#mark 💡

[tyger-land]

𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲. 𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝.

- Rob Siltanen; 1997 Apple Inc. ad campaign. Photographs of Steve Jobs, 1984, by Norman Seeff.

[shock-micro]

remember cycle? i just did. wanted to try actually animating them, even if just a little bit

[skaterlight-asks]

This might be a like. Not important detail but just out of curiosity, are Mark and Wallter still divorced in your au??

yes.,SADLY 😔😔

[regretakin]

hey lamps,

yer gay, bud! 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉 /silly

-mark

NUH UH!!! NUH UH!!!!!!!

also HI MARK!!!!! :D

youre gayer

[askwalmartniko]

Mark... i me... i mean Ed, what is your favorite game or game series?

"hello everybody" — entry 17

oh an ask for my dad !! he's not home right now so i'd have to text him. we text on and off and play games whenever we can uhh

we may be here for a while but lemme try and type what he'll say

Hi. Oh and common mistake. Very easy to get the two names mixed up, I assure you.

I appreciate the ask, and I'd have to say I'm rather fond of the Critter Crossing series, or if I'm feeling competitive, probably Fourteen Days. Five Days at Fred's is pretty overrated in all honesty...

[shouts-into-the-void]

The more I think about DM2, the more I'm positive the reason they didn't have Mashita show up until late in the game is that the entire Student-Teacher Scandal plotline would have gone out the window. No way anyone would see those two together and believe Yashiki was single lmao

Sakamoto: I know you're doing weird things with those two female students! Stay away from them you pervert!!

My sister in christ, he's GAY, his boyfriend is just OUT OF TOWN

[angelcake10023]

Spy x Family Episode Idea 💡 🎂🎉🎊🎁

(Plus some art at the end 👀)

I need a Spy x Family episode where Yor’s birthday is approaching and Loid of course knows and is prepared to make it special for her (to keep up their fake marriage for the mission of course). He gets her flowers and gifts and a card with help from Anya, and they cook all her favorites and plan a day out with all her favorite activities. Loid doesn’t leave a stone unturned in terms of birthday festivities, having read up on all the important things to do. They plan it all as a surprise for when she gets home from work, with Franky and Yuri (upset Loid is trying to “one-up” him) also there.

Yor, who completely forgot about her own birthday, comes home to a round of surprises with Yuri jumping in front. To which her instincts kick in and she panics and sends him flying with a kick to the chin.

Funny antics ensue until she calms down and realizes what’s happening and they all have a sweet family moment enjoying the party and Yor is happy and loved as she should be

Then the party is dying down, Franky and Anya are asleep on the couch and Yuri has gone home early to nurse the small concussion he got. Loid is cleaning up quietly and Yor thanks him genuinely for everything- she’s never had a real birthday party before after all… at least with people to celebrate it with besides Yuri. She talks about how grateful she is to have a family, even if it’s just pretend- it’s still given her real joy and purpose that makes celebrating birthdays more than just a mark of getting older. Loid is of course is happy the day went well, and that Yor is continuing to be content with their life together. He certainly doesn’t feel anything else when he sees the happy, genuine smile on Yor’s face- definitely not.

They finish cleaning and Yor says she wants to throw Loid an even greater party on his birthday to thank him. Loid smiles, then for a moment he pauses. He racks his brain for a moment, coming up empty. Loid Forger certainly had a birthday, it should’ve been the first thing to come to mind with the list of all his other extensive informations for the character. But instead he’d tried to think of his true birthday, the one he’d buried with his past self. The one he wished he could remember now and give to Yor instead of a lie.

He reassures her when she notices him lost in his thoughts, putting on his practiced smile, saying he’d enjoy that very much.

Then the next adventure is Yor realizing she doesn’t actually know Loid’s birthday and feeling too ashamed to ask, decides to go on a goose chase to try and figure it out lmao

[doiliedaze]

Shea Butter Baby

Warnings: intense make out, touch starved Sevika, fingering r! & s!receiving, praise, playful banter, choking s! receiving, pouty bimbo reader, dry humping (we need to bring this back), pussy suffocation r! receiving, marking, Sevika is turned on by your scent

Genre: smut

A/n: i was re-listening to Shea Butter Baby and was like 💡Sevika

───────┈ · ·

Nightlife. It’s loved for different reasons by different people but for you, your favorite aspect is the getting ready process!

You were putting your finishing touches together, lip gloss here and fixing your skirt (if you could call it that) there. Most importantly your hair! You had it in rollers since last night. Flattening what was necessary and fluffing what’s needed.

You are about to text your girls to start heading your way when you hear a wolf whistle flow through the air.

“Hi Vika” you turn to her and give her a 360 of your appearance. She’s leaning on the door frame before pushing herself off to get closer to you. “Look real pretty sweetheart” she murmures as her hand pulls you in by your waist.

A dopey smile breaks out on your face, “yeah?”

“The prettiest” she whispers as she kisses a trail down your neck. She inhales deeply pressing your hips to hers.

Her fingers slowly lift the inch of fabric you call a skirt and pushes your panties to the side. Her thick middle and ring finger pushes in as she walks you to the bed.

“Wait my hair-” she shushes you by kissing you. Her tongue sliding against yours.

You swallow a moan as you feel her fingers pick up the pace. “Miss you” she whispers as she pulls away to kiss your forehead.

Typically you’d respond if she wasn’t knuckles deep in your cunt at the moment. She smiles at the lack of response, look at you lost in bliss. Her mouth finds yours again and you lean into her.

Your leg moving from under her to wrap around her, so she can push deeper. There’s a build in your hips as they start to shake, and your back arches. Sevika moans as your nails scratch her back then move to squeeze around her neck.

The pitch of your voice fills the room as your body shakes through your orgasm. As you catch your breathe you look at her, “I’m supposed to go.”

“I know” she states with a smirk,”I couldn’t help myself though…” she aligns her clothed crotch onto you bare sopping one. The cold hardness of her zipper presses against your puffy clit.

“Fuck Sev” you moan as she creates a slow rhythm. Her fingers find their way into your hair. “Don’t pull” you whine, “shut up” she mutters as she bites your neck and pulls.

Her rhythm builds as she feels herself getting closer especially with the help of your grip around her neck tightening. You repeat her name as your hips shake again, that familiar burn in your tummy forming.

Her hips become a bit reckless and buries her head into your neck panting. The tightening grip on your hair starts a throb, a throb almost in competition with your clit.

She lets out a loud groan as she orgasms with you. Her body slightly weak on top of you. You caress her face softly and tilt her chin to make eye contact. “How fucked is my hair?”

She lets out a laugh, “is that all you can think about right now?” With a pout you nod yes. Shakily she gets off you and looks you over, “you could still go out”

Scurrying to look at yourself in your floor length mirror in your shared bedroom you gasp, “are you insane? I look like I’ve been attacked!”

“Exactly what I was going for.” She smiles laying back her legs hanging off the bed. Looking back at her and get on your knees, nuzzling in-between her legs. You smile as your hands trails down her thighs. Her abs contracting in anticipation.

She helps you slide off her pants and boxers. Her fat cunt was leaking and her engorged clit is begging for a kiss.

Slowly you lick at her clit then press a soft kiss against it causing her to whimper. You flatten your tongue as you bury yourself into her cunt.

Feeling her slick paint your nose to chin. You close your eyes in bliss as vika holds your face there, just wanting you to work your tongue. Her grip returning on your hair as she grinds against you. Her eyes fluttering as she moans your name.

You not breathing didn’t matter to either of you at the moment too focused on getting her to her nearing orgasm. Eventually her thrust becomes sloppy and her back arches. With tear brimmed eyes you look up at her. She couldn’t look down at you if she tried too lost in the pleasure.

Her nails scratch your scalp as she cums into your mouth. Her thighs trembling and her voice broken. When she lets you go she props herself up to look at you, “c’mere pretty.” With that she helps you up onto her lap.

“‘m sorry bout your hair doll.”

“It’s okay…I almost forgot about it” you laugh as you lay your head on her shoulder.

“How about to make up for it we go out out tomorrow?” She rubs your back and nod.

With a peck to your shoulder and the silence of the night the two of you fall asleep holding each other.

───────┈ · ·

A/n: I’m insanely horny and I’m insanely domestic, someone make me a housewife NOW ໒꒰ྀི ˃ ᵕ ˂ ꒱ྀི১

Taglist: @manfuckthisimout @bambishaven @femme-historian @furrytaesss @milanyas @highnfemme @5seos @artemisdreamfairie @ellabswife

Dividers- @anitalenia

[austinbutlerslovers]

Broken Pieces

Label Mature 18+

Summary When Hanks world comes crashing down, you’re the one he runs to and puts him back together.

💝Romantic Smut 💝 Hank hurt• angst• emotional  comfort • protective behavior • character trauma •domestic intimacy • Hank vulnerable • “I’ll take care of you” • kiss it better • Hank sub • cock worship •size kink• emotional p in v • sex while injured • sex as comfort • oral sex male rec • orgasms • swallowing • cream pie •soft aftercare  🔗 Masterlist 🧢 Hank Masterlist

💡 Plot Consultant @aust-een ✨ Inspo the beautiful Hank crying pic 💘

Broken Pieces

The apartment is warm with the scent of simmering pasta sauce, the table long cleaned up after you’d tried, unsuccessfully, to carve out a moment of peace for you and Hank. 

You made dinner. Set everything just right and waited.

But he didn’t show.

You spent the night pacing in your silk robe, nerves sharp, every passing minute tightening the knot in your stomach. 

No call. No message. Just silence.

So when you hear a loud banging on your door, your heart skips hard in your chest. You know it’s him. But when you unlatch the door open and see Hank… your heart plummets.

His sandy brown hair, usually tousled and charming, is matted with sweat, clinging to the nape of his neck. His pretty blue eyes, normally so bright, are shadowed… one swollen subtly with a black eye. 

His full lips, split and bloodied, are set in a tight, pissed-off line. Bruises mottle his cheek, and he moves stiffly, favoring his left side, his broad frame hunched like he’s trying to shrink himself.

His knuckles are raw, scraped to hell, and his shirt is torn at his neck, revealing a dark bruise blooming beneath his collarbone.

In his arms he’s clutching Bud the cat like a talisman, and as he lets him down gently, he struggles to stand back up, catching the doorframe for balance.

“Hank!” you gasp, your voice cracking. Your hands flutter, desperate to touch him but terrified of hurting him more. He’s so much bigger than you, towering and muscled, his presence usually a shield, but now he looks like a wounded giant, fragile and fraying.

“Hank, what the hell happened?” you ask, your chest tight with panic.

He waves you off, limping to the table and slowly pulling out a chair, sitting onto it with a pained grunt.

“It’s nothing,” he mutters, his voice low and clipped, but the way he winces as he shifts betrays him. “Just… leave it, alright?” His blue eyes flick to you, then away, like he can’t stand to bear your gaze.

Your stomach twists. Hank is never like this, so sharp, so closed off. He’s taken hits before, stumbled into chaos more times than you can count, but this… this is different. 

You stand frozen, your eyes tracing every mark on him: the swelling around his eye, the blood crusted on his lip, the way he holds his ribs like they might crack.

“Hank, you’re scaring me,” you say, your voice small but firm. “You’re hurt, and you’re… you’re mad. Please, just tell me you’re okay.”

He sighs, a harsh, frustrated sound, and runs a hand through his hair, tugging hard enough to make you flinch. 

“I… didn’t know where else to go,” he finally admits, and the crack in his voice giving everything away. He looks at you then, really looks — and the anger in his eyes softens, replaced by something raw… shame… regret. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to…” He trails off, rubbing his face carefully to avoid the bruises. “I… I fucked up so bad.”

You move closer, kneeling beside his chair, your hands covering over his thighs. “Tell me,” you plead, your voice thick with tears. “Hank, you’re beat to hell. I need to know what happened. Please.”

He leans back, his broad chest rising with a shaky breath. “Got in over my head….some guys came looking for Russ… they didn’t take kindly to my attitude. Ambushed me right outside my apartment. Two angry fuckers. I fought back—landed a few good ones—but they fucked me up good.” He gestures to his face, his ribs, a bitter laugh escaping that turns into a wince.

“I’m a damn idiot, and now you’re stuck lookin’ at this mess.”

Your heart shatters. Hank, your Hank, so strong, so larger-than-life, beaten down, caught in the fallout of whatever mess Russ left behind. 

Tears spill over, and you surge up, cupping his face with trembling hands, careful to avoid the worst of his bruises. His skin is warm against your palms, a stark contrast to the cold fear gripping you.

“Oh, Hank,” you choke out. “You didn’t deserve this. God, I’m so scared seeing you like this.”

His hands, large and calloused, settle on your hips, pulling you closer, his touch gentler than his mood. “Don’t cry, baby,” he pleads, his voice softening, though his eyes stay stormy, haunted.

You can’t stop yourself…you lean in and kiss him, desperate and feverish, needing to erase the pain, the anger, the shame. His lips are tender, swollen, tasting of blood and salt, but he kisses you back fiercely , his hands tightening around you like you’re his lifeline.

You climb into his lap, straddling his thighs, your smaller frame overtaken by his and he groans under you, but you don’t care. You kiss him harder, your fingers weaving through his hair, tugging gently. 

His hands roam your back, big and warm, pulling you flush against him. His bruises, his pain, only make you want him more, to love him until he forgets the world that hurt him.

“Baby,” he rasps against your mouth, his blue eyes locking onto yours, intense and unguarded.

You pull his torn shirt up, careful of his ribs, kissing every bruise, every scrape, your lips worshipping his battered skin. He groans again, a low, needy sound, his hands guiding you as you fumble with his zipper. 

He breathes sharply through his nose as he lifts his hips for you, his body surging with adrenaline.

You ease down the band of his boxers, and his cock slides up aching and tender already twitching against his stomach even with everything he’s endured. It’s almost too much, the way he looks up at you, wrecked and wanting, pain shadowing every breath with his need still pulsing through him.

You don’t even bother to disrobe, instead you pull your panties aside desperate, breathless. You sink down on him and he stretches you deep, the sudden fullness making your breath hitch.

His size is overwhelming as you settle on him and he whimpers a raw, broken sound that makes your heart ache. His eyes never leave yours, wide and glassy, brimming with tears.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “Don’t know what I did to deserve you.” 

His hands grip your hips, steadying you as you start to move, slow at first, mindful of his injuries but then his groans become louder, his head tipping back as he surrenders.

“Shh,” you murmur, kissing him again, your hands framing his face, thumbs brushing his jaw. “I’ve got you, Hank. Just breathe.”

You move faster, and the pain seems to spur him on, his hips thrusting up, his cock pulsing with every roll of your hips. He whimpers again, pleasure and pain blurring, his bruises forgotten in the heat of you.

“You feel…so good,” he gasps, his voice reverent, eyes burning into yours. “You’re making it….all go away.” He breathes his voice trailing off in pleasure.

You clutch him, nails biting into his shoulders, your breaths fast as you ride him. You kiss him hard, hands sliding up to cup the back of his neck, fingers grasping into the curls at his nape. He moans into your mouth, helpless, wrecked, and the sound goes straight through you. He feels too good, too deep, and soon you’re moaning with him, your voices blending together in desperate harmony. 

You start to come with a sob, your body trembling in his arms, and he follows—a guttural groan tearing from his lips as his release fills you deep inside.

His eyes stay locked on yours, even as he shudders, his feelings for you fierce and unwavering.

You rest against him, forehead to forehead, fingers tracing his lips, his curls, his bruised cheek. His arms tighten around you, still strong, despite everything holding you like he’s afraid to let  go.

“I’ve got you,” you whisper fiercely through your tears. “No matter what, Hank. You’re mine, and I’m not letting go.”

He exhales, a shaky, grateful sound, his blue eyes glistening. “I believe you,” he whispers, his voice raw and resilient. “With you, I’m safe.” he whispers, his words heavy with conviction.

You press a kiss to his lips, then one more between his brows where his forehead is tense. “You are Hank” you promise, your voice steady despite the ache in your heart. 

Carefully you slide off of him, your hands gentle as you tuck his softening cock back into his gray boxers. You try and help him up, your hands steady even though you feel like falling apart. 

As he stands, you ease off his torn shirt revealing his body covered in bruises of deep purples and reds blooming down his sides, your fingers hovering, wanting to heal what you can’t.

You crouch to untie his shoes, pulling them off one at a time, then peel down his jeans with quiet tenderness, leaving him in just his gray boxers.

You guide him gently to the orange lounger and he sinks down with hiss of pain, his jaw tight, eyes fluttering closed.

“I’m gonna fix you up, don’t you move,” you oder him, heading to the medicine cabinet and grabbing your first aid kit as you return. 

He’s a pathetic mess struggling to stay upright in the chair —his thighs spread wide, his broad chest slick with sweat, his head hanging low. 

You kneel between his legs and begin to clean him up, your hands steady, your touch careful and light. You finish wiping the blood from his nose, then the split at the corner of his lip, brushing your thumb there like it might soothe the sting.

His eyes fill slowly, glassing over, and it’s not just from the pain, but from the way you’re looking at him, touching him, like he’s something worth saving.

“Oh, Hank,” you whisper, shushing him as warm tears spill down his cheeks. He’s so beautiful when he cries, his face flushing a deep shade of pink from anguish, his blue eyes shimmering like glass with his full lips trembling.

You cup his jaw and press a kiss to his temple and his large hand clings to your wrist, keeping you close trying to hide the tears dripping down his face hot and fast.

His sob hitches as you gently wipe them away with your thumb, your lips pressing a soft kiss on his forehead to comfort him.

“Where does it hurt Hank,“ you ask, your voice heavy with concern, but he doesn’t answer right away instead his breathing grows heavier, as his eyes glaze over, lost somewhere else, reliving the ordeal all over again. 

“They ambushed me… it was fast,” he stammers, his voice rough, hesitant. “I was at my front door… had a bagel… they slapped it right outta my hand. Russian fucker socked me dead in the face… I didn’t expect it…it was all a blur after… had to keep Bud safe… had to run here…” 

His brows knit, his voice shaking, and you see the confusion in his eyes, the way he’s reliving it, blow by blow. 

Too many hits to his body..too much fear in his mind.

You quickly grab the bottle of pain pills from your kit pouring two in your palm. “Here baby,” you say, feeding them into his mouth. You planned to get him water but he swallows them dry, desperate, his throat working hard, Adams’s apple bobbing.

You climb back onto his lap, knees tucking in on either side of his waist, and your fingers  slide through his sandy brown hair pulling him gently against your chest, cradling him close. 

His warmth seeps into you, grounding you as you hold him, and his eyes flutter shut in your care, his breaths ragged but slowing.

You trail your fingers through his soft hair pulling gently to lift his face, urging him to look at you. His blue eyes, glassy and haunted, lock onto yours, and your heart aches seeing the vulnerability there.

“Hank, what are you gonna do?” you whisper, voice shaky but firm, stroking his face, your fingers tracing the unbruised patches of his jaw, careful to avoid the swollen, purpled skin.

“I… I don’t know,” he mumbles, his voice heavy, slurred. 

And thats what’s worries you …Hank, is always tangled in messes he can’t get out of and it fills your heart with dread.

His blue eyes gaze up into yours, seeing the stress written all over your face. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” he whispers, his bruised knuckles grazing your cheek as his large hand cups it. 

Your heart aches at his tenderness, and he kisses you, slow and deep, igniting something senseless, something demanding. 

You want to know that he can handle this, that he’s not just running again, but as his kisses pull you under he drowns all your doubts. 

You give in, craving him just as fiercely as he craves you, your mouths moving together passionately, his full lips soft despite the split, stealing every thought from your mind. 

“The pain pills are working,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice slow and deep, a faint smile forming. 

You smile back, relieved, and then you feel it, the press of his cock against you, hard and insistent. You sigh into his mouth, your hand drifting down his abs, fingers grazing the taut muscle as he kisses the curve of your neck, his breaths hot and uneven knowing exactly what he needs.

“Don’t move,” you whisper, kissing down his neck, tasting the salt of his sweat on his bruised chest. 

“Baby…..”he breathes, his emotions a wreck as you pull his cock out for the second time like it’s the golden ticket to solve all his problems.

You sink to your knees, your hands steadying his thighs, and you take him into your mouth, slow and purposeful.

His eyes ache for you, wide and shimmering, brows knitted as he watches.“Fuck, I’m so lucky,” he gasps, his voice pathetic, breaking as you move faster, your lips tight, tongue swirling. 

He’s gorgeous, full lips parted, as he softly groans, hips twitching upward in gentle thrusts as he fights to stay focused. “You’re so good… so fuckin’ good,” he praises, his hand fisting your hair, careful not to push. 

You know it feels incredible to him, the way he’s gliding in and out of your mouth, his breathing ragged, body trembling. 

When he starts to come, it’s with a soft, desperate cry, his hips bucking, release spilling hot and fast down your throat. You stay with him, hands soothing his thighs as he shudders, spent, his eyes still locked on yours, brimming with gratitude.

His breaths are sharp as you slide your mouth from him, his face wrecked, flushed pink. You tuck his cock back into his gray boxers, hands grasping onto his, trying to pull him up, but he’s a mountain compared to you. 

“Come on, Hank,” you urge, and as he stands, he doesn’t wince, the meds actually dulling his pain …for now.

You help him to the bed, easing down his battered body carefully, and he sprawls out with a shuddering breath. You lay beside him, fingers smoothing back the soft strands of hair from his forehead. “Just rest, okay?” you soothe him, your voice tender.

He nods, barely, his voice cracking. “Okay…” he breathes, his eyes heavy.

“You’re safe Hank. I’m here.” You whisper as his eyes flutter shut, and you stay close, watching over him as he sleeps—battered, bruised, but not broken. 

Not while you’re by his side.

Morning light spills through the sheer curtains, and Hank’s already up, tugging a dark gray shirt over his head with a wince of soreness, his movements carrying a rushed energy, like his intentions are set.

You slowly sit up, sleepiness still clinging to your voice.“You running again?” You ask, laced with concern.

He pauses, turning to you, his blue eyes softening. “Just gotta deal with a few things, baby’,” he says, his voice low, trying to soothe you, but you’re not convinced. 

You stretch, yawning, and slide out of bed, following him to the kitchen, Bud hungry and tangling through your feet until you pick him up. “If you run from what you’re afraid of, it owns you,” you say, offhandedly, the words sharp despite your efforts as you place Bud on the couch. 

He stops at the kitchen counter, his broad shoulders tensing under his dark gray shirt. 

“Can you… watch Bud for me?” he asks, his voice low, edged with stress, the words heavy with unspoken weight.

The question hits like a jolt, startling you, and you pause, eyes narrowing as the depth of what he's asking sinks in. Bud the cat, the one thing tying him to Russ, to all the trouble he's running from.

"What the fuck is going on, Hank?" you demand, your voice sharp, fed up with the evasiveness

He flinches, barely, but you see it. His jaw tightens, a flicker of pain behind his eyes, like he knows he's doing something he shouldn't.

You step closer, chin lifted. "I need to know you're a guy who can take care of his shit," you say, your voice resolute, frustration pleading through.

Hank crosses the space between you, his large hands framing your jaw, his thumbs brushing your cheeks. He kisses you fiercely, a vow in every press of his lips, all conviction and fire before he pulls back locking eyes with yours.

"I can handle it," he says, voice low and sure, his blue eyes burning into yours. "I swear, baby. I'll fix this."

Then he turns as you watch him leave, the door clicking shut behind him, your breath catching in your throat.

Hope and fear knot in your chest, clinging to his promise, praying that for once Hank will come back to you in one piece, his battles fought and won, his heart finally yours.

To Be Continued 🧢

🔗Masterlist 🧢Hank Masterlist

🏷️ Always Tag Me List

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[shock-micro]

...Actually, I did make a small edit to a meme last night that I can share. Here it is:

[skaterlight-asks]

U should ask Lampert's parents 2 babysit 4 monster truck launcher :3

💡 I would but Waltler’s currently at a business meeting and mark is helping poob rebuild they’re house after it got destroyed again..

child arc 9/7

[coolchickgigi]

Okay okay hear me out! I’m new at writing but would it be possible to just spit out the idea 💡

Let’s say we are in the omegaverse (the ABO where alpha O and beta A exist)

There are 2 omega reader bffs, one was an Omega A and the other an Omega O. Both friends have been very close throughout school as they looked after eachother. Especially Omega A who always stood up for Omega O. Their plan after school was to travel the world to study abroad, but they each wanted to go to different schools in other parts of the world. So they promised to keep in contact and support each other from far away. They both shared an interest in nursing and wanted to help in the military. Thankfully both schools are quite close to military bases.

As both omegas go to their chosen universities, they venture on into those fun college night outs. They seem to be attracted to the bars where soldiers go to unwind. As their each in different parts of the world, they still text each-other telling the other what their plan was for the night. Betting how many drinks they can get for free, how many people they can make hot and flustered, even comparing who had the hottest guys at their bar. Well coincidentally both omegas found themselves in the hungry eyes of their own future pack.

Omega A found herself in the sight of the most strongest military pack, Task force 141. Her confidence in handling herself in public, despite being an omega, has intrigued the pack. They were both enthralled and concerned about your safety as you flirted and played with the poor soldiers heart strings, don’t worry love they’ll save you soon and fix that straight out of you. (heh try to)

It was Captain Price who brought attention to the rest of his boys to you. Price was an Alpha A with a level head unlike most alpha A’s who were known to be aggressive and overly dominant. He made sure to hold power over his men while being a good and protective alpha. Whereas he had his lieutenant, Ghost, who was also an alpha A, who had a deep strong loyalty to his pack and his captain. He is reserved most of the time but can become very aggressive when needed to be. (Oh don’t get me started on how bad his ruts can be, poor Johnny) Then the other pack members, Gaz who is a Beta A and Soap a Beta O. They worked together to bring a balance to the pack and being there for their alphas of the pack. However it was mostly Johnny who became the most helpful with the alphas ruts. Simon always calling the Scot a mutt in heat, since Johnnys ruts were more like heats as he became in tuned with the pack.

Thankfully, you were just what they were looking for. They needed an omega who could handle the demands of two powerful alphas, and the young energetic energy of the packs two betas. They just needed to find their ways into your bubble and court you properly dear. Don’t worry, their already marking you as their own in their heads as they challenge every other soldier with an icy glare and their strong scents already scaring off the poor alpha who left you with his tail tucked. Now you just needed to stomp your way to them and they’ll handle your pretty self just fine love.

As for Omega O, she found herself at the bar that was most frequented by the Kortac pack on rare occasions. Luckily for them, they came after a long mission and found you incredibly drunk and had a boost of confidence, despite being shy most of your life. You felt the need to prove yourself since you always felt like you were seen as weak for being an Omega O. So you stomped your small feet up to the biggest soldier you saw, pointing your much smaller finger up to his face, which really only reached his chest, demanding a staring contest. Unlucky for you, you challenged Konig, the Alpha A of the Kortac pack. He didn’t really like being challenged, his subordinates knew that better than anyone else. But to you, he could only smirk down thinking how cute you were being, and also wanted to see when would it be good to correct your behavior. He couldn’t get out of the challenge anyway, as you seemed to have started the contest already as you stare drunkenly into his deep blue eyes through his mask. Without knowing you started, he blinked as he looked to his pack to see if they see this. Hornagi, the beta A of the pack, snickered and couldn’t help but find the whole thing interesting. His other pack mate, Kreuger, an Alpha beta was more focused on how your eyes lit up as you declared you won. Konig who looked back down at you, speaking in a his deep accented voice, “don’t think that’s how it works, and don’t you know how to speak to your superiors”. Which all you could do was laugh with a challenging grin, “you’re just mad I won and you lost!”. But the alpha could only roll his eyes and let a small smirk slip under his mask. It was Hornagi who called out and told you to come challenge some real alphas, picking fun at the tall Austrian man who glared at him. You drunkingly turned and wobbled your way to the table to get every last drop worth of your strong buzz. But as you all play drinking games, they sneakily tell the bartender to just give you water. Which you still happily chugged in triumph unaware of the change in flavor. They just couldn’t believe such a small Omega O could be so energetic and even more so not afraid of them. But the more you let yourself get comfortable so did they, and after that night they needed to make sure you weren’t getting hurt by the wrong people. So they obviously made a pack decision to court you. Don’t worry little maus, they’ll keep you under their watch and hopefully under them soon. They’ll show you how good it is to be in a pack that can and will protect you, they have no doubt about that.

And when both friends, Omega O and Omega A, finally get back together after finishing schooling, they each have a pack mark to show off. Each sharing their stories of how it happened, and best believe these two won’t leave out any juicy details.

Okok sorry for long post but please tell me if I should dive more into this 👀

I can make separate stories of each of the omegas experiences, and even have it where the best friends work together. Like playing games with their pack and seeing what reaction they’d get. Ahhhh I’m sorry ok I’ll stop ✋ (not)

I’ve been wanting more fics of the cod omegaverse so I had to do it myself. Please lmk if you like this idea, if not I might still write it anyway

[regretakin]

LITTLE GUY

i named him infected jr.

[lovlidollie]

Feyd cockwarming 💡😈

i have so many thoughts about this.

whenever you’re in a particularly subby or small headspace, you love crawling into feyd’s lap and sinking down onto his thick cock. the stretch makes your brain buzz so nicely, makes you feel so floaty and good. feyd is big in all aspects, big cock, big hands, big legs, big everything. your thighs would perch on top of his, one of his hands wrapping itself possessively around your waist while the other rubs your ass. you’d burrow your head in his neck, sucking the skin there to mark him for everyone to see. feyd is big into marking, he likes bruising and biting your pretty skin, and adores it when you do the same. he’d smirk at how far under you are and how you periodically clench around him. it’s hard for feyd to stop himself from desperately fucking up into you. he gives you enough time to destress and relax whilst impaled on him before he goes completely animalistic.

on the other hand, feyd uses cockwarming as a punishment. say you’ve been bad today; you’ve been ignoring him, not listening, you’re touching up the guards more intimately than you have to. feyd doesn’t have a lot of patience, but when it comes to discipline? he can sit there and punish you for hours on end before he so much so as even thinks of fucking you. his favourite way to do it is to get you completely naked while he still has all his clothes on. it’s a humiliation tactic that works wonderfully on you. feyd would force you to sit on his lap, the real punishment being that you aren’t allowed to face him. he places you with your back to his chest, and pries your legs apart so he can force himself into you. he doesn’t prep you (why would he it’s your punishment) and it fucking hurts. on a good night where he’s spent hours dutifully spreading you open so you can take him somewhat comfortably, it still pinches when he slides in. on a night like this, feyd relishes your pained cries and how your legs jerk in his hold from the intrusion.

“stay still,” he’d hiss at you. if you so much so as clenched a little too hard he’d pull himself out and use his belt on you.

feyd would make you sit on his cock for hours. you’re leaking around him, dripping onto his balls and the bedsheets underneath. you’re crying too, you just want to look at him, want to see him. it feels so detached and isolating not being able to face him. no matter how much you cry or how much you plead and apologise, feyd wouldn’t give in. it would hurt him, to keep you in a position like this for so long, but discipline was discipline and if this was the only way to fix your behaviour then he would do it over and over again.

when he finally thinks you’ve had enough, he’d slip himself out, and you’d gush around nothing. he’s throughly split you open, your hole gaping with your arousal. feyd would pick you off his lap and lay you down on his bed. the second you see him again you start crying relieved tears. he’s rock hard and instead of fucking you like you think he will, he fists his cock over your body until he cums, using you as a literal cumdump.

[sonic-gallery]

Today marks the 5th anniversary of the release of the retro and new Sonic Mania 🎊

Ray and Mighty 💡 appear in the DLC "Encore Pack" of this game It's a fresh yet somehow nostalgic character 👾😆

Ray's appeal when clearing a stage seems to be synchronized with the player's sense of accomplishment 😉

#Sonic #SonicMania

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Pspspsps...

💡

(Also...Hi...Also... I need Freminet to meet Legacy and have them bond over the best places to find underwater shiny things for us/the melusines)

*eats the lightbulb* mmmm, crunchy hehe

they meet, as fate would have it, when you're diving around the reef with Foul Legacy. you thought you would be safe from other beings- humans rarely dive out this far, and all the creatures of Fontaine's sea respect and adore you, so both you and Legacy reel back in surprise when a figure wearing a diving helmet swims by. to your credit, Freminet startles just as much as you do, although he doesn't have a protective, growling Abyssal monster to hide behind. he hastily drops his claymore and holds up his hands to show that he means no harm- after all, he's heard rumors from a few of his siblings, about a Melusine with shimmering markings and the terrifying, noble beast that follows and protects. he's connected the dots. he knows who you are. and Freminet bows to you, awkwardly, underwater, his helmet creaking quietly as he does

your antennae twitch, legs kicking as you swim closer and lightly place your hand on his head, and Foul Legacy's shoulders drop in relief

they get along splendidly, Legacy and Freminet. there's no need for words, only the vast ocean and all its secrets. they swim around together, collecting fallen gears and seashells and rough chunks of crystal to bring back to Merusea. Freminet is one of few who is privy to the village's secret location, occasionally dropping by to keep you company while Foul Legacy is gone on Tartaglia's business. he sits by you and Mamere, watching you paint, and never squints too closely at the jagged patterns on your arms and legs. it's rude, after all. you both have had your fair share of troubles, for now it's nicer to simply exist, to be friends. although, he does hope you won't mind if he tells the twins. Archons know they need a bit of brightness in their world at times