hidden murderous tendencies, love for knives, and slight lack of slang language and knowledge, he's still a kid." He nods.

"A young teen that goes through teen stuff that I barely remember going through and now get to relearn will be handy once Ellie becomes a teenager herself."

Batman was filing the information away, but Bruce kept going.

"Ellie?" He questions.

"My daughter– has damian not mentioned her? We always leave around 4 to get her from my sister. Sometimes, dami stays over for a few hours!"

Ah. Well. Seems like Alfred will have to make more food for the teen now.

"Would you like to stay for dinner today?" He asks, "Bring your daughter too. We won't mind you joining us." smiling and already planning for the new adjustments to make.

"On another note, what are your and your daughters preferences? Any allergies?"

Danny didn't even agree yet, not that he was gonna— mind you.

"No allergies, soft foods only, easy to eat." He answers, listing the stuff from the top of his head.

In a whirlwind of– of planning dinner?? Danny is out of the door and wide eyed.

"What just happened?"

(On the other side, Bruce face-palms, having forgotten to ask what age Ellie is. Damn in Bruce.)

—

On the fifth visit, Danny stayed for dinner.

Damian must know the age, for there are bowls with freshly cut fruits, yoghurt, and rice mixed with veggies and chicken.

On that note, where is damian?

Dick meets his eyes, asking the same quetsion with a look.

Just as Bruce was gonna ask, the door opened, and the cutest picture to ever exist was created.

(Dick RIPPED his phone out of his pocket, swiping a picture of the scene as fast as possible.)

Steph can't hold back the coos at the sight of Damian walking with a toddler into the dining room, her tiny feet propped up on his and in hand together.

She's wearing a Robin onesie and he is wearing his (stolen) Nightwing hoodie.

"Sorry, hope we aren't late!" Danny waves with a grin from behind the pair.

"You aren't, just perfect, in fact." Bruce reassures, waving the teens over to the free seats.

Damian leads the two to his seat, making sure they're next to him.

The conversation during dinner is one spoken fondly, Cass likes to make Ellie laugh with silly faces, Duke and Steph "secretly" feed her tiny pieces of strawberry and Dick is in a rather passionate discussion with both Tim and Danny.

Damian, once he makes sure no one is watching him, wipes the mess from Ellies face.

(Bruce was watching, looking away once damians face snapped to him. He wasn't aware his youngest had such a soft spot for toddlers.)

(It takes a while, but Danny and Ellie become family like every other person, while having not slept over yet, Alfred already has prepared a room for the two in the Family wing.)

(It's barely a week after that everyone bought and gifted him onesie's of their hero personas, with the excuse of them being the gotham vigilantes when questioned. After all, the Robin can't be a one man team.)

—

The Nightwing and his Robin.

[redvexillum]

Well, this was just asking for a companion piece to my other two story C☆CKWARMING and ROUGH S☆X, so thank you for that. I dedicate this story to @kewpikayo. Listen, I dedicated yesterday's story to your wife, it only makes sense this story should be dedicated to you - after all, Dew & Kew FOREVER! 💖

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, human!alastor, alastor is dom, reader is sub, pain kink, reader is masochistic, alastor is sadistic, bad BDSM etiquette, no safe word, no after care, blood play, biting, spanking, rough ☆ral s☆x, p in v, c☆m outside, c☆m eating, implied period-typical racism

✨️ Companion piece to C☆CKWARMING and ROUGH S☆X. This story is the origin of where it all started. ✨️

A low, irritated growl simmered in Alastor’s throat as he watched you—Daddy’s sheltered little girl—stumble back, arms flailing as the load you carried slipped from your grip. You landed unceremoniously on the ground, the papers and boxes you’d been carrying spilling around you like fallen leaves. The sight was exasperating, yet all too familiar; he wasn’t sure whether to sigh, sneer, or simply walk away. 

Instead, he felt his left eye twitch as he forced his grin wider, an increasingly tight smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Each muscle in his face strained against his better judgment, but he bent down, begrudgingly extending a hand to help you up. 

And there it was: the way your cheeks bloomed crimson as you looked up at him, hesitantly taking his hand as if touching him was some kind of privilege. 

Under normal circumstances, he would have thrived on this—the adoration, the bashful flush, the clear admiration in your eyes that so many others had shown him. The mere idea of having another fan should’ve filled him with smug satisfaction. But not this time. 

No, there was one pesky fact that dulled the thrill. 

From the beginning, breaking into the radio world had been an uphill battle. The station was his dream, and to make it a reality, he’d had to secure an investor. But with his humble roots, Alastor had needed more than a charming smile; he needed money, power, and someone with influence willing to back a stranger like him. And so he’d found himself entangled with a wealthy patron—a man who agreed to fund him… under one condition. 

He had to hire you.

You. 

His patron’s clumsy, insipid little daughter, the perpetual thorn in his side. Each time he thought he’d seen every mistake a person could make, you’d invent a new one, blundering through tasks with astonishing incompetence. His nerves frayed more with every passing day as he forced himself to breathe, to smile, to tell you gently that "everyone makes mistakes." The words tasted like rot in his mouth. 

Alastor considered himself a patient man. A forgiving man. But everyone has their limits. 

And you, quite simply, were his. 

He took a slow, seething breath, plotting as he felt the spark of a plan take root. If he could get you to quit on your own, perhaps he could still keep the funding—maybe, if he played his cards right, he could even sway your father to his side without the added irritation of watching you trip over your damn feet every three steps. 

So he began to freeze you out. Day after day, he kept his distance, watching from the corner of his eye as you struggled on, hoping his chilly demeanour would drive you away. But you were far too talkative, your relentless cheer slipping through the cracks of his carefully crafted mask. Every time he steeled himself to ignore you, there you were, talking at length about how much you loved his show, how much his puns and wordplay made you laugh, how his humour lifted your spirits. 

The way your eyes sparkled when you praised him—it should have been satisfying. Instead, it was infuriating. 

Yet, against his better judgment, he found himself responding. Something in the glint of your smile made his guarded grin relax, if only for a moment. Begrudgingly, he’d join in, rolling his eyes at your endless enthusiasm but unable to entirely dismiss it. It was as if you were some parasitic creature, a leech drawing life from him, clinging on with no intention of letting go. 

And he endured—patient, calculating, waiting for you to tire of him. 

But then came the last straw. His beloved broadcast, his dream, was starting to slip through his fingers. Listeners dropped off, each patron he had worked tirelessly to convince backed out one by one. Every investment vanished like smoke. And with it, his patience thinned to a knife’s edge, fraying with each setback. Months of self-restraint, of resisting his baser urges, of refraining from any “extracurricular activities” in favour of keeping his show alive, felt like sacrifices crumbling underfoot. 

And he blamed you. 

Though in truth, your mistakes weren’t drastic enough to ruin his business, but they were enough to tear away at his sanity: the times you forgot to pick up his dry cleaning, spilled coffee on his meticulously crafted script—one he knew by heart—or neglected to take his typewriter in for maintenance, forcing him to painstakingly handwrite his next segment. Small annoyances, but they added up, each one tightening the coil of irritation within him. 

Today, though, something snapped. It started with a simple spill, water glistening on the polished wooden floor of his office. As you bent down to hurriedly wipe it, your hand brushed against his glass vase, sending it crashing to the ground in a cascade of shattered crystal. The shards sparkled around you, a mocking reflection of the life he felt slipping into chaos. 

In one swift movement, he had you pinned against the wall, his hands braced beside your head, his body pressing close. He could feel the heat radiating from you, his knee slipping between your legs, lifting just enough to keep you fixed in place. The room felt smaller, the air charged with something he couldn’t name, something that sent a thrill down his spine as he watched the flush creep up to your cheeks. 

“I have never met anyone as clumsy and foolish as you,” he murmured, his voice low, menacing. Though his mouth held its trademarked grin, his eyes burned, dark and narrowed, a storm barely restrained. 

“Ah, u-uhm,” you stammered, your eyes darting away, body trembling before him. 

“Look. At. Me.” His fingers caught your chin, tilting your face up, so your gaze was locked with his. 

Deep down, Alastor knew he was risking everything. You were untouchable—Daddy’s little girl from a family of wealth and power, far beyond his own background. He knew what one accusation could do, one tear sent running back to your father. His dream, his work, his station—he could lose it all before he could snap his fingers, hah! 

But right now, the months of mounting irritation, of resisting every impulse, of pushing down every dark urge—none of it seemed to matter. 

“So-sorry, s-sir,” you whispered, a helpless apology on your lips. And at that moment, something snapped within him. The rush of power, the slight tremor in your voice, the glimmer of fear in your eyes—it was intoxicating. 

His fingers itched with desire, a pulse of longing, dark and primal. 

He wanted to choke you, see the life dull from your eyes, kill you. 

It had been so long since he’d indulged, felt the thrill of being in control, of bending someone to his will. Slowly, his hand slipped down, brushing along the column of your neck, fingers tracing the soft, vulnerable skin. 

Just a small squeeze. Just a taste.

The moment his hand rested there, he felt the rapid beat of your pulse beneath his fingertips, sensed the quick rise and fall of your breath. Your pupils widened, darkening with something that wasn’t just fear, and he nearly laughed at the realization. 

You were… enjoying this. 

“Was it all on purpose, dear?” His voice dropped to a dark murmur, lips just a breath away from your ear, close enough that he could feel the heat of you. “Did you want this to happen? Have you been fantasizing about this with me?” His leg shifted, pressing upward, his knee sliding dangerously close to the warmth of your core, your skirt sliding higher as he held you in place. 

There was no escape for you, nowhere to look but at him, and he could hear your heart pounding louder, a heat blooming that had nothing to do with fear. The line between his anger and desire blurred, each breath he shared with you pulled him deeper into something he couldn’t resist. 

“Did you want to be punished by me?” Alastor’s voice was a low, dangerous purr, his fingers pressing into the side of your neck as he held you there, watching your every response. The softest moan slipped from your lips, unbidden, and his mouth curved into a slow, wicked grin. 

“Oh, dear,” he murmured, clicking his tongue in mock reproach. “How utterly deviant, depraved, you are.” He leaned closer, his lips barely grazing the edge of your ear. Every sound, every whisper, heightened the tremble in your muscles as your body gave in to his hold. 

Alastor felt the thrum of his own pulse, a deep, carnal need that was building to an undeniable point. He’d known desire before, but never this tangled web of control and raw hunger that he felt with you pinned so willingly beneath him. 

To his dark amusement, he felt the tightening in his pants as he took in every inch of your flushed, submissive form. You were an enticing little thing, and now, the line he’d never meant to cross was beginning to blur. 

A tempting thought crossed his mind. “If I fulfill your desire, will you fulfill mine, dear?” His voice was a low, velvet promise as he pressed his knee firmly against your core, feeling the heat of you even through the fabric. His grin grew, an expression laced with a dangerous delight. “How utterly sinful you are, hiding that desire under a mask of innocence.” 

“I-I would do anything you’d like, sir,” you whispered, breath hitching, your hands glued to your side.

Keeping his eyes locked with yours, Alastor pulled back, though he didn’t allow enough distance for you to look away—or see the intensity of his arousal pressing through his trousers. 

“Let me give you what you want,” he murmured. “One good, hard fuck, and I,” his voice turned sweet as he tilted his head, his gaze narrowing with intent, “want you to quit for good, after ensuring that Daddy keeps his generous funding for me.” He brushed his fingers along your cheek, a mockingly gentle caress. “What do you say, dear? Do we have a deal?” 

You hesitated, looking into his eyes, the flush of your cheeks deepening as your lip caught between your teeth. “Hard f-fuck?” you stuttered, voice soft yet bold, your fingers hovering near his chest before you finally dared to touch him, briefly tugging at the lapels of his jacket. “You don't find that strange?” 

Alastor didn't care how unusual your desire was. As long as he got what he wanted at the end, that was all that mattered to him. 

The end always justified the means. 

A dark laugh slipped from him, and he tightened his grip, one hand sliding up to tangle in your hair, fingers pulling enough to tip your head back as he leaned in. He pressed himself against you, his hardness now unmistakable against your stomach, his lips grazing yours in the lightest, tantalizing tease. 

“Eyes on me, darling,” he commanded softly, releasing his hold on you just enough to let his thumb trail down your lip as he took a small step back, watching you. “Now,” his voice dropped to a dark whisper, “strip.” 

To his delight, you hesitated, only for a heartbeat. Your cheeks flushed in that shade of pretty pink he found almost as irresistible as your trembling compliance. But then, slowly, you began undoing the buttons of your blouse, your fingers shaking slightly as you slipped the fabric from your shoulders, baring yourself to his gaze. 

Heat surged in his veins, not only from the sight of you, but from the delicious power thrumming in his veins. This wasn’t just about pleasure. It was control, a feeling as heady as the thrill of holding someone’s life in his hands. 

But tonight, he was going to savour every second of holding you in the palm of his hand. 

As your clothes slipped away, one by one, you stood bare before him, your skin glistening in the dim light, the cool air teasing your erect nipples. He stepped closer, the sharp click of his heels against the polished wood. “Someone might come in, dear; are you aware of that? I left the door unlocked, after all.” His voice dripped with sadistic glee.

Your breath hitched, and your gaze flicked nervously to the doorknob, before you paled, realizing it was indeed unlocked. You had no idea that his workers had all quit once they heard wind of the investors backing out. 

Yet, you stood your ground, your eyes meeting his with a potent mix of fear and unyielding resolve. There was a trust there—a dangerous, intoxicating trust—that he knew he didn’t deserve but was all too willing to take. 

“Kneel,” he commanded, and your knees hit the floor without hesitation. His lips curled into a wicked grin as he closed the distance, his hips thrusting forward enticingly. “Show me just how much you want it, dear.” His voice was sultry and low, coaxing you into surrender. Your fingers fumbled with his belt and pants, pulling them down to reveal his half-hard cock, thick and waiting for you. 

You inhaled sharply, before you pressed your lips to the tip while looking up at him, waiting for his next command. “Open your mouth,” he ordered, and you obeyed, “Tongue out,” he added, and your tongue slipped out from your lips, eager to please him. 

With a firm grip on your hair, he guided your head forward, forcing his cock deeper into your mouth. A low, primal groan escaped him, echoing off the walls of the office. It had been far too long since he’d indulged in such raw pleasure, and the thrill of having complete control over you heightened his arousal. This was not the gentle foreplay he was used to; this was a deliciously crude act of dominance that made his heart race. 

He couldn’t help but imagine how his mother would disapprove of his treatment of you. But you craved this, wanted him in ways that thrilled and terrified you both. It felt like a dark dance of power—a beautiful, twisted exchange that neither of you could resist. 

With each thrust, he lost himself deeper in your warmth, the sensation of your soft, wet mouth engulfing him driving him to the edge. He revelled in the control he wielded, in the way you surrendered to his desires, your submission stoking the one lukewarm drive within him. 

The best part of this exchange? He was going to remain on top, remain in control, remain in power, both in the deal struck and the way he devoured you. 

When he called you depraved, a deviant, your heart sank. Deep down, you knew it was true; your desires were unconventional, perhaps even strange. You had been with other men before, yet none had ever come close to scratching the itch that Alastor stirred within you. 

Every word he spoke about you rang true. Yes, you had a crush on him. Yes, you often found yourself lost in naughty, impure thoughts about him. Still, you yearned to keep those thoughts hidden, for working for him had become the highlight of your months. 

For once, you felt needed, desired, and useful—feelings that seemed to vanish the moment you returned home, where you faced the disappointment of your parents after yet another failed meeting with a suitor. The worry etched on their faces suggested they feared you might become a spinster.

The thought of Alastor wanting you to quit stung. It felt as if your dreams were crumbling around you, and the realization that he didn’t reciprocate your feelings hurt more than you cared to admit. But if you could have him for the first and last time, you wanted it to be an unforgettable memory. 

What Alastor would never realize was that you would never allow your father to withdraw his support from him financially. You loved his show genuinely, and you wanted to see him succeed and thrive. You believed in him wholeheartedly, confident that one day he would achieve the success he deserved, so he wouldn’t have to bargain for your father’s backing. 

As his hot, heavy cock filled your mouth, you felt a rush of heat flush through your body. You gagged slightly when the tip pressed against the back of your throat, a combination of pleasure and slight panic washing over you. The salty taste of him overwhelmed your senses, and you glanced up, seeing Alastor’s eyes closed in pure ecstasy. His fingers gripped your hair, the pressure varying as he slowly rolled his hips, the head of his cock brushing against the roof of your mouth. 

Each time you choked on him, you felt the violent twitch of his cock, and a small, heady low moan from him. It seemed he relished the sounds you made, and you focused on creating a tight seal around him, sucking with all the enthusiasm you could muster. But the bliss was abruptly cut short when he pulled your hair, yanking you off his cock. A glistening strand of saliva connected the tip of his cock to your lips, then fell, leaving a tiny droplet on the floor. 

“Messy girl,” he teased, and you could see the hard anger in his eyes fade, replaced by a gleam of something more raw and animalistic. He was enjoying this, and your heart raced at the thought. “Always making a mess of all my things.” His gaze flickered to the shattered vase on the floor, but thankfully, none of the fragments had reached where you knelt. “What do you have to say for yourself?” 

Your shoulders jumped as you looked up at him, your voice trembling. “I’m so—” But before you could finish, he thrust his cock back down your throat. You gagged again, tears springing to your eyes as you grasped at his thighs for stability. 

The struggle for breath was real, but Alastor didn’t relent, pushing deeper until your vision blurred from the lack of air. You fought to breathe through your nose, panic mingling with arousal. Just when you thought you might pass out, he finally pulled back, leaving you gasping for air, your body bowed low as coughs escaped your lips, mixed with tears and saliva spilling from your mouth. 

“I should punish you, shouldn’t I?” Alastor purred, his voice smooth like silk as he sauntered over to the single-seat couch in the corner of his office. His cock stood proudly, glistening with your saliva, an inviting sight that made your heart race. He patted his knee, an invitation that sent a shiver down your spine. “Come.” 

A flutter of excitement mixed with trepidation filled you as you quickly stood up, your legs feeling slightly unsteady as you approached him. When you reached him, your stomach flipped with a blend of curiosity and uncertainty. His gaze roamed hungrily over your body, settling on your slick folds, and he hummed a low note of approval. Slowly, he extended his hand, sliding a finger between your inner folds before teasingly flicking your sensitive clit. 

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as you doubled over, almost collapsing onto his lap. You could see the wicked glint in his eyes as he observed the slickness on his finger before bringing it to his mouth, tasting you. “Hmm,” he hummed, a smirk played on his lips. “Lay on my lap, stomach down.”

Your mind spun with a mix of confusion and apprehension. You complied, laying across his lap, your gaze dropping to the floor, heart racing. You felt the heat of his hard cock pressing against your side, and his hand began to stroke the gentle curve of your ass, sending sparks of desire coursing through you. 

“Have you ever been punished before, my dear?” he asked suddenly, his tone teasing yet serious. You hesitated, unsure of how to respond. “Have you ever been spanked before?” he corrected himself with a soft chuckle. 

Confusion clouded your thoughts as you shook your head. “N-no, my mama and papa never laid a hand on me like that,” you admitted quietly, unsure where Alastor was going with this. 

“Ah, it all makes sense now,” he mused, his hand continuing to caress your ass, fingers grazing your drenched folds. The teasing touch was just enough to send waves of heat pooling in your core, igniting a desperate need within you. You wanted him to delve deeper, to flick your clit until you were begging for release. 

“Let me give you a lesson on what we do to spoiled princesses,” Alastor remarked, his voice dripping with mock cheer. 

Before you could utter a word, you felt a sharp slap against your left cheek. The sting radiated through you, a mix of pain and unexpected pleasure that made tears prick at your eyes. You stifled a cry, fingers clenching at his pants in a desperate bid for control. 

“Does it hurt?” he asked, his tone devoid of any sympathy, only curiosity. 

You nodded vigorously, the truth washing over you. 

“Excellent,” he replied, a smirk curling at his lips before he raised his hand again, delivering another sharp slap to the same spot. The pain was intense, yet thrilling, and you felt a tear escape, rolling down your cheek as your body reacted in ways you never thought it could. 

Before you could beg him to stop, you felt his fingers plunge deep into your core, rubbing and massaging against your walls. A sharp gasp escaped your lips, quickly morphing into a heady moan as your body instinctively wiggled, seeking more of his touch. The slick sound of his fingers squelching inside you mixed with your cries, blending the initial pain into a dizzying rush of pleasure. 

Suddenly, an insatiable hunger ignited within you. You hadn’t realized how exquisitely pain and pleasure could intertwine. “Please, sir, m-more,” you mewled, unable to hold back the desperate need spilling from your lips as you turned your tear-streaked face to meet his gaze. Your heart raced, overwhelmed by the heady blend of emotions and sensations. 

Alastor’s fingers stilled inside you, his eyes darkening as they traced over your expression, drinking in your vulnerability. The corners of his lips twitched with satisfaction, and you felt the heat of his cock twitching insistently against your side. In a swift motion, he withdrew his fingers, pulling you up and manoeuvring you to straddle his lap. 

Blood rushed to your head, the dull ache of arousal amplifying every sensation. Your breath hitched as you felt the thick tip of his cock pressed against your entrance. With a firm pull, he sank you down onto him, filling you completely to the hilt. 

A scream tore from your throat, a mix of shock and bliss as the delicious stretch enveloped you. Tears streamed down your cheeks, mingling with the sharp, heat of pleasure as his cock throbbed against your walls. The arousal only mounted as Alastor leaned back against the couch, his mouth slightly parted, eyes fluttering shut in bliss. 

Moments later, he opened his darkened eyes. His fingers released your hips, and he commanded, “Move.” 

You hesitated, adjusting to his size, then began to lift yourself up, savouring the emptiness he left behind before sinking back down onto him again. The rhythm felt exhilarating as you rode him, bare and exposed before his hungry gaze. 

His hands found their way to your nipples, fingers grazing your sensitive skin, teasing your areolas with gentle circles. The electric pleasure shot through you, urging you to move faster, each rise and fall sending jolts of pleasure through your body. As you sank back down, he pinched your nipples hard, the sensation exploding through you. 

A sharp cry escaped your lips, mingling with a wave of decadent arousal that crashed over you. Desperation consumed you as you began to grind against his hip, your clit pulsing with need, craving attention, longing for the release that only he could provide. 

“My, you certainly do handle pain in quite a strange way,” Alastor said, his breath coming in heavy, lust-filled gasps as his hips jerked up against you. “Though—hah—I can’t say that I dislike it,” he murmured, a wicked grin spreading across his lips. 

He pulled your body forward, pressing his face between the soft, inviting curves of your breasts. His hips took full control, pistoning his thick cock deep inside you. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body, rising in a staccato rhythm that matched the desperate cries spilling from your lips. His teeth sank into the tender flesh of your breast, and you felt a delicious blend of pain and elation that blurred the lines of your pleasure. 

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, clinging to him as he bit down harder, his hunger for you evident in the fierce way he held you. Finally, he let go, his breath hot and ragged as he revealed his lips stained crimson with your blood. 

Your heart raced as you looked down, seeing the deep teeth mark oozing with warmth. His tongue flicked across his lower lip, savouring the taste of you as he pressed you even deeper onto his cock. A deep, throaty moan escaped him, the sound raw and primal. 

His eyes glinted with a dangerous hunger, and he bit into the underside of your breast once more, drawing another cry from your lips as his cock throbbed insistently against your walls. Instantly, the world flipped, and your back hit the cold floor, the shock sending sparks of mind-numbing pleasure coursing through you. Alastor's every bite left a blazing trail of sensation, a heady mix of sharp pain and bliss. His teeth glistened with crimson, and he began to thrust into you with desperation, each powerful movement sending waves of euphoria radiating from your core. 

It was overwhelming—the way he drilled into you, the way his hips slapped against your clit with a relentless intensity. The wet sound of skin against skin filled the air, mingling with the cacophony of his moans and your cries. Just as he sank his teeth into your other shoulder, you felt a blinding rush of pleasure, a bright flash that took you over the edge. You shattered around him, your body convulsing in waves of pure bliss as he continued to thrust, driving you deeper into ecstasy. 

Sobbing with a mixture of overstimulation and overwhelming emotion, drool trickled from your lips as tears flowed freely down your cheeks. You clung to him, the intense heat of your orgasm washing over you in a torrent. When he finally withdrew, Alastor positioned himself above you, pumping his cock vigorously, each stroke pulling a raw, primal growl from deep within him. The gleaming head of his cock pointed toward you, dripping with unsatisfied lust. 

With a low, guttural sound, he released himself, spurting hot, milky liquid that mingled with the crimson of your blood, swirling together into a beautiful shade of pink. The warmth splattered across your face, your neck, and trickled down the curve of your chest, marking you as his. 

When he finally let go, he gazed down at you with a mix of desire and admiration. “My, how pretty,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust, his eyes glazed and wild with an unquenchable hunger. 

Your heart raced at his words, and you lay still, the remnants of your orgasm still pulsing through you, each throb a reminder of the heat and sting left by his bites and slaps.

You didn’t dare speak as you waited for Alastor to gather himself, bracing for the inevitable moment he would fire you. Instead, he did something entirely unexpected. With a slow, deliberate movement, he traced his cum, now mingled with your blood, transforming into a light pink hue across your bottom lip. The sight sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and something more debased stirring within you. 

He then penetrated your mouth with his finger, the salty, bitter taste flooding your senses. You could taste the metallic tang, and a whisper of disgust escaped your lips as the awful flavour overwhelmed you. 

“I expect to see you tomorrow,” he murmured softly, his gaze locked on your lips, hypnotized as he pistoned his finger in and out of your mouth. Each movement was both gentle and demanding, making you feel utterly exposed. “Perhaps I underestimated your usefulness,” he continued, pressing down on your tongue, forcing you to swallow around him. “If you don’t come, I’ll assume you quit.” 

As he withdrew his fingers, glistening with your saliva, he brought them to his own, licking them clean with a slow, deliberate motion, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity that made your heart race. The way he savoured you, relishing the taste, ignited a forbidden thrill deep within you. 

“Understood,” you managed to say, your voice hoarse yet tinged with submission. The soft addition of “sir” fell from your lips like an offering, and the way his eyes darkened in response sent a jolt of excitement through you. 

His grin stretched wider, a predatory gleam flashing across his features, making you feel like prey caught in the gaze of a hungry predator. You were trapped, utterly captivated by his dominance, and yet there was a part of you that craved it—craved him.

And deep down, you knew you would let him devour you whole, wouldn’t you?

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

[hookedonhuge]

Ass-Man

If someone were to describe you there are only two words that would do you justice: ass and man. It was as simple as that. You’re a man and you love ass, and above all else, you love a man with a nice ass.

You were never shy about your adoration for men with nice round, smack-able backsides. However, there was one person that you kept this well-known secret from. It was your housemate. Your thick, caked-up housemate.

Despite how shameless your ass obsession was, you thought it was too much for your housemate to know just how obsessed you were with his assets. You might be an ‘Ass Man’ but you still had the decency to let your housemate live his day-to-day life without feeling constantly objectified.

In your head though, you did objectify him. It was hard to remember that there was a human behind those fat yet firm cheeks. You found it difficult to make eye contact with him, let alone get your gaze above waist height!

You’d often think to yourself: “Geez I know I need to stop staring at his ass and just treat him like he’s a regular guy but sometimes it’s so damn hard and he wears those silky shorts that accentuates his butt oh so well and every time I’m behind him he’s always bending over for some reason like he is trying to tease me but he’s so completely unaware at the same time and talks to me like a friend and not like I’m some ass loving weirdo.”

Besides the occasional cheeky glance at his behind, you never once succumbed and touched his magnificent booty, let alone made any comments about his rear-end (and your adoration for it) around him. But some nights it was just that little bit harder to contain yourself around him. Some nights you would take that extra step and go looking into places that you weren’t meant to see. That’s what you had done tonight. You went looking for trouble.

It had been a hot day. Your housemate got home from work and headed straight for his room. He took off his work clothes, crashed on his bed and pulled down his underwear to let his sweaty butt breathe. You had been eagerly waiting all day for him and his butt to come home, and you couldn’t handle not being able to take a quick glance. That’s how you ended up looking at his crack through the crack of his door, that he irresponsibly didn’t fully close.

Getting to see his naked butt, free from the constraints of fabric, was everything you dreamed about and more. The temptation to savour this moment with a photo was there, but too risky. Nevermind the fact that you couldn’t take your eyes away from it if you tried.

Watching him (or really his ass) through just a tiny slither between the door and the door frame soon became frustrating. You needed to see it in all its raw and unadulterated glory. Confident that he had passed out on his bed after his long workday, you started to slowly push the door more and more ajar.

It was all going well until the door betrayed you and decided to let out a mighty loud creak. You didn’t want to make the situation any worse by making sudden movements, but in hindsight (pardon the pun) perhaps you should have. Your housemate was quick to raise his upper body and turn his head around just enough to catch you taking a peek at him.

You thought maybe playing it cool was the way to go. You opened the door completely and tried to put on the performance of a lifetime.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t realise you were uh… sleeping and I just wanted to uh… ask…” Your face was a deep red and you were getting more flustered by the second. “Damn, is it me or is it a bit… hot in here?” You were sweating profusely. “It’s so hot… I can barely… think…” Your body felt heavy, your mind fuzzy, your vision blurry, and soon your whole world was coming crashing down… 

When you woke up you had a numb feeling throughout your body and you couldn’t move from the neck down. You wanted to yell out but you couldn’t as your lips had puckered and felt like they had been glued in that position. In fact, the more you tried to talk, the tighter your puckered lips felt. Your eyes darted around the room in a frenzy but you were locked into looking at a blank ceiling.

You felt a warm sensation in the sides of your mouth and your cheeks started to swell. Not like it was inflating with air, no, it was a different feeling. It was more like they were filling up with mass. You were sure you looked like a chipmunk with its mouth completely filled with acorns. 

The swelling did not stop there. Your cheeks kept fattening up, extending out a great distance from the side and front of your face. They were two round, fleshy orbs that were quickly taking up most of your peripheral vision and each of your expanding cheeks were now larger than your head. Your world was quickly descending into darkness as your cheeks were swallowing up your face. They grew to the point that the inner sides of each cheek touched in front of your puckered lips. This soon became rubbing as each cheek was fighting each other for limited space as they continued to balloon outwards.

Your vision was long gone and what was left of your face under your colossal cheeks felt like it had all mashed together into your tightly bound lips. The growth of your cheeks seemed to stop as a thin bit of fabric slid its way between your cheeks and pressed firmly against your puckered mouth. If you had to guess, each cheek was likely two to three times the size of your pre-swelled face. Another softer and more cushiony material hugged the bottom half of your severely bloated cheeks.

It was like your fat cheeks had buried you alive. You couldn’t scream for help, in fact you couldn’t move at all. You couldn’t even see or hear a thing. However, after what felt like a short eternity, a lifting of the thin material on your lips and the spreading of both your cheeks by a powerful force allowed for blinding light to finally flood back into your eyes. Once your vision had adjusted to the light, you finally saw what had become of you.

You were staring at your housemate’s gigantic ass (and it truly was gigantic, it had doubled in size since you last saw it) and his butthole was staring right into your soul. That’s when you realised you were looking into a mirror. That butthole was actually you staring at yourself. You had become what you desired most: your housemate’s big, fat bubble butt.

“You’ve added so much size to my ass,” your housemate groaned in pleasure. “My fit, tight bubble butt has exploded into a fat, jiggly dump truck, and it’s all your fault!” He put on a fake whiny tone as he said this, but in reality he was enjoying every second of teasing you.

You tried to respond but your puckered butthole-lips wouldn’t budge. “Oh, are you trying to say something?” He parted your fat cheeks even more with his powerful hands, allowing your lips to open slightly. A small toot of air escaped out of your mouth before your lips closed again. It served as a sobering reminder that being your housemate’s butt meant dealing with his digestive system too.

“Do you feel blessed or cursed by this little predicament you’ve found yourself in?” Your housemate asked with an air of sincerity. “Knowing how much you love my ass I bet you’d be grinning ear to ear, if you could!” He let out a thunderous laugh that caused your cheeks to jiggle slightly. “I’d like to know if you still feel the same way after a day of being my ass, let alone a lifetime.” It dawned on you that this wasn’t some crazy dream.

“By the way…” Your housemate removed his hands from his butt, causing his thong to snap back into your lips like a whip and your cheeks to accelerate towards each other. They slammed into each other with a loud, satisfying clap which sent shockwaves of jiggles rippling through them. “Don’t get used to staring at my ass, that’s the privilege that your old self had. Your new self is going to be experiencing pitch-black darkness ninety-nine percent of the time.” Your housemate chuckled as he gave his butt an open-palmed smack. It hurt, but you were never going to get sick of the way your jelly-like cheeks wobbled in response to the impact.

“It’s time to go to work.” Your housemate sighed with disappointment. “Well, today will test whether staring at my ass for all that time was worth it or not.” If you were capable of gulping you would have. You had no clue if you were in hell or heaven. One thing was for certain, your housemate turned owner was certainly not going to make your new life easy.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Your housemate said ominously. “I never really minded you staring. Maybe if you were more forthcoming about being infatuated with my behind, you could have avoided this fate. Anyway, I’ll never know if you’re happy about this or not, but I sure know I am! And since you are a part of me, shouldn’t my happiness be enough?”

You didn’t know what to make of your housemate’s sentiment, but he had a point. You can’t change what has now happened so you might as well try to make the most of it. You were once a self-proclaimed ‘Ass Man’ and now you’ve evolved into an ‘Ass-Man’. You’ve alway loved ass so logically you should love yourself more in your new state. It was easy to think that way, but ass your housemate but on his work pants, your world got even darker and a hell of a lot stuffier. If you still had lungs, then these cramped and claustrophobic conditions would have quickly felled you. 

But ‘Ass-Man’ doesn’t need oxygen and he will soldier on, for better or worse… 

[lostinforestbound]

I kept thinking about this so I just had to write it out! I also made a little blurb under the cut with a gn!Tav. Let me know your thoughts and feel free to add on!

Rolan with Early Greying Hair

When he discovers his first grey hair, he's almost devastated.

He's still young, he isn't supposed to greying yet, but it seems the stress of everything he's gone through is catching up.

At first, he started plucking them out when he spots them, willfully trying to ignore the fact he's greying at all. When plucking became a little painful, he tries a little bit of dye instead.

Unfortunately, the dye he used changed the texture of his hair to the point it was noticeable, so he ended up washing it out.

They're more visible on the sides of his temple, so he shifts his hair more loosely in hopes of hiding them.

Of course he's insecure about it! What in the hells will Tav think of it? No doubt they would find it unattractive!

One day, as he shares a bath with them, they finally notice them as they wash his hair.

He feels them gently pull his hair back to get a better look, and he immediately thinks of the worse case scenarios.

He'll speak up, going on a small ramble of how he's tried plucking them out but they keep coming back. He'll promise to find proper dye to hide it better.

He's shocked when he turns his head towards them and see a light blush on their face.

"I actually think it's attractive. Grey looks wonderful on you," They say. He would genuinely think they're joking, but they seem utterly sincere.

Bonus Points: Tav reveals their own gray strands from the stress of their adventure.

The sigh of relief that comes out of his mouth made him realize how tense he was about up until this moment. It embarrasses him how worked up he got over it.

He's still desirable to them; he's always been desirable. He just got too wrapped up in his own anxiety.

Maybe he should stop worrying about how he looks and realize Tav loves him, grey hairs or not. They seem to love the greys, and that's all he needs.

Writing Blurb

Even as Tav massages his shoulders, he can't make himself relax in the hot water he drew up for the both of them.

He's tried everything he could to mask what he identifies as his shame; plucking, dyeing, wearing his hair a different way, but nothing can ever hide the fact that he's greying already.

Gods damn it all, he's still young! At least young enough that greying at his age is strange. His life has been absolute hell, no pun intended, and now it's hitting him with another problem, and he can't catch a break. Of all the hurdles that could possibly be in his way after finally living comfortably, this is the one life decided to throw at him? Absurd! Horrendous!

Tav doesn't know about the greys, and he's worried about them finding out. What if they don't find him attractive because of those pesky hairs refusing to disappear?

He doesn't even notice Tav pausing as they pull his hair back. When he does, he sees them looking at the sides of his temple; his anxiety spikes in that moment. "I've tried plucking them, but they keep on returning," He rambles immediately, trying to salvage Tav's nonexistent disappointment. "The dye I tried almost ruined my hair. I'll look for a better quality one, and then they will-" "Rolan, I love them." Tav interrupts him with a smile, face flushed. The water splashes from how fast he shifts in the basin, staring at them in shock. They continue on, running his fingers through his hair to get a better look and using their other hand to cup his jaw. "Grey looks great on you."

He leans into their palm, sighing. "I thought you would be...I don't know," he says with a small huff, eyes fluttering close. "I find it hot." That makes him bark out a laugh. "Must you always be so vulgar?" "Calling something about you 'hot' is not vulgar! Prude." They tease, kissing his forehead and then his nose, finally landing on his lips afterwards. There will probably be a longer conversation about his previous insecurity when they get to bed, but for now, he knows just how loved he is, greys and all.

[watchingblsnowandforever]

Hello!!!! =D

So. We Are ep 13. I don't how they do this, but they keep making every episode better than the last. At this rate, I'll not be able to survive episode 16.

Warning: long post 😊😅 (there will be a smol part 2 because 30 screenshots are definitely not enough.)

We have the Best Parents in BL, but now I present to you: The Best Aunt in BL.

Subtle, Aunt Pui, real subtle. 😭

I get her. She just wants a nice, handsome boyfriend for her nephew. 😌

First of all, the symbolism is hitting me right in the face, but it's also so subtle because no one else knows the whole story, so they wouldn't be able to figure it out.

Secondly. Yes, the red and blue do clash a bit, and it's not the prettiest little painting. But. Not every painting has to be "pretty" or perfect. Just like feelings or emotions in real life. Peem didn't willingly draw over his precious painting because he thought it'd look better; he did it because he wanted it to express his feelings. This also ties into Peem's insecurity at having (apparently) failed at being Phum's comfort zone because see, in the painting it looks like the sea is embracing the roses, or protecting them.

What I'm trying to say, is that what makes art beautiful is not just what you directly see on the canvas/right in front of you. And this applies even to the "pretty" ones. The David is not just famous because it looks very good, but also because of the amount of skill and talent Michelangelo had to be able to create such a thing from a block of marble. (I'm sorry I'm not good at examples or analogies 😭)

Sir. What business do you have, making an expression like that and giving me a heart attack.

If I haven't said this before: find a man who looks at you like Phum (Pond) looks at Peem (Phuwin).

Two sides of the same coin.

Phum still feels guilty (which is very clear from his reaction to what Peem says) about ruining Peem's painting, so he wants to do something to make sure nothing like that ever happens to Peem again.

Peem is long over it (you don't ever forget shit like that, but he has definitely forgiven Phum). He met Phum because of that Incident™, and he has a new, upgraded painting, so this is just a light joke for him. But the moment he sees it's too soon for Phum, he immediately goes to reassure him he's just kidding, and he absolutely does not hold it over Phum.

A simple pinky promise, but how much does it mean to Phum?

He's never had someone to make a pinky promise with; Fang was in a similar situation as him, and Beer knew better to make a promise and have it broken by forces outside his control.

So this, this small, childish gesture means quite a bit to him. (Which is also probably why having broken it hurt him so much.)

And yet Peem, you're smiling so wide while saying that. Almost like *le gasp* you actually like it!

Let's be real here, Peem. You don't mind at all. In fact, you sounded unbearably fond saying this. You were quite literally giggling and kicking your feet. (Which fits my headcanon of him pretty well actually.)

This shot. Just >>>> (actually thinking of making it my header-)

Ma boy never misses a chance 😭👍🏼

And if he doen't get a chance, he makes one and nails that too. <3

SO CUTEE 🥺🫶🏼

Oh the teasing is on.

Pun: I did that 😌

Beer: Idiots in love. Again. *exasperated sigh*

[From this point on, I am extremely sleep deprived, so most comments made will probably (definitely) be forgotten by the time I wake up (I'm going right to sleep after posting this.]

Well, Chain, I'm sorry to be the one telling you this, but Phum moved into Peem's heart like 6 episodes ago.

Well, yeah, but Peem has to act at least a little bit like the tsundere he is, right?

Chain: "Well, can a cupid shoot an arrow at himself?"

Toey: *very telling side-eye*

Q: You really think one flirty line will trigger his half braincell to understand what he didn't in the past however many years? ...go on, I wanna see how this turns out

Pun: *pikachu meme face*

Beer: Oh damn here goes another one, we must be nearing the last episode

Phum: ????

Peem: Don't say anything don't say anything DON'T SAY ANYTHING DON'T YOU DARE FUCKING SAY A SINGLE WORD- (internally: Idiots. They're idiots.)

Ah, I love the sibling energy here. Also, initially I was like nah you're more like Tan. But then I gave it some thought. And had a Realization: he really is the Fang in their relationship, and Q really is the Tan. (I do not have the brainpower to explain rn, but tell me if you want me too, I'll include it in Part 2.)

Phum can't wait. (And neither can Peem, because I didn't see ya denying anything, babe. Instead, you gave him the softest shoulder bump in the history of soft shoulder bumps and that bigass (smitten) smile.

Oh boy this scene.

Right before this, when Peem called Phum immediately after the last brushstroke, I was smiling so hard and giggling like yesss do boyfriend-y things with each other!

Him waiting on the porch: still big smile. Here comes Phum! Ooh are they gonna flirt in the car??

My smile started dimming as the seconds ticked by and no Phum appeared on screen.

Until I finally realized what was happening.

I almost stopped breathing.

And as the scene went on my heart broke a little more with every text and every call, and I was watching that mall scene again. Except it was much much worse this time.

So long story short, I was heartbroken for both of them. Especially when Peem showed up alone with the saddest lost-kitten face ever.

But, at this point I knew Phum must have had something really urgent/unaviodable to miss his meeting with Peem because 1. He really really loves that boy and 2. He was very much looking forward to doing this with Peem.

Unfortunately, I will have to end Part 1 here (please don't kill me), and I'm loathe to end on a sad note, but I promise the next part will be much happier. It will hopefully be posted a little later today.

If you got this far, thank you so much for reading! 😊

Here, have a pudding 🍮

My previous We Are posts.

[luckycharms1701]

Lucky I write down potential asks in my notes and literally just scribbled this today so the fact hur open now is a wild coincidence and also ily /p have a great night !!! Drink fluids !!

The set up premise might be.. different? so ignore if inspiration doesn't tickle ur scrote but I am a person who eats spicy food on a daily basis and if it's painful enough it can look like a damn sexual experience(panting, sweating, flushed face, gr/moaning(in pain), whines, milk spills, the works). I can see bay Mikey doing some kind of prank or dare without knowing what would stir within until suddenly ur being dragged off to his bedroom trading one heat for another-

I'd hoped this was just about blurbish length and that I make sense ;-; (I am so nervous about sending request asks in I am ill)

(-gornack but anon cuz if i sound nonsensical I don't want the embarrassment of having my account attached)

^ how i felt reading this ask

there is nothing to be embarrassed about here!!

sorry for the fade to black but hope you enjoy anyway!

It takes exactly three wings for you to realize that you’ve made a mistake. You pause when the heat hits your tongue, and that is another mistake. You swallow without tasting anything and look at Mikey’s expectant face with a shaky smile. “No problem!” You give him a thumbs up, hoping he’ll ignore the increasing redness you can feel in your face.

When Mikey came to you, begging to recreate those videos he was obsessed with where people eat progressively spicier food, you knew this would happen. You knew. But one look into those tearful puppy dog eyes and you folded faster than wet cardboard. Now you (and your relatively low spice tolerance) find yourself wishing that you weren’t head over heels for him.

“Yes!” Mikey cheers with his hands in the air, and all the pain you are about to endure is immediately worth it. Damn him. You look back down at the remainder of the wing in your hand and both dread and determination run through your veins. Well, mama didn’t raise no quitter. You bring the little bomb to your mouth and eat the rest of it, trying and failing to keep the sauce off your lips. Shit.

You nibble on some bread to help with the heat, saving the milk for later when you’re truly suffering. Your fingers tap along to the beat of the music Mikey put on as you look for the next spicy little enemy. Instead of offering you the next saucy wing, Mikey is staring. At your lips, specifically. You touch them hesitantly. They feel a little inflamed but dry. “Did I miss some sauce or something?” Mikey shakes his head with an unusually (even for him) loud “No! You’re fine.” You shrug and reach for the wing he offers you.

Sweat forms on your brow before the heat hits, and you brace yourself just in time. A breathy “oh” leaves your parted lips as the heat rolls through your mouth like thunder. You give in and reach for the milk as the heat crests, gulping a little too quickly and spilling some. When the teasing you expect from your best friend doesn’t manifest, you try to contain your panting and look up to find him once again staring at your mouth. “Okay, I know what’s up with me, but what’s up with you?” You reach up and swipe at the line of milk dribbling down your chin with your thumb, and Mikey visibly swallows.

“N-nothing, angel. Just wondering if you’re still up for this. You look… heated.” You groan loudly at what you assume is a very bad pun, holding out your hand for the next torture device. The heat in your mouth is now at an alarmingly high steady burn, but you are trying to ignore that in favor of getting through this ordeal.

“Hit me, Michelangelo.” He mutters something under his breath that you can’t hear over the music, and you study him as he hands you the next wing. He is twitchy, eyes dark as he watches your fingers wrap around the meat. Wondering why Mikey is acting so weird is a good distraction from the pain in your mouth, so you continue to observe him as you raise the fifth wing to your mouth.

It seems almost like Mikey is the one on the spot, you muse as you chew, with the way he can’t sit still. He’s looking everywhere except at you now, fingers tapping agitatedly on the can of Orange Crush in between his hands on the table. Then the heat hits you like a brick wall, and there is no room in your head for anything except the stinging pain. Tears fill your eyes as you whimper.

Mikey’s chair scraping across the floor startles you as you chug some milk, and you spill some again. Your whimper turns into a groan as more milk dribbles down your chin. How embarrassing. The milk pools in your hand as you try in vain to keep it from getting everywhere.

“Okay, that’s it!”

Before you can process what’s happening beyond the fire raging in your mouth, Mikey rounds the table and picks you up. You stutter his name, hands flailing, beyond bewildered. He ignores you and beelines for his room, squeezing you firmly against his plastron.The door closes with an ominous snick, and you brace yourself, still panting from the heat of the wings. The tension leaves you though, as Mikey tosses you on the bed and shows you exactly why he was acting so weird. Oh. Ohhhhh. OH.

~~~

head bonks: @yorshie @avery73 @justalotoffanfiction @thejudiciousneurotic @writinandcrying @xnorthstar3x @morenovix218 @donniesgirlie @gornackeaterofworlds

[ghosts-bandwagon]

Ghosts That We Knew

fluff, comfort fic, mentions of survivors guilt and trauma Memories are a bitch sometimes. You thought bitterly as you stood against the rail, lit cigarette slowly turning to ash between your fingers. It was a job well done, everyone’s fine, you can rest now. So why can’t you? Is it because you’re remembering all the times it didn’t go well? Because the memories of fallen comrades and coppery last words hang heavy in your heart?

That was a different time, a different team, a different place, a far inferior version of yourself. You tried to remind yourself of that. 

Why couldn’t you do what you can now back then? What was stopping you from being who you are now? 

You brought the cigarette to your lips, goosebumps raising on your skin as the cool night sent a cold breeze your way. Fitting. You shuddered as you took a deep drag, tonguing the smoke in your mouth before letting it out into the breeze. You were so deep in the trenches of your survivors guilt that you barely registered something soft and warm slipping over your shoulders,

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to get sick on purpose.” Ghost broke the silence as he leaned on the rail beside you,

“Good thing you know better.” You chuckled dryly, he took in your appearance and it only took him a fraction of a second to know what was keeping you awake and far from the team,

“You keep carryin’ your ghosts with you and they’ll never go away, you know that right?”

You opened your mouth to argue but you knew better. So you opted to take another drag instead. 

“We need you here with us, sergeant.” He hated taking his official tone with you but he knew you needed to hear it in an official capacity, “It’s because of you that Soap’s still with us today.” You knew it was meant to bait you into warming up and you fell for it nonetheless as you chuckled at his begrudging tone,

“Suppose I’ll be summoned to your office for that one, sir?” 

“Damn right you will.” You two laughed softly, the air warming up as you both gravitated towards the other, arms touching one another on the rail until you leaned on him completely, resting your head on his shoulder. Simon watched as your tired eyes settled on the horizon, nimble fingers tapping the ash off your cigarette, bringing it to your lips before stopping. He watched you open your mouth, close it again, and then open it once more,

“It does.” He answered your unspoken question, one that you were ashamed of even asking in the first place, knowing your role as the pillar to the task force, “It takes time, and effort on your part, but it does, in fact, get better.”

“Effort?”

“You think it comes easy?” Simon scoffed, your head moved with his shoulders when he made the noise, “Shit, Soap might’ve been luckier than I thought.” He teased, you elbowed him in the ribs with your mouth agape at the insinuation,

“Not that much luckier, asshole.” You laugh, “You just don’t want to admit I’m a better shot than you, but you’re gonna have to live with it whether you like it or not.” 

“In your dreams, sweetheart.”

Your laughs died down and you almost forgot why you couldn’t sleep in the first place, at least until you felt your fingers almost burn. You reflexively threw the cigarette butt away from your hand then crushed it with your boot once you realized what just happened. 

“Like I said, carry your dead but don’t let them bury you. We need you here.” I need you here. He could taste the words on his tongue as they sat heavy in his throat. And from the way you looked at him, the reflection of the moon in your eyes, like he held everything you loved in them, he knew you could taste the words too. 

“I don’t know, having some ghosts is ok, I think.” You argued with a gentle shrug,

“I swear to God, if you’re setting up for what I know will be a shit pun at my expense, I’ll make you regret it.” His eyes narrowed but they didn’t hold any malice, not towards you, never towards you. His chest fluttered as he watched you purse your lips and try (and fail) not to smile,

“What? No! I was going to say, uh, that um…” You tripped over your words as you tried desperately to think of something else to say, 

“Christ, you’re terrible at this.” He hung his head with a dramatic sigh,

“I’m thinking! Shut up!”

“Don’t think too hard, I just said I need you in one piece.” 

“You’re unbearable.” You shook your head as you bumped his hip with yours, a comfortable silence settled and you leaned against him deeper. He folded his arms so he could stretch his fingers out to touch you, you sighed as peace began to flourish in your chest. You mimicked his movements until you were able to thread your fingers with his, warmth flooding your veins as you stifled a yawn,

“There you are.” He said with a small laugh,

“Thank you, Simon. Almost got lost there.” You turned your head to kiss his shoulder, 

“I know. I’ll always bring you back. Least I could do.” He pecked the top of your head through his mask,

“For what?” You yawned,

“For bearing with the unbearable.” He teased, “Now go sleep, if I hear you moanin’ about how tired you are tomorrow, I’ll give you somethin’ to be tired about.”

“Oh no, anything but that!” You feigned shock and fear,

“Not the threat you’re hoping for, pervert, you can count on that.” He nudged you off of him with his hip, hands on your shoulders as he guided you back inside, 

“I mean it, Si, thank you.” Your voice was soft, almost scared to leave that tender moment behind. Scared to rejoin what you know awaits you behind your eyes and in the tired and frightened recesses of your mind, he knows because he was scared of the same thing. 

“Anytime, love, you let me know.” It was as much an invitation as it was a plea,

“I will.” 

“That's all I ask.” He knew you’d need him when you both got back home, could basically hear the knocking at his front door already. He didn’t get much sleep to begin with but he’d gladly lose sleep if it meant bringing you some semblance of peace. “Good night, sergeant.” His voice was soft and held every ounce of intimacy that you’ve ever shared with him as he dropped you off at your room, 

“Good night, Ghost.” You begrudgingly parted but spun on the ball of your heel before you two got very far, your hand shot out to grab his arm and he stopped in his tracks,

“By the way, you’re the only ghost I don’t mind being haunted by.” You quipped, biting your lip to keep your smile from getting any wider, 

“You’re so fucking lucky I need you alive.”

“I’m counting my stars, Ghost.”

a/n: I’m still alive! I’m hoping to come back to full capacity eventually but I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it!

[ronearoundblindly]

If its ok what if

Lloyd hansen x reader x steve rogers

🥵 smutt

ya know, it took me a loooong time--this ask is from september--to come up with something, but today's the day apparently! And, AND! The lovely @darsynia made me an awesome graphic whilst I wrote all this filth! Thank you, bestie!!! WC 3.3k

Warnings for oh fuck these two are terrors, smut, goddamn fighting (obviously, bc they can't get along in any universe), possibly the worst fucking puns ever and I no longer care, terrible/inaccurate/but very mild dom/sub vibes, not much but knife play. Please note that this work does not involve the two men together. Alternate title: Ro is 1,000% [nope, better make it 1,000,000%] going to hell. MINORS DNI. 18+ ONLY. There is plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this is not for you!

You can tell Steve is about to crawl out of his skin as the knife touches yours.

"You buy these pretty things for me?" Lloyd coos, tucking the point of his switchblade beneath a lacy seam. He knows damn well the navy set with bright red hearts is not for his enjoyment at all, so he turns his head to stare at your husband.

"Useless," Lloyd growls, flicking his wrist deftly.

The sliced fabric springs back to reveal your thatch of hair. You have no idea whether Lloyd was talking about your panties or Steve, and frankly, you're too turned on to care. There’s a certain amount of goading you expected aimed at the awkward hunk leaning on the far wall.

Steve clenches his arms tighter across his chest and sucks in a breath, eyes darting to your skin in case Lloyd drew blood, but his gaze lingers at your almost exposed core.

He hates this whole idea, but you have tried talking to him so many times about how to make sex more interesting. Steve can't stand to even listen to the words much less do what you want. This is the compromise.

Lloyd Hansen will do anyone for the right price, and sure, usually, that's killing, but who doesn't love a good fuck? Who wouldn't get half-hard just thinking about taking Captain America's wife to pound town right in front of the guy?

Lloyd simply smirks, returning his eyes to you and nudging the lace a little farther. The flat of the blade on your mound feels cold and so fucking dangerous that you shiver, neck tensing to throw your head back.

"How's that feel, pumpkin?"

"Golden," you whine, mewling when he nicks the other end and pulls your panties off. Lloyd doesn't like safe words and shit, but he agreed to a few check-ins, and you do have a way to stop him because, let's face it, the money is the real goal for him. The rest is gravy.

Lloyd stalks over to Steve's corner of the room, lifting the ruined garment for the other to take. "A souvenir--" he chuckles "--what's that smell like to you, huh, big man?"

Steve grimaces, unmoving, so Lloyd shoves your panties in his face.

"Smells like team spirit to me."

You should laugh. You really should. You should not fucking moan when you see Steve's chest expand and his eyes flutter shut briefly. You should not have such a surge of tingling heat race to your center that your thighs slam together.

But you do. And Lloyd notices.

"This is gonna be fun," he whispers, likely to himself, as he drops the fabric and walks over again.

His fingertips slide from your knee up your thigh, and Lloyd bends to nip at your neck.

"Lie back from me, sweetheart. Go on."

You have to cover a squeak while you flop onto the mattress. This sort of dominance is nothing like Steve Rogers even on his most confident day. Steve is always measured and a little tentative, his force reined in to the point of being boring after so many years. This is all flush and feral with the promise of oblivion, and in the strangest way, you still associate every second as with Steve, not Lloyd Hansen. The exercise in trust--the sheer fact that he was willing to entertain this idea, much less the practice--is a show of devotion from Steve you never thought possible.

And then Lloyd kneels down and pushes your legs apart. "Open up for me. That's it. Good girl."

"Ah fuck," you moan into your hand, and thank god if Steve does hear you, he doesn't say a thing.

Lloyd skips finesse and plunges into the dirty end of the pool by licking all the way up and down your cunt, hands spreading your ass to expose every bit of you to him, and he pauses to speak with his mouth against your clit.

"Do I need to give him a lesson or can I just fucking taste you?"

"I know how to--" but Steve's protest dies behind the noise Lloyd makes sloppily eating you out like a man starved.

Your legs instinctively wrap around his head, and your hips buck into the wild ride. His mustache burns in the best way. You gasp so much that your throat burns dry, too.

He says other things, things that rumble up your spine and settle deep in your brain, but you can't process what those words are until the white-hot lightning finally cracks your body apart.

Lloyd is shockingly soothing as you come back down from your high but unshockingly smug when he sweeps his face clean of your cum.

"You're doing star-spangled spectacularly for me, slut, now why don't--"

There's a thunderclap of noise that wrenches you out of your bliss. You’re knocked onto your side as Lloyd falls to the floor.

Steve raises his arm again but hesitates when you call his name.

"He doesn't...he doesn't do well with language like that," you manage to say, still fuzzy and out of breath.

Lloyd wipes blood from his nose. "Yeah, I picked up on that. Thanks,” he spits sarcastically, followed by a real spit to clear his mouth. “Down, boy. I'll play nice--" he winks at you as he rises "--but not too nice."

Lloyd climbs back to sit on the edge of the bed beside you, his hand spreading over your throat gently. "Feels good, don't it? Feeling golden?"

You nod vigorously.

He licks more blood from his lip. “Yeah? Can we move on, pumpkin, or is your pussy still needy—“

Lloyd catches Steve's fist this time, jumping up to punch your husband square in the neck.

Steve, to his credit, doesn't even go down, but he drops his arm and steps back, rubbing the point of contact as he wheezes for a minute.

"Can I please continue?" Lloyd screams in annoyance. The man is not in any way used to sharing, or going slow, or giving a flying fuck about anyone in the room for that matter. However, Lloyd is a dedicated professional, so he’ll continue because he knows what’s in it for him. "God damn it,” he barks, spitting at Steve’s feet.

Lloyd takes a beat to compose himself and returns to your side, facing away now, his hand plunging between your legs.

"Time to earn participation points, Golden Boy." Two fingers breach your entrance without warning. "On your knees."

Lloyd snaps his other fingers and points to the ground like he's training a dog to heel.

Slowly, with wide eyes and hesitant steps, Steve places himself exactly as Lloyd did before. He strategically keeps his focus glued to yours until the squelching sound of Lloyd's fingers thrusting in and out of you becomes too loud to ignore.

That look--that fucking moment where your husband sees your core and hunger darkens his whole face--could send you back over the edge right here, but suddenly, Lloyd stops.

"Now we've got his attention," the cruel man laughs.

Like your panties before, there's no ceremony to Lloyd shoving his fingers into Steve's awe-parted lips, but the biggest shock is how your husband doesn't fight the intrusion. No. Steve grabs Lloyd's wrist to keep him there until Steve is done sucking your taste off another man's fingers.

You're pretty sure that's when your soul left your body, but it's a toss-up between that and every other moment tonight.

With more patience than you thought possible, Lloyd waits, comically making an “O” with his mouth and looking at you. “Someone’s eager for the beaver, I see.” He takes the same wet fingers and tucks them between your breasts, snapping the front of your bra sharply against your sternum. 

“Finish unwrapping your present. I wanna see what you got—” and when Steve immediately reaches behind your back for the clasp, Lloyd’s eyebrows bob up and down “—and he’s good at following orders, too.”

Your husband plants a gentle kiss on the swell of one breast before Lloyd stops him, tutting while he holds a fucking knife against Captain America’s chest to sit him back on his heels.

He ticks the blade down. “That’s your half now. This is mine.”

You’re practically panting while Steve’s eyes go hard in possessiveness, locked onto Lloyd in a challenge you don’t quite understand until the fancy man flips the blade back into it’s handle.

“Fine,” Lloyd grouches, tossing the knife farther up the bed. He shuffles closer to face you, a warm hand cupping your breast before he tweaks the nipple harshly. “Why don’t you relax for us, huh, good girl?”

Lloyd coaxes you to lean back again, orders Steve to hold your legs open and tease you, buries painful fingers in your hair, and forces you to watch.

“That’s it. Don’t you want to hear her beg? Doesn’t she sound so sweet? Oh, I like her desperate…”

Not in years has Steve Rogers whispered anything so filthy as the shit that falls from Lloyd’s mouth, but goddamn, every word is like kindling stoking the vigor with which Steve consumes you. You lap up the praise while your husband gulps down every ounce created by every word.

Lloyd lowers to suck and bite all over your chest, marks blossoming across the tender skin as he takes a sort of sweet revenge for his bloody nose. A kink for a kink.

“You want to tell him what’s next,” Lloyd rasps, straining your neck back to look at him in the last few moments before you come again, “or should I?” His devilish smile is the last thing you see before he pushes you to meet Steve’s eyes, the perfect, final flick of tongue rolling over your clit.

Dutifully—sweetly almost—Steve lifts away from you as your legs shake, replacing his face with his fingers to gently bring you down, and Lloyd does not like that. He swats Steve’s hand off to slap your raw bundle of nerves and shove his fingers in again, brutally hitting that spongy spot until the dam of orgasm doesn’t just rupture, it explodes inside you.

You cry out and flail. Lloyd pins you down with a knee to your ribcage, and it hurts but not enough to give a shit over the rush of cum soaking his hand and the sheets below. Steve holds your ankles so you don’t kick him in the face while squirming, transfixed on every move Lloyd makes to milk you stupid.

With one last wet slap, Lloyd rests his hand on your belly and tosses a gelled lock of hair out of his face.

“Wifey here wants to suck you dry,” he boasts, and your hands fly to your face in hot embarrassment.

You confessed that after drinking quite a lot during the ‘negotiation’ of terms for this little arrangement, but only when Steve excused himself to the restroom. Lloyd wasn’t supposed to repeat your fantasy.

“That’s right, big guy. She’s gonna blow your—“ his eyes drop and raise “—mind,” he continues, unpinning you and pushing your arms to the side. He leans down to smear your own slick across your mouth messily, quietly adding, “he won’t even notice I’m right behind you.”

The air rushes out of your lungs before you can stop it, making a downright pathetic sound of anticipation.

“Strip,” Lloyd commands, waving a hand casually at Steve and sauntering over to a bottle of water on the dresser. “The…uh…lady should get on her knees.”

Steve turns to the other wall, unable to meet your eye, bright red blotches spotting his neck and cheeks. He’s embarrassed, too, but from the speed at which he unzips his jeans to relieve his still-straining erection and then pulls his shirt over his head, Steve is also painfully aroused. You even catch him rubbing his cock with each conceivable pass while disrobing. It reignites that weak fire between your tired legs.

“Face up, Captain. Give ‘er some room,” Lloyd snorts, capping his water.

Of course, Steve spreads his legs in front of you, and instead of acknowledging how fucking hard he is, he helps you balance into position.

You capture a quick kiss and smile as your husband blushes even more.

“Jesus, I’m gonna vomit,” Lloyd mutters behind you.

He’s just so, so fucking evil, but you admit the contrast has you drooling to get your mouth on Steve. You’re already planning on adding orders to your regular routine. You buzz with excitement at all this play implies, now and in the future.

Steve isn’t just letting this happen; he likes what’s happening.

Lloyd’s warm hand pets down your spine until it rests heavily on your lower back, the heel of it pressed against your spread ass, an encouragement and a threat.

“Take him how you want. Just like you told me.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, listening to Steve’s ragged breaths amidst Lloyd's criticism.

“You don’t just lick him, do you, kitten? You can do better than that. I thought you wanted to swallow him whole. Don’t disappoint me now. More. You can take it. More.”

Your nose nuzzles into Steve’s pelvis as you feel his cock jump in your throat. You swallow around him but force yourself up for air after.

“Is that the best you got?” Lloyd teases, his hand sliding tauntingly down your crack and through your folds before he’s gone.

You open your eyes when he grabs your wrist and presses the closed switchblade into your palm.

“Go on. Hold it, pumpkin. Right there.” Lloyd makes your hand rest on Steve’s thigh. For balance, you have to open your fist and press the metal to your husband’s skin as you take him back into your mouth.

Steve fucking groans, pinching his eyes shut and grabbing the sheets beneath him.

“Oh yeah,” Lloyd chirps, “he likes a bit of danger, huh?” A flat hand cracks against your ass, making you whine with your lips around Steve’s dick.

The sound of Steve whimpering is coupled with the snap of Lloyd's belt. His fingers return, and you just know he’s unabashedly staring at your pussy.

“Whoo-ee, if you weren’t already gaping for me, I’d think you weren’t into this. Put your back into it.” You hear the rip of a zipper only moments before the thick tip of him lines up.

You can’t help but moan low and long over Steve’s length.

“Baby?” Steve breathes above you.

“She’s fine,” Lloyd answers instead, pushing in. The head of him pops past the first ridge of your walls, and his hand clamps down on your hip, the other flat over the small of your back, guiding, controlling.

The spit of both men coats your core and inner thighs, you remember, and the slow swirl of ambient air proves it. That thought makes your eyes roll back as much as the glorious pressure of Lloyd’s cock filling you.

But Steve’s fingers find your chin and raise you to look at him, repeating his question until you let him fall heavy from your mouth and lick your swollen lips.

“Golden,” you say just as Lloyd bottoms out. “Fff-ahh.” You barely stop yourself from cursing when he thrusts forward and another SMACK hits your ass. “Golden,” you promise, because you know Steve is watching with extremely mixed feelings.

You return what attention you can to stuffing your mouth full. A rhythm progresses while you rock between them, but it’s too gentle for—of all people—Steve.

His hand knots through your hair to guide you faster. You have to plant yourself steady on the mattress, the knife digging into both your flesh, and hold your hips still.

Lloyd isn’t even fazed as he takes over his own selfish pace, his balls slapping so hard they sting your thighs. He keeps talking, too.

“See how much she likes that, buddy?”

Oh, that is not going to go over well with Steve.

“Bet she’d drop to her knees for you daily.”

He’s not wrong there…

“Damn, babygirl—“ Oh shit “—sometimes a bitch just needs fucked doggy-style.”

You can feel Steve’s chest fill to correct him, the deep v-line of his Adonis’ belt pressing against your nose to cut off your air, but Lloyd purposefully slams into you. You lurch forward to deep-throat Steve with a scream of alarm, and the constriction nearly topples Steve over the edge.

Just for a moment, his hand holds you down, choking you. It’s Steve choking you on his dick, and your nails happily dig into his meaty thighs. You’ve dreamed of this day.

With a strangled sound, Steve pulls you off him, strings of spit drip from your abused mouth. You’re gasping for air but also not done enjoying yourself, so you lick and kiss up Steve’s length until ready to take him again.

All the while, Lloyd darkly chuckles and kneads at your ass.

When one spanking lands so hard that you cry out, Steve bucks down your throat and punches the bed, clearly torn between sensation and situation. 

“Such an asshole,” he grits through clenched teeth. 

“Oh,” Lloyd tuts, “she wants it in the ass? Well, when in Rome…” He swipes his thumb over the cream pooling at the base of his cock and shoves his thumb hard against your puckered hole. 

Honestly, you have no idea if it even breached because you scream and fall forward on Steve's dick. This time, Steve comes with a roar, a raging, animalistic thing you have never heard before, but you’re pulled away just as fast. 

Lloyd hauls you up to his chest, telling you to look at what a fucking mess your husband is for you. Steve desperately grips himself until it’s over, half his spend glistening on his abs, half rolling down your chin while Lloyd continues to thrust into your sweet spot.

He’s given up controlling his language entirely.

“Fuck, she’s close. Come on, big guy—“ he pinches your nipple and bites at your neck “—finish her off.”

Lloyd drops you like a stone into Steve’s waiting arms, and Steve wastes no time slamming his mouth to yours and furiously rubbing your clit. You’re so stretched out that three of his thick fingers feel like nothing until they curl.

This time you can’t help but shout your own curse. Steve just keeps kissing you, holding you two together as you writhe. You hardly notice Lloyd painting his cum across your back and ass but neither does Steve, it seems, because the next thing you know you’re laying beside your husband in bed while your guest grins in triumph.

“I’ll just take this,” Lloyd drawls, reaching beneath Steve’s bare leg to retrieve his knife. He slaps Steve’s ass, too. It’s as if Lloyd knows Steve will let him get away with just about anything in the post-coital fog. “Don’t want you to feel left out, buddy.”

Your husband makes no move at all except to kiss your forehead.

“How are you?” He smooths your wrecked hair out of your face.

“Oh wow,” you say with a rough voice and runaway breaths, “I’m golden, just golden.”

Lloyd grabs his water bottle, joking. “My work here is done, and you two—“ he swigs and swallows dramatically “—I don't mind repeat business from. Anytime. Fuck.” 

He struts to the bathroom, pants still undone and hanging open, uncaring. With a shout, he slaps the top of the door frame.

“That’s America’s Cunt!”

Steve’s whole body tenses. “I hate that guy,” he grumbles into your sweaty skin.

You snuggle closer, surrounded by familiar body heat and musk. “I know. Isn't it great?” 

Because it’s so, so true. There is nothing about Lloyd Hansen you actually want for one second longer than necessary. That's the beauty of teamwork: everyone serves their purpose.

Honorable mention to the line I promised but ultimately couldn't fit in (that's what she said):

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[gale-gentlepenguin]

Gale Reviews: Miraculous World Paris: Tales of Shadybug and Claw Noir

Spoilers below

-OH S*** NEW THEME SONG AND WHY DOES IT KIND OF SLAP

(The image of Gabriel's life. Damn)

-Gabriel is a good guy and working with his version of the Resistance. DAMN

-NINO! RUN BABY BOY RUN

-Kamiko? so that is the good version of akuma?!

-Ubiquity is the Kamiko's name. Okay neat

-BETTERFLY! THAT GOOD!HAWKMOTH'S NAME. IM DEAD

-And the villains just arrived

-Damn this is going hard.

-Love the Miraculous world intro

-And back to our world

-Okay so this is taking place AFTER destruction, since the miraculous are not rings yet

-Gabriel almost went into his son's room. almost. Adrien processing a long day (likely the fact that he CATACLYSMED SOMEONE) This would make for a good au later

-Could we be getting ADRIEN CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT! -Adrien having legit concerns over his power that actually makes sense? Good to see

-Plagg doing his best to help Adrien cope.

-Alyanette is good as usual

-tikki no!

-Cute little Tom Sabine moment. (LUCKY TOM)

-Alya's in pain (cause of the oh no)

-Seriously this all happened in the span of one night!

-Betterfly arrives,

-Also, seems the Kamiko in this case can impact MULTIPLE version. At least in alya's case

-That costume is dope

-Betterfly not knowing in this world HE'S the asshole

-Also Betterfly's design isnt bad. I accept it. Still weird cause its gabe tho

-THEY KILLED MAX? WAIT IS MAX THE AI. I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS

-OH NO CLAW NOIR AND SHADYBUG SLAY

-Nice to know Alynino is canon in that verse

-Shadyclaw arguements.

-Shadybug hates Adrien in this world

-Clawnoir loves being destructive, a nice contrast to adrien's current dilemma

-Alya covering for marinette like always

-Oh right, her phone is broken

-Smart move

-GASP THE LUCKY CHARMS ARENT ALL WEAPONS!

-Shadybug and Clawnoir should make out (the tension is so thick you can cut it with a knife) they are constantly arguing and its great

-CATACLYSM CAN GET BIG!!! OH F*** THATS SO COOL! (Adrien/Chat noir be holding back by a f*** ton)

-Tikki just sitting on this knowledge. BILLIONS OF UNIVERSE. (welp that is only half the amount of au's and what ifs I made lol)

-Tikki demonstrating what its like being a nigh omnipotent deity. (this is the first time outside of seeing their true forms did I feel this)

-The Supreme? Wait, the logos at the begining. Does that mean? the order of guardians is actually evil? Or is it like an Evil Fu?!

-Wait, so it isnt just an adult thing, if you are evil you can multi-use the miraculous but at a cost. SEE THIS RIGHT HERE WOULD HAVE BEEN A BETTER SYSTEM THAN THE ADULT THING! WTF?!

-So Shadybug and Claw noir ARENT the big bads they are just... lackeys? That is kind of lame, but if they are going to get redeemed it does make sense

-Ladybug out here being funny

-Claw noir got numb-chucks

-SHE SUMMONED A CAR AND KICKED IT AT THEM!

-CHAT NOIR FOR THE SAVE!!!!

-CLAW NOIR JUST TOOK A CATACLYSM...

-(Me with Claw noir right now)

-Chat noir making solid points right now

-Villains really do get all the cool s***

-OH S*** KAMIKO CHAT NOIR

-Damn so akumatization can be like in the blink of an eye. time slows down conveniently.

-Celesticat?!

-OMG ITS AN ANGEL CHAT BLANC (Marinette's ptsd should be kicking in now)

-The puns were great, and by by shadybug

-Claw noir litterally pretended to try and catch her then let her fall. Thats hilarious

-He was going to take her miraculous, that is amazing. They really hate eachother. She broke his finger lol

-Gabriel venting to his dead wife again

-Oh no, he is going to cataclysm the villains

-"As black as my heart?" Dude you are WAY underselling how evil you are

-The Supreme spares? So basically they are forced to do this or they perish. I see

-I love their arguements

-They went back to search the room, Alya really going through it now

-The Supreme, it must be Evil fu.

-Oh this is interesting, Gabriel was evil but turned it around after seeing the consequences of his actions.

-Shadybug found Ladybug's diary. Oh snap, she sees she was friends with Alya!

-Claw noir playing with dolls

-She read the diary and is like "That buffoon? REALLY ALTERNATE ME?!"

-Oh wow, Gabriel that is good is actually a better mentor then su han. (a low bar but still)

-Reminder that Plagg can be that insightful and also just as omnipotent as Tikki

-Adrien figuring it out

-The diary is cheesy for exposition, BUT shadybug's reaction to it is actually sweet. Marinette in any universe wants friends and to care for others. (my headcanon is that this is shadybug summarizing what her alternate self is thinking/writing)

-SHE FOUND OUT ABOUT THE WISH POWERS! OF S***

-shadybug going to double cross her Claw noir

-SHADYBUG GOT HIM!

-and she found out he's adrien.

-Emo!Adrien lol

-PLAGG IS GAGGED! The supreme is really evil

-Alya trying to get sabine's phone

-OHHH, he is wearing make up because of the effects of over using the miraculous! Damn thats a nice touch

-Emo!Adrien recognizes Emo!Mari

-Also Gorilla in white is so weird to me

-WAS EMO!ADRIEN SIMPING FOR EMO GIRL! THIS IS AMAZING

-This IS AMAZING

-Ironic that this is how we get the reveal.

-She can wish to swap places! oh s*** that is a hell of a plot twist!

-Wait something is wrong, that logo... Can they not use the wish?

-"Only The supreme defines reality." DUDE! DUDE!!!!!!!! The supreme is officially the most competent villain in miraculous.

-Marinette realizing she cant be an angsty bitch right now.

-Seems the miraculous is taking their toll on both of them. Damn this is dark and I love it

-Tikki blots on.

-Welp this is probably the best writing I have seen from ML in a while. I legit buy this saddness.

-Even Emo! Adrien is sympathetic and he hardly said anything as adrien

-Plagg Dagger's out

-They are both dying and desperate

-Monarch has shown up and he is up to no good

-And just like that Monarch shows why he is an unrepentant asshole.

-Oh look, Chat noir's nightvision is useful again. (It just took 5 seasons)

-MONARCH MADE THEM GIANTS! HOW DID HE EVEN!?

-I knew they werent akumatized,

-Alya being the MVP today

-Illusions, of course.

-I MISSED LADYNOIR SO F***ING MUCH (devours the ladynoir moment)

-Ladyfly looks really cool

-That is a brilliant plan

-The tactical brilliance

-Ladyfly was planning this

-Chat noir mocking Claw noir's puns is everything i needed in life

-Chat noir lost one of his ears

-AND countered, Nice try monarch. Nice akuma trick

-Took monarch long enough

-"There are no awesome girlfriends to inspire me every day" Rip to Shadybug

-Damn, Shadybug, that is a LOT to unpack there

-No matter the universe Chloé is always a bitch. (Theres the astruc stamp in the writing I expected. But honestly still a valid villain reason)

-This is pretty emotional

-Chat noir is playing Claw noir like a fiddle

-Claw noir is the adrien that never moved on from losing his mother. Yep, Like I have said, adrien has a valid reason to be evil

-A hero feels pain and wants to make sure no one else feels that way, a Villain feels pain and wants to hurt the thing that caused them pain

-"I dont want to be cringe." "Embrace the cringe"

-Adrien out here saving himself.

-Adrien talking about his friends because he DOES know them. THANK YOU. THIS IS WHAT I wanted.

-Shadybug, "I dont want to be cringe." Claw noir "It sounds cringe Im in"

-Shadybug fixed everything AND HER COSTUME CHANGED. I kind of love it

-THE COSTUME CAN BE ALTERED AT WILL.

-Claw noir's new design is officially my favorite. Chat noir iteration

-I think the good versions of shadybug and Claw noir might be my favorite costumes for them

-Okay so they going back now

-Also I just realize that these version actually KNOW the other's identities. yet their canon ones dont

-Monarch discovered the multiverse

-GASP! KAMIKO TIZED LADYBUG!

-My reaction

-Scarabella and Kitty noire universe

-Kitty noire's reaction is so lesbian

-ANIME UNIVERSE (this officially my favorite special)

-Comic book universe

-A Misterbug and Lady noir universe

-Betterfly being the mentor Ladybug and Chat noir really needed

-Omg the day is finally over

-You know one big plot hole is Monarch could have simply deakumatized Ladybug so she couldnt stop him but didnt. Cause he is an idiot

-And cute little alyanette

-LITTLE KISSES. Damn the Alyanette fandom is eating good tonight

______________________________________________________________

I stand by what I said, this is the best Miraculous world special done.

Honestly If I included it in my episode rankings this is easily a top 5 contender.

I now want a sequel in which Shadybug and Claw noir fight the supreme, because the Supreme sounds f***ing epic and evil.

Maybe season 6 plays into it. (That would be one hell of a season)

10/10 in terms of ML specials and episodes

It is a bit cheesy but I loved what I watched

[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

Kill Somebody Like You

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: strap in kids, this is going to end up a wild ride 😉 ABO dynamics (knots, slick, heats), (not telling who's what yet), serial killer/hitman Dom, mob boss Kells, blood, threats, knives, guns, fighting, inappropriate use of wet towels, sociopath Dom, drug use, cursing (duh), Dom being a little fucking weirdo, Kells ignoring everything, biting, blood tasting, heat blockers, slight control issues, self hatred, puns, boys being dumb, narcissism, inappropriate erections, stalking, talks of killing 💣 rating: lets say mature for now

Ideas helped by @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker 🖤

Name: Colson Baker AKA Machine Gun Kelly AKA The Machine Gun AKA The Gunner

Status: Alpha

Age: 27

Occupation: Boss

Address: penthouse at the Four Seasons

“‘Ow bloody knot’eaded can you get? Fucking Gunner? Alpha? No shite Sherlock. Course. Boss? Wha's tha’ even mean? Basically begging for me.” The man muttered as he stared down at his phone. He read back over the facts one more time before scrolling lower to see the picture of his mark. The blue eyes staring back at him from above dark glasses and through the screen were… shockingly pretty but he didn't worry about simple things like that. An Alpha was an Alpha was an asshole. An asshole who needed to be taken care of. That was his mission and his mission was all that mattered. It's what paid the bills and kept him from going off the deep end.

The message disappeared like it was supposed to. He only needed to study it for a few moments to remember all he needed. Normally he would have already locked his phone and put it away before it vanished but for the first time he couldn't help but linger on the picture. The Machine Gun was pretty for an Alpha. He'd been following him off and on for days so it wasn't the first glimpse he had but still. Those eyes. He was almost sad he'd have to ruin all those pretty tattoos and cover them in red but sad wasn't an emotion he knew. In fact the man in the shadows didn't think he truly knew any emotion, but sad? Definitely not. Especially not for a fucking Alpha.

The night was warm around him as he looked down at the balcony he needed to reach. Getting to the roof had been far easier than what he thought it should have been for a place that catered to such wealthy clientele, but it certainly made his job simpler. Of course the Alpha he was after lived in a penthouse- a mob boss of his designation would swing his knot around like that. Fuck he was tired of the damn cliches. He couldn't help but wish for one mark who was a bit more interesting. Maybe out of the norm, something fun and surprising. He'd still take them out but it might give him some variety. He never thought killing people would get boring but they were all the bloody same.

If not for the itch he so desperately needed scratching and the cash he needed to keep his wards safe he'd probably find a new occupation but the facts were the facts- he was a sociopath with a need for blood and he absolutely despised Alphas.

He didn't jump, not really. He simply stepped off the edge and grinned as the air tickled under his shirt. He was only in the wind a moment before his feet touched the solid ground of the balcony but it was long enough to prepare. To let himself slip deeper into the headspace he only allowed on nights like that. It was a job, but it was a job he desperately needed and he could only unleash himself truly when he had a target. He would sneak inside the flat and there would (hopefully) be a small fight. He wouldn't be leaving until the probably bland decorations were repainted in crimson and one more asshole who thought with his cock was gone from the world. As he started to pick the lock on the sliding glass door he had a small hope that at least this one didn't have the same stupid futuristic chrome tastes as they all did- but he wasn't holding his breath.

Colson sighed as he stepped from the penthouse elevator into his home. The lights were dim and neon but always on and he was fighting a hell of a migraine. He left them low and instead started ridding himself of his weaponry, locking his guns in a safe behind his favorite painting. His neck popped as he stretched it and peeled his holster off, letting the leather hang at his hips. Next to go was his button up shirt which he let hang open. Before anything else he needed a fucking pain killer and possibly a thick joint. Something had been messing up his system for days and no matter what he did his temples throbbed.

Col’s next stop was the medicine cabinet in his master bathroom. The room was large, mostly open to the bedroom, and perfectly cooled to a temperature he was normally comfortable with but something was making him feel warm. His skin felt almost tight and all he wanted was to sleep for a few days. It wasn't like his job allowed a break though.

The two opiates went down easy as he swallowed them dry and tossed his shirt aside but as he closed the mirror in front of him something caught his eye. A shadow.

“Who the fuck are you?” He snapped, all his instincts going on high alert as he turned to scan the darkened room. His vision was sharp but his sense of smell was almost non-existent. It was normally fine not to rely on that, all his other senses were better than most, but not in moments like that. He should have known automatically his home was invaded but he wouldn't act like a pussy about it. The only problem was… he couldn't see anything but the metallic sculptures positioned around his bedroom. “If you know what's good for you you'll fuck off. Do you even know who's home you're in?”

A soft chuckle sounded from somewhere. It was dripping with contempt and a bit wild. It sent a shiver down his spine. “Really? Ya going wiv tha’? ‘Do you know who I am?’ You all jus’ copies of the same arse, yeah?”

Kells furrowed his brows at the voice. Whoever was intruding in his home was… British? He didn't remember making enemies across the pond but he supposed anything could happen. “I promise you kid, I'm not like anything you've seen before. But you're welcome to find out the hard way.” He really just wanted to get it over with, this douche was going to make his night so much longer. With all the messy clean up and disposal he'd never get to bed at a good hour. It was already almost midnight. “Before I have to kill you can I ask who the hell sent you? I need to know who to ship your body to.”

There was that laugh again. “Ain't like tha’. I mean yeah someone ‘ired me but don't worry Alpha- it weren't another boss. You can die knowing you was the biggest bad around-” The voice went quiet before the wet towel he'd left on the floor earlier that day was thrown at Colson's face. He couldn't help the knee jerk reaction to catch it but the moment he did someone was grabbing his wrist hard and throwing him across the room. His Cali King bed broke his fall but it still knocked the wind out of him. Something was throwing him off his game. “Besides me.” The voice laughed maniacally but it was far too close for comfort. “If it ‘elps, me names Dom. But I don't fink it'll make ‘is easier.”

Kells tried to push himself up and reach for a gun he had hidden under his bed at the same moment but something sliced through the top few layers of the skin on his arm and he hissed. It wasn't deep but it stung like a motherfucker. “Not a fair fight asshole.” He cursed, trying to climb over the bed but the stranger- Dom, jumped on his back and rode him flat to the mattress.

Dominic was primed to play with his prey though the famed Machine Gun wasn't as fun so far as he'd hoped. He'd planned to draw out his game but his toy wasn't as badass as he was said to be. They never were. He pressed himself close, his knife in hand and ready to slip like butter through the man's throat but the moment Dom got a whiff of the bastard he froze. Everything froze. What. The. Fuck?

Kells was shocked when the intruder stilled, he could see a glint of light close to his eye and he knew there was a blade near enough to kill him. He knew he could try for his gun or attempt to grab the knife but he couldn't do both. Shit. He turned his head quickly and struck, sinking his fangs into his attacker's wrist but Dom didn't drop his weapon and he didn't react like a normal human would. He barely even moved. Who was this ass?

Normally Dom would see the moment as a comedy of errors. They weren't moving, neither was exactly fighting, and his mark was still biting his wrist like an overeager puppy. It was almost cute honestly but he couldn't seem to make his head work. “You smell like a bloody bakery.” He mumbled, pressing his face against the man's neck. His stomach dropped and his blood rushed harder through his veins.

Kells rolled his eyes as he felt hot breath against his neck but the hairs there stood up straight and prickled. It had to just be the cologne on his skin. No one could tell. No one. He could feel the fucker’s blood sliding down his tongue and he knew he was swallowing too much of it, only a little was actually drooling around his mouth like a bad porn star. He just had to hope his next round of STI testing came back clean. No matter what he couldn't let go. The blade was too close.

Dom almost purred. The scent of the man under him was cloying and heavy on his tongue like a piece of decadent candy but his pulse was racing. He couldn't deny the truth he could smell and he couldn't kill the guy. “Why you listed as an Alpha Mr. Gun?” He growled out, his rage starting to boil at the surface and fight whatever else he was feeling with the scent all over him. The half naked bloke mumbled something, his fangs tearing deeper into his skin but he couldn't make it out. He thought it might have been ‘because I am one' but he could taste the lie. Dom didn't kill omegas. Fuck.

A rough hand tangled in Colson's blonde hair and those strong fingers gripped tight before yanking his head at an unnatural angle. He wouldn't let go but he did look. His attacker seemed young. Soft. Crazy. “Why in fuck would you fake being an Alpha?” The intruder snapped, his eyes shining somewhere between jade and… red?

Colson’s eyes went wide before narrowing. There was something about the guy that screamed he was out of the woods. He knew he wasn't exactly safe but the knife was trembling next to his face and the heart beat under his tongue was hammering fast. He took a chance and let go slowly, surprised when the… Alpha? dropped his bleeding arm. The grip on his hair didn't lessen but still. Progress. He didn't know why he wasn't taking the chance to flip them and give the guy a few new holes but what he wanted most in life at that moment was sleep and there was a small chance they could get out of their mess without actually making one.

“Everyone knows I'm a fucking Alpha.” His tone was flat and almost growling but he didn't move to fight.

Red eyes narrowed to slits. “But you ain't one. You're an omega. I don't kill omegas.” Kells couldn't help but notice the strain in Dom's voice like his whole world view was askew. That could be helpful.

“Look who's talking.” He huffed simply and the grip in his hair tightened. “You're an Alpha about to kill a-” His voice broke off. Even to save his life he couldn't say it. For all anyone knew he was an Alpha. That would never change. Shit- even if the stranger didn't try for him again he couldn't leave him alive. Not with this information. “That's a fuck ton of Alpha aggression for someone who hates them.” He almost teased but Dom seemed lost in thought. Fucking psycho. The guy might actually bleed to death on top of him. But when Colson took a chance and looked down at the stranger’s wrist it was already healing. How the hell?

“Alphas are the bloody worst.” The attacker muttered and his voice was full of emotion Kells didn't understand. Alphas could be shitty for sure but it was far fucking better than being an o-... Whatever he was before he stopped it short with blockers. He couldn't sit there and worry about the self hating dickhead keeping him pinned down, he had to find a way to fight him off and end him for good. He didn't care how Dom knew what he was, no one could know. No one.

The body under Dom shifted, the long limbs going limp for a moment and while other hunters might think their prey was giving up, he wasn't so daft. The blade slipped from his hold as he rushed to move and grab the omega’s wrists but he was too slick with blood. His hand didn't close tight or fast enough and the lithe colorful body fully turned until they were cloth covered cock to cloth covered cock. Awkward. What made it all worse was the blood rushing through Dom started quickly moving south. “Fuck.”

Colson felt messy with blood and annoyed at the asshole above him. He knew he was worthy to kill for fucks sake. He was the boss of a pretty large crime syndicate- his designation didn't make him any less dangerous. Who was this douchebag to say he wasn't a danger?

A pillow slapped Dom hard against the side of his face but he held his ground and position above his prey. But he couldn't be prey. Dom wasn't like those other Alphas, he didn't hurt omegas. Ever. “Stop being a brat! Oi! No bloody pillow fights! Mob boss me arse!”

“Who the fuck even are you?” Kells growled, trying to move out from under his attacker and hit him at the same time. He was sure to anyone else this would look like a skit out of some comedy show but technically he was fighting for his life. Right?

Dom grumbled, the man under him was all long limbs and warm smells and too wriggly to get a good grip. He didn't know whether to tell the truth but he'd already offered his name. Which honestly on principle was strange enough. Why hadn't he given his nom de plume?

Kells scoffed when the Alpha ripped the pillow from his hand and tossed it away before he sat back on his lap and stared down at him. When he realized the fight was mostly over he took a deep breath and was shocked that he could actually scent something. It was barely there but sharp and sensual. It felt almost overwhelming to his senses after going so long without scenting anything. Was that… was that Dom?

When the omega started to calm Dom sighed. He could feel his body reacting to the fight and the man but he was trying to ignore it. He couldn't. He never had. He refused. No matter how perfect the mark smelled and looked and fit under him. “Dude. Are you fucking serious?!” Those blue eyes went sharp with a hint of gold and Dom’s stomach flipped. Now that was a beautiful sight. “You have a hate-on for Alphas but you're getting fucking turned on in the middle of a fight? Get the fuck out!”

If Dom could feel shame he might have in that moment but as it was he couldn't feel much but excitement. His hunt was over, he'd have to decline the job, but he may have found something even better than prey.

Before Colson could take a breath or react in any way the Alpha was leaning down and licking a wet stripe over his cheek. He meant to growl or snap or scoff, he really did, but whatever noise that escaped him certainly wasn't that. Without meaning to, he turned his face as Dom tilted his and their lips met in a harsh kiss. There was a litany of ‘what the fuck’ circling his mind but he couldn't seem to stop himself. Instincts he never had were bubbling up inside him. He should be biting Dom, he should be doing literally anything to fight him off but no. His muscles wanted to relax and he was warm and tingling somewhere he never had before. He knew later he'd feel sick.

Just as quickly as it started it was over and the weight was gone from Colson's body. A gasp left his lips as he blinked fast and searched the darkened room. Dom was standing at the door and watching him as he pushed himself up on trembling elbows. What the hell was happening? “You should stop ‘em bloody pills. You ruining ya’self.” The killer's tone was soft. Almost sweet and Kells wanted to shoot him all over again. Did he mean the pain killers? The heat blockers? It didn't matter. He wasn't listening anyway. “I wanna be able to smell you proper.”

Dominic swatted away the pillow that was thrown at his face. He knew he shouldn't have said anything but it was honest. He lingered at the entrance, watching the omega as Kells watched him and with his blood drenched finger he traced something on the wall just outside the bedroom door where the other couldn't see. The Machine Gun wasn't coming for him but just laying there like an offering. One Dom couldn't take. “I fink I'll keep an eye on you.”

That… sounded like both a threat and a promise to Colson but he didn't say anything back. He couldn't. His heart beat faster at the words and his stomach twisted in knots. He felt hot all over but he swore it was from the fight. Not anything else. Certainly not from the Alpha smirking at him like he knew.

With one last longing glance at the pretty omega on the bed Dom forced himself to step back fast and close the door.

Kells heard the intruder's running footsteps, the little bag strapped to Dom's chest jingling until he reached the stairs but he couldn't move from his spot on the bed. As soon as the door closed he could see what the man had been writing in crimson and for a moment he couldn't breathe or move. There wasn't much but in bright red were two initials. YB. The first Alpha his body ever reacted to- not that he would ever admit it- was Yungblud. A fucking serial killer. One with the highest Alpha kill count America had seen in decades. “Fuck my life.” Kells groaned as he fell back against the bed and covered his face with the closest pillow. That smelled like Dom. “Shit.”

Author's Note/Tags: @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @fenoy7 @cole-way-iero28 🖤 if anyone else wants tagged let me know.

Who knows if I'll be able to keep up with this but I promise to try. I've been desperately needing to keep my mind busy lately and @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker has been helping so much with keeping me creative and helping me come up with this (and other) ideas. I have a lot of it mapped out and I'm hoping to get more out soon but I won't give a schedule or I'll get overwhelmed. Heh. I really hope you all like it, it's a new idea for me. Let me know what you think 💣🖤

[sketchfanda]

A Little Moxxie Love:Stella's Hubris

Now call her a shallow, sadistic, vapid self absorbed harpy bitch (which she certainly was but few if any would have either the spine or the balls to say that to her face) but if Stella was chocolate, she'd certainly eat herself. Case being the absolute sadist glee and pride she felt in this little master plan of hers, as she sat lounging in the room of the hotel she'd booked tonight for herself and a very special guest. One she would very much take satisfaction and sheer glee in dominating and destroying. Dare she think, she might've been actually getting aroused (not horny, that's the commoner way).

Now why you might be wondering, well I'll try and keep this short, plenty of you are more than familiar and acquainted enough with the ongoing soap opera strife involving Stella, her husband and said husband's Imp boytoy. Suffice to say, and this is an understatement, she was pissed, not to mention sick and tired of the fact that the damn owl, if he had to go cheat, had to do it with an imp of all hell's natives!! Now sure she could just divorce his ass or hell just have him killed but then she had a stroke of genius, so she thought. She'd get payback by finding and banging some Imp's little brains out, thus ensuring the best lay of his measly little life and of course proving herself the more desirable Goetian.

Hey don't look at me like that, you expect me to make any sense of this swan's logic? It made about as much sense as the fact that for some reason their parents thought it'd be a good idea to arrange a marriage between the 2 despite the fact it clearly wasn't working out and that Stolas maybe might have been a closet case? But the point is she that she had gone and made these arrangements to have some imp brought to her at this little secret exclusive hotel for a night of passion. Which she was going to have filmed and photographed for her personal pleasure of course.

Hearing the sounds of the door opening, footsteps and a muffled voice, the fowl woman (pun intended) grinned as she got up from her lounging, looking herself in the mirror with a little narcissistic affection and admiration at the lingerie she got for this occasion. Just because she was going to bang some rando imp didn't mean she couldn't look fabulous after all, stepping into the boudoir as she beheld her lucky prey. Tied up with a burlap sack over his head as she pulled it off revealing it to be Moxxie of all people. Now I know what you're thinking but doubtful she even cared to know which imp Stolas was seeing so it was purely coincidence she got Moxxie snagged because that's how his luck is going here.

The gagged imp was clearly none too pleased, his muffled ranting pausing soon as he laid eyes on her. Going stiff as a board as he began to put the mental gymnastics together as to who she was but not so much the why he was here. Not helping the fact that for as much of an evil bitch energy she was giving off, Stella still did radiate quite a sexual charisma which wasn't helped by the ensemble she was wearing that just screamed made to get a dick hard. Or the rather sadistic twinkling gleam in her eyes as she sensually laughed at his reaction, leaning in close to caress one talon under his chin.

Stella:"Well I do have to rather admit, far as imps go? You're certainly not too hard on the eyes, rather dashing and handsome in way, cute even. Consider yourself a very lucky and blessed little one then because tonight, you have the luxury of sharing my sexual company this evening. We are going, and honestly, why play it polite, fuck and it's going to be fun....for me, I assure you."*The demon swan bitch queen all but reassured her captive beau for the evening, making it clear to him what her intentions were. Undoing her outfit enough to expose some of the more intimate, down right naughty sexy portions of her body before him. Taking delight in his reaction especially when she could the distinct bulge forming in the crotch of his pants. The mere idea she was enticing enough to coax Moxxie into getting an erection a very fine boost to her ego, as well as fuel to her own libido of course.*

With that said of course, the Goetian deviant woman decided she'd had done enough stalling and set to sate her carnal appetite, a nice cold dish of sweet revenge in the form of fucking her own imp boi toy. Running her talon down along to undo his bowtie and unbutton his shirt, licking her beak at the sight of quite a nice body for such a runty imp before she came to stop at the fly of his pants. Undoing it as she knelt down to have herself a better look see at the toy she would be playing with before she found herself getting quite a shock. Eyes shocked wide, beaked mouth agape as before it sprung out and stood quite the impressive length and girth she'd ever witnessed given whaetever prior sexual experience she had before and during her marriage to Stolas.

Stella:"W-well....certainly not a runt where it counts hmm?"*Trying and failing to sound nonchalant and unimpressed and really how could she? Thinking what the absolute fuck, was it possible for any imp to be so big or was Moxxie just some sort of mutant?!!*"W-well let's see if you're experienced enough with it to please someone like me, little man...."*Her bravado clear as day as she nervously grasped and stroked his shaft in her hand, feeling it twitch and pulse with every massage of her feathery palm and fingers. Uusing her free hand to undo the binds and restaints on Moxxie, after all it wouldn't do to not least let her gentleman for the night please her to the best of his abilities if he was tied up.*

If her hubris hadn't already been coming to bite her in her feathered and sexy avian ass, the moment she'd let him loose was pretty much it. She wasn't sure how or why it'd managed to come to play out like this but Moxxie was pretty much dominating her and she found herself loving it. Her brain and body alike becoming hit and overwhelmed with such unreal sensations of mind numbing sexual pleasrure she never thought imaginable and yet she was feeling it. Gripping and biting the sheets for her infernal life as the imp had her currently her pinned down, taking her from behind in the prone bone position.

Their bodies naked and contrasting one another as the imp's crimson red compact form flexed its quite surprisingly built muscles, his pelvis a blur as he thrust and pumped his cock away into the sloppy wet pussy of the snow white swan noblewoman like a jackhammer. His massive golfball sized nutsack smacking her clit as the bed creaked and shook from the intense force of his rutting as Stella could only make what could be described as some bizarre blend of the cries of birds in mating mixed with a porn star as she got railed by a well endowed co-star. The vindictive spiteful bird losing all sense of pride and arrogance, even forgetting what reasons she had for arranging this liaison or the fact she knows she shouldn't be enjoying this. To think a mere imp could give her so much pleasure, someone of her stature and pedigree in high society and what's more, she was loving each and every single damn second of it.

To think her parents could've gone and maybe gotten her this, this absolute unit stallion of an imp as her persona pleasure butler or something instead of marrying her off to a closet case!! She could've been getting laid around the clock and forgotten all about that nonsense about image, class and sophistication!! Fuck it she would gladly forgo trying to get all of Stolas' assets and fortune just to be a sex slave for this stud!! Wait was she really thinking that?

Of course she damn well was as she cried and howled for Moxxie to not stop, to use her as he saw fit and reduce her to his personal sexual plaything!! Make her his pretty little erotic songbird as he continued to fuck her relentlessly, no doubt the imp hitman was driven to try and meet whatever high standards the Goetian woman had unaware that he'd pretty much exceeded them the moment he penetrated her and took control. Her cries of calling him master and daddy in between her whorish, wanton moans as he put her body through a variety of positions she'd likely never experienced past the vanilla basics or whatever sort of sexual education her parents had provided her. Which knowing some nobles was basic as fuck which was pretty ironic given the rumours some extremely rich types were said to get up to behind closed doors according to movies like eyes wide shut but hey Stanley Kubrick was a weird fuck like that.

The Swan demon woman had especially found she rather relished the sort of positions that made her feel degraded, the sort fitting for the bitch in heat that she had been reduced to such as the mating press or doggy style. Even during the shifts where she was on top, such as cowgirl, she felt more like she was simply showing off for her new imp Daddy as she posed erotically for him and flashed her sensual assets before him. Making it known to him that he had her absolute devotion and belonged to him, mind body and soul as the pair went at it with their scandalous rur long into the night. By sunrise Moxxie had made his leave, the lady killing charmer limping slightly, exhuasted yet proud at the job well done at an unexpected mission being accomplished while Stella liad in the remains the demolished bed, smiling in a sexual coma made possible only by such an alpha male.

Some days after this secret liaison, Stolas was pleasantly surprised to find Stella had mailed him the divorce papers with her signature, much to the confusion of him and his brother in law as she didn't even include any terms granting her the majority of assets per the prenup agreement in their marriage. Just 5050 with equal custody shared between them in regards to visitation and parental supervision of Octavia and that was that. Millie meanwhile was quite surprised herself when she answered a knock on her door to find the swan herself on the other side with suitcases in hand. Of course one explanation later of course and the kinky shortstack wife of Moxxie knew her man's natural sexual charisma went and worked its magic once more.

[phantomphangphucker]

Phic Phight - Half(a) Fool Too Much

For: @lexiepiper @murphy-kitt @a-closet-emo @amabsis @lexosaurus @deathcomes4u @ventisettestars @dennyz-backroom @paenling @echoghost1 @ssprout @silverwing013 @mossy-covered-bones​

April Fools in Amity Park equals absolute Chaos. Especially when Danny Fenton, aka the weird pun-loving half ghost kid, is involved.

“So, whatcha in for, Fenturd?”.

Danny snorts, rolling his eyes at the jock, “you know me well enough, what am I not in for”, leaning back in his seat, “what really sealed the deal was me inconveniencing Lancer, you see….”.

—1 hour prior—

Okay. So Danny might have fucked up. To be fair it was totally one hundred percent Vlad’s fault. Definitely. (That was a lie)

Vlad had been complaining Danny’s ears off about the towns ‘weird fetishisation’ of his two halfs, so Danny did something. A very something something.

Bribed a few Neko cat ghosts to run around confessing their undying love for Plasmius all around town. Then tricked a very drunken Plasmius to chase a laser pointer across the rooftops; that way everyone would think Plasmius was a weird cat ghost, and thus living regular humans definitely wouldn’t be interested in that right? Wrong.

Then today Vlad tried to hold a press conference to ‘dispel the rumours about one of the local ghosts’, said rumours had spun wildly into half the town thinking Plasmius was a ancient cat god taking a humanoid form to woo ‘a mate’. So Danny tried to be helpful and possessed the podium mic to voice over Vlad so it sounded like this was a press conference to declare his undying love of cheese and only cheese.

The town would definitely not still be interested in someone who proclaimed to have a passionate love for literal cheese baths.

Except that had been followed up by someone shouting, “cats love cheese so is this your attempt to woo Plasmius?”, followed by the crowd whispering about the ‘town hotties’ trying to get together.

That all isn't the why or how of Danny getting detention though. Rather it was the fact that Vlad’s response to that question had been to promptly swear in Russian.

All it took was one “Пиздец” (Damn it) and Danny burst out laughing in shock so hard that… he got stuck in the microphone.

Stuck in a microphone during school hours… when he was supposed to be in Mr. Lancer’s class… a Mr. Lancer that was already fed up with everyone’s April fools shit, especially Danny’s.

—Present—

Danny shrugs, “so yeah, Lance had to fetch me out of a microphone while Vladdie snapped about how he-”, making mocking air quotes, “‘didn't know whether to be touched or pissed, Daniel’. I for one was very impressed with myself; both of my mild swear-related Russian skills and my messing with people skills”, and nods curtly to himself.

Wes chuckles a little, “you’re a little jack ass, but even I’m impressed you got mayor Bastard to actually swear”.

Danny finger guns at the wannabe sleuth, “and he did it in front of a mic”, then grumbling, “granted he could just blame me for that and say I was manipulating the sounds”.

Dash raises an eyebrow, “you were doing that though”.

“Shush you”.

Dash chuckles, leaning back himself, “least all I did was set the bathrooms on fire”.

Wes pointing at him, “on fire by making them spew literal magma. I’m surprised the schools still standing”.

Danny just looks impressed, “that was you? Damn. That shit out shone my whole ghost bees in the water lines”.

“… Didn't three people have to go home because of that?”.

Danny glares at the jock, “oh like you care, Mr. Got Kwan To Replace The Footballs With Explosives. That wasn't even original”.

Wes scowls at him, “well unlike your half ghost ass, we can’t just phase things through peoples locker doors or turn peoples pants invisible”.

Dash nodding, “or stab ourselves in the heart with a pencil to scare a sub”.

“Or swallow enough forks to violently vomit up forks in the middle of gym class”.

“I’d bet ten bucks you were also the one who made the stop signs start ominously walking towards parked cars”.

Wes rolls his eyes, “and that whole every pot in town simultaneously falling over and exploding had to have been you”.

Danny gives them a mean smug smirk, “hey if the towns going to decide that vampire looking ass is a cat god, then I have to out cat him”.

Dash tilts his head, “but didn't everyone drop that after, like, almost our entire class got both Phantom and The Box Ghost to also chase a laser pointer?”.

“That means nothing”, Danny puts his hands behind his head, “honestly? I’m more surprised that me parading Pariah around as my new dad wasnt the thing that finally broke Lancer”.

Wes actually slaps the back of Danny’s head, “I thought that was Vlad pranking you! The entire town blamed me for that shit!”.

“Why the fuck would you get me ghost adopted!”.

“I don’t know! That’s what I said!”.

Dash gives Wes a dull look, “dont you dare tell us that you're in here for something you didn't even do”. Of course weird Wes would be the one to get in trouble without causing trouble even on fucking April fools.

Wes huffs, grumbling, “well I did steal the G.I.W.’s new recruit tour bus in an attempt to make them follow a certain someone”.

Dash groans, “even on April fools you cant drop that ‘Fenturd is Phantom’ crap? Sure, he might be some freak ghost hybrid thing but come on already”.

Wes throws up his hands, “OH MY GOD YOU ARE ALL FUCKING DUMBASSES”.

Danny chuckles at his expense, “says the dumbass that apparently crashed a government bus into the cafeteria soup pot”.

Dash blinks, “yeah i still don’t get why the lunch ladies make the soup in a five foot by five foot vat”.

Danny shrugs, was it gross? Yeah. Was he complaining? Not really. “At least the G.I.W. contaminating it with cleaners got us out of eating it”. All three nodding readily.

Wes huffs, eyeing Danny, “what I don't get is why you even did that thing with Pariah? How was having a tyrannical genocidal mad man following you around shouting about forged adoption papers and trying to stab you with a sword, a good prank?”.

“Fishing for fresh gossip, are we?”.

“Oh fuck you”.

Danny chuckles and shrugs, “it pissed Vlad off”, shrugging, “plus, Pariah is kinda pretty badass. Have you seen his biceps? He has black-clad knight even”.

Dash quirks an eyebrow and shakes his head, “you could have just stolen the mayors bed, not went through freaking adoption, you weirdo. Point on the rest though”, and eyes his own bicep, flexing.

“Hey, I already did the whole fill up water bed with wet cement thing; the last thing I am is an unimaginative repeater”.

“I’d say you're lucky that didn't kill him, but if Vlad couldn’t survive deadly situations, someone would have assassinated him by now”.

“Wait, would that make you, like, ghost royalty now? You should totally boss Phantom around now”.

Danny gives the jock a blank look, “Dash, I’m not bossing a ghost around in their own lair, you dick”. Dash just rolls his eyes at that, while Wes mutters, “you can't boss yourself around anyways”, which goes ignored.

All three jerk at the door getting yanked open… by Pariah Dark, “I’VE FOUND YO-”, followed by a red blast shooting him away, the door swinging back shut, a bunch of thumping, a not so small explosion, and the door opening back up. It’s the FrightKnight, “I blame you for this”, he appears to be ‘dragging off’ Pariah -who glares dangerously at Danny- by the cape to do royal duties.

Danny grins meanly as the door reshuts, “I guess I should also mention some ghosts who really don’t like me are trying to make my ‘new dad’ take responsibility for me”.

Dash blinks before putting his head down on his desk and wheezing, “you really went and pranked a ghost king, you fucking weirdo”.

A couple more thumps make them eye the door, then the wall as the sounds seem to be coming from the room over now. They all glance at each other, shrug, and get up to investigate. At this point, how much more trouble could they even get in anyways?

---

Valerie was having a day, alright? April fools was one of the worst days in her opinion, and not just because of the ghosts being ghostly pains in the ass; no it was mostly Danny’s half ghostly ass. What kind of (lovable) psycho convinces everyone who sells salad to sell exclusively screaming ghost salad. And that’s not even touching him being responsible for her having to chase goddamn Pariah around and actually play nice with The FrightKnight.

It was like Danny’s goal every April was to turn the entire town into a hostage situation and blow shit up. At least he was also pestering that lying asshole Vlad, but still.

So now, just like every April First since she started being a hunter, she gotten shit-kicked. Normally she’d be cool with Phantom maybe coming and patching her up, but knowing that ghost, he’d clap her in the face with a ghost-shaped pie first.

And as if she could see the future, the classroom door opens and whoever gets to see her injured bullshit. Fucking lovely.

…

Annnnnnd of course it’s Dash, resident bully and ex-friend. Danny, the reason for all her problems today and ex-boyfriend. And Wes, the wack job conspiracy nut. Fun. Fuck the entire universe and Phantom too.

At least she’s still in her suit. That was something.

Dash, the ass, whistles, “damn, you got your ass kicked”.

She groans and half slurs, “oh fuck you”.

Danny finger guns while the three boys walk closer, “swearing at civilians, I like it”.

She wants to punch him.

Wes throws up his hands, “oh great the other teenage superhero that no one believes me about”.

Earning a round of, “shut up, Wes”, from everyone.

Danny shrugs, leaning down, “but hey, from one Wes victim to another, let’s get you to not be a blood fountain”.

No one says or does anything for a second before Valerie cautious speaks up, “are you trying to fix things for once? On April fools?”.

“Hey it’s not that weird”.

Everyone shouting, “Yes it is!”, isn’t surprising.

Danny pouts, “fine, I’m doing this weirdly then. Give me your scanner”.

Valerie sighs, “this might as well happen”.

Dash sounds more cautious than she had, “what are you going to do with it”.

“Possess it and jump start healing”.

Dash quirks an eyebrow, “after you got detention for getting stuck in a microphone?”.

“Oh it’ll be fine”.

… it was not fine.

Danny’s voice comes out through the scanner. “Uh. I’m stuck again. Oops?”.

Everyone facepalms.

Valerie sighs, granted Danny had jumpstarted her suits healing to a weird degree but for fucks sake. At least she could fix this easily, a couple taps and boom! one half ghost ex gets ejected.

Danny just blinks from where he landed on his ass on the floor, “huh. Well that was convenient”.

Valerie grumbles from the floor, “convenient my ass. One of the most pain in the ass ghosts in this town has a thing for overshadowing, protecting myself against that is common sense”.

“Hey at least you don’t have cat ears-”.

She mildly shoots him as she stands up, “you can shut the fuck up, oh my Zone you are a dick”, and aggressively waves away the ectoplasm the boy had made form little cat ears on her helmet. She also decides to take the building shaking slightly as her cue to book it outta there; Zone knows what ghostly brawl is awaiting her now; the three boys not far behind.

The last thing they expected was for there to be a couple of men in suits flashing badges and asking them if they can help them find a certain boy; Valerie just chuckling awkwardly and flying off quickly on her board, the boys can deal with this shit.

Danny looking to Wes while gesturing grandly, arms still smoking slightly, “Wes! I thought you just stole a G.I.W. vehicle not a standard government vehicle!”.

“I did!”.

One of the men clears their throat, “actually, we’re looking for Daniel Fenton”.

Danny drops his arms, “ah”, blinking, “Fuck”, and turns to book it down the hallway.

Dash crouches on his heels, wheeze laughing, “the Hell else did you do, Fentwink!”, wheezing some more, “you did some crazy shit, some stupid shit, and some hilarious shit; but what did you do to get arrested by the government”. Wes rubs his eyes, “why do I even try to get him in trouble? He’s doing it all on his own”.

Danny, for whatever reason, doesn’t try to phase or fly off -likely not wanting to flaunt his ghostliness too much to outsiders- and thus gets tackled to the ground. One of the agents snapping, “Daniel Fenton, you’re under arrest for hacking your way into presidency”.

Danny blinks, “… TUCKER! YOU DICK!”.

Said geeks voice comes through the -hacked- speaker system, “how was I supposed to know hacking the federal government was a bad idea? Don't you want to be able to say you took over the country before the fruitloop could?”.

The government agents look like they’re trying to not be swayed by this, though it was an… interesting attempt out of being arrested. All their proof led back to Daniel not this Tucker though. Eh they’ll let their boss figure it all out.

-

Tucker winces, watching Danny glare bloody murder at the school cameras while being carted off by government agents. He looks to Sam from their spot up in the school ceiling, “do you think I should just bite the bullet and show him Phantom’s fursona that I got on the evening newspapers front page?”.

Sam glares, “what did you ask the artist to make him”.

“…”, Tucker looks down and sighs in defeat, “a badger”.

“You’re fucking Dead”.

(Danny -as Phantom- did, in fact, kick his ass later while throwing newspapers at him and chasing him around town)

---

William Lancer sighs, taking a seat with his tea, unfolding the evening news. Figured that on April fools the paper would choose to run a, freakishly well done, anthropomorphic version of the local town hero ghost. “Hopefully there’s something in here I can use as a creative writing punishment”.

Lance Thunder chuckles hollowly, “those teens giving you trouble? I saw what that Daniel boy did with the mayors mic”.

William grimaces, “that wasn't even the worst of it. When I finally gave him a detention he ate my tie. He vomited forks on the gym teacher earlier”.

Mr. Thunder grimaces, “that boy is a menace. They give you a pay raise yet?”.

“Ha. As if”.

“Same”, Mr. Thunder puts a hand to his chest, “and I have to report on all this mess tomorrow. Someone glued a bunch of hair to hotdogs and hung them from trees; the smell was nauseating. And that magma river from Casperhigh? Who even did that?”.

William sighs, “Dash, the quarter back. He got detention, for once, too. I can’t exactly make him clean up magma, so I think I’m going to make him sweep up all the whisp ghost spit up”, shaking his head, “if I made Daniel do that, he’d roll around in it”.

“My hair could never”.

William nods slowly, though pausing with his tea cup to his lips as the two Lance’s stare at a government vehicle going by with a seemingly arrested Daniel sitting in it and kicking the window bars while growling like a feral animal.

Both Lance’s blink, “what did he do now”.

Sam running by glances over, huffing, “Tucker made him the president of the United States”.

Lance Thunder pulling out his note pad, sounding defeated, “guess I know tomorrows main story: ‘Underage, Under-Alive, and Undervoted: Half Dead Local Becomes President, Voting Rights Hacked’”.

William Lancer nodding, “and I know his most recent excuse for ditching detention: ‘sorry I was busy getting arrested for being the president of the United States’”.

They eye each other and sigh, continuing non with their respective drinks and trying to have a little bit of peace for a bit.

End.

Prompts: - Danny learns how to possess inanimate objects. It’s all fun and games until he gets stuck… and People know Danny Fenton is half ghost but don’t know he’s Phantom. and When Valerie found herself stumbling into the first empty classroom she could find, bleeding and woozy, she did not expect to see a pair of shoes waltz up to her spot on the floor calmly. She was grateful they hadn’t started screaming, and looked up at her possible ally. When she saw who they were, she cursed her luck (and Phantom, too, for good measure). and People and ghosts in Amity (for whatever reason) find both Vlad and Plasmius to be attractive, so Vlad goes to Danny to help and help he does! (He makes everything worse, for Vlad that is) and Tucker fucked up. Hard. But it’s like, how the hell was he supposed to know that hacking the federal government was a bad idea? and Tucker commissions a very good artist to design Danny Phantom a fursona. and Danny decides Pariah is adopting him. Maybe Danny fell into the keep, and open the coffin out of curiosity. Upon seeing Pariah, Danny makes him ghost dad. Maybe to get Vlad off his case by having a scarier dad, but maybe cause pariah looks cool in the eyes of a teenager? Doesn't need to be Pariah redemption. and It’s annual Casper High April Fools Prank War. It’s a day friendships are broken and not even the teachers are safe. Dash, Wes and Danny talk about what did they do to get detention in a day that has no laws. and Danny commits harmless poltergeist mischief (read: cat behavior) around the town, or is otherwise an absolute Creature. and Danny finds out Vlad knows Russian. How? Well, Vlad swore in his native langue not realizing that Danny has been slowly teaching himself Russian (so he’s that much more ready to be on the ISS) and he started with the swears because he’s a teenager. and Everyone knows that cats go crazy for laser-pointers- but what do ya know, they work on ghosts too! and For two men who share similar names, that wasn't what Mr. Lancer and Lance Thunder connected over. There is Amity and there are ghosts and *they do not get paid enough for this shit*. (Share a rapport, friendship, relationship, whatever, go for it) and “Oops”

[fully-caulked-wagon]

Some of my favourite lines from my plans for shitty One Piece / Zosan drawings + fanfics Part 5

Oh noooo, I'm still here. (You can't kill me) law kinda interrupts like 'if you would do the honour of cutting your argument short, we have to depart soon, and your captain is starting to gnaw on the grass out of sheer gluttonous hunger, so if everyone could get to their posts before your navigator's head starts erupting with lava, that'd be great' - Bro's just tired, man. He didn't ask for this shit. sanji's kinda bleary as he comes to and he's like 'first of all, why the hell have you bastards kidnapped me?! second of all, why am i tied to a chair?' - This wasn't intentional but now every time I go back to this all I can think of is Sam from TGWDLM goin "Charlotte, baby, where am I, why am I tied to a chair?" the dude's like 'alright, slow down swirlylocks' sanji's like '…my hair isn't swirly' the dude's like 'shut up.' - Guy just needed the pun, leave him be. the other three are kinda like oy vey and one's like 'go get that damn manual, you buffoon. you must'a did it all kinds'a wrong if the person you tied up is complaining about the quality of your work!' - He's trying his best, alright? sanji's like '…that's a porn book. the naked people are naked cause it's porn.' the dude's like 'ohhh…' then he's like 'oh!' and chucks the book/comic thing away - Egads! after a few seconds he can only kinda weakly mutter out 'you're gonna... pay for... this' before he blacks out again as they all laugh insert full house music - Everywhere you look, everywhere you go, there's a face, of somebody who needs you- the childhood friend dude shows up at the railing off'a like, idk a fucking jetski or some shit - probably just a boat idk - Guy's a little wacky with it, shit happens. the childhood friend dude raises an eyebrow and smirks bemusedly like 'seriously, you're a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an igneous, dude' - Literally just quoting mlp at this point, boys 👍

zoro's fuckin dumbfounded and is just kinda dimly like 'y… you said all that about me, cook?' sanji turns to face zoro and is still bright red like 'shut the fuck up right now or i'll shove my foot so far up your ass you'll think you grew a second spine and i'll be wearing your tiny, mossy brain like an anklet' zoro huffs an amused breath, although still a bit shell-shocked, while ray's like 'oh yeah, he also said that your shoes are untied' zoro looks down at his shoes like 'huh?' - 1. Ray's the 'childhood friend dude' 2. He listed off a bunch'a shit Sanji had told him in letters. 3. 🤨🤨 nami just puts up an a-okay sign like 'don't care, sanji' robin just smiles and goes 'i can say with utmost certainty that they are in fact pieces of clothing that you are currently wearing, sanji' - R.I.P then law just fuckin shows up outta nowhere and they're all like 'wtf' - Uh-oh, surprise Law event. law just kinda grimaces, briefly glancing at luffy who's sorta struggling like a cockroach - He's a creature. A li'l guy, if you will.

luffy just mopes like 'but namiiii~ it looked like food, and i was hungryyy' usopp's just exhasperated like 'it was clearly made of polystyrene' luffy's like 'so?!' usopp's like 'polystyrene is not food!' luffy's just like 'you don't know that! just cause it made me throw up doesn't mean it wasn't food! lots of things can make you throw up! lobsters, crabs, goats!' - Nothing will stop me from constantly referencing everything all the time. (The 'lobsters, crabs, goats' part is in reference to TTO). 'also who're you calling uptight and swirly?!' zoro gets annoyed as well, smirking, and they do the head bonk grr thing, like 'who do you think, ammonite brows? you've got a stick shoved so far up your ass it got lost and bent itself over your eyes!' - Oof. and it's just a bit like crackaboom uh oh we can't deal with this well - Hate when that happens. and the dude's like 'not much' then he calls over this servant or whatever from their gang and bites his fucking fingers off - Really hate when that happens. then his eye gets like, sparkles in it, and he straight up explodes - Lost another one 😔

and zoro just kinda looks at his ass then narrows his eyes sorta fry-like and goes 'mhm…' - I call this piece 'Contemplation of a posterior.', the bidding will start at [REDACTED] zoro's off to the side having heart palpitations or some shit - Bitches and their heart problems, I swear. usopp, luffy, chopper and franky are just annoyed screaming while sanji's like 'JUST DIE ALREADY!' - Zoro is no longer held in high esteem by the council. then sanji's got a gun in one hand and it's straight up in zoro's mouth and he's still gripping the robe with the other hand and he's like 'I'M TELLING YOU-' - The idea of everything being relatively normal before one character suddenly has a gun and is threatening another out of nowhere is a brain worm that I can't remove. snooj blush more die sink down floor dead zoor like wha - wha then sanji goes 'so how'd you meet levy?' gajeel's like '…' then kinda like '…i crucified her' and sanji's just like 'excuse me-' - And that's how I met your mother. sanji just groans in agony and slumps down further before melting into goo (lesgooooo) - Lesgooooo and they flip over to brook and rip his whole fucking outfit into two equal sides and he's like 'yoho?!' then tiny text 'oh my?!' - Oh my. then he does like that fist pump thing and exhaling out his nose komi-san style and he's confident < - fool - 🫵 Fool.

[one-winged-dreams]

ALL EVEN NUMBERS FOR AZUL GOOOOO

@sosoftandsweet

GAHHHHH I'M ABOUT TO GO HAM ON THIS LMAO

Was your FO immediately receptive of your advances, or visa versa, or was that something that came with time?

Azul was ambivalent based on his judge of Sol's character. He was damaged goods, so was he even worth interacting with? Should he try to kill him? But he's also fucking insane, and that's kinda fun. Guess I'll just let him hang around if he wants, idfk... And then proceeded to get attached to the point of RAGING jealousy if anyone else fucked with Sol. HE'S the only one allowed to fuck with him dontchaknow. Now he's just super fun to watch and be around, and he's just so damn CUTE, AUUUGH.

No couple is going to agree 100% of the time. What is the main source of any disagreement between you? Is it the same topic for all parties, or do you have different sticking points? Has this ever caused a row?

Sol would never in a million years disagree with Azul, but the shards of rage do flare up from time to time and he's just like "FightmefightmefightmefightMEFIGHTME." but like... In a weird affectionate sort of way? While still being angry? Like, I'M SO ANGRY YOU AREN'T KNOCKING ME TO THE FLOOR RIGHT NOW. And Azul isn't ALWAYS receptive, so Sol would aggressively follow him around, fuming and bonking his head against him askjgh. And either Azul would end up finding it cute, or he'd get angry too and be like "FINE, LET'S GO THROW DOWN, GOD."

Your FO is having an awful day and wants to throw it all in and just give up. It is your job to bring them around and help them believe in themselves again. How do you do it?

Azul absolutely does not give up on anything ever, but he does get moody. Especially back when the Restrictors were a thing. Sol proceeds to make a nuisance of himself asking Azul if there's ANYYYTHING he can do. Anything at all. Please ask me to do something for you. If Azul is feeling up to it, they request either a sparring session or a mission together. Nothing more cathartic than beating people up, even if it's each other.

Last time we asked how quickly your FO came to trust you. This time we want to know: How quickly did you come to trust your FO? Was it an instant thing, or did they have to really work to get through your barriers so you could open yourself up to them completely?

I still am mulling over the timelines, but I want to say Sol "joined" Deepground before Azul, he was just kind of on standby. He was absolutely considered one of the colored Tsviets, the Restrictors just didn't like using him because he was so broken. When Azul came along and he got to interact with him for the first time, the Restrictors kind of had them go at each other for funzies, let's test out the new beast on the scrap project zero suit style. And then Azul ABSOLUTELY managed to bust his lights out. He was quite the scrappy boy, though (no pun intended), and shifted into one of his rage shards, launched himself at Azul, and got knocked back down again. And then got up again. And he got knocked down. And he got up again. Now that song is gonna be stuck in my head. Anyway, he was burning so much mako on top of the mako that was building that he evened out and just collapsed, got laughed at, by Azul, and shard shifted again, but this time with heart eyes. And he was obsessed with him from then on out.

Do you or your FO have any skeletons in the closet? Have they been revealed yet, and if so, what was the reaction of the person learning about the unexpected past events? If not, do you think they will ever be revealed?

They are both literal killing machines made by morally reprehensible experiments. I think the transparency is there based on -gestures vaguely- everything. However, if they were to find each other's files, I think it would go like this.

Sol would obsessively pore over every detail, the fact that Azul was kidnapped by Shinra, killed his kidnappers, and then decided "Wait, I want in on this action" and went BACK to Shinra to volunteer himself would drive him fucking nuts. And the fact that he killed all the other behemoth experiments (minus you lmao) would have his head spinning with adoration. Like, wow, Azul is so strong, only someone so strong could do what he did, I love him I love him I love him I lo-

Azul would find it HILARIOUS that Sol had volunteered himself to a project without knowing the finer details of it. The fact that he basically got trapped into brutal experimentation, the reports of his gradual descent until the sudden absolute sundering of his mind turning him into an aberrant lunatic that killed the ones that had done it to him, and the decision to totally scrap him by handing him off to Deepground because he was too much trouble and not nearly useful enough? What a guy, just an absolute riot. It would probably make him TWICE as fond of him.

[fff777]

watched nct dream( )scape countdown live! this is my reaction part 1

so i know now that it's supposed to be read "dream escape" and not "dreamscape." the e has escaped.

i've been waiting for the subtitles for a while. i tend to prefer the youtube subtitles over the live subtitles as the live subtitles tend to be delayed and that distracts me from actually understanding who's saying what

i've never been big on noise music but i admit the dissonant 'noises' that are layered under smoothie are catchy and hype

they're back to their regular seating assignments except chenji are switched

renjun: click like, subscribe, and turn on the notification bell already in youtuber form

jaemin's just revisiting a lot of old favourites, huh. first was white hair and now he's back to calling everything and everyone sexy.

they all commented on jaemin's white hair

is it just me, or is chenle shy about making extended eye contact with the camera? he kept looking away while introducing himself

already on our chenji bullshit

chenle complimenting jisung's hair. you know...i'm thinking that chenle compliments jisung more nowadays. he still definitely teases jisung a lot but we're in soft chenle era now.

jisung changed his hair five times this comeback??? rip your scalp boy

haechan literally every time. dramatic ass.

they started discussing smoothie right after broken melodies comeback live :o

chenle randomly talking about poison and sos performances. he is the kind of guy to say it aloud when he's proud.

haechan explaining how this comeback was them just pouring content on us. the way he showed it did look like a meme and all the other guys were like "where have i seen that before" and he was like damn i thought i was being original.

their 2024 schedule is packed like tetris TAT

chenle: did we start 30 min earlier because we talk too much

reading comments and of course haechan reading the one that's like "mark show abs please"

production for this album took two years as in 2023 to 2024

jisung made a dumb pun and was like let's move on and haechan is like the hell we will, say it again you coward

jaemin liked it :P

talking about how the speaker voice sounds like chenle again

woo so i wasn't wrong when i said this was definitely a version of the chewing gum concept (the boarding school photos for icantfeelanything)

so the members did a survey/quiz for the writers and that's how they came up with a concept

commotion on the east wing over there because apparently haechan keeps throwing jisung's picture

jaemin hugging bunny stuffy and jisung hugging cat stuffy

dream: meetings are hard

once again bringing up the fact that renjun provided a lot of the ideas for the concept. the concept with the guys looking prim and proper in their uniforms but with beaten up feet.

the guys wanting haechan to talk about something and haechan threatening (renjun) that he'd reveal it.

renjun participated in more meetings a result of being more involved in the concept

jisung's calves were very sore for practising ballet for two days. haechan said that jisung practised ballet ten years ago when he just became a trainee.

mark overexaggerated his surprise that there was a body double for the ballet

chenle: jisung can totally ballet like that in real life though

renjun the one to bring up jeno's muscles

chenle: as soon as jeno's back muscles came up i posted it on every socmed platform jisung: you seem to enjoy the muscles the most

renjun and jeno practised shooting guns, but jeno said the recoil was just acting. so i guess it was just a prop gun but like, without blanks.

haechan: y'all looked cool from the side and cute from the front (about renjun and jeno shooting)

mark: what did you think about doing your scene in one take? renjun: i didn't for real though renjun said he was just focused on getting it right

haechan: the binary system was a numeric system created by a person called binary it's giving "the triangle instrument was named after joe triangle"

the guys getting mark to say his english line in unknown again

i'm convinced mark just tries to see the romance in everything and i don't blame him, gotta do what you gotta do to get by. basically he turned his and haechan's teaser into a bit of a meet-cute, saying how his character thought it was interesting that haechan's character wasn't copying the binary numbers down and he thought haechan was cute.

jeno: it was very fitting to give haechan the role of the student who didn't pay attention in class haechan: it's called method acting

they're sitting in a row, so whenever chenle is talking to the group, he turns his whole body from side to side

jeno on jaemin and chenle fencing: it's a fight between two cats

jeno casually leaning his arm across the back of the sofa

jeno: wouldn't the pill have melted in your mouth? chenle: yes, but it's a movie jisung is amused

renjun impressed by how chenle was able to make spitting out the pill look cool

jaemle did not practise fencing until they were at the actual site of filming

now they're talking about the smoothie individual teasers

haechan was splashed with coffee when the robber kicked away his table but he remained professional. the guys were impressed (y)

jisung really liked mark's teaser >3 now that i'm watching more dream stuff, it's always fun to see in what ways mark and jisung are on the same wavelength

so renjun plucked the flower to make a ring instead of protecting it

cat stuffy transferred from jisung to haechan

lmao haechan making jisung say the line on the prompter and the guys all clapping and cheering. losers lol.

chenle: jisung's cringe defences are growing weak

markren getting in position to watch jisung do something cute

jaemin yelling at jisung again for not doing kyu on the mouth

more markren with the popcorn (popping that corn, if you will)

jisung did kyu a second time and he still didn't touch his finger to his lip lmfao

the third time he did touch his lip but he didn't make the kyu sound X'D why is this so hardddddd

he finally did it after the fourth time. like pulling teeth i swear.

group kyu

haechan once again standing up for his monologue

on this day, renjun has decided to be benevolent and grace haechan with a response

first song: icantfeelanything

markno protecting renjun's tummy

party over in east wing again

this was jisung's favourite song :3

jisung: we have the opportunity to write lyrics for this song mark: so what did you do, jisung jisung: it got rejected

mark explained that it was blind test. so i guess some of the guys wrote lyrics and submitted them without their names

jisung didn't have time to finish his lyrics ^^;;

chenji squabbles again! jisung was saying he used to eat less sweets and now he's eating more. now chenle is saying that jisung actually used to eat a lot of sweets so is jisung saying he's become numb to sweets and is eating more because of it?

jisung @ chenle X3

jaemin: we can never grow numb to nctzens' love jaemin: gremlin laugh i wonder if this is his way of being embarrassed/cringed out

second: smoothie

renjun standing up to dance once again. he just feels music with his whole body eh

renjun censoring the dance

they did basically leak the entire dance lol

jisung: can you say this to jeno? things about behind the scenes stories? haechan: you can ask him yourself jeno: you can ask me yourself jisung thought haechan was the mc so that was why he was so awkward about it lol

jeno recorded "smoothie" for around an hour. he was saying how the word smoothie starts to sound like something else ^^;; like when you say a word so often that it loses its meaning.

third song: box

haechan: hey siri haechan: hey google haechan: hey bixby

mark: roar

jaemin kept whispering into chenle's ear when chenle was saying the best places to listen to box...they're trying to promote tds3 ^^;;

chenle: i'd like all 7 of us to be in a box together at least once

fourth song: carat cake

haechan's cute head bop during carat cake X3 you can't see it bc it's a screenshot but it was cute

lmao renjun just learned on this day that learned the meaning of carat cake and that it was not carrot cake lmfao

mark: haechan, what have you been tempted by lately? haechan: you mean seduced?

oh noooo haechan was on a diet so at renjun's birthday party he only ate chicken breast and an apple ToT that is so sad ToT

fifth song: unknown

jisung said that this song sounds a bit like jbiebs :P

jisung (lightly) scold mark for spoiling the dance, but it wasn't shown on camera anyway

mark and jeno worked on lyrics for the rap of this song.

this next part was really cryptic where the guys were discussing new things going on...except none of them really said anything lol