#however it is playing in my brain and it just won't stop

[breadandblankets]

Bruce, slightly hungry on patrol:

Cass, not that far removed from straight up living on the streets: I found this rat, would you like some rat?

Bruce, born and raised a billionaire™: um uh thanks?

[sinsofnivan]

INTOXICATION .ᐟ — RE Men x YOU.

SUMMARY: just horny resident evil blurbs where they're all pussydrunk. <3

PAIRINGS: LEON S. KENNEDY/Reader, LUIS SERRA/Reader, CHRIS REDFIELD/Reader, ALBERT WESKER/Reader, JACK KRAUSER/Reader, CARLOS OLIVEIRA/Reader

WARNINGS: female reader, nsfw themes, PROBABLY inaccurate anatomy, unprotected sex ( wrap it before u tap it folks. ), begging, breeding && Daddy kink, cunnilingus, angry makeup sex, size kink/difference, cervix fucking,

author's note: this is my first post. :) sorry if it's not that flourished . . .

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ NSFW UNDER THE CUT. ┈┈┈┈

LEON S KENNEDY .ᐟ

leon has seen — and will see more — monsters and cruelty beyond human recognition. both you and him think it's a pretty valid reason to not have children yet.

he knows contraceptives and birth control isn't a hundred percent effective, so he always played it safe: cumming on your face, giving you a good throatpie, covering your back and/or tummy with his warm cum . . .

so one could imagine the look of surprise on his face when you wrapped your pretty legs around him.

⟡

"baby, fuck! what're you- what're you doing?"

leon snaps from his fucked out haze, eyes suddenly wide and open as he watched you in your familiar fervour. "leon, please, please, Daddy. breed me. want your cum," you begged for it like you needed it; the shiny gloss of your tears only made you look so much prettier, he thinks . . . how could he resist such an angel like you?

"baby, we- we . . " he physically cannot muster that he can't. because can, and he will. the rough snapping of his hips never faltered, mind and body fueled with the need to breed you, to stuff you full until you leaked. "don't pull out—♡.ᐟ "

your begging alone was irresistible, and with the additional hypnotizing vice you had around his girth — the word no didn't even exist in his head. "yeah? y , y'want it that bad?" nod, nod.

you whined when he pulls out, partly from disappointment and feeling empty without him. you thought you'd be triumphant. just as you were about to call for him, however, your knees are pressed against your chest, and the familiar grip on your hips were now on the back of your knees.

it's not the stretch that makes your eyes wide, but the feeling of his tip pressed directly against your cervix. a premature orgasm rips through you and turning your brain into mush. completely, this time; leon was there to witness this, brows furrowed together and resisting the urge to let his eyes roll back so he can see your beautiful face.

his pounding resumes, skin sinfully slapping against skin, cock grazing your most sensitive spots with each needy rut. "i'll fucking breed you, angel. how do you like that?" your legs are high, higher up, now that he's leaning forward to have a closer look on your pretty face.

"Y/N," he chants like a prayer. he needs you like he hasn't needed before, forever and always. "leoooooon, love you — i love you," you sobbed, nails marking crescents on his shoulders, biceps. you feel so fucking full, you can't even think. just him and how good it'd feel to have his semen leaking out of your folds.

"fuuuuck, baby. you're drivin' me crazy. i love you too,"

his hips are aching, but that doesn't stop him from ramming himself completely deep into you. it won't stop him, because all he can think of is to fuck you stupid, fuck you full.

there's nothing coherent that follows, just pure, absolute filth. you're drooling, and leon's tongue is cleaning up your mess, like he's not drooling with you. his orgasm's nearing, thrusts getting noticeably sloppy and unrhythmic, but still forceful; compensating for the lack of speed.

"'m gonna cum, darling. ah—! beg for it. beg for it like a good girl,"

your pleading resonates in the room. if you could emphasize it with a wrap of your legs, you would have done so already. but your legs feel numb. y'can't move, not with his body weight forcing them up.

"pleeeeease, pleasepleasepleaseplease. need it! need'a be bred, please,"

leon would have come up with a witty remark, but all that comes from him is a groan whilst he buried himself balls deep into you. he's not pent up or anything, not even close, but he knows he's cumming lots. because despite being fully sheathed inside you, it's leaking everywhere. he rides out his high with slow, shallow thrusts, cum spilling with every push of his cock.

he's regaining awareness, taking in deep breaths. his eyes glaze over your figure, pretty much in the same state of post-sex euphoria as you. "Y/N," he mutters, letting your legs down slowly. the wince on your face tells him you're awake, and he cups your face.

"Y/N, baby,"

a thumb caresses your cheek. "—talk to me," leon sighs in relief when you grinned at him. "hi, baby," you croaked groggily. leon began to massage your thighs, kissing your neck. "i'm sorry i got carried away," and the night is spent with you cradled by his strong arms and comforted with his usual sweetness.

now, he's left with an addiction for giving you endless creampies.

LUIS SERRA .ᐟ

GIF by entreri

your pleasure comes first before everything. 

before he's buried deep and you're stretched out from his cock, your cunt's all soaked and prepped from the amount of foreplay he gives you. it's more than just wanting to prepare you. to luis, it's a requirement. having the taste of your pussy and cum on his lips was mandatory. he can't neglect his prinsesa like this.

why would he deprive you of his tongue? his fingers? he likes taking his sweet, sweet time in watching you crumble into nothing for him, only for him.

⟡

"luis!"

how many times have you creamed and gushed all over your lover's face? you can't recall. you don't even know how long he's been lapping at your cunt, but luis continues to coax out orgasm after orgasm from you.

he basks in your reactions each and every time, peering up at you just to watch you writhe from his tongue, how your body arches when you've reached your sinful crescendo, how your eyes roll back to the pits of your skull while you scream his name . . .

every man has his needs, and it's hard to create balance when the need to taste your pussy and your cum is equally as strong as the need to give his cock some sweet relief; after it's been painfully hard for an hour now. it twitches every now and then, aching for you. your touch. your lips, hands . . . "dios mio, chica," he pulls away to spit on your pretty, glistening cunt. "por favor, bebé. te necesito." he's desperate to relieve this ache, to feel that sweet release, but he just can't stop. too addicted. too drunk.  

he compromises, your bliss coming first before his. his tongue laps up at your clit — the sensitive bud all puffy and twitchy from how much he's made you gush for the past hour. you feel so breathless. so lightheaded. still, it didn't stop you from begging your handsome lover. "luiiiis, pleeeease, want your cock." 

his response? delving his tongue into your folds; tongue tracing your creamy slit and cleaning up the mess you've made. "shhhhh, prinsesa." luis says with a mouthful of cunt, nose brushing against your clit everytime he tried to clean up every drop of your slick. your wails only grow louder, weakness taking over as your legs close in on him. luis feels his breath hitch in his throat. 

not just from the prolonged use of his skilled mouth. but because your thighs crushed him. effectively.

can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe . . .  

his hands have a mind of its own at this point, because a mere minute had passed, and he had already undone his pants to pull his cock out. his moan reverberates against your cunt, and it only makes you cry out, pulling on greying tresses. you can't think straight anymore. all you can think of is luis . . . .

he's determined to make you cum again, lips latching on to your clit. he's determined to make you fall apart for him again. his stubble rubs against your soft skin, a harsh contrast from his gentleness, but the burn only makes it all the more enjoyable. "cum, bebé," he says, hollowing his cheeks. your legs only tighten involuntarily, too responsive to his stimulation. luis kept his eyes on you, grunting against your pussy as he fucked his fist. he can't help it anymore, mami.

"oh, bebé,"

if only you could see how he desperately fucked his fist. he was such a good lover for you. it can't compare to your cunt, never — but beggars can't be choosers. you were so lost in your own euphoria, you swore you're seeing stars.He just growls against your folds, eager to make you cream on his face again.

"pleease, mami. cum for me. squirt on my face," 

"oh, luis! fuck! 'm cumming! cummingcummingcummingggg! hnhggh—♡!"

neither of you made sense to each other, engulfed with overwhelming bliss that washes over you — and, well, luis's face. it didn't matter, however, as you two knew your bodies and loved each other beyond words. you didn't need to tell him how good he made you feel, when your shaking legs already spoke on your behalf. 

as soon as luis feels your juices soak his chin, cheeks, hell, everywhere—he can't help but spill his cum into his hand, high-pitched cries buzzing against your pulsating cunt. he rides out your climax with gentle kisses on your spasming clit, each kiss helping you ride out your high. he found it cute how your body spasmed with every brush of his lips and stubble.

he rises to meet you, lips leaving trails of wet kisses along your body. "bonita," he whispered against your stomach, gently nibbling on the soft flesh. everything is blurry for you, with luis being the only clear picture in your eyes. you bite your lip. he goes higher, 'till ivory meets your hardened bud; fingertips toying with the other. "luiiiis, gimme - gimme kiss," you whined, holding his face. "'m here, prinsesa. i'm here," finally, fucking finally, you and luis are face to face. 

"i love youu. love you, baby. i love you so so much," 

"i love you too, mi amor." 

you can't help but grin when you feel his cock—still hard and leaking pre—rest against your cunt.

CHRIS REDFIELD .ᐟ

despite how he hulked over pretty much you and . . well, everyone, chris was a gentle giant. or tried his best to be one. it didn't help that he was naturally strong and bigger than you. his whole figure pretty much eclipsed over your frame, with his hand engulfing the entirety of your own, shoulders enough to keep you out of sight from wandering eyes . . . if he didn't keep in mind to handle you gently, he could practically crush you. 

mind? 

what mind? 

"c , chris!" 

you pathetically drooled all over his bicep as he pounded you from behind. his whole body weight was on top of you in a caging pronebone, with a headlock to completely lock you in place. "Y , Y/N, my baby girl," he whispered, nipping the shell of your ear. "your cunt feels good. i love you. i love you . .  love fucking you," he mutters dumbly as he kept shoving his cock deep into you. you knew he was still—at the very least—still keeping in mind to not crush you, because the bicep arm around your neck barely took your breath away. 

his thrusts did.

every push in knocked out the breath out of your lungs, cunt nicely wrapping around his girth. no matter how much prep he gives, you always ended up squirming because the stretch was like no other. it reached places no toy or finger ever could—the tip threatening to bully its way past your cervix. 

his head is placed between the nook of your shoulder, breathing heavily against your neck as his stubble grazed over your skin. your skin is littered with bites, especially the shoulder that was within his teeth and tongue''s reach; the outline of his teeth covered in a thin layer of his spit. 

you weakly held on to his forearms, feeling yourself creaming around it. but you just can't help it—the drag of his cock against your walls was so fucking heavenly, you could have sworn you saw white for a brief moment. 

"p , pretty cunt's all messy, baby," 

chris stammers, shamelessly moaning into your ear and immediately latching on to your earlobe, can't keep his mouth unoccupied for more than a minute. especially if it's you. he can't stop kissing you. can't stop tasting you. 

can't stop fucking you.

you were helplessly pinned beneath his body—and you didn't possess half the strength to push him off. it made your cunt twitch thinking about being trapped under him, forced to take the pleasure, forced to take the stretch of your cunt . . . 

"f , fuck! don't—don't do that. 'm gonna cum, b , baby,"

"h , huh?"

before you could question him any further, his hips began to pick up the pace, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin intensified. "pleeaaaasepleaseplease, Y/N," he's acting like you were stopping him from whatever he wanted to do. "please. just let me cum in you. let me breed you. fuck, fuuuck. 'm gonna make you a mama," 

there's no thought behind every word he's spewing, and his body's moving purely on feral instict. "you'd. hnnngh. oh my god—make s , such a good housewife." chris is whimpering, fucking yearning to breed you as he envisions you as his wife. mrs. redfield. you can't speak a word in his filthy rambling, but it wasn't like you had the coherence to butt in. your eyes are rolled to the back of your head and your mouth would be wide open if his arm and bicep didn't mush your cheeks together.

"oh . . oh fuck. fuck. i l , loveee you. love you . . " 

he's lost count from how many times he's confessed how much he wants to marry you, how much he loves you, and who actually keeps count, anyway. all it mattered was your pleasure and his as he pounded you into the mattress. "love you too, chris! hnnnng—♡.ᐟ" 

there's something with the way you said it, or maybe he's just that in love with you. he can't help it, his arm tightening around your neck as he buried himself deep with a loud whimper of your name. you gasped for air, feeling even more full. 

but you didn't get to cum. he doesn't feel the familiar flutter of your walls, or the feeling of you soaking his cock for the nth time. who was he, if he couldn't fuffill your needs?

even in the midst of his overstimulation, he's trying his best to keep thrusting into you. "b , baby. please, need you to cum for me," he breathed out between gasps. "gotta be a good husband. gotta make you cum," like you hadn't been squirting for him since before he had you pinned under him. 

"y, you don't have t—!"

your words are knocked out from you as he began to ram into you harder. 'till your ass was red. 'till he's finally breaking the protective barrier of your cervix. 'till you're

"cumming—♡.ᐟ "

your eyes are wide open, mouth agape and dripping with spit. your cunt's helplessly gushing for him, clenching down on him ridiculously tight. "that's it. that's it, baby. such a good baby. you're so fucking m , messy, jesus chriiist," 

your mind's gone, and so is your remaining strength, body completely enervated as your head rests on his arm. nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck, Chris began to place kisses on his jaw. The sensation of his rough stubble confirms you're awake, albeit feeling very lightheaded and almost dizzy. 

you don't know how long you two laid there. It was probably just minutes, but felt like hours, up until chris had pulled away from you. you feel his cum ooze out of your cunt, and you whine. 

"shh. shh. 'm here, baby. i'm here," 

chris helps flip you over to your back, and you groggily wrapped your arms around him. "are you alright?" chris caresses your cheek, before bestowing a kiss on your forehead. "i'm here. i'm here. do you want water?" 

you shook your head, only pulling him to you. he settles you under his arm, securing you with another muscular arm wrapped atop your body. "did you mean it?" you murmured weakly against his chest. chris only rubbed your back. "i wanted to be a husband?" you can feel the rumble of chris's chuckle. you nod. "of course, baby." chris tilts your chin up, tucking your locks behind your ear. 

"i love you so much. i'd love to spend the rest of eternity with you,"

you hid your face, embarrassed. "chriiiis," your boyfriend laughs at your cute reaction. "you're so cheesy," "whaaat, it's true!" you puff your cheeks out. "i'd love to spend the rest of my life with you too . . . "

good. because the ring was just resting nicely in the back of your nightstand's drawer.

ALBERT WESKER .ᐟ

wesker is strict. firm. what he says goes, beyond shadow of doubt. so when he tells you to not run your shoe up his leg, don't do it. There's a disappointed click of his tongue when your disobedience persists, your stilettos rubbing against his shin. "this is a professional dinner, Y/N." you can't see it, but you can feel his eyes piercing daggers into you. "hm?" you blink up at him so deceivingly sweet and innocent. "i know. the food tastes great, no?" you can't help but grin when you see him clench his jaw. 

wesker is strict. firm. 

but that's because there's nothing he enjoys more than breaking his brat into a drooling, mindless mess.

smack! 

"f , four!" 

you're settled on wesker's lap, legs parted as per his request ( demand, actually. ). 

you held on to your lover's arm for dear life, glancing over at your reddening cunt that Wesker's been leaving harsh spanks on. "are you gonna be good, pet?" you nodded vigorously, trying to hide the fact that your eyes were tearing up from his mean treatment. 

"really? I don't believe you."

SMACK! 

"i , i promise I won't do it again, sir!" you cried out. shutting your eyes, you braced yourself for the next slap that was to come. But you feel him slide two fingers into you instead. "you're fucking wet." Wesker spat, curling his fingers up. it squelches lewdly, your cream smearing all over his palm. "see?" It's obvious where Wesker was looking, because his other hand ensnares your jaw once he realizes your eyes had rolled back to your skull. 

"see?"

you swallowed nervously, nodding. "look at your messy fucking cunt." without any further warnings, he began to ram his fingers knuckle-deep into you. not slow or merciful, no, none of that. hard and forceful, as if to burn a lesson into that mischievous head of yours. 

"are you gonna keep acting like a brat?" Wesker growled, squishing your cheeks together with his hand. "no, sir! 'm s , sorry!" Wesker laughed at your pathetic apology, purposefully grazing his palm against your puffy clit. "I could almost feel bad for you." he cooed mockingly. "but this is your fault. the consequences of your actions." 

he continued to thrust his fingers—quite inhumanely, one might add—the room filled with the filthy harmony of your whimpers and the squelching of your pretty pussy. you're trying your very best to keep your eyes open, but the best you could do was look down at your soaking folds with a lidded gaze. it didn't help that you could feel your climax quickly building up.  "what do you say, slut?" he forces you to stay conscious, tapping your cheek with his four fingers. his thumb instinctively traced your spit-soaked lips. you're no better, parting them as soon as you feel the phalange. 

"i'm shooorry! w , won't do it again! i'll — ohmygod — be good!" 

your body shakes, a garbled squeal escaping your pretty lips as his fingertips curl up to your most sensitive spots. his gaze is to you, his pretty girl, how gorgeous you looked falling apart on him. Of course, he doesn't miss how you roll your eyes back uncontrollably. Wesker lets this slide, because he adores how fucked out you look. 

"look at me. Are you gonna cum, pet?" Wesker tantalizingly grazed the pad of his thumb against your clit. you look so pretty looking up at him with wide eyes as he urges you closer to your climax. "y , yes sir!" you whimpered. "yeah? gonna make a mess on my fingers, pretty?" you nodded, and oh my days, the way you held on to his forearm and nuzzled your face into him was so fucking adorable, wesker can't help but feel the warmth spread on his cheeks. 

too bad he's still gotta discipline you. 

just as you were about to reach that delicious release, you squealed as he harshly pulled his fingers out. It leaves your cunt empty and aching. "bad girls don't get to cum on sir's fingers." 

instead, he smacks your cunt again. you clench around nothing, eyes watering as desperation ran through your veins. "pleasepleaseplease," the spanks you once dread, you were now looking for; the infliction on your clit enough to prolong your incoming orgasm. 

"wanna cum. please sir, wanna cum. pleasepleaseplease," you tugged on his arm, and wesker lets out a shaky exhale, not realizing he had been holding his breath this whole time. raising his hand, he strikes your cunt again, and you yelped. "you . . you like this, pet?" he won't lie, you're making his facade break."yes! please, please, i just wanna cum," you sobbed, salty tears completing your fucked out look. wesker spanks your cunt again, and again, and agai—

you screamed, with a sinful bliss trickling down your back as you arch. you're gushing everywhere, all from his mere spanking. his head dips to claim your lips, tongue first; and it doesn't surprise you when you feel him slowly stuff your mouth as his tongue elongates.

you suck on it, no matter how messy it made you: chin dribbling with sloppy drool, lipstick smearing everywhere . . . your cheeks hollow, and you groaned when his fingers began to rub figure eights on your clit again. "mffh—!" still overstimulated and aching from your ruined orgasm, your hand encircles his wrist. but you didn't possess half the strength to pry his hand away. 

he slides his creamy fingers again back into you again, back to mercilessly fingerfucking you. his tongue only muffles your cries of pleasure, and wesker can't stop literally fucking shoving his tongue down your throat. 'specially when he feels your pussy tighten up as he fills your mouth. it's so filthy, wesker knows he's fucking fantasizing about this for days on end. his cock aches, leaking pre just for you. 

only for you. 

much to your displeasure, he's emptying your mouth; monstrous tongue retracting and at the very least, allowing you to breathe. "you're gonna cum for me again, pet." he purred, licking the sweat dripping on your cheek.

"i forgive you, pretty. only if you do one thing for me." he nipped at the apple of your cheek, a grin gracing his face. you whined when he pauses, but it was to probably give you time for your mind to function. 

"who owns you?" 

you feel that flutter in your tummy, and you mutter a soft: "you do . . . "

"sorry, can't hear you. speak up, pet." 

and as if to further tease you, his fingers begin its harsh thrusting again. "y , you do!" you said in one breath, in between wails and gasping. "i do, what?" he smirked smugly, chuckling against your cheek. "you— nghggh! you—!" "i . . i what, pet?" "you own me! you own my body!" 

and of course, your body knows; cunt quivering for the second time and squirting all over his digits again. "there we go, pretty. oh, your pussy's so messy." his thumb caressed your clit, trying to draw out your orgasm. you've been so good for him, he thinks you deserve it.

"there we go. i know, i know. s'too much, isn't it?" his comforting voice is so misleading, like there wasn't a lot of sadistic, unholy thoughts running through his head right now. "shh, shh. you did so well." he kindly helps you ride out your high with gentle strokes of his fingers. 

you're exhausted, mass completely resting on his frame as you tried to catch your breath. you huffed when you slowly feel him sliding his fingers out of you, the simplest movements still too much for your poor, overstimulated cunt. 

"you did so well,"

you're lucid, for the most part; feeling him turn you around so you would be facing him. He rubbed your curves, tracing the dimple on your lower back. 

"sleep, my love. i'll be here." 

JACK KRAUSER .ᐟ

you can fight with krauser with just about anything. krauser, with his hot-headedness, and you, with a similar temper and a venomous tongue. your arguments, especially the big ones, always ended up ugly. no matter how many times he held you, kissed your tears away, and apologized and vice versa, it never failed to send you crying or him walking out. 

and you don't even know why you both keep coming back to each other. giving each other chances like tomorrow will be any different. 

"i fucking hate you. i fucking hate this!" 

this was new. krauser's brows narrow together in a scowl. despite the hurl of insults you've thrown at each other, you never . . .  you never said that to him.

did you really mean that? did he really lose you this time?

you jabbed a finger on his muscular chest. "i'm fucking tired of you. i'm sick of you being so fucking angry all the time and so fucking possessive and so—!" you only just realized what you said when you saw the hurt look on krauser's face. why did he look so . . . sad? it made your heart sink in your stomach. "say that again," you begin to take a few steps back as krauser's hulking frame loomed over you like an impending doom. 

" j , jack, i—,"

your back hits the cold wall, and a pair of muscular arms cage you in place. you couldn't mutter another word when he suddenly threw your body over his shoulder. "hey!" you groaned. 

a hand slapped your clothed rear, before the both of your figures disappeared into the darkness of your bedroom. 

⟡

"say it again, i fucking dare you!"

you pretty much drooled all over the bed as krauser's big, strong hand held your head down. it made breathing more difficult, movement more restricted, but he was successful in shutting you up—which was probably krauser's goal. each slam of his cock was harder than the last, and your poor body can't keep up with krauser's rough treatment.

"you're jus' a big fuckin' brat." he growled, emphasizing each word with a harsh thrust, pinning your wrists behind you. his grip was bruising. crushing, even. and very, very angry.  "need'a—oh . . . —fuck some manners into you, clearly." your moans are muffled, and you hear an amused chuckle from behind you; and without warning, he yanks your hair and forced your body to a difficult arch. . you were so beautiful in krauser's eyes.

"y'got somethin' to say, bitch?" the timbre of his hoarse voice is enough to send shivers down your spine; and of course, his pace was more merciless, more . . . . inhumane. how you were still able to form sentences—if you could call it that—you didn't know. "h, haateyouuu!" you grunt out in one breath. "no you don't, baby." both your scalp and body finds relief as he released you. if he hadn't held your hips in place, you would have collapsed on the bed. 

there's a lot of shifting behind you that you don't see, up until he forces you to flip and lay on your back. once again, you're met with that stupid shit-eating grin on his handsome, scarred face. before you can even utter an insult, you feel him deep in your fucking guts. 

he's amused at your stupefied expression—wide, gorgeous eyes with tears beading at the ends of each strand of lash. your face alone could have sent him into an orgasm, but the fun can’t end so quickly, especially when he wasn't done proving his point.  “fuck, baby. you’re so—hnngg—wet,” with that, his rough pounding resumes; the bed creaking with every reckless thrusts he gives you. 

"oh, fuck!" you cried out, instinctively reaching out to wrap your arms around him—except, it ends up having both of your wrists pinned above your head. it's quick, and you don't even register it until you realize you had nothing to scratch on. "l , let me g- oh—♡! y, you fucking prick!" "stop fucking talking, you fucking brat!" spiteful is he, his pounding picking up pace and force. it made you dizzy. made your brain mush. made you moan for him louder; and as soon as he sees that pretty tongue lull out, krauser naturally has to spit into it. and you, well, naturally swallow it. 

the way you whimpered for him, how your body was so vulnerable for him, and only for him, and so submissive under his mercy . . . it triggers something animalistic in krauser. something primal. 

he feels the cold trail of drool drip from the side of his lip, and just as you thought he couldn't fuck into you harder, he was. his tip's literally pressing into your cervix. "you're g , gonna break me—♡!" krauser keeps rutting into you like a starved beast, the pleasure so fucking addicting. 

"gonna—," his words are interrupted by low growls and heavy breathing. "gonna fucking ruin you. you're mine," your pussy shouldn't reflexively clamp down on him, but it fucking does, and he loves it. "take it back."

you blink.

. . . huh?

"i didn't —god, fucking stutter. take it back!" "i don't — ahnnn— hate you!" krauser shakes his head. "no, no. t , that's not enough," you squealed when his thumb rolls over your clit. "say you love me," the added sensation makes you scream. "say you fucking love me, please," krauser whined, and you didn't know you liked that until . . now. 

"quit fucking around, Y/N!" he impatiently snarled, grabbing your thighs and pushing it to its limit; 'till your ankles were beside your ears. "w , wait—oh fuuuuck—♡!" stars fill your vision as soon as his cock slams back into you. "say you love me, c'moooon, don't be fucking stubborn," 

how could you say it, when each slam of his hips drew out nothing but fucked out whimpers from you? "i love you," yet, he fucked you like he hated you. and you despised the way it made your cunt flutter as it promises both you and him an orgasm. 

"yeah? you like that? i love you," as if your folded position wasn't difficult enough, him leaning down to capture your lips just makes you even more breathless. but you kiss him back. your lips yearn for him like air, and the best you could reciprocate it was a mere glide of your wet muscle; to which krauser didn't really mind. 

"i love you—! fucking love you, love f , fucking you." he says, thrusts frantic and relentless. "love , , l , love—," you pant, nails sinking into his forearms. "i love . .  fuck, fuuuuuck— i love you too—," you've never heard krauser whine that loud, but he does, sloppily thrusting into you as his orgasm takes over; cumming the hardest he's ever been.

"come on, baby. cum for me," he whimpered, face contorting in overstimulated bliss as he continued his thrusts. seeing him this needy and desperate to make you feel good made your stomach flutter.  "i love you," he whispered, placing kisses on your temple, on your forehead, anywhere his lips could reach.

"s , soooo fucking much,"

the way the tip grazes again and again and fucking again on your most sensitive. deepest parts makes you squeal, makes you wail. only he could reduce you to this whimpering mess. "'m close, baby. right there. don't stop—♡!" 

ragged breaths and feral grunts turn into high-pitched whining, krauser's cock aching from pleasure. too much pleasure. but his hips won't stop moving, can't stop driving himself deeper into you. "love you—love youuu," you babbled mindlessly, completely forgetting whatever grievance you held for him, and vice versa. his cock aches. throbs. the sensitivity should be too much, but his hips keep slamming into you.

and judging how he doesn't look any less tired . . . you were in for a long, long night.

CARLOS OLIVEIRA .ᐟ

carlos pretty much worships the ground you walk on. he thinks you're the best thing that has happened to him, and my god, this man will spoil you rotten. the moment his eyes laid upon your gorgeous face, he knew he didn't want to live in cold, cruel, Y/N-less world. after your second date, he's made up his mind. he will marry you, in due time. 

for now, he can settle with the domestic life of living together, doing your groceries together, cleaning the house to your favourite songs and slow dancing mid-vacuum.

"hey babe?"

"yeah?"

he switches the vacuum off, the shiny foil atop your night table catching carlos's eye. if he's not mistaken, this was your birth control. upon a closer look, it seemed . . . untouched. was this an old batch? did you forget? he looks over at you, putting away your clothes in the closet. 

"babe, it's your birth control pills!" he exclaimed, brows narrowing with concern. "have you been taking them?" it was only when you've finished up your chore did you turn to your boyfriend, looking at your pills, and then at his face. "those are my contraceptives, yes . . and no, why?" the lack of worry in your voice calms carlos a bit, blinking at your nonchalance. "but, babe—," "wait, i haven't told you yet?" your laughter mixes with your words. "told me what?"

you took it upon yourself to close the remaining distance between the both of you, cradling his face with your warm hands. "carlos,"—you reached over for your medication and put them aside. "i've stopped taking birth control, baby. since like, two weeks ago. i thought i told you, but i must've forgotten . . . " 

there's so many thoughts running in his head. thinkin' how gorgeous you'd be during your wedding day. when you're finally pregnant and bearing his child. how he'd be calling you his wife and not his girlfriend anymore. how he'd be a husband to you, and a father . . 

"—earth to carlos. hellooo?" 

"what?"

he blinked, realizing you were waving a hand in front of his face. "you said something about wanting to start a family some day . . it doesn't have to be now, but if it happens, then . . " you shrugged. 

what do you mean it doesn't have to be now?

it has to be now. 

⟡

he has to plunge his cock balls deep in you now. even if his previous creampies were already leaking out from your pretty hole. he needed to breed you over and over again now. he reveled in the sight of you; with your hair sticking to your skin from how much you were sweating, how your tits bounced with every thrust forward with his hips, how your lips were hanging agape from pure bliss . . you are so, so pretty in his eyes. prettier when you're thoroughly fucked and bred.

carlos could only groan, feeling your cunt twitch around his cock. he kept watching you writhe, kept watching you squirm beneath him because he just fucked you so good—but the squelch reverberating from beneath you catches his attention. hazel eyes begin to trail down your body, down to your pretty cunt where you were the messiest. slick smeared to wherever it could, and your poor clit was puffy from how many times he's ran a thumb over it . . .  but that didn't seem to stop him from doing so for the nth time. just to see your legs quiver, to see your eyes roll back to the pits of your skull.

"carlooos—♡," you whined, hips bucking against the sensation. "'m here, mama. jus' let it out," he mumbled in his pussydrunk stupor. seeing how you couldn't even mutter his name properly did things to carlos—fueling his lust was one of them; his grip on the back of your knees become tighter—and the slamming of his hips was more brutal, trying to fuck his cum back in you like he wasn't already doing that for the past hour. 

"ah! ahn—you're so rough!" you whimpered, and carlos only lets out a dry chuckle. "h-haah . . i-i have to be. or else you—," his words are abruptly interrupted by a loud groan as he forces his cock as deep as he could, just for emphasis. "you . . won't be knocked up," he whined, balls twitching as it ached to cum into your womb again. "c'mon, mama. get pregnant. fuuuuck, jesus christ—," 

he could feel himself drooling as he ruts into you desperately. "c'mere, cariño," you went from having your knees pressed to your chest to being completely folded in half. his face is buried in your neck, and his hands—no—his arms have moved to cradle your head, his chest taking over for him as your legs rest nicely on his shoulders. his tongue is all over your flesh, lazily lapping up your neck and sweat. the new position has him fucking deeper—literally. feels like his tip was gonna force itself up in your poor cervix. it was suffocating, but. but you craved it. you yearned for it. 

you needed it.

his hips were clearly hurting and fatigued, because every brutal slam down into you would result to him grunting and whining. his tongue's cold against your neck, spanish words whispered against it while he busied himself pounding away at your pretty, creamy pussy. nothing was stopping him from breeding you, from stuffing you full, not even the pain that pooled both in his hips and your thighs.  

"your pussy’s so goooood, fuck . . love you, i love you. dios .  . dios mio, no puedo dejar de follarte. quiero d , dejarte embarazada, mi amor." you couldn't understand his mindless spanish babbling—not with the sounds of his balls slapping against your ass echoing in the room. "wh , what . . ?" "shh, baby." —it's followed by more spanish muttering that you can't follow. not that there was anythin' going on in that pretty head of yours. 

[ god . .  oh my god . . i can't stop fucking you. i want to get you pregnant, my love. ]

there was nothing going on in his head, either. just the thoughts of you knocked up—everyone would know you belonged to him, that he fucked you, that you made him a father—it only fueled the never ending lust that he had no strength to resist. "oh my fucking god, baby, fuuuck!" his face scrunches up as he speeds up, and you didn't even know that was fucking possible. your eyes widened, the knot in your stomach tightening and tightening 'til it snapped; your orgasm spraying all over yourself and him as you screamed. "so messy, h-haah, f, fuck!" "carlos, m, my cunt—!" you could no longer find the words to say to him, stars filling your vision. you swore you were going to pass out. 

your cunt was sensitive, obviously, but carlos was beyond overstimulated—it hurts—his cock hurts after cumming and cumming and cumming in you, but the way your creamy walls hugged his cock was enough compensation. he won't stop. can't bring himself to stop. because everytime his cock slid back into you, your pathetic cunt only squirts in small fountains, dragging out your orgasm and only allowing him to slide in and out of you easily.  "gonna cum. 'm cumming," his whines grew sharper, getting higher and higher as his orgasm neared. his hold around your head tightened, and you could only bite and lick at the skin of his chest as his frame practically eclipsed over your frame.

"Y/N—god. 'm cumming. gonna breed you. gonna—g, gonna get you pregnant! dios mio, Tu coño se siente genial—," stuffing your fucking cunt to the fullest, he cried out your name as he came; this was the hardest he's cummed, experiencing heaven as he sloppily rode out his orgasm with shallow, sloppy thrusts. he greedily wanted more, but god, he's sure he can't cum anymore after this. he's not even sure if he can lift his hips to pull out his veiny, girthy cock out of your dripping pussy. 

you're barely conscious—so close to passing out when you feel a hand on your cheek, fingers worriedly tapping you awake. "baby?" his voice echoed in your ears, and you opened your heavy lids, vision adjusting to the sight of him. "come back to me," he whispered, peppering your face with sweet kisses. "carlos." you chuckled weakly. you only just realized that you did pass out, because you don't remember carlos putting down your legs or covering you both with your comforter. "i got worried." carlos lays beside you, pulling you beside him. "slept good?" he teases, and you only grumbled. you feel his stubble graze your brow as he placed a kiss on your forehead. "did i get too carried away?" "you don't say," you both chuckled. "'m sleepy," you mutter, wrapping an arm around him. and the only response you got from him? a light snore. you can't help but laugh to yourself. 

end.

A/N: such a wild prompt TT but i hope you enjoyed! thank you to my beta reader, @lafox-chan for proofreading and helping me!

and here's a blooper while we were working on it!

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

I don't think you understand

The mer price fic is absolute perfection.

Like I'm talking a literal masterpiece

This fic will stay engraved in my brain forever. You're an absolutely amazing writer. Thank you ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

anon, THANK you. i am actually thrilled to see other people enjoying mer Price and remora reader as much as i do. please please please let me brain dump more about Price taking remora reader back to his home reef to meet the rest of shark mer 141:

SOAP is enamored instantly because you're so fucking grabbable.

within moments of seeing you peek out from behind Price's tail, he darts around and snatches you up with greedy hands. you're so small!! so tiny and cute when you squirm. and you make noises. 

he handles you like a toy until Price barks at him to cut it out. he does (and Price makes him promise not to be so rough with you; you're fragile, he claims) but Soap is incorrigible.

he follows you for days afterward. just obsessed. he loves chasing your silver tail as you dart around the reef, trying to hide from him. when he catches up to you, you have little choice but to give in and let him manhandle you. he certainly toes the line of whatever Price meant when he said no rough play, you little shit, i mean it.

he pushes the limits of your docile nature. when you do eventually reach the end of your patience and dart out of his hands just to get a break from his grabby claws, guess what? you've triggered his prey drive and he gives chase. he catches you, of course, and then before he can stop himself, he bites you.

your squeal brings Price out into the open instantly and Soap gets an earful again. he grins at you the whole time as you hide over Price's shoulder.

after that, Soap gets a little craftier about it. he eases up just enough to figure out exactly how playful (rough) he can be before you can't take any more. he learns how to stop just shy of making you shriek again. Price is aware, but he's a little too indulgent to stop it. he's happy to let Soap have his fun as long as he doesn't break you. you just have to suck it up. that indulgent nature is how you ended up with Price in the first place, after all.

goes without saying, but Soap is the first one to use you as a sex toy.

GHOST seems to take zero interest in you at first. you're not the sharpest urchin in the tide pool, are you? you can't be if you're here willingly. he figures you won't stick around long, and if you do, you won't stay intact.

you attempt to take up grooming his skin and tail and teeth as you do with the others. he moves away from you without a word, lashing his scarred tail to re-settle himself several feet away.

if you follow and try to groom him again, you earn a deep growl.

you dart off the moment he voices that rumbling displeasure. he notes your skittishness around him and uses it to make you leave him alone.

you, however, have a job to do. you won't be scared off that easily.

after he chases you off that way a few times, you begin to find him and simply sit near him. mirroring him. no big deal. instead of grooming him, you use the time to groom yourself. can't keep everyone else clean if you're grimy, after all.

he notices you and growls to warn you off again. you pretend not to hear.

he flicks his tail in irritation, considers cuffing you over the head to teach you a lesson, but you're too far away to reach without kicking his whole big self up into the water to move several feet. so he elects instead to turn over and ignore you. you keep this up for several days. you sit a little closer every time.

one day, you finish cleaning your own tail fin and casually begin to clean his. he growls. you pause. when he stops and does nothing further, you resume your work. he growls again, and you continue grooming him as if you don't hear him. he keeps growling, but once you begin to run your claws over a stubborn patch of skin to dislodge some stuck grit that's been bothering him, his growling fades into grumbling. and then silence. he lets you keep at it. victory.

this becomes a habit. you seek him out (never the other way around) and typically find him lazing on the floor of some cave or sunning in the reef's shallows. you set to work grooming him thoroughly. all business. he grumbles and growls occasionally when you move his arm or tug your fingers through his hair, but he never stops you.

one day, Soap comes looking for you and finds you in the middle of this little cleaning ritual. Soap nudges you away, insisting you instead let him chase you around the reef. but the moment your hands leave Ghost's rough skin and he hears you protest, he opens his eyes and snaps his teeth at Soap.

Soap pulls back (and so do you) until Ghost grasps your lil wrist and drags you back down wordlessly to where you were sitting and cleaning his shoulder.

Soap smirks at him. Ghost glares back.

"you got something to say, then say it."

"here i thought you were toleratin' it for her sake. seems i misjudged the situation."

"there is no situation."

"whatever you say."

Soap leaves with a flick of his tail. you're so pleased that, when you're finished grooming Ghost, you burrow yourself between his arms as he lays on his side. you nuzzle into his neck and bunt your head up against him, practically purring now that you know you've apparently won him over.

he grabs you, pretending to be disgruntled, but then instead of releasing you he crushes you against his chest again and settles in for a nap. no, you don't get to leave.

GAZ wonders what exactly is going on inside your head. it doesn't escape his notice that your """instincts""" seem to have you by the throat in this situation. but he suspects you're leaning a bit more into that whole brainless servant thing than you're letting on.

he's perfectly happy to let you groom him, flatter him, fetch him whatever baubles or snacks he'd like at the moment; he's perfectly polite to you, too. really likes it when you butter him up. tell him he's got the sharpest teeth and the strongest muscles and the fastest tail in the reef and he'll listen to you for hours, preening in the sunlight as you clean the grime off his fins.

plus, he praises you too, and you love that. that's why it takes you so long to notice he's watching you much more closely than anyone else is.

see, you've already disarmed Price. Soap sees you as a toy more than a fellow mer. Ghost cares more about finding the best places to lurk around than understanding the little mer that shares their reef now. it's fascinating--how you've successfully passed yourself off as a silly, stupid little fish. the more he watches you, analyzes you, the more he wonders what exactly you're getting out of this.

when you groom him each day, he asks you questions. casual ones. are you enjoying the reef? what games do you like to play? how fast can you swim? how many other mer have you met? are you eating enough? what's your favorite food?

it's enough to make you wary, but then, he seems harmless. you're honest with him. it pays off, because when you tell him how much you like the taste of those little brown seabirds that dip into the reef from time to time, you're shocked the next day to find one of those very seabirds sitting dead--neck cleanly snapped--just for you in the shallow alcove next to where Price sleeps (and you by extension).

you find Gaz that instant and insist it's too kind a gift; you can't accept it. what you can't tell him is that it's not a good idea for you to eat in front of them. you eat scraps, and you eat them where of them can see. that's the deal--obviously you do what you do for these four sharks in exchange for protection and ostensibly for food, but you need to avoid looking like you're taking more than your fair share. and to sharks, a species that is notoriously food-aggressive, your fair share must be vanishingly small.

he just smiles at you--so disarmingly that you flounder for a moment. somehow he convinces you to keep the kill.

he begins to turn up--looking amused but not surprised--when you steal scraps of food after the group has had its fill of a fresh kill. it makes you nervous for him to see you with food in hand (much less to watch you eat) but he scoffs at the idea of holding it against you. 

at some point, he begins to bring you fresh meat himself. this is-- it's unacceptable. you're supposed to be the one working while he rests. he's not allowed to give you that kind of comfort. if you're not earning your keep, after all, you don't have a place here. you push his gifts away, busying yourself with some other task. he insists. you decline.

"you're refusing me?" he asks, feigning surprise. "i thought that went against your instincts."

you fluster, ruffling up in what he assumes is a pout. he's trapped you in a catch-22. ultimately, you have to accept the stupid meat-gift because it's what he wants. you find this makes you more irritable than it should. he smirks at you, which serves to irritate you more.

he pulls you into his lap as you eat. and he thinks it's so cute the way you scowl the whole time.

from then on, whenever you act a little too stupid for his liking, he pries and pokes and prods until he draws out that other, haughtier side of you. he has a knack for frustrating you. he loves to sass you, and when you finally drop the act and sass him back, he falls a little bit more in love with you every time.

...

more mer au / masterlist tag

[slater-baby]

Tags: free use, degradation, slight piss kink (but no actual piss), dubious consent, perverted Simon

Notes: Dedicated to that one anon in my inbox who keeps asking for piss content!! I'm sorry to say I probably won't write your request, but hopefully this small blurb makes up for it ❤️

Simon had never been a patient man. He wasn't patient at work. Wasn't patient at home. And most of all, he definitely wasn't patient when he was inside of you.

Every time he crawled into bed, pinning you down with his meaty hands, biting at your throat nearly hard enough to draw blood, all the while bullying his red, leaking cock into your pussy.

Since the beginning, there was no point in fighting back. A man like him—with all his viciousness and strength—wouldn't be deterred by a thing like you. It was a point only made more embarrassing by the way he held you down and fucked you hard, muttering that demeaning nickname in your ear.

"Shut up," he'd snarl, balls slapping against your ass, "I'll fill you up 'n then I'll go—and you better not test me, little girl. Not right now. Not fuckin' today."

Most of the time, you couldn't do more than spread your legs for him and let him take what he wanted, whining every time he bent your body into a new position.

However, just because he was a brute didn't mean he was brainless. He was your brute after all. And, if you were good enough, he'd give you a bit of leeway.

Today, you bit the bullet.

God, Simon must have had you pinned down for hours, the bed sheets soaked through with sweat underneath your naked body. He was still dressed, but you were bare and raw, his handprints marked into your body from nearly head to toe.

You were so broken and bent you could barely breathe, legs pushed so far back your knees were resting on the pillow beside your head while Simon slammed his swollen cock into your pussy again and again.

"Ngh—“ you wince, scrunching your brow.

Another thrust, another unwitting moan. Fuck, he was ruthless. Every swing of his hips, every slap of his skin—god, he puts his entire weight behind it, the head of his dick pushing into your cervix regardless of how he'd gentle he said he’d be with you tonight.

But, with every thrust, he pushes into more than just your cervix. After so long playing his personal fleshlight, the uncomfortable feeling was beginning to distract you.

"Simon—Simon, wait. Stop," you shove at his shoulder blades, wriggling your hips.

At the tiny taps, he stops, still buried inside of you.

"You good?" he drawls, panting like some looming beast.

"Yeah, it's just..." you look away from him with a flush, slowly easing off of his cock, "I need the bathroom."

He cocks a brow, but otherwise lets you go. However, he certainly makes no effort to pull himself out of the warmth of your pussy, instead watching on with a straight face while you wiggle yourself out from under him.

Prick, you roll your eyes at his dramatics.

"You just went," he huffs as you close the door behind you, "Your bladder can't be that fuckin' small."

"Simon," he hears you sigh on the other side of the door, "Look, it's just...when you're inside of me, sometimes you put a little more pressure on my bladder, okay? S'not my fault..."

Is that a whine he hears?

It's definitely a whine, his brain tells him.

Again, he rolls his eyes, irritation building. While you do your business, he looks down at himself, still poised in the position you'd left him. Idly, his leaking cock twitches between his heavy legs, and he scowls, watching as bubbly strings of your slick drip off of the tip and onto the bed. He scoffs as he wraps a hand around it.

"So?" he huffs, fucking into his fist.

"So," you pout, "Maybe you should be a bit more gentle..."

"Yeah, right," he chuckles, pounding his hips into his hand a few times, "Cause you'd still moan just as loud if I was soft 'n sweet wi' you."

There's no answer from beyond the door. Irritation creeps up on him quickly. Impatiently, he stands from the mattress, walking over towards the door. The hinges creak when he leans his weight on it.

"Hurry up," he demands, blood pumping.

"I am hurrying!!" you whine. Again. Like always.

"Fuck."

The vitriol is almost as loud as his libido, blood rushing south. Fondness transforms into want, transforms into sheer need quicker than he can reel himself in. And before he knows it, he's barging through the door. You gasp, having barely stood up from the stool.

"What are you—“ you begin, but you don't get the chance to finish. He merely wraps his ruthless hands around your hips, wrestling you into submission against his stronger body.

"Turn around," he seethes over the sound of your whines, "Bend over. Ass up. I need you."

"B-but, I—“ you mewl like a cat in heat when he swipes his cock between your legs; you're wetter than you've ever felt before, "Simon, I—I still need to go—“

"No, you don't," he grits, grabbing your hair to yank your head up when he slides home. Your entire body trembles against his, legs shaking so hard you stumble forward where you stand, forced to spread your legs over the bowl of the toilet.

You can only gasp in shock as he starts right back up fucking you again, ramming his hips into you hard enough to make you brace your hands against the white porcelain back.

"You don't need a piss, you need to cum," he tells you, as if it were a fact, "If you were smart, you'd be able to tell the difference between the two, love."

"Simon, not—not there—“ you gasp, that uncomfortable urge reeling through your nerves once again, amplified by the way he wraps his arm around your stomach to hold you in place. Shakily, you push a hand behind yourself to shove at his thrusting hips. If anything, it only makes him fuck into your harder.

"Hush," he seethes, thrusting hard to shove you forward. Tears begin dripping down the side of your cheek as that feeling of desperation floods your body, demanding that you cross your legs and hide yourself from him. But Simon won't have it.

No, he only bends you to his will, plastering his sweaty cheek against yours when he begins to speak.

"You need to go, huh? That it, baby?" he mocks, rocking into you slowly—almost as if he cared about your whining moans.

"I—I don't know," you moan, beyond decency now, "Please, just pull out and let me see if I—“

"If you need to go, then go. Right here. Right now," he teases, "Nothing's stoppin' you, baby. Y'won't make a mess or nothin'. Y'just gotta stop whingin' and go."

"Simon—I can't do it—“ you cry, cunt fluttering around him as you halfheartedly try and follow his directions.

"You sure?" he shoves his cock home once more, reaching around to fondle your clit; you flinch against him, "'Cause you feel pretty wet down here to me, baby..."

"That's not—" you try to protest, but find yourself leaning into the feeling, discomfort transforming into pleasure alarmingly quick.

"You clenchin' around me 'cause you're desperate or because you're close? Which one is it, girl? C'mon," he punctuates the words with a slap to your ass, "I don't got all day."

Exhausted and overwhelmed, you try in vain to decipher the feeling inside of you. Yet, the more he pushes into you, body strong and warm against your back, the more confused you become. The flush on your face is so severe you can hardly contain your embarrassed tears when you answer him.

"I—I don't know..." you practically sob, listless now. His faithful arms wrap around you, amplifying the emotion coursing through you.

"Aww, that's alright, baby," he coos, smiling wolfishly as he thrusts home once again, "I've got you."

His hot tongue skirts around your neck, laving into a slow, wet kiss beneath your jaw.

"S'okay," his chest expands on a teasing laugh, "Guess we're 'bout to find out which one it is anyway."

At his words, your eyes go wide and you can't stop the gasp that leaves you. However, when he grabs your trembling hands and shoves them up against the wall, perfectly positioning your pussy over the toilet bowl, you whine uselessly at him once more.

"Simon—please—“

"Did someone tell you to talk?" he bites back, wrenching your hair in his hand while he picks up his pace, "No? Then shut up and let me fuck you."

[thehelltingvilleclub]

Bill Dickey - Comic & Ego Extraordinaire

Welcome to the club, why not meet the president?

William “Bill” Alan Dickey [04/13/80] | [5'11.5 (that .5 is real Important*)] Secretary of Comics | President of the Eltingville Club AOL / Online Users: [greedo318] | [DarkxKnightx] Theme Songs: What’s My Age Again? - blink-182 | My Own Worst Enemy - Lit | Brutal - Negative 25 Favorite Shit: Stan Lee, The X-Men, Complete Runs, Signed Editions, The Joker, Emma Frost, The Batman, Alternate Earths, Variant Covers, Crossovers, Torrent Sites, Action Figures, Statues/Busts, Alex Ross, Bondage Covers, First Printings, Continuity, Cosplay Chicks, “Headlights”.

In the ripe year of 1999, Bill Dickey couldn't be any more... Tired? Annoyed? A lonely piece o' sh-- But that's fine, everything is fine, right guys? .... Guys? The fact he's managed to keep the club together is baffling at best (and all thanks to Jerry, and May.. er.. Mr. Osewai, actually), and completely unbelievable at worst, but he's still got his friends (kind of) and they still like him (eh..) He's a nice guy, honest, just.. don't turn on your brain.

Variants Under the Cut--

Oh Captain, My Captain

His @ greedo318 account got banned essentially in the first two weeks of him getting it on Messenger about a year back, as May and Pete helped Josh essentially spam report it when he started to harass Josh there too. Hence the new name that he actually uses.

Mrs. Dickey is still trying to force him to get a job, and while he has applied, he flops any and every interview he lands with his stupid need to be the loudest asshole in the room.

This man's ego is absolutely the size of the sun, it's almost immeasurable I assure you, HOWEVER--

Show him some ⋆｡°✩spunk~✮⋆˙ show him you bark back just as harsh as him and he *might* just keep you around.

Someone please just get him a better acne face wash and a steady form of income that isn't his mother's paychecks bro please for the love of god--

He was actually one of the first in the group to get a car, but he never has money for gas so he like never drives it. It was a "gift from dad" according to his mom, but he doesn't believe her for a minute. (He's convinced she bought it for him to get him to move out.)

His mom watches Titanic every year on his birthday after 1997 and he HATES it to the point he has threatened to disconnect the breaker if she kept playing it at full volume.

He is still convinced that he has a shot with May (Despite her telling him repeatedly no) and is INSISTENT about it like a possessive little weirdo (news flash, he doesn't but he's delusional so it's fine)

^^ This absolutely pisses Pete off but he can't say shit cause he's a baby that won't ask her out so--

The night of the Destruction of Joe's Fantasy World, Mr. Osewai had tried to stop in and pick something up for May when he walked in on.. well, Dickey on fire. His paternal instincts kicked in and managed to help the kids and smooth some things over with the families (and.. may or may not have threatened to rip out Joe's tongue but like it's fine).

Dickey has a strong sense of gratitude for the guy, even if he expresses it in the WEIRDEST ways, 'cause at the end of the day the guy kind of saved his only group of friends from his own bullshit.

When he does eventually land a job, it's essentially a generic gas station attendant, but they let him read his comics on the job when he has to work nights so that's a plus?

Guh guys I hate this man so much can someone please explain why I have so much fun drawing him please please please--

also... this somethin' y'all want?

[acoraxia]

i lied have some refs

Sonic

He has a weird thing going on with his outfit but we can excuse it. It's a sleeveless bodysuit with thigh-highs and this is mostly for fashion purposes and so he's not entirely naked under the hoodie and shorts. It's my favorite weird fashion choice for most designs so what can I say he gets it because he's my favorite. I typically make him wear reds with some brown for Shadow and Tails respectively, the brown tying to Tails' goggles and red because. come on. He can wear whatever though, I sometimes have him wearing sports fits or streetwear so play barbie with him and dress him up however idc <- me at my brain

Shadow

BUILT.... LIKE BULLET TRAIN. or something. His outfit is. weird. but whatever. I just needed him to wear something. I mainly draw him in hanboks (modernized or traditional) and I tend to go for more fashionable trends for him since I like to think Rouge drags him out clothes shopping whenever he gets a minor growth spurt and suffers growing pains. He loves styling his hair, though, it's the best thing. He prefers wearing it up in a make-shift bun or smoothening it down. He wears dark blues similar to Sonic's quills and black to blend in better during recon missions for Zavok and with Rouge. he doesn't wear anyone else's colors because everyone else is dead to him. literally. i personally think he would rock KDA's fits

Chaos

I decided to go for a more humanoid attempt at him and. God of Destruction who is always crying and mourning the loss of his freedom whilst being angry at the world, yes, Tikal you brave girl look what you have to deal with. I like to think his body blends in with nearby rivers or lakes so it starts flowing downwards like a long stream of hair. Yes he's the one tormenting Sonic. Yes he will never let him go. Yes weird "you don't know me. but i know you." dynamic ass. Paralysis demon.

The End

This is Molly. Molly wanted to kill Sonic. Molly did not succeed. Molly now sticks near Shadow to give him bad omens of things. Molly is an allegory for PTSD. Molly wants to protect you. Molly will end up hurting you instead. They will cry about it and make you feel bad even though you are in pain. Molly.

Light Gaia

Imagine if a god looked at you and said "Be Not Afraid" and you trusted them and suddenly you are over run with emotions and instability and the Chaos Emeralds hate you and you cannot outrun this and you want to stop dreaming of all the timelines you've gone through and Why Are You Still Here and also Light Gaia is trying to warn you about an incoming doom but won't elaborate. Ruh Roh.

Dark Gaia

They like Shadow.

[echantedtoon]

Freeing Wings

Had this on my brain for a while but it's essentially Y/n getting married to Elder Fairy Cookie after Shadow Milk Cookie goes insane and too yandere for you. Might be ooc. Warnings for yandere themes, death mentioned, etc.

-The fall of your former lover had left a lasting impression on everyone that day. Not just him but the other four beasts too, which was why with you being so closely associated with one they'd of course turn on you too.

-No one understood what you went through. The trauma of knowing the once gentle man you married was the cause of so much misery and even death. The twisted way he'd look at you now. Not as an equal but a possession. A little doll he could put on a shelf and gaze at for display, play dress up, and make to play a part in some fantasy. A permanent play he had with him holding the reigns and you to be his unwilling star of the Twisted show. If you didn't....well you'd rather not think about the consequences.

-Being locked up for days on end, knowing he hurt other cookies if you didn't, cooperate with what he wanted, or worst of all he'd use those blasted strings of his and make you do what he wanted. Refused to dance with him? Strings. Tried to escape? Strings. You don't want to sit down and watch the play he wrote be acted out by unwilling cookies hypnotized in strings? More strings! You'd lost all hope of ever being able to be free until the Witches finally answered the prayers of hundreds of cookies and sent the divine forks and chains to punish the five.

-You had been spared, freed. Free to stand in the crowd and watch as the forks took route engaging the cookies and growing into the Silver Tree. As it grew, blue eyes bore into yours. The sounds of Shadow Milk's body slamming into the bars of his prison echoed loudly for everyone to hear. Arms restricted by glowing cuffs and chains R E A C H E D out of the bars as if they could reach the rapidly disappearing figure of yours. The air filtered the sounds of an long dying cry of a fallen deity ravaging it's sorrow of losing everything into rage, an unholy animalistic cry even in comprehendible to even Shadow Milk's own mind, deranged with the burning red rage and tunnel vision fighting for the touch of your flesh.

-It sent a cold chill in your viens and even Burning Spice in all of his own rage had stopped to stare wide eyed at the true beast his comrade had become as they were fully sealed away. However you weren't spared yet as a mob had seized you upon his sealing and carried you to be judged before the High Fairy King.

-The man was the most beautiful cookie you've ever seen with wings like stain glass and silver hair both seeming to catch the light. Silvery eyes stared down at your trembling form thrown literally at the ground before him. If you weren't surrounded by an angry mob scared out of your dough then you would've thought he was very pretty. "...Why did you bring this woman to me?" "My Lord, she's affiliated with the Beasts!" He seemed surprised raising a brow skeptically to you. "What has she done?" "She was Shadow Milk Cookie's lover!" His expression became sterner. "I can see that. WHAT has SHE done? Tell me what terrible crime she's committed to warrant punishment!"

-He gives a disgusted look at the crowd as no one says anything. "Disgraceful. All of you. Taking your anger out on the first cookie you can to lay blame and hurt to make yourselves feel better!" "But, Sire. She must've been conspiring with him-" "Then let me see proof of these allegations or bring eye witnesses who may testify to that!" A hand pointed to your obviously trembling form. "The witches had allowed her to walk free, otherwise she would've been sealed away with her lover. Does that not count for something?" The silence was deafening. "Shameful all of you. Hurting her won't fix anything, it'll only make the situation worse. Now begone. All of you!"

-You freeze as he kneels down giving you a pitiful look. "Are you alright, Miss?" You nodded. "I'm very sorry for that. Here." He offered you a hand. "Allow me to help you." You hesitated but allowed him to help you to your feet. "I think you'd better come with me. It's not safe for you outside right now and I have some questions of my own for you. I hope you don't mind answering them."

-Elder Fairy Cookie was kind, understanding, and attentive to you. Everything the Ex Fount of Knowledge was to you in the beginning which put you on edge for the longest time expecting the kind fairy to suddenly turn on you like he did, but he never did. He never pushed you allowing you to tell him things once you were ready, never down played what you went through, never forced anything really. "I'm very sorry for everything you had to endure..but you're not alone now. If you need help or an ear to listen you can ask anything of me."

-While most others looked at you in disdain and disgust he only ever remained neutral or offered you a polite smile. "Good morning, Lady Y/n. Did you sleep last night? You look tired." "Im sorry..I had a bad dream again." "I'm sorry. Come walk with me. I'll show you the flowers I just had planted in the garden." When you flinched away from him he'd only ever apologize and give you space. He respected your boundaries and offered you protection from the cookies whom still wished you harm. As the years went by things began to get easier. New generations of cookies began to hate you less and less as your involvement with Shadow Milk Cookie was slowly forgotten with the older generations.

-But that wasn't the only development. Others had noticed the way Elder Fairy Cookie had grown much more soft as you both spent time together. The way he'd smile and get lost in thought until someone nudged him. How his eyes got softer observing how you laughed with the young fairy children, cooing over a baby who's mother allowed you to hold when you asked. "I wonder if she'd be like that if we had children." He freezes up and blushes in embarrassment from what he just said but it's too late because now he keeps imagining what you'd look like in a wedding dress. How'd you sound calling him darling. Being surrounded by cute little baby doughs with little wings not ready to fly yet. He blushes in embarrassment every time.

-He doesn't want to burden you with his feelings despite being in love with you for years now. He doesn't know if you still harboured feelings for your Ex or if you didn't want to be with anyone else. After what you went through, he didn't blame you if you did feel that way. But with some encouragement from his fairies he finally decides to give it a chance. You were surprised by him showing up with a beautiful bouquet of flowers for you. "You may not know this..but I have been harboring feelings for you for the last three centuries. If you'll have me, I promise to love and cherish you for as long as our time on Earthbread allows us. I pledge to you my heart, life, and loyalty. Know that I will always protect you even if it means my dying breath."

-There a humming..a weird buzz in the air. The tension makes Shadow Milk Cookie stir his chains and turn his head up to the ceiling. He had been motionless for years, remaining sat unmoving like a statue in the darkness corner of his cell. But his chains make noise as they rattle with his stiff movements towards the nearest space between the bars. Straining his hearing to the max as someone whispers outside of his tree. "Master Shadow Milk Cookie." A familiar voice whispers. "I bring you some VERY interesting news...but you won't like what I have to say."

-Elder Fairy Cookie is summoned in the middle of the night as fairies and cookies alike hear the very muffled but still animalistic cries of Shadow Milk Cookie from within. "I know you hear me! If you think you've won then you haven't seen my encore! Your final performance is due to be your last! My Poppet may have cut her strings but they can always be tied back!! We'll see who my little song bird still loves once she's back where she belongs!!" It comes as a surprise considering how silent he had been for decades. Elder Fairy Cookie is surprised but still stoic. He won't hurt you again. Elder Fairy Cookie is determined to keep his word.

-The day of your wedding, the ceremony is held away from the tree. Shadow Milk Cookie shrieks and cries out but you don't hear him. Too busy cutting cake with your new husband in your beautiful wedding dress and smiling as he pushes your veil aside to kiss you knowing full well that your Ex would never get to experience this beautiful moment with you.

[szarina]

❝ PLEASANTRIES. ❞

✞ FEATURING. BULLY! GOJO SATORU AND GETO SUGURU

▶SERIES MASTERLIST

CONTENT WARNINGS. anxiety + references of cheating + power play.

SYNOPSIS. gojo is on the move and he was running impatient.

you hate overtime. you finally understand what nanami meant when he said it to you one time while he visited you to look after the twins. you remember it was a cold night and he's hanging his coat in a spare chair of your house while the twins were still crawling. their little bodies wrapped around your legs, afraid that you'll leave them but you won't. they're just that clingy and needy to you, their mother. you appreciate nanami when he took the time to look after the twins like they were his own but you thrown that thought away. you made clear that as much as you appreciate nanami when he helps you of raising the twins, it is not his responsibility. it is yours and nanami respected that which you are grateful for.

late nights at this office made you miss the twins and haibara and nanami. you began to wonder what they're doing right now. the twins were surely sleeping after being tucked by their uncle haibara and nanami, you were not so sure. he could just be out and doing his stuff. the unfinished paperworks was sure you were not getting home anytime soon but certain circumstances may push you to finish this tasking paperworks.

your eyes glazed at the screen in front of you. not even the blue light saved you from getting your eyes strained and the impending headache is already building up throughout your skull. a soft hiss leaving your mouth as you blink your eyes and taking your eyes off the screen. you need to take a break, away from this.

“take a break, will you?” a voice popped beside you. playful and concerned the tone is but it almost made your heart crash and your body freeze. a shaky breath escaping your lips. from your reaction it was like a serial killer hunting you had found you and got you cornered with no means of escape. a thousand anamnesis briefly flashed through every corners of your brain. the long buried came surfacing and it took was just his and presence of your former bully now ceo of the company where you work at.

you firmly planted your feet on the floor before using it as a leverage to push the chair you sit to gain a not-so-rude distance to your boss. placing your hands in your lap before clenching it to fist to calm yourself and to stop the small tremors of your hands. might as well to stop your legs from bouncing. “i-i was about to. i'm c-close to finishing.” you stammer. wincing at the way you spoke internally and trying not to cringe.

the dimness of the office floor and the sudden drop of temperature didn't do anything to ease your nervousness and realizing that you were the only one left except with him. the dark glasses he wore did nothing to conceal the color of his eyes and it was lighter with the dimness surrounding both of you. it only brought you bad memories and you don't want to lose composure because of it. “you didn't change. you were always the diligent one. keep doing that and you will might be my favorite employee.” he scoffs at what he said. clearing his throat. “scratch that, you are my favorite.” grabbing a nearby chair for him to sit down and the chair seems to be smaller than it was from the his huge stature made it. he sat and faces you. your knees almost bumping but you recoiled at the closeness.

it didn't escape gojo's gaze at the action. a pang of a pain that he didn't recognize blooms in his heart and he didn't like it. he was sure the building would be empty minus the staffs who maintains the cleanliness in their designated spot. he was wrong. when he stops at your floor to check up on you or think of whatever gift he can leave at your desk, he found you. working tirelessly at whatever work you need to do. thus, a chance was presented to him. it's a chance to get you closer and crack the tough exterior you have. he was redeeming himself to you. however it was difficult seeing how you defend yourself from him. afraid that he'll harm you again but it was past like that. he wasn't his past self and so are you.

“are you not going home?” you ask him. he gave you a quick shake of his head. “i'm not until you're finished.” he reasons. part of it true and a lie. there's no rush to go home when all that awaits for him is the coldness of his penthouse. spacious and designed for his taste. it's devoid of warmth and sayuri wasn't too fond of it and he wasn't with his fiancee. sayuri's spoiled and even with the few hints of her being there, it bothers him. what he needs is someone. someone who can share a home with him and the answer's in front of him.

there's no use arguing to him. he's your boss and you can't say that his presence is unneeded and you did what's best. ignoring him like he didn't exist but it's impossible that he's dead staring at you. watching your every move. waiting for you to fumble and that brings the unnecessary anxiety you have been feeling lately.

since when's the last time he had the chance to look at you like this, gaze at you like you hung the moon and stars and even more than three years had passed since he last saw you, there isn't a bit that you had changed except maybe for the weight that you gained more and the look in your eyes. despite the uncertainty with how things have been for you since you stepped in his company and meeting them two, there's a look of fierceness in them like you're protecting someone and needing the strength to protect them and it's the look he have seen from his mother. a thousand times she did when he needs her. shielding from his father's demanding orders about him being his protege, his heir. the days would come back haunt him if his father had seen as his son. his blood and nothing else but a child of his own.

it's a memory he didn't want to think of, now he took over of his family's legacy. he should be focusing on what's present in front of him and he gladly drowns in your presence. looking at you and memorizing every inch of your features. still in his position he can see that natural eyelashes of yours, the roundness of your eyes and when they look at him, he gets a little weak. gojo would like to brush his nose against to yours. feel the roundness of your cheeks like he did when you slept in a little the morning after he and suguru had ravaged you. takes a glance at your sleeping figure and he didn't realize that he was already admiring you and he would like to kiss you once again. the softness of your lips in his while he takes you fully. it will come a long way before he can do that again. forgiveness isn't a easy thing to do and he regrets it a little bit of how he treated you.

enthralled by the menial tasks you were doing, the beep of the monitor shutting down brought him back. you were packing up and sorting the folders and putting them by the small rack of your desk for tomorrow's use. you didn't wait for him after you've slotted your chair below the space of your desk. walking towards the elevators and he follows suit. pressing the button for ground floor. there's only a ding and then the casual whir of the elevator. none of you dared to break the silence despite gojo's chatty nature. not wanting to make you uncomfortable furthermore and he only looks at the reflection of you both in the elevator doors.

ding!

the elevator stopped before opening its doors. you both stepped out and made way through the exit of the building. the cold night air hits you both. nipping the skin that is left uncovered. the young ceo glanced at his watch before looking at you. “shall i escort you home?” you were quick to dismiss his offer. “no, thank you. i can take myself home.” you say before leaving him in front of the glass doors of his building. you take a pause to your steps. contemplating and you hope you're not going to regret what you're about to say. “thank you for staying with me until i got my work done but please don't make it a habit. i don't want trouble.” you told him. “have a good night.” you slightly bowed as a sign of respect to him, not as a person but as an employee.

you didn't gave him room to reply and you were off. down to the direction of the nearest train station. his car already in front of him before the valet stepped out to give him his keys and before he took off. his blue eyes shimmer behind his dark glasses until he can see no longer of your retreating figure.

the chains make a clanging sound. resonating in the empty room and there's a sharp rattle of the chains mixed with the sound it was making as the sandbag was swung in different directions. it rounded into a circular motion until it was back again to the cause of the movement. steely purple eyes fixated on the poor equipment and anticipating the movement of it coming back to him, his fist collided with it again. followed by more and with a harsh punch, the sandbag broke the chain where it was attached. toppling on the corner with a thud and that was the cue for him to stop. the equipment no longer useful to him.

geto swiped a sweat in his forehead. finding the end of the strip of the cloth wrapped around his hands before pulling it and dumping it to the trash bin. he take a bottled water for him to drink and plopped down the couch. before his lips can taste the water, his phone rang. the caller id flashing in the screen of his phone and geto sighs before swiping to answer the call.

“any progress?” he say without greetings. anticipating the answer on the other end and he hears a shuffle before it was answered. “barely. she's avoiding me. i managed to stay with her after i found out she was staying late.” he can hear the frustrated tone of his friend. “she told me i shouldn't do it. she don't want to be in trouble.” gojo huffs. annoyed how the night ended but at least you talked to him even it was brief. “you are trouble.” suguru chuckles before turning into one of a serious. “it doesn't help you're her boss and you're engaged. they will talk and you know the jealous fits your fiancee have.” gojo rolls his eyes. wiping the fogged mirror he was staring his reflection at. “i know and that means, it's going well with you?” he bites his tongue to stop the sarcastic tone he was about to unleash.

geto thought about it. his past encounters with you and slowly, you were trusting him. it wasn't the result he wanted cause he can be impatient at times and he's dying to feel you once again but progress is still progress. “yeah. she's slowly accepting me.” gojo scoffs and geto hears it. “you want her to open up to you? stop being an entitled asshole to her. show her you're not your past self. being sincere won't cost you anything.” it have and gojo winces at it.

“satoru?” geto hears a feminine voice in the background and he ends the call before he can hear anything else. he thinks of you. he should take you on a date sometimes. one you can't refuse and show you a good time and treat you the way you deserve and see that smile he have been wanting. directed to him and only him. he's the only one that can make you smile and you won't need gojo. he looks at the time. he should be planning to make you his, again.

there's a sudden beep signalling that the call was ended. gojo turned around only to meet his fiancee. standing in the bathroom door. her perfume reeks and her loose waves daintily passed around her shoulders. wearing only a thin nightgown and gojo hides the distaste he have for her. this was an arrangement. both of the families agreed it should be done. sayuri was only her for the night and he can live that. “aren't you going to bed?" her voice too sweet for his tastes. he likes your better. sweet and gentle compared to sayuri's. “just a second.” he says before turning off the light switch and joining her.

“how's your day?”

“the usual.” her fingers came rubbing circles in his chest. she intentionally pulls the straps of her thin nightgown and he wasn't really in the mood and how he can be when all he can think is you. fuck. maybe he can use sayuri and pretend it was you but the delicate features of his fiancee isn't the same as you. a tiny waist and a handful of flesh he can grab. it wasn't enough. he needs you. full and ripe for him to tear apart while you cry his name. he rubs his eyes and looks at sayuri. it would be only temporary. “sayuri?” he call to her. the girl besides him was all ears. “yes?” he would be in trouble if he was to call your name instead of her. “come here.” and without hesitation her lips was on his.

now's the world is getting smaller to you three and you have no excuses of avoiding them. you can endure it. you endured it for the quarter of your whole life, what's the difference if you can do it one more again. now the stakes are higher and you're risking the existence of your children with them. you don't know how it will end but you know you have to protect your twins even it's the last thing you will do.

TAGLIST. @missakward123 @lupitalove @i00bear @socialanxietyvictim @tourmalxine @labelt-san @ghostlyworld @kashxyou @chiiiiiiiiiiifuuuuuuuu @cute-sucker @skii-high @boyimjustaloserforyourlove @jossayuuu @bubblesandsand1-0 @ply4vnce @witchymermaid12 @luna-v-roiya @mariyumemi @sinfullygay @higurumapet @kvk6433gkcigv @s-j320 @bts-skz @imcreepininyourheartbabe @hazzelle-kento @cashcadaver @n1vi @kiruupon @vebbiewuzhere @its-princessmara @ssetsuka @unicornqueen05 @idkwhattfimdoinghere2 @sunnytyun @tomriddles-wh0re @ya-mamaaaaa @wateriswhatiam @red-writes @saltyladyflower @greyclouq @bahurani @lovayle @okayiamkassandra @sealikesushi @sanzuandmikey @spicana @luvsymai @uniquenicefangirl @ushijimaschubbs @lansy-4 @aesonsgirl @eggieshiteru @jellibean2018 @uchihabucketlist @sunaemoby @cupidscourt @divinedolliebun @rottmntrulesall @mmeharuno @sleighter @haesify @desperadaparasapagmamhal @ichikanu @daytej @0honeylemonade @definetlythinkimanalien @thulhu @mastermasterlist1p1

[ackerlikesmen]

My Response

Since I can't reblog, I'll respond this way.

THIS IS NOT TO ATTACK BUT TO SHARE MY REASONING FOR DISAGREEMENT.

I won't lie. This tweet really bothered me. Same annoyance and sadness with 'You can't criticize percabeth because it's based on Rick's marriage.' I'm not saying you said that, but I see that comment often.

Anyway, I'm going to remain respectful.

You are NOT erasing Percy's character's strength by pointing out the toxicity and abuse of Percabeth. Yes, Percy is not afraid of calling out people's nonsense. HOWEVER, he does that with people he DOES NOT like. Of course, it's easier for him to call out people he doesn't like because it wouldn't affect him.

However, when it comes to people he cares for, that's another story. When it comes to Grover nearly fucking up Percy's quest because he didn't want him or Annabeth to leave him, instead of calling out his selfishness, Percy bites his tongue and BLAMES HIMSELF for making Grover feel that way.

What about when his mother admits she was selfish by not letting him go to camp? Despite being a safer option, she didn't want him going to camp. Percy had every right to be mad. This could've saved him from Gabe. But instead, he still adores her. He doesn't hold it against her.

Lastly, with Annabeth, she's done all sorts of things, like punching him in the gut, judo flipping him with the intention of hurting him, and blaming him for leaving her even though he was kidnapped.

Did Percy lash out? No. There wasn't a retort either. Instead, he laughed it off, and they haven't spoken about it. If anything, he felt the need to make it up to Annabeth. He felt GUILTY for something that was not his fault.

What about when she calls him seaweed brain, a name he doesn't like? A name similar to 'brain boy,' something smelly Gabe calls him to demean his intelligence. A name that ANNABETH finds insulting too, and doesn't want to be called. Does he tell her to stop or call her mean names back? Kinda, but he later GIVES UP and bites his tongue.

What about when Reyna says he 'couldn't find his way out of a paper bag,' and Annabeth laughs and agrees with her. Percy may have said 'hey!" but that's it. Was it talked about? I don't think so. It was brushed to the side.

Percy may be brave enough to stand up to bullies, but he doesn't stand up to his loved ones when they truly hurt him. His fatal flaw being loyalty to loved ones, even when they fuck him over, prevents him from doing that.

Annabeth is nowhere near like Gabe, but that doesn't mean she's not hurting Percy, and you're not degrading Percy for calling this out.

I was in Percy's shoes. I stood up to bullies and people I didn't like. Uncomfortable? Scary? Hell yeah, but I did it anyway. I know what that's like. However, just like Percy, I also brushed off the pain my friends and loved ones caused me. I brushed off my 'friends' fucking me over, even took the blame for them. Why? I didn't want them to leave me. I overlooked when my loved ones would unintentionally say hurtful things. Why? Because I love them and didn't want them to leave me either. Also, I tried to appear strong, too. It's okay now that I had therapy and stuff.

Guess what? Percy does the same thing, and that's worth calling out. Victims of abuse tend to overlook their loved ones hurting them.

I'm not 'minimizing' or 'erasing' Percy's strength and courage for calling a spade a spade, and I can not stand when percabeth stans try to sweep toxic things Annabeth does under the rug. Again, is she abusive and like Gabe? No. BUT she does things that remind me of Gabe, like calling Percy mean names to insult his intelligence. She hits, kicks, and hurts him when he does something she doesn't like. Gabe doesn't do this, but Annabeth would sometimes play mind games or make her boyfriend anxious just for the hell of it. (Bringing up Rachel to make Percy uncomfortable). I'll stop listing.

But I have to say. You said it was 'insulting' to Annabeth to call her actions 'abusive'? I say it's insulting to act like what she's doing isn't abusive or toxic. All that I've listed, she didn't do this playfully or in a lighthearted manner. Annabeth did this angry or annoyed and with INTENT. It wasn't an oopsie! No, she wants it to hurt, especially the judo flip scene. So, do I care if I insult Annabeth? Sorry, but no. I don't care because she's in the wrong. Not always, but MOST, and I don't feel guilty because of her actions and how she hasn't learned (and doesn't want to).

Overall, I hate that these types of arguments become popular. I understand you don't like your ship being called horrible things, and I'm not trying to be mean. Most of us are not. However, we can NOT sweep over some of the things Annabeth or Percy do, mainly Annabeth.

I'm sorry for dumping something heavy. I'm not trying to make this about me. My point is that you're not discarding Percy for calling out Percabeth's toxicity. That's it.

Night

Edited: March 18th, 2025. I wanted to add a little more and correct grammar and typos.

[stupidphototricks]

The main thing that struck me about Thief of TIme is how it (more than any other Discworld book, I think, which is saying something) just casually tosses out clumps of the most fantastically unhinged worldbuilding physics*, and you're just supposed to accept them.

And you do! Because they make sense! More or less! Somehow they fit neatly into the parts of your brain that agree that this is how things should work, that even though officially you know better, on some level you still believe they could be true.

A lot of science fiction could take a lesson or two from the fantasy of Discworld in general and Thief of Time in particular. Don't overexplain, don't overcomplicate, just present your world as a given and make it easy to swallow. Harder than it sounds, of course, but Sir Terry was an expert at it.

Anyway, people have been messing around with time ever since they were people. Wasting it, killing it, sparing it, making it up. And they do it. People's heads were made to play with time.

-- Terry Pratchett, Thief of Time

*As evidenced by the title, most of the unhinged physics in this book has to do with time. Some of my favorites below the cut (spoilers):

Portable "spinners" allow you to carry time on your back, like a diver carrying an air tank, in case you're in a situation where time could stop (you never know!).

Once, a major time catastrophe unmoored the fastenings that connect the past to the present, and the History Monks had to stitch it back together however they could, so that's why history doesn't always make sense if you look closely. But generally people don't notice (we're pretty unobservant).

The Monks can move time around, pulling it from somewhere that it isn't being used efficiently and putting it somewhere that extra time is needed, or if there's a time leak they can dump surplus time over the ocean or somewhere that it won't make a big difference (not a lot happens in the ocean that people notice).

Yetis can save their own lives like a video game before going into a dangerous situation, and restart from the saved point if anything happens to them (useful!).

[madschiavelique]

Restraint - Miguel O'Hara x fem!Reader

summary : you convinced Miguel to wear a muzzle to fuck you, and let's just say it drives him insane.

content warning : SMUT (18+) minors dni, pnv sex, unprotected safe (be safe kids), miguel becoming a tiny bit angry because he can't kiss you nor bite you, possessive miguel, no use of Y/N word count : 1,1k

note : needed to get this out of my brain, enjoy (english is not my first language and i tried to proofread it properly fdbfdgf)

Miguel grunted, his teeth clenching over the empty air. He snarled, thrusting further into you, trying to press his face into your neck to squeeze the metal and get closer to your skin.

You had managed, in a way that still impressed you right then, to convince Miguel to wear a muzzle during sex. You had smiled, telling him that "you won't be able to resist, it's impossible for you," because the words 'bite' and 'Miguel' were simply inseparable, whether in everyday life or just in bed. With an air of pride and restraint, he had replied, "I'll resist, and you'll be biting your fingers off."

And now, he was pounding into you, body all sweaty with the muzzle on. The restraint had enough space between the bars and his mouth that he only managed to partially graze the sides if he tried to spread his lips or his tongue.

At first, he had put it on almost like a medal, because he was convinced that he would overcome his cravings and control himself perfectly well. How wrong he was.

As soon as he realised that he wouldn't be able to kiss your lips again, that had been a problem. But to admit at that moment that he didn't like it would be to admit defeat a little too soon. However when he realised he couldn’t bite you ? Now that was a problem.

His hands came to grasp your body more tightly than ever. The lack of grip he had with his teeth resulted in his fingers digging into your skin, which turned red under the pressure.

His fingers were pinching, his hands grabbing everything they could get their hold of that he couldn't bite. He took one of your breasts in his hand, his thumb starting to play with it, but when he lowered himself to lick it, he was instantly stopped by the distance between his tongue and the metal. He frowned, but eventually resisted using just his fingers.

Then he realised he couldn't trace your belly with kisses and light nibbles. But the real weight of his little wager began to sink in when, on reaching your legs, he realised what a mistake he'd made. The soft skin of your inner thighs, where the traces he had left the previous time he had fucked you were beginning to fade, was beyond his reach. The very idea that he couldn't make sure it was newly marked, right here, right now, was driving him crazy.

And then, when he got to your pussy, disaster. It was already so wet, glistening with your own desire for him. He was already salivating at the thought of tasting it, of getting drunk on it until he fell off, of hearing you moaning as he made you go from orgasm to orgasm.

But he couldn't, the cool metal dampened by Miguel's breath on the muzzle sending a delicious shiver down your spine when he tried to kiss you there.

He grunted quietly, frustration really beginning to set in, and started to work his fingers instead of his tongue. You breathed a sigh of relief as he came back to you, wanting to nestle into the back of your neck, wanting to kiss it, to feel your cheek pressed against his. But once again, he was stopped by the meagre metal frame. This was where deprivation became sincerely complicated. He hadn't noticed until now how much power his mouth had over your pleasure. He still had control over his words and his voice, but everything else was forbidden to him.

He bit his own cheek as he thrust in you, the first thing he wanted to do with the moan you let out was to swallow it, to relieve himself from the taste of your voice, your whimper and all the others that were to come.

The idea occurred to him to suggest removing the muzzle, thinking that the argument of "but it ruins our common pleasures" would do the trick. But he stopped himself, setting off at a frantic pace, his frustration reflected in the depth and power of his thrusts. All those delicious noises you were making, he wanted them for himself, in his own body, he had caused them and they were rightfully his.

So he tried to press the muzzle aside, hoping that by contorting his lips he would be able to kiss your shoulder, but he couldn't.

"Cariño," he breathed at last, slowing slightly, "What do you say I remove this stupid thing, hm?"

The little flash of satisfaction lit up your eyes like lighters.

"What is it ?" you whimpered, looking up at him through your lashes. "Can't handle yourself ?"

His nose wrinkled under his frown, his lips forming an angry pout. But he had to retain some pride, so, reluctantly, he replied:

"I can handle this perfectly."

He turned you over, your head on the cushion, ass up for him, resuming its previous rhythm as your cries were muffled into the pillow. He'd thought maybe if he heard them less he'd be half as tempted to want them for himself, but the urge weighed.

And the noise that his pelvis made against your ass was pushing all the right buttons.

His fingers dug into your skin again, the desire to bite and kiss you becoming more and more unbearable. Perhaps in another position he would be less tempted?

So you moved into cowgirl, your pelvis undulating against his as his hands gripped your ass and your thighs. But seeing you like this, your teeth biting into your lips from time to time, prevented him from thinking straight. It was his own teeth that should have done that.

"You look frustrated," you noted as you leaned over him.

You had taken care not to kiss or bite him either, but you allowed yourself the small temptation to kiss his neck, and Miguel's desire was growing by the second. Then, with a mischievous smile, you came back to face him.

"I wonder why," you smiled, licking from bottom to top the surface of the muzzle in a slow, almost lazy gesture.

It was too much, he couldn't take it any more. So with a sharp jerk, he grabbed the strap of the object of all his torment and pulled on it, the strap ripping immediately.

He pounced on you, hungry, his lips attacking yours, swallowing your every moan with monstrous satisfaction. Inevitably, he lunged at the crook of your neck, biting down harder than he was used to into your flesh. He consumed everything in his path, insatiable.

"I'll burn that thing," he said between a kiss and a bite, thinking of the pleasure he would take in destroying the muzzle.

One thing was certain, he would never tire of devouring you whole.

[livelaughloveluffy]

his passenger princess - black leg sanji

a/n: god i'm literally obsessed with this picture of sanji, its actually unreal 😭😭😭 i love this man so fucking much rahhhhhhhhhhh,,, also my commitment to writing fics in between working on all my final projects, labs, and papers is a grind that i will never stop 😌😌

a/n: i finally have decided to cave a little and explore writing more modern au fics, so this is the start of that!! hopefully these are something you all will enjoy!! this idea was just racking inside of my brain, as someone who loves going on drives i couldn't help but imagine being a passenger princess with my favorite one piece men 😌

nothing but fluff here 💗

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-sanji is really the only one piece man that i don't have a specific make or model of a car in mind for him. i feel like he doesn't really care about something like that, and would honestly drive something pretty plain and common. if anything, i suppose i could make an argument for him driving a nicer car, but nothing super flashy.

-the windows are always cracked open a little bit when you're in the car with sanji. mainly because he will be driving with a cig in his mouth, but also because he's a sucker for a fresh breeze. looking to his side and seeing your hair flowing around you as he drives is such a simple beauty he can't help but be able to enjoy it.

-this man is a pretty cautious driver, no excessive speeding, but does like to go fast from time to time. however, since you're next to him, he is the picture of a model driver. he absolutely refuses to take his hands off the wheel while driving, but that doesn't mean that he won't hold your hand whenever the two of you are stuck at a red light. he isn't at all opposed to you resting your hand on his thigh (and it's one of his huge guilty pleasures in life).

-you get all of the control when it comes to the music playing. sanji would die before he would judge or complain about something you chose to play while on a drive. at times, you even catch him humming or singing along to some of your girlier pop hits (as he honestly got so used to hearing them and they got stuck in his head and are now some of his favorite songs). occasionally he'll ask to queue a song or two, usually some sappy love song he'll dedicate to you.

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tags ♡: @twiishaa @3v37773 @irethepotato @peachycat17 @dreamcastgirl99 @sanji-soup; want to join the taglist? click here!

a/n: enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!

[damnfeelings09]

Animals AU- Shadow's version

A.N: Sorry, got lost in crimson eyes! RED for stalker thoughts, GREEN for yours Please check your surroundings, someone is coming.

Shadow stopped his motorcycle just in front of your house. You got off, still on shaky legs, feeling dizzy. “Thanks... for the ride, for saving me.”

“Now you owe me a bunny”  he said with a wink. “Why did you show up out of nowhere? Be thankful I have good reflexes or you'd be a stain on the floor by now.”

“Ah...” you quickly thought of an excuse, because telling him that you had been chased by a madman was not an option “I missed the bus and the only way out is to walk 5km to the next stop, so I was running to catch it.”

Lies.

“Really? I thought you looked scared, are you afraid of the dark bunny?” he asked getting close to your ear. His hot breath hitting your neck. The memory of what you had done in the afternoon and even more the why came back to your mind blushing you instantly. Shadow had the power to make you furious and now, it seemed, he also had the power to make you blush and he was enjoying it. “Would you like me to walk you to your bed? You won't be afraid of the dark if you’re with me.”

“Asshole” you said coming back to reality. You threw the helmet back at him, but Shadow had good reflexes, catching it in mid-air. You frowned and turned around raising your middle finger at him.

What you trying to do to me

It's like we can't stop, we're enemies

“Love it when you play hard to get”. - He said putting on his helmet “You turn me on” And with that Shadow disappeared again among golden sparks.

The next morning you were at the bus station, Mailo had been apologizing for leaving you alone for 10 minutes straight and excusing himself that he had to go for his sister and you were nowhere to be seen. Mailo and you were best friends since you were in high school, you were both in the same class and his house was 2 blocks away from yours, you used to spend a lot of time at his house because your parents were too busy working for GUN. However, when you turned 15 something changed, both of them became paranoid, locking you at home with them, you were not allowed any electronic devices, you could only talk to your friends when your parents were asleep. Little by little, the stress was consuming you, nobody knew what was going on, a mobian virus the doctors said, it was slowly eating your parents brain and there was nothing to do. You went through many studies but fortunately you had not been infected.

That was the reason for you to study medicine, you would find a cure for that virus, for the Mobian diseases. When you enrolled in medicine Mailo was surprised, he had no idea that you liked sick people, he cared so much about you, saying it was his job to protect you at all costs, that he ended up enrolling with you in the faculty, however his other interests did not allow him to have a clear conscience and he changed some of his classes to biology.

“Forgive me, honey,” he said, pleading with his blue eyes. He’d always been like this, you knew he had feelings for you, heck you even tried to feel the same but in your eyes Mailo was like your brother “I promise I will never leave you alone again.”

“It's okay. Besides, the bus ride wasn't so bad.” You lied. If Mailo knew what was going on he would surely get upset and go straight to his father Commander Clarke, they would start an investigation and have you watched 24/7 or worse, locked up in a safe house. You wouldn't let either of those things happen. You would never be locked up again.

“It is my duty to protect you,” he said with a peculiar smile, ”I will never leave you alone… again.”

When you arrived at the university Mailo said goodbye to you, gave you a kiss on the cheek and assured you that this time he would wait for you. You smiled at him and waved goodbye. You turned around and bumped into a hairball. You blew it away from your face before it made you sneeze, when you opened your eyes white fur was in front of you, shiny and tempting, inviting you to run your fingers through it and check its softness.

“Wow, are we getting along like this bunny? It's my turn to touch” it was his stupid teasing voice again. You were beginning to miss the Shadow who only teased you or hid your stuff. You walked around him and continued on your way to Psych class. “Hey, no good morning kiss for the one who saved your pretty little ass last night?”

“I said thank you.” you reminded him, hurrying your pace.

“You still owe me one bunny,” Shadow walked at your pace, wearing a black sports outfit, which camouflaged perfectly with his fur except for his chest. White fur peeked through the V-neck of his shirt; the same one you had bumped into minutes ago. On his wrists and ankles, he wore golden rings, imprisoning him as if he was something dangerous, he also wore his typical aero shoes.

You're like a drug that's killing me

You rolled your eyes at his words. You might be a good person, but you would never, ever do that hedgehog a favor. “Consider it a truce between us.” You smiled mockingly at him.

Shadow tugged on your wrist, pulling you into the hallway between the buildings. He placed you back against the wall and positioned himself in front of you, one hand resting on the wall close to your neck and the other resting on your waist with a firm grip, a mixture of the warmth of his hand and the coldness of his ring against your bare skin.

“Wha- Shadow let go of me.” You brought your fists to his chest striking him but only managed to get laughter from your opponent. You could feel the vibration under your hands.

“Somone's got fire inside,” he said looking you up and down with his eyes. “Careful  you might get burn bunny.” He withdrew his grip on your waist, your body yearning to feel the touch again.

“Maybe I want to” you whispered, holding his gaze. Shadow smiled, the glow in his crimson eyes turning dark, as if warning you of danger. Seeing that you were not frightened, he looked away.

“I need you to repay me for last night's favor,” he turned his attention back to you, that darkness gone from his eyes.

“What?, Mr. I do everything better than you, Mr. Perfection, Mr. The Ultimate Lifeform is asking for the help of a mere mortal?”

“You're so funny bunny, are you sure you didn't take the wrong career path? You should be a comedian,” he said sarcastically with an annoyed grimace. Seeing Shadow annoyed was not something that happened easily, but when you did it your whole being enjoyed it. You enjoyed making him feel a hint of what he provoked in you.

“I don't think so, sombrita.” you teased, a smirk perfectly drawn on your face, however, your moment of satisfaction didn't last long. Shadow closed the distance between you, his face only inches from you, his breath crashing against yours and his grip again on your waist, this time, gently caressing you with his thumb. The heat rising to your cheeks, almost as red as his eyes. Shadow inhaled deeply, allowing the strawberry scent of your perfume to flood his lungs causing him to shiver, his spikes standing on end.

You can start over you can run free

You can find other fish in the sea

“You're going to help me” it was more of a command than a plea. Your mind focused on his touch, his pads were rough against your skin but the contact didn't bother you, it felt... good.

“Wh-what for?” you hesitated to speak.

“Something simple bunny. There's a girl who doesn't understand that I'm not interested, I just want you to get her off my back.” he said as he played with the strap of your bra, very close to the curve of your breasts.

“Ho-how?”

“Go out with me.” he smiled. “It'll only be a few weeks.”

“No fucking way” You refused, but the blush on your face and your body's reaction to his touch gave away what you felt.

“Pleeeeeease,” he pleaded softly, ”I'll be good to you and help you pass your self-defense class.”

Danger alarms were ringing loudly in your head, but the way Shadow was looking at you had you trapped, you couldn't pay attention to anything else but him. His commanding presence over you and his deep voice, unsettled your senses. And his eyes, fuck those crimson eyes hid behind them an indomitable fire and you a simple match waiting to burn. You were at his mercy, whatever he asked for at this moment you would give it to him.

“Okay” You replied, almost inaudibly, but Shadow had excellent hearing.

“That's my girl.” he smiled, releasing you from his grip “Later bunny.”

But you can't stay away from me

Stupid, sensual hedgehog you thought. How could he look so carefree and disappear just like that after all the wave of emotions he had caused in you.

[prettyprincessduh]

Alphabet Soup ~ Rami characters edition ✨️

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AN~ This trend is lowkey so old but I wanted to do it for my fav Rami characters

~~~

Characters in this post ~

Elliot Alderson

Ahkmenrah

Josh Washington

Finn - Need 4 speed

~~~

Elliot~

A = Aftercare

Awkward but sweet. He gets super quiet, not out of rudeness, but because his brain is overloading. He’ll probably get distant and nervous, especially if its a hookup. However if you're close and dating he'd most likely be stroking your hair. It takes him a while to say something, but when he does, it’s always something soft like, “You okay?” or “You were perfect.”

B = Body part

On you your thighs. He’s obsessed. Loves when you straddle him, loves gripping them, biting into them even. I get the vibe he would probably be a boobs guy, too. idk he feels like the type to wanna grab them

On himself—he hates his own body a bit, but he’ll admit his hands are “useful.”

C = Cum

He’s a mess. He tries to hold back but loses it when you whisper anything even slightly dirty. He likes cumming on you rather than in you. The thought of having kids terrifies him.

Places he'd cum ~ your stomach, chest, inner thighs, he finds it weirdly intimate.

D = Dirty secret

He’s set up cams in his room to rewatch you two together. Not out of creepiness ~ but because he’s obsessed. You’re his comfort and chaos, and he’s addicted.

E = Experience

Not a ton, honestly. But he's a fast learner. And once he trusts you? He’s eager to make you melt. Secretly watches porn you like to “study.”

F = Favorite position

He loves when you ride him. Being under you makes him feel safe but also absolutely wild. Watching you lose control on top of him? His favorite kind of powerlessness. He's a total bottom once he's comfortable

G = Goofy

He's not goofy... but sometimes when he's too in love with you, he’ll nervously laugh and ruin the moment. Then immediately bury his face in your neck in embarrassment. It’s cute.

H = Hair

Messy. Doesn’t shave anything unless he has to. Chest hair? None. Downstairs? He trims… sometimes.

I = Intimacy

Deep, intense eye contact when he’s fully emotionally connected. He may not say “I love you” every time, but his hands, his body, his whole soul shows it.

J = Jack off

Frequently. He fantasizes about you more than anything. Even the smallest moment ~ like you brushing his arm ~ can trigger a full-on fantasy spiral.

K = Kink

Voyeurism. Watching. Recording. That hacker brain loves capturing moments no one else gets to see. He may have hacked into your laptop webcam to watch you pleasure yourself

Also, slight power play ~ he likes you in control until he snaps.

L = Location

His apartment. Even though it’s a mess, it feels private and safe. He also secretly loves the idea of the fsociety arcade. Grungy, dangerous, perfect.

Once he's comfortable, he may go to your place since you'd have an actual bed and not a mattress on the floor

M = Motivation

Stress relief. Your voice, the way you look at him, the soft scent of your skin. And when you say his name in that one tone? Game over.

N = No

He won't do anything degrading or anything that makes you uncomfortable. No humiliation play. No hurting you. Emotionally or physically. Ever.

I mean, unless he's tripping out and losing control of himself but lowkey, I don't think I'd write that 💀 Especially after finding out what happened to him

O = Oral

Loves giving, but doesn't brag about it. He gets lost in it. Holds your thighs down and just devours you. Receiving? He gets shy but he won’t stop you.

P = Pace

Usually slow, sensual, drawing it out because he wants to feel everything. But when he snaps? It’s rough. Desperate. Unhinged.

Q = Quickie

He doesn't seek them out but when he's worked up? He’ll grab you against a wall, press a hand over your mouth, and take. He always apologizes after. Even though you loved it.

R = Risk

He’s more open than he lets on. If you suggest something risky, it turns him on like hell. Especially if it’s sneaky. He loves a good secret.

S = Stamina

One good long round… then needs to cuddle and reboot. Give him a few minutes, some soft kisses, and he’s ready again.

T = Toys

He doesn’t own any but if you bring one into the mix? He’s fascinated. Watches closely. May eventually ask to control it.

U = Unfair

He’s a tease king when he wants to be. Ghost touches. Whispering filthy things and then pulling away. He’ll edge you for hours if he’s in the right mood.

V = Volume

Quiet… until he can’t be. When he moans? It’s low, broken, breathy. He gasps your name like it’s the only thing grounding him.

W = Wild card

He's only had two previous girlfriends being Angela and Shayla

he is scared to get into a relationship again because he always feels like he puts others in danger

X = X-ray

Slim, lean muscle. Hidden strength. And he’s bigger than he thinks he is. Let’s just say... you were pleasantly surprised.

I wanna say more girth that length, but it's not, not lengthy like it's definitely a good size

Omg and veiny. Have you seen his arms and hands???

Y = Yearning

HIGH. But he won’t act on it unless you give him the green light. When he does though? He’ll crave you every hour of the day.

Z = Zzz

Immediately wraps around you like a blanket burrito after. Your heartbeat calms him. He falls asleep, holding your hand under the sheets.

He gets the best sleep after being with you.

Ahkmenrah~

A = Aftercare

The softest prince ever. He wraps you in silk sheets, gently massages your thighs, and whispers praise in ancient Egyptian. Think forehead kisses, feeding you grapes, and tucking you into him like his sacred treasure.

B = Body Part

On himself: His hands. He loves how strong yet delicate they are—how they can hold a scroll one minute and worship your body the next. I'd also say his Abs, he values keeping fit

On you: Your hips. He’s obsessed. He’ll trace them with reverence and grip them like a lifeline.

C = Cum

He treats it like a ritual. When he finishes, it’s almost reverent, like you’ve shared something sacred. Definitely into cumming inside if you’re down he thinks of it as marking his queen. Reader would probably have to go on birth control or she'd be pregnant 24 7

D = Dirty Secret

He’s been dreaming about doing it in front of one of the museum's sacred relics for years. He’d never risk it… or would he?

E = Experience

He was a virgin when revived but he learns fast. He's a quick study, eager to please, and surprisingly intuitive. By now? He knows exactly what he’s doing.

F = Favorite Position

Missionary but with his hands holding your wrists down, whispering Egyptian endearments while you fall apart beneath him. Or reverse cowgirl, so he can worship your body from below.

G = Goofy

Mostly serious, but if he gets really flustered, he’ll laugh. Especially if something modern confuses him mid-act like edible underwear. “This is food… but also clothing?”

H = Hair

Trimmed neatly, but not bare. He’s well-groomed out of royal habit. Yes, the drapes match the carpet. Regal, soft, slightly curled very touchable.

I = Intimacy

Deeply emotional. He sees sex as a bonding ritual. Every kiss, every touch is filled with devotion. He’ll look you in the eyes the whole time and whisper, “I am yours”

J = Jack Off

He does… but only when he can't have you. Always with reverence. Once he discovered lube, it was over.

K = Kink

Praise. Calling you his queen, his goddess, his chosen one.

He also believes in him being dominat in bed, but once you took control one time, a switch flipped

L = Location

The throne in his exhibit. Your bedroom. Your kitchen. A bathhouse. A carriage ride. The man’s got range.

M = Motivation

Seeing you in anything revealing, catching you stretching. Hearing you call him “Pharaoh” in that tone.

N = No

Anything degrading or too rough. He can get possessive, but never cruel. He values connection too much to treat you like anything less than royalty.

O = Oral

He adores giving. Watches your face the entire time. Skilled tongue, steady hands. You’ll be chanting his name like a prayer. Receiving? Oh, he’ll melt. He adores praise.

P = Pace

Slow and sensual, but when he gets really worked up? Oh, he’ll snap. Gripping your thighs, slamming into you, desperate to make you scream.

Q = Quickie

Once he understood what it was? Addicted. Back of your car, in the museum’s archives, your closet during a party, you name it.

R = Risk

Secretly loves danger. He’ll pretend to be innocent but gets thrilled by the idea of getting caught. The adrenaline makes him bolder.

S = Stamina

Royal blood means royal stamina. Two rounds minimum , sometimes three or four. He’s insatiable when you rile him up, and he won’t stop until you’re limp with pleasure.

T = Toys

He didn’t understand them at first… but now he has favorites. Silk ties, glass wands, and a soft feather he loves using to drive you wild.

U = Unfair

SO unfair. He’ll edge you with just his fingers and smirk while whispering, “Beg for your Pharaoh, my queen.”

V = Volume

He groans low and deep like thunder. Occasionally slips into Egyptian when overwhelmed. Hearing him moan your name? Life-changing.

W = Wild card

He has a royal breeding kink. Think: “I want you round with my heir.” Doesn’t matter if it’s roleplay or fantasy he wants to claim you in every way.

X = X-ray

Built like a god. Sculpted abs, strong thighs, and hung like royalty. Thick, long, and curved slightly to the right, just enough to hit every spot.

Y = Yearning

HIGH sex drive. He’s touch-starved from centuries of stillness, so now that he’s free? He can’t keep his hands off of you.

Z = Zzz

Once he knows you’re okay, he passes out holding you close, legs tangled, breathing warm on your neck. Dead to the world, no pun intended.

Josh~

A = Aftercare

He’s actually super attentive. For someone who seems chaotic, he turns into this gentle, cuddly softie. Warm towels, kisses on your forehead, and lots of “you okay, baby?” whispered against your skin. He needs to know you’re good.

B = Body part

On himself? He’s cocky about his mouth he knows how to use it, too. On you? Your thighs. Doesn’t matter if you're sitting, walking, lying down he’s obsessed. Loves resting his head on them and sneaking kisses.

C = Cum

He likes it messy. Every and anywhere.

Loves seeing you dripping, especially if he’s been teasing you for ages. But he’s also big on watching it soak your skin. He thinks it's artistic (in a hot, twisted way).

D = Dirty secret

He's jerked off to your voicemail like way too many times, which usually leaves you confused when you see the missed calls

E = Experience

Not tons, but enough. He’s watched a lot of videos and read some things he probably shouldn’t have. But with you? He’s eager, open, and gets better each time. He learns fast.

F = Favorite position

He likes it when you're on top. He loves watching you take control while he melts underneath you, but he also secretly loves flipping the script halfway through and wrecking you.

G = Goofy

He’s got a wicked sense of humor. Will 100% say something ridiculous right before sliding in. But once he’s in the zone? His smile fades, and he gets serious.

H = Hair

Groomed-ish, but nothing fancy. He’s not high-maintenance.

I = Intimacy

He doesn’t just want your body he wants your soul. Eye contact that borders on possessive. Whispers like “you’re mine” when he’s deep inside you. It's intense, emotional, and sometimes scary good.

J = Jack off

Yeah, he does. Often. Especially when he’s thinking about that time you sat in his lap and whispered in his ear. Uses his imagination vividly and definitely saves some of your pics.

K = Kink

Exhibitionism. The thrill of getting caught gets him going. Also, praise kink he lives for you calling him good. And he secretly wants you to ruin him just a little.

L = Location

Anywhere chaotic. Against a wall, in a closet at a party, on a piano he’s a vibe. But your bed after a long, intense day? His soft spot.

M = Motivation

You in a short skirt. You in his clothes. You being bratty. You not texting him back fast enough. He spirals fast, but it always ends up hot.

N = No

He’s not into anything that genuinely scares or hurts you. (Side eye)

He doesn't like sharing you, though he jokes about it, he wants to be the only guy inside you

O = Oral

Giving? Obsessed. He lives between your thighs. He takes his time, edge after edge, until you're grabbing his hair and begging. Receiving? He likes it messy, but watching your face is what really gets him off.

P = Pace

Unpredictable. Sometimes he’ll go painfully slow just to tease, other times it’s rough and desperate like he can’t get close enough. It depends on his mood… or yours.

Q = Quickie

Yes, and often. He thrives on them. The risk, the rush, the urgency chef’s kiss. Hallways, bathrooms, cars. He’s so down.

R = Risk

He’s a chaotic little daredevil. He’d try almost anything once. “What if we tried this?” is a phrase you hear a lot.

S = Stamina

Better than you expect. He can go a couple of rounds, especially if you’re encouraging him. But after an emotional night? It’s endless.

T = Toys

He’s curious and always down to experiment. Has a secret little drawer full of surprises. He wants to see how you react to all of it.

U = Unfair

He lives to tease. Texts you while you’re out, flirts when he knows you can’t act on it, and sends voice notes that are NOT safe for work.

V = Volume

Whiny. Breathless. Groans into your ear like he’s unraveling. When he’s really close? He starts moaning your name like a prayer.

W = Wild card

He loves recording you. Tastefully. With consent. Something about having it to watch later drives him crazy. It’s his private little obsession.

X = X-ray

It's pretty, On the longer side, slightly curved upward and very girthy He knows how to use it and loves your reaction every time.

Y = Yearning

High. Like, dangerously high. Even just seeing you in his shirt has him biting his lip. You’re the center of his universe and he wants you always.

Z = Zzz

Falls asleep with his arm slung over your waist, sometimes still inside you. Sleepy kisses and low murmurs until he’s out cold.

Finn~

A = Aftercare

Super soft king. He’ll help you clean up, pull you close under the covers, whisper compliments into your hair. Always checks if you’re okay, brings you snacks or water without you asking. He likes cleaning you off with a soft rag.

B = Body part

On you? Your ass. He loves grabbing it, standing behind you and pressing it against him.

On himself? His arms, he's actually fairly strong and he loves when he's carrying you and they're flexing

C = Cum

Finn’s the type to lose his breath, watching it drip down your stomach. He loves finishing where it leaves a mark.

Once got it in your hair, he wouldn't do that again unless you were in the shower though

D = Dirty secret

He’s had wet dreams about you before you even got together. One time, he may have accidentally moaned your name during a nap in front of the crew. They won't let him live it down

E = Experience

He acts like he is, but the first couple of times you had sex it went in the wrong hole atleast 5 times

F = Favorite position

Loves doing it from the side, laying behind you

Especially when it's late or early in the moring

G = Goofy

Totally teases. Slaps your butt, makes cheeky comments, but when it gets hot, he shifts into full smooth mode. He’ll crack jokes before and after, not during.

H = Hair

Groomed just enough, leaves a little for the rugged vibe. Smells good too like cologne and engine grease in the hottest way.

I = Intimacy

So much eye contact. Slow kisses between words. He’s the type to grab your hand during it, press it over his heart like, “feel that? That’s for you.”

J = Jack off

He does it, but not as often now that you’re around. When he does, he’s thinking of something specific like that one time in the car.

K = Kink

Car sex. Praise. Control. Danger. He gets off on the risk and the worship. Also has a thing for lingerie especially when it’s pink and just for him.

L = Location

The garage. The car. Against the hood. Backseat. Literally anywhere automotive-themed. Bonus points if you’re wearing his jacket.

M = Motivation

You looking at him from across the room? Instant switch flipped. Bonus: you in his hoodie, no pants. And when you call him driver boy? Done for.

N = No

He’ll never make you feel unsafe or unwanted. No to anything that makes you cry (unless it’s from pleasure). He checks in, every time.

O = Oral

He lives to go down on you. Obsessed. It’s like a sport to him. focused, determined, and he won’t stop ‘til you’re shaking. He also loves having your mouth on him but turns into a mess fast.

P = Pace

Likes to start slow and teasing, then gets fast and rough once he loses control. You’ll hear his breathing change first then it’s over.

Q = Quickie

Oh he’s a big fan. Behind a car. In the hallway. Against a wall before the crew shows up. Just give him a look, and he’s game.

R = Risk

He lives for risk. Getting caught? Hot. Car windows fogged up? Perfect. Public but private enough? Yes please.

S = Stamina

Surprisingly strong. Can go two, three rounds if you’re up for it. Gets turned on again fast if you keep touching him after.

T = Toys

He’s open-minded. Loves when you use them on yourself for him to watch. Might hold a viberator against you while kissing your neck just to hear you gasp.

U = Unfair

The biggest tease. Will act totally casual while his hand is in your panties, whisper something filthy in your ear then walk away like nothing happened.

V = Volume

He grunts. He growls. He swears under his breath. But when he’s close? Deep, needy moans with your name all over them.

W = Wild card

Once fingered you in the driver’s seat while making you keep eye contact through the rearview mirror. Still talks about it.

X = X-ray

Thick. Veiny. Heavy. And he knows how to use every inch. You definitely felt it before you saw it.

Y = Yearning

He’s needy in the best way. Always touching, always craving. Can’t go a day without tasting you. Gets irritable if he can’t.

Z = Zzz

Once he’s wrapped around you, he’s out like a light. But only after whispering something sweet against your ear.

[muntitled]

more dom!hazel would be so appreciated if u can hehe 🫶🫶

+ another anon who asked for a cleaning bruises fic

𝐁𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐬 & 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬 | 𝐇𝐚𝐳𝐞𝐥 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐧

Hazel Callahan x fem!reader

Summary: "If I put my hands up your skirt right now, am I gonna find you wet?"

Warnings: Established Relationship, Hyper feminine!Reader, PJ as her own warning, Mentions of Bruises, Mentions of Violence, Cleaning Hazel's bruises, Domestic Fluff, Humor, Jealousy, Possessiveness, Smut (+18 Minors DNI), Dirty Talk, Mutual Pining, Fighting Kink?, Fingering, Dom!Hazel, Sub!Reader, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Overstimulation

Can be seen as a continuation of this fic but not strictly

Your afternoon had been almost perfect, with Hazel nestled between your open legs just a step lower on the school bleachers. Her head had been thrown back, with her curls running rampant against your skin and tickling your chest. You smoothed her hair down in vain intervals while she played with a loose string on the stitiching of your plaid skirt as she droned on and on about the unlikelihood of being enlisted as a bomb tech by the US Army.

"I don't really know where else I could use my particular set of expertise. What else could I do that won't ultimately lead me down the path of... you know, treason and terrorism?" You nod vaguely as Hazel continues her equal parts aloof and equal parts worrying rants. All while combining your fingers through her hair, "I mean, I just feel like World War III is probably upon us, you know-"

"Ugh, could you guys get a room?" You had been so enamored by Hazel's ranting that you failed to notice PJ at first. Her and Josie made their slow ascent on the bleachers until their shadows blocked your afternoon sun.

"Could you get a girlfriend?" The words had snipped off your tongue with harsh vexation as you instinctively cradled Hazel closer to your chest.

"Jesus-" Hazel had muttered, as she craned her neck up to stare at PJ and a disgruntled Josie, "Why are you trying to hijack my boob time?"

You had to reign in all murderous intentions as PJ grabbed hold of Hazel's forearms and forcibly dragged her up off the bleachers… out of your arms.

"You don't get boob time until we all get boob time. And need I remind you that you're going to be late for Fight Club," You heaved a very loud, very obnoxious sigh as you tilted your head backwards, letting the rays bounce off your pink sunglasses, "You guys should seriously get a room." Said PJ, "Stop giving the entire football team a show. Come on, you're setting us back like 69 years-"

Before PJ sunk her claws into Hazel completely, she bent down until her lips pressed against your cheek, and she whispered, "I'll see you back at my place, yeah?"

Your heart deflated at her confirmation that she was indeed leaving you for Fight Club, "Hazel..."

"Shh, shut up. Just say yes,"

But before you could wrack your brain for something coherent to say, PJ had already begun to make her descent off the bleachers, taking your girlfriend along with her.

You did not hate PJ, nor were you her biggest fan at the best of times. However, nights like tonight made your vexation grow to unimaginable heights simply because PJ is completely and utterly inescapable.

This evening, however, waiting for Hazel to get back from Figh Club, had been perfect. Etta James had been oozing through The Callahan's home speakers as you prepared the butternut soup- Hazel's favourite Post Fight Club recovery meal (although she hated admitting it, because she did not want to put you out of your way).

You are perfectly content, trapped in your web of make-believe as you prance around Hazel's kitchen, assembling your respective bowls needed for the soup. Mrs Callahan had let you in, as she always did after school, with a dismissive wave while she babbled into the receiver of her iPhone. Before she completely disappeared into the innards of her sprawling house, Mrs Callahan vaguely threw over her shoulder "Hazel is at her thing until 5 but I'm sure you've been made aware," and you were left in this great big labyrinth to entertain yourself.

Sex had been even more seldom, given that Hazel was rarely ever in any shape to commence any form of coitus due to the various bruises popping up in unlikely places. You wish you can safely tell yourself you despised seeing her bloody and battered state - that you gain absolutely nothing from Fight Club and that you most likely never will.

But you're staring dreamily into the pot of soup, and you're stirring and stirring, with your heart racing in anticipation of Hazel's inevitable return with her inevitable bruises smeared across her perfect little face.

You had not planned on cooking for anyone because seducing Hazel in her inevitably bloodied state was on the forefront of your mind, and Mrs Callahan had a very tempting bright pink apron hanging on the hook.

So perhaps you did do this all for her.

Perhaps you were waiting for her, to stride on through the foyer, nursing a streak of dried blood down her nose, eager to catch her reaction at seeing you so comfortable in her space while you rushed to swoop in and fawn over her.

This near perfect daydream might have actually manifested…

Were it not for PJ's loud and obnoxious voice bleeding into the kitchen from the foyer, accompanied by the heavy groan of the front door slamming shut. Your shoulders visibly sag as you empty the rest of the soup into your bowl just as the trio rounds the corner into the kitchen.

"Oh my God - soup!" PJ exclaimed rushing towards you with her gaze zeroed in on the bowl locked firmly in your hand. You had been so focused on keeping the bowl from PJ's incessant grabby hands that you failed to see the dazed, almost breathless look that sprinkled over Hazel's face who drifted slowly behind Josie despite this being her house.

Suddenly, every thought about the impending bruise she was facing due to not dodging a right hook earlier vanished from her mind like doves in the wind. Hazel's head was completely flooded with the image of you, in her kitchen, with your cute as fuck little skirt grazing just above your knee.

This almost did not feel real. Less than a month ago, no one barely blinked in her direction, but now...

So enamored was Hazel by your act of service, she nearly failed to catch PJ's innate need to flirt whenever you were in the vicinity.

"You look hot by the way," PJ had slyly said, still reaching for the bowl of steaming soup, which you only drew higher above your head.

"Sorry PJ, only people who make me cum get to eat my cooking."

"Is that an invitation?" She asked, leaning against the counter, "That sounded like an invitation."

Hazel cleared her throat, finally succeeding in having your eyes wash over her. "Can we probably not talk about you fucking my girlfriend, maybe, I think?" She said cooly, discarding her bag somewhere on the floor before making her up closer towards you. Her slouch was even more prominent and you swear the air in your lungs thinned as she brushed up beside you and muttered, "Hey,"

"Hey yourself." And Hazel's tummy instantly warmed as you discarded the bowl on the counter, turning to cup her cheeks in your hands as you observed her latest shiners acquired from Fight Club. Something sinister flashed through Hazel's mind as your big dark eyes scanned over her visage, eyeing the new bruise splotched across her eye and the horizontal laceration on her cheek.

"It doesn't hurt," She can barely find her words under the overwhelming feeling of your care and attention. Your scent is all encompassing, and before she ever allows for anymore of her arousal to stain her boxers Hazel attempts to draw her face out of your palm.

"Jesus, Hazel!" You squeal, pulling her head down closer to your height, until Hazel has to support herself with a hand on the counter behind you, "Please don't tell me you were sparring with anyone on the football team again!"

You hoped you succeeded in masking how turned on that thought actually got you...

Hazel's voice is deep and low as she replies,

"Jeff said that if I can at least dodge his left, left, right hook next time, I could probably be ready for the whole team." You breathe out and airy laugh almost the same time as her, the both of you silently aware of what the other was doing.

"Ugh, you're such a virgin." PJ mutters under a mouthful of soup.

"I literally have a girlfriend," Hazel mutters without looking away. Her gaze was nearly trapped in yours as she allowed you to pull her limp body away from PJ and Josie. "Come on, I need to clean you up."

And that's how you had found yourself, cross-legged on Hazel's bed with her leaning against the headboard like your Oh so compliant little patient. Her gaze is yet to waver from yours, in fact, cleaning the laceration had been utter hell, right up until this point because Hazel had taken to drawing various circles against the skin of your exposed thigh.

The skirt had ridden up marginally from your seating position, and Hazel seems perfectly fine toying with your various emotions.

"You look really pretty," Hazel breathed out as if those words were sitting heavily on her heart ever since you applied the wet gauze against her left cheek. You try to hold your composure, keeping a firm eye on the dressing of Hazel's wound as you say, "I don't really think I want you going to fight club anymore,"

"Tch'yeah okay," she snickers dismissively, "Hey, is this skirt new? It's hot- like 'gay 50s housewife' kinda hot," There's an edge to her voice that has Hazel sitting taller against the headboard before incriminatingly letting her hands drift just a little higher on your thigh. Your breathing becomes heavier as you fight hard to maintain your crumbling composure.

"I'm serious, Hazel," you had begun to whisper. Why had you begun to whisper?

"I don't wanna have to stitch you up every time-"

As soon as the gauze was plastered onto her cheek, Hazel's head was already melting into your chest, nuzzling at your open cleavage exposed by your Pastel v-neck as she says, "God, I love it when you mommy me,"

"H-Hazel," any warning you tried to inject into your tone gets fizzled out by the embarrassing moan that escaped your lips as Hazel's teeth dragged lightly against the skin of your chest. Her hands were restless, as if she was testing herself as to how far she'd allow herself to go so quickly.

You suck in so much air as Hazel's palm cradles the inside of your thigh and because you're cross legged, closing your legs is nearly impossible. "Fuck, I'm so turned on, right now," her voice cracks as she brings her face up from your boobs. Pressing a hand to your cheek, she tries and fails to bring your lips towards hers.

Hazel frowns as you say,

"You think it makes me feel good seeing you like this?"

You ignore the budding voice in your head echoing the loud and very obnoxious 'yes, yes you do like seeing her like this. You like seeing that reckless smile blossom onto her cracked and battered face. It gets you wet and you know it does-'

But your voice is full of fragile conviction as you say, "You think I like seeing my girlfriend beaten up everyday of the week?"

Hazel blinks once before she succinctly replies, "If I put my hands up your skirt right now, am I gonna find you wet?" An entire desert ecosystem is suddenly born inside your mouth, and you swallow thickly as your eyes evade Hazel's uncomplicated, piercing gaze. She tilts her head, smiles gone, simply waiting for your response.

"Do you want me to tell you what I think?" She asks before steadily closing the distance between you once more. Only, you're so terrified of being caught out, so utterly embarrassed at the thought of her finding out about the pool of wetness that had begun soaking completely through your panties, that you back away the closer she gets. Your slinking backwards only allows Hazel to crawl closer until she's hovering above you in the centre of her bed.

You have her undivided attention, and she has yours. Your eyes recklessly scans her face, every cut, laceration, and every old bruise buried under a new one has your lips turning downward as a small, almost imperceptible whimper forces itself out of your throat.

"There she is…" Hazel whispers with a palm cradling your cheek, "There's my needy little girl," You're quickly slipping into subspace right in front of her and Hazel is more than grateful. A single silver pendant dangles from her throat as she dips down, finally connecting your lips in a quietly passionate kiss. Your eyes immediately flutter shut, and so does hers. The both of you are utterly enamored by the sheer lust communicated by the intensity of the kiss alone.

"Fuck," Hazel curses, momentarily breaking apart to peel off her oversized graphic tee. You're watching your girlfriend in her sports bra with unbridled lust shining heavily on your pouty lips.

"Tell me you're wet for me," She says, "Please, Baby."

You're slipping deeper and deeper but you still have half a mind to lightly whisper, "Hazel, they're right downstairs-" She's already crashing her lips back down onto yours.

"Tell me you're wet for me," She murmurs against your lips, never being able to stray too far.

The hand that isn't holding her up, hovering above you, is once again, underneath your skirts, only this time, the tips of her fingers are dragging up against your inner thigh with no chance of stopping.

"Fuck, Hazel,"

"Is that supposed to be an answer?"

You're already pulling your own hips off the bed, seeking her hand out like a whore as you break the kiss only to whimper, "Yes, okay, fine! I'm so wet for you, Hazel- just, please!"

She watches completely fargone as you let your soaked panties meet her awaiting palm. Watching you grind yourself against her hand has Hazel's mind absolutely descending into lust.

"God, you're so beautiful," she says, before finally pressing her own hand against your soaked panties. She rubs in harsh, rough circles, eager to bring you to the very edge of insanity. She needed to see you fall apart for her again and again-

"Inside," You whisper, watching your girlfriend rub your cunt with bated breath. You're still wearing your skirt but you figure Hazel needs to fuck you in it to fulfil some sort of fantasy and you don't entirely mind. Not at all.

"Hazel, Please. I need you inside-"

"Fuck- you're such a slut-"

Your head immediately falls back against the bed as Hazel's movements against your soaked panties increases.

"You like it when I call you a slut, baby?" Your hips stutter upwards in vague response as you moan loudly into the air.

"Fuck- Hazel, I'm close- I'm so fucking- fuck," the orgasm sneaks up on you like a villain in the night and you're spamming underneath her, while Hazel continues to rub your cunt through the torrid sensation. Before you've ever even come down from your high, there's a knock on the door, and look towards it with slightly parted lips and blurry vision.

"Hey- you have no more soup, and I think you two are fucking in there so Josie and I are just gonna g-"

"Fuck off, PJ!" Hazel screams at the door, failing to hear the small little 'Okay, rude' before she's lifting your skirt until they're pooling at your hips.

"Hazel, what're you-"

"Another one, okay?" She nods encouragingly before shifting your panties aside and pressing the colds tips of her forefinger and middle finger against your soaked cunt. "You're going to give me another one. I wanna see if I can do it."

You can't even roll your eyes at her unnecessary display of pride because your eyes are rolling to the back of your head as she drags the essence of your arousal along your clit. "Fuck, you look so hot-"

"H-Hazel," the aftershocks from your previous orgasm rack through your upper body just as the oncoming tempest of lust gears you up for the next one. Hazel leans over you once more as she continues to rub at your clit, "Just one more, baby, I know you can do it. Show me, baby." It's downright evil, the effect her manipulation has on your body as you descend further and further into your lust.

"Look at how perfect you look," she says with a voice thick with lechery, "Fuck, you get me so wet to, baby," she murmurs before instinctive pressing her lips to yours once again, as if something nestled in her being, craved the touch of your lips against hers.

"You're gonna be a good girl for me?"

"Fuck- Hazel-"

"I'm right here, angel," she whispers, before bringing the tips of her fingers to your opening. Hazel is quick to slide her index and middle finger into your pussy until she's fucking you hard and deep. It takes a few short pumps for you to clutch mindlessly at her forearms with your vision slightly waning as you look up at your smiling girlfriend who watches you descend into your orgasm.

"That's it," she coos as you clench around her fingers, "You're doing so well for me, baby,"

"F-Fuck!" You stutter out as you fall into the depths of euphoria. Your mind is flooded with nothing but Hazel, all thoughts previously plaguing your brain is made null and void. In the end, you're just a beacon for her to release her frustrations out on. Even if it means overstimulating you until you become a noisy, helpless mess.

For a while, each other's heavy breathing is all you hear.

That is, until you hear a loud bump against Hazel's closed door, drawing both your attention.

"PJ-" whispers Josie with unimaginable frustration.

"Oh my God, they're definitely fucking-"

[carlyraejepsans]

until recently i was a "havent even touched the game in 8 years, i barely remember the characters" type of ut fan, but i just finished it again and my brain is active again, but im really rusty. i could only think of you to ask, please feel free to ignore if youve answered before or for any reason at all. ill send them by separating, first one is this: since flowey says he "could never get past Asgore if it werent for you" does that tie to the quality of his determination, stats, or gameplay? like is he simply stuck on the "playing" part, no matter what he has equiped or his LV, is he simply unable to manage the turns? im a shitty gamer myself, i can bet sans fight would succeed to stop me from finishing a NoMercy, so is the asgore fight equivalent of that for flowey? so he never got Any "ending" at all, just went around doing what he could, until only thing left was asgore, and reseted? if so, wouldnt that make it basically canon he'd tried a NoMercy and got stumped worse with sans? please tell me your thoughts on floweys time with the power to save and reset

Hi, and welcome back to the game! I was in your exact same position a couple of years ago, so I'm super flattered you're looking at me for information.

Flowey's final kill count before the events of the game is... debatable. More under the cut because this got long.

Of course, like you said, you have lines like the ones after you deal with Asgore for him:

Howdy! It's me, FLOWEY. FLOWEY the FLOWER! I owe you a HUGE thanks. You really did a number on that old fool. Without you, I NEVER could have gotten past him. But now, with YOUR help… He's DEAD. And I'VE got the human SOULS!

There's a pretty straightforward interpretation of this line, and it's the one you brought up: Flowey tried to defeat Asgore but couldn't, and he needed us to weaken him first to achieve his goal. The phrasing doesn't leave much to be contested. However! There's another Flowey line--this time in the geno route, I don't know if you've already gotten to it in your replay--that i feel can offer a slightly different perspective.

You understand, I've done everything this world has to offer. I've read every book. I've burned every book. I've won every game. I've lost every game. I've appeased everyone. I've killed everyone. Sets of numbers… Lines of dialogue… I've seen them all.

If you go with the previous interpretation, you can read this line as Flowey being hyperbolic, or taking some poetic liberty for the sake of rhetorical parallelism. But considering his larger metanarrative role as a mirror and reflection of the completionist player experience, I think it is also completely fair to assume that Flowey HAS, in fact, killed Asgore before. Just like he's killed Sans. Just like he's killed literally everyone who can be killed in the game, either directly or indirectly (see, in our case, Alphys).

This does require a re-framing of the post Asgore fight dialogue, however. Which is... actually not as much of a stretch as you'd expect!

"but now, with your help... he's dead. and i've got the human SOULs." -> i needed your help to kill him.

"but now with your help... he's dead. and i've got the human SOULs." -> i needed your help to get the SOULs, specifically.

It's a subtle difference, but one that gets corroborated, once again, in Flowey's NEW HOME monologue in the geno route.

We don't even need to leave to get them this time. The king has six of them locked away. I've tried hundreds of ways to get him to show me them… But he just won't. I know he'll do it for YOU.

Remember how the SOUL containers are hidden under the floor in front of the Barrier until the moment you and Asgore initiate the battle? There would be no way for Flowey to know where they were stored unless Asgore chose to show them to him.

If you want my personal favorite interpretation, I think it's pretty clear that I lean towards the second option. All while not discarding the idea that Flowey is just a bit of a shit gamer as unrealistic (for all he may trap us in unavoidable attacks over and over, he does get thwarted every single time). He certainly seems more apt in plotting schemes and manipulation than sheer fighting prowess. My preference also remains because, while Flowey IS softlocked out of the ability to "finish the game" until we (the true protagonist) start playing, that is because Undertale doesn't end when we kill Asgore: it ends when we get to the Surface. THAT'S the final objective Flowey wants, and can never achieve on his own in the state of the game before it begins. Whether Asgore is alive or dead is irrelevant.

My preference also comes from Asgore and Flowey's characterizations. We know that Flowey has spent a significant amount of time stalking and resenting and mocking and enjoying Toriel's suffering in the RUINs. He is extremely good at pushing buttons and digging wounds back open. And well, Asgore himself is actively suicidal by the time we get to him, and has been for a while. Think only of the ending where Flowey doesn't kill him, so he kills himself instead. Furthermore, if you look at Undyne's reminiscing during our date in pacifist...

Once, to prove I was the strongest, I tried to fight ASGORE. Emphasis on TRIED. I couldn't land a single blow on him!

...it's clear Asgore is not only a very strong opponent, but also capable of blocking/dodging attacks. Something he doesn't do during our battle with him, in order to give us a fair fighting chance. Which is also clear suicidal ideation. Now, once again you could use this dialogue to support the opposite thesis that Flowey never managed to kill him. Asgore clearly has past experience in fending off rabid 13yos who want to beat his ass. But he is also in a very fraught mental state as is. Flowey's... well, everything--his mere existence as a concept would be enough to make him want to die. You can't tell me Flowey never drove his father to suicide during his resets (think of Asgore and Alphys' parallels), OR his mother--though I don't think he would be successful in her case (which only makes him hate Toriel more.)

But I would say both options are very good and can both be used to explore their characterization, on their own and in relation to one another.

So while I don't disagree with your comment about the Asgore fight being Flowey's personal Sans fight, I do think Flowey's Sans fight WAS also just... the sans fight lmao. Possibly with easier requirements to face it than us, if you only consider this dialogue of his after several neutral endings in a row

You know. Smiley Trashbag. Say. If I have ONE piece of advice for you... DON'T. Let his brother. Find out ANYTHING about you. He'll... well… Let's just say. He's caused me more than my fair share of resets. Stay away from that guy.

Though it's true that that could both refer to his fight and other shenanigans Sans could have pulled to cause problems on purpose for a time traveler, if he really saw them as a threat that needed dealing with.

does that tie to the quality of his determination, stats, or gameplay? like is he simply stuck on the "playing" part, no matter what he has equiped or his LV, is he simply unable to manage the turns?

I'll leave that to your discretion, actually! Like I already mentioned, it does seem to me that Flowey's specific strengths lie in his ability to manipulate and plot from the shadows, but whether he's naturally good at battles or not, I think the core of what makes him dangerous is the same thing that made us dangerous too. The fact that his mistakes, at the end of the day, do not matter. Flowey can fail and die and try again every single time he wants.

Every other character only needs to mess up once.

When the bored time bending kid with a violent complex has the wheel, it's not a matter of "if" he beats you. It's a matter of when.

Hope that made some kind of sense!