#the dog will not be denied his prize

[gofancyninjaworld]

Sometimes, translating the sound effects adds a lot

The damn dog ate not just the beef but the whole box! Packaging and all gulped down. :)

[crayonverse]

i need to mkae. m y own gacha react video so i cant stop being so sick and evil abut ein because noone gets him right . ramble in tags ok ay byteee

[bevy-obeyme]

Mammon Facts!!:

- Due to Mammon’s horrible tests scores, he’s actually lowered the RAD average.

- Mammon loves R&B music!

- During a chat, he also pushed the idea of a metal band, suggesting he is a fan of metal.

- Mammon is a massive fan of the Harrison Porter movie series ( a knock off for the Harry Potter Series )

- Mammon thrives off of being materialistic and often selling his possessions, one of his most prized is his car, a Demonio 666 Lexura.

- His car is a limited colour edition that he actually got in reward from Lucifer for working hard. During the beginning of the story, the former was not aware that Lucifer actually asked Diavolo to help acquire the last limited edition vehicle.

- He’s admitted to MC that he likes driving around mindlessly sometimes.

- Mammon’s favourite food is Instant Noodles! He’s willing to experiment all the time and confessed to MC that he likes to sometimes just eat them at night because "That feeling of guilt makes 'em taste 10 times better."

- Mammon is seen to be both a dog and cat person as ultimately, he has stated both answers in chats despite them being contradictory.

- Even though Mammon loathes to do it, he’s actually really skilled in embroidery!

- Mammon is not a morning demon.

- He hates anything related to horror or the supernatural! It makes him jumpy and tense. Whilst he continues to deny the fact for his bravado, his brothers love to see the lie fall apart.

- It’s confirmed Mammon sleeps naked.

[mikgreo]

denji’s prized possession!!

nsfw, minors dni.

a/n: thinking about how cute and submissive denji would be!! always ready to get a taste of his prized possession. this man will get on his knees anywhere, everywhere, always, no matter what.🧡

warning: exploiting, cunnilingus, dry humping, fingering, denji cums on your stomach and licks it off, also rubs his cum on your pussy, panty stealing.

“babyyy..~” denji whispered into your ear.

“no, go to bed denji.” you said trying to free yourself from his hold.

you two were at his apartment. you were too tired to walk back home, afterall the mission you both got sent over too had taken almost the whole day. you decided to stay with denji, praying all he would do was cuddle and go to bed.

“pleasee. can’t wait til mornin’ pretty.” he was whining in your ear. so annoying, but cute. you thought.

denji had been begging you for almost 20 minutes to let him eat you out. you, of course being too tired, kept denying his request. you didnt wanna go through the trouble of getting up and taking your clothes off and all of that.

“denji, im too tired baby. i cant even get up im so sore. i promise tomorrow, when i can actually get up.” you said, attempting to turn around so you wouldn’t have to little spoon anymore.

“so if i did it while you were asleep you wouldn’t mind?” denji said while kissing your shoulder.

“mmm nope. its better than doing all the work, i would be fine with it.” you laughed jokingly, knowing he would do it, but it never crossed your mind he would, right now, today, tonight.

denji didnt say anymore, so you took it as an invitation to let your eyes rest and get some long, well deserved, sleep.

denji’s pov!

sooo hungry. i cant wait til tomorrow mornin’.

he freed his hold on you waist and slid down the bed, onto the ground, pulling you by your legs to get closer, earning a grunt from you.

he didnt think much of this. he knew you were a deep sleeper, so he had no fear moving you as he pleased.

he tilted your body to the right and raised your legs up, spreading just enough.

he stopped.

would you be okay with this? is this rape? surely not. i hope not, itll be ok. something about this excited him, he knew you would never be really upset with him. it turned him on, seeing you when your the most vulnerable, taking advantage of your body.

he smiled to himself knowing everything was probably okay.

he pulled down your shorts. leaving your underwear on.

he stuffed his face in your cunt, deeply inhaling your smell. he licked your clit through the fabric.

he unconsciously began to rub against the foundation of the mattress. he tried to find the position where he could get the most friction in his sweatpants.

denji grabbed your panties and pulled them up, watching them go up your almost soaked cunt, sinking into the lips of your pussy.

he buried his face once again in your pussy, lapping up all your juices eating you like a hungry dog.

he pulled your panties off, getting a better view of your pussy, sinking in a finger inside your tight hole.

he curved his finger up and down inside taking his time feeling around and exploring your gummy walls, he pulled out and licked it off clean. moaning at the taste.

he pushed his finger back in while flicking his tongue on your clit, occasionally sucking it and rubbing it with his free hand.

at this point denji’s face was a mess covered in your juices. he was a moaning mess, his pants earning a wet spot the more the rubbed against the base of the bed, he had came atleast twice.

he stuck his hand down his pants wetting his fingers with his own slick, taking it up and spreading it inside your pussy, as lube. but also because he found it hot to taste himself on your pretty pussy <3

denji lost track of time, your body had came around 3 times now, he knew if he kept going your body would eventually squirt “or somethin’ ” (his words) and you would wake up.

he found it exciting not wanting to be caught. it turned him on.

he decided to finish himself off by hovering over you relieving himself all over your tummy.

as he finished getting every last drop out his red puffy tip, he licked it off your stomach, licking it clean.

he picked up your shorts and put them back on, but leaving your panties bunched up inside his pockets.

he layed back down in the same position he was in about an hour ago, and took your panties out his pocket.

he spun them around and the air before sniffing them again.

he put them infront of you.

“see that y/n? i wonder who these belong to ♡” he giggled, “they’re my prized possession, along with your pretty soaking pink pussy.”

im soooo sorry if this was something weird to write!!:(

ive personally imagined myself in this scenario amd would fimd it super hot if my partner did this, but thats me.

[monimccoythings]

Feral!Logan drabbles

Oooh finally did it. Couldn't resist to write some silly Feral!Logan drabbles. Wanted to use a pic of Hugh in the first movie but this one was too perfect for what I had in mind. I love this little feral hairy man.

Reader is female.

So Reader is a mutant with light based habilities. She can absorb electricity from devices and machines and turn them into blasts of light (kinda like Starlight from the Boys)

Reader's on the run from the American government, they want to harvest her powers and use them as a way of 'defending' themselves from mutantkind. For the last year she has been running. Right now she has crossed the border and is currently in the middle of a blizzard in the Canadian Rockies.

She's tired, hungry, cold and there's no electrical current in miles, so her powers are basically rendered useless. And they keep chasing. She doesn't know how much longer she's going to last.

Reader can barely see and trips on a branch, knocking herself out.

Feral!Logan has been living in the mountains since he escaped from Weapon X, probably in the 80s. Has no memories, no social knowledge, just survival instincts.

Feral!Logan hates when strangers enter his territory and refuse to leave. Those are his hunting grounds, not theirs. He swiftly disposes of the agents and approaches the unconscious Reader.

He feels a weird tingling on his chest when he sees the pretty human female laying on the snow. His fingers slowly caress her soft features. He decides that moment he must have her.

Believing her to be a mate for him, Feral!Logan carries her back to the cave where he lives, placing her carefully on the pile of furs he has collected from his hunts.

When Reader awakes, she finds herself laying in a makeshift bed of animal fur in some random cave instead of a government jail cell. She immediately panics, not knowing where she is.

She tries to leave, but is stopped by a wild looking man covered in dirt. Taller than her and built like a fridge. He's half naked, his only clothing are two dog tags hanging from his neck and some undergarments that leave little to the imagination.

Under all that dirt there was hairy body rippling with muscles more fitting of a bodybuilder than a man who lived by himself in the mountains. Jeez, you could grate cheese on those abs. Reader can't help staring.

Feral!Logan roughly pushes her back against the furs. One single hand is enough to keep her still, which speaks volumes of the kind of strength he possesses.

The rugged man starts sniffing her everywhere, her neck, her collarbone, he kepts getting lower, grunting approvingly. When he's about to reach that part of her anatomy. She grabs his dishelved hair, trying in vain to keep him away. He looks at her, annoyed at having been denied of his prize; but, surprinsingly, obeys.

From then on, Reader's entire life becomes that cave and her mysterious savior/keeper. He provides her with shelter, warmth, water from a nearby stream and food from his hunts. Feral!Logan wants to prove himself as a worthy partner for her, catering to her needs.

Reader didn't spend most of her childhood summers in camps to eat now raw meat, no matter how little Feral!Logan seems to care about it. So she teaches him how to light a fire the old fashioned way, lamenting she can't use her powers so it'd be easier.

And he freaks out.

After a while he gets used to it, he nearly gives you a heart attack when he touched it and his burnt hand healed almost instantly. He rumbled pleasingly when you held his large hands between yours, marvelled at his healing factor.

At night, they sleep together, in the makeshift bed of animal skins. His arm engulfs her waist, pressing her smaller body towards his powerful chest. It's nearly impossible for her to move away.

Like hell he's going to let her go.

[tojisun]

!! nsfw; threesome (the sex doesn’t happen tho LOL); shifting povs; sorta pt 02 of this

"do you feel nervous when i stare?" he asks.

it is a soft question, rumbled from the base of his throat tentatively as though not to spook you. still it makes you flinch, body locking on the bed as you shift your anxious eyes towards him.

john, he said when he introduced himself to you. call me john.

you were so enamoured at finally seeing him—you traced the way the skin around his eyes were wrinkled in his smile, or how the careful rise of his lips were hidden behind the tufts of his beard. you couldn’t even contain the bubbling feeling pooling in your heart, excitement and nervousness mixing in miasmic waves because there he was, just as kind as simon told you he would be. just as careful.

simon promised you that the most, after all.

("cap'n's soft," he murmured as he held your hand, his thumb swiping along the ridges of your knuckles. "he tries to deny it but we've all seen how he indulges."

he turned to you then, expression unreadable even in the absence of his mask. simon studied your face, searching for something, until he stopped—you wondered then if he found whatever it was he had been looking for—and brushed his knuckle against your cheek instead.

"y’ve got nothin’ to worry about." he met your gaze again. "he’d love you just as much.")

you never once doubted him, of course, but you’ve only ever been with simon. only ever had to be conscious of his gaze, only ever had to work for his desire—not that you needed to do much, or so simon tells you. 

you don’t know how to exist for someone that isn’t simon and his attentiveness—burning in the way he bears down onto you, pressing himself against your tender parts to devour your gasps and your whimpers. 

you don’t know how to be desirable for someone that isn’t simon.

but—

john looks at you like you’ve ignited the same fire that burns within simon’s eyes. it’s all so feverish, rippling in magnitudes, until the slow trickle engulfs you whole. it makes you squirm, feeling so constrained within your own body, like you need to be doing something more than sitting before john like a pretty prize.

too caught up in your thoughts, you didn’t even notice the familiar bearing presence beside you until a rough hand pinches your chin to make your head tilt up. you bite down on a choked gurgle of your surprise, trying your best not to react, but your efforts don’t matter much, anyway. not when trained eyes pick up at the tremors of your hands and at the way your breaths pass through in quiet wheezes.

simon locked gazes with his captain from the top of your head, but john only looks at him with the same small smile, the one that always spoke of how pleased he is. it makes simon turn to you, his own body thrumming with the muted press of his desires. 

“won’t you answer him, love?” he croons, pulling you from the depths of your thoughts—see, captain? aren’t i good?—and watches with nothing short of pride as you nod.

john devours the sight you and simon make with anticipation, pretending that his cock isn’t heavy from where it’s pressed on the inside of his thigh. 

he doesn’t even know how long he’s waited for this day; for the time when he finally gets you and simon both. all he knew was that the wait was torturous, tipping his desperation into its ragged course, forcing him to suppress his wants by burning through work with wild ferocity. not even his fist had been enough on the days when the need was yowling from his jowls. 

so when simon had finally stumbled into his office, his own body poised like a taut string, john realized what it was that he came to price for. 

he felt like a rabid dog that was told that he could bite; that he could sink his fangs into the soft parts of the flesh he caved so that he may feast. 

“yes,” you finally murmur, beautiful in your bashfulness, answering his question—do you feel nervous when i stare?—with honesty.

“y’r just.” you pause to lick at your lips. “y’r just so much more than what i thought.”

“oh?” john asks, intrigued. “and you don’t like that?”

“i do.”

simon and john watch as you clench your hands into fists, eyes ducking down again in your shyness. the tension is building, amping up heatedly, and they wonder if you’re even aware of what you do to them.

“i just don’t know how you’d like me.”

such a soft sentiment—you worry about how john would like you as if you haven’t been the fuel of his carnal dreams. as if he hadn’t stayed awake at night, holding himself in his fist as he imagined how you would sound when he’s taking you; how you would look when you’re at the precipice of your pleasure. would you cry? would you whimper? would you hold onto him as though that would ground you from the apex of your euphoria?

don’t you know? he’s saved every video that simon sent to him?

“y’ve got nothin’ to worry about, doll,” john grunts as he leans back against his seat.

he pats his lap. “c’mere an’ i’ll show you what you do to me.”

you clamber to your feet, stumbling over in your wobbling excitement. it’s endearing, how you’re just as much desperate for him as he is to you.

john tilts his head just enough to meet simon’s eyes, mirth building at ghost’s obedience. he’s been silent, watching, devouring the way you and john gravitated towards each other like a man starved. john knows what he must be waiting for.

he hums to himself as hooks his arm around your waist and pulls you to his lap, his other hand rising to cup at your cheek, desperate to touch you every way he can. still, there’s something else he wants to do. so he twists you just enough that your head is resting on his shoulder and tipped to the lone body on the bed with interest.

(simon knew it. you look absolutely heart-shattering with his captain.)

“you too boy,” john barks out, his heart lurching at simon’s full-body tremble. “don’t you want y’r reward?”

your fists grip the scruff of john’s shirt and he wonders, so choked up with his anticipation, if you haven’t seen simon like this. if simon was always the dominant one between you two; the one who always demanded things off you.

(oh but you have seen simon in his submission. gods, you have. and he was so beautiful then, whining to you as he humped his cock into the warm press of your walls, his face nuzzling the column of your neck as though that would muffle his pleasured hymns.

as though you couldn’t feel just how beautiful your perfect love is in the throes of his bliss, trembling, mewling. splintering, unable to force himself back into the mask of his indifference.)

you watch as simon rouses from the bed, slow like he is postured for his own hunt. it makes you ache, unable to discern exactly why all of you fit with each other, just that you do. you’re not even torn between who to bend over to—john had made sure you and simon knew it was him who will call the shots.

simon’s hand falls on the valley of your spine, caressing you, before he pitches forward, hovering before john.

it’s john who gives him the kiss—the reward, as sweet as eden.

and right there, as they lose themselves, you know nothing else could ever be as erotic as this.

me too, you want to say, i want one too. but they’re already shifting, muscles rippling, as they turn to you—a prey caught in between.

[crows-in-the-house]

Some Bill Cipher nsfw 🙏🏻 I want that triangle

Same anon. Same.

I didn't know if you wanted headcannons or a fic so I made general hcs. I will add a part 2 later with him as a human and a triangle

tw: slight gore, and sex over all, nsfw!

At first he would be really bad at anything intimate - too harsh, too sloppy, maybe too fast, too laud or annoying. But with time he will learn. Especiallly with you as his test subject! Not that you will remember that with your memories changed!

also, enjoys making your mind blank, it feels like a tv with static, it's so funny to him he can't stop!

He likes to shove his tangue in your mouth when you don't expect it. He towers over you, exploring the insides and biting on your lips, making saliva drip down from your mouth. Then he steps away and leaves as nothing happened

He's not really into sex, he doesn't get anything from it, but likes to watch you squirm and make funny faces so he can get down to it - at least he gets to mock you.

He likes how fragile humans are, the thought of being able to snap your bones with one wrong move doing your special time makes him going places. Of course, to your dissmay, he will share such informations with you. Wanna know how you could die now? What are the chances for you getting a heart attack? He will let you know!

And don't worry! He won't shut up during the whole thing! Really! He will talk withaut a break, constantly laughing at your attempts of making him stop.

He is into gore so will actively try to harm you. Don't worry tho, he will make your nerves drown in pleasure when he disarreanges your body parts and organs. Will also take a bite out of your heart, lick in between your lungs and try to stick his fingers in your hot throat. Doesn't it feel nice? Maybe he should stick something else in there huh?

He enjoys making your hair messy. You look like a pouting dog every time!

His hands are constantly roaming on your body, if it's not your hand, it's a waist or arm, or maybe the back of your neck. He likes to "whisper" (shaut and threaten) all the things he could do to you if you won't stop talking to all of your friends. After all he wants to you himself. Always.

If you want him to, he can act a little more caring, whatever that means. Of course, you will have to pay him back for that, but why would you care about that now? For once he will be gentle, confessing how good you make him feel, how adorable your emotions are, how cutsy (pathetic) you look to him.

Remember to pay him back later tho, all great actors must have their prize sooner or later!

Also uses your blood as a lube and drinks your saliva lika water

I think he would be a switch - either wanting to annoy you, being all bratty and whiny or trying to embarras you as much as he can, being raugh and mean, ejoying you obeying him.

Call him your god, your muse, your world, your life! Anything stroking his massive ego will get him rilled up. Drown him in compliments, show him your devotion and admiration, maybe he will act a little softer then usually.

Better be careful what you say during sex tho, he will ask milion questions just to get you under his control :

"Want me to stop? Really? Oh it's a shame you can't tell me with that gag in your mouth!"

"aww does my puppet want to cum? yeah? what would you do to get it hm? OH, EVERYTHING? WOULD YOU SHAKE ON THAT?"

"HA I COULD FUCK YOU SO GOOD YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO WALK FOR THE WHOLE WEEK. YOU WANT THAT RIGHT? RIGHT? HA! YOU GREEDY HUMAN, AS YOU WISH KID!"

he's into shaming and degrading his partner but prefers to receive praise, will get mad and raugh if you try to deny giving it

will pull your hair,

and your limbs, he may even rip them of just to put them back in

enjoys your cries, doesn't matter if it's from pain or pleasure

also doesn't understand what "too much" means until he's on the receiving end

not that he doesn't like overstimulation, getting unable to talk and move just because of you stroking him so good shows him how obsessed you really are with him! Please make him tremble and shake, make him beg you to stop, laughing and whining when you ignore him

Will absolutely lie to you and prey on your naivety - of course he can make you not feel the soreness and pain the next day! He's a demon, remember? All tiredness could go away at the snap of his fingers, that's a promise.

(Not a deal tho, so he ignores it the next day. Just to see your tired expressions and body covered in bite marks.)

Over all, he's a very intense experience.

[ghostsandguns]

König who didn't have an easy childhood, growing up with many brothers and a strict abusive father. Often being bullied because he was a late bloomer. It leaves him insecure and quiet, even when his growth spur finally hits and he becomes this intimidating colonel; his physical presence heavy with authority, an air that commands instant respect.

But then he meets you and everything changes. His angel, the light of his life, his sweet maus. He adores you and loves showing you off on base—pretty little thing on his arm. No amount of muscles could make him feel as powerful as knowing that a beautiful woman like you chose him. And he gloats as he watches his subordinates eye you like a pack of hungry dogs, starving for a taste of the delicious prize that only he gets to claim.

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes twinkle at the attention, or how you always wear those pretty little dresses when you visit him on base. And maybe, just maybe, König doesn’t mind sharing what’s his. After all, it isn’t to indulge his own dirty desires...no. As a good leader, he believes in taking care of his subordinates. And how could he deny his maus a little fun, right?

He likes to watch as they take turns, his towering frame relaxed in the chair. The only thing that gives him away is the bulge in the front of his pants, formed by the weight of his cock. You're moaning and squirting uncontrollably, as his subordinates ravage you. But none of them are allowed to come inside—that privilege is reserved for König alone.

It isn’t until they’re done that König gets up and enters your overstimulated pussy. His subordinates can only sit back and watch closely, as he fills you with his seed. It's a power move: to remind them he’s the one in charge and that you belong to him only. And when he's done he pulls out, so you can spread your lips to show everyone how it leaks out.

[cursedmoon-doll13]

Blackhearted

(Sirius Black x Reader)

Cw: Noncon, Angst, Smut, Afab Reader, Dark!Sirius, PnV Sex, Somnophilia, Unprotected Sex, Fingering, Crying, Forced Orgasm, Tender But Nasty™️, References to Alcohol Abuse, Reader has head + pubic hair, this got kinda bleak and depressing

READ WITH CAUTION

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: 12 Grimmauld Place is a miserable home.

But for now, it is yours. A lost and vulnerable soul, you find refuge in the owner of the house; a man as troubled as yourself. Unbeknownst to you, he’s sunken his teeth in far deeper; clutching onto you like a lifeline, and the dark, harrowing isolation of winter may drive him to commit acts unforgivable…

Ao3 || Masterlist || Dividers by @/saradika

In mid-February, it’s so cold, so desolate, it reminds him of sharp, icy fingers, clamping down on— His childhood home, decrepit with neglect and age, is the last place Sirius ever hoped to return to. It’s lost, crumbling into undignified ruins, deteriorating into filth. With his pest of a house elf still clinging to the old family values, it’s properly gone to the dogs, and he’d gladly let them pick off the carcass. 

But now you’re hiding alongside him - not by choice - you’ve taken it upon yourself to try and ‘fix it up.’ Sirius almost scoffs at the mere thought of it— At you, whose nose wrinkles distastefully at the grime and mould that gracefully adorns his kitchen. You don’t understand that the disease has progressed far beyond the point of recovery. It’s everywhere; it’s in the air you breathe, in the walls, in the carpet. It’s lurking inside the very infrastructure, festering like cancerous growth. The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, haunted by its rotting opulence: the decaying decor, the cursed, priceless artefacts, the tattered, hateful portraits, courtesy of mum. 

Sirius, who has long since forgotten the luxury of owning his own clothes, wraps himself in the same mothball ridden finery his father died in. Sometimes he feels— He’s eaten alive by the fabric. By vestiges of the past. It still stinks of stale drink, and on nights like these, Orion’s son glares down at the bottom of an empty wine bottle, and thinks that he might be following in his footsteps after all.

On a night like this, the aged floorboards squeak under his heels as he prowls the dilapidated halls. Sirius’ stalking route leads to you, as it usually does, far past midnight. Your bedroom door is sealed tightly shut - probably to keep the heat in - but you never lock it. As if he isn’t dangerous. 

Gripping the weathered knob, he twists it, and lets himself in. The dim, yellowy glow of the gaslamp bolted to the corridor wall is his only light, flickering as it pours into the musty guest room he’s lent you. Sirius lingers on the precipice, his fingers still curled around the handle, sobering up rapidly. 

Blinking slowly, he looks down at you. 

You’re lying on your side, both arms grasping the pillow, dressed in that novelty pyjama set (‘to ward off the draught,’ was the unspoken function of it) Tonks had gifted you for Christmas; a sort of consolation prize. Greatest sympathies, to prepare you for the sordid husk you’ll now inhabit— With him, no less, a man you thought at first to be a killer.

And you, well… You’ve been left skittish from whatever you’re on the run from. He reckons that’s why you’ve latched onto him so powerfully, hoping this unredeemed convict will see fit to protect you from the isolation and the horrors. To help fill the long stretches of time when it’s just been the both of you to keep each other company. Sirius can’t deny his own strong attachment towards you. 

Your presence is comforting, and he’s fallen deeply. Too deeply. It’s why he so often finds himself standing here, watching over you. Sirius envies you, the peaceful sleeper. But he also covets you; if only you’d stay and lay beside him, to heal wounds never spoken of… But he doesn’t know how to ask. 

Silently, he crosses the boundary. 

Rising over your unconscious form, he lifts the quilt, a heavy, lumpy thing, and tentatively rests his knee on the mattress. You sleep peacefully on, even as the rusty old bed-springs squeak underneath him. Sirius slides his exhausted body in behind you, and the dark mass of his own scraggly black hair spills over the cushion. For a moment, he lies there, unmoving and quiet. Even at this safe, chaste distance, your body heat, radiating off you in gradual waves, is enough to soothe the permanent chill that’s seeped into his bones… Sirius can’t resist. He shifts, before placing his forefinger over your throat. 

Sirius can feel your pulse, throbbing with blood; you’re a real, flesh and blood human, warm and alive. Merlin, he’s been deprived for so long, a strong vein feels like it’s a lifeline. This is all he’s ached for, but— No... No. He’s already overstepped a line, one he shouldn’t have ever— He needs to stop, he needs to leave, now, before this all goes too far and he ruins it; ruins you, as he knows he inevitably will. 

But he doesn’t. Sirius’ breath catches in his throat as he tilts his chin ever-so-slightly, and he presses his cold mouth against your exposed nape. You twitch, but do not stir. Sirius licks his dry lips and swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, as he nudges down the fleeced collar of your pyjama shirt with his thumb. The slope of your neck is covered in fine, delicate hairs, and he can’t help but smile affectionately down at you. Your defenceless state is sweetly endearing. To be so close to you like this, almost holding you, tender as lovers. 

Sirius hesitates, then, squeezing his eyes shut as he endures the lurch of churning revulsion in his gut (he shouldn’t be doing this, he shouldn’t—), he leans forward and plants a string of wet kisses over your bare flesh. So human, so vulnerable… You twitch again, shivering as the ticklish brush of his whiskers rubs lightly over your naked skin. Shame burns like acid in his stomach; but his need for you burns brighter, hotter than fire now, all-consuming… He heaves a jagged sigh, and, unable to stop himself, drags the starving flat of his tongue over your neck, lapping up hungry stripes of perspiration. Sirius tightens his grip on you and shudders with relief— He’s finally quenched his thirst, if only a little. Your intoxicating scent, your taste… 

He’s stolen things, too, before this; he’s not proud of it, but he’s done it. It’s convenient enough to blame it on Kreacher, who hoards all sorts of objects in the first place… What is the difference, really, between the Black family heirlooms and soiled knickers from the wicker basket? No, It hasn’t been so hard to convince you it was Kreacher; to lie and to fib— his old, senile house elf is simply a raging kleptomaniac… You trust him so much… And now Sirius has gone and betrayed that trust entirely. 

Merlin, he needs to stop, he needs to… This should be enough… No, it’s not enough… It’s never enough, he’s barely touched you… Sirius groans feebly into the nape of your neck, slipping the palm of his hand under your nightshirt, desperate for your sacred, lifesaving heat, just a little bit— And then he’ll stop, immediately— just a tiny bit more… You shiver once more, twitching repeatedly as the pads of his fingertips skim over your stomach, still asleep… Sirius brushes his lips over your throat again, as he locks you in wiry arms, inching up your shirt, exposing you to the dark and cold. He traces the slats of your ribs, searching further, until he comes to knead coyly at your breast, teasing your nipple. He dips, finding the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, thumping robustly… Proof of life. 

And you’re definitely real, aren’t you? Not a hallucination, not some illusion… He’s sleepless for the nightmares, but the dreams are always worse, because they remind Sirius of everything he can’t have, not ever again… But he can have you. This stray thought, forceful and insidious, leaks into the dark recesses of his brain. Yes, He can have you— It’s his house, his rules, isn’t it? 

Fuck, he’s disgusting. The realisation of what he’d just conceived of, even momentarily, assaults him with a new stab of remorse. Sirius flinches away, pulling his offending hand out of your pyjamas; but the damage has already been done. By now, he’s pressed flush against you, leeching off your comforting warmth, and his dick is straining tightly against his trousers. Merlin… He’s perverse. 

He throws his forearm over his eyes, blinding himself. Sirius intended for this to be a wholesome encounter, to be sweet and innocent. And now… Have all those years of degradation truly rotted him to the core? Is this what he’s become now? A lustful wretch? This has gone too far, too far— He should leave— 

But now, Sirius has known your touch, and it’s embedded itself parasitically into his mind. He’s swiftly hurtling into addiction; he can’t settle for mere table scraps— To retreat with his tail between his legs, only to find a cold and lonely bed, would be unbearable... Sirius rattles a breath, grasping onto that frayed rope of inherited entitlement he’d meant to cut off a decade ago— He deserves this one thing, surely, after a life of torment… Right? 

You twitch again, mumbling incoherently. Sirius grimaces. He needs to be careful… You might be a heavy sleeper, but he’s already disturbed you too much. If you wake up screaming… He wouldn’t like to think of what he might do. But he’ll stop— He’ll stop after this, he swears it to himself, licking his lips, feeling harder and hungrier than ever. 

Sirius’ forearm props up your leg for him to gain enough access, spreading your thighs open. It’s awkward, but he manages. He tugs down the waistband of your pyjama bottoms, just a bit, so he can touch you, feel you so close to him… Sirius’ hand brushes over a soft tuft of your pubic hair, and he twitches a faint smile… So endearingly vulnerable, before dipping his fingers into your pussy. 

You’re not aroused, but the heat of your core is enough to satisfy him, if only temporarily. Sirius hasn’t done anything like this for a long time; it feels unfamiliar, like all human contact does. He nudges away the curls, tracing your labia, before recalling the shape and form of it, and gently rubbing your clitoris. Fondness, mixed in with his sickening shame, rushes into him, and he presses his lips to your nape again, pleading and soothing like an apology. 

Then, Sirius bites his tongue, justifies himself with the excuse of repaying you with sweet dreams, and pushes his index finger deeper inside your pussy. He hums quietly, indulging in your little twitches, the way your walls flutter around him. It’s not particularly romantic to pleasure you without receiving consent, but lying back-to-chest in the darkness, planting scorching kisses down your neck, he can use his mind to fill in the gaps. Easing out his intruding hand, Sirius tastes the heady flavour of your slick— Merlin. He licks his fingers greedily, drenching them in spit, before plunging them back into your warm cunt, spreading wetness over your folds. 

You let out a sleepy whimper at his touch, and he pauses, going completely stiff with alarm. But— But you haven’t woken up… And now he’s uncontrollable, beyond all morality, relishing in your soft, breathless gasps as he toys with your clit, his damp fingers sliding easily in and out of your pussy. You moan faintly, and the noise vibrates straight to his cock. He’s throbbing, now... Groaning, he forces down his guilt and remorse, discarding them as trite, worthless things. You’re enjoying it, aren’t you? Though you’re still fast asleep— Yes, maybe you’ve hoped for this all along… Secretly. Secretly. Of course, you’ve just been too embarrassed to admit it, but that’s fine… Right now, you’re all his. 

But that’s still not enough. 

Sirius knows what he truly needs; to bury himself inside of you, to merge with you entirely, to steal your warmth for himself— This aching desire, it’s wrong, so revoltingly wrong, but so is he; the entire expanse of flesh covering his body feels like prison, mired in filth, and he’ll never be clean again… He only wishes you could alleviate his pain— Oh, but you can, Sirius will find solace in your heat even if he has to take it from you. He grinds his palm against his temple as he decides. He fights it, but his selfishness wins… Yes, he needs it, needs you— Fuck, he’s about to do something unforgivable, commit a genuine offence; but he’ll make it up to you, of course he will— 

Sirius carefully shuffles down your pyjama bottoms until they’re bunched up around your ankles, followed by your moist panties. He shifts, now painfully hard and weeping in his trousers, and allows your thigh to fall momentarily to unbutton them and release his erection. Rigid and leaking precum, his dick falls over your ass. He readjusts his position on the bed and strokes himself roughly, before hooking his forearm around your leg and lifting it. You jerk unceremoniously and mumble, stirring, but he ignores you— He’s too close, he’s gone too far now… Gritting his teeth, Sirius guides his cock into you, finding you elusive and slippery in the dark, but— The slick of your folds sliding along his length feels heavenly. Sirius licks his lips, smearing precum over your inner thighs, and finally enters you. 

He stifles a raspy moan into your neck. The hug of your tight, wet heat is almost overwhelming— Shuddering, he wholly eases himself inside you. Merlin, you feel so perfect around him… Sirius, gasping rapturously, begins to move, savouring every long, torturous drag against your gummy walls. You’re rousing, now, slurring confused murmurs— “What, what’s going on, hm…”

Sirius doesn’t miss the flutter of lashes, a sharp intake of breath— But he continues, regardless, thrusting in slow, tender arcs. Flinching, you let out a strangled, high-pitched noise, and that’s how Sirius knows you’re truly awake— But he’ll make it up to you, he will— he spreads your thighs wide, to penetrate further, sucking affectionate bites into your neck as he ravishes your quivering body. You tremble and shriek, and your panicked struggling fills him with guilty regret. But he needs this now, he needs you now, he’s been alone for too long— And he’s not going to stop until he’s finished taking you… Feverish, Sirius’ other forearm digs underneath the pillow you’re clutching onto, white-knuckled. He tightens his grip on you before he sinks in deeper, spearing into your intimate core

You whimper, spasming involuntarily. Sirius rumbles with approval, his lips still latched onto your throat. He grabs your thigh firmly, bracing himself against the old headboard. He growls and snaps his hips upward, hitting that delicious spot over and over, trying to elicit more of those sweet noises from you. Even if you’re being frustratingly reticent - too shy, he pretends - you’re still unable to muffle your cries, twitching and writhing in his relentless grasp.

The bed creaks noisily as he hastens his pace, showering wet kisses on your rapidly bruising flesh. His movements are heated and urgent now, growing increasingly desperate— Now he’s inside you, he must fill you utterly— He longs to feel alive with you, slipping a hand down towards where you join together and connect, feeling the way his cock effortlessly slides in and out of your pussy. He dips further to rub harshly at your clit, and you whine, arching. Sirius strokes you mercilessly, his wrist cramping from the awkward positioning— 

But it doesn’t matter, you’re spurring him on with your ecstatic moans, croaky with tears. He doesn’t let up, teasing in sloppy, frantic circles as he bucks into you, revelling in the stickiness of your skin against his; the lewd, wet sound of flesh-on-flesh is obscene. Sirius groans hoarsely, his hips jerking and stuttering as your cunt squeezes around his dick with his every forceful thrust— You are enjoying this…    

Fuck, he is too— Hot pleasure jolts up his spine like the tightening of a knot; and you, crying out with loud whimpers as your spongy insides clench and squeeze around him— Sirius can’t take it anymore. He forgoes gentleness, pounding into your cunt with beastly intensity. You choke out a sob, lurching away from him, but he overpowers and holds you down, still abusing your sensitive clit— He’s going to fuck you until you cum, whether you want it or not— And his hungry mouth returns to sink livid, red marks into your neck, teeth grazing your artery. Something in the wooden bed frame cracks ominously— 

But he ignores it, his breathing growing laboured and husky as he slams his hips into you, again and again, forcing you to whine until your voice breaks. You’re shaking violently in his grip— He can sense it, and you’re close, so close— He’s getting sloppier; rapidly approaching orgasm, and your reactions are boiling his blood, whipping up a primal frenzy in his brain— Sirius pinches your clit, and you climax. 

Your euphoric moan chokes into a loud sob. Sirius growls at the way you clench around him, and pins you down with his body weight. His hand slips and pushes your leg up high, fucking you harder still through your orgasmic tremors— He’s following right behind you, on the cusp— You’re impossibly tight—

Merlin, you’re so damn tight— Sirius barely remembers to— He pulls himself out with a heavy groan, and his seed spills messily over the inside of your thigh. Hazy static pours over him, smothering the guilt, the emptiness… As it gradually tapers out, he feels the absence of your heat, of your closeness, and it pangs like the pain of starvation. It takes a moment for him to recover, lying beside you, his face buried in the crook of your neck. Then, he pushes himself up onto his elbow. 

Panting, Sirius’ damp hair clings to his forehead, stinging his eyes. He wipes it, and fog clears, revealing only desecration.

As if murdered, you lie very still— Or try to, but your breathing is ragged and uneven. You’re glistening with orgasmic sweat, chest heaving as he rests your trembling leg back onto the mattress. You jolt, as if hiccuping, still wracked with sobs. Sirius’ heart aches for you— Merlin, no, what has he done?— He wants to take this moment back, but it’s too late now. The only fix he can think of is practical, like ridding a crime scene of evidence… 

Sirius pulls out his wand, flicking shakily, evaporating his cum, but the scent of your lovemaking still lingers, thick in the air. With as much dignity as he’s able to grant you, he tugs your pyjamas and knickers up your hips. He tucks himself in and buttons his trousers, swimming in post-climax numbness. For a few minutes, he resumes his vigil behind you, as if he’d never done it at all. But you’re colder and distant; farther away than he’s ever felt you. Sighing, he gently strokes your hair. You don’t flinch or shiver away from his touch, but lie still, perfectly still… Your tear-stained cheek is still stuck to the damp patch on your pillow. Sirius passes over it deliberately. You’ve been asleep this entire time, blissfully unaware… That’s a lie he’ll peddle for both of your sakes, until this all melts safely into a nightmare.

It’s agony to tear himself away from your warmth, but Sirius knows he’s ruined everything by violating you, and lingering will only hurt you more. He presses one final, adoring kiss to your neck, yearning to embrace you, then slips wordlessly out of bed.

To forbid himself, he uses magic to bolt the lock.

Morning brings clarity. 

He walks into the kitchen, and the stone tiles clack under his boots, echoing, echoing… You’re there, also, preparing a slow, tedious breakfast.

The silence is heavy. Sirius wants to break it, but the quiet feels impenetrable; a chasm of his own design. For a moment, he frowns, looming uneasily over the dining table, aggravated by the clinking of the jar as you spread jam on your toast, eyes downcast.

Then, he pulls out a rickety chair and sits down. 

You don’t smile at him today. You don’t return his probing gaze. You knife up more slimy jam— Too much, now, and the bread has gone soggy. 

If you’d only burst into tears, he’d gladly take you in his arms to hold you now. Sirius could be your solitary comfort, as you have been his… Only, your new, withdrawn, gloomy state unnerves him. His face darkens… Your bond has truly been broken.

But there’s something else, too. 

Remorse gnawed his flesh until daybreak, and was scarred over by something cruel and hard, burrowing gruesomely inside him like an infection.

He could think of it this way: returning to his old childhood home has done very, very strange things to him. Yes… That’s it. Sirius has never had anything so warm and lovely in this place... And indeed, he’s spent much of his life out of control and powerless… But he does have power over you. It occurs to him abruptly. He does have power over you.  

Sirius leans back in his chair with a squeak. His guilt, hot and shameful, broils fiercely in his gut, but it intertwines with a kind of grim satisfaction. 

It’s his house, his rules… 

So why shouldn’t he have you?

[27dragons]

Countdown to 2025: Dec 10

Student/Teacher AU / Marvel - Winteriron / Sled

Someone knocked on the door, and Bucky growled, hunching over his laptop like a hungry bear guarding its food.

“Open up, Buck!” It was Steve, because of course it was.

“Fuck off!” Bucky yelled. “Some of us actually have to study for our finals!”

“Study break!” yelled someone else, and that sounded like Sam.

“I don’t do that anymore!”

“Come on,” said... Clint? God damn it, had Steve gotten every single one of their friends together for this? “One hour, get some fresh air and food and have some fun, and we’ll let you get back to the books!”

“I’ve already got food,” Bucky grumbled, but it was true that it had been... several days since he’d left his room for longer than it took to dash to the cafeteria and back. 

“If you don’t take breaks,” Steve added in that aggravating reasonable tone of his, “it’ll all just blur together and be useless.”

He looked at his meticulously crafted study schedule. One hour wouldn’t mean the difference between passing and failing. Probably. “Doing what?” He didn’t want to admit that everything was starting to blur together already.

“There’s some kind of winter fair over by the Student Union,” Sam said. “Smelled like Christmas when we walked by earlier, heard a lot of laughing and yelling.”

Bucky closed his eyes and saw flashcards spinning behind his eyelids. Maybe a break wouldn’t be the worst thing. “Fine,” he said. He saved his work and plugged his laptop in to charge, snagging his jacket and wallet on his way to the door. “I’m setting a timer on my phone, though,” he warned them as he opened it, glaring at them sternly.

“Sure thing,” Clint said, slinging an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. “Let’s go.”

It had snowed a couple of times in the last few weeks, but never more than a couple of inches, and there wasn’t any snow on the ground now. But it was still colder than Bucky had anticipated when they pushed out of the dorm and onto the campus grounds.

The brisk wind whipped at his hair and made his cheeks sting, and he would deny it if anyone asked, but each breath of that icy air seemed to make his brain stop running in futile circles, at least for a couple of seconds. He could feel the tension easing out of his shoulders and neck.

The winter fair was behind the Student Union, in a field that had been cordoned off with cheap fencing. A volunteer was posted at the gate to scan IDs as each student entered. There were tables and tents and stations situated in a semi-circle to the left side of the entrance that were selling food and drinks -- mulled cider and nonalcoholic eggnog and cookies and popcorn balls and hot dogs and at least half a dozen other things. To the right of the entrance were games and crafts and contests: throwing softballs or shooting basketballs for prizes; hilariously childish coloring pages and snowflake paper cutting; pin-the-nose-on-Rudolph and holiday trivia. The center area was interspersed with picnic tables and portable fire pits where the students could sit to eat and just hang out.

Students who were entering for the first time were given a stack of tickets, which could be exchanged at the various stations for food or attempts at a contest; once the free tickets ran out, more could be purchased; none of the stations took cash directly, which was probably smart.

Bucky and his friends wandered through the games first. Bucky and Clint both spent half their tickets on the softball game, coming away with ridiculous little prizes. Steve handed over a ticket and spent several minutes carefully making a startlingly delicate snowflake, while Sam dropped a couple of tickets on the trivia game, drawing something of a crowd when the person running the game simply could not stump him.

After that, they crossed over to the food and drinks, picking up hot chocolate and coffee and cider to wrap their hands around while they considered the other treats on offer.

At the far back of the field, invisible until you passed the last couple of food tents, was another gate, this one opening onto what appeared to be nothing at all -- a long hill that divided the campus in two. The grounds at the bottom of the hill were mostly sports fields and non-student parking, though; no one should be approaching the fair from that direction. But there was a lone person leaning against the gate post.

“Let’s go check it out,” Sam suggested, and the rest of them shrugged agreeably and followed.

At least, until they were about halfway there, when Bucky recognized the man at the gate and half-yelped, stumbling several steps back. “Fuck!”

The rest of them paused, looking back at Bucky in surprise, but Steve actually jogged the few steps back to him. “What’s wrong, Buck?”

“Nothing, I’m--” Bucky lowered his voice to a hiss. “I can’t go over there!”

“Why not?”

Bucky glanced past Steve’s shoulder to make sure Sam and Clint weren’t close enough to hear him. “That’s Tony!”

Steve blinked, then got it. “The grad student teaching your engineering class? The one you’ve got a crush on?”

Bucky nodded frantically. “I can’t talk to him like this!” He gestured at his generally unkempt state. He honestly wasn’t sure how many days it had been since he’d showered or shaved.

“You’re fine,” Steve said. “Come on, it can’t be that bad.”

“No, absolutely not,” Bucky said. “I’ll just-- you can tell them that I tripped or stepped in a hole or something and hurt my ankle. I can go back, and you guys can--”

“Hey, everything okay over here?”

Because of course Tony was coming over to them. Bucky put his hands on his face and groaned.

Tony produced a phone. “Hey, if you’re hurt, I can get someone to come help.”

“No!” Bucky said, too loud. “No,” he tried again, “I’m fine, I was just--”

“He tripped on something,” Steve cut in smoothly, “but I think he’s okay.”

“Oh, great,” Tony said, giving them that smile that made Bucky’s innards turn to water. “Then you guys can come see!” He stepped back, still facing them, grinning expectantly.

Almost unwillingly, they followed. “What is it?” Steve asked.

“Sledding!” Tony said cheerfully.

“I hate to bust your bubble,” Sam said, “but there’s no snow.”

“That was a disappointment,” Tony agreed, “but I think I made it work anyway. Behold!” They reached the gate, and Tony gestured at several sleds lined up at the top of the hill. Their runners had been attached to what looked like thick slabs of some kind of... foam?

“Uh...” They all exchanged glances.

“Really, I think I improved the experience,” Tony said. “The bottom of the foam is a thing I’ve been working on in the chemistry lab; Parker and I have kind of an ongoing thing where he makes an adhesive and then I make something that it can’t stick to. Anyway, my latest formulation is on the bottom of the foam, it glides right over the ground. And the foam itself is thick enough to provide the shock absorption that you usually get from snow.”

“That’s pretty awesome,” Clint admitted.

“You sure it’s safe--” Sam started, but Steve was already throwing himself toward a sled.

“Last one to the bottom is a rotten egg!” Steve yelled, and Clint was right behind him.

Sam and Bucky both broke for the last sled, but Sam beat him there by inches, flinging himself down in an effort to gain enough momentum to catch up with Clint.

“Sam!” Bucky growled. “Damn it, you--” But Sam was already gone. Bucky sighed.

“I know you, don’t I?” said Tony.

“Uh.” Bucky had almost forgotten Tony was there in the brief race for the sleds. “Yeah, I’m in your Intro to Engineering class.”

Tony snapped his fingers. “Barnes. That’s right. Didn’t recognize you with all the--” He rubbed his hand over his own face to indicate Bucky’s scruff.

Bucky grimaced. “Yeah, I’ve been hitting the books pretty hard. Haven’t bothered to shave for a couple days.”

“You ask me, it just makes you look hotter.”

“What?” Bucky blinked.

“What?”

"Did you just..." He couldn't finish, in case it had been a hallucination brought on by too much studying.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, and Bucky just prayed the blush he could feel crawling across his cheeks could be mistaken for a reaction to the biting wind.

From the bottom of the hill, Steve was whooping and Clint and Sam were yelling and wrestling over who’d actually come last.

Tony leaned back against the gate with a smirk. “Stop by my office next semester,” he said, “after you’re done with my class, and we can discuss it.”

[lulublack90]

Prompt 8 - Bubbles

@wolfstarmicrofic June 8, word count 514

Previous part First part

“There is another prize beneath the coins, Mr Lupin, if you’d be so kind,” McGonagall told him after he’d unwrapped his third chocolate coin. 

“Oh, sorry” Remus blushed as he licked chocolate from his lips and fingertips. Sirius let out a little whine, but when Remus looked up at him, Sirius had turned around to look out at the lake. 

Remus dug through the coins and pulled out four cards that gave them first dibs at mealtimes. 

“Sweet!” Peter grinned as he took a card out of Remus’s hand and grabbed a handful of the chocolate coins. “I can tell these aren’t going to last long in your hands, Remus,” He quipped as he opened one. Remus nodded, he couldn’t deny he was a chocolate fiend. His mum had to hide any sweets she bought or else he ate them all at once. He’d learnt to pick locks when she bought a lock box after he got too good at sniffing the treats out. 

He passed another card to James and some of the coins. Then he approached Sirius. He walked around to stand in front of him. 

“Here,” He held out the card for Sirius to take. Sirius didn’t move. Remus juggled the treasure chest, so he had a free hand. “Hey?” He reached out and squeezed Sirius’s hand. Sirius’s eyes met his, then flicked down to their hands. “Your card,” He waved it with his other hand. 

“I think I might go for a swim,” Sirius blurted out and waded out into the lake, pulling his shirt off again and throwing it at James’s head. Remus watched him dive between the surface and watched as the surface stilled. He waited for the telltale bubbles that would show Sirius coming up for air. But there was nothing. He dropped the box and walked towards the shore. He was debating diving in and trying to find him when Sirius erupted from beneath the water like something out of a Jane Austen novel. Remus knew his mouth was hanging open, but he couldn’t help it. 

“Mr Black! Out of the water now! We do not have a lifeguard on duty!” McGonagall shouted across the water. Sirius swam to the dock and hauled himself out. He shook his long hair like a dog, water droplets going everywhere before he trotted back towards them.

“Sorry, Minnie. Won’t happen again.” He shot her a very toothy smile. 

“Mr Black, you are skating on very thin ice,” She warned him before she walked back towards her office. 

“Twat,” James sighed and threw Sirius his shirt back. “Why on earth did you feel the need to manatee away?” Sirius opened his mouth in outrage. 

“What! What! MANATEE! Excuse me, there is not an ounce of blubber on my body, and I am far more graceful! Manatee indeed! Bah!” Sirius yanked his shirt back on over his head and stomped over to where Remus was standing. He reached out and took the card, then bent down and took the treasure chest. “Mine now, Remus,” He grinned and wandered towards their cabin.  

Next part

[swifthorne]

Interview with a General

This is Kylie Koopa of KNN, reporting to you live from the royal castle. With me today is the General of our great nation's military, who has agreed to an exclusive interview!

KG: "It's no trouble at all, ma'm."

KK: "Now, rumor has it you went toe to toe with some kind of jackal during the war. Can you confirm or deny this?"

KG: "As a matter of fact, I did. One moment, I was striking down another of the enemy's troops, and the next, that mad dog had whipped out a jewel of immense power! I have never encountered such magic before......it was enough to knock me to the ground. But I was able to shield one of my men from its effects using my own body when I went down."

KK: "Can you describe what happened afterwards, General?"

KG: "I could still hear the battle raging around me, but I couldn't see it. That jewel.....it did something to me. I found myself trapped in a prison of illusion, forced to fight endless waves of invaders. Well, more like facsimiles of them. You know how some dreams are so vivid, it's hard to tell what's real? That's what it felt like."

KK: "And what became of this jewel after the battle had concluded?"

KG: "Currently residing within His Majesty's trophy room, under heavy guard. That level of power could be useful in our conquests. However, there are other prizes which have been claimed today."

KK: "Care to elaborate?"

KG: "I am pleased to report that two of the invaders have defected after their leader's defeat. Lazy buggers, but I'll whip them into shape in no time."

KK: "I'm sure you will. Before we go, do you have anything else to say to our audience, or about the war itself?"

KG: "Affirmative. Let our glorious victory be a warning to those who'd try and claim our beloved King Bowser's throne for themselves. We shall not falter in our duty. We shall not bend or break. So to all you fakers out there, hear me now! If you want to take His Majesty down, you'll have to go through my men and I! And when push comes to shove? YOU can't escape ME!!!!!"

This is Kylie, signing off.

[rock--lobster]

Monkees Headcanons

Davy has killed several people and takes their teeth so they cannot be identified via dental records. He keeps the teeth in his maracas. 

Mike is secretly coquette. He actually wears a little pink bow under his green hat but vehemently denies it to anyone who asks him. It’s his prized possession (the bow, not the hat)

Peter’s cooking has given everyone food poisoning at least once but they all refuse to cook instead of him because “a man’s place is not the kitchen”

Micky's wives keep leaving him because he will not stop doing his James Cagney impression in bed

Peter punched Davy that time because he (Peter) had been wearing clothes for too long and the sensory issues were causing him to act up

Mike contracted leprosy from eating armadillo in Texas 

Susan pike is not a real person, but an elaborate publicity stunt set up by Davys PR team gone horribly wrong

Micky is actually short for Michard 

Mike saw brokeback mountain in theaters and cried so hard he threw up on the person sitting in front of him 

None of peters socks match because he does not buy them, he just keeps the ones he finds at his house after his parties 

One time Peter was drinking ice water and an ice cube slid down his throat and he started choking and he didn’t tell anyone he stood there not being able to breathe pretending to be fine until the ice cube melted enough that it could slide down his gullet. He does not drink ice water anymore.

Once micky got really high and wanted to see if the skillet face thing was true and put a raw egg on his face and laid out in the sun to see if it would cook. He got salmonella poisoning 

Mike has his dogs trained to attack Peter and Don Kirshner on sight

Davy once saw an add for “height improvement surgery for the vertically challenged” and went to get it but it was botched and that’s why he looks like that

they hide their drugs inside Mr schneider 

[lectercunt]

more omega Hannibal fic list please 💗

Thanks for the request! Below are my Omega!Hannibal fic recommendations. Read responsibly and mind the tags!

The only fic ranked on this list is the first—stink in the nostrils by murdertrout. It is my favorite fic of all time, period, and just happens to be Omega!Hannibal. The last fic on the list is mine. Enjoy <3

stink in the nostrils

Secret Omega Hannibal is not pleased that he has imprinted on Will Graham. He avenges himself on his biology by getting Will Graham put behind bars. But when Will figures out what he’s been hiding and tampers with his suppressants, triggering his first heat, they both get more than they bargained for.

put your aching teeth to good use, my dear

Fromage AU. When Will sees Hannibal in his office, bloody but alive, he goes into a feral rut. Hannibal tries to pacify him.

prime

He bares his teeth in a smile that makes Will answer in kind. "I'll find you," he says; a threatening promise of his own. Will grins, and purrs for him in a way that makes Hannibal ache all over again. "Good," he replies. "I want you to."

feral

“Will,” Jack Crawford growls down the line, “Tell me Hannibal Lecter never confided in you that he was an Omega.” “Oh, shit.” “Oh, shit,” Jack agrees. They’ve come a long way from the old days, where Omegas in heat would slaughter anyone who stood between them and their chosen Alpha. Where Omegas would fight each other to the death in order to claim their prize, and some Alphas died of rut exhaustion or from injuries sustained from a too-eager Omega. Now, Omegas temper their heats with stabilizing pills and Alphas have a say in who they breed. But there would have been no stabilizing pills provided to an incarcerated Beta.

asserting dominance (dead dove!)

Hannibal has spent years of imprisonment without Will properly acknowledging their mating bond. When Hannibal sends the Dragon to kill Molly and Walter, he finally provokes Will into action: to remedy his jealous behavior by inducing his heat, and putting him in his place.

top dog, lost kitten

Hannibal, an omega catboy belonging to a rich family, finds himself drawn to a stray alpha dogboy by the name of Will. When Hannibal wanders the streets during his heat, he gets unwanted attention. As he had hoped, Will is there to look out for him.

soaked through

Season 3 AU, where Will shows his face and instead of receiving pain, Hannibal receives everything he's ever wanted.

we don't need to heal

Tired of wasting resources dealing with a horrific Omega criminal who is definitely not insane, the BSHCI and the FBI decide that the best course of action is to have him mated to an Alpha who can keep him under control. Find an Alpha for the job, and Hannibal Lecter can be out of their hands for good. Will Graham enters the BSCHI, believing himself to have been selected to interview the notorious killer about a cold case that has recently been attributed to him. What he finds instead will change their lives forever, and leave him wracked with guilt. Hannibal, on the other hand, could not be more satisfied with how things panned out for them both.

distraction

Hannibal smiles, purring softly, and leans down to nuzzle Will's forehead. "You needn't be so distressed, darling," he murmurs. There is blood on Will's neck, and his cut palm smears more fresh up his mate's bare forearm. His sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, so he can give Will all of his scent. Hannibal licks the smear of his own slick on Will's cheek, his purr for a moment growing louder. "When have I ever denied you?"

tables turned (dead dove!)

When Will turns a gun on him, Hannibal goes into heat. Will decides to toy with him before giving him what he wants.

an unexpected guest

Ten-year-old Henry Lecter’s sitter just bailed, leaving him alone to watch over his younger siblings. And that would have been fine, had a man from the FBI not chosen that precise moment to show up at their door. or Will and Hannibal got a little too close in Naka-Choko, resulting in a surprise pregnancy. Rather than having the bloody canon break-up, they took their new family, including Abigail, and skipped off to Europe for their happily ever after. Enter Jack, tracking them down almost eleven years later in the quaint Italian countryside, with only young Henry there to protect the family.

stronger than memory (dead dove!)

"Your real name can't possibly be Schatje." "It's the only real thing you need to know, Will." “Fine, at least tell me what it means.” It wasn’t a question nor a request, but a statement. "It means little treasure." “And are you, then? A little treasure?”

cover to cover (the mark of a lover)

Will and Hannibal are both Omegas. After Tobias' death, Will takes Hannibal home. Hannibal comes to the realization that, if the world will not give him the Alpha he so desires... he will create one.

time reversed

Hannibal and Will traverse an unexpected intimate development.

black in the moonlight

With his upcoming dinner with Hannibal and Jack hanging heavy on his mind, Will is drawn to Hannibal's house in the middle of the night. What he finds there affects him—for better or worse, it's hard to say.

trick me twice

Hannibal and Will are leaders of allied gangs, and were friends at one point - until Hannibal almost killed Will and sent him to prison. Now he needs Will's pack, his numbers, to stop his own pack being overrun. Will might never trust him again, but there's no reason they cannot keep things professional. At least, that's what Hannibal tells himself, as he enters the BSHCI to ask for Will's help.

a rare bouquet

Will finds himself drawn in by the darkness at Hannibal’s core—something only fully revealed in heat when the violent deaths of his alpha suitors can be legally excused. When Will witnesses the aftermath of one of those murders first hand, he feels compelled to begin a courtship, wanting to see everything that lies beneath the surface. But what he seeks is not tame, and it will take more than flowers to earn its respect.

into the wild

Alpha Will stumbles upon a feral Omega in Lithuanian forests. Too fascinated to leave him be, he follows him, not knowing what awaits him.

genesis

The fish of Hannibal's trust is a spritely and skittish thing, but Will is patient. He can follow the bubbles in the water and the shining slip of scales within the currents. He can fashion beautiful lures, both mental and physical, to please and soften his mate.

brouillé

Unthinkingly, he reaches into the drawer and pulls out the top shirt, holding it to his face and breathing in. No bleach, only the faintest trace of salt sweat, and none of the bitter fear he had expected. Instead, what Hannibal inhales is the pure, unsuppressed scent of alpha.   That’s all it takes. One. Deep. Breath.

use your words

“Don’t worry, darling,” Hannibal says softly. “I know just what you need. You’re here for a reason—because you need a Daddy to guide you. So let go of your preoccupation with control and let me take care of you.”

series: other people's hearts

Truck driver Will suddenly finds himself with an armful of bloody omega named Hannibal, far too young and pretty to be hitchhiking in the middle of nowhere, and to Will's horror… fast approaching heat.

on the grounds where we feel safe

"Single Omega household seeking a primary caretaker for high-school aged female. Must own vehicle for chauffeuring, errands, and other duties as necessary. Room and board provided, and a stipend for necessities available for negotiation. Must have open availability and be willing to submit to a background check and drug test. Immediate start." Then a name, and a phone number. Doctor Hannibal Lecter.

it takes two to nest

When Hannibal hears a commotion down the hall at the hospital, naturally he goes to investigate. When he finds out that the omega patient, a Mr. Will Graham, is struggling so hard that the doctors are having difficulties handling him, naturally he is intrigued. And when he finds out that the on-call OBGYN has been delayed, naturally he steps in to deliver Will's baby himself. Dr. Hannibal Lecter can do anything, after all. Including deliver someone else's baby while minutes away from going into labor himself.

sweet tooth

He has prepared for this, of course. No self-respecting Omega of his stature and skill would deign to let themselves be taken by surprise. Although, again, he has not expected his final heat to approach for some time, it is one of those occurrences people prepare for like Doomsday. He has plans, and bags packed, and knows what he will need to do, to make sure he makes it through the ordeal with minimal discomfort. The first step will be to hunt, to stock his fridge and his stores so he will not go hungry. The second step will be to find a suitable companion.

slow like honey

Hannibal’s childbearing years are behind him, but Will manages to send him into his first heat in years. Will offers to help him out—it’s the least he can do.

duty calls

Tonight, Will is hungry.

[thlayli-ra]

Punkintyre; a twisted love story (ii)

Welcome to the next part of my Punkintyre ramblings. Last time I spoke about the players and their motives, now I'll be delving into my favourite themes of the ship.

***As always, please note that this is just my own headcanons and are for a spot of fun***

'Look me in the eye when you speak to me, please?'

Punkintyre is all about obsession; mainly Drew's obsession with Punk. Or to be more exact, Drew's obsession with getting Punk to look at him.

He notoriously said 'don't lower those eyes, Punk. Look me in the eyes when you speak to me, please' (and my lower half burst into a million pieces). There was so much to that one line. How it belittled the veteran; Drew was telling him that things had changed in the WWE since his absence, that Punk was no longer the top dog, nor was Drew the young, starry-eyed upstart. He was telling Punk that their roles were now reversed and that Drew was the one making the orders around here now so Punk better damn start listening!

But then... he said 'please'.

And all the power slipped away from his statement with that one, solitary word. Because he wasn't 'telling' Punk, he was 'asking' him. Asking him to look Drew in the eye and give him his attention, his respect. Everything that Punk had denied him their first time around in WWE. Drew is still bitter about it and now he wants that attention more than ever. When the jabs on social media and on-air didn't get the reaction he hoped for, Drew put Punk front and centre at his match at Wrestlemania as a special guest commentator. That way Punk has no option but to look at him at long last.

That should have been enough! But it wasn't, and after winning the title, Drew found himself drawn to Punk, wanting to lavish in the older man's attention up close and personal. Crawling towards him on the table, rubbing the belt in his face, getting to his feet so that Punk has to stare up at him as he insulted him. And for a while, Punk didn't bite... until he did!

Drew finally got what he wanted; Punk's attention. But it was a double-edged sword and cost him dearly. First Wrestlemania, then the no.1 contendership the following night, then Clash at the Castle, then Money in the Bank. The finger on the monkey paw had curled and Drew discovered too late that Punk's gaze is a curse. He'd opened a can of worms and couldn't just cram them all back in again.

Which leads us nicely onto...

Broken Dreams

At the Royal Rumble 2014, Punk had his last match in WWE. He didn't know it at the time - all that he knew was that he was burnt out, jaded and tired. Tired of the constant struggle, the backstage politics and above all, this sickness that had festered inside him for months. He couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, the medicine he was prescribed was wreaking havoc with his bowels until he'd shat himself on live television and an angry boil seethed beneath the waistband of his trunks.

As he sat in the trainer's room in Cleveland before Raw the following night, suffering from a concussion that he'd picked up during the Rumble, a medic thrust a cup in his hand and told the famously straight edge wrestler to piss in it. It was the final straw and Punk walked away. Some months later, the WWE fired him. On his wedding day.

At the Royal Rumble 2024, Punk had his first match back in WWE in ten years. He didn't need to return - it had taken a lot of pride-swallowing and bridge-mending - and he had already accomplished so much in his tenure with the company. Except... for one. His holy grail. His white whale. The prize catch that had slipped through his hands time and time again.

Main-eventing Wrestlemania!

And it was finally within his reach, all but guaranteed. His name was big enough, his draw undeniable. He ran into the Rumble with a purpose, a rejuvenated spirit and love for his profession.

Until he was caught on the wrong end of a Future Shock DDT...

At Wrestlemania 2020, Drew McIntyre won the WWE Championship. This was a culmination of his entire life's work and dedication, of pushing through the bleakest of times when all hope had gone, of working through addiction, of picking himself back up and igniting that spark again to light his way back through the shadows. At long last, he'd been rewarded for his efforts. Heaving himself up from his knees, tears in his eyes, he clutched his beloved prize and climbed the turnbuckle to show it off-

-to an empty room!

Drew's greatest moment would always be tainted by the presence of Covid-19. Where there should have been crowds cheering, noise and atmosphere was instead an empty silence. It hardly echoed the weight of this victory for him personally.

At Wrestlemania in 2024, Drew won the World Heavyweight Championship. It was everything that his victory in 2020 hadn't been. Dubbed the Biggest Wrestlemania in history, the noise from the capacity crowd was deafening, almost shattering his ear drums. He stumbled to his wife and brother in the crowd, presented them the title he had won, hugged them, kissed them.

Then, he spied CM Punk, sitting at commentary clapping with the rest of the crowd. He could have turned and left, ignored the call of the siren but he didn't...

At Clash at the Castle in 2022, Drew was the Hometown Hero. Well... close enough! It may have been Wales but it was the UK and he was the biggest name in the company from these parts so he was the one chosen to be the face of the PLE and to main-event it. And what a main event! It was Drew's chance to stare down the barrel of the Tribal Chief, Roman Reigns, and hope was high for a de-throning. Drew had pushed Roman to his limits in the build-up and reduced the Head of the Table down to his knees.

But it was not to be. Despite a valiant effort from the contender, the champion retained, though, not without an unfair advantage from the Usos and their baby brother, Solo Sikoa, making his main roster debut. But Drew was given no time to wallow; there was still minutes on the clock and he was forced to pick himself up, put on a fake smile and entertain the crowd until they went off the air, unable to show the world how his heart was breaking.

At Clash at the Castle in 2024, Drew was the Hometown Hero. For real this time! They were in Glasgow, Scotland, his home country, a mere thirty miles from where he had grown up, in the city where he had studied at university, where he had trained to wrestle, where he had cut his teeth and, above all, the city that had welcome him back with open arms when he had failed. It was here that he had reinvented himself, became something bigger and better, rejuvenated his gimmick and, in turn, his career. He returned a conquering hero, at the top of the mountain and ready to give back to the city that he loved so much.

The stars were aligned so perfectly, like a beautiful constellation that could only be witnessed every thousand years. He could finally feel the darkness of the past few months lift, he had a chance for redemption, to become the hero he was destined to be as he pinned Damian Priest to win the championship that had eluded him all Summer in front of his people, his town, his country.

The referee slid into the ring and counted the one, two...

It's highly appropriate that Drew was the one to kick-start this feud by shattering Punk's Wrestlemania hopes considering that his previous entrance music was called 'Broken Dreams'. Since then, it's his own dreams that have been ripped from him time and again by a vengeful Punk who has vowed that Drew will never hold another championship as long as he's breathing.

As the feud has progressed, there has been less focus on this theme, yet it remains the main crux of it and what it boils down to; having something precious stolen away.

Speaking of which...

The Scarf and the Bracelet

There has been a lot of talk of the similarities between Punk's feud with Drew and his incredible feud in AEW with MJF. The psycho-sexual obsession, the wily veteran taking on the younger talent who's now more established, the match where they are literally attached to one another, the ambiguity between who's right and who's wrong, um...whipping... the list goes on.

But one similarity that I like yet I've never seen brought up is that both feuds involved something getting stolen. In AEW, Punk stole MJF's scarf and walked in the following week wearing it around his neck. He said he was hoping it would evoke a reaction from Max, but then he discovered that it was a cheap replica, one of thousands that cost a few bucks on Amazon. It meant nothing. It was a callous way for Punk to call Max hollow, a poser acting like he was somebody important when in actuality everything he did and possessed was empty and meaningless.

In WWE, Drew stole Punk's bracelet.

And it's acknowledged from the start that it's a cheap piece of plastic, worth only a few cents. But unlike Max's scarf, its sentimental value is priceless. It was lovingly crafted by a fan, a gift for her hero and on it, a sequence of little white cubes spell out the names 'AJ' and 'Larry'. The two people who make up the entirety of Punk's world. He's found himself at the bottom, he's cut ties with his biological family, he's walked away from a lucrative career, leaving behind friends and colleagues who have lived in each other's pockets for years, he's been beaten bloody and humiliated on live TV, he's had his name and reputation dragged through the dirt, he's suffered through injury and surgery and injury and surgery.

And through it all, every time he was knocked down, the two people he loves most have been there to help him back up. After his brutal defeat in his first UFC bout, an emotional Punk was asked what his wife said to him after the match. He put down the mic, leaned back, closed his eyes and took several deep breaths to compose himself. When he picked the mic back up, his voice croaked as he said 'she said she was proud of me'.

Larry was abandoned, left alone and unloved in a pound. Considered too ugly to adopt. Perhaps Punk saw a little of himself in Larry; a rough, scraggly little mutt with a lot of fight in him and a lot of heart.

It's all these sentiments and more that are contained within the colourful beads of a simple trinket. Drew could have stolen anything from Punk but he went right for the one that mattered most besides his wedding ring. Right for Punk's heart.

His family.

And looking at the way Drew handles it, it's obvious that it means the world to him too. But we'll talk about that next time. Sorry! 😈)

[imagineitdearies]

Hey I loved loved loved your fanfiction as I’m sure everyone here did but now I, going through withdrawals I can’t find anything similar or as good as yours. So I’m curious what your favourite bg3 fanfiction are?

Hey there!! Awww, thank you ☺️ I sort of got super focused on writing PS for a while there, so I can't say I know of all The GreatsTM in this fandom. I will share what I have enjoyed/am currently reading though (almost all of it involving Astarion), but anyone else should feel free to add your favs in the comments!!

As always, please check tags and read at your own discretion!

Finished ones I've enjoyed:

Seducere by Tlon ~ Astarion/nb!Tav ~ Astarion doesn’t need a reflection to know himself – two hundred years of servitude has shown him exactly what he’s good for. Odd that his new partner seems to disagree.

Nothing is safe by foxflowering ~ Wyll/Astarion ~ "Wyll's the sort of prince-type I would have once dreamed of marrying. When I was about thirteen."

Carving through the dark by skitter ~ Astarion/f!Tav ~ Wren and Astarion descend into the Underdark in search of a new purpose, and learn a few things along the way. Namely, that healing isn't linear and sometimes love takes the long way round.

Astarion Origin Party Nonsense by starkraving ~ Astarion/Karlach; Astarion/Cazador, sort of Astarion/Wyll? ~ A collection of things that ostensibly happen in the same little mental universe. Loosely based on the events of an Origin Astarion run and the various questions it inspired. (All but one in the series is finished so I'm counting it, lol!)

All Our Missing Parts by Viraaja ~ Astarion/Halsin ~ Halsin discovers Astarion was turned before his maturity and all the sacred elven rites that come along with it. Including the sex one.

Friday Nights by SadinaSaphrite ~ Astarion/Gale ~ Professor Gale Dakarios loses his research, his magic, and his lover Mystra all at once and only has himself to blame. When he goes to drown his sorrows, he meets a pale stranger with mysteries of his own.

visions of your love by LargeOctahedron, notyournoise ~ Shadowheart/f!Tav ~ Shadowheart is tired of doubting - of feeling her heart twist whenever she looks at Tav without knowing whether they feel the same. One night, tired of sitting and hoping Tav will approach, she tries to read their mind, only to find them in a rather compromising position.

WIPs I'm following:

Palmarosa by thespectaclesofthor ~ Astarion/Raphael ~ Astarion is stuck in the darkness once more, yearning for sunlight with every fibre of his being, while bitterly reflecting on all the things that were denied to him. Raphael knows Astarion's desperate, and comes to him with not one, but two horrid contract offers that Astarion loathes and dreads in equal measure - but the prize at the end of both are too good to turn down.

To Defy the Gods by ~ Shadowheart/Tav ~ Dark Justiciar. Mother Superior. Shar's Voice Made Flesh. Her Chosen. Shadowheart had emptied her heart of falsehoods, of the illusion of life and love, and accepted the inevitability of loss. Almost.

A Dog's Retreat by ~ Halsin & Astarion, past Astarion/Cazador ~ For most, it was just the end of the Absolute. For Astarion, it was the end of two hundred years of agony. And the transition is steep and slippery. Now, all he can do is hope that there are enough pieces of him left for him to pick up and somehow put back together. Too bad hope has never been Astarion’s poison of choice.

A Warm House, A Ruddy Fire by DepravedJJJSchmidt ~ trans!Astarion/Cazador, trans!Astarion/m!Tav ~ Mr. and Mrs. Cazador Szarr have an ideal marriage. Astarion doesn't know if he will be able to survive another year of it. (And I don't know if I'll survive another chapter tbh, but like a burning building I can't look away 😬)

Alright, that's all I can think of! I'm a bit distracted all over again thanks to the original novel I'm working on now, but hopefully you find something new on this list you end up enjoying 🩵 this fandom is full of so many talented people!!