#gooooood scratchy

[i-really-like-phrogs]

You’ll NEVER GUESS where I’ve been!

[castlebyersafterdark]

Inspired by the facial hair, Mike not shaving/being so busy he forgets to and he’s in a gooooood mood when he wakes up. The first time he wakes Will up when he forgot to shave, it was with soft morning kisses which quickly turn heated and when he trails the kisses down Will’s neck, boy does Will loose it. The shivers from the stubble scraping his neck followed by soft heated kisses, he can’t get enough.

Needless to say Mike absolutely does this a few more times.

🥵🥵🥵 This is it!!!! YES.

It starts off just as an occasion where Mike lets it go for a few days. One lazy day leads to another leads to several more skips. His beard grows in a bit, the stubble more pronounced than a day or two ignoring it. And he kinda likes it. Wakes up first one morning, as he usually does. Hand running over his face as he groans and stretches out the sleepiness from his body. His facial hair slightly rough against his palm, finally a bit filled in from what he can tell. Hears Will stirring next to him, his back turned his way as he nuzzles back into his pillow, whining a bit. Will must have opened his eyes, displeased to encounter the morning sun. He's so cute.

Mike slides over, wrapped around Will's back. Breathing in the scent of his hair, always loves the combination of lingering fancy hair product and sweet sleep sweat, hair tickling his face as he shifts as close as possible. And Will shifts back into him, seeking his warmth. Kisses to his neck. Soft and sweet. Paired with the gentle but coarse scratch against sensitive skin. Will makes a please little noise and tilts his head up, silently asking for more. Warm kisses pressed to skin, the pass of a cheek against his soft neck. Will full body shudders at the feeling of the stubble. Mike's never felt like that before. He really wants to see. But Mike kisses down further, pulling the blankets down to expose Will's bare shoulder, where more scratchy kisses are placed.

Dipping under the covers as he turns Will onto his back to trail kisses down his chest and stomach, smiling at the breathy little moans as Will enjoys the sensation of soft kisses and the heated scratch against his skin. Mike indulging a really slow path, knowing they have plenty of time that morning. The best is the attention between Will's thighs, where the kisses grow even more heated, his most sensitive skin of all.

Soft lips, sucking bruises, running the coarse morning beard against skin that's alight and ready to all be tasted in darkness under covers. This new feeling and sensation is addicting and clearly Will's into it. His hand is in Mike's hair, alternating between petting and pulling it. Driving him wild and Mike may embrace the new look. Hasn't even seen himself in a mirror yet. Doesn't matter. He doesn't need to see. Will likes it, at least the feeling of him. Will sounds so pretty and his thighs are spread wide, twitching as Mike shifts focus and takes him down his throat to start the day with a treat for them both. ❤️

[tuxedo-lef]

The more I learn about Joao and his apparent longing for Fabio, the more I want to see him in fics. I want him as the boyfriend Fabio leaves for Gabriel, the best friend with the obvious (to everyone but Fabi) crush that Gabriel is jealous of, the person Fabio settles for when he thinks he can't have Gabi. There's potential- 💙🤍

I've been doing a deep dive (as much as I can with my rudimentary level of Portuguese) on the two, and they compel me even if I still have a preference for fabinelli. I've even started considering writing an endgame Joao/Fabio fic (with or without Gabi involved - idk yet - it's just vibes in my brain atm). For now though, I've already started incorporating Joao more consistently in my worldbuilding for fabinelli wips.

"I want him as the boyfriend Fabio leaves for Gabriel, the best friend with the obvious (to everyone but Fabi) crush that Gabriel is jealous of, the person Fabio settles for when he thinks he can't have Gabi."

-> It's crazy because I think about the dichotomy of Martinelli and Joao in Fabio's mind. Martinelli who inspires newness at Arsenal and success on a global stage. Martinelli who is a year younger but who tends to lead and guide Fabio because he's more settled in the EPL. VS. Joao who inspires the feeling of coming home to Porto, of "settling" for a local legacy. Joao who is the same age and takes care of Fabio but who tends to fall in Fabio's shadow when they are together. IT'S JUST SO GOOOOOOD!

I'm actually at the section in my current wip (the one I just did the ask game on) where I introduce Joao. For context, in a previous scene, Fabi used Joao Mario's name when him and Gabi pretended to be boyfriends for like two seconds to cover for Gabriel who was running away from police officers. At that point in the story, Fabio didn't know Martinelli's full name so he used another name to make it seem more plausible. When Martinelli questioned Fabio about it, Fabio simply says it was the "first name that came to mind".

It's a little complicated but it just helps understand the next scene.

SCENE STARTS HERE:

Gabriel Martinelli

He had just completed a deal two streets away from Fábio’s apartment. Martinelli’s feet had dragged him to the entrance of the humble apartment building, his finger punching on the intercom button with a sticker of the Portuguese’s initials “F. V.” under it.

“Who is it?” a scratchy voice answered, distorted by the cheap speaker of the intercom.

Gabriel wasn’t certain it was Fábio’s, but he replied anyway.

“It’s Martinelli.”

“I’ll come down to you.”

The accent was similar, but the timbre was off. Martinelli almost wanted to leave, but didn’t want to seem like a coward.

A man, about his height, but with a slimmer built and well-defined curls, pushed the door of the entrance open.

“Martinelli, you said?”

“Yes,” Gabriel replied.

“Fábio’s taking a nap right now. He just got back from his midterm.”

“Ah… And you are?”

“João Mário.”

João Mário.

The guy, João, continued to talk, “Did you want to leave him a message? He never mentioned a Martinelli before, but-”

“No. It’s okay. It wasn’t important.”

“Are you sure? I can go wake him up.”

Martinelli was possessed by the image of this man in Fábio’s bedroom. The fact that he had access to this side of Fábio. Did he know how Fábio stretched in the morning? If Fábio snored after drinking on night out? If Fábio’s skin ran cold or warm under the sheets? Did João fucking Mário know how Fábio’s legs felt wrapped around his waist?

His imagination left the bitter taste of a green fruit lingering on his tongue, and Martinelli decided he couldn’t stand another second in the guy’s presence.

“It’s alright. I’m leaving.”

---------------------

SCENE ENDS HERE

Joao is only going to be in this story for a short period of time (as a friend from back home who is visiting Fabio while he is studying abroad in Brazil). I'm still in the drafting phase so I might edit some stuff about his character and the amount of scenes he's in but he's definitely in this story.

I also have this headcanon where Jorgi finds Joao extremely boring and that he keeps telling Fabio he shouldn't settle for familiarity.

Though I do enjoy the childhood friends to lovers trope which is why I see myself possibly writing for Joao/Fabio endgame in the future. Maybe shorter one-shots. I'm also trying to figure out a polyamorous dynamic for the three but it's not really working in my head yet.

[stinkrascal]

i keep doing this thing where i’ll only eat one specific food for a month straight then i make the shocked pikachu face whenever i’ve exhausted eating that single meal and wanting to eat something different finally and it is ruining my life

[writinginthesecrettrees]

dean trying to get sammy to take his entire fist

I got this while traveling and it’s been running through my head ever since.

So I may have written like 1k word on it, and because it’s all weecest and fisting...

Dean plans it for a weekend, wants all of Saturday to get Sam good and loose because the last thing he wants to do is hurt his baby brother, and Sam will have all of Sunday to recover.

He’s been wanting to try this for far too long, saw it in one of John’s dirty magazines that was so much dirtier than anything he’d seen before, never even thought that a whole fist could fit inside a person like that and couldn’t stop thinking about what Sammy would feel like, tight around his wrist and so so hot inside, what Sammy would sound like as Dean worked his fist deep inside.

What Sammy would look like, with the thick bulge of Dean’s hand moving in his guts and pushing out his belly.

Sam’s not so sure about this, but he wants to please Dean so he whispers “okay” when Dean tells him what fisting is. It starts out amazing - waking up with Dean’s mouth on his hole, licking and nipping at the puckered skin until Sam’s writhing in the sheets, begging for more and feeling so empty and hungry for more. Dean gets him sloppy-full of lube and fucks him, slow and deep and so satisfying and when he’s done Sam’s ready to fall back asleep. Jolts back awake when Dean pushes a plug into him.

“Gotta keep you stretched, Sammy,” and Sam whines at that but doesn’t complain. 

He spends the day naked, in Dean’s lap. Sometimes laid out on his belly, Dean rubbing and fingering him and fucking him with increasingly big plugs and a vibrator that Dean’s been saving just for this. Sometimes sucking Dean’s dick while Dean rims him around whatever toy is stuffed into him. Sometimes bouncing on Dean’s cock, thin arms wrapped around big brother’s shoulders and head thrown back while Dean sucks dark marks onto his throat, and when the sun sets Sam’s feeling wrung out and completely loose.

Dean pulls out the biggest plug he’s ever put into Sam, and it still looks smaller than his fist. Sam whimpers at the emptiness, hole clenching around nothing and gaping open.

“Looks so pretty, Sammy. All stretched out and puffy and pink inside… you’re just perfect, baby boy.”

“It feels funny, Dean. Empty. I need…”

“Don’t worry. Gonna fill you up good.” 

Dean adds more lube to the mess already squelching inside Sam and he knows he’s being excessive as he empties the bottle but he doesn’t want to hurt Sammy. Three fingers go in easy, and Sam’s still loose around them so he adds his pinky. His thumb tucks in too, and Sam clenches on his fingers. Gets tight when Dean reaches his knuckles and he pushes and pushes but can’t quite get in.

“Gotta relax for me, baby. Push out, okay?”

“Hurts,” Sam whines, and Dean’s heart starts to break.

“Okay… okay, I’m gonna stop.”

Sam’s hand shoots back and grabs Dean’s wrist. “No,” gritted out through his teeth, “wanna get it. Just… help me, Dean?”

“Okay. Deep breath in.” Dean leans down, presses a soft kiss to the base of Sam’s spine, rubs soothingly over his hip as he pushes hard into Sam’s hole. It gives a little as Sam pushes out against him and Dean hates that the breathless scream coming out of Sam gets him harder than he’s ever been. It feels like forever, getting deeper by millimeters, and then his knuckles pop through the tight ring of muscle and Sam screams again, high and shrill, clenches hard around his wrist and Dean can feel his bones grinding together and he almost collapses over Sam’s back, holds his arm still and marvels at how far into Sam he is. Feels like he could reach up and wrap his fingers around the frantic beating heart of his baby brother, needs to grab the base of his dick tight to keep from coming at the thought.

Carefully, slowly, Dean tucks the fingers inside of Sam into a fist, straining his ears to catch each gasp and moan his movement pulls out of his brother. Waits for Sam’s breath to even out before he curls his wrist to rub his knuckles against Sam’s prostate and his jaw drops when Sam starts humping into the mattress, fucking himself on Dean’s fist.

“Look so hot like this, Sammy. Swear I’m in ya half-way to my elbow here,” Dean pants, pulls out and punches back in along with Sam’s motion.

Sam’s eyes squeeze shut and his mouth hangs open, drool on the pillow beneath him as he grunts in concentration and rocks back onto Dean’s arm.

“So full, De. ‘S gooooood…”

Sam screams again as he comes, dry because he’s come so much today and has nothing left and when Dean pulls his fist out, covered in lube and come, Sam’s perfect pink rosebud has bloomed all puffed up and red and Sam whimpers softly when Dean jerks himself frantically to come across his back.

“Did so good, Sammy. You took it so deep, so good for me.”

Sam rolls his head to the side, smiles at Dean with heavy-lidded eyes. “I think I liked it.”

And Dean’s dick tries to twitch at that, already planning the next time they can do this, once Sammy’s had plenty of time to rest and recover, even if he really wants to punch his fist back inside now and keep it there forever, twist Sammy’s guts around his fingers so they can never be separated. 

Instead he slips into the bathroom, scrubs his hands and arm clean, brings a soft washcloth he stole just for this out to gently wash Sammy and kisses him while he whimpers as Dean wipes his skin clean. Hauls Sam up into his lap and presses a bottle of Gatorade to his lips, whispers, “C’mon, Sammy, hydrate. You need fluids,” to encourage him to drink, and when the bottle’s empty he pulls the scratchy sheets up to cover them both, curls around Sammy to get some sleep.

“D’n?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“‘M gonna suck you so–” a yawn, “–so good. In the morning.”

And Sammy’s asleep before Dean can make his brain work enough to say “oh, God, yes!”

[dzamie-oc]

Untitled Serperior TF

A day at the park becomes trouble when a Team Dim Sun grunt takes her new toy out for a spin. Without any Rangers around, the repercussions may be... strange. (922 words)

CW: transformation, mild pokephilia reference

Panting hard as razor-sharp leaves slice through the air just inches away from your head, you duck around the side of the large rock in the park. Your Garchomp, Izma, resurfaces next to you, a little scratched up but still able to keep going. A moment later, Dazzle vaults over the rock to land beside both of you, spitting a jet of flame to incinerate the strange Serperior's next attack. You hazard a look around your cover and spot the Grass-type slithering closer. Unnaturally slowly, though, and with unfocused eyes. Behind them, that strange figure in a black-and-purple uniform gloats over her equally strange laptop-like device. "Ha-ha, this is great!" she says, "the power boost these new 'remos give out sure is handy! C'mon, you snake, finish those losers off so I can try you out on the rest of town!"

"Gaarrr..." Izma mutters. Dazzle, too, weighs in, "laz, lazzazzle. Saaaa... Salazzle."

"Sorry, Dazzle, I've gotta agree with Izma on this one. That Serperior barely looks singed... and I don't think that daze they're in is from your poison." Another glance around the rock confirms that the Serperior is only getting closer. A plan slowly forms in your head, and you look to your two Pokemon. "Alright, girls, don't get used to this, but that snake isn't our main target anymore." An unsure look comes over Dazzle's snout, but Izma nods along.

You give the command and hold on tight to the Garchomp. Izma digs a tunnel through the earth with remarkable speed, carrying you with her, while Dazzle pounces at the Serperior, flames and toxins at the ready. All you can hear is muffled sounds of the fight, however, until Izma pops up out of the ground, right in front of the laptop-wielding woman. You fall from Izma's back onto the ground as powerful jaws snap down on the equipment, though your Garchomp's typing shields her from the dangerous-looking electricity arcing around the failing equipment. On the woman's face, surprise turns to anger as she snarls at you, "you jerk! Do you know what I had to do to get one of these? Serperior! Come and-"

Suddenly, a powerful blast knocks the three of you off your feet, sending you flying back and tumbling on the grass, with Izma skidding to a stop next to you. She springs back up quickly and roars in defiance towards where the laptop had been. You groan and try to stagger to your feet, but realize that your arms don't reach the ground. Adrenaline shoots through you as you jerk up in a rush, trying to look at your arms only to see a pair of short, green stumps. A shiver runs all the way up your spine and panic starts to take hold - without arms, eating will be difficult, doors may be impossible, and you can just about forget your favorite nighttime habit. Your imagination conjures up an image of Dazzle feeding you, and memories of the last time either of them tried to cook distracts your mind from the panic long enough to realize something else:

Your arm-stumps are GREEN.

Looking down again, you see not a human torso, but a green, serpentine one, with an exaggerated, yellow-lined collar. With an eerie calm, you turn your head to follow the length; it curves away to skirt along the ground, a few yellow bands interrupting the vivid green, before finally ending with a tapered tail sporting a few leaves. You blink and will the tail to move; it does, curling back towards you. "Izma?" you say, unsteady, "please tell me I'm hallucinating."

"Okay, you're hallucinating," comes the scratchy-voiced reply, "but you're also a Serperior. I didn't know humans could evolve."

"We can't; that's not helpful," you say through tight jaws - though your fangs no longer clench against each other, "Dazzle! I need your opinions on something!"

A few seconds later, the Salazzle walks up to you on all fours, grumbling about having almost scored, then pushes herself back up to two feet. "Is that... is that YOU?" she says, much more - properly, you might add - surprised than Izma had been. She looks you up and down. "You look gooooood."

Well, there's a solution for that nighttime habi- you stop yourself from continuing that train of thought. "What am I going to do? I set out on my journey with Izma to be a Trainer, not a trainee! Let alone learning how to... do the whole Serperior thing. I hope slithering comes naturally, because otherwise one of you may have to carry me home. And then there's convincing people I'm still me, and- woah!"

Izma hoists you up onto her shoulders; after some effort, you manage to loop your tail around her chest to hold yourself steadier, then look to see where she's going. It's the Serperior from earlier, his red eyes now much less hazy, watching you with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. "Hey," the Garchomp calls to him, "our Trainer is a Serperior now, and is really bad at it. Can you help him be less bad?"

Later that night, you think back on the events of the day. You've gotten slithering down pretty good, but vines are still a bit beyond you, let alone any proper moves. It was weird to have Dazzle hit on you so directly, but not altogether unpleasant. And yet, as you lay in the newly-created four-Pokemon sleep tangle, one thought remains on your mind...

"Wait, shit, am I speaking my usual language or going 'serp serperior'?"

[forsakenpumpkin]

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑺𝑯𝑬𝑬𝑻.

Repost, don’t reblog.

BASICS.

full name. Thebestmaster nickname. Besty! and situational joke names. gender. he’s good, thanks height. 2′2″ age. Likely over 500,000 years zodiac. virgo, based on isola entry date + 1st comic appearance spoken languages. dreamside universal

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.

hair color.  nope! eye color.  off-white skin tone.  blue rind accent.  no...? voice.  high, sort of nasally or scratchy, like a cartoon character. can also change pitch or voice pretty drastically if it’s in line with an act or joke. dominant hand.  you know, i just reread his chapter for this question, and it’s unclear. posture.  uhhh. floating scars.  unlikely tattoos.  nope! birthmarks.  noooope. most noticeable feature(s).  great question!

CHILDHOOD.

place of birth. under dreamside birth weight. same as current birth height. 2′2″ (same as current) manner of birth. magic first words. “huh? wait, who’s...” siblings. gooooood question! parents. steve. parental involvement.  presumably good, until he got separated from steve, and then they both apparently spent half a million years imprisoned in separate places, so that’s cool

ADULT LIFE.

occupation. in canon, it’s Whatever Steve Wants. in isola, he works in a theater and in a haunted house. current residence.  archimedes. close friends. he definitely considers you close if he uses a nickname, like for rosemaster, nightmare knight, vaati, and ammutseba. relationship status. no! financial status. fine? he understands money now, at least. driver’s license. that would be difficult. criminal record. probably nothing, although he could easily be roped into crimes. vices. envy, maybe

SEX & ROMANCE.

sexual orientation. ace romantic orientation. aro preferred emotional role. - preferred sexual role. - libido. - turn on’s. - turn off’s. - love language. acts of service (given), physical touch (received) relationship tendencies. would kill for you

MISCELLANEOUS.

character’s theme song. none, but i like to listen to poutatorvi. hobbies to pass time. going to quiet places and staring blankly into nothing for inhumanly long amounts of time mental illnesses. oh for sure physical illnesses. none fears. loud sudden noises, not being enough, people being mad at him self-confidence level. really bad, it’s entirely dependent on his ability to do what other people want of him vulnerabilities. cannot resist starting a performance if you hint at one

tagged by: @ingoldentent​ tagging: steal it!

[toodi-imagines]

Can i get some uhhhhhhhh 2Doc nsfw with 2D as a maid? 🅱️ank you

first of all, what the fuck is this??? Second of all??? Idk why I’m writing this?????? I have lost all credibility as a writer and I’ve had this blog for two (2) days

2D tilted his head and frowned, inspecting his reflection in the mirror. It was still missing something. He scratched his head before remembering the pièce de résistance. His headpiece. He snatched the frilly lace bonnet from his windowsill and placed it gingerly amidst his blue tufts of hair poking out in every which direction. He reevaluated himself in the mirror, nitpicking at every detail, and eventually gave himself a large, toothy grin. He felt inexplicable about his new fetish for being a servant. He had never realized how much he enjoyed being belittled, demeaned and barked at. Of course, he knew that Murdoc’s behavior towards him wasn’t healthy, but he couldn’t help feeling a little aroused at times when Murdoc would call him names. The times when Murdoc secretly showed kindness after being particularly rude were the times that 2D fantasized about. Before the events of plastic beach, Murdoc and 2D had a mutual relationship that functioned pretty much in this fashion. 2D missed those days on more than one occasion. Things were getting better with Murdoc. They weren’t perfect—2D still had panic attacks on occasion due to Murdoc—but they were improving. The two of them went to counseling together, which helped a great deal. Today happened to be one of those days that 2D yearned for his old relationship with Murdoc. As he stared at himself in the mirror, he imagined all of the things Murdoc could say to him; all of the things Murdoc could do to him. He closed his eyes, allowing his fantasies to run wild. “Oi, what the hell are ya wearin’, faceache?” a gruff voice spat from the doorway. “Muds! I d-didn’t fink yew were gonna b-be home yet!” 2D sputtered, both embarrassed and aroused. “Ya didn’t answer my question,” Murdoc slurred, making it apparent to 2D that he was drunker than usual. “I was just, erm, tryin’ it on…for fun I s'pose,” 2D said, looking down and scuffing his toe into the floor dejectedly. “Well,” Murdoc drawled on, taking a few steps closer as he talked, “you don’t really have the figure to pull it off, not rrrreally. Your shoulders look too bony, and your legs are too skinny. But…you’ve got a good enough butt,” Murdoc continued, objectifying 2D like he was a hatstand. 2D’s lust-filled eyes met Murdoc’s. “Oh, I -I-I see what it is,” Murdoc stumbled across his words, inching closer to 2D until his hot, booze-scented breath grazed his face, “you need someone to contrrrol you. You want someone to teach you a lesson…make you behave…” Murdoc continued, whispering heavily with a scratchy voice. 2D nodded, “That would be nice,” 2D replied his voice nearly cracking, and his breathing heavy. Murdoc hummed gutterally, “Well, aren’t you lucky, because I’m in just the mood to provide,” he tantalized. “You know what you are?” Murdoc questioned playfully as he circled 2D, soaking in his subservient appearance. “Wha’ would that be, Murdoc?” 2D replied. “A dirty. Little. Whore. And not much more than that,” Murdoc responded grinning and smacking 2D’s ass firmly. 2D’s sharp intake of breath pleased Murdoc who enjoyed feeling powerful and controlling. Murdoc’s words stung a little, but 2D knew it was all part of the game he craved playing with Murdoc. “Ya know what you’re gonna call me?” Murdoc grunted softly into 2D’s ear. “Wha’?” 2D whispered. “Sir. Now say it,” Murdoc commanded. “Yes, sir,��� 2D said, complying. “Oh gooooood, you like to behave. That’ll pay off well for ya,” Murdoc teased with a devilish smirk as he kicked the backs of 2D’s knees, causing them to buckle and 2D to drop to the floor. “I just wanted to see ya on your knees,” Murdoc explained, “and I like what I see,” he carried on. Murdoc stepped in front of 2D, getting a thrill from the sight of 2D beneath him. He slapped 2D’s cheek gently but firmly. “Do you know what you have to do now?” Murdoc quizzed with a smirk. “Yes, sir,” 2D replied. “Beg for it,” Murdoc commanded, clenching a fistful of 2D’s silky, blue hair from the back of his neck. “Murdoc, please, I really want yew, please let suck your dick, I really want it,” 2D groveled. “Oooohh is that sooo?” Murdoc retorted, unbuckling his belt. Quickly, 2D took over for him, unzipping and removing his pants for him—after all, a maid is supposed to do the work. “May I please have it?” 2D said staring at Murdoc’s bulging underwear. “I don’t know, have you been a good enough boy?” Murdoc patronized, giving 2D another firm slap. “Please, sir, I’ll do anything,” 2D continued to snivel. “Anything? Well I’ll keep that in mind,” Murdoc taunted, “but for now, I think you’ve earned it.” “Thank yew, sir,” 2D sighed with relief. 2D immediately got to work pleasuring Murdoc. Murdoc tilted his head back and moaned in ecstasy, praising 2D when he did a particularly good job. “You’re doing such a good job, D, you’re being a really good boy,” Murdoc moaned. 2D, enthused by Murdoc’s compliments, sped up his pace and began to run Murdoc’s length as he sucked. Murdoc’s eyes rolled back into his head, and his breathing became ragged and uneven. “Stu, oh hail Satan, Stu don’t stop,” Murdoc cried, his knees becoming weak. 2D continued, attempting to deepthroat as he sucked. “Come on, D, you can manage,” Murdoc cooed from above as he gently guided 2D’s head farther towards him. “There ya go, attaboy,” Murdoc praised between staggered breaths as 2D finally succeeded in deepthroating. “Keep going, I’m so close,” Murdoc growled. Murdoc thrusted into 2D’s mouth one final time before finishing on, well, pretty much everything. “Oh sweet Lucifer,” Murdoc groaned as he released, before glancing down at the mess he’d created and chuckling. He gently pet 2D’s head and kneeled down to kiss him. “You did a good job, ya know,” Murdoc said, showering 2D in affection, “now, let’s get this cleaned up, shall we?”