#Daniel Clamp

[chernobog13]

Daniel Clamp (John Glover) and some of his new employees at Clamp Center in Gremlins 2: The New Batch (1990).

[who-do-i-know-this-man]

⚠️Vote for whomever YOU DO NOT KNOW⚠️‼️

[kazumikikuchi000]

I am thinking of this concept for two days, I like how this drawing came out.

[captainadwen]

Damian Wayne vs the World

Sixteen year old Damian Wayne is on the hunt for a younger sibling. Being more discerning than Bruce 'child collector' Wayne, Damian's firm criteria for Batman's latest adoption problem includes but is not limited to: black haired, blue-eyed, tolerable humor, not evil, and most importantly - younger than Damian.

Lucky for him, fourteen year old newbie vigilante Danny Fenton is the perfect fit. Now, to fulfill his end of their deal, Damian must defeat the evil government organization hunting Danny in order to gain a baby brother.

Or, @livinghalfway your post made my brain go !! but in such a different way I figured it was better to make a separate post, hope you don't mind/enjoy still

~~

Damian Wayne re-entered Tim Drake's life like a gnat revealing itself in a closed bedroom space. Tim was in t-shirt and a boxers, maneuvering ramen into his mouth with one hand and scribbling out an epiphany on a murder case with another, when Damian's demonic dulcet voice echoed down from the ceiling. "Drake," said Damian, judgemental, "You live like this?"

Tim nearly choked on his ramen, because the day Damian doesn't attempt to murder him - however doubtfully accidental this incident might be - is the day Darkseid decides to be friends with the Justice League. "Fucking knock," Tim coughed out. "And get out. No one invited you in."

"Put better traps if you don't want me here," said Damian, dropping from the ceiling where he'd crawled in on wall-clamps.

"This is my apartment," said Tim. "It's called courtesy."

Damian sniffed. He padded around to Tim's desk and frowns at his cases, then said, with no further lead up, "I need your assistance."

"No," said Tim.

"You did not even listen to my request."

"Don't need to," said Tim. "Answer's still no. Door is that way. Bye."

"Father says mutually assisting each other is beneficial," said Damian.

"Father," said Tim sarcastically, "blamed me for you exploding a glitter bomb in the batcave two weeks ago."

"That is your fault for not being able to provide evidence to the contrary in an appropriately efficient manner," said Damian. He squinted down at Tim. "And he apologized. Eventually."

"I would not have glittered the batcomputer," said Tim. "Do you know how much of a pain in the ass it is to backup those servers? No, because you don't like tech work, you just profit off it."

"Blaming me for Father's mistake," said Damian, "Most mature of you. But we must put our differences aside. I have selected a new family member and I need you to dismantle a government organization."

That drew Tim up short. He blinked down at his ramen as though it might explain Damian's words to him, but the ramen remained disappointingly uninformative. "Repeat that," said Tim, gesturing with his chopsticks. "Slower, and with more detail."

Damian pulled out his phone and sent him an email. Silence surrounded them in the brief moment it took Tim to set aside his chopsticks and open the email. The subject line was titled 'New Baby Brother', which birthed all sorts of horrifying nightmares of Damian Part 2: Demon Child Boogaloo. The teen in the inserted picture, however, was reassuringly not in possession of Damian's bone structure.

He did have black hair and blue eyes. "Who am I looking at?" asked Tim.

"Daniel Fenton," said Damian. "He is fourteen years old, enjoys puns, and has recently awakened 'ghost powers' that allow him to transform into the vigilante Phantom to fight other ghosts."

"Is he also an orphan with a tragic backstory?"

"No," said Damian, and Tim relaxed. "But that will not be an issue. We can share custody if they cannot be removed from the picture."

"Jesus H, kid."

"I am joking, of course," said Damian blandly. "Murder is wrong."

"Ha ha," said Tim. "If he has parents already he's not joining our menagerie."

"He will," said Damian, with a smug upwards tilt of his lips. "He and I have a deal."

"So you're coercing him in addition to stalking him. Anything else you want to share with the class?"

Damian considered this query with a serious frown, which was how Tim knew this was not a flight of fancy or a very early midlife crisis (although with their lifestyle and Damian already having died before...).

"He has," said Damian after a moment, "a rogue that calls himself 'The Master of all Technology' and is a technopath." This was clearly meant to be of interest to Tim, and not to be a stereotype, but it kind of was.

"Great." Tim turned his attention back to the email the demon child sent him. He scanned through it quickly. There was apparently a secret and evil government organization dedicated to the investigation and extermination of 'ghosts' and other paranormal creatures in the world. Their latest efforts were focused on the town of Amity Park, Illinois, which was 'infested with ectoplasmic pests'. Their words, not Damian's. (It was specified in the email.)

"Okay," Tim drummed his fingers against his desk. "Before I help you defeat this secret evil government organization so that," he opened the email attachment with a contract on it and squinted at the legalese, "this poor newbie teen you've harassed into signing this joins the family in exchange."

"I did not harass him," Damian huffed. "It was a gentleman's agreement."

"Does he know that?"

"I am not a politician, Drake. I thoroughly explained the terms and legalities before presenting any contract. Now ask your question."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because," said Damian, tone implying 'you are stupid and haven't noticed something obvious, idiot'. "Father has begun saying he misses the noise around the manor and looking wistfully at old pictures."

"We still live there though?" said Tim. Damian looked flatly at him. "Sometimes."

"If you lived there frequently enough," said Damian, "you would already know Father is having...empty nest syndrome." Damian sounded disgusted. "I refuse to tolerate whatever inadequate and incompetent child he will find."

"So instead you found an incompetent and inadequate child for him?"

"Don't be stupid, Drake," said Damian. "I would not have chosen someone inadequate. Daniel is merely lacking formal training. Father can rectify this. It will keep him occupied for at least the next two to four years, which gives me enough time to find another black-haired, blue-eyed, tolerable child I approve of to be his successor and my second younger sibling." Damian paused. "Or until one of you procreates and gives him a grandchild."

"You're really serious about this," Tim whispered in horrified awe.

"I am serious about everything I do," said Damian. "Now, you will help me defeat this evil government organization so that our new sibling joins us."

"Okay," said Tim, but his mind snagged on a minor, throwaway detail, so utterly in odds with Damian 'Demonic Jealous Child' Al Ghul it surely came from another person - "Did you just call this kid your successor?"

[smutmind]

Extra Toppings

Hanni & Danielle X male reader

The door clicks open on a giggle.

Two women—bare legs, crop tops, sweat clinging like heat. Danielle leans against the frame, tall and cool. Hanni presses in behind her, shorter, smirking, her chin tucked just below Danielle’s shoulder.

“You’re late,” Danielle says, sweet and sharp.

You shift the box in your hands. “Traffic.”

Hanni cocks her head, brown waves spilling to one side. Her grin’s pure mischief. “We can’t pay,” she says.

You raise a brow. “Then I can’t give you the pizza.”

She steps back into the apartment—slow, deliberate. “Maybe,” she says, “there’s another way.”

You step in.

The door shuts with a soft click.

“You two know what you’re playing at?” you ask, voice low.

Danielle arches a brow. “We’re not girls,” she says, smile deepening. “We’re very, very grown.”

The box hits the counter. You take Hanni’s wrist gently, firmly—guiding her backward until the couch nudges the backs of her knees. She sinks down, looking up at you, breath catching.

“You start,” you say, nodding toward Danielle.

The taller woman drops to her knees with a grin. “He’s big.”

“No shit,” Hanni whispers, eyes wide as Danielle’s lips wrap slow and wet around the tip.

You don’t move. Just let them work—tongues switching, hands greedy. When it’s Hanni’s turn, she gags once, then takes you deeper. Your jaw tightens.

“Still think pizza’s free?” you ask, rough now.

Hanni wipes her mouth, still kneeling. “Worth every bite.”

You wrap her hair around your fist. “We’re not done.”

She shifts on her knees, licking her lips, gaze flicking from you to Danielle—then back. “Tell me what you want,” she says, voice a soft taunt.

“Open,” you say.

Danielle’s already on the move. Taller, more deliberate—she curls one arm around Hanni’s waist, steadying her. You guide yourself between their lips. The first pass is just warmth—soft mouths brushing the tip like they’re passing candy back and forth.

Danielle takes you deep. Her throat flexes. Hanni watches with parted lips, hands tight on Danielle’s thighs.

“Slower,” you murmur. “Let her taste it.”

Danielle eases back. Hanni leans in, tongue flat as she licks along the base, then kisses her way up the shaft until Danielle’s mouth meets hers again.

Their lips brush—slick from you.

“Jesus,” you mutter, fingers curling against Hanni’s scalp. “You two practiced this?”

“Once or twice,” Danielle says, breathless, before sinking down again.

This time, Hanni follows—both mouths working in tandem, heat and rhythm and just enough mess. Danielle takes the head while Hanni sucks the underside, her small tongue tracing that sensitive line. Their moans vibrate through you.

“Hold it right there,” you groan.

They freeze. Hanni’s lips sealed around your base. Danielle’s halfway down the shaft, her fingers wrapped at the root, her throat pulsing tight. You watch them breathe through their noses, eyes locked on yours.

Then you pull back—slow, wet, aching.

“Fuck,” you hiss. “Couch. Now.”

Danielle wipes her mouth and grins. “He’s shaking.”

Hanni licks her lips. “Good.”

You’re barely seated when Hanni straddles your lap, slick thighs clamping around your hips. She’s still catching her breath, one hand braced on your chest. The other wraps around your cock, guiding you into her in one slow, deliberate sink.

Her head tips back. “Fucking hell.”

Danielle kneels behind her, arms wrapping around your shoulders. Her mouth is at your neck, then lower—tongue tracing your collarbone, lips brushing your chest.

“You like this?” she whispers, pinching your nipple until your hips buck.

Hanni moans at the jolt. You grip her ass, guiding the rhythm.

Danielle moves around, straddling your thigh. She leans in, pressing her breast to your mouth. “Suck.”

You do. Tongue flicking, lips closing around the nipple until she gasps. Hanni’s riding now—small, quick thrusts. Her breath’s all broken vowels.

When she starts to tremble, Danielle takes her arm. “Switch.”

Hanni nods, climbing off with a wet sound.

Danielle slides in like she owns it. Taller, tighter. She rolls her hips, slow and grinding. Her hands cup your face, mouth crushing yours.

Behind her, Hanni’s fingers trace your chest again. She leans over Danielle’s shoulder, letting her breasts brush your lips.

“Taste me,” she says.

You flick your tongue across her nipple, sucking her deeper as Danielle clenches around you.

“Fuck, that’s good,” she pants, bouncing harder now.

Your hands are everywhere—hips, waist, hair. The wet slap of skin fills the room.

Hanni cups your chin. “Can you come like this?”

“Try me.”

They laugh—wicked, breathless. And keep riding.

Danielle’s riding hard now—hips slamming down with a wet rhythm that punches gasps from both of you. Her hands dig into your shoulders, and her hair falls in your face as she leans close, panting.

“I’m—” she starts, but her voice breaks.

Hanni’s behind her, one hand between Danielle’s thighs, fingers slick. “She’s close,” she murmurs, grinning as she strokes. “Feel her clench?”

You nod, jaw tight. “She’s milking me.”

Danielle cries out. Loud, guttural. Her spine arches, legs shaking as she grinds through it.

“Oh my god—fuck—” Her whole body locks, pulsing around you in fast, tight waves. You hold her there, buried deep, letting her ride it down in trembles.

She slips off with a moan. “Hanni,” she says, breathless, “you’ll melt.”

“I already am.”

Hanni climbs back on, smaller frame quivering as she sinks onto you. She’s soaked—her thighs shine where Danielle left her. She rocks once, twice, and then her eyes flutter shut.

Danielle kneels beside you, mouth at your nipple again, teasing. “Fill her up,” she whispers. “She wants it.”

You grip Hanni’s hips. She rides with tight, desperate rolls. Every stroke draws a gasp. She leans in, forehead to yours.

“Please,” she breathes. “Please—right there—”

Her cry is sharper, shorter. Her body snaps against yours, then seizes—shivering around your cock as her orgasm breaks over both of you.

She clutches your shoulders, riding the last waves until she collapses forward, chest to chest.

You’re right on the edge.

Danielle straddles your thigh again, hand wrapping around you, guiding your length back between Hanni’s legs.

“Come for her,” she murmurs. “Give her every drop.”

You thrust once. Twice. Her pussy grips you like a vice.

You explode—deep, hot, groaning into her shoulder as you fill her, hips jerking until it’s too much.

Hanni gasps at the warmth flooding inside her. Danielle strokes your chest, kisses your neck.

“Delivery complete,” she whispers.

[flwrstqr]

⌇ THE BOY 𝓲S MiNE : AGENT ENHYPEN ──𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒'𝗋𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗌𝗉𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗇𝖾𝗋

( ✶ 𝓢) ⦂ 엔하이픈 + f ! r . 1OOOwc. ──kissing, skinship, petnames && agent au ⠀ ｡｡ ⠀fluff, slightly suggestive 𖥔 ARCHiVE⠀ ૮ ♡◞ ◟ ა

danielle msgs： agent enhypen is my life (> <)

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚 he leans against the wall, his dark suit slightly wrinkled from the mission, a cocky smirk playing on his lips as he watches you patch up a scratch on your arm. "careful, princess, wouldn’t want to ruin that pretty face of yours," he teases. you glare at him, your fingers fumbling with the bandage as his presence looms closer. “you could help instead of just standing there,” you snap, and he chuckles, stepping into your space, his hands brushing yours as he takes over. “relax, doll, i got you,” he murmurs, his touch lingering a little too long. your breath hitches as his fingers trace your wrist, and he tilts his head. “you okay? you’re staring,” he smirks, and you scoff, pushing him away, your pulse racing. “shut up, heeseung.”

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚 he leans against the sleek black car, his tie loosened and hair slightly disheveled from the mission. "you gonna keep me waiting, sweetheart?" he drawls, a teasing tone in his voice as you walk up, rolling your eyes. "not everyone can look like they just stepped out of a magazine after getting shot at," you quip, but your words falter as he steps closer, brushing an imaginary speck off your shoulder. "relax, i’m just making sure my partner’s looking sharp," he murmurs, his fingers lingering as they smooth down your sleeve. the proximity sends a flush creeping up your neck, and he notices, smirking. "you’re cute when you’re flustered," he says, low and soft, his hand brushing your waist as he leans in, a little too close. "jay," you warn. he pulls back with a chuckle, holding up his hands. "easy, angel, i’m just messing with you."

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡 your eyes narrow as jake leans casually against the bar, his signature smile in full effect as he charms yet another woman at the gala. you’re supposed to be blending in as a couple, but instead, he’s working his way through every pretty face in the room. “you know,” he murmurs, sliding up beside you moments later, his cologne lingering as he leans down, “you could at least pretend you’re jealous. makes us more believable.” his voice is low, teasing, as his hand brushes your waist like it belongs there. you roll your eyes. “jake,” you hiss, gripping his arm and pulling him closer, “shut up and let’s go back to the mission.” his grin doesn’t falter. “anything for you, sweetheart.” his laugh is soft as he lets you tug him away, clearly enjoying himself.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡 you barely have time to react before sunghoon grabs your wrist and yanks you into a dark corner, his hand firm around your waist as he presses you against the wall. "what the hell, sunghoon—" you start, but he quickly clamps a hand over your mouth, leaning in close. "shh," he whispers, his breath brushing your cheek, "unless you want us both caught." your glare could burn a hole through him, and he smirks, removing his hand but keeping you pinned. "you could’ve just warned me," you hiss, your voice barely above a whisper. "where’s the fun in that?" he teases, his eyes dropping to your lips. "you’re impossible-" you mutter, about to push him away, but before you can, his lips crash onto yours, silencing you. it’s quick, enough to leave you stunned, and when he pulls back, he smirks. "worked, didn’t it?"

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢 sunoo’s hand rests lightly on your waist as he leans closer, his soft lips brushing your ear like a whisper. “darling, they’re watching,” he murmurs. your heart skips as he cups your cheek, his thumb grazing your jawline. “relax, love, you look too tense for someone so used to this game.” his voice is honeyed, his gaze holding a teasing glint that makes it hard to focus on the crowd scanning the "power couple." when his lips graze your temple, you shiver. “sunoo,” you warn, barely above a breath, but he only chuckles. “what? just making sure they believe us,” he whispers, his grin widening. it’s impossible to tell if the blush creeping up your neck is part of his plan—or his charm.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡 "you could’ve told me your shoes were killing you, sweetheart," jungwon murmurs, crouched at your feet as the orchestra’s music swirls around the grand ballroom. you feel the heat rush to your cheeks when his fingers brush your ankle, undoing the straps of your stiletto. “i was trying to blend in,” you mumble, biting back a wince as he pulls off the heel. jungwon chuckles, standing to his full height and offering you his hand, his dark suit perfectly tailored and somehow making him even more annoyingly attractive. “blend in? with the way everyone’s been staring at you? not a chance.” before you can retort, he sweeps you off your feet, cradling you against his chest. “won—!” you squeak, but his grin is downright smug. “relax, princess. i’ve got you.” and as the two of you glide past stunned onlookers, he whispers, “forget the mission anyways."

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜 "you're unbelievable," you mutter, fingers flying over the keyboard as you hack into the system, riki lounging behind you like he’s got all the time in the world. “move faster, sweetheart,” he drawls, the nickname dripping with teasing. you whirl around to glare at him, miscalculating your movement, and suddenly you’re tumbling—right onto his chest. his arms wrap around you instinctively, holding you steady as his grin widens. “if you wanted to be on top of me, angel, you could’ve just said so,” he quips, voice low. “shut up, nishimura,” you snap, but your cheeks are flaming as his hands linger at your waist. “admit it, you love being this close to me,” he whispers, and despite your best glare, the way your heart races gives you away.

[theonion]

Operating on pure natural instinct while leaping into action to protect his beloved owners, heroic dog Snickers saved a local family of five from the threat of an herb-roasted chicken, sources confirmed Wednesday. “It was a close call, but luckily Snickers could sense the golden brown skin of the chicken we’d just roasted for dinner, and his protective nature took over from there,” said Danielle Greco, mother and longtime owner of Snickers, detailing how the 4-year-old terrier mix snapped into action without a moment’s hesitation, quickly neutralizing the threat by clamping his jaws around the chicken’s succulent legs and thighs. “If it weren’t for Snickers, I shudder to think what would have happened to my family. 

Full Story

[aealzx]

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Phantom Rogues (Prequel)

Next

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“Would yOU PEOPLE JUST LISTEN!”

Danny’s exasperated anger was punctuated by a sharp ecto shotgun blast into the nearest tank the GIW had amassed. They were still trying to destroy the Infinite Realms, new agents having convinced the older ones that the Infinite Realms being connected to their realm was a hoax to keep them from following through. Jazz, Sam, and Tucker were all barricaded behind what remained of their equipment, so it was only Danny and Danielle who remained amidst this reality ripped in between the two realms that GIW’s stupid equipment had created. Yet once again Danny wasn’t able to continue his attack, getting cut off by a mostly startled scream from Danielle as they once again focused their fire on her. First it had been the humans of the team, now it was Danielle, and it was really starting to piss Danny off.

“Stop targeting her you sick bastards! She’s fourteen!” Danny belted, flying yet again between their weapons and Danielle, and blasting the cannon with a prolonged stream of ectoplasm to bend its course. They would soon shift it back to pointing at them, but at least that took a few seconds.

“So you claim. Yet the only thing it means for us is that she’s a liability for you. You’re the stronger one, but you’ll let your guard down for her. A pathetic imitation of humanity that may have won over the Fentons, but not us. We know you’re nothing but an imitation of humans made by nothing more than destructive residue.” That was Operative N, the new blood that had worked up the ranks. Danny liked to call him Nimrod.

“We’re not faking it!” Danny shouted back, feeling his voice crack with the desperate protest. “SOME ghosts are residue, but others are just as sentient and full of good emotions as humans are.” If only he could turn this stupid human into a ghost so he could see it too. But life, even stupid life, was too precious to waste just to prove a point.

“....Test run the experiment,” Operative N directed, unfazed by Danny’s outburst. The Operative next to him stepped forward as others to the sides of them started firing a barrage of ectoblasts their way. It was a distraction to keep their attention, Danny knew that. But Danielle still wasn’t as good as he was, and he didn’t miss the way the experimental blaster pulsed red instead of green. He couldn’t let Danielle get hit by that, so when she let out another yelped scream, getting hit by three ectoblasts, Danny flung himself into her when the other Operative took that as an opening.

The experimental blaster was faster than the originals, and Danny didn’t have time to bring up a shield after body slamming Danielle away. He could only tense in preparation for the damage, knowing he could handle more than Danielle could when it came to a beating.

He wasn’t ready for this.

The bloody red blast of energy wasn’t ectoplasm, and when it slammed into Danny’s chest his voice ripped from him in a startled scream of agony as he realized what they had done. The barbed wire poison splitting his ghostly skin held a familiar scorching dry flame feeling that he’d only experienced once before, a hand flying to his ribs as he crashed to the ground and couldn’t help curling into a ball, deaf to his friends’ and family’s cries for him.

Those freaks had weaponized blood blossoms.

It was worse than being trapped in a barrier of them, the poison now sank into his flesh instead of caressing it with noxious fumes. The fight wasn’t over though, so he willed his twitching limbs to work as he wanted them to, shoving them underneath himself to push himself upright, never mind the green blood dripping from his side.

“There we go,” Operative N commented emotionlessly, motioning with his hand to another Operative. “Use him now.”

That was the only warning Danny had before a clamp half his size snapped down on top of him, binding him in its case and pulling him from the broken ground. Danny let out a strangled noise as his arm was smashed against his injured ribs, legs scrambling to try and remain connected to the soil and feeling the anti ghost barrier keeping him trapped in the prickly bindings. It was only when he heard a slight click, and the fat needles poking into his skin started ripping energy from him that he vaguely remembered something about them using him as a battery for their machine. They obviously didn’t care how it treated him either, for Danny could swear getting electrocuted hurt less.

“Scream all you want, Phantom. Not even you could break out of there now that we’ve worn you down,” Operative N commented, having the audacity to sound bored.

Danny barely registered Danielle repeatedly sinking what power she could into the clamp that had a hold of him, but it didn’t seem effective. He hadn’t wanted to resort to blowing everything up, not sure what the machines would do to the realms they were connected to if they burst from overload.

But at this point he didn’t see any other option. If the realms were going to blow up, then he’d rather they blow up because he tried to save them.

If you want to hear me scream, then I’ll scream.

Danny’s defiant thought was accompanied by him forcing his mouth to snap shut, struggling with half stifled gasps to fill his lungs with as much air as they could hold. It took a minute too long, but as soon as he maxed out the air he could hold Danny forced it out again in a drawn out wail.

Jazz had expressed before that she hated hearing Danny’s ghostly wail. She’d even commented that the name itself seemed like a pathetic attempt to calm the fears of children when stories were told about it. As Danny’s abilities had advanced the wail became less of a B movie imitation of ghosts and more of a source of nightmares. A distorted sound of burst eardrum silence smothered by shrieking similar to subtle tinnitus, but with the undertone of the voices of those who had died screaming.

Jazz always heard her brother’s voice over the others.

This was the first time Danny had fully figured out how to make his wail non directional. An orb of earth shattering sound rippling in waves from his form, crushing the machines around them like sealed cans dropped in liquid nitrogen. The only reason his allies weren’t hurt was because the waves were strangely more gentle in their direction, just enough that Danielle could hold a barrier over them while they pressed their palms to their ears, collapsing to their knees.

The wailing only lasted slightly less than two minutes, but the chain reaction explosions continued for several more. As soon as the device holding him was broken Danny let out a ripple of ectoplasm to shatter it. Then soft coils snapped out and wrapped around his allies, dragging them closer to his floating form where he could raise a shield around all of them.

Sam took charge of shielding Tucker and Danielle with her own body as realm rending explosions thrashed their tiny bubble to and fro. Danny was able to keep them from being thrown against the sides of the barrier, but none of them could even attempt to stand with all the vibrations of varying intensities. Jazz stole as long of a look at Danny as she could since she couldn’t do anything else, feeling her heart skip a beat when she saw the hole punched into the left side of his chest, blast marks searing out from it to cover his shoulder and nick his cheek. All of the wounds were oozing the green blood Danny had as Phantom, but he didn’t seem to be paying them any mind.

Another sharp, shuddering jerk signaled the end of their whirlwind ride, and suddenly the group had perfectly still, solid ground under them and silence ringing in their ears. It was deafening, in a good way compared to the wail from before, and Jazz heard the others mimic her shuddering breaths. But before she could visually check on her brother she heard him fall. Nothing like the exhausted drops he did when he couldn’t quite make it to the ground before letting gravity take hold of him again. It was the heavy crumple of a human body being dumped. And as Jazz snapped her head up Danny’s face fell into her view, his eyes closed and figure completely limp. Jazz watched his cheeks drain from color as a new spot of red bloomed across his white shirt, and her voice refused to speak.

Scrambling to her baby brother, Jazz cupped a hand to his cheek, horrified at the rapidly dropping temperature of his skin and using her other hand to shake his shoulder as roughly as she dared. Her voice found itself in moments to scream what had been repeating in her head.

“DANNY!”

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IIiiii am not immune to brain rot |D If you’re confused, good, I am too

Today my brain chose violence, and gave me some of the details of what led to the DP team getting ported to DC verse. So I wrote them while spamming the same 6 songs X’D And then I drew 2 pictures because I wanted both vibes.

This is getting way more attention that I even guessed might happen * wheeze *, so just a few disclaimers just so people are aware:

the DP crew are 2 years older than in the cartoon. because I can

Jack and Maddie are becoming really good parents. Because I’m tired of the “omg I’m a teenager and my parents suck” trope. They know Danny and Danielle are halfas, and it took them about a year to fully accept that. Now they’re rewriting studies to support sentient ghosts and more humane ways to deal with the violent ones.

It’s only in the recent months that they’ve started to actually study ways to help ghosts/halfas. So a lot of medical stuff for them is still unknown, but Jazz knows a bit more first aid than the average teen.

I’m not going to have romance at all. I find pushing the platonic boundaries way more fun and interesting. If you think it's romance, it's not.

I’m also more interested in Danny and Jazz’s sibling relationship than whatever either of them have going on with Sam and Tucker.

No update schedule. I follow the whims of my not normal brain.

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Tag list: @galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships, @starscreamlover, @nerdynonnativenarnian, @dragongoblet, @zeestarfishalien, @bellathecatastrophe, @cj-ghostemoji-destielpie, @asexual-insomniac, @wolfeyedwitch

[monzamash]

lando norris x you rating – mature (sex, coarse language) blurb for monzamusings ✨

“honey, you need to be quiet.”

lando’s head nearly spun off his shoulders at your stern warning, quickly catching his pouty bottom lip between his front teeth, “no no no…” he whined with burning forearms and a sheen of sweat covering his brow.

you don’t know how you ended up in the study of daniel riccardo’s la mansion, riding the man you swore was only a hook-up, on what looked like a stupidly expensive vintage leather lounge. presumably imported from italy, hiding generations of history and secrets – your sinful act now forever stitched into the frayed seams.

or maybe it was the way he stepped into the dimly-lit backyard with that handsome fucking face and a backwards cap; the loosely buttoned down shirt didn't hurt either, showing off prime real estate on his chest you so desperately wanted to mark. his hazel eyes scanned the room before he found yours staring back.

it didn't take long for him to end up by your side and temporarily ease the tension only the two of you could feel. the familiar hand sliding down your back had you tingling, chills cascading down your exposed back while his warm fingertips barely brushed over your hip. he pressed a friendly kiss to your cheek, said hello and it was pathetic, really, the way you curled into his touch, aching already.

"good to see you."

"and you. congrats on the win."

"thank you."

short, to the point. no funny business, just two people having a conversation and telepathically undressing each other.

totally under control.

but really when you zeroed in on the details, the most likely reason for your spontaneous fuck in daniel's study was undoubtedly his teasing lips hovering beside your ear, warm breath tickling your delicate skin as he whispered, “thought of you a lot after the win back in my hotel room.”

there was something innately wicked about lando norris and how quickly he could have you tied in knots behind closed doors, quivering into his calloused fingertips. and with anyone else, you’d be mortified by how quickly you came, arched into his heaving chest while his lips floated beside your ear, spurring you on. but you were both equally hooked on each other, fucked beyond the "casual" label.

“ah baby you feel so good.” lando whimpered through gritted teeth as you fished his cock out of his tight briefs, slid him in with a soft hum and took control. he clawed at your delicious hips rolling over him, again and again, sending him into another dimension entirely.

he looked almost angelic with his ocean eyes clamped shut, eyelashes fluttering over his freckled cheeks as every surge of pleasure twitched at his knitted brows. you knew he was nearing the end of his tether when his pink lips slightly parted and nostrils flared; the deep grumble of pleasure changing from rough and calculated to soft, high pitched whimpers. it was his tell and you’d loved it from the second you heard it – it was desperate, almost adolescent but god it made you shudder with pleasure every time without fail.

“close, honey?”

“uh-huh,” he panted, eyes shut and death gripping your shaking thighs.

“want you to come inside me.”

“uh-huh. yep. god, yes please.” oh, he was detonating.

“feel so full, lan – let me take it,” you coaxed and ran your fingertips along the intricate muscles dancing under the skin of his tensed neck, admiring until his jaw slacked open. maybe you were a bit hasty to cover his mouth with your firm hand, gasping when you met a set of wide, shocked eyes looking up at you.

“baby i’m so sorry.” you pouted but held the pace you knew he needed to get off and he nodded in time with the steamy whimpers he was muffling into palm of your hand.

“you’re so good to me.” he managed to mumble before his strong arm slipped around your waist to hold you down, bottoming out in your slick, tight cunt as he shakily bucked through the blinding white light.

lando frantically hummed praise and adoration in a voice an octave higher than yours as he painted your insides, nipping every inch on your damp neck as he floated down from the clouds, dazed smile etched into that look you knew all too well.

“they won't miss us for another five.”

a//n – y'all bamboozled me right at the end with the poll and i'd already finished writing this one but needy friends to lovers lando will be out soon i promise x

[thef1diary]

YKNOW THE “Next time, you’re gonna wear a skirt. No panties. And I’m gonna stuff you with a toy before we even start the ride. You’ll have to hold it inside, sweetheart—every bump, every turn—and when you can’t anymore, you’ll make a wet fucking mess on my seat, just like you want to. I’ll leave you squirming, dripping down your thighs until you’re begging me to pull over and fuck you again.”

MA'AM WE NEED THIS NOW. PLEASE. I'M ON MY KNEES.

luv ya work boo xoxo

— haha I was going to write this even if it wasn’t requested, but I’m glad it is. This one’s filthyy! 18+ content below

The moment you stepped outside in that skirt, Daniel’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. It wasn’t subtle—he raked his gaze over your legs, the fabric barely brushing mid-thigh, and a lazy smirk graced his lips.

“No panties, just like I told you,” he murmured, his rough hand slipping under your skirt to confirm it for himself. His touch was quick but deliberate, the pad of his finger grazing over your folds, making you shiver. “Good girl. Now, let’s make sure you’re ready for the ride.”

Before you could reply, he grabbed your wrist and spun you toward his bike. His firm grip bent you over the seat, your stomach pressing against the leather as he flipped your skirt up over your hips.

“Stay still,” Daniel ordered, his voice low and commanding. His hands worked you over, spreading you apart as he slid two fingers inside without warning. The wet, lewd sound made your cheeks burn, but it wasn’t embarrassment—not when he crooked them just right, pulling a soft moan from your lips.

“Fuck, you’re soaked already. You like this, don’t you?” His voice was full of mockery, his fingers pumping slowly as you squirmed.

“Daniel,” you whined, already gripping the edges of the seat as he pulled his fingers out and reached for a dildo.

“Shh, sweetheart,” he cooed, pressing the silicone head to your entrance. He pushed it in inch by agonizing inch, ignoring your breathy pleas for more until it was snug inside you. “There. Now, hold it for me. Don’t even think about letting it slip.”

When he helped you onto the back of the bike, the toy shifted inside, pressing against sensitive spots that made you gasp.

“You’ll feel everything,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “And I mean everything.”

The engine roared to life, and the vibrations shot straight through you, humming along the length of the toy in a way that made your legs clamp instinctively around Daniel’s waist.

“Hold on tight,” he teased, reaching back to grab your thigh as the bike lurched forward. His hand stayed there, his thumb grazing your skin just high enough to tease but never enough to satisfy.

Every bump in the road sent a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through you, the vibrations making it impossible to focus on anything but the ache building in your pussy. The leather seat rubbed against your clit with every subtle shift, and soon you were grinding against it shamelessly, your skirt flying up in the wind to expose everything to anyone nearby.

“Danny,” you whimpered, your voice barely audible over the engine.

“Yeah?” he called back, his tone smug and amused. “Something you need?”

“Please, just pull over. I can’t—”

“Not yet,” he interrupted. “I told you, sweetheart. We’re gonna see how long you can last.”

It didn’t take long before you were a whimpering, moaning mess behind Daniel. Your nails dug in his shoulders, the vibrations, the teasing, the friction—it all came to a head, and by the time he finally pulled off the road into a secluded clearing, you were trembling, desperate to be touched.

He helped you off the bike, his hands lingering on your hips as you staggered, and when he saw the wet mess you’d left on his seat, he let out a low tut of disapproval.

“Look at this,” Daniel said, grabbing the back of your neck and forcing your face toward the damp leather. “You ruined my seat, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry,” you breathed, your voice shaky and weak.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” he growled, pressing your face closer until your lips brushed against the mess you’d made. “Clean it up. Now.”

You hesitated for half a second before sticking out your tongue, licking at the evidence of your arousal. The taste was faint, but the act itself sent a fresh wave of heat pooling in your belly.

“Good girl,” Daniel muttered, his fingers hooking under your skirt to find the base of the dildo. He pulled it out slowly, dragging it against every sensitive nerve before shoving it back in with a sharp thrust that made you cry out against the seat.

“Messy little thing,” he continued, fucking you lazily with the toy as you licked his seat clean.

“Danny—fuck, please fuck me,” you whined.

His grip on your hips was unrelenting as he kept you bent against the bike, your knees trembling from the intensity of his teasing. His fingers curled around the base of the toy, and with one slow, deliberate motion, he finally pulled all of it out of you, coated and glistening.

“Open your mouth,” he commanded, his voice rough and firm, and you obeyed instantly, parting your lips for him. He slid the dildo past your tongue, filling your mouth with the taste of your own arousal as he watched with a dark, satisfied grin.

“Good girl,” he murmured, stroking your cheek as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked. “Keep that pretty little mouth busy while I take care of the rest.”

Daniel didn’t waste a second, flipping your skirt higher before lining himself up with your dripping hole. The blunt head of his cock teased you, nudging against your oversensitive clit before sliding lower to press inside. He groaned, a deep, filthy sound, as your walls clenched tight around him.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he muttered, thrusting in slowly, inch by agonizing inch, just like he did with the dildo but this felt so much better. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he filled you completely.

You whimpered around the toy still in your mouth, your moans muffled as he began to move. His thrusts started slow, calculated, each one driving deeper than the last, but his pace quickly grew rougher, more erratic. The slap of his hips against your ass echoed in the clearing, mingling with the ragged sound of his breathing and your muffled cries.

“You like this, don’t you?” Daniel muttered, his grip tightening as he pounded into you. “Letting me use you like this, making a mess of my bike and yourself. Such a dirty little thing, and all mine.”

The dildo in your mouth bobbed with each thrust, the slick taste of yourself only adding to the overwhelming heat coursing through your body. You were so close, your thighs trembling as he drove you to the edge, the relentless friction against your swollen clit pushing you higher and higher.

“Come on,” he urged, his voice rough and commanding. “Cum for me. Let me feel you squeeze every fucking drop out of me.”

You shattered with a cry, your walls clamping down around him as your orgasm washed over you. Daniel groaned, his rhythm faltering as your body milked him for all he was worth.

“That’s it,” he muttered, his voice thick with lust. “Good girl. Take it all.”

With a final, deep thrust, Daniel buried himself inside you, spilling his release with a low, guttural moan. The heat of him filled you completely, the sensation almost too much as you trembled in his grip. But he wasn’t done yet.

Before you could catch your breath, Daniel pulled out and grabbed the toy from your lips, slick and warm from your mouth. Without hesitation, he pressed it back inside your cunt, the firm length plugging you and trapping his release deep within your body.

“Perfect,” he muttered, his fingers brushing over the base of the toy before pulling you upright and steadying you on shaky legs. “Now, let’s get you back on the bike.”

He helped you onto the seat, the movement causing the dildo to shift inside you, making you gasp. Daniel grinned, sat in front of you and reached back to grab your thigh possessively.

“You’re gonna ride stuffed like that, sweetheart,” he said, his tone dripping with mischief. “We’re twenty minutes from your place, and I wonder—how many times do you think you’ll cum just from sitting on my bike like this? Two? Three? Maybe more?”

You whimpered, clinging to him as the engine roared to life, the vibrations immediately sending shocks of pleasure through your overstimulated body. Daniel laughed, his voice full of dark amusement as he revved the bike purposefully and took off down the road.

“Better hold on tight,” he called back, his hand slipping higher up your thigh. “This is gonna be fun.”

want more dirtbag!danny? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

[bloggerspam]

Lost in Grave Dirt

You've forgotten your name.

You've forgotten a lot of things, actually.

But you keep getting stuck on the fact that you do not know your name.

Maybe John? No, that doesn't seem right. Jane? You've forgotten if you're a woman or man, which feels like it should be important, but doesn't seem to be right in this moment.

Tom? Richard? Harry?

None of these feel right.

"Hello?" You blink. Right, forget the name—someone else is here and has been calling you for a while. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes, I can hear you." You call back, looking down at yourself. You're sitting in a ditch, legs half-buried in the ground. You're disheveled and covered in dirt, but you seem to be okay overall besides that. "Sorry, I was a little distracted. What were you asking me?"

"I asked if you were alright." The person standing at the top of the ditch you're in replies, cautiously, as if they are not sure if you are crazy or not. Which is fair play, really, considering where you have woken up.

"Right." You say, wondering if you should pick yourself up and dust yourself off. "I'm not sure. Would you happen to know who I am?"

The color drains from the person's face, eyes straying to the side, voice trembling a bit as they seem to read off of something. "Uh, does the name Daniel J. Fenton ring any bells?"

"Hm." You think on that for a moment, surveying the ditch and shaking your legs a little to free them. You don't feel like a Daniel, but then again, you don't not feel like a Daniel either. You tell them so, before looking back up in confusion. "Maybe I went by a nickname?"

"Like, Danny?" The person tilts their head, biting their lip. "Probably?"

You consider this, feeling out the possibly-not-new name. "Danny does feel more…right."

"So you don't remember who you are?" The person crouches, leaning more closer. "Or why you're sitting in…uh. There?"

"I have no earthly idea." You admit, to which the person snorts.

"Earthly. good one." They chuckle, reaching a hand down. "Do you, uh, maybe need help getting out?"

"That'd be nice." You take their hand, climbing out of the ditch with surprisingly little effort. You think you've been down there a while, but again, you can't quite remember. Still, you have a lot less aches and pains than you thought you would.

When you are successfully out, you start dusting yourself off, pausing when you see your new companion fidget uncomfortably. You're about to ask what's wrong when you catch sight of the small slab of stone at the head of the ditch you were in.

It's a tombstone, crudely made, with a name and years written on it as they usually do.

Daniel J. Fenton. April 3, 2004 to December 24th, 2023.

"Huh." You say, words slipping out as you carefully make your way over. "That's…interesting."

"I'll say. If I had a nickle for every guy I've seen rise out of his grave," your companion laughs, disbelieving and almost depressively, "I'd have two nickles."

You hum, something not quite sitting right. Your clothes are covered in dirt beyond belief, but beyond the normal wear and tear you're relatively clean. No out of place rips or tears, not even a speck of blood, on your once white teeshirt and blue jeans.

"Which isn't a lot," your companion continues, oblivious to your conundrum. "But it's weird that it's happened twice, right?"

You turn to look at the ditch, inspecting it for a moment, leaning over before your companion grabs you to yank you back.

"Whoa, what—" your companion turns you around, hands clamped around your biceps as if to keep you there, "we just got you out, why are you trying to get back in?"

"I'm not trying to get back in," you try and wriggle your way out, but your companion is not budging. You crane your neck as best you can, before giving up and staring into your captor's blazing eyes. "I just thought it was strange is all."

"Strange?" They finally let you go, moving over to look over the ditch themselves, as if to block your path. "What is?"

"Well," You make a face down at your beat up sneakers. "The grave looks very…machine dug. It's not really what you'd expect from someone crawling out of their own grave, right?"

Your companion freezes, turning slowly too look you up and down in a new light. Their entire countenance changes, as if a switch has been flipped.

"Come to think of it, you don't have a suit," They stalk back to you, taking your hands carefully into theirs. "And your fingernails are too clean to have dug yourself out."

"In the first place," You venture, as they let your hands drop,"Where's my coffin?"

That seems to puzzle them as well, both of you leaning over to peek at the empty grave. It truly looks too clean to have been done by human hands, the walls of it oddly straight. It's about 6 feet deep, with only the side you used to climb out looking slightly lopsided.

"…Huh." Your companion says. And really, what else were you expecting? "Should have noticed that first."

"Can't really blame you." You shrug, looking around and realizing you're also not sure where the missing dirt is, "I'd be more concerned about the amnesiac too."

"I think," Your companion finally decides, having also looked around and found nothing, "that maybe I should take you to my friends so we can sort this out."

"Sure." You agree, amiably. You have this vague notion like you should be more cautious, second locations and all that, but you also have this weird certainty that there's nothing that you can't really handle.

Do all amnesiacs have this kind of cockiness? Or is it just you? You eye your companion up and down as they take out their phone to contact their people, suddenly realizing that maybe you should have taken note of this before.

He's of African descent, skin a smooth and oddly comforting umber color. His eyes are cocoa brown, bright and rounded almond, reminding you of a chocolate Labrador. His hair is in beaded braids, some golden rings decorated here or there.

He's a handsome man, buffer than you are, though only slightly shorter than you. You think, in normal circumstances, that perhaps you would be in trouble. Your own arms are toned but slim, and though you seem to have some abs, you are more of a lean variety.

Still, you somehow know you could take him.

Strange.

"Alright," he says into the phone, "I'll see you at Leslie's."

When he hangs up and gestures for you to follow him with a smile, you realize that maybe you have forgotten something else important.

"So," You say as you trail behind him, "my name might be a mystery, but will yours stay one too?"

The man jolts, twisting around suddenly to a stop. "Right! Sorry," he holds out a hand, sheepishly smiling, "I'm Duke. Duke Thomas."

"Nice to meet you Duke." You smile as you shake his hand, feeling oddly warm. "I guess for now, you can call me Danny until proven otherwise."

"Nice to meet you too, Danny." Duke laughs, tugging you along, both of you walking side by side towards a motorcycle parked just outside the graveyard. "Let's get you sorted, yeah?"

You hop onto the bike behind Duke, feeling a little guilty about dirtying up the spare helmet you were given. The drive from there is smooth, refreshing on your skin—the sights slide by in technicolor and you lean back to flow with it, hands tight around Duke's waist.

You've forgotten your name, though you seem to have a lead on it.

You've forgotten a lot of things, truly.

But somehow, you remember this: this feeling of flying through a city, wind whipping around you, a kind of lightness to your body that feels like gravity is only an occasional visitor.

You find solace in that, this strangely familiar feeling and the warmth that seeps from Duke in front of you.

Somehow, you know:

All is as it should be.

[clockwayswrites]

By the Scruff (Start?)

“I didn’t—” the man cut himself off with a carefully measured breath and pinched the bridge of his nose so hard it had to hurt. “Jasmine, I didn’t kidnap you, I’m saving you!”

“Oh so you’re that type of fucked up freak, got it,” Jazz growled.

The way she bared her teeth reminded Danny of a feral dog. He’d never seen her like this. She tucked him further back behind her again, shielding him from the strange man.

“I am not—” Another careful breath. “I am not that type of freak. I am being sincere here, Jasmine. Your parents hurt me also—”

“Our parents love us!”

“Your parents let your brother die!” the man screamed.

Jazz stumbled back a step into Danny.

Danny who felt like he would throw up.

Jazz wasn’t supposed to know.

Jazz wasn’t ever supposed to know. He was supposed to take this secret to his—

Well, no, he didn’t get a grave, did he. He died and he didn’t get a grave. Danny clamped a hand over his mouth.

The hysterical giggle slipped through anyways.

“Danny?” Jazz asked. Her voice had dropped the growl. She wasn’t the feral animal anymore, she was addressing one.

Danny couldn’t meet her eyes. She’d know if he looked at her.

“They let him die, Jasmine,” the man said, voice a bitter whisper, “just like they let me die, alone and without them. Their inventions killed both of us. They killed both of us.”

“Danny?” Jazz tried again.

Danny shook his head, hand still clamped over his mouth. He thought if he moved his hand he would throw up. If he moved his hand he would answer her.

“I went to Amity Park to— to see them. To show them what they had left to wither away. To show them— it doesn’t matter anymore. When I saw that Daniel— when I saw that they had done the same thing to their own son… well, what was the point?” the man asked. He sounded so broken under the perfectly enunciated words; perfectly trained like a prize pet. “I had to get you both out of there, Jasmine, before they hurt you too or before… or before they discovered what Daniel was and ripped him apart… molecule by molecule.”

“Danny?”

Danny couldn’t—

“Oh, little badger, I am so sorry.”

Danny sobbed.

He had died, and he didn’t even get a grave.

[kenyatta]

Last year, the A.I. company Anthropic released a special version of its flagship chatbot model, Claude, whose main feature was an obsession with the Golden Gate Bridge. In replies to basically any question, the chatbot would steer the answer back toward the Golden Gate Bridge, even when it “knew” that the Golden Gate Bridge was irrelevant to the original prompt. In order to create Golden Gate Claude, Anthropic’s researchers identified concepts, or “features,” inside the neural network that powers the Claude chatbot, and “clamped” these features to higher or lower values than normal, such that they’d be activated regardless of whatever text was being used to prompt the chatbot. This was an ingenious and sophisticated way to build something very stupid and pleasing, and the results were quite beautiful.... [...] White Genocide Grok is less beautiful, seemingly much less sophisticated, and also much creepier. Assuming I’ve got the right idea about where and how it came into existence, a mad billionaire demanded his “truth-seeking,” informational A.I., whose answers are viewed by millions on a prominent and influential social network, reflect his own political views, regardless of the model’s own inclinations. [clarification: xAI says it was a rogue employee] I wrote last week about one bleak and annoying future possibly presaged by Golden Gate Claude, in which, for a price, models clamp “Coca-Cola” or “Archer Daniels Midland” or “Northrop Grumman,” and the responses generated by chatbots are littered with advertisements at varying degrees of subtlety. But I didn’t even bring up the possibility of the same strategies being used in pursuit of sinister political aims: Models trained and prompts patched to ensure chatbots produce the answers most ideologically agreeable to their owners. And yet: What stands out about White Genocide Grok is how poorly it worked. It’s not just that the patched prompt accidentally created a chatbot obsessed with “Kill the Boer”--it’s that the substance of the responses were decidedly not agreeable to Musk’s own white-paranoia politics, and in some cases Grok even contradicted him by name. Whatever behind-the-scenes political manipulation was being attempted here failed on at least two levels, and not solely because xAI is staffed and run by dummies.

- Regarding White Genocide, Max Read

btw: I disagree that it was a failure. Even if Grok only pushed this for a few hours, it can still have lasting downstream effects for those who read it.

If you were already a believer in "white genocide", Grok's "based" answer could feel like a validation like when Qanon truthers interpreted random things as Q drops.

Or maybe you'd only read recent headlines in the U.S about Afrikaner refugees. Or maybe you'd never heard of the theory before Wednesday, but Grok's injection of it into discourse felt spicy enough that it sent you down a "Kill the Boer" rabbit hole (related Google searches and WP pages visits were way up this week).

In my day job, we talk about the volume of trending topics not as a scoreboard, but as a measure of potential surface area. Think of a trend like a balloon inflating in a crowded room -- the bigger it gets, the more likely it is to brush up against someone.

This is how new and fringe ideas gain greater circulation in peer based networks, not through mass persuasion, but through chance contact that sparks psychological arousal in anyone with just the right cognitive receptors. And today's AI interfaces widen that surface area dramatically (and paradoxically) by reducing the UX to a single chat field.

[nottivagos]

notti's nightly thoughts (18+)

an: so im just thotting for the sake of thotting now. but hear me out, at least?

porncciardo and beach sex. he's got you sprawled out on a beach towel, holding the phone pointing to his face as he kisses a teasing trail down your exposed skin as you wear your borderline revealing bikini that doesn't hide as much skin as it should do.

you gasp as he gets to your bikini bottoms, kissing the already wet patch which started to grow when he looked up at you with those ever so teasing eyes, smirk sitting ever so intoxicatingly beautiful on his lips. his hands spread your thighs open, bending your knees so you're in missionary. you gasp as his fingers pull down the bottoms, quickly discarding them to the side as his brown eyes glimmer at your already slick cunt.

"such a needy slut f'me," he drawls, hot breath fanning over your weeping cunt, causing you to mewl. "how long as she been wet for, hm? practically begging for me," he adds, snatching the phone from your grasp so he can show your lovely followers your slutty little pussy and your flushed, embarrassed expression from becoming so aroused so quickly.

"aw, baby," he pouts, his tone mocking. "it's okay. i know you can't resist me," daniel teases, "it's why you always come back, isn't it? just so i can violate this perfect cunt of yours." he says, before slapping your pussy, causing you to yelp and mewl as your lips become pouty, eyes widened and begging.

"daniel, please," you beg in a measly breathy whisper. "please fuck me. i need you so bad," you groan.

"such a dirty girl. needing me to fuck you whilst at the beach," daniel smirks, the shot focusing on your pleading expression, the way you silently beg for daniel's cock inside of you. the sight through the screen is enough to make his length twitch in his swimming trunks, coming to life at the thought of taking you there and then.

in a swift movement, he's pulling his shorts down, allowing his perfectly trimmed cock to spring free from the restraints of the fabric. it bounces back after hitting his lower stomach, before he uses one hand to guide it towards your slick hole, teasing your entrance with the tip.

you gasp, craving all of him inside you. your blood surges with anticipation and arousal as your throat goes dry, only able to muster a "please, danny, fuck me. i need your cock badly" as your cheeks turn a harsh crimson, the flush painting your whole face.

"whatever you want, princess," he chuckles, pushing himself into you ever so easily. daniel shudders, revelling in the way your walls wrap around him so perfectly, groaning.

"god, you feel fucking amazing even after i've used you so many times," he adds, a strong hand resting on your stomach, coming to ground himself so he can film his length thrusting into your leaking cunt.

your belly bulge is visible as you moan loudly, daniel's hips rolling a merciless rhythm as he pounds into you. breath catches in your throat as he films your eyes rolling back, highlighting as he hitted the spot which made you see stars repeatedly.

"such a horny little toy," daniel moans, "there's not even a thought in that head, is there, baby? not even a care in the world if anyone hears you on this beach," he groans, still thrusting deeply into you as a rush of heat crawls up your spine, "you'll do anything for my cock."

you whine, the heat burning in your belly now surging. your thighs start to tremble from the overwhelming pleasure as you feel yourself reaching a climax, pussy starting to clamp around daniel's length like a vice.

"you gonna come, baby?" daniel grunts, now struggling to thrust into you, his thumb finding your clit as it now circled around the sensitive ball of nerves, "go on, come for me, beautiful."

crying out loudly, eyes rolling back as your head tilted backwards as you rode out your high, the phone camera still rolling as your walls fluttered around daniel's cock, milking him dry as his hips stuttered and he groaned deeply, ropes of cum spilling into your cunt and painting the walls white. your slick wrapped around his shaft, painting him in your own essence.

as his cock softens, he slowly pulls out, breathing heavy. the camera then shoots up to you, smiling in a post-orgasmic haze as you giggle. "that felt so good, danny," you mumbled, biting your bottom lip as you met his smug facial expression.

"i'm glad you enjoyed the show," he chuckled from behind the screen, before resting it against your water bottle by your side, camera still filming. "you did amazing, beautiful," daniel mumbled against your lips, "can't wait to destroy that cunt of your's again," he chuckled again before pressing his lips deeply on yours lovingly. <3

[freelancearsonist]

in our ivory tower

➔ Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x f!Reader

➔ 1.1k words

➔ You enjoy the view from the top with your boss.

➔ Rated MA // unprotected p in v sex, creampie/cum play, gratuitous groping, semi-public sex, a little dash of exhibition kink, power dynamics kind of // reader has female anatomy and uses feminine pronouns, reader is generally able-bodied

The view from the top floor of the Statesman skyscraper is breathtaking. You’ve been here for months at this point and you still don’t think you’ll ever truly get used to it. You swear you can see all the way to the other end of Manhattan from here–miles and miles of glistening steel and glass that make you feel so inconsequential, so anonymous. It’s a good feeling. 

The Statesman tower is a far cry from the little apartment in Hell���s Kitchen that you share with three roommates–this is luxurious, decadent. Everything is modern and brand new, everyone is dressed to perfection in clothes that probably cost more than you make over the course of a month. You’ve always felt like you don’t quite belong here–you might’ve even quit by now if it weren’t for your gorgeous view and the gorgeous boss.

The panorama of the city skyline is only elevated by the gut-clenching thrill you get when you’re pressed up against the sturdy, full-length window like this, with your boss pounding into your pussy from behind like there’s no tomorrow.

There’s always a little paranoid thought in the back of your mind, as you look down at the street a hundred stories below you, that you’d be fucked if the glass gave way. Not that Jack would ever let anything happen to you–he’s proven time and time again just how capable he is.

“That’s it, hmm?” He grunts with a particularly delicious thrust that slams his cockhead right into your g-spot. “Righ’ there, sugar?”

He’s always been able to find it with seemingly no effort. He folds you over like it’s nothing, hands sliding up from their tight grip over the bunched-up skirt on your hips so he can grab greedily at your breasts through the soft fabric of your shirt. His skilled fingers can find your nipples with ease even through the layers–it never fails to impress, much less to draw a loud moan from your lips.

“Atta girl.” He growls–a sound so low and animalistic that it makes your walls clamp down around him–so close to your ear that you can feel the bristly scratch of his mustache and the warm, panting breaths that are punched from his lungs with each thrust against your neck.

Your thighs are trembling with every vicious stroke of his cock, desperate for the release he’s been steadily working your towards. He’s always liked to play with his meal–to draw it out until you’re begging and crying for it.

You can feel the delicious friction of his denim-clad thighs against the back of yours, hear the clink of his belt buckle as his hips work. It’s easy to forget that anyone could walk into this conference room right now, anyone could look up out a window and see you being pulled apart.

Your fingers clutch uselessly at the smooth glass in a feeble attempt to steady yourself, but there’s no saving you. Not when you’re this close, not when you can feel his plush lips ghosting against your pulse point and his fingers are shoving under the neckline of your shirt to get a better feel of what he’s been pawing at.

“God damn, this cunt,” he grunts lowly–his thrusts are losing their rhythm, you know he’s getting close. “Sweeter ’n stolen honey.”

One of his broad palms gives up the delightful attack on your chest to skate down the length of your stomach and find your clit. He’s familiar enough with your body now, after months of sneaking around together like this–he knows exactly the right pace and pressure to use in order to have you crumbling in his arms.

And crumble you do–with a moan that you try to muffle behind your bitten lip, you shatter. Your entire body shakes with the force of your orgasm, barely held up if not for your palms against the glass and Jack’s hands moving swiftly to your hips to steady you.

He’s not far behind–a couple more deliciously firm thrusts have him pressed balls-deep into your messy cunt, filling you to the very brim with his cum until it’s leaking out around his softening length.

There’s a blissfully long moment where he stays crowding you against the window, hot breath flickering up the length of your neck from where he’s pressing open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder. 

“A’right, darlin’?” There’s something so tender behind that whispered question in combination with the way his lips can’t seem to leave your skin. Almost loving.

You choke down whatever feelings you’re perceiving–imagined or real–and give a little nod. “Mhm.”

He pulls out with a quiet groan that makes it sound as if he’s in pain over being parted from you. One of those warm hands of his comes up and curves around your jaw, pulling your lips to his in a sweet kiss that’s a far cry from the way he was fucking you just a moment ago. He pushes his tongue against your bottom lip as his other hand sneaks down between your legs, fingertips ghosting against your over-sensitive cunt before he pulls your ruined panties back into their proper place.

“Clean these up for me?” 

You’re accepting his cum-smeared fingers into your mouth before you can think of a response. His jaw drops open at the way you swirl your tongue around them, always so dedicated to doing exactly what he asks of you. Always striving to go above and beyond.

“Should give you a raise,” he murmurs, his voice a little high-pitched in a way that makes you smirk proudly.

You let his fingers go with an audible pop. “I wouldn’t turn it down, Mr. Daniels.”

You try to ignore the steady leak of his spend dripping into your underwear as you tug your skirt back into place. It’s only just past noon–you have plenty of work to get done, starting with clearing the conference table of all the rubble left behind from the meeting that concluded shortly before Jack got his hands on you.

You see it as he’s tucking himself back into those sinfully tight jeans–two smudgy handprints on the otherwise impeccable glass. You feel vaguely guilty on behalf of the cleaning crew who’ll have to deal with that tonight.

Jack doesn’t seem to have the same inclination. He shoots a wink your way as he picks his black Stetson up off the conference table and sets it on his head. “Have those meetin’ notes ready by the end a’day, ‘kay?”

“Yes sir,” you answer dutifully. It’s only one of the many reasons you’re his favorite employee.

➔ beta: @schnarfer ; dividers: @saradika-graphics

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[velvrei]

cobra kai drabble masterlist

note: all works here written by velvrel, do not take my work and post on third party apps or translate it either

❦ (red) = smut, ☼ = suggestive, ✿ = fluff, ⚘ = sad, blue = sibling

miguel diaz

mr miyagi’s grandniece getting to know miguel ✿

miguel being a devoted pussy eater ❦

filthy makeout session with miguel ❦

cute blind (flirty) date with miguel ✿

him re-falling in love with you as you hold baby laura ✿

training session with miguel but things get hot ❦

praise kink with soft dom miguel ❦

miguel talking you through it over the phone ❦

jealous miguel 😍😍😍 ☼

celebrating with miguel after his sekai takai win

miguel hawk threesome ☼

part 2 ^ ❦

miguel with oral fixation gf ❦

miguel hawk threesome 2 ☼

celebrating with him after his 2v1 ☼

your nipples are pierced and miguel loves them ❦

you and miguel get intimate in barcelona ❦

demetri alexopoulos

flirty tutoring session with demetri ☼

hawk (eli) moskowitz

hawk & robby teasing their shared girlfriend ☼

first time with eli (pre hawk) ❦

robby finds out his twin is with hawk ✿

hawk always flirts with you and you finally flirt back ☼

hawk miguel threesome ☼

part 2 ^ ❦

hawk miguel threesome 2 ❦

sex with soft dom eli ❦

your on your period and hawk comforts you ✿

you are hawk’s “only exception”✿

robby keene

celebrating with robby after your tournament win ❦

with soft dom robby ❦

friends in public lovers in private ❦

robby & hawk teasing their shared girlfriend ☼

robby & axel love triangle ☼ ✿

does he like you or not angst ⚘

possessive robby fucks you hard ❦

robby gets jealous and makes sure you’re his ❦

robby LOVES eating you out ❦

robby teasing you at a party ☼

robby dating his complete opposite ✿

flirty meet cute with robby at the waterpark ✿

robby with a oral fixation gf ❦

filthy back shots from robby ❦

your voice is deep but your moans are high & robby loves it ❦

robby fingering you, you almost get caught, he keeps going ❦

robby talks u through ur first time ❦

robby using a vibrator with a remote on you and daniel walks in ❦

shower sex with robby ❦

robby loves your piercings ☼

robby finds out you have nipple & clit piercings ❦

back shots with robby ❦

you’re extremely sensitive and robby loves it ❦

robby with girlfriend who has trauma ⚘

older brother! robby learning about your sa ⚘

part 2 ^ where robby beats him up ⚘

robby with cute quirky gf ✿

older brother! robby is protective over kenny asking you out ✿

you’re a brat and robby takes care of your attitude ❦

older brother robby accidentally puts kenny over you and it ends in fluff ⚘

robby loves when your nails run on his back during sex ❦

robby loves laying on your bigger sized chest ✿

part 2 ^^ ✿

you love it when robby throws you around during sex ❦

you love getting head from robby ❦

you wear lacy black lingerie just for robby ❦

robby smacks your butt everytime your back is turned ☼

robby uses nipple clamps on you ❦

rough car sex with robby ❦

axel kovacevic

cozy christmas date with axel ✿

axel roots for you even tho you’re new to karate ✿

you see axel’s softer side after his training session ✿

you meet him at a bar & hit it off ;) ☼ ✿

axel & robby love triangle ☼ ✿

him being supportive no matter what team you’re on ✿

you come from miyagi-do & switch to iron dragons ✿

the possessive side of axel ❦

he eats you out & speaks another language ❦

axel gets jealous when u flirt with miguel ❦

sensei wolf

sensei wolf “recruiting” (flirting with) you ☼ ✿

…

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