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splatattackz · 8 months

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Death (noun.)

aka hotel au slimecicle fucking dies

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(story under cut i dont want to clog tag and stuff)

Death is a weird thing.

Especially in this hotel.

Everyone reacts differently.

Charlie didn't know how to react.

It all came so suddenly. The feeling of a metal bar on his abdomen. The stinging and fiery sensation of pain as acid ate at his body - a feeling that lasted a bit too long for Charlies liking. And then the wave of calm. The feeling of floating in space, and the sight of stars surrounding him. He didn't know what to make of it.

"How unfortunately fortunate!" a monotone voice chanted the back of his mind. It felt as if it came from both nowhere and everywhere at the same time.

Charlie couldn't say anything in response to the voice. It was like all the air from his lungs had been stolen. It was choking. But he was not dying.

Then, abruptly, the voice stopped. A deafening silence filled the air for what felt like an eternity. And then a whisper. And then a thousand whispers, all overlapping each other.

Eat the star. Eat the star. Eat the star. Eat the star. Eat the star. Eat the star. Eat the star.

Over and over again.

It was overwhelming.

It was so loud.

Slowly, a small star, maybe the size of an apple, floated down in front of Charlie as the whispers grew louder and louder. It burned brightly, illuminating nearly the entire room. Heat radiated off of it like a hot oven.

But Charlie barely hesitated in eating the star. Anything. Anything to make the noise stop.

As soon as he ate the star, all the whispers fell silent in an split second. If Charlie could breathe, he wouldve sighed in relief. Quiet. At last. Gods had such an empty silence never felt so good.

But such peace was short-lived. Very short-lived. After a few minutes of silence, the pain started again. It felt like dying all over again.

It was like, one by one, each of Charlies limbs were exploding and then re-assembling. Tearing apart down to his bones and then re-sewing themselves together into something new. It was excruciating. It was almost as bad as the whispers from before.

Charlie must've passed out from it because when he blinked next, he was in the staff-only room of the hotel. He sat up and looked at his hands. They were no longer flesh. None of his body was. It was all.. goop. Green slime. It felt.. weird. So, so weird.

He didn't know what to make of it. Just a few minutes before, he had been human. And he had been alive. But now.. he wasnt sure he was either of those. He couldn't be either of those.

"What the fuck just happened." Was all Charlie could muster to say as he turned his head to look at the only other 2 people in the room with him - Jaiden and Fit. They both just shrugged.

"Welcome to the staff!" Fit laughed, "You'll get used to the whole death thing."

…

Death surely is a weird thing.

Charlie would rate it 1 star on Yelp.

#qsmp hotel au #drops this here and runs #one day ill finish writing the first chapter of this au #i have many thoughts #but for now you just get drabbles like this #in the meantime! you can also drop any questions at all in my ask box!#i LOVE talking ab this au so please!#bc like its so cool #qsmp #qsmp writing #qsmp au #qsmp slimecicle #my writing #qsmpattackz #splatattackz

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phillipsgraves · 1 year

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you didnt ask but "Accidentally admitting that the other is really pretty, leading to both of them getting very flustered" + grazie stares at you

quit starin at me with those big ol eyes smh. also this got long. and a little spicy and limey at the end so. peace and love on the planet earth ✌️😗

"Need a sparring partner?"

Graves nearly jumps out of his skin at the sudden intrusion, tearing his gaze away from the dummy he'd been pummeling for the past half hour. The intruder, as he were, only turned out to be Apollo. A quick onceover reveals that he's also dressed for a workout.

"Jesus," he mumbles with a shake of his head. "Don't scare me like that," he tells the other man, as he catches his breath. "Could've punched you, instead."

Apollo laughs, stretching his arms with a crack of his knuckles. "My bad, Commander. It seems I have a bad habit of sneaking up on people. You, in particular." He looks over his shoulder, towards the practice dummy in front of him. "Offer still stands, though." A pause. "How's the injury?"

Graves clicks his tongue. "It's hardly an injury at this point, lieutenant. I'm fine. Still— I'm trying to get back into shape after being out of commission for so long. Maybe it'll help having an opponent who actually fights back." He grins up at him. "First one to the ring gets the first hit."

Apollo scoffs. "Are you really going to be that childish—" he's effectively cut off by Graves taking off, cheering when he gets to the training mat first.

"I win, De Rossi! Get your ass over here already!"

Apollo rolls his eyes. "Yes, yes you are," he says, but he nonetheless jogs his way over, climbing into the ring. "Fine, you win," he tells him, as he leans back against the ropes. "Ground rules?"

"Same as usual," Graves replies, stretching his arms. "No low blows, three taps if you're out." A pause, as they get into position, settling into a fighting stance. "And don't hit me in the face."

Apollo snorts. "No promises," is all he says before Graves takes the first swing at him. It hits him square in the jaw, sending him stumbling to the side, but he quickly recuperates. He holds his fists up when Graves goes in for another jab, retaliating with an uppercut.

Graves stumbles back with a laugh, quickly raising his arms back into his previous stance. "You hit pretty hard, lieutenant," he compliments, as he circles around the other man. "You got a grudge against me, or what?"

Apollo circles his movements with a grin. "No, just all that training paying off, sir."

"That's what I like to hear," Graves replies, and there's no stopping nor hiding the surge of pride he feels. "My Shadows should be the best of the best."

"Naturally," Apollo replies, swinging his leg for a roundhouse. Unfortunately for him, Graves quickly anticipates his movement, sidestepping him. Graves then uses the momentum to grab onto his leg, sending Apollo tumbling onto the mat with a resounding 'oof.'

Graves comes falling alongside him, but he recovers faster, using Apollo's disoriented state to roll over on top of him, effectively pinning him to the mat. "Well, how about that," he teases, sounding far too cocky for his own good. "Best two out of three?"

"Haven't tapped out yet," Apollo points out with a groan. Still, Graves has a good grip on him— he struggles to find a window of opportunity. He takes a moment to look at his commanding officer in the face, partially drinking him in. Dark blue eyes and a scar that highlighted his features perfectly…

Well, he'd be lying if he said Graves wasn't a handsome man, even accounting for his lack of sleep on some days.

A lightbulb goes off in his head.

"On the contrary..." Apollo starts, voice suddenly all sorts of sultry. "You look very gorgeous sitting on top of me like this, Commander," he says. He holds back the urge to laugh when that gets the exact reaction he's looking for— Graves going tomato red, a stumbling mess. "I might have to lose to you more often."

With wide eyes, Graves swallows hard when he seems to realize how their position might've looked. He feels hotter under the collar, and if his sweatpants felt a little tighter, well— no one needed to know. "I—"

He has his second realization too late when he remembers that they were, technically, still sparring. Apollo uses his lapse in judgement to flip them over, effectively pinning Graves down by his neck. "Looks like I win after all, Commander."

Still stammering, Graves takes a moment to look up at the other man, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. "Asshole. I said—" he starts, wrapping a hand around Apollo's wrist, "I said no low blows. That was cheap and you know it."

Apollo laughs, carefully letting go, but he doesn't make a move to roll off just yet. "I didn't hit you, did I? I'd say I was still well within the rules."

"Yeah, well, let's agree to disagree," Graves croaks out, absentmindedly licking his lips. "Good fight, though," he adds, still busy drinking him in. His next words fly out of his mouth before it registers that he's even said them.

"You're pretty."

His third realization hits when he notices Apollo staring at him like a deer in headlights. He doesn't think it's possible for him to blush any brighter as he brings a hand to his face. "Sorry, that just came out. I—" he pulls his hand away when Apollo laughs. It sounds more flustered than amused and Graves' traitorous heart decides he likes the sound of it.

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Commander."

"Probably in your pants, if I'm not careful," Graves replies with laughter of his own. When it eventually dies down, Apollo breaks the silence by clearing his throat.

"I should… probably get up now, though."

"Hold on," Graves tells him, as he gently grabs onto the back of his neck. He holds Apollo's head down as he leans up, but he freezes as his nerves suddenly get the better of him. He shakes them off as he leans back in— both of them recoil in pain when their noses hit instead.

Graves sighs in frustration. "This worked out a lot better in my head."

"Maybe," Apollo replies, as he slowly leans back in. "But I think I prefer this version instead." He gasps in surprise when Graves takes the opportunity to smash his lips against his. It's… sloppy, and they both end up wincing when their teeth end up clashing for a moment.

Even then, Apollo has to admit he's a damn good kisser, and he doesn't stop the noise rising up his throat when Graves flips them back over. He laughs when he pulls away, a string of saliva still keeping them connected. "Keep that up and you really will end up in my pants."

Graves rolls his hips, eliciting another moan from both of them. "Maybe that's a good thing," is all he says before closing the distance again.

#drops this here and runs #these two really unlock something primal in my head huh #oc: apollo de rossi #x: apollo & graves #my writing #asks #jendoe

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daily-crowley · 9 months

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Crowley Of The Day: how are the back of their heads attractive also?

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bluedovee · 6 months

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Murder time trio dogpile ;)

Doodled this in a cheap sketchbook on copy paper, digitized it and it looks unfairly nice for starting out as a doodle

Horror belongs to Sour-Apple-Studios

Killer belongs to Rahafwabas

Dust belongs to Ask-Dusttale

#undertale #utmv #utau #killer sans #dust sans #murder sans #horror sans #murder time trio #bad sanses #bad sans gang #why do they look so romantic?#killer with his tongue out #LOOK at where killer is ALMOST touching horror's hand #horror is looking DIRECTLY at dust 👀#bad sans poly?#ngl i am having a terrible time in class #i need stress relief #drop this here and run

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xjustakay · 2 months

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jegulus micro(?)fic — 2,213 words. nsfw; the ‘James-desperately-needs-something-in-his-mouth’ episode (dedicated to my dear darling @imdamagecontrol<3)

James’ hands flex in and out of fists behind his back, wrists straining against silk tied in a firm knot around them. In reality, if he squirmed enough he could probably worm his way out of the restraint, it’s just one of Regulus’ ties, after all. But that’s not really the point.

The point, actually, is that James needs this.

He’s been so stressed lately, juggling more than he can properly carry, and it’s started to weigh on him. Make him overwhelmed. Change his mood enough to be apparent. Typically, he does a good job at hiding it, but some days…

Some days the itch beneath his skin gets a little too insistent. Some days his tone turns clipped and his mannerisms become twitchy and all that he feels is suddenly visible.

And those days, well. Those days pile up, to the point that he needs a good break.

Regulus doesn’t particularly enjoy it when he lets himself get so deep in it —there’s been pointed comments about taking care of himself over the last couple days as he’s noticed progressive changes in James. So when James had come home today after yet another long one, feeling ready to tear right out of his own skin, he’d asked.

“Can you take care of me tonight?”

Once he’d made sure he understood what it was James was asking for, Regulus was quick to give him just what he needed. A loose hold at his throat, a level stare as he pulled him inches away from his face.

A promise between the lines of Regulus’ murmured, “Be good and wait for me.”

He’d waited on the floor at the foot of the bed for ten minutes after stripping down to just his briefs, knees twinging as he tried to balance his weight more comfortably. Then Regulus had come in, wordlessly giving him a once-over before he undressed. He’d muttered gentle praises when James had let him tug both arms behind his back, Regulus securing his tie around his wrists.

Now, a familiar hand brushes his cheek, trails down to his neck. Regulus thumbs at his Adam’s apple and James swallows beneath it, staring at the jut of Regulus’ hip bone where he stands in front of him.

“Alright?” Regulus checks, hand curling loosely around his throat, pulling him close again, just like earlier.

James inhales deeply where his nose presses right above Regulus’ navel. He leaves a gentle kiss there, nods his head. The hand at his throat tightens.

“Use your words,” Regulus instructs.

“I’m good.”

James traces his tongue downward, through the thin trail of dark hair that disappears beneath the waistband of Regulus’ briefs. He catches the elastic between his teeth, tugs at it, lets it snap back against porcelain skin. Ducking lower, James mouths at the outline of Regulus’ cock, tongue wetting the fabric and feeling the way he’s slowly filling out under the attention. Regulus allows it for a few seconds more, a low hum leaving him that has heat pooling low in James’ stomach.

The pressure at James’ throat shifts and Regulus’ fingers sink into his dark hair, grip slowly tightening, palm a solid weight at the nape of his neck. His other hand tucks beneath James’ chin, his head guided into tilting backward between the two. James blinks slow, looks up toward Regulus’ face from beneath his lashes. Breathes deep. Waits.

“What do you need tonight, James?” Regulus asks; his voice is honey, thick and sweet and dripping warmth down every groove of James’ spine.

He keeps James’ chin in the curl of his fingers but stretches his thumb to trace a slow circle around his mouth. He leaves it pressed against James’ bottom lip, James darting his tongue out at it for the briefest taste. One brow arches as Regulus looks down at him.

“Something in your mouth, maybe?”

When all James does his nod, Regulus tugs sharply at the back of his hair —an unspoken demand. James’ mouth drops open, a soft gasp between parted lips.

“Yes,” He whines. “Please.”

“There you go, baby, that’s so good,” Regulus hums.

James’ lips twitch helplessly when Regulus moves to readjust his glasses for him. It’s such a tiny gentleness, a common show of his care for him, no matter how out of place it may seem in a moment like this.

The fond appreciation that unfurls warmth in his chest is derailed in seconds by the shift of Regulus’ foot, nudging between his thighs, pressing. James’ eyelids flutter as he sucks in a shallow breath. His hips twitch forward against the barely-there pressure on his cock, hard and aching in his own briefs.

“Do you think you deserve it?” Regulus asks.

He tugs at James’ hair again to jerk his head back further, presses his foot more firmly between his legs. James is already starting to feel dizzy with it; the waiting, the care, the teasing, all building into a burning buzz that’s much more pleasant than the anxious itch that’s bothered him for days. He rocks against Regulus’ foot with a shaking, needy sound crawling up his throat.

“I need it, baby.”

“But that’s not what I asked this time, is it?” Regulus counters, tone vaguely patronizing.

It shouldn’t make James’ cock twitch the way that it does, really. Shouldn’t make him unable to bank a whimper when he rocks his hips forward again.

“Do you think you deserve it?” Regulus repeats. He inches his foot away, and James whines in protest. “God, listen to you. You really do need it, don’t you?”

James nods urgently, breath hitching in his chest. “I do. Please, Regulus.”

It’s a miracle he doesn’t whimper another time when Regulus takes a small step backward, all touch falling away from him. The silver lining is watching him tuck a thumb into either side of the band on his briefs, pulling them down and stepping out of them.

Wanting eyes immediately land on Regulus’ cock the second it’s in front of him. Even the huff of Regulus chuckling above him doesn’t draw his focus away. He watches intently as Regulus wraps a hand around himself and strokes slowly.

Blown pupils hide nearly all the grey of Regulus’ irises when James finally glances up at his face again. He shifts up straighter on his knees, mouth falling open already when Regulus steps forward. A smirk tugs at the corners of Regulus’ lips and his free hand sinks into James’ hair.

He pauses in guiding his cock to James’ waiting mouth, slick head nudging his bottom lip. “What do you say?”

“Thank you.” Punches breathlessly out of James in an instant.

Regulus’ smirk inches wider and he gives a single nod. It’s all the go ahead James needs to tilt forward and finally —finally— take him into his mouth. The grip in his hair tightens as James swallows his length down, letting the weight of him settle on his tongue. He hums appreciatively around him, keeping his motions shallow to hit the back of his throat each time.

Despite the tight hold on his hair, Regulus lets James move as desired. His wrists strain against the silk around them when he instinctively wants to reach forward and balance his hands on Regulus’ thighs, but he’ll make do. He always does.

After a little while, Regulus’ other hand joins the first in his hair. He halts James’ continued movements and holds him in place.

James moans the second he starts fucking into his mouth, eyes rolling back. There’s spit collected at the corners of his mouth, sliding down his chin. Each snap of Regulus’ hips has his cock hitting the back of his throat, his moans turning garbled and wet —filthy— while Regulus looses a winded string of swears.

“This— fuck—” Regulus hisses when he thrusts forward again and James swallows, letting him feel the way his throat tightens. “This is exactly what you needed, isn’t that right, baby?”

James hums his answer, eyelids fluttering as he opens glassy eyes to look up. There’s tears building at the corners, and on a particularly hard snap of Regulus’ hips one rolls hotly down his cheek. His cheeks burn, that and the panted breaths out his nose fogging up the bottom of his glasses lenses.

James doesn’t fucking care. He doesn’t care about any of it. Let Regulus make a complete mess of him. Let Regulus use him as he sees fit.

This is all James wanted, what he needed. To release the tension he’s been feeling for days, to give up the vice grip he’s tried to maintain on control of anything at all. To be taken care of in this way; something filling his mouth and Regulus just taking from him.

He knows when Regulus is close; words are no longer manageable and his thighs tremble, thrusts becoming erratic. James expects him to come down his throat, is awaiting the burst of warmth, ready to eagerly swallow all he has to give him. But abruptly, Regulus yanks at his hair with both hands, tugging him off.

James whines brokenly, a thick string of drool connecting the corner of his mouth and Regulus’ cock. His throat is wrecked; it’s a pitiful, pathetic sounding thing when he manages a desperate, “No.”

Panting, Regulus shakes his head back and forth. One hand moves from James’ hair, thumb breaking the string of spit when he smears the slickness surrounding James’ mouth. Making an even bigger mess of him. James licks after it, twists his tongue around it, trying to be enticing, trying to get him back inside.

Regulus drops his hand entirely, grips his cock instead. He stares intently down at him, demands from between his teeth, “Keep your tongue out for me.”

Wanting to be good and knowing what’s next, James obliges. Regulus drags his hand in hurried tugs over his cock and he watches hungrily. Anticipation burns a fire in James’ veins, sends his pulse roaring in his ears, as he waits, spit pooling in his open mouth, dripping more down his chin.

It’s a minute more before Regulus cries out, head thrown back and hips lurching forward as he comes. Hot strips of white land on James’ top lip, his tongue, his glasses. Cum drips down the one lens to land on his cheek and James can’t hold back a whimper, mouth still open. He hasn’t been told to close it yet.

“Fucking Christ,” Regulus groans, hand slowing over himself as he comes down from his orgasm.

His chest is as flushed as his face, heaving with uneven breaths, and he’s fucking gorgeous like this. Wrung out and a little wobbly on his legs, shiny-eyed and out of breath. James feels just as high as Regulus looks. Even with his cock still painfully hard and leaking in his briefs, his knees throbbing when he shifts his weight for the first time in too long.

Regulus finally lets go of his length, gripping James’ slick chin instead. He swipes his thumb through the cum on James’ lip, his cheek. Collects what he can from his face, and dips a little into James’ waiting mouth to wipe it off onto his tongue a few times. Gathering as much as he can for him.

Finally, Regulus tells him, “Swallow, baby.”

James does without hesitation, moaning at the familiar taste down his throat. There’s still cum on his glasses, blurrily obscuring his view of Regulus on the one side when he blinks heavy lidded eyes up at him.

“You did so good, James.” The praise has James’ lips curling in a lopsided smile, dazed in the best way. He hums his thanks, throat too sore for immediate words, but Regulus doesn’t demand that of him this time. “Do you feel better?”

It’s a mockery of a bobble head on a dashboard when James nods hurriedly in answer. His head’s a little fuzzy still, breath slowly returning to normal for himself. A different high entirely for his comedown.

“Come on.” Regulus bends down to help James to his feet then reaches behind him to undo the tie from his wrists. “We should clean you up, you’re a mess.”

“Good,” James replies, voice rough, lazy grin widening.

Regulus rolls his eyes, but there’s no denying the affection in his gaze. He rubs at James’ wrists when his hands are brought between them and James hums quietly.

“I’ll take care of you in the shower, okay?” He murmurs, eyes darting downward.

“Y’already did, baby,” James points out.

Regulus lifts a brow. “Sorry, did you not also feel like coming tonight?”

James clears his throat in order to more clearly joke, “I think if you so much as breathed on my cock right now it’d probably be over for me.”

Shaking his head, Regulus snorts, muttering a fond ‘idiot’ beneath his breath. He leans in to press a kiss to James’ cheek, recoiling when James turns his head and nuzzles into the side of his neck, smearing leftover drool on his skin.

“Go. Bathroom, now.” Regulus points to the open bedroom door, but the control in his voice is gone; it’s half a laugh —blushing and breathless and beautiful.

James smiles adoringly at him, gives him a mock salute, and follows his instruction just the same.

#jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #jegulus fanfiction #drops this in the dead of night and runs #-jazz hands-#had a brain itch for a “silly little smut moment” and here we are. 2K words later #s/o to nic and us talking about being deeply unserious while writing smut #i wrote this entirely on my phone while wrapped in a blanket burrito so…#have fun! (james certainly did lmfao)#kay’s writing #kay’s microfics #<-simply just not a microfic anymore but oh well #nic tag<3

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