#that collar is so bad

[iztea]

The Collar Incident

[zecoritheweirdone]

wanna preface this by saying that i am. So normal. anyway i just spent the last week redrawing scenes from mystery skulls animated but as that hermitcraft au i posted about a couple times. you guys should watch msa it is. so so good.

[royaltea000]

Saw his stage actor and now I can’t act right

[canisalbus]

What would Machete think of winter ? Would he dislike snow ? I wonder.

I see him staying inside warming up while watching the snow fall, not really liking going outside. Idk.

He wouldn't deal well with winter. I don't think Vasco would be a fan either, they're both short coated dogs that are used to the comparatively warm Mediterranean climate.

I guess there would be an element of novelty to it at first, and maybe even Machete would find the snowy lanscapes pretty. But he's already having issues with thermoregulation in the canon setting (mostly due to anemia and low body weight. He tends to have cold hands and feet), adding in freezing weather would drain all life out of him very fast. He'd be taking even more hot baths than usual and spending as much time as possible near fireplaces.

[stealingyourbones]

Submitted Prompts #144

*shakes a bag of bird skulls I found in the woodsI and places it on your desk like it's a bag of gold*

I had an idea:

What if the Fenton parents are, in fact very competent Hunters, but they love their children more than their work?

Say the first shot Maddie ever fired at Phanton actually lands, and the scream he makes sounds too much like Danny's voice, to a point even with any ghostly distortion, his own still recognizes the voice.

I can see her pulling Jack to the side, making a ruckus about how the "darn ghost got away just as her blaster ran out of juice". Mostly as a way to get Danny her darling son to leave and go somewhere safe, while his parents have a whole breakdown in the GAV about their dead son.

And so begins the stealthy studies on how Phantom's "human disguise" works, the Revelation of Horrible Truth, keeping tabs on Danny's growth and revising their whole attitude on Ghosts to account for the fact that Danny himself is, at least in some part, a Ghost himself, but all he's done is live his life (and be the little hero Mom always said he'd grow up to be).

Jazz stumbles across his secret and is immediately pulled aside to join the secret "Protect the Baby Ghost" family group chat.

"And what about all the times they shot at him in canon" I hear you ask?

They're damn good shots, but while Maddie can train herself to aim just so that the shot misses just enough it looks like Phantom dodged it, Jack has the Fenton Bazooka outfitted with a tracking HUD that purposely fails to hit everyone's favorite Ghost Boy.

Danny picks up on that, but not on the fact that They Know.

And so begins the single most convoluted training arc ever.

Next time Skulker's in town, Phantom has become untouchable. Not a single shot or electrified net reaches it's target.

(The electrified weapons in particular send the Fentons into a rage when Sam and Tucker finally can't keep hiding it, and come clean about what happened, since the Fentons have proven themselves to be trustworthy)

When Red Huntress comes about, and Valerie Grey becomes barely a distant acquaintance after having only just now started becoming more than a friend, and with the GIW sniffing about, Maddie and Jack pull Danny to sit between them and finally tell him they know, and they want to prove that they'll love him just as much as before, whether Human or Ghost.

Danny breaks down in the safety of his family's love, and takes some time off as Phantom to help his parents establish a proper line of communication with the Ancients, considering they've kinda adopted themselves into the roles of Aunts and Uncles towards their little Ghostling.

Which is a good thing, because in Phantom's absence the GIW make a giant spectacle of destroying several houses while chasing some blob ghosts. They're chased out of town by brick, stone and metal bat.

Next time Red Huntress actually manages to hurt Danny, the Fentons pack up and leave. The Portal can be transported somewhere else. It can be rebuilt.

Their baby boy can't be rebuilt, no matter how much he likes to be a little shit and ignore Reality to quote Shakespeare at his own head (thank you Mr Lancer, for not giving up on him) or "give them a hand".

As Fenton takes the last tour of Amity, Phantom disappears. The Protal has been left seemingly unguarded.

The Ghosts decide to have one last hurrah in Anity Park before Danny closes the Portal, as per their deal. They won't hurt anyone, just cause chaos, but in return Phantom won't stop them. It's not like poor Red has the energy to chase them down, now that she's been "upgraded" into Amity's sole defender (the one time Lancer compares her new lack of sleep to Danny's, horrifying pieces start lining up too well in her mind)

The Fentons move out. Into a quiet farm neighbouring the land that belongs to the delightful couple that are the Kents, and their darling son, little Clark, who stares at Danny mildly horrified whenever he comes by to babysit, or help out with fixing the stubborn tractor. One day under Danny's clever hands, and Jonathan Kent's eagle-eyed gaze, and that damned tractor has never worked so well before. The boy's alright in the old man's eyes, and he makes sure they kid knows it.

After quiet rooftop admissions of one small boy's growing powers (I know Adult Clark is a brick house of a man, but what if he was a little twig while young) and the reveal of Something More Than Human from his honorary older brother, the course of Time sets into it's best version, and an Old Clock smiles, as Superman rises, only to be scolded by Spectre for recklessness.

(Dunno how well it came across, but I'm envisioning Valerie's feelings towards Danny to go from bitter resignation because she " had to" push him away, to horrified despair when the truth starts falling into place. He's her "the one that got away". And it's not like she gave him much of a reason to trust her with his secrets.

Maybe older and wiser Red Huntress gets invited to the Justice League, and has to deal with not just Fenton, but also Phantom flirting with her, after a good long conversation on how dumb they both were as kids, and a mutual vow of "I think I can do better now, and I want to prove it to you")

[bunnyreaper]

𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘

𝔞 𝔰𝔬𝔞𝔭 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰

𝖕𝖙 2 — 𝖕𝖙 1 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊, 𝖕𝖙 3 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊

wc - 5.2k

warnings - 18+/nsfw, dom sub dynamic, smut, phone sex, wee bit of angst, brief mention of the word 'daddy'

notes - vibrating with both excitement and fear, but hoping y'all love this like you loved the last one!! also on ao3! ♥

Johnny was right to send you to bed when he did because you're already struggling to get through the day, and on any less sleep, you might have fallen asleep at your desk. Clearly, you're terrible at making decisions for yourself, if that wasn't already evidenced by the nearly empty fridge accompanied by the pile of empty takeout containers.

It's not even the end of the workday yet, and you're beat—except staying up with Johnny was so worth it, getting to hear his voice and everything he said was complete bliss. You only wish he was here now, whispering in your ear and making your day go by quicker. Unfortunately, the sad reality is that beyond your good morning text, you haven't heard from him since, and you hate that you already feel like you're suffering from withdrawals. 

Again, that could be the lack of sleep, or adequate nutrition, or the fact that lately you haven't exactly been the most social person, and you've definitely been missing social contact. All of that missing need you just want to be filled by Johnny, Johnny, Johnny—his name like a chanted prayer in your mind. 

You at least have the sense of mind to focus when you need to, but at any idle moment, Johnny crawls back into your brain. Your mind drifts to wondering what he's up to, wondering where in the world they've shipped him off to this time—what timezone is he even in? What hemisphere? 

5 p.m. comes round sooner than you expect, and you find yourself logging off from your work laptop with a relieved sigh. You might be exhausted from lack of sleep, but Johnny's arrival in your life left you energised in a way you hadn't felt in so long. Every part of you hums with excitement, thinking about what the future might hold. 

You have to keep snapping yourself out of getting lost in the fantasy, even as you find yourself rereading through texts and committing Johnny's words to memory. The last time you did this still sticks in the back of your mind, still stings—someone who came into your life and was everything until they were nothing. Someone who said they could be trusted as they broke down your barriers. 

The aching loneliness was too much, so you'd run from it straight into something worse, not even realising how easily you fell into the trap. 

Your thoughts were spiraling, and you needed a distraction, so you put on the TV in the hopes of getting lost in the shitty reality dating show you've been watching lately. 

A few hours later, the buzz of your phone pulls you from the drama of the screen—your spirits soaring as you see the little icon you're rapidly growing attached to. 

Evening bonnie, hope you're not napping too close to bed time. 

hi!! no... for once, lol. how was your day? 

Long, but thoughts of you got me through ;) how was yours? 

The rapid responses mean your smile never has time to waver, as your eyes are glued to the screen watching as the messages are read, the app tells you he is typing and then another one of his messages appears. 

Your fingers fly across the keyboard as you eagerly respond.

somehow managed to not fall asleep at my desk, i would've napped but... 

But? 

didn't want to risk missing any messages from you. 

Johnny heart reacts to the message immediately. 

Call? 

please!!! 

Mere seconds later, his face fills the screen once more, and your sheer excitement overtakes your nerves by far.

"Hi." You say shyly, as soon as you accept the call.

"Hi bonnie, gotcha on loudspeaker by the way." He greets you, his voice immediately sending warmth through you. 

You were rapidly growing obsessed with his terms of endearment, too. 

"Oh." You pause, suddenly self-conscious and hesitant. "Are you not alone?" Does anyone in his life even know you exist? You know you haven't really mentioned to your friends that you're 'dating' again.

"Definitely am, don't worry. Jus' need ma hands free." 

At that, your brow furrows, your voice filling with both mischief and disbelief. "What are you doing, Johnny?" 

He chuckles, before rustling some papers around. "Paperwork, nothing fun." 

Even hearing the word paperwork right now drains you, and can hear that Johnny isn't exactly pleased with the idea either. 

"Wishing I was under the desk again?" You ask, hoping your playful tone will make him smile. 

"Dinnae start." He groans. "What are you doing? Have you eaten?" 

"Not yet, I need to check my milk is still in date." You throw yourself off the sofa and make your way through to the kitchen—it's a good job Johnny actually poked you to eat. 

"Milk?" His voice is filled with confusion.

"For cereal." 

"Ach." 

"I can feel your disapproval from here." You can practically sense him shaking his head disapprovingly too. 

"Good, I see how this gonae be." He sighs, the disappointment evident, along with that sense of control, guidance. 

It just makes you tingle.

"Yes, daddy?" You giggle audaciously like you know exactly what you're doing, and hope it has the effect you want it to.

Johnny chokes, and then growls... and then sighs. "Away n bile yer heid." He whispers, yet he sounds anything but angry, his voice thick with arousal as he undoubtedly fights all kinds of urges. 

You want to take that step with Johnny, to dirty talk with him now that you feel comfortable, but you suppose now isn't the time—after all, he is still working. 

"I'm being mean now, sorry." 

"A right brat." He growls playfully. "Do something for me, lass?" 

The shift in his tone and the previous conversation topic gives you a good guess at what's coming next. "Is it cooking a real meal?" You groan playing into the role.

Well, admittedly committing to self-care tasks like cooking isn't the easiest thing in the world, and having someone to guide you in that is... a turn-on. 

"Knew you were a smart girl." He purrs, and those words turn your brain and your body to mush. 

You have to stifle a whine from leaving you, as your face flushes furiously. Oh, how you wish you could hear that over and over again—in that voice, with that accent, whispered right in your ear as he—

"What you gonna cook?" He asks, interrupting your rapidly spiraling thoughts. 

Staring into the fridge is a depressing experience—the shelves are mostly bare and there's a faint smell of something off. "Ugh, I don't have a lot in, to be honest." 

"Logging onto the Tesco website now, or maybe meal delivery service..." He muses, and you can imagine the smirk on his lips.

"Johnny!" Your protest is weak, as the coddling and infantalisation make you feel something you probably shouldn't. 

He snickers at your tone, but he knows now that if things are to continue, he won't listen to your objections. "Jokin'... for now. Talk me through yer fridge, lass." 

"Do you cook?" You ask, wondering if he's going to magically talk you through a recipe with the condiments in your fridge and the dried pasta in the pantry. 

There's a beat of silence. "Not often." 

You're overcome with a fit of giggles and a wave of faux offense. "Then who are you to lecture me?" 

Johnny meets your exclamation with a series of tuts, which already quiet your discontent, but you find yourself ruined when his voice drops and he delivers his next few words. "What happened to 'Johnny knows best'?" 

Fuck him, using his powers for good—and you can already tell he's getting off on it too. Today, you won't indulge him by submissively repeating it back, since he's making you face the horror that is cooking.

"Fine." You sigh, looking for what items in the fridge that are actually still in date. You pull open a cupboard or two as well. "I have... hummus and celery and uh, supernoodles in the cupboard." 

"Better than cereal." He waits for your response that doesn't come, as you pout on the end of the phone, and then he plays his next move flawlessly.  "For me, bonnie girl?" 

The plea in his voice makes you melt, makes you want to do just about anything for him. 

"For you." You say with a smile, grabbing the packets of noodles and a saucepan. "Have you eaten?" 

"A have, chicken tikka masala." 

You sigh, knowing that if not for Johnny you could've ordered a nice Indian for yourself—you get to work on the noodles anyway. "Kinda jealous now, if I'm honest."

His laugh is short but earnest. "Same, haven't had beefy supernoodles in an age." 

"Yeah, I would hope they're feeding you actually decent, nutritious food over there." 

He huffs. "I would hope you're feeding yerself decent food, but here we are." That playful judgement is back, lacing his words and making you crave his approval. 

It's a startling thought, that here you are, only a few days in and needing his praise, his encouragement—you suppose it comes easy as it plays into both of your natural instincts—his to lead, yours to follow.

"Less sass, more... paperwork." You grumble playfully, trying to cover up the fact that, maybe, you like being teased by him. 

"Aye." He laughs, and you can briefly hear him scribbling in the silence.  

For a few moments, it's just the sound of him writing and you cooking, but the quiet feels comfortable rather than awkward—strangely routine and domestic after such a short space of time. 

Your mind wanders back to what the two of you had discussed last night, about his day later in the week. "Have you thought more about Friday?" 

There's a brief shuffle and the sound of the call changes as Johnny seems to take you off the loudspeaker and moves around. "Meetin' you?" 

"Yeah." There's a sense of nervousness within you, a fear he's going to suddenly decide that he doesn't want to see you after all, that he doesn't see this going anywhere. It's so soon, and yet the thought seems crushing. 

"Haven't thought of much else." His confession seems to settle your rapidly beating heart just a little, the sincerity in his voice making your stomach twist and turn. 

Maybe you shouldn't push it, but you want to meet him more than anything, so you can make the first step toward all of this becoming real. "Would you be up for coffee? I can come to you!" 

"About that..." His sigh is weary, and panic overtakes you as the silence stretches on. "Am leaving for a week or so." 

It's not a total rejection at least, but somehow it still stings, still settles heavy and unpleasant in your gut. "When?" 

"Tomorrow." He falls silent, waiting for you to say something, yet you don't know what words to even summon right now. "'m sorry, lass." 

You take a deep breath for a moment, collecting your thoughts as you stir your noodles and try to put everything you feel into some sort of coherent order. 

There's no logical reason to feel rejected, as it's not that he doesn't want the date, but that he can't. Perhaps it's that lingering thought that this kind of thing will be a frequent occurrence—it's just a small taste of what's to come. But wanting Johnny means handling this, like he deserves. 

You push through the discomfort and force yourself into a more positive mindset.

"But... after that? Or is this just because you hate coffee so much you're fleeing the country?" You laugh softly, hoping the joke will lighten the thick atmosphere. 

"Now, if you'd asked me out for tea..." He laughs in return, before turning serious. "But... when I'm back, I'd love to see you. Have ta, really. " 

"I'm glad." The beaming smile on your face is ridiculous, and you're so thankful he can't see you grinning like an idiot at his words. He has to meet you. 

With your cooking complete, you take the saucepan off the stove and pour the noodles into a bowl, grabbing it before returning to the comfort of the couch. "Okay, noodles done." 

"Wanna call me back once yer done, or?" 

Fuck, he's so considerate. 

You hum negatively as you start to blow on the noodles to cool them. "I'll eat on the phone if you don't mind the sound of me slurping." 

Johnny chuckles, before making a suggestive noise. 

"The noodles, Johnny." 

He coughs, covering more juvenile laughter. "Aye, the noodles, of course." 

"So... going anywhere fun?" You ask, referencing his upcoming deployment. 

"Classified, I'm afraid." He answers curtly, but you know it's nothing more than his duty. 

No questions about that, then, you suppose. It's going to be a strange thing to adjust to, but it's another thing that comes along with accepting Johnny into your life. You change your line of questioning, hopefully to something he can answer. "Are you... scared?" 

"No." He answers quickly and firmly, in a manner that suggests certainty rather than bravado. "Don't worry about me, hen." He rushes to add.

"Kinda hard not to, even if we only just met..." You sigh, but you suppose you have to trust Johnny's skills and training. "I imagine it only gets more intense from here." 

The admission feels like a swift kick to the stomach. 

"Yeah..." You hear a knock on the door from Johnny's end, and he swears colourfully under his breath. "Ach, can I call yer back?" 

It's almost cruel the way such timing drives the point home. 

"Sure, things to attend to?" You ask absentmindedly, not really expecting an answer. 

He sighs, before trying to turn his tone more positive. "Aye, but I'll catch you before bed, yeah?" 

"Yeah. Bye, Johnny." 

"Bye, lass." 

He ends the call, leaving you with your meal and your thoughts. 

Maybe you aren't strong enough to deal with this after all, you think, trying to settle the ugly, gnawing feeling inside you. It already hurts, but maybe that's because you're trying to hold so tight onto something intangible. Maybe if you and Johnny become something, mean something to each other, it'll all be easier to deal with. 

It's an hour or so later when you're tucked up in bed that Johnny's call lights up your phone. You pick it up instantly. 

"Hey, glad you haven't fallen asleep already." He chuckles, his voice softer than before. 

"Mmm, still hanging on." You mumble, cheek pressed into plushness and tiredness lingering at the back of your mind, as well as the mess of feelings that still simmers within you. 

"Cuddled up with the big B?" He asks, voice cheeky and charming. 

You can't help the soft giggle at the ridiculous nickname. "The big B?!"

"Barnaby!" He clarifies with a hearty laugh, not ashamed at all of his goofiness. 

"The big B! That's so silly" 

The laughs quiet, and another silence falls, but this time you feel the discomfort that comes with it. 

Johnny is the first to breach it, his tone tinged with worry. "How are yer?"

"I'm fine." You sigh, not wanting to elaborate and get yourself upset again. It's not far from the truth. Nothing has changed, but this is something you have to learn to sit with, have to make peace with for both of your sake. 

Johnny cuts right through the noise. "Yer seemed a little upset earlier. Wanna talk about it?" 

Communication—the key to any good relationship, an essential to any kinky one, and one thing you think you really kind of suck at. 

It's a simple sentence with a simple answer, and nothing about Johnny suggests that his reaction will be anything other than supportive—but it's not Johnny's voice that whispers cruel things in the back of your head. And for now, Johnny's influence is not enough to quiet the storm. 

The fear grips at your heart, stops your words right in your throat, but your mind wars between the ghosts of your past and the duty of your present and future. 

Johnny waits quietly, not pushing you for an answer or assuming how you feel, and that small act helps pull you out of the fog and helps you force yourself to speak. 

"Reality setting in, I guess." The words don't come easy at first, your throat tight—but once you start, the rest just seems to flow, taking the weight of your burdens with them. "Like, it's not too bad right now, it's just... knowing what's in store? Assuming we keep talking." 

The opportunity to really put your thoughts in order and get them out actually does help, surprisingly.

Johnny goes silent for a moment, considering your words before he speaks. "If you wanna stop—" 

"I don't." You feel bad for interrupting him, but you already know that's not what you want, even if he sees it as a kindness. "Like I said yesterday, I'm not faint-hearted... the intensity just took me by surprise. All of this has, really." 

"I'm with you there. Sat here thinking about how I'm gonna be thinking of anything else when I'm on the mission." He laughs softly, the sound laden with emotion. "Lt's gonna have my head." 

The gravity of his job sinks in now, with the realisation that he will be busy and focused, and rightfully so.

"Will you be able to get in touch while you're gone?" You ask, more for informational purposes, rather than being unable to last a week without hearing his voice. 

"Not a whole lot, no. Sometimes no' at all, but I'll let you know when I can." He states plainly, and the honesty is so refreshing. 

"I'll try not to bother you too much then." You giggle, though you don't really mean your words. He has his mission, and you have yours—stay strong while he's gone. 

He scoffs instantly. "You? A bother? Never." 

You hum, continuing with your playful statements. "You haven't seen me when I'm clingy." 

"A like clingy, am clingy too." 

Ugh, just when you think he can't be more perfect, he comes out with that. The sweet smile on your face is relentless, and you just know the same is true for him too. "Oh yeah? So you won't be complaining when we meet, and I just take a hold of your hand and don't let go." 

His barked laugh is so genuine that it makes your heart sing. "Bold of yer to assume I'd be letting you go, lass." 

The thought of even his hand in yours is enough to send you into a frenzy—a simple, delicate, and chaste act, yet you crave it like nothing else. When your date finally does come around, you'll be able to touch him and see him up close. You'll be able to hear that voice and those words up close and unrestrained by the slightly shitty quality of the phone call—and that is a little terrifying.  

"I guess waiting isn't a bad thing after all, maybe I'll be less nervous by then." Because right now you know you'd hesitate to reach out and touch him, would struggle looking him in the eye for too long. Maybe if you wait, the radiance that is Johnny's warmth will wear off, but somehow you doubt it. 

"Why ya nervous?" 

You almost snort at such an oblivious question from such a seemingly smart man. "Have you seen you?" Have you talked to you? Been on the end of your affections? Your mind pleads. 

"See this ugly mug every day." He grumbles, though you can still hear the smile. 

"You can't see, but I'm rolling my eyes." You giggle. "But what if I just... can't resist you? Jump you right then and there?" Your voice takes on a more teasing tone. 

"In public?" He tuts, slow and sexy, his voice dropping low. "Naughty girl." 

You straight up whimper. "Needy girl, for you." 

A growl leaves his throat, along with a whispered "Fuck." 

Arousal floods through you, overtakes you, as you feel your mind slipping to a space of deep-seated need, all for him. You feel on fire, your skin hypersensitive to the brush of the sheets, as your lower body hums and begs for attention. No longer can you hold yourself back from falling under his sexy spell. "Your groans, your voice, it all drives me crazy." 

The laugh that leaves him is weaker, choked with arousal. "All wet fer me, bonnie?" His voice, now a touched graveled, wraps so wonderfully around every word. 

"Soaked." You squirm in place, not even needing to feel to know just how dripping you are—every time he teases you, you practically gush. Your spare hand dives below the sheets, tracing ever so slightly over your stomach as it crawls lower. "Johnny?" 

"Yes, bonnie?" It sounds like his control is wavering too. 

"Please can I touch? I need it so bad." You whine and plead, surrendering yourself to Johnny's command. 

"You don't—" Another growl leaves his throat, you hear him shuffle and when his voice returns, he sounds even more aroused than before—sweet, gentle domination drips from his tone. "Touch yerself, go on." 

You comply immediately, your hand diving under your waistband and zeroing in on your swollen clit—relief floods you the second you make contact, your fingers rubbing delicate swirls on your soaked nub as gentle moans force themselves free. 

"Oh fuck." Johnny's breathing is ragged between his groans. "Gonna have tae join ya." 

"Fuckfuckfuck." Your eyes slip shut as you imagine him reaching down to free his aching cock, all for you. Your thoughts center on conjuring up an image of how long and thick you imagine him to be. "Is... is your cock as big as the rest of you?" 

You squeak out your words while you still have command over the English language.

"Guess you'll find out soon enough." He chuckles breathlessly, some of the words catching in his throat as he clearly works himself. "But I don't think you'll be disappointed. I know how tae take care of yer, know you're already desperate for me." 

Your circles quicken, his words sending pleasure coursing through you in a way that almost feels better than your touch. You fill the air with breathy moans. "Need you, Johnny." 

"Need you too, pet." He growls his words over the building slick sound.

"Oh fuck." Your reaction is instant, the word sending everything in your brain into overdrive. Pet. Pet. You almost cum right then and there, but his assault on your senses and sensibilities continues. 

"God, thinking about you on the end of a leash for me? So fuckin' hard thinking about it." His voice modulates between and whine and a growl, his need growing furiously. "I'd be so fuckin' lucky." 

You imagine the collar slipping around your neck, imagine Johnny clicking shut a lock and attaching a leash—pulling you to him just as he is now with every word. 

"I'd be the most loyal pet ever, I swear." You start to babble, unable to hold back any longer on the wave of submission that overtakes you. "I'll Wait for you to come home, naked and kneeling with my leash ready." 

"Jesus, fuck." Each grunt that leaves him makes you shiver. Each word like its own bolt of electricity straight from his body to yours. "Yeah, my good girl would be so lost without me." He says it with such certainty, speaking the truth to life. 

"I get separation anxiety like mad. I'll miss your touch, miss your smell, miss your taste—" You cut yourself off with a high-pitched whine, your fingers working you so fucking close to the edge.

"Don't worry, I'd fuck you so good before I go bonnie, fill yer up and leave you dripping with me." His groans are accompanied by more of those slick sounds. "Mark that pretty neck o' yours, too." 

"I'm... I'm not gonna last." You admit, holding back even now from cumming—you crave his permission. 

"Me either. Go on, moan for me, let me hear you." He urges you gently, even if his voice is filled with need. 

You let all your noises flow freely as you teeter toward the edge and desperately try to please him with the sounds you make. It's all too good, too much, too overwhelming. 

"Johnny, can I—" 

His demand is out of his mouth before you can even finish your sentence. "Cum fer me, bonnie. Go on." 

You cum with a strangled cry, flying over the edge right as Johnny demands it. The build-up of the past few days along with Johnny's noises has you shaking in ecstasy—ecstasy that's only prolonged when he cums too with a long, drawn-out groan.

After a moment, the only sound is both of your heavy breathing, as you come down from your high. 

"Oh my god." You sigh, a silly, blissed-out grin overtaking your features.

"You okay, sweet girl?" His voice returns to that sweetness you're coming to know and love.

You nod mindlessly, even though he can't see you. "Better than okay, are you?" 

He hums in affirmation, before his voice turns a touch serious. "You did so good. Just want tae make sure you're good, and a didn't go too far." 

"Hah, I mean, nowhere near too far." You admit shakily. 

"Am glad, it's only early days, though. That trust..." He hesitates. 

"... It takes a while, yeah." The post-orgasmic bliss coupled with the feeling of that trust taking root and growing. "I'm glad you understand." 

And he understands perfectly, as you never feel pushed or rushed, only pampered and adored. 

"Of course... it's special, for both of us." He admits, and you know you're on the same wavelength when it comes to the bond and relationship between dominant and submissive. 

"Mhmm." You hum dreamily, wholeheartedly agreeing and yet not able to summon up something profound. 

"Already sleepy?" His laughter is soft and sincere. 

"I'd get so much rest if every night was like this." 

"Even more so when I finally get to fuck ya, bonnie." He whispers so casually, yet even after your orgasm your clit still thrums with interest—God, he has such a hold on you.

"Yeah?" You sigh, dreaming of the day you'll get to experience it. 

"Yeah." 

The line falls silent, and you feel yourself fading. 

"I'm sorry, I'm so... sleepy." You whisper while you still have the chance. 

"It's okay, sweet girl, close yer eyes. Am right here." Johnny's sweet voice lulls you closer and closer, and your phone falls free from your hand to your pillow, resting there with Johnny just on the end of the line. 

"Goodnight Johnny." You mumble, before sleep finally takes you.

"Goodnight, Bonnie." His reply is soft, carrying you off to unconsciousness as he drifts off too.  

-//-

Johnny practically vibrates where he stands—wired beyond belief. Part of it is his usual pre-mission adrenaline, but the events of the past few days especially almost have him climbing the walls. His energy is frenetic as usual but with so much more—lust, yearning, withdrawal. 

It's only been a few hours since he ended the call after waking up before you, and yet he finds his thoughts unable to leave you, even as he finishes gearing up. You'd love to see him like this, and an idea strikes him.

He pulls out his phone, turns to the man beside him, and hopes he doesn't regret asking. Then again, some ribbing from the masked man would be nothing compared to the floored reaction he'd get from you.

"Ghost?" He asks, piercing the comfortable silence between the two of them. 

"What?" Ghost turns, eyeing Johnny and his hand holding his outstretched phone.

Johnny doesn't waver, sure in his request, and eager to see your response. "Take a picture of me, yeah?" 

"Girl back home?" Ghost asks, cutting straight to the point as he takes the phone. "Is this the first time she's seeing you? Cause you look fuckin' rough." 

"No." Johnny frowns, and worry washes over him. Surely Lt. is just messing him around—he knows she'll be happy to see him either way. 

Ghost pulls off a glove and navigates to the camera before stepping back and holding up the phone in Johnny's direction. He might be giving Johnny shit, but he at least takes the time to angle and position the frame in a way that compliments Johnny's stature. "She like the tac gear?" 

Johnny sighs, wishing this was over already. "Just take the picture, Ghost." 

"Say cheese." Ghost deadpans, and the softest of smiles graces Johnny's features—for her, not for him.

Johnny practically snatches the phone back from Ghost's hands, checking out the photo immediately. "Thanks." 

He pulls up their messages immediately, firing off the picture with a kissing face and a teasing message just for her. 

When he locks the phone and throws it in his bag, Ghost's eyes are fixed on him, his blackened eyes narrowed.

"Mind on the mission, yeah, Johnny?" 

Johnny nods, doing his best to push thoughts of her away for now, and letting his inner soldier take over. He'll be back to her before he knows it. "Aye, Lt." 

Days later, and after a successful first phase of the mission, Johnny stares down at his phone. The signal is nonexistent and won't return for a while, but he misses you, his mind is itching with his need for you. In this shitty safe house in the middle of nowhere, while someone else is on watch, there's very little to do, and truly nothing else he'd rather think about. 

He scrolls to the top of your messages, rereading each message and reliving each conversation, experiencing all over again how each message made him feel. 

Your sweet texts, your copious use of emojis, and your cute little selfies—it was all so intoxicating to him. For a man who was so used to maintaining focus, you were a fucking curveball. Something about you just sends his protective instincts into overdrive, makes unearned possessive tendrils curl up through him and around his heart—calls out to his guiding, dominant, caring side.

He has to constantly stamp down the thoughts inside that called out to him to find you, scoop you up, and take you home with him. Luckily for you both, Johnny is a patient man. He spends time out in the field waiting days for anything interesting to happen, he's spent years waiting for his pet, his girl to come along—and you're right there. He can wait a little longer. 

He holds down the record button, intent on recording a message for you, and begins whispering into the phone.

"Hi, been sat on my arse for far too long with nothing to do but think of you. Dinnae think I'll get signal anytime soon, but I 'spose it'll send at some point." He feels himself relax just a little as he falls into Johnny, the man—rather than Soap, the soldier.

"Been thinking about our first date, since you mentioned coffee. Kinda had a crazy idea actually, but I need your input. What about a cat café? Has to be one in that city o' yours, and I figure you must like kitties."

"Won't be long until you might be one for me... or a bunny... or a puppy." He interrupts himself with a sigh.

"Need tae stop those thoughts and quit while I'm ahead. Let me know, yeah? As soon as I get my leave, we'll set it up."

"Talk soon, bonnie." 

[turtleblogatlast]

Imagine the boys getting cursed to bear witness to “some of the most negatively impactful things in their lives” and they’re terrified, thinking it’ll be stuff like the invasion or Shredder or something-

Only to be met with multiple scenarios of their family. Saying offhand, but hurtful things. Doing hurtful things. Lots of scenarios that were inconsequential to everyone but the one most affected.

And they’re all scrambling, desperate to make sure the others don’t look too deep into it haha it doesn’t really bother them- but they all know the truth. Because they’re all in the same position here. It wasn’t on purpose, and they all know it wasn’t on purpose, but it still hurts.

It’s almost a relief, that they’re going through it all together. That they can apologize for mistakes, and accept that they’ve held onto hurt too long when they could have dealt with it sooner.

And that’s how they break the curse, reversing it into something different, as they’re told that before it leaves them for good they’ll bear witness to the most positively impactful things in their lives. And now they think they’ll see some of their best victories, some of their grandest adventures-

The scenes they see then are of the same cloth as their negative ones. Simple scenes, ones that most wouldn’t remember. Times where someone managed to make someone else smile, times where they were just so content to exist by the other’s side, times where they were just happy being there with their brothers, their family.

It’s the little things that go the farthest, because that’s what you experience the most in life. And they’ll mess up again, of course. Things happen, and they’ll never really know how their actions and words will be taken. But through the good and the bad, they’re family.

Besides - turns out, there’s a lot more good.

[fleur-a-whump]

Overloaded (#2)

late night sparks

guys guess what!! little villain guy has a name!! it’s Jasper and we love him dearly. also team leader’s got a name too, it’s Miguel, but we don’t really care about him because he’s a bitch. plus new character reveal: Chase, a teammate. he is also, unsurprisingly, a bitch.

Content: ex-villain whumpee, hero/leader whumper, manipulative whumper, collars, electrocution (for realsies this time), implied referenced abuse of a minor, referenced bullying, bad team dynamics, adult language

in which Miguel gets worse. takes place probably a few months after "preventative measures"

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jasper's back was sore. And his arms. And his everything.

He sat kneeling on the kitchen floor, determinately ignoring the pins and needles that pricked at his calves. He couldn't stop, couldn't take a break till the floor was spotless. Chase had once again threatened some mixture of violence and telling on him to Miguel for insubordination if he didn't do the man's chores. 

Big man-child, Jasper thought bitterly.

So, here he was, scrubbing well past midnight, after having spent the day straining his powers in the lab and doing his own chores. 

Jasper sat back to indulge a long, dramatic yawn. He nearly jumps out of his skin when an impatient ahem cuts through the previously dead silent kitchen. His bleary eyes take several long moments to focus on Miguel, leaning against the doorway. The hero would look casual if it weren’t for the peeved look on his face. Jasper’s stomach does a somersault.

Sheepish, Jasper drawls, “Heyyy, Miguel…”

Miguel is not amused. “What the fuck are you doing out here,” he snaps.

Jasper squeezes his hands into fists to quell the tremors. He stutters, “J-just cleaning.”

The villain can hardly finish the statement before the unsettling and painful electricity of the collar arcs through him. His muscles seize and ache and burn and it feels like death and he can't breathe—

Just as quickly as it began, the electricity stops. He gasps and collapses to the side, just barely able to catch himself on his forearm. Small, choked-off whimpers escape him as he tries to catch his breath and keep his volume to a minimum. His father never liked to hear him whine.

Jasper continues to shudder as his powers go haywire. The typically comforting restless skittering of his own electricity under his skin now burns as it travels across the newly fried neurons. More than that, it feels wrong for such a core part of his being to cause him pain. The feeling is everywhere, from the tip of his nose to his toes, and it is everything. Little sparks and crackles of energy fly from his shaking hands as it becomes too painful to completely contain his powers. Simply existing—not to mention actually using his powers—will be painful while his body tries to recover from the unnaturally strong current, engineered just for him.

As his body gradually backs down from its state of panic, ire at the punishment surges within him. The hero didn’t even let him explain. It was Chase who ordered him to do his chores; ordered him to not leave this room until it was spotless.

“I was just following orders!” he bursts.

Oh shit.

A quick glance at Miguel and his quirked eyebrow lets him know just how badly he just fucked up. And even if it didn't, the second burst of electricity from the collar definitely spells it out for him.

A guttural groan escapes his clenched teeth as he feels the current worm its way through his neurons, igniting them. The burning, all-encompassing pain is all he knows. Spots cloud his vision. Seconds feel like minutes, feel like hours, feel like eternity, until he wonders if that's all he'll ever feel. Nothing but the gut-wrenching pain of his greatest gift, so deeply intertwined with his being, turned against him and ripping him apart from the inside out. 

And then, it stops.

Jasper’s body fully gives out this time, his chin bouncing off the tile and teeth clacking painfully. He's a pitiful mess of useless limbs. His muscles feel like jelly and yet are still forced to endure the waves of aftershock, twitching and spasming irregularly. Each movement is agony.

He gulps oxygen, having still been out of breath from the first shock. He can hardly hear his own moans and whimpers bouncing around the kitchen with each breath over the ringing in his ears, and he has zero energy to control them this time.

A hand lands on his shoulder, and he can't help the delayed but violent flinch that ripples through him. But the hand is soft, gentle, as it pulls him to lie on his back. It guides his hand to rest on someone's chest, to follow as it rises and falls rhythmically. He latches onto it, using it as a guide to breathe and bring himself back to reality. Another hand gently cards through his loose curls as he works to steady his breathing and his vision clears. If he eagerly leans into the gentle touch, well, he can blame it on his delirious state.

When Miguel's face finally comes into focus above him, a shiver runs through him, and he averts his gaze. He'll blame that on his still-spasming muscles.

Miguel’s soft voice calls for his attention again. He focuses back on his leader’s face, haloed above him by the bright kitchen lights.

“There you are. You're alright, it's okay,” he soothes.

The hero lets Jasper relish the contact a moment longer before gently returning his hand to his own chest.

Jasper swallows the whimper at the loss.

Miguel lets out a long-suffering sigh. It gives Jasper whiplash how suddenly the familiar weight of anxiety settles back in his chest.

“I don't like doing that, man. You know better than to be in the common areas after your curfew, and you definitely know better than to talk back, bud. I don't wanna have to punish you, but the rules are rules for a reason. Yeah, they're to protect the team, but they're also to protect you. What if you'd had another episode with your powers?”

He decidedly doesn’t think about the ‘episodes’ Miguel is referring to. Still, the disappointment in his savior's voice hurt almost as much as the electricity. His eyes flood with tears as guilt settles like a rock in his stomach. The hero was right. He knew the rules, and he agreed to them. Anything to stay. Anything to be good.

His voice breaks, small and shaky, as he says, “I-I'm really s-sorry, Mig-guel.”

The villain’s not one hundred percent sure what exactly he's sorry for, but, fuck, is he sorry.

“Okay, that's alright, don't cry. I think you've learned your lesson. You're fine.” 

The words should be comforting. The edge to his tone, however, is not. Jasper blinks hard to clear the tears, not wanting to annoy him. That was another thing his father didn't like.

Miguel brings him back to the present, asking, “Why are you cleaning the floor anyways? That's not on your list for this week.”

Jasper swallows hard past the lump still in his throat. He’s afraid of what Chase will do to him if he tells Miguel and Miguel decides he doesn’t like that. However, he’s more “Chase s-said I should be busy all the t-time to k-keep me out of trouble…”

Miguel hums in thought, ever casual as Jasper trembles on the floor below of him. 

“I actually like that idea. We wouldn't want you getting bored. You'd be helping the team out a lot too, taking some work off our plates so we can train more. I'll work on the new chore schedule in the morning.”

Jasper bit his lip. He could read between the lines.

“A-and, my training?”

“We can reduce it some,” Miguel says, thoughtful. “I know you've been struggling to keep up.”

He makes it sound like a kindness, voice full of sympathy. No matter how gentle the tone, Jasper has to blink the tears from his eyes again. He knew he wasn't the strongest or the most capable, but that was the point of training. He'd never be good enough to redeem himself without the chance to train.

Miguel sighs again and stands. He suddenly reaches towards him. Jasper has to carefully control the urge to flinch, not knowing what to expect from the movement. He never knows what to expect.

Miguel simply holds it out towards him, however, expectantly. It takes Jasper a moment to realize he's trying to help him up. He takes the hand after that moment's hesitation and wavers on unsteady feet as the blood finally rushes back into his legs. He blinks spots from his vision, gripping Miguel for dear life until he's sure he's not going to pass out.

The hero gives him an easy smile, clapping a hand on his shoulder just a bit too hard. He nudges him in the direction of the bedrooms.

“You look tired, man. I think it's time for bed,” he all but coos.

It sounds like a caring gesture, or at the very least a joke. Jasper knows it's an order.

He dutifully mumbles, “Goodnight,” before making his way to the door slowly. He knows he probably looks like a newborn fawn as his jittery body tries to carry him to his bed.

“And Jasper?”

A slight jolt of anxiety stops him as he turns back to his leader.

“If I catch you out past curfew again, we're going to have an issue worth more than a little jolt, understand?”

“Yes, sir,” the villain says, too tired to bite back the honorific once totally engrained in him.

He doesn't notice the way Miguel preens at the submission.

“Attaboy, Jasper. Goodnight.”

The praise rings hollow after the night's events, but as he makes his way back to his room, dead on his feet, he allows the praise to warm him. 

He'll take what he can get.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

jasper doesn't deserve this :( but he will get more >:)

tags!! lmk if you wanna be added (or removed, I added some extra people)!!

@whumpsday

@sergeant-jasper (yo i didn't even realize lol)

@watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

@crystalrose141

@aloafofbreadwithanxiety

@paingoes

@elizaisnotokay

@quaggasus

[mizartz]

the child king

[hazyla]

Whaaa I made an mcd aph design against my better judgement

[toyybox]

It’s everyone’s favourite angel, Onyx from The Winged Servant by @rainbowsandwhumperflies 💝 He’s so cute I love him, go read TWS now!!

[yeyinde]

overeager slutpuppy reader and dog trainer Ghost is all i can think about tbh

[cozmos-artz]

i used to be so hot for him back in the day y’all don’t even know

[leavingautumn13]

people who don't know them sometimes jump to conclusions about diamond city's detective duo.

closeups under the cut

[werewolfbarista]

new collar from @sabretoothleather !!!!! im obsessed with this thing it's so cool and it fits so well and it was also super affordable ($50 before shipping, $60 for me) . it will definitely protect me from coyotes, on account of the Spikes

[olliepurples]

my personal take on neal and keller is that they had this weird situationship for a while that they did not talk about and when they broke it off neal moved on but keller didn't. he was more invested than he thought and in his mind things would just go on the way they were forever.