#But it is as they say - if it quacks like a duck - it's a fucking duck!

[diabolocracy]

This is going to live rent free in my head until I get it out, so:

Hell yeah I'm a fucking degenerate.

Here's some backstory about this - actually quite shitty - word.

The Definition as per the Eugenics Encyclopedia. It features such wondrous bangers as, "based on the premise that certain (lower) social classes and races were predisposed to various neurological and mental illnesses due to bad heredity, resulting in social degradation, ... it attributed general conditions such as mental instability and poor health to certain types of behaviours, such as having an 'immoral lifestyle.'"

Heeey, that (and the rest) sounds kind of racist and ableist and all kinds of other -ists commonly attributed to nazis and far-right goons...

The etymology of the word degeneration. "loss or impairment of the qualities proper to the race or kind," also figurative, "descent to an inferior state," from French dégéneration (15c.) or directly from Late Latin degenerationem (nominative degeneratio), noun of action from past-participle stem of Latin degenerare "to be inferior to one's ancestors, to become unlike one's race or kind, fall from ancestral quality," used of physical as well as moral qualities, from phrase de genere, from de "down from, away from" (see de-) + genus (genitive generis) "birth, descent" (from PIE root *gene- "give birth, beget").

... Wowie!

Actually... Let's just cut to the chase, huh?

Nazi Terminology A German cardinal has triggered a storm of criticism in Germany by describing atheist art as "degenerate" -- a term usually avoided in public discourse because of its association with the Nazis.

Fancy that.

Nazis (and the far-right and their various ilk) hate those that they declare degenerates.

So maybe, just maybe, being a degenerate is a fucking good thing. If you're pissing off a nazi, you're doing something right!

And maybe... Just maybe... If you don't want to be lumped in with them, you should keep in mind where the words you utilize and apply to those you hate, happen to come from!

Oh, also the word "groomer" when applied flagrantly to those you don't like is also a fascist tactic.

As is pedojacketing and "think of the children" rhetoric in general, really -- fascist and authoritarian.

You see it from the alt-right and nazi-types all the fucking time unless you're blind as shit.

If you purport to be a libby yet utilize the terminology of your political opponent when it's convenient against people you don't like unironically (especially of those people happen to be the same people your opponent doesn't like)--well, it is as they say: scratch a liberal and a fascist bleeds.

Those claiming to be leftists have no excuse other than, hey, maybe you aren't as left as you claim to be. Maybe you're just another libby.

[blusical]

ngl gossip blogs are probably the worst thing about hockeyblr

[duckduckngoose]

Session 0 of new DND group complete,,,, taking 10 hour nap now goodnight

[queerofthedagger]

maybe that's just me being me but i think it's..... interesting, how much criticism/accusations/et al of the OTW recently is coming up so conveniently in that period between donation drive and election, argues so utterly in bad faith, and employs such a strong 'us vs them' rhetoric that is frankly baffling if it is actually coming from people who 1. have a basic understanding of the OTW's flat hierarchies and what that means for the workings of such a big org, and 2. have the orgs best interest and future in mind. none of this is to say that the OTW doesn't have its issues or room to improve, but you'd think that amidst the quick rise of fascism, purity culture, and their calls for censorship, people would take care not to present the bandwagon to those people on a silver platter, and also maybe........ bother 0.3 seconds to provide those annoying little shits called verifiable sources :))

[auteurdefeu]

Lucifer throws rubber ducks at Alastor to shut him up.

It actually worked for the first few times too, because it was so random that it caught him off guard, as very few things do. With his large collection and how very few of his creations he was actually proud of, Lucifer had a lot of ammunition. He wasn’t about to embarrass himself by scrambling to get them back afterwards, but he did wonder what happened to them. Incinerated, he would guess.

But no, Alastor likes entertainment, and after he got over the fact the literal King of Hell’s best line of defense was rubber ducks, he was very entertained by the little things. There was a growing collection in his radio tower, and he had learned quickly that there was more to them than met the eye. He’d been quite displeased when one had left his coat singed from spitting fire, but despite all their tricks, none were particularly harmful.

Alastor hadn’t been sure where these ducks were coming from, but after plucking one off the floor that had a remarkable resemblance to the Radio Demon himself, he was beginning to suspect they weren’t exactly off the shelf. And wasn’t that a thought, the devil himself spending hours meticulously crafting toys. Even more so interesting that he spent some of that time making one of a demon he hated so much. But he keeps them all the same.

Chucking them at Alastor’s head becomes a whole lot less effective at getting him to shut the fuck up after a while. That didn’t stop Lucifer from wanting to throw things at him, and it wasn’t destructive to the hotel in the process. Probably not a bad thing, to be clearing out his room of so many ducks. And if a certain gothic tower is now full of them instead, well… who’s to say.

*quack quack* I’m losing my mind, can you tell

[sunsetsimon]

farmer simon riley ♡

simon 'ghost' riley x reader

this is very self indulgent sorry not sorry! pt 2. boyfriend simon nsfw will be out tomorrow!

─────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───────

☼ he wakes up at the crack of dawn every morning, kissing your forehead before he starts his routine. rinsing his face, shaving if he needs to, brushing his teeth, the usual. simon doesn’t listen to much music when he’s alone, but the silence grounds him, a reminder that this is his life now. he does a lot of reflecting, sitting on the porch and drifting off in his mind.

☼ as the sun comes up he gets to work, feeding the animals one by one. he talks to them and names them. he acts annoyed when the ducks follow him, quacking at him for him to hurry up and give them their feed. “god dammit, fucking ducks back up!” he grunts, kicking his leg out to keep them back as he fills the bucket.

he makes his round to each animal, giving them a pat and checking that they have everything they need before leaving. by the time he makes his way back to the house, he can tell you're up. the curtains are drawn and the front door is propped open, letting in the fresh morning air. he knows he'll find you in the back garden with a wicker basket on your arm, trying to decide what to make for breakfast.

"how about omelettes this morning, love? somethin' simple, wanna spend some time with you," he says, pulling your back against him, his fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt and caressing your skin.

☼ always drives you into town when you want to go. he’s like your personal body guard, so unless you tell him otherwise, he expects to be next to you the entire time. spoils you so much too, letting you buy whatever you want without a fuss, he has the money for it.

☼ he buys whole cow from one of his cattle friends and learns to cook different recipes with the meat. simon definitely becomes one of those ‘griller guys’ who finds any excuse to grill or smoke meat. he has a lot of fun with it, trying out new recipes and techniques to see which produces the best results. he loves cooking together with you, thinks you look so cute in your “kiss the chef” apron he got you.

☼ having the boys or your friends over for meals. ghost is anything but a socialite, but he does have the boys over a few times a year for a small cookout. you get so excited every time, ready to hear all the stories soap and gaz talk about, even though they definitely shouldn’t be sharing the information. they try to keep it lighthearted, making positive memories with each other outside of work is rare. he never says it, but simon has a good time whenever they come.

☼ indulges in a lot of hobbies. shooting, wood working, gardening and more. he has to do something to occupy his time now. there’s a small building on your property that he renovated into his work room. tools cover the walls, and his projects sit on the tables until he finishes them. he spends the nights he can’t sleep in there, distracting himself with work so that he doesn’t think about the things that haunt him. you wake up to an empty bed in the middle of the night and look out the window, seeing the lights on in the distant building. sighing, you roll out of bed and put on your fuzzy robe that he got you for winter.

you open the large door, revealing simon sitting at one of his tables, his gun taken apart and splayed across it. “si, it’s 2 in the morning, come to bed,” you say, walking over and softly petting the hair on the back of his neck.

“i will soon, just gotta finish this.” you frown at him, giving him a knowing look that he doesn’t actually plan on being done soon. unmoving from your spot, he sighs and wipes off his hands, throwing the towel down. “okay, ‘m coming.” his hand reaches under the table, grabbing a 2nd gun and tucking it into the holster in his pants.

you roll your eyes, “my god.. do you just have those everywhere?”

“yes.”

☼ homegrown flower bouquets during the spring and summer, simon makes it a point to make you a fresh one every week. he cuts the stems and puts it in a vase for you, leaving it on the kitchen counter for you to see when you come down. he does everything he can to make you feel special because you’re the light of his life. sometimes he builds you things too! making mental notes whenever you talk about wanting something, he spends night after night in his workroom to make it perfect for you.

☼ loves sitting on your porch and watching the sun set with you. after dinner, he’ll pull you out onto the porch, sitting next to you with a glass of whiskey. simon doesn’t say anything, just staring off and enjoying your presence. you can feel his eyes on you occasionally, watching as the sun casts it’s oranges, pinks, and reds across your face. you look so beautiful and peaceful here.

☼ never expected this to be his life but he’s happy with the way it is. he can never get too bored though, always needing to do something. the winters can be tough on him mentally as there’s less to do in the cold, so he picks up reading and is constantly finishing projects around the house. he just wants you to be safe and by his side, forever.

[tgcg]

ill break your shit adam

warning for adult lang

fuck you adam sandler

youre lucky karkat likes you

stupid fuck sees an amnesiac girl

and asks her can i marry you

that lady got issues mentally

you still down to do shit anally

deplorable zit on the ass of romanza

karkat told me to put that shit in this stanza

do raps even count as having stanzas

slam poetry tyke at preschool im no manza

youd probably jack it to a log with holes if they were wet ones

sitting on that stupid dock with her papa cracking cold ones

piece of shit id push you off that dock and watch you bubbling

kick your ass like her shitty bro failed when you were troubling

penguins dont quack like fucking ducks you dumbass

thats not part of the rap i just think that youre a dumbass

back to the rap sandler i bet you couldnt drop a single bar

too busy picking up stupid women at the stupid women bar

who even let you into hawaii

also did i say karkat liked you i was kidding he wants to kick your heinie

seriously watching that shit again made him start slamming his head into the cushions and screaming i had to pry them out his hands and he almost bit me

sorry i forgot i was rapping again

piece of shit forgot that you can like women while dating other men

still not over that chuck and larry shit adam

if you just said to the gov you were bi you coulda had em

firefighter of the year? well try putting out this heat

karkats gonna beat your ass like you do every night to your meat

gotta ask is this shit wish fulfilment for you

gotta say larry deserved better than you

i could treat him way better than you not in a gay way though

i just mean youre a massive sleaze basically the worlds shittiest bro

back to 50 first dates man sandler your shit is a bore

the stupid bits with schneider got my ass addicted to snore

if i was that stupid walrus id tear your ass to shreds

if i was that penguin i would also tear your ass to shreds

itd be harder but id still do it

bro fuck adam sandler im through it

===

TT: Wow. Bravo, Dave. You've outdone yourself.

TG: i wrote this one exceptionally fucking terrible to represent my inner darkness

TG: i can never unwatch those cinematic fossilized turds theyre like time capsules devoted to everything wrong with america

TG: you dont even understand how egregious that was

TT: I can sense the utter malaise and contempt in every word. It's beautiful.

TT: One particularly interesting point I'd like to make is the fact that you managed to refer to butts in a song about a male target, 10 times in the span of 37 lines. It's not an exorbitant amount, but it appears to be a running theme in your works. Very interesting, if you ask me --

TG: nooooo

TG: nope no

TG: not this shit again

TG: listen one of them is karkats fault

===

CG: ROSE, YOU JUST DON'T FUCKING UNDERSTAND WHAT HE'S DOING HERE AT ALL.

TT: No? Please, enlighten me Karkat.

CG: GLADLY.

CG: HE STARTS OUT WITH THE FRIGGIN WORD "ANAL" PRECEDING ALL OF THE OTHER MENTIONS, OF COURSE IT'S ON PURPOSE. IT INSTILLS THAT IMAGERY IN YOUR NUGBONE THROUGHOUT THE TRACK.

CG: AND YOU MAY HAVE NOTICED A RECURRING USE OF THE WORD "SHIT", IN TANDEM. BOG-STANDARD FOR DAVE, RIGHT? NO! IT'S PART OF THE EFFECT!

CG: MY THESIS: ADAM SANDLER MOVIES ARE PIECES OF ABSOLUTE SHIT AND THE REFERENCES TO WORDS LIKE "LOG" AND "SHIT" AND "ASS" ARE TO INVOKE THE SENSE OF TAKING A MASSIVE DUMP THROUGHOUT THE SPAN OF THE RAP, WHICH BY ALL MEANS WOULD BE AN EQUAL OR GREATER USE OF YOUR TIME THAN WATCHING THOSE MOVIES.

CG: RIGHT, DAVE?

TG: … yeah

TT: Okay, I'm willing to concede to that. On this subject matter, as an avid terrible movie enjoyer, you admittedly know better than myself.

CG: SHOULD KNOW BETTER.

TT: And you love them anyways.

CG: YEAH.

TG: hes right

TG: you hear that shit hes right

TG: fuck death of the author im verifying that interpretation

[dilatorywriting]

59 Leona, it'd take a lot for him to admit but he would say it eventually. (Also I know you'd recognize me but I'm shy, so anon it is)

Gender Neutral Reader x Leona Kingscholar Word Count: 1.5k

Prompt 59: "People like me aren’t supposed to have someone like you, I think fate was being harsh on you."

[EVENT MASTERLIST]

You are nice, and you are stupid. And those things aren’t mutually exclusive.

Sometimes you’re nice because you’re stupid, and sometimes you do stupid things because you’re too nice for your own stupid, stupid good. And it drives Leona half insane.

Which it shouldn’t, because nice, stupid people like you are just as annoying as his brother. Goody-two-shoes with buttoned vests and sparkly, star-shaped stickers on their term papers.

“Did you remember your homework?”

Leona flicked his tail in your face and you scrunched your nose over your notebook.

“Well?”

“Of course I remembered,” he scoffed, lazing back against the roots of one of his favorite trees. This spot used to be so much quieter, so much more peaceful, before you decided to trail after him like a duck quacking for its mother.

“Did you do the homework?” you clarified, and Leona rolled his eyes.

You sighed and starting ruffling around in your bookbag. “I brought a spare copy of the worksheet. You’re going to drive Ruggie insane, y’know. If he winds up stuck with you for another year because you failed for not turning in assignments.”

“Yeah. Sure. Another three-hundred-and-sixty-five days to rifle through my wallet. Worst news of his life.”

You huffed good naturedly and handed him the sheet of crisp, white copy paper and a pen. “Get to work, Kingscholar.”

“Oh?” he drawled, closing his eyes and settling back, loose limbed and all long, lean leisure, against the tree trunk. Clearly ready for an afternoon snooze. “Make me.”

You sighed again and reached over to flick your own well-used pen against his ear. It twitched under your fingers—soft, and tufted. The finest of the pale, tan fur brushing up against your fingertips. “Fine. Be that way. See if I bring you lunch tomorrow.”

“You will,” he scoffed.

“Yeah,” you sighed, sounding resigned and foolishly fond. “I probably will.”

See? Stupid. So easy to manipulate. So willing to let yourself be squashed under his clawed thumb. It was a wonder you’d managed to survive in this school at all. Nevertheless by clinging onto the coattails of someone like him. He’d never made anyone’s existence easier a day in his life, and he certainly wasn’t going to start now, just because you were too soft-hearted and slow to see a looming predator for what it was.

“Just give me that stupid fucking paper,” he snapped, sitting upright and swatting away your poking pen with a sneer. You laughed into your palms like a secret—bright, and merry, and dumb as a fucking rock.

“Whatever you say, Leona.”

.

.

You’d handled his Overblot with a strange sort of aplomb that at first Leona had attributed to perhaps a lingering, hidden confidence that he’d just never bothered to unearth. You were just some herbivore, and even the littlest rabbits could bite back when you put them in a corner. But then he’d come to the decision that that easy conviction was just another symptom of your rampant stupidity.

“I know you guys don’t want to hurt me, or any of us. Not really,” you shrugged around a wad of cotton—the blood dripping from your nose slowly drying up to a tacky, sticky dribble. Leona gaped at you outright.

That was your grand explanation. For why you’d been so eager to charge forward when he’d collapsed in a pool of inky nightmares and self-loathing. And the very same reason apparently thatyou’d felt so comfortable rushing forward to treat Azul Ashengrotto’s blubbering, hysterical, breakdown with the same urgency.

“That octo-prick would have ripped you in half,” he sneered, fingers twitching a nervous rhythm against his palms as he watched the nurse wrap another layer or bandages around your head.

You shrugged. “Not on purpose.”

You were going to give him an aneurism.

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” he snarled, ignoring the horrible, twisty thing curling like bile through his chest. “And I’m not going to bother paying for some self-sacrificing idiot’s funeral.”

Another shrug.

“That’s alright,” you hummed, a soft sort of crooked smile on your mouth. “Would’ve been a waste of money anyways.”

Leona didn’t talk to you for a week after that. Surely because your stupidity had reached such a fever pitch that it was no doubt contagious, and he needed to protect his far superior and more valuable brain. Not because the image of you smiling and nodding along to his declarations that he wouldn’t put the effort into mourning your death had soured something so deep in his gut that he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to scrape it out.

.

.

When he received a letter from home asking him to return for some shitty coronation nonsense for his equally shitty brother, Leona had debated just skipping it outright. Who was going to stop him? You?

Well. Yes, apparently.

“It sounds important,” you hummed, peering over his shoulder at the neat, formal scrawl of the summons. “You should go.”

He snorted. “I don’t want to be there, they don’t want me to be there. What’s the point.”

You frowned, brow crinkling in the middle.

“Well, that’s not true,” you said, perplexed. “They wouldn’t write to you if that was the case.”

Leona snorted, eyes darting away to glare bitterly off into the corner. “Not like they have a choice.”

“Well then you don’t have a choice either,” you argued, firm. “I’ll go with you. See? It says you can have a plus one. You can camp out in your fancy, princey, bedroom. And I can siphon you snacks from the fancy, princey hors d'oeuvres tables. That way we both win. You get to be a reclusive asshole and rub the fact that that you still went in everyone’s faces, and I can get access to some tasty, royal food that I’ll probably never be able to afford again for the rest of my life.”

“Should’ve known you’d be like Ruggie—only using me for the free food,” he sighed, melodramatic and obviously put on.

“Well, also because I thought you could use the emotional support,” you added, a touch too soft and far too genuine. “But I didn’t think you wanted to hear that bit.”

“You’re right,” he scoffed, turning onto his side to hide the strange, miserable heat pricking at his skin. “Don’t ever say corny shit like that again.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” you grinned, flicking at his ear, and Leona added another mental tab to his never-ending list of reasons that you were really far too brainless to keep functioning at all.

.

.

You were nice, and you were stupid. And Seven, he wanted to be anywhere but here.

“My brother hasn’t ever brought someone to one of these events before,” Falena had said, to your face. Idiot to idiot communication.  

“I didn’t give him much of an option,” you’d chirped, perfectly pleasant. “I don’t think he wants me anywhere near here, to be fair. Or around him in general. But I’m like a cockroach. Can’t get rid of me.”

And Falena had laughed. Because he was terrible. And said, “I’m sure he must care about you very much, little cockroach.”

And then because you were more terrible, you laughed back and said very assuredly, “Oh, not at all.”

Which was—was—

“Do you really think that?” he snapped, once the two of you were alone. And you blinked back at him with wide, owlish eyes.

“Think what?”

Think at all,he wanted to sneer, but just glared silently and bitterly into the middle distance—fighting the nonsensical, irritated swishing of his tail.

But you just kept staring at him. Like he was the moron here. Which was unacceptable.

“Look,” he frowned, sharp and miserable. “I get it. People like me aren’t supposed to have someone like you. Whatever gods exist out there were playing a shitty fucking joke on you when they dropped you in my lap. But you’re stuck with me. So stop—” he bit out, fighting that awful, twisty thing in his gut that never seemed to fully go away. “Stop talking like I can’t stand you.”

“…oh,” you mumbled, whisper quiet—that wide, startled gaze flicking away in embarrassment. “Oh.”

“Oh,” he echoed, sharp, and you snorted a laugh that seemed to surprise even you.

“You’re stuck with me too then, y’know,” you said after a long moment. “Even when I make you grumpy.”

“You don’t make me grumpy. I am grumpy. You make me—” he cut off quick, eyes darting away petulantly and an absolutely unfair heat rising along his cheekbones.  

“Itchy,” you piped in, and he gaped at you in shock.

“What?”

“You know,” you shrugged, awkward, and reached up to wiggle your fingers. “Cockroach. Many legs. Squirming. Itchy.”

“Never say any of those words again.”

You laughed into your palm—inelegant and a touch too loud. Leona felt his lips quirk.

“Thank you,” you said after a moment, once your giggles were a bit more under control. And leaned forward quick as a whip to press a nervous peck against his cheek. “For being kind to me.”

Kind.

Leona reached up to press a hand against the too-warm skin with a terrible, unfamiliar sensation in his head not unlike the fuzzy, white drone of TV static. And a horrible thought managed to filter its way through the floating, buzzing sensation curling through the whole of him.

Oh, fuck. It is contagious.

.

.

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Wife: The Duck Dilemma, Resolved

Joel Miller x F! Reader

not necessary to read but here's Part 1

Summary: Joel explores new ways to get the Ducks out of the Miller house once and for all

- - - -

When Joel wakes up, there's a blurred yellow fuzz thing—a fucking duck—standing on his chest, staring down its brown and yellow stained bill right along his own snout and directly into his soul.

"Dinner," he grunts with a sneer.

The little duckie utters an unbothered quack and hops off to the side. If only to its death over the cliff of his bedside edge. Only not so, for Sarah, who's standing by his side of the bed, scoops her up safely in her careful grasp. She leans on her tip toes and kisses Daddy on the cheek, and then holds the duck expectedly to his face with her big beady round baby eyes.

He grits his teeth, his chest grumbling with contained annoyance. 

His daughter, the light of his fucking life, only leans closer to him, Duckie held high with expectant gleam. Letting out a quick sigh, he makes quick work to peck its fluffy little self on the forehead. 

And one by one, he does so for all 6 ducklings she raises up to his lips carefully. He’s kissed more duck heads than he’s ever wanted to in his whole life now. 

She sets the last one down on the floor and walks away, a trail of 6 duckies following her with their aide to side waddles.

How she and you came up with the names Eenie Meenie Miney, Pickles, Pringles, and Presto, he will never ask. They all look exactly the same but somehow Sarah can tell them apart. 

Although, Sarah has called them EE, MEE, My, Picole, Pingle, Pwesto.

God Bless her.

“This one is Pringles—no wait that’s… that’s uh. Eenie? Wait Meenie?” You’re holding three in your arms, lifting them closely, trying to find the identifiable marks you’ve used as cheat sheet to remember them. Failing miserably. 

“Pwesto!” Sarah clarifies, stomping her foot and taking her baby duck back into her arms. They always nibble at her ear lobes, causing the little child to erupt into giggles.

“She’s making it up, I swear. She doesn’t know which ones are which…” you whisper to Joel.

“Just admit you can’t keep track of your hoard of children you keep bringing into this house.”

You frown. “I want 12 more kids from you. So lift your skirt and get to baby stuffing,” you say snakily, slapping his ass.

He sips his coffee with massive bags under his eyes as two ducks sit on top of the stove.

Some thoughts, albeit as brilliant as they are, would get him sent straight to hell. Like the one swimming in his brain at the opportunity right now.

He glances to the left, then right, then slowly reaches for the gas igniting knob along the stove top. Directly below the unsuspecting ducklings…

Threatening growls come from the floor below. He rolls his eyes and backs off with his hand in the air to show retreat, as fearsome Mommy number 2 (3?) Spoon here comes to save the day.

“Ya used to be on my side, lady,” he hums to the dog.

And it’s true. Spoon didn’t know how to react at first. She went from single pet baby sitting a little girl to being swarmed by 6 freaky little two footed flap flaps, the weirdest looking puppies she’s ever seen. When they crowded and yapped incessantly around her, she kept picking her feet up and backing up to avoid them, but they all just kept coming at all angles all over. At one point from sheer curiosity, she hesitantly puts one in her mouth.

 Sarah screamed at the top of her lungs and pointed to Spoon accusingly.

 "Yes good Spoon! That's good girl!" Joel claps quietly. He knows you two wouldn’t blame innocent Spoon if she accidentally ate a duck or half dozen. 

Unfortunately, Spoon does not like the sensation of the duck eating out her extra snack crumbs sitting in her teeth, instantly spitting the little guy out like a bowling ball. She jumps on the couch to avoid the rest, and they all flail helplessly trying to reach her. 

By the next day, Joel prayed maybe Spoon decided she wanted a late night duck-goulash and had swallowed his 6 new problems. Instead, you found the ducks nested tightly against Spoon’s body, sleeping into her heated belly like her own little babies.   "Cmon girl not you too,” Joel says, but Spoon growls at him  when he tries to take them away. She doesn't mind when they yap and tap, just lies down with them peddling all over her body and head, sighing in defeat.

"Did we just make Spoon a mom of 6 overnight?”

 Duck Duty has taken over the house 24/7. 

When Joel goes to the shower, pulling back the curtain, there's duckies paddling in the tub.

He has to empty his shoes before stepping in them because, lo and behold, a damn duck is in there.

There’s more frozen pea bags in the freezer specifically labeled for each duck than he can fit his pizza pockets in there.

“THATS IT!” He barks loudly when you and Sarah are tucking the ducks in his bed sheets for a movie night.

You all, including Spoon and all the duckies, go quiet and look up. 

Except, instead of finishing a statement, that is it. Joel storms out of the room the next moment, leaving you all sitting speechless.

Two seconds later you turn on the TV and all eyes focus on the screen to resume your movie night like normal.

-

Joel disappears in the garage for 3 days. You called Tommy asking if he was going to work, but Tommy told you he had called to let everyone know he would be unattainable for the weekend. Absolutely NO ONE was to disturb him. You could hear sparks and saw blades flying in the garage, heavy banging and all kinds of construction going on. Maybe you should be a little concerned. He hasn’t done anything else but this. 

You rub your hands together, braving the knock on the garage door. Maybe you had gone too far with the ducks. Was he preparing to build himself a new house to live away from you all? A death trap for the ducks to fall into?

A new wife???

You tighten your ass cheeks and raise your knuckles.

The door swings open before you can pound. A sweaty, dirty, musky, saw dust covered Joel Miller, with messy slick hair, flannel and low hanging jeans complete with his decades old tool belt greeted you with gritted teeth.

“S’done,” he says plainly.

“W-what’s done?”

He takes your hand and leads you out. “Sarah! Ducks! Fall in!”

Sarah hops off her chair that she was braiding her doll’s hair. As she follows behind you, all 6 quickly growing Duckies  follow behind her like a pre-school hand holding chain.

You all round out the now empty garage and towards the backyard gate. He opens it and shoves forward.

Part of the backyard and side of the house has been transformed into a Duck Oasis Paradise. A custom built duck house with heating lamps, fresh bedding and smoothed wood adorn the area, with a water fountain and splash pad of fresh water constantly rippling their own little Duckie pond/pool. Each duck has its own feeding station, and even custom bed slots with “Eenie, Meenie, Miney, Pickles, Pringles, Presto” hand painted for their own bunks. There’s a raised mini bed for Sarah to lie in with a canopy so they can cuddle and watch projector movies outside. Joel had even installed a side door that leads into the garage if absolutely need be they MUST come inside once again. Everything is painted to Sarah’s princess house liking, and she is able to sit inside the and play around the area while it maintains its Duck-necessities.

As if she had just met the real Santa Clause, Sarah screeches excitedly and runs around with the ducks to explore their new home.

Joel’s hands are on his hips, smirking proudly at your reaction.

Your mouth is on the floor. When the FUCK?? HOW the fuck??

“You thought I was gonna cook em’ didn’t ya?” He boasts.

“I —wushhshh pshhh—N--ta—nmmm-pshhh.” You don’t have words to try to deny it. 

“Ah huh.” He points to his cheek … well, cheekily. “C’mere and give it ta me.”

Inserted, you grip his face, turn him to face you, and plant your entire mouth on his, swallowing his lips and his entire body if you could.

He grins and kisses you back. 

“When are you going to put this much effort into putting another baby in me?” You tease while curling his hair.

He’s left quite shocked, and is about to suggest the two of you stow away while the kids are occupied until—

Sarah runs up like she’s about to pole vault and launches herself into her Dad’s arms for the biggest hug a todler can muster. Joel bends down to his knees to return her kisses.

And that would have been it, were it not for the duck that’s immediately in her hands, held right to his cheek.

“Ugh,” he groans with rolled eyes. He holds it all in as Sarah lifts them to nibble at his beard stubble in a duck fashioned kiss, each getting a turn to clean his facial hair.

You clasp your hands together, beaming at possibly the greatest man the earth had ever put out.

She runs off with the ducks following to go play with their new land.

“2 adults. 1 kid. 1 dot. And 6 ducks…” he says, referring back to your previous comment. “That ain’t enough for ya?”

“12.”

“12…?” Were you serious about 12 kids????

“Ducks,” you state plainly, avoiding his eyes.

“Wh—what, are they all pregnant?” He asks incredulously.

“No…” you lock your fingers together, sealing side to side in the way Sarah does when she’s admitting to doing something horribly wrong. “I thought you were going to eat these ones… and I didn’t want Sarah to be sad and so I … maybe… it’s actually really funny, Joel.”

“YOU BOUGHT—SIX—MORE—DUCKS???”

“Ohh oh no!” You shake your head, as if hoping to dissipate the steam billowing from his ears. Though it’s almost like he knows it’s not any better. “Um… it’s way worse… I bought 12 more ducks. So that’s 18 total,” you smile widely with fearful yet innocent eyes.

Joel sits straight up in bed, his heart hammering and sweat persperating along his entire skeleton.  He clutches his heart, remembering to breathe in the night air, grounding himself in his surroundings from the nightmare. You’re sound asleep at his side, peaceful as ever.

He tosses the blanket and darts off to Sarah’s room. His girl sleeps just as innocently as you, with her teddy clutched under her arm. Lying atop her fuzzy pink decorative rug is Spoon, who raises her head curiously at the intrusion. He does a quick search, but nothing else moves in the room.

Joel runs to the backyard, foregoing any shoes. Despite no evidence in the house, he doesn’t get his hopes too high. He flips on the lights of the duck barn (which was not a dream), and braceshimself.

While he would have liked to have seen 0 flat footed peddling little yellow shits, a mere 6, and ONLY 6, ducks rest in their designated bed, tilting their head at him staring them down.

He wipes the sweat from his forehead and takes a relieving breath.

“Thank fucking duck.”

- - - -

Taglist : @harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @peekyourinterest

[hoarder-of-dragons]

[Meanwhile Back on Earth] Crowley, drunk : I mean, I thought I did everything right. He was certainly giving hints yesterday but if i wasn't distracted by the demons trying to fucking attack the bookshop I would've been more receptive. And why did he leave for Heaven when he knows he can't the change its's bureaucracy! And to leave me here and say he forgives me like the bastard he is well I ought to....I ought to...What should I do? The Ducks: ..quack? Crowley, still drunk: THAT'S WHAT I'M SAYING

[deadghosy]

"Have you always been so damn ugly?"

"Hahaha...Fuck you."

PLATONIC ALASTOR X GN!READER

Warning: bit of a small oc.

YOU SIGHED LAYING on your bed tired like always as your counterpart, Neno is beside you purring. His black shadowy body hold you as you face the ceiling. It's not like you are a depressed person who has no social energy battery and stay in your room not wanting to talk to people. Of course you totally aren't like that...

You heard a static noise outside your door, you narrow your eyes seeing a red glow outside your door. "What the fuck..." you say to yourself seeing the glow. Neno opens his white glowing eyes as he lets go of your body and moves swiftly to the door. It seems like he know who it is as you get off your bed and open the door.  And there he is, the radio demon who smiles down at you.

"Why hello my shadowy fellow/madam!" He says entering your room as you tried to protest him entering. "Well this won't do!" He pulls open your curtain windows to let the light in. Neno hisses going into your shadow as your eyebags show. Alastor smiles that shit eating grin as he sits on your bed. "Well? Why don't you sit down my dear friend, we got things to discuss!" You just stand there side eyeing him.

"Have you always been so damn ugly?" Is what you said that came into your mind.

"Hahaha...Fuck you." Alastor says staring at you waving got you to sit with him.

No way in hell are you talking to the radio demon.

—

AND HERE YOU are ranting about how shitty your morning went about how you felt like shit and how you felt no motivation or feelings at all. Alastor just stares and nod with a smile listening to you. You don't even know why you are actually venting to him about. Sometimes with yourself, you have these weird feelings where you can't feel anything but you aren't depressed. You just can't understand some things really.

Alastor stops you from going into deep context as he smiles thinking of something. "Why don't we go for a walk my dear friend!" He says enthusiastic. You just stare at him with a blank stare...."I'm not your frie-" Alastor snaps his fingers as he has you in an outfit that seems a bit old timey. Kinda seems off the way you dressed back in the 2000's but you liked the color palette it has.

Your hair looked better as you smile looking at Neno who gave you a thumbs up with Alastor and his own shadow counterpart. "Okay! Not bad old man." "I am not an old man" he says with a slight twitch in his eye. "Whatever man" you say chuckling softly at him. Next thing you know you go picked up onto alastor's shoulder with a blank confused face as he takes you out your room.

"Now let's go on an adventure. Can't let you rot in your room like some kind of corpse dear!"

—

YOU "WALKED" around pentagram city still on alastor's shoulder as he hums a tune while you just sat there in his shoulder like a little kid leaving sea world/ Disney world with their father.

"Where are we even going Alastor...."

"Somewhere~" he said in a song tune way.

You just sighed as he wasn't even giving you a straight answer. You felt a "bling" in your pocket. That must be your hell phone. You looked at it to see the contact, "BIG BOSS🔥" calling you. You answer him hearing a bunch of quacks and tools hitting the ground.

"Heyyyyy....ducklinggg" you heard Lucifer says awkwardly. "Hello. Sir." You said flatly. Lucifer's silly smile faltered hearing your flat tone as he sighs.

"Listen I'm sorry I didn't order you right the things for you. I was busy." You heard another quack and a squeak.

"Busy making a doll house for your ducks?"

".....low blow but I can send you your favorite pastry!" He says excitedly on his end of the phone.

You stayed quiet this time but smile showing your sharp teeth, "sure man. I'll forgive you." "FANTASTIC! I'll see you in 2 hours!"

"Wait wh-" and the phone hang up.

Why the hell he said he was gonna order them to you, but come in person...

—

NOW YOU WERE confused even more as you reach a part of town you didn't even know. Alastor smiles as you see demons with black eyes like those were cartoons you use to watch back then. But the town seems lovely and lively as you see a person giving out cotton candy.

Your eyes light up, catching the taller male's attention as he smirks turning his walking direction to the cotton candy stand.

"Hello mister, I would like one cotton candy for the little lady/fellow on my beloved shoulder." Alastor said as you felt embarrassed by how some people watched you as you fidget with your fingers. The man nods with a sharp teethed smile and gave Alastor, who gives you your cotton candy.

You smile awkwardly taking the cotton candy from Alastor and ate it. You gotta admit it was tasty as fuck! The candy melted on your tongue and your eyes lit up like shimmering glitter in a summer sun. Alastor smile softly at you and turns to building while you eat. As Alastor enters you heard a ladies voice.

"Yeah, and I would eat my husband too!"

You turn to see a lady who is wearing an old timey fit and she is very tall, slender-built demon with pale gray skin, and a wide mouth full of sharp light pink teeth, black-colored lips and dusty-pink cheeks. Her eyes are pitch-black.

You always liked to look at people sometimes to observe, it's a weird habit of yours at times but you must admit this lady was beautiful.

"Oh Rosie dear!"

"Alastor hon!" The lady says cheery as she walks to Alastor and you. You hopped off of Alastor landing on Neno who held his hand for you to softly get on the ground. The two overlords hug as you finally noticed who she was. She was the one Alastor told you about sometimes.

"Oh and who is this cutie! Aw I could just eat you up!"

"Please don't." You said with an awkward smile as she pinches your cheek like a granny.

She chuckles putting a hand to her face, "oh don't worry, Alastor told me all about you and how such a dearie you are to him at times."

You raised a brow at that. "Really?" You looked at Alastor who seems to be ignoring your gaze as you just scrunched your face up in confusion.

"Why yes! You're the [animal/shadow] demon he was talking about!" She says as she cups her hands in your. Neno watches as he swirls around your body and playful nibbles on Rosie who chuckles. "And this much be your pet!" "Counter part actually.." Rosie had a surprised look as she looks into Neno's eyes which is pure white, opposite from Rosie's own eyes.

"Well isn't that swell..."

(I'm tired so I can't finish the part where you get to hang out with Lucifer again. My head ache and me being drowsy as shit isn't helping. Hope you enjoyed this)

[hippielittlemetalhead]

Never Took The Time (To Forget) part 5: Man Of The Hour

Life is mildly less sucky with depression being more managed (also the mood boost from Renaissance Faires 😁) and my weekends being free again for me to travel to see my person. Still full of dumpster fires but I want to scream about it less. Also, been in feels very similar to the ones that inspired this whole endeavor so... enjoy?

Anywho, here's part 5! Enjoy, my little nerdlings. As always, feel free to yell at/with me in the comments, tags, reblogs and/or ask box. If you see any mistakes feel free to message me about them. 😬👌

Part 1: Hop Fucks Up, Part 2: Pride and Prejudices (Joyce Edition), Part 3: One of Us, Part 4.1: With A Capital P, Part 4.2: Robin's Boy

Steve Harrington was an odd duck. That's what his grandmother always used to say. She would pat his already proudly coiffed hair as he hung off the arm of her rocking chair and tell him as much whenever his parents took him to visit. He would beam at her with his big (reportedly pinchable by every aunt and grandmother in the family) cheeks and quack at her before cracking up at himself like he told the funniest joke and she would let him laugh until he rolled himself off her armchair to the plush carpeted floor. She would laugh and reach way over the arm of her chair to poke his stomach or cheek or nose, sometimes just his little forehead, before leveraging herself up out of her chair and taking herself to the kitchen to boot his mother out of it. Steve Harrington was a certified 'odd duck'.

Steve isn't sure, as he sits in that old rocking chair he had stolen liberated from his parent's house when he moved into his new apartment, when he became whatever he is now. He slowly rocks himself back and forth, the chair creaking a little as his weight shifts. The kids and other teens are chattering on the walkie but it's nothing too pressing, just nonsense and junk food emergencies, Mike cursing out Hop. His ribs hurt and his nose is sore but it doesn't feel like anything is broken. It sucks he knows what broken feels like. It sucks that Robin is kind of mad at him for getting hurt enough Owens pulled rank and had him dropped off at home and assigned someone to be the Party's chauffer for the rest of the day. It sucks that all the kids have their own plans tonight, leaving him to try and find ways to keep himself distracted without their usual insanity. A lot of things just kind of suck these days.

He feels himself smiling and picks up the walkie to confirm that he was alive and resting like ordered when he hears Dustin bickering with Robin about invading his apartment to check on him. That doesn't suck he supposes. He knows Robin and the kids care and he knows that eventually the soldier tasked with driving his hellions around is going to be bullied into driving them to see him, other plans be damned and the thought makes him smile.

The smile drops when he hears what sounds like a soft knock at his door. It's too sharp to be Widow Bea two doors over who leans on her walker and kicks the bottom of his door with her soft leather slippers that belonged to her late husband when she needs him to fix a cabinet or mix batter for whatever pastry she was making that week. And it's not the distinct pattern of Clara Damon from down the hall who will come and tap at his door to ask if he has an extra cup of sugar or spoonful of flour as she bats her eyes at him simpering about how she's making cookies or a pie or a casserole of some kind and inviting him to dinner with her and her folks to have some. He's always got an empty pantry and a surplus of plans when Clara Damon comes knocking. He and Widow Bea have standing poker nights with the other older ladies who all meet at the recreation building.

(It used to be the Harrington house. But his parents decided to sell to prove a point when they up and kicked him out and Owens needed a place to set up a promised recreation space and the gym was already a relief supplies warehouse.)

But the knock at his door isn't either of those. It could be someone else in the building. Could be one of his neighbors who have started to associate Steve Harrington with fighting mutated wild dogs caused by government experiments gone wrong and hauling around kids who seemed to cheat death and holding I.O.Us signed by the U.S army instead of the absent Harrington socialites who are known for swanning into town, flaunting their wealth and making themselves scarce again. The ones who he can sometimes hear whispering about him as he makes his way down the street or through Melvald's.

The knocking comes again, louder this time and firmer. It could be a lot of things and he doesn't want to deal with any of them.

Steve sighs, it could be important. He gets up to answer the door, breathing slow and shallow and letting himself lean on walls as he makes his way to the door. A third round of knocking and he's starting to get tired of it. He takes a slightly painful breathe to call out to whoever is trying to knock down his door to calm themselves down when, "Hey kid, Harrington, you in there?" That stops him a foot from his door.

His ribs hurt and his nose is sore and his leg is throbbing where a demodog got a lucky swipe on the meat of his thigh. But nothing is broken. His leg will be fine in a day or two. He hates that he knows what broken feels like. He hates that he knows what infected feels like. He hates that he knows the stone in his stomach and the clenching vice around his lungs has nothing to do with his injuries. His ribs scream at him when he pulls himself as tall and straight backed as he can, shifting himself so his weight is on his good leg and he can (hopefully) use the hallway wall and doorframe to support himself long enough to talk to Hopper and send him on his way.

He opens the door with a smile and feels himself falter a little when he sees Hopper standing there in a big tan canvas jacket and baseball cap and he's reminded of the times the older man would show up on his parent's doorstep with the same look on his face asking questions Steve didn't always know how to answer.

"Hey, Hopper." His voice is light and smile wide and loose and he just needs to keep this up. "What brings you to my neck of the woods?"

"Heard you got a bit banged up on a patrol?"

Steve shrugs. It takes more than he'd like to hide the pain that causes. "Just a couple bumps and bruises, nothing I can't walk off after a decent night's sleep. Owens is just paranoid these days, ya know."

"Owens huh?"

"Uh, yeah? That's who told you right? Cause I took a couple hits?" Hopper doesn't say anything, just looks at him with something that Steve might have once thought was concern about his potential injuries. He doesn't know why today of all days Hop decided to show up cause he got knocked around a little more than planned but it doesn't bode well when something in his face shifts and he lets out a tired sigh. "Oh, but don't worry!" That came out louder than he intended. "I'm totally fine. Like I said, I just need to walk it off and I'll be back out there in no time. You don't gotta worry about a thing, I've got it handled. Like I said, Owens is just overreacting. Nancy can cover for me tomorrow and then I'll be right back on the roster I promise. You and Mrs. Byers don't have to worry about a thi-"

"Steve. Shut up." He feels his jaw snap shut, the edge of his tongue and inside of his cheek getting caught in his teeth. "I didn't hear it from Owens. The kids told me. Owens knows you're hurt?"

"Uh, ye-yes sir. He's the one who sent me home. Gave the kids a detail to transport them and keep them protected while I'm out of commision. One officer to drive them around and they're being tailed by at least 3 others in case anything happens."

"Four soldiers just to replace you?"

"Oh they're not in that much danger! I'm perfectly capable of watching them usually, its just that Owen's guys are still kinda green even this deep in. Most of them just can't wrap their heads around the whole 'other dimension stuck in 1983' side of things." Hop's eyebrows shoot up under the bill of his cap. "But again, it's fine! I always take point whenever we go into a new sector and those guys are good as backup at least."

"But you're hurt." His eyebrows have come back down but now they're furrowed like he's confused or upset.

"Just a little!" He is not making things better. "I swear Hopper, you guys don't have to worry about a thing. I've got it handled, you don't have to-"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Harrington! Just shut up!" Steve flinches back, stepping further into his doorway as Hopper yells. The older man sighs, a big hand coming up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. He tries not to think of the times Robin and the kids have made fun of him for doing the same, calling it one of his 'dad poses'. "Look, I didn't come to try and give you shit about getting knocked around a little being stupid and playing soldier. I came to- I was going to ask." He sighs and his shoulders slump a little forward and his eyes are focused on the toes of Steve's (very comfortable) bat slippers that had been a gift from Wayne once the kids had told him Steve had been the one to drag Eddie out of the Upside Down. "Did you want to come over for dinner?"

Steve doesn't think he heard him right. "What?"

"Joyce is making some sort of spaghetti casserole-"

"Isn't that just baked spaghetti?"

"And we wanted to have you over. We haven't talked much since I came back. I'd like to change that."

"What?"

"You, dinner, at our place? With me and Joyce and the kids? I think Jonathan is bringing Nancy." Steve flinches and Hop silently curses himself bringing up the ex who cheated on him and the guy she cheated with.

"Why?"

"Uuh... Talking?"

Ah, he had it now. "What did the kids do? Just, lay it on me man, and I'll take care of it. Did they say something? I can have them over tomorrow and talk to them. Was it Mike, it was probably Mike, I'll get him to apologize, just-"

"Goddamn it Harrington I just wanted to ask you over for some dumbass spaghetti casserole thing and a decent conversation. Maybe watch a football game cause no one else in that house seems to enjoy a good game."

Steve isn't sure what's happening. "You want me to come to dinner. To talk?"

Hop sighs again. "Yes, kid. Just. Dinner and talking."

"Uh huh. Right. I'm just- I just need a minute." He tries not to slam the door in the man's face but he's definitely trying to be as fast as possible. He's not sure what the hell is going on but it has to be something because Hopper wouldn't just invite him over. And Joyce Byers definitely wouldn't want him in her house for something as simple as a talk and to watch football. It takes him longer than he'd like to reach the walkie on the little side table by his grandmother's rocking chair. His ribs are screaming at him and his elbow smarts from banging it on the corner as he turned into the sitting room.

"I need some sort of backup at my apartment. Like now please?!" He waits a second before pressing the speaker button again, "Over."

The walkie crackles and he hears an assortment of concerned chatter. "Steve?" Dustin's voice breaks through the general din. "What's the problem? Over."

"I- I'm not sure how to classify it? I've Got Hop at my front door but I think there's something wrong with him? Or something is trying to trick me it's him? Oh shit did I get Vecna'd??"

"Steve," Nancy snaps, shutting up most of the chatter and giving his rising panic something to focus on. "Why do you think it's not Hopper? Or that he's not in control of himself?"

"He- He invited me to the cottage for dinner?"

"What?"

"Yeah just dinner and talking? And that- that's weird right?"

Nancy sighs and Steve hears Hop say something from outside his apartment. He's running out of time. "Why is that so weird Steve?"

"Cause he doesn't like me. And Joyce really doesn't like me." He feels like that's obvious. "They don't like me and they're busy with other stuff. They wouldn't willingly ask me over for dinner and football or some shit so something has to be up."

"Seriously kid?"

He doesn't scream as he drops the walkie-talkie, spinning around to face the voice behind him.

"You're calling an emergency cause I invited you to dinner?"

Again, he feels like this is obvious. "Yes. I don't know what happened but we're going to fix it Hop, I promise. Or, like, if you're something controlling Hop or wearing his face or some shit I will figure it out and I will find the most painful way to kill you."

Hop runs a hand down his face again, he's going to have so many wrinkles after this. "Fucking Christ, kid. Is it so crazy that we wanted to try and get to know you? Make sure you're fed and taking care of yourself since apparently Owens isn't making sure you're alright?!"

What the fuck?

"Yes!" That seems to make Hop take a step back. "I tried for years to try and get the slightest acknowledgement from you! I've spent the last year taking care of the kids and monitoring the gates and fighting Powell and Owens every time they decide to try something stupid and almost get their men killed cause I realized you never meant it!" God he can hear his voice breaking and feel the tears starting to roll down his face. "You never meant it. But you meant it for El and Will and fuck, even Jonathan. And they deserved that. They needed you and you couldn't be there if you and Joyce were fighting with Owens and-" He can't hold back the sob that rips out from deep in his chest. "And I don't- I can't- I just-"

"Hey, hey kid. I need you to breath for me. Okay? Can you just let it out in one push and take a deep breathe in."

There's a large, warm hand rubbing up and down his back. His running nose is throbbing, his sore ribs are probably cracked now from how tightly he's folded in on himself and his injured leg feels wet like he pulled the stitches when he dropped to his knees on the threadbare rug. There's a deep rumbling voice talking to him, telling him how to breathe and asking him to sit up, let go of the walkie he can hear crackling as people call his name and ask Hopper what's going on. It's all just too much.

Why?

"What was that, kid?" Oh. He didn't mean to say that out loud.

"Why?"

"I fucked up. I'm trying this thing called owning up to my mistakes." Steve lets out a wet laugh that turns into a pained groan when it shakes his ribs. "Come on, let's get you up here." He tries not to cry out when Hop lifts him up from under his armpits, pulling at his ribs, but he knows he lets out a sharp whimper. "You fuck up your ribs?"

"What do you think?"

"Yeah, dumb question." Hop chuckles self-deprecatingly. "Look, let's get your ribs wrapped and we'll get you down to the hospital to get checked out an-"

"No. No hospital. Can't do 'em."

"Kid you need to get looked at and maybe some pain meds and antibiotics while you heal up."

"No fucking drugs." Steve practically growls, his teeth clenched and eyes burning as he stares up at Hop. "I'll take your fucking antibiotics but I can take a couple of ibuprofen and call it a day."

"A couple of- What the fuck, kid? You can barely walk and you're telling me you're not in serious pain?"

"I've had worse."

"Bullshit." The kid winces and the look on his face closes off. "Stop trying to be a hero and just admit you need help." Steve rolls his eyes.

"I'm fine, Hop. I've walked off worse."

"Again, I call bullshit."

"You know how thorough our Russian friends could be."

"What?"

Steve shrugs, an angry grimace on his face. "Once you live through Russian military questioning and hiking through Upside Down Hawkins, most everything after that's a piece of cake."

"Jesus Christ-"

"I don't think saying his name is gonna make him listen to ya now."

"Ya ain't cute, kid."

Steve gives him the same smile he always did whenever Hop crashed one of his 'King Steve' parties. "I'm adorable." He chuckles at himself and Hop finds himself laughing along at the kid's attitude. "What do you want, Hopper?" Steve's voice is quiet. It wavers in a way that tells him the kid is sad and hesitant and tired and Hopper can feel something niggling at the back of his mind. "You come over out of the blue asking me to dinner with your family like that's something we do. What the fuck man? What are you trying to do?"

"Like I said kid: I realized fucked up. Bad. And I'm trying to fix it."

"That's it?"

"Yeah. Yeah it is."

Steve leans back, the rocking chair leaning farther back than Hop feels comfortable with considering the kid's injuries but he manages to not rock back so far he falls. "Alright then. So what do you need?"

Hop can't follow this kid at all and he's not sure when that happened. If it's always been like that. "What are you talking about kid? You're the one that's all beat up." His mind goes back to swollen eyes and bruised knuckles covered in a rainbow of haphazardly placed bandages being fussed over by a group of dirty but uninjured kids. Bloody sailor uniforms rounding up rowdy kids without a mark on them despite obvious injuries and a slight limp and what might be bruised ribs. Bandages being removed to expose red raised around a strong neck that looks like someone took barbed wire to it and bulky bandages poking out from beneath stolen shirts. "What are you talking about what I need?"

Steve lolls his head to look at Hopper. For the first time all evening his eyes are trained on the older man unflinching and not anxiously darting away. His smile is more a resigned grimace. "What do you need to get Robin -and I'm guessing the kids- off your back?"

"It's not just because of them."

"But it is because of them."

"I want to make this right."

"It's not yours to fix, Hop. I've made peace with that. Thought I'd made that clear to the rest of them."

"I thought the kids didn't know."

"Not about you being my emergency contact and like, in charge of making big medical decisions if they couldn't get a hold of my parents. But that you'd stop by the house to make sure I hadn't like drowned washing my hair after I took a beating. That I put more stock in that than I should have."

"You were right to put stock in that stuff Steve. Fuck, if I knew anyone else in that situation I'd assume they'd basically adopted you. It makes sense."

Steve shrugs, wincing less this time. "That's life, can't fix it now."

"Will you let me try?"

"I mean. I'm giving you a get-out-of-jail-free card here man."

"And I'm not taking it."

"Well. It's there, whenever you decide to take it."

"Thanks but no thanks, kid."

"Hey, your choice Hop. Ever get tired of the boardwalk just say the word and it's yours. Do not pass 'Go!'. Do not collect $200."

"Monopoly, really?"

"My head may have gotten a knock too. Not a concussion but I'm a little... swimmy."

"Swimmy?"

"Uhm-hmm"

Hop chuckles, "You're an odd duck, kid, you know that? An odd, pain in my ass, duck."

Steve feels his face splitting in a wide smile that pulls at a small cut on his lip and lets his head fall back, his body finally starting to come down from the adrenaline rush that has been this entire interaction.

"Quack quack."

Tag list (I think this is everyone?)(If you see this post and your tag didn't work let me know cause they don't always work for me Idk why):

@thelittleclare @jackiemonroe5512 @0body0disphoria0 @strangersteddierthings @lingeringmirth @dead-cherry-bitch @irethsune @ink777 @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner @ledleaf @pansexuality-activated @paintsplatteredandimperfect @kinryuuki @yikes-a-bee @altocumulustranslucidus @ohimamarigold @samsoble @sensationalsunburst @xxbottlecapx @y4r3luv @swimmingbirdrunningrock @flustratedcas @rootbeerandmusic @vinteraltus @wonderland-girl143-blog @failedstarsandgoldenclouds @steddie-as-they-go @steveshairspray86 @youdrewstarsxaroundmyscars @i-amthepizzaman @wormapothacary @croatoan-like-its-hot @maya-custodios-dionach @ineffable-monster-romancer @asquareinverona @ellietheasexylibrarian @pukner @bookworm0690 @nightmareglitter @joekeerysmoles @salchica @lawrencebshoggoth @iheartjennaaa @child-of-cthulhu @anaibis @rocochen20 @katdeerly @samcoxramblings @fiore-della-valle

[shotokimchi]

When Their S/O Is a Seggs God

MINORS DNI

How would they react if their cute lover was like a succubus in bed LMAO Going through some hard stuff so wanted to drop this here to laugh a little JSDFHSDK-

A/N:Sorry for being inactive y'all i swear I'm not ignoring the requests, just preparing for an important exam this year, but I'll be back around Julyyyy

Little side note: Characters are aged up so don't come at me smh

part2 w/Dabi and Midoriya

Bakugo

So we all know that this man doesn't sleep around randomly. My guy dates the "one" for him he's planning to marry you so if you aren't planning about settling down...

Too bad for you missy (Lemme see your ring finger bitch you gonna get wifed up💍)

After taking you out to meet his parents, this chili oil literally falls in love with you (i mean he already did but when he saw how you treated his momma and papa- boy was CHOKING ON HIS HEART❤️) so he decides to take your relationship to the next level.

Needs and excuse to leave early so literally tells his parents that he has a bad case of diarrhea ( Do ya'll know that video LMAO) and drags you out to his car

Lemme tell you he ran over at least 5 red lights just to have sex with you-

And you are just confused about why he's suddenly acting like a rabid dog i mean he's always acting like one but this time-

"Suki, why is your mouth foaming?"

On the way to your apartment, you had an inner conflict about actually taking him to a vet, you aint planning on telling him that tho.

After finally throwing you onto the shared bed like a sack of flour mf flies for a second in the air like a bloodthirsty mosquito- (the only difference is he's thirsty for the ✨All-mighty pussy juice✨)

Dw tho man asks for your consent because he loves you a lot and doesn't want your first time to be scary and all-

Wait did i say first time?

YES MF THINKS YOU'RE A VIRGIN- but guess what he's about to find out...

Before he can start kissing you, you push him onto his back and rip off his pants and leave a small peck on his lips before riding him like you are in a horse race- Good news gurl you are about to win, no one can compare

Poor man is speechless bc you are literally singing on his dick like you are the headliner in a choir...

And while you are singing you are rhythmically bouncing too LMAO

IM👏GONNA👏PUMP👏EVERY👏SINGLE👏DROP👏OUT👏OF👏YOU

He aint scared no he just swallowed his tongue by accident- cuz you know...

HIS GIRL IS LITERALLY DOING THE DUCK WALK ON HIS DICK (🦆🦆🦆)

WALK THAT FUCKING DUCK Y/N QUACK QUACK QUACK

He decides to grab your hips to slow you down a little bc you are causing an earthquake with a magnitude of 6.9

but instead of slowing you down now you are making him jump on the bed with you too LMAOAOAOAOAO- imagine someone breaking in and seeing two floating figures on the bed

He's like "SLOW DOWN Y/N-"

But nuh uh you are too caught up in your own horny world so you continue to milk him (Fr tho calm down queen aren't those legs tired?🦵)

After cumming for the 5th time he tapped out LMAO-

You gave him a concussion bc of making him bounce for too long KSJFHJSDKFGSDKJHSD- POOR KATSUKI

He was laying there, unconscious with drool dripping down his mouth and it took you three full minutes to realise that he passed out (OMG I'm gone-)

Fly high Katsuki Bakugo 🕊️🕊️

Dw tho you made sure to pamper him the morning after, bringing him a breakfast tray filled with pancakes and a cup of coffee. A cute innocent smile plastered on your face

"Morning, baby!"

Needless to say, he was shocked ( pretty sure he thinks it was the hottest night ever but doesn't wanna hurt his own pride by telling you that)

"WHAT HAPPENED-"

Todoroki

BAHAHAHA OMG OK LISTEN-

So both of you are lovebirds obv because Todoroki would be the most caring boyfriend ever (i'll fight you about this one 🥊🥊🥊) so its impossible not to be in love with him

So pretty baby thinks it's going to be all about kisses, vanilla, sweet loving, him showing how much he cares about you etc.

AND HE IS A VIRGIN

Todoroki being a virgin is such a turn on he trusts you enough to give his first time to you (aw❤️🤍)

...but you didnt know that he was a virgin

I mean come on look at him how can he be a virgin while looking THAT PRETTY

So one time, while you guys were chilling on the couch watching Titanic and snacking on some strawberries together he decides to make the first move and gently holds your hand while whispering sweet things to your ear and then you hear the magical word (open sesame zimzalabim this coochie 🔮)

"Y/n, I wanna do it."

BIG MISTAKE SHOTO VERY BIG- So being the horny queen you are the wicked horny grin makes its way to your lips and baby is concerned Before he can say anything you immediately grab a strawberry and stuff it into his mouth and quickly try to get him off of his sweatpants

Then you work your magic on him by giving him the best and first head of his life ✨ and trust me he is enjoying it very much

Mmmm yes that famous glock glock 60000 GOBBLE UP BABES don't let em Santa Claus looking pubic hair get into your nose tho🎅

Pretty moans were filling the living room while his fingers lock with yours

But the baby was too lost in his own pleasure so he accidentally bit the strawberry and took it out of his mouth

But you noticed so you grabbed a new one and harshly shoved it into his mouth

"Dont. swallow. the. strawberry."

Babies eyes went wide

YOU SCARED HIM

AND IT WAS HIS FIRST TIME TOO

he %100 looked like this-

So now he was drowning in his own pool of saliva trying not to bite into the strawberry while his eyes were rolling at the back of his head (bc of your amazing tongue skills)

Spot the difference between your mouth and a vacuum cleaner

NONE

When i tell you, you were sucking him DRY

like the next Todoroki generation got to the point of extinction

at this point he was trying to pry you off of his dick bc the overstimulation was TOO much lolol

Poor baby accidentally covered the couch with small burns

when you lifted your head to check up on him you were met with a sobbing Shoto

BOY WAS GASPING

Literally thought of bringing him an oxygen tank but decided against it bc he calmed down after receiving your loving kisses You layed his head on your chest while combing through his locks with your fingers, you made sure to give him a great aftercare

"Are first times are this rough?"

You choked on Casper the ghosts dick

"WHAT-" Literally mourned for two hours bc of treating him so roughly LMAO

A/N: I'm done- sorry for the typos if i have any, i was too lazy to edit :p

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Adam is a duck au

A sinner that has the power to talk to animals comes to the hotel.

Charlie: and lastly this our hotel pet grumpy

Sinner: oh wow, you know I can tell you what he says

Charlie with big star eyes: really! Let me get everyone

Sinner: alright buddy what you have to say

Grumpy aka adam: please help me! They are crazy!

Grumpy: lucifer kidnapped me from a lake! Thinking I was someone fucking pet! Like I get it, I look bigger than the other ducks, but at least-

Sinner: what!??

Grumpy: Let me finish they keep dressing me up in clothes! And that stupid radio guy keeps trying to cook me alive!

Sinner: oh god!

Duck adam, aka grumpy, went on who Quack screamed to match for over what seemed like hours. Some say he created new words to describe each person in the hotel

Charlie: alright I got everyone!

Sinner: you people are sick!

Grumpy: nooooooo my savior!

What everyone hears

Grumpy angry Quack

Adam: No don't go!

Sinner: I'm sorry man, but I'm out.

Charlie: What did he say?!

The sinner tells them what Adam/Grumpy said before leaving out the door.

Charlie: Dad you said he was a pet!

Lucifer: I thought he was! And that freak hotel manager tried to eat him!

[yorshie]

TURTLE JOKES

Bayverse tmnt

Fem Reader (No Y/N)

no pairings, leans slightly Raphael x reader

warnings/summary: pregnant reader, horrible turtle jokes, cussing, suggestive jokes, meeting the turtle boys

Aged up turtles (22 ish)

Your weekly ritual was something you loved dearly about your friendship with April.

Ever since college, the two of you would meet up in the park to shoot the shit, feed the turtles and ducks, and in general bemoan the horribleness of the dating scene.

About seven months ago, though, the meetings had changed gears. You knew, eventually, she’d cotton on to what was happening. There was only so much you could hide behind baggy clothes and the dark lighting. You were waiting for the questions you weren’t sure you had answers to, expected them every time April’s gaze would pause on your midriff, track through your slower, more careful motions and the healthier food choices you brought with you.

Part of you wondered, as you hurried to your meeting bench next to the pond, if she’d wait until you had the baby in a buggy before saying anything. 

For some reason, the thought had you giggling like a maniac, emotion bubbling up quick and hot, and you felt yourself slip on thin air, the bread bag you’d been holding going flying as you slid gracelessly onto your back in the middle of the grass. 

“The fuck?!” You looked up at the darkened sky, took a moment, wiggling all limbs before trying to roll to the side. “Hmmm… here we go-nope.” You relaxed again, shimmied as though gearing up for a fight, tried to bend your stiff middle around again. 

Gave up after the third try, instead dug for your phone.

April picked up on the third ring.

“Hey, buddy, ole’ pal, best friend in the world-“

“Uh huh, yeah, what did you do?” She was already laughing, great.

You pushed air out in a loud raspberry. “Remember that joke about life alert?”

“A-are you ok?” Her tone changed fast, though you could still hear the edge of humor.

“Yup.” You popped the p, raising your head to look around the darkened grass, scowling at the halo of bread bits and carrot hunks littered around you. “But I’m a flipped turtle in the middle of duck chow and I feel the tiny velociraptors closing in-”

A muffle on April’s side, and you heard her hiss violently at whoever it was.

“Are you good?” You asked, concerned, shuffling up on your elbows.

“Yea, I’m fine, ignore that.”

“Oookkkkay.” You huffed, dropping back down. “In that case: help, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.” You deadpanned the last bit.

A loud snort, male, definitely not April, and your eyebrows rocketed up. 

“Woooow, I am not the only one with some ‘splainin’ to do.” You glanced down at your exposed middle, watched as a small jiggle shifted under your shirt. “If you hurry and come get me before a turtle or a duck does I’ll fess up to mine.”

“Did you fall in the park?!”

You squinted your eyes at the tone, “mmmayyybeee?”

Movement from the phone, and you pulled back to look at the speaker. Movement from the corner of your eye brought you up short though. “Oh god.”

“Hey, hey, what’s ‘oh god’?” April was back, with what sounded like a whooshing air dryer.

“I see eyes. It’s Hermando.” The duck looked at you, then the bread. “He’s gonna call the whole calvary over here. I’m done for. Remember me fondly.” You strained, trying to get your arm far enough back under your hip to push off from. “Oh, god, April. I’m a little stuck turtle. I’m gonna have to crawl for it.”

“Don’t you fucking move.” It was bit out with surprising venom. “What if you’re concussed, hurt, going into early labor-”

“Hey!” You interrupted, “we were suppose to be pretending that wasn’t a thing!”

“You’re getting along, sweetheart, I’d have to be blind not to notice.”

“Ok, well, rude, O’Neil,” You let out a screech, feeling a duck peck at your leg. Blindly, you threw the phone, sending your target flapping off in a whirlwind of feathers and quacking. You distantly heard April squawking from the phone now sliding across the grass, further and further away. 

You laid back on the grass, blowing out a loud breath, listening to the sound of the duck moving further away. To your left, the bushes rustled. 

“Oh, god, please don’t be a bigger duck.” You shut your eyes, only to open them back up again as a shadow fell over you. You peered up, dumbfounded.

“Green duck?” 

“You see a fucking bill?” Came the low growl, and your eyes widened.

“Nooo?” You turned it into a question, conscious that you were on the ground and he was towering over you, and despite there being no bill stuck to his face you could clearly see the shell sticking up over his shoulders.

“Raph, did you find her?” More voices, blessedly someone that sounded like April, moving towards you. When you turned your head though, saw her leading three more just like the not duck looming over you, your filter broke.

“Is this the reason you don’t laugh at my turtle jokes?” You pointed helpfully at the one standing over you to illustrate your point, body relaxing as your friend moved nearer.

“Oh thank god,” April crouched down next to you, hands hovering, but you were already trying to push up, twisting to get one elbow under your straining spine. “Hold on, hold on, let Donnie look you ov-”

“If I don’t get off this fucking ground I’m going to kill someone.” You snarled, holding the position, trying to push past the point of resistance with your foot. “I mean it, April, I just had to fight off a whole pack of rabid ducks, blood and guts everywhere-”

“And suspiciously no bodies,” Said another voice, dry humor, and you snorted, hand slipping as you fell backwards again. Before you could hit the ground again, a large hand caught your shoulders, and blessedly, pushed you passed that stuck point.

You sat, catching your breath, before tilting your head back and replying blissfully. “I ate all them, how else do you think I got this big?”

“I thought pregnant chicks got fat from fu-” The cheery whisper was cut off, turning into an abrupt gag that made you think someone had chosen violence. 

You gave April a look. She had the grace to look sheepish before you turned back to the shifting goliath turtles standing in a broken circle around the two of you. Huffing, you finally looked away, raising your hands up in the air and making grabby motions. “Ok, ok. Party’s over. Who wants to help the pregnant chick off the ground?”

A large hand reached down, and you wrapped both sets of digits around as he pulled, and you found yourself off the ground faster than you anticipated. Your grip tightened before he could shake off the touch, and you stood there for a long moment, eyes shut, knowing you were violently green.

“Ooo, hold on, I’m sorry, just- give me a moment.” You unconsciously swayed forward and backward until another hand came up to steady you, April, judging by the small fingers. 

You swallowed heavily, took a step away from the press of large bodies, and smiled weakly, finally getting a better look at them all. 

“Um…” April gestured as you breathed heavily through your nose. “Introductions: Leonardo,” She patted the shoulder of the one nearest, blue bandana across his face, swaying gently back and forth as though unable to stay still. He gave you a nod, fingers waving, and April moved on:

“Donatello,” Purple, so tall you had to crane your head, typing fast on a gauntlet on his arm while moving closer. 

“Hello, I’m just gonna make sure your vitals are good.” 

You took a violent step back, swinging the arm you didn’t realize you were still holding in front of you, and they all froze, gazes becoming still.

“No needles.” 

“No- needles?” He looked confused, glancing over at April for help.

“No needles,” She quickly assured, and you stepped back around the arm, returning Donatello’s small smile as you let him get closer.

“And this is Michelangelo.” You gave her a look, connecting the dots to the names you’d overheard over the last two years meeting up with her, but twitched a smile as the orange ping pong ball moved into your field of vision, feeling the need to hide again.

“Hey, baby momma, you are looking fiiinnne-” 

You felt your snort catch in your throat as Leonardo grabbed the littlest by the strings of his orange bandana and yanked him away from you.

“And Red here is Raphael.” You followed her point to the largest turtle next to you, and you took in his careful stare, feeling your eyes widen as you followed the breath of his shoulders down to the hand you were all but clutching across your torso.

“Wow, wow, ok. Sorry. Personal Space.” You all but threw his arm back at him. “I am going to behave and my hands are going to behave and there will be no more grabb-”

Donatello snorted from next to you, and you shivered, forgetting how close he was. “If he didn’t want to be your personal cuddle bear I bet he could have gotten out of it.” 

Raphael sniffed, and you narrowed your eyes at him, before turning to the others. “Jesus. Christ. April.” 

April smiled, tilting her head as you moved around, Donatello straightened as you moved between them and then backed up a little on the grass, hands on your knees and squinting as though to take them all in. 

“I don’t know what the fuck you feed these boys, but they’re too damn big!”

Her laugh was loud, obnoxious, but you felt a smile bubble up as you started in too, the sound cutting off as you felt yourself start to go backwards again.

“Holy H-”

An hand shot out, and you were yanked back upright, this time not hesitating to plaster yourself to the arm offered.

“Maybe you should just stay holding on to cuddle bear here,” Leonardo offered, his smile a small thing, quickly dropping as Michelangelo butted in again.

“Hey if you need a second cuddle bear I’m free sweetpea.”

“Mikey,” Raphael all but growled, the sound traveling down to your chest, but surprisingly the other turtle stopped, large smile still in place.

“So. Turtles?” You looked around at them, down at the three fingered hand curled into a loose fist on the side of your stomach, before back to April, saw her nod.

“Turtles.” Donatello confirmed.

“Mutants.” Raphael growled.

“Ninjas.” Leonardo added.

“Brothers.” Michelangelo butted in, knocking against Leonardo to jockey closer to April.

You watched Donatello leave the group for a moment, arm aloft, only to return with your forgotten phone, holding it out for you to take.

“We were going to get pizza.” April offered as you slid it back in your pocket. “After I meet up with you we go get pizza. There’s room if you’d like to come?”

You frowned at her offer. “April O’Neil.” She blanched, and you saw Donatello take a step away from you and back towards his other brothers.

“Have you-” You broke off, dropped to a hiss. “Have you let me do that stupid turtle impression every week with these four hanging around?”

Donatello hummed. “It’s a very good impression.” He sounded like a man that studied how to lie to get out of complicated situations and failed every practical test.

“That’s a bold faced lie.” You pointed at him, jabbed the finger threateningly.

“I don’t know,” Raphael rumbled next to you. “I definitely felt the siren’s call. We had to tie Mikey up to keep him from you.”

You pulled a suffering face, looked at April again, and she took pity. 

“They were banned from making videos.” Your face fell more, but she continued. “Come get pizza with us, and I’ll let you put whatever you want on yours, and no one will say anything.” She held up her hand in a mime of swearing an oath, nudging Leonardo until he got the hint and one by one they all held up their hands, eyes rolled to the sky.

 You caved at the thought of satisfying pregnancy cravings.

“Ok. Ok, fine. Need something to wash out the taste of rabid duck anyway.” 

From the corner of your eye, you saw Donatello preemptively shock Michelangelo.

[fangswbenefits]

Inexperienced!Miguel? Oh goodness... my quack is quaking. (I have too many inappropriate duck jokes-)

Miguel knows he has a breeding kink, and hes reminded it of it everytime youre around Mayday, but hes just scared to say anything. He doesn't want to scare you off, and how could he, so inexperienced, demand you of such things?

It isnt until you have him whining and gasping, right on the brick or pleasure and tears when he starts pleading. Large hands holding your hips tentatively as you ride him, nails digging in just slightly from the amount of bliss you're nearly overstimulating him with. And he's so close, just right there,

"Please, please, let me breed you, please," He sobs, practically begging, tears running down his face, his thrust stuttering. You slow to a stop. Staring down at him, absolutely bewildered.

Immediately his cheeks flush with embarrassment as he realizes what he's just blurted out. Tears keep falling bc hes just so embarrassed, stuttering and spewing apologies and excuses. A gentle hand to his throat shuts him up real fast, and he shutters his eyes shut, preparing for some punishment. Expecting you to call him names for terrible such thinking.

"You wanna pump a baby in me, pretty boy?" You coo, and his eyes snap open. "C'mon, then, fill me up."

Miguel is sent seeing stars as you ride him with such intensity, your legs are burning. His head is thrown back, loud, almost lion like groans are falling from his lips. Your little 'thats it, baby,' and other encouragements are going straight to his dick. His feet are planted on the bed so he can thrust up into you harder and faster, crying out sayings you don't fully understand but can't wait to hear more of.

He cums in no time. You'll have to train him to hold it til you cum together, but you finish yourself off for now. After all, he's been such a good boy. And his little high pitched cries as you pulse around him, walls clenching as you reach your high are very worth it.

He won't leave your warmth, so aftercare is a bit awkward as you can't do much. He's just so clingy after spending everything he had in him, he doesn't want to let you go. Poor boy needs to bury himself in your heat and in your chest, arms tight around your waist as he keeps you impossibly close. His breathing hot and heavy as he gulps and swallows at each little flutter your cunt teases him with.

And though he's extremely exhausted, he really hasn't done this enough, but he slides a hand down to your tummy. His warm palm resting on your soft skin. He cannot wait to see you so round and full of him. It sends the blood right back down and suddenly you're pinned under one very flustered face Miguel.

His blush goes deep down his chest, eyes still in post-ogasmic haze, and he smiles lopsidedly.

" 'M gon' get you s'full," His words are slurred as he rests on his forearms. So he can be closer to you as he tries his very best to fuck into you from this position. Trying to remember how you taught hin the first time he had you pinned on the bed, your legs wrapped around his thin waist. "You're gon... be s'full." He pants, swallowing a whine as he keeps going, earning a low groan from you.

Miguel can't tell what's better; That you're letting him breed you, or that you seem to be craving him just as much as he craves you.

-🦆🦆

“"Please, please, let me breed you, please," He sobs, practically begging, tears running down his face, his thrust stuttering. You slow to a stop. Staring down at him, absolutely bewildered.”