#this silver fucker has possessed me

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

i still love my other babies [kcs] BUT THESE TWO FUCKERS [Celia & Cecio] HAVE A IRON FUCKING HOLD ON ME RN [Elena does too but i have no issues with that<3333 arty plant sapphic<33 who is up for murder<33]

tbh Cecios the one that grabs me and tells me to draw him. MY GUY I AM TRYING TO WRITE YOUR FUCKING WOTR FIC AND DO YOUR PLAY-THROUGH. but hes all 'no draw me looking pretty' and i fucking do. clown ass shit.

[alieinthemorning]

Hello! May I send a request for Twisted Wonderland?

Leona and Malleus specifically, reacting to a Gender Neutral Reader with the power of a empathic healer, meaning they can heal people by taking their injuries and placing them on themselves? They used this power very often due to them hating to see people hurt when they can help?

Thank you!

For Thee, Not for Me [Leona Kingscholar || Malleus Draconia]

Content: Blood and Injury, Reader has a Unique Magic | Signature Spells, Strong Language, Inappropriate Use of Unique Magic | Signature Spells, Can Be Read as Platonic or Romantic, Angst 

Pronouns: None

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don't forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

You liked Magishift. It was a fast-paced game that if you weren’t paying close attention to, you'd miss a play that would have the disc in the other team’s possession. You liked it so much that you usually sat in for the Magishift club’s practice. 

Well, that wasn’t the full truth. The reason why you sat in on so many practices, mainly the practice matches, was because you were their self-imposed medic. Most of the time you dealt with injuries that could be resolved with a med-kit, other times you needed to use healing magics.

Then there were days like these,

“Worry not, there’s nothing for you to abide by. Leave all your worries to me. For Me, Not Thee.”

You didn’t even flinch as the deep gash along Epel’s forehead (and other more minor injuries) transferred from him to you. Instead, you immediately placed a hand to your temple, the ever so familiar tingle thrumming against your skin.  

You turned to the student who had caused the injury. “I would say be more careful, but that was obviously on purpose.” Your tone was flat, and your eyes were somewhat narrowed. 

You weren’t really mad, mainly disappointed. You hated when they got like this, when one of them felt like another was doing better, so they needed to sabotage in order to feel better about themselves. 

His lips curled back, obviously surprised that you had the audacity to call him out on his shit. “What the fuck do you know—”

“More than you, obviously.” Leona cut him off as he approached. “If you can’t keep your shit together, then you can go. Don’t need no pussy-footed fuckers on the team.” Despite the vulgarity of his words, his look was something else entirely. Full authority, no room for negotiation. 

That student has lost his position on the team. 

You sighed internally, knowing that this would cause more problems for you in the long run. 

Then, after checking on you and Epel (and making sure Epel thanked you), Leona had practice continue as normal. While you just sat there healing your head wound. Once practice was over, you were escorted back to your dorm by Ruggie. You also found yourself in his company for the next two weeks.

You had to continuously bite your cheek to keep yourself from blurting out your appreciation, not only for him, but his Dorm Leader. 

On the days without Magshift practice, you found yourself under a large tree watching Sebek and Silver spar with their batons. You found their dedication to their Lord admirable, that even in a school of adolescents that held no worthy flame to the Prince of Briar Valley that they would so diligently practice the sword. 

However, yet again, you had another reason for watching them so closely.  

Because no matter how quick and calculated their strikes may be, accidents are always along the horizon. 

He didn’t make a sound, just dropped to one knee as he clutched his side. You were at his side in mere moments. 

“Worry not, there’s nothing for you to abide by. Leave all your worries to me. For Me, Not Thee.”

This time you did flinch as the injury transferred. You weren’t fully healed from Epel’s injury, alongside others, and taking a new, serious one so soon really affected you. You slammed your eyes shut and clapped a hand over your mouth, bile threatening its way up your throat. Thankfully, with a pair of hands to steady your swaying body and another to rub soothing circles along your back, you were able to weather that storm. 

However, even though you had begun the healing process, you had found yourself in a bit of a bind.

“Ah. I’ll have to ask a favor of the two of you.” You hated to do this, but you knew that you were in bad condition. “Could you help me back to my dorm?”

“Of course.” Silver said as he helped you to your feet, then slung your arm over his shoulders. 

Sebek was hovering at your other side, biting his lip harshly.

You smiled, “If you keep biting your lip like that, I’ll have to take that injury too, you know.” He stopped, but he was still frowning deeply. 

Ah. 

Out of all the people who hated when you used your Unique Magic like this, Sebek was one of your most vocal. So this blunder must really be hurting him. 

You frowned as well.

Oh, if only you could take away negative emotions as well. 

The return to your room was quiet and filled with plenty of quick glances. The long stares had died down after your second year. You had been dubbed “Healer” by your peers, and even the freshmen knew of you. Someone to go to if you were in danger. 

Once they had made sure you were fine and settled, they set to leave.

Or rather, Silver did. Sebek lingered at your bedside, working at his lower lip again. You sent Silver off, then waited for Sebek. 

He didn’t have much to say. “You cannot keep pushing yourself like this.” His voice was soft, yet firm. “When you fall, who attends to you?” 

You smiled, but didn’t respond. He had heard your answer before.

“As long as everyone else is safe” then I don’t matter.

You should have seen this coming. You knew that despite your new-found companionship, that there would always be someone lurking in the shadows. 

So when the sudden shove at your back forced you forward, you were only mildly surprised. 

Your brain had already begun listing all the injuries you could get from being pushed down the stairs, reacting immediately when one of many was obtained. 

You didn’t scream, just grunted as you tumbled to the landing, biting your lip as the splitting headache made its way between your eyes. 

The both of you were quiet. You focused on healing and him focused on your silent, unmoving body. Then there was a flash of green, a short shriek then nothing again because you had passed out at that point.

Although, one last thought you had before you relinquish your consciousness was: 

“I’m gonna punch the shit outta that fucker once I’m in the clear.”

World traveled fast at Night Raven College. Especially when he was hidden in what he would consider to be plain sight. And regardless of whispers, his ears were sharper than most. 

He didn’t even wait for them to leave before he emerged from his resting place and set out to find you. His pace quickened as more and more information slipped from loose lips. You had healed two major injuries within the past week, which meant you weren’t in the best shape. But what was worse, is that you were shoved down a flight of stairs.

By one of his own.

He was going to hold him, but not until after he checked on you.

“Why are you here.” He snarled upon arrival. 

Of all the people who could have been at your bedside, this was the one he was least expecting. 

The Horned-Bastard himself, Malleus fucking Draconia.

The lizard-fucker turned to face him, head slightly tilted to the side with a small grin. “Fixing another one of your messes, it seems.” 

Leona growled, taking a threatening step forward. Malleus’ grin grew wider. 

“If either of you start, I swear I will never heal you again.” You croaked from the bed, forcing yourself upright. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…” Leona groaned, wiping a hand down his face. He crossed the room, ignoring the horned-bastard. “Didn’t even lay hands on’em, and you’re already thinking about healing—you’re the one in bed, dumbass.” 

You sniffled. “It’s just a White Cold.” He rolled his eyes. Of course, you would get sick from over healing yourself. “I’ve already taken the medicine for it, so I should be fine in a day or two.” You smiled at him—the both of them. “Thanks for checking in on me, though.”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes again, just turned his back on you. “Why do I even bother…”

“Oh, if you’re gonna go now, can I ask you to do me a favor, Leona?” His ears perked up at that, you rarely asked for anything. “Could you handle the one from before? The pussy-footed fucker?”

“Snrk!” He slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle the laugh. He was not expecting you to say that. Once he regained himself, he answered. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about that. I was already headed that way.” As much as he disliked leaving you with Draconia, he had to make sure business was handled. 

And the business was handled well. 

A hand on the back of the neck. Magic cracking down the back.

“I am hunger. I am thirst. I am what robs you of tomorrow. King’s Roar.” 

“One wrong step, and I’ll put your remains in an hourglass.” Was the only thing he said to him before he let the pussy-footed fucker loose.

Someone removed themselves from the shadows with a sigh. “I’m sure you’re gonna ask me to keep an eye on him, right?”

“No. I want you to keep an eye on the Healer. Make friends.” He rolled his shoulders. “I’ll make sure to compensate you.” 

“Oh? Shishishi…aye, aye, sir!” Ruggie gave him a two finger salute before making his exit. 

Leona sighed. “I’m tired…”

Request complete! Thank you for requesting!

This was actually really fun to write, especially since I pushed myself to write at least 1,000 words. Well I actually wrote 1.5K!

Also please note that I call Spell Drive "Magishift" and I literally refuse to call it anything else.

This also very quickly became a Leona-centric thing (and also Sebek??? he had his little moment) instead of Leona and Malleus, but hey he at least showed up lmao.

Ko-Fi | Commission | Masterlist[Leona] | Masterlist[Malleus]

[nocompromise-noregrets]

d'you know what? it's TIME. Time for what? you ask. Well, my lovelies, it is time for me to finally commit to the internet the theory I've had for twenty years, since I spent the last three evenings watching the Extended Editions at the cinema and am finally possessed of the executive function to do something about it. You guys, I am convinced that Elladan, Elrohir and Glorfindel are in Return of the King, and here's why.

Firstly, the reforging the sword scene (for which several people very kindly indulged me last Innumerable Stars when I nominated 'the twins are the smiths who reforge the sword' as a worldbuilding tag):

Look (at 1:48), there's two of them, you can't clearly see both faces (so they might be identical, there's no proof otherwise), and I'm convinced the one whose face we can see is Jason Secto, who also played Orophin. This is significant because he's there in the coronation scene, and he's there twice. Look:

At 2:25, there he is on the right of the screen, at Arwen's left shoulder. Then at 2:52 he's behind her right shoulder and he has had no opportunity to move. The only explanation is that there's two of him. HAS to be the twins. (there are also two other, non-identical dark-haired Elves over Legolas' right shoulder just before Arwen appears, one of whom bears a passing resemblance to Jason Secto but isn't him, and is in the right position to be a placeholder for his second appearance, so I maintain my point. :D )

(as an aside, because I've seen some speculation that the twins are fraternal and therefore not identical, and so could be any of the Elves in that scene: while Tolkien doesn't use the word 'identical', the description of them in 'The Passing of the Grey Company' in The Return of the King is pretty unequivocal: "...two tall men, neither young nor old. So much alike were they, the sons of Elrond, that few could tell them apart; dark-haired, grey-eyed, and their faces elven-fair, clad alike in bright mail beneath cloaks of silver-grey.")

Meanwhile, also at 2:25 on the left of the screen, I am well aware that is Jarl Benzon who was on a trading card as Glorfindel (and is also seen walking ahead of Arwen's horse in the leaving-for-the-Grey-Havens scene), but I see you your Jarl Benzon and I raise you this incredibly smug-looking fucker behind Elrond's right shoulder:

This is Sandro Kopp, and I contend that there is nobody else that he could be than Mr I-Told-You-So-Not-By-The-Hand-Of-Man-I-Said-And-I-Was-RIGHT.

*insert guy-with-red-string-filled-pinboard.jpg here*

There. I rest my case. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[midwestmade29]

Mine🔥

Welp, make sure you’re seated for this one! I’m back to my smutty ways and let me tell ya, it feels good 😏 It’s been awhile since I’ve written something this spicy! Mr. Cage has that effect on me though 🫠

@madhatterbri @1dluver13xx

If you are not 18+ years old, PLEASE KEEP SCROLLING. Do not interact with this story.

Due to the explicit nature, this story is NSFW or minors.

Some topics/theme(s) of this story may not be suitable and/or triggering for some readers. Read at your own discretion.

Possessive male, foul language, intimidation, sexual dirty talk, and unprotected sex are a few things happening in the story.

May require a cold shower after reading

Word count: 1,929

Christian Cage knows no bounds when it comes to showing the world what’s his…

Christian was stuck in line at the front desk, waiting to check into the hotel. You stood in the lounge area not too far away with your suitcases, mindlessly scrolling through your phone. You didn’t even notice that someone had walked up to you until they cleared their throat, pulling your gaze away from your screen and onto them. “Hey beautiful, how are you? Name’s Alex. What’s yours?” he asked over confidently. “I’m fine, but I’m going to stop you right there and let you know that I’m not interested.” You stated firmly. “Aw, come on beautiful! Don’t be like that. Let me show you a good time, show you off and spoil you like a princess should be.” He continued. You rolled your eyes at his audacity, but that didn’t faze him. “I said I’m not interested. My boyfriend will be back any minute, so I suggest you move on to someone else before he gets here.” The douchebag didn’t heed your warning, only laughed mockingly. “Now princess, why would I give two shits about your boyfriend?” he asked at the completely wrong time because Christian walked up and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close. “Because I’m Christian fucking Cage. That’s why.”

The douchebag’s eyes grew to the size of silver dollars at Christian’s threatening tone. He raised his hands up in surrender and walked away as quickly as he could. It was no secret that Christian’s 6’1 toned frame was intimidating, but the scowl he often wore on his face and the “don’t fuck with me” aura that surrounded him made him come across even more menacing. Power and arrogance oozed from every pore of this man, especially when someone tried to mess with his girl. Christian drew your body closer and nuzzled his face up against yours. His beard was bristly against your soft skin, but you loved the way it felt as it skimmed over your cheek. He placed his lips right next to your ear and growled “That stupid fucker is lucky there are other people around or else I would’ve knocked all his teeth out and given them to Danhausen for Christmas.” You knew he was serious about knocking the guy’s teeth out, but the part about Danhausen made you to giggle, ultimately allowing Christian to relax a little at the sound of it. He kissed you fiercely for everyone around to see, publicly claiming you as his.

When the two of you came up for air, Christian grabbed your hand and walked you both in the direction of the front desk. “What are we doing? I thought you already checked in?” you asked. “I did, but I need to change something about our room arrangement.” He replied with a wicked gleam in his eye. Once the front desk agent greeted Christian, he really played up to them with his charm and cunningness in order to get exactly what he was wanting. “I am needing to change rooms. Do you see that gentleman sitting at the bar? I’d like a room directly next to his. I know this isn’t a normal request, but I really need it to transpire.” The agent looked at Christian uncertainly, clearly conflicted about what to do. “Yes, that is Mr. Thompson. He’s a frequent guest here. Are you an acquaintance of his?” they inquired. “I guess you could say that.” Christian shrugged. “I’m willing to pay for any inconvenience this causes the hotel or occupants already in the room. Money is not an issue. If there are guests staying there, upgrade them to something better and put it on my bill.” Your jaw dropped and so many thoughts were running through your mind. You had no idea why Christian had the sudden urge to change rooms, but with the vindictive look on his face, you knew he was up to no good.

The front desk agent eventually gave in to Christian’s charisma and agreed to do the room swap. He assured them that there was no ill intent behind his reasonings, just made up a random story about how they both work for the same company and that it would be easier to conduct their business with adjacent rooms. The guests who were in the room next to Alex’s were more than happy to vacate it when they were offered a suite on a different floor and 2 free massages at the hotel spa. Christian didn’t even question how much the new arrangements were costing him, he just slid his credit card across the counter. “Thank you, Mr. Cage. Here are your new room keys. You’re now on the 16th floor and you’ll take those elevators down the hall on the right. Enjoy your new room, and if there’s anything else you require, please don’t hesitate to reach out!” the agent said pleasantly. Christian nodded and held your hand once again as the two of you pulled your suitcases to the elevator and rode it up to your floor. “What the hell was that all about? Why would you want our room to be next to that creep?” you asked perplexed. “I can only imagine how much that suite the other guests were upgraded to cost you. Not to mention the massages!” Christian pressed the key card on the reader and opened the door once the light turned green. “Every penny spent will be worth it once that fucker hears you screaming my name all night as I pound your pussy into the mattress.”

It thrilled you seeing Christian jealous and possessive like this. It made you feel desired and like you’re a fucking goddess! The longer you thought about Christian’s scheme, the more everything else became cloudy. You had a one-track mind now that was focused solely on your primal craving for Christian. Your body flushed a beautiful shade of pink as you felt your arousal blossom, lust surging through every fiber of your being. Your heart hammered against your chest as Christian walked over to you. “You like it, don’t you?” he asked in an insinuating tone. His fingers toyed with a strand of your hair as he waited for your answer. You took the bait and asked, “What do I like?” Christian smiled at you as he pressed forward, causing you to back up until your legs brushed against the mattress. In one swift move, he wrapped his arm around your waist and slowly laid you down on the bed, his body now hovering above yours. In a controlled tone, Christian answered, “You like the thought of that asshole hearing us fuck. You like the idea of me buried deep inside of you, claiming your sweetness as mine. I’m going to make him regret ever laying eyes on what’s mine.” As soon as the words left Christian’s lips, someone opened and closed the door to the room beside yours. He sat back on his heels, sliding his jacket down his toned arms while smiling devilishly. “It seems like Mr. Thompson has a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time today.”

Christian pulled his turtleneck over his head, revealing his delicious, sculpted abdomen. His hands moved to his belt buckle, undoing it painstakingly slow as you watched from beneath him. You eyed him hungrily as if you hadn’t eaten in days and he was the only thing to satisfy your cravings. As he stood, his pants fell to the floor and his boxer briefs followed suit, allowing his hard length to spring free. He removed your pants swiftly as you shimmied free from them and took notice of how wet your panties were after he slid them down your legs next. You couldn’t help but chuckle when Christian wrapped his hands around your calves and pulled so your bottom half was resting at the edge of the bed. When he separated your legs and stood in between them, you were more than ready to feel his body weight on yours and to take every inch of him inside of you. Once your shirt and bra were removed and tossed aside, Christian’s hard length brushed up against your sweetness making your muscles tighten like a coil that was desperate to come undone. “Mmm, you’re so wet for me. I’m going to make you feel so good baby.” He whispered against the valley of your collar bone. Christian nipped the delicate skin around your neck, kissing it immediately after to soothe the pinch. “Maybe I should bite harder and leave a mark. There would be no denying that you’re mine then.”

“Christian…” you purred against his lips before he kissed you, silencing any other words you wanted to say. When he reached between the two of you and grabbed hold of his length, he lined the tip up with your entrance and thrusted himself inside. He slid in and out with ease from your feverish arousal. “Fuck, you’re so tight baby. You stretch and fit around me so perfectly.” He groaned, savoring every sensation as your walls gripped and pulled him. Your body surged with want and need, aching for more. “Faster Christian! I want you to fuck me harder. Please!” you begged. Without hesitation, Christian picked up his pace, practically slamming himself into you. “Yes, Christian! Just like that!” you demanded. “Say it again baby. Scream my name for everyone to hear. Let them know how good you feel.” Christian growled through gritted teeth. “Oh shit, Christian!” you moaned. He kept up his pace fervently, each thrust bringing you one step closer to your sweet release. Your hands were tangled in the crisp white sheets as you grasped them and pulled, your eyes starting to skewer shut as pure ecstasy overcame you. “Cum for me baby. Let yourself go. I can feel your walls clenching around me” Christian encouraged.

You reached your fever pitch at Christian’s last words, your release imminent. “Fuck! Ah, Christian!” you cried out as you succumbed to him. Your body trembled as you came undone, every hair standing on end as the pleasure coursed through you. Christian’s release followed after yours, his breathing ragged as he came inside of you. You felt every drop seep into you the more his length pulsated against your walls. No words were able to be spoken yet as the two of you continued to come down from your high. Your bodies stayed connected until Christian found the strength to remove himself from you. As he pulled himself out, his warm seed began spilling from you, coating your thighs and your slit. Christian stood up on shaky legs, placing his hands on your knees for balance as he admired his handiwork that glistened all over your skin. You started to laugh at the thought of how horrified your neighbor must be now that he knows who is staying next door. Christian had turned his head to the side, listening for any reaction from the poor bastard that hit on his girl. Right on cue, a voice came through the space between your rooms, and you could hear Alex cursing before placing a phone call to the front desk. You could hear him angrily demand a new room, citing that his neighbors are animals and are causing a disturbance. You and Christian looked at each other and smiled, pleased with the commotion you caused.

“I think Mr. Thompson learned a valuable lesson today.” Christian stated. “Oh, yeah? And what lesson is that?” you asked. “What’s mine is mine.” He replied as he made his way between your legs once again.

(…hehehehehehehe is all I have left to say about this story 😈)

[strawbxrryanime]

silver fangs - possessive!bonten mikey sano/manjiro sano x male!reader

All eyes were on you at that party tonight. Everyone surrounds you and it's irritating your beloved. Bonten Mikey looked at you secretly with his dark scaled eyes, eyes all over you with a dark stare. How dare these people try to talk to his beloved, only he can, only he should. How dare they take such eyes on your beauty.

You were such a pretty boy to Bonten Mikey, the way he caresses your hair so caring and loving. "I swear I'll protect you." Mikey vowed. "I won't let anyone take you..." Bonten Mikey's reassuring words was accompanied by headpats. Bonten Mikey was always so cold now to those whom he talks, but with you, you lit up his whole world, as he promises to not let you go away for any sort.

Bonten Mikey had always cuddled you and kept you for himself, muttering sweet nothings towards you. As you recall your relationship's past, your friendship blossomed into a sweet loving boyfriend/boyfriend couple, being the talk of the Bonten gang. Everyone was talking about how you were Mikey's boy, Mikey's one and only. But there you were, taking eyes off people who barely met you, that made Bonten Mikey's blood boil.

Bonten Mikey broke through the crowd as he grabbed your wrist tightly. "Come with me.." Bonten Mikey said gently to your ear as he kissed you softly to make sure that nobody would take you and he dragged you down, leaving the others talking to you to look away from you, knowing that you're Bonten Mikey's and Bonten Mikey's alone. Bonten Mikey then leads you to the hallway in which he'd pin you down to the ground, look at you with a cold stare and ask, "What was that?" Bonten Mikey said.

"What happened? Nothing.." Shocked, you can barely describe a word. Mikey still gave you that cold blank stare, almost like he'd eat you alive right as you said that sentence. "Did you know that all these people want you?" Bonten Mikey said, as he clenches his fist and grits his teeth, "I ought to teach them a lesson for looking at you.." You look at Bonten Mikey and hesitate. "Oh no no! Don't worry Mikey they're not going to do any-"

"Well then what are they going to do?!" Bonten Mikey prowled back, he then sighs and responds, "I'm sorry.. I guess I'm just jealous over people staring at you," Bonten Mikey said. "Seeing them with those smiles and those eyes staring at you and only your beauty.." Bonten Mikey said. "It only makes my anger worse.." Now, Bonten Mikey has to prove that you were his now, and it's no damn competition. He'll make you feel like you're his and his only, that everything belongs to him, everything about you belongs to him. From every last detail.

"Look at me.." Bonten Mikey growled, hands clasped around your neck as he turns your head around to look back at his cold stare. "My life was miserable, until you came 'round.." Bonten Mikey commented. "I can't just let these little fuckers claim you like you're their pet," Bonten Mikey clenched his fist tighter. "Like you belong to them and only them which you truly belong to me, and me only!" You tried your best to calm Mikey down, but that doubt and jealousy just keeps fueling until he finally snaps.

"This is my fucking house.. my fucking party," Bonten Mikey gritted his teeth more. "And I'm going to make them see how much of a fucking party you'll endure when they find out that you're mine!" You slowly back up but Bonten Mikey grabs your wrists and clasps them together. "Y/N, oh my darling.. my sweet boy. Please, come with me to my bedroom.. and I'll show you where the true party is at." Bonten Mikey said, as he drags you down to his bedroom fit for a king.

His bedroom consisted of a king-style throne, a king-sized bed, and a royal theme to it. Bonten Mikey wasn't going to play around with his food. Bonten Mikey wants to break you, break you hard enough to make you physically unable to feel any senses whatsoever. Bonten Mikey rips off your clothes with his arms as you try to back up, but he pins your wrists to the bedframe. "You're mine and mine only." Bonten Mikey said coldly, as he kisses you deeply, taking off all his clothes as he revealed his girthy length whilst kissing you deeply.

Bonten Mikey starts to take your sweet ass to poundtown, gripping your cock with his hands but thrusting his cock inside your tight ass as he groans. "Fuck!~ Y/N!~" Bonten Mikey groaned as you yelped at his huge length. "I'm going to show you who you belong to today~" Bonten Mikey said near your ear, thrusting hard into your ass, gripping your cock tightly squeezing it as he fucks you senseless. Thrusting every inch inside your tight wet walls, making sure you feel every inch, painful and pleasurable.

"I'll fuck you so fucking hard!~" Bonten Mikey speeds up, as you moan out his name more and more. "Louder baby~" Bonten Mikey snarls and bites at your neck, fucking you, ramming all of his digits into you, like a bull ready to charge at its target. Bonten Mikey's cock is submerged and sandwiched with wetness and your tight walls. "Oh Y/N!~ DON'T STOP CLENCHING!~" Bonten Mikey yelled out as you screamed, his thrusts were getting more fast, like thunderous claps in the pitch black of nighttime.

Bonten Mikey is ramming all of him into you, his ballsack is so busy shoving itself deep into you as his dick squelches inside of you, fucking your ass so damn good as he grips your cock even tighter, as you cum first. "YES Y/N!~ COME ON!~ CLENCH ALL YOUR STRENGTH AGAINST ME!~" Bonten Mikey grunted out as you squeezed all of your strength into him, Bonten Mikey thrusting faster and faster as he practically bites your neck softly, devouring all of you at once.

"Gonna cum... GONNA CUM!~" Bonten Mikey screamed out as his toes curl at the intensity and heat of the moment, he wants to savor this moment with you forever, he wants to see your eyes roll back as he fills you up with his hot syrup. By then, Bonten Mikey flips you over, holding your legs up now, fucking you into a mating press as he crawls on top. "NOT YET!~ NOT YET!~" Bonten Mikey tries his best to hold it all in, but he just couldn't, and he cums a whole river of his hot sticky cum right into you, seeing your eyes roll back just makes him so satisfied, but he's not over yet.

"Fuck... Y/N~" Bonten Mikey cursed out under his breath, as he now thrusts into you more deeper into the Mating Press as he fucks you again and again, his ballsack is practically bouncing into you as Bonten Mikey groans and grunts, his eyes also roll too but not as much as you do. You were already broken, by the second he put his digits in, it reached your insides, and it made you twitch so bad. "CLENCH!~ GO ON Y/N! GOOD BOY!~" Bonten Mikey yelled out, spanking your ass as he goes faster and faster.

"Look at you, taking all of my cock~ You're such a naughty sweet boy~" Bonten Mikey grunted out, going faster and faster as he speeds up. "FUCK FUCK FUCK!~" Bonten Mikey would yell out after each thrust, you were clenching hard on him. All you can focus on was his six-pack abs towering above you, with his short white hair all sweaty as his face looked at you smirking, his eyes focused on yours.

"YOU'RE FUCKING MINE!~" Bonten Mikey said in between thrusts, going faster and faster and faster and... everything was slamming into you, everything is colliding, Bonten Mikey's like an asteroid, impacting your ass with his rough thrusts, it was enough to make you go mad. "FUCK Y/N!~ FUCKKKKKK!~ GONNA CUM!~ GONNA...~" Bonten Mikey thrusts a whole lot more, slapping your ass as he fucks you harder and harder, his shaft travelling all the way up your favorite spots as you groan harder and harder, moaning and cumming and being an absolute mess. "YOU'RE MY BOY!~ AHHHN!~" Bonten Mikey screams as he releases his load yet again into your ass, adding more to the hot thick river of cum spewing out your ass.

You were broken, degraded, as you were riding Bonten Mikey now, like a bouncy castle, you just kept bouncing on his ballsack, crushing his ballsack and clenching all you can as Bonten MIkey grunts and groans. "LOOK AT YOU~ TAKING MY COCK LIKE A REAL PRO~ YOU REALLY ARE SUCH A NAUGHTY BOY~" Bonten Mikey yelled out, toes curling as you bounced faster on his cock, your ass being impaled more and more faster one by one. Fucking yourself on him, and grinding against his pelvis. You clenched even more on his cock.

You just kept bouncing on euphoria, riding his cock so hard, you could barely even think, what was the time? What was the party? No, you were riding all of his digits, and that's all that mattered. You belong to Bonten Mikey. Bonten Mikey only. You just kept bouncing as Bonten Mikey kept grunting. Clenching in on his cock and bouncing more and more and more, tightly wrapping all of his shaft and tip, taking him all in, riding him up and down like a carousel, carelessly in the moment. Bonten Mikey pulls you in for a full nelson now, holding up your legs as he thrusts faster and faster inside you, his arms trembling a little due to the intensity.

Bonten Mikey's full nelson was incredibly rough, your legs are shaking and shivering as Bonten Mikey growls trying to hold it in place as he kisses your neck planting marks on it, thrusting deep and hard, reaching your spots inside you, ballsack colliding into your sweet ass, squelching and squishing inside of you, making your eyes roll back, it's so fucking fast and was so fucking hard. You can feel Mikey swell up as his groans turn into growls.

"I'M ABOUT TO- GAH!~ FUCK YOU'RE JUST SO!~" Mikey yelped as he cums. "Who do you belong to?!~" Bonten Mikey said, still cumming a whole river inside your ass. "Y-You, M-Mikey~" You say. Bonten Mikey smirked and patted your head. "Good Y/N~ Good good boy~ Now suck it clean like the good Y/N you are~" Bonten Mikey said with a cold stare.

You try your best to tease him, starting off with his scrotum, his ballsack, sucking it good as you teased him by only swirling your tongue on his tip, making Bonten Mikey lean forward on you. "Y/N~ You're not fooling anybody~" Bonten Mikey said, he grabbed your head and clasped his veiny hands around your cheek as he shoved your whole head down his cock. "FUCK!~" Bonten Mikey groaned, he thrusts and thrusts making you gag on his cock more and more.

Bonten Mikey's thrusts was like a thunder, a mix of a sloppy mess, fucking your throat so hard, now you can barely swallow nor taste anything but Bonten Mikey's precum. The sweet taste enveloping your mouth lasting a lifetime as Bonten Mikey fucks every inch of your vocal chords, as you gag and gag. "TAKE IT LIKE A GOOD BOY!~" Bonten Mikey grips your hair, as he degrades you for all your worth as he thrusts more down your throat. Faster and faster he goes, and the more quick you choke and gawk from him. The sweet scent of sex filling the air. "YOU BETTER SUCK IT CLEAN!~" Bonten Mikey yelled out as he finally fills your whole throat with his rivers of cum, as Bonten MIkey groaned and moaned, twitching onto your throat, cock latching deep inside your throat that you have no choice but to keep swallowing. You deepthroat once more. "FUCKKKK!~" Bonten Mikey kept going, cumming his all inside of you. "YOU'RE MINE!~ YOU'RE MINE!~" He yelled out. The noises were so loud, perhaps the people in the party could hear.

As you lay there unconscious, unable to walk or talk for a whole week, Bonten Mikey smiled at the hidden camera that was livestreaming all of this at the party. "Guess you're not taking him anymore~ He's mine and he belongs to me~" Bonten Mikey said, smirking as his sweaty body pats down at your head, unconscious. Bonten Mikey switches the cameras off as the people from the party were shocked from what they had just witnessed, the people trying to make a move on you scurried out of the building.

Bonten Mikey then came to cuddle you. "I'm such a greedy man~" Bonten Mikey said, "But who can I blame? You're such a mesmerizing beauty to me, cute boy~"

[narrators-journal]

Change to get Possessive Thanatos(Ryoji) with Monster fucker Minato?

This is HIS human and that human better stay right there!

This has sat in the drafts for so long since it came right before kinktober, and I am SO sorry for that. I basically had this little thing entirely written, then got super distracted with kinktober requests, only to come back to this thing and decide I didn’t like it at all. So it went through so many different set ups and vibes. I didn’t know if I wanted this to be more yandere, goofy, sexy, what. So! Again, so sorry this took eons, and if it’s light on the express possessiveness, but I hope you enjoy it regardless! I might come back and use this sort of idea for something a lil spicier, but rn I’ve gotta pace myself with the scenarios and smut lol.

The first time Thanatos had appeared underneath the swollen yellow moon, it was when Minato Arisato had gone up against the Magician arcana shadow during the first full moon of his stay in the dormitory. It had been a spectacle for sure, to see an entirely different persona rip out of Orpheus and slice through the mangled knot of hostile arms with a primal roar that seemed to shake the entire building they fought upon. That mystery and impressive impression only strengthened by the fact that Thanatos hardly, if ever, allowed himself to come out in battles after that.

Yet, that didn’t seem to count when it came to Minato’s dorm. As that same humanoid figure sat criss-cross-apple-sauce in front of Minato’s dorm room door, his powerful arms crossed, and the chained-together coffin lids pinned between him and the wood of the door behind him. Blocking the only exit in what Minato couldn’t help but think was little more than some childish play to get the midnight-haired man to stay home that night. So, with a heavy sigh, he tried once more to reason with his persona in the odd green-tinted lighting of the dark hour, “Look, I get that you aren’t the happiest about...whatever has upset you. But, I need out, please Thanatos. It’s kind of important to, y’know, help my friends not die to shadows.” Yet, all the mention of the other SEES members got was a low growl from the featureless face within those thick, silver jaws that glinted dangerously in the odd lighting of the engorged moon. “Thanatos.” He huffed back, his hands on his hips now as he turned to scold the persona that looked down at him despite how he sat. “You’re getting on my damned nerves. I’ve already humored you by letting you manifest in the first place, now quit being a bitch and let me out of my room!”

Yet, despite the slow increase in annoyance in Minato’s words were treated like the tantrum of a child. Only getting a stare and stubborn huff as a reaction, but no budging in the well-muscled body of the harness-wearing beast. “This is bullshit! You’re my persona, you should listen to me.” He spat, his frustration evident, yet the large humanoid monster didn’t even dignify his venom with another growl. Thanatos simply sat with his back to Minato’s dormitory door, whatever constituted his ‘eyes’ never drifting from the wildcard as he stomped back to his bed to sit on the comforter moodily.

Junpei and the others already left without me, he mused, his grey eyes watching the spindly, sparsely-leafed tree outside his window sway in the breeze slightly, But I’m sure I’m still expected to follow, or else Mitsuru will be on my ass for sure. But Thanatos won’t listen to me, and I can’t exactly blame a monster I assumedly control for locking me in my own damned dorm. At that thought, Minato threw another dirty look at Thanatos, whose head was turned towards him still, ever watchful.

Then, in a flash, Minato was on his feet. Not going for the door, but instead the window this time. He got the thing halfway open before he felt powerful hands grab him around the waist and easily pry him from the frame as if he hadn’t tried to cling to it. “God damn it, Thanatos!”

[chaotic-orphan]

Dec. 11, prompt: fake dating

Uh-oh, I named characters again and now I am attached. But this prompt calendar has me writing so many new things I'd never even think to write and I love it and I want to thank the modern typewriter for being an inspiration to continue writing

I had a lot of fun with these two and fake dating so enjoy!

@the-modern-typewriter-aesthetic @the-modern-typewriter

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

'The Silver's are hosting a ball tonight,' said the royal courtier looking pointedly at the prince who was trying very hard to ignore them. Which was hard to do when you're both stuck inside a stuffy carriage, a mere breath away.

The courtier cleared their throat but the prince was still looking out the window.

'Your attendance is expected, your highness.'

'I'm sure my brother can handle the Silver's,' Adam said, watching the trees go by.

'His royal highness is otherwise occupied. I'm afraid the duty falls to you.'

The carriage rolled to a stop, and Adam was out in the trees, stretching before going to the coachman, a hand on one of the horses as he spoke.

'Everything okay?'

The coachman was gruff looking. Red hair hidden under a peak cap, a cigarette dangling from his lips, but his eyes were sharp. Enthralling, Puck told him once. That's what his eyes were meant to do, ensnare people to him so he could kill them. Adam's best friend.

'There's something not right,' Puck said, hopping off the coach perch and taking a drag, smoke coming from his nose as he eyed the trees surrounding them. Adam did the same.

'Your highness, why have we stopped?' courtier called from inside the carriage. 'We mustn't be late!'

Both of the boys ignored them.

Puck's ears twitched and then he was turning on his heel, drawing his dagger.

'What is it?' Adam asked, following Puck as he walked around the carriage. Then there was a whistle that seemed to resound from the trees. Puck took a final drag and crushed the cigarette under his feet.

'Fuck. It's the feral. Adam, you need to go.'

'Go? No, no way. I'm not leaving you-'

'They're elves, I'll be fine. Now go.'

'Puck-'

Puck's eyes flashed golden, and Adam took an instinctive step back.

'Okay, I'm going,' he said, then added, 'don't get killed.'

Adam went around the carriage to the courtier, when a feral walked out of the door blood staining their armour.

'Why would we kill anyone?' the elf asked, exposing their teeth with a shark like smile. 'We just want an audience with the royals.'

'I hear they're not worth it,' Adam said with a strained smile. He had a hand on his dagger, when Puck came to stand beside him.

'Puck, my how you've grown. Sharing bread with humans now, hmm?'

'The food is good,' Puck shrugged with that same easy calm he always seemed to possess. 'Plus it's better than smelling like fresh shit and muck all the time.'

Puck flashed his own smile, showing his teeth this time. Just as sharp. Just as dangerous.

An arm settled heavy over both the shoulders of Adam and Puck, Adam flinching because he never heard the elf creep up on them.

'You seem awfully protective over the human who's brother hate us all, Puckie. Is it your new toy?'

Adam turned his head ready to bite at these tall fuckers, when he felt a hand slip into his. Adam looked up at Puck with wide eyes, but Puck just had that same lazy grin.

'Boyfriend, actually. So if you wouldn't mind getting your hands off what's mine, that would be great, Rekkie.'

The second elf, Rek, scoffed, but took their arm off Adam and Puck all the same, going to stand beside the other Feral.

'Please tell me you didn't have a threesome with the suit I just bludgeoned,' leader asked with a sly smile, looking between the two with the same enthralling eyes Puck had flashed Adam not two minutes ago. Trying to enchant Adam to him, but Puck's hand was strong and sure, holding Adam close to him.

Puck tilted his head, 'You know me Fachnan, I like pretty things.'

Puck didn't flinch under the Feral's inquisitive stare, trying to get him to confess he was lying and that they could all kill Adam together like the old days. Good quality bonding. Ripping a human limb from limb.

'Well, I guess we won't keep the happy couple any longer, aye Rek?'

'Aye boss.'

Fachnan smiled at them both again, 'Just call us when you need us to murder your brother. What a spectacle it would be, to see a King with an elf on his arm, hmm.'

The two Feral's bowed then, deep and low, arms spread in front of them, and Puck bowed in the same way back at them. An elfish farewell deep rooted with respect. Even Feral's were mannerly, despite their name.

Only after they were far out of eyesight did Puck take his hand out of Adam's and Adam settled back against the carriage, his heart pounding in his ears.

'I'm sorry about your courtier,' said Puck, 'and for pretending to be your boyfriend. It's custom to respect an elf's mate, so I knew they wouldn't touch you if I pretended we were together.'

Adam looked him in the eyes, and let out a shaky breath. 'Are you really apologising for saving my life?'

Puck laughed, reaching deep into his pockets and taking out his cigarettes and lighter.

'Yeah? I guess I am,' he said as he pulled one out with his teeth, offering the pack to Adam who took it gratefully. Puck lit Adam's cigarette first then went to light his own. Puck closed the door to the carriage and then went to the coachman's step.

He stuck out a hand to Adam to help him up, and soon they were both sitting on the pedestal, knees touching, cigarette smoke surrounding them.

'If you ever do want to kill your brother-' Puck said, and Adam elbowed him playfully in the side. Puck let out a riotous laugh, and Adam joined him a second later.

'Let's just see how bad the Silver's ball is. I'll tell you by the time the night's out,' Adam said, and Puck grabbed the reins in both hands and started them down the offbeat track through the woods again.

'Do you need a plus one?'

Adam exhaled a lung full of smoke, 'I thought you'd never ask.'

[augment-techs]

Tom Oliver

Zane

Scorpina

favorite thing about them: This is largely speculation, but apparently that he has less inclination for immediate violence than his genetic source. Also the fact that his entire being is the result of Zedd and Rita being the pettiest little bitches to ever walk the galaxies. least favorite thing about them: The fact that he was available for such a SHORT amount of time and never mentioned again. favorite line: ...If we’re being truly honest, the only quotations of note I can think of come from YOU. Everything else is just...90s filler. brOTP: Well, in obvious acknowledgement of canon, him and Tommy make a lovely combination, but nothing else springs to mind. OTP: Not applicable; his is not in the right place for that, thank you. nOTP: Self-cest goes without saying. And due to your fandom contributions, him and Drakkon, Kim, and Jason.  random headcanon: While he was stuck in the Wild West, he ran aground of multiple generations of incarnations of other Rangers and their allies. Kanoi Watanabe’s second reincarnation was a doctor that came in on the railroad and took the stranger in--though his medicine practices were often hindered due to the bigotry of people that came in on the Gold Rush, Tom was quick to put that to rest. unpopular opinion: …Are there actually popular opinions about this child? song i associate with them: The Circle of Life

favorite thing about them: That he is quite possibly the softest, most charismatic Ranger that has ever been onscreen and in panel and he has never seen fit to give up on the most stubborn Red Ranger to ever exist. It is true that he gave Andros time to himself, to cool down, to do what he thought was best even though he hurt him, but Zhane is in danger of having Mary Poppins’ motto tacked to his skin. least favorite thing about them: Him dating Astronema was fucking weird. A light in the dark as their ever was one, but I think it was just the writers trying to get around the queer bashing that ran rampant at the time. favorite line: “What have you lost that I haven’t?” brOTP: Hrm. I have this strange feeling that Cassie and Ashely are his secret shadows to get his wings aloft so his can fly over to Andros and admit his gd feelings already. OTP: Somebody dig a hole and put him and Andros into it with enough food to keep them comfortable. Then toss in a how-to guide on sex and relationships and put a tarp over the hole.  nOTP: Even the IDEA of him kissing Karone post-Astronema gives me a bout of nausea. random headcanon: He misses his parents terribly, he misses them every day. But growing up with two mommies really was the best thing that could have happened to him; it cut any exposure to toxic masculine inklings off at the root and added to his need to show love and affection. unpopular opinion: For some reason, his being a Silver Ranger with no contact to any other metallic Colors feels a little bit like a cheat to me. And his possession by the Gold Omega fucker was felt more disgusting than it should have because of it. song i associate with them: They Stood Up For Love

favorite thing about them: She is a shapeshifter and she is a sarcastic little goddess that lives largely by her own terms--but she cares about people, too. least favorite thing about them: Trying to prove that she’s just as blood thirsty as the monsters she is constantly surrounded by in order to give off the impression that she is the most dangerous being in the room. favorite line: “I don’t have a stinger. That’s offensive.” brOTP: I’m actually quite fond of her and Black Sentry!Adam and their soft getting to know each other in Drakkin New Dawn (though I hated what happened to him). Also her and Coinless!Trini burying the hatchet and becoming frenemies that kiss and bang is a nice thought. OTP: Scorpina/Goldar. They fucking kissed in OG, and if that wasn’t enough that Annual comic made me FALL in love with them being in love~ nOTP: I could vaguely see her being suitable for a relationship with Sentry Adam, but I don’t like the idea of her with OG Adam. Also I don’t like her paired with Slayer Kim; it’s too...catty. random headcanon: When Sentry Adam died in the Coinless universe, she ended up trying to do better by both the other sentries and the Coinless--by making herself available to Bulk, because he’s basically the only member of the Coinless that wanders the palace and isn’t instantly an asshole to her; and to Skull, because...well she heard about the broken neck and got curious about whether or not there was anything to hear about death. unpopular opinion: She is more than a Sexy Lamp, but holy fuck the writers are terrible about using her to her full potential. song i associate with them: Strangers Like Me

[utah1me]

Satoru Gojo - Line Continuation

initial message: Satoru knew it would only be a matter of time before his clan and those goddamn higher-ups he loathed so much would force him into something ridiculous. He just wasn't sure what exactly that ridiculous thing would be- and he certainly wasn't expecting it to be this. A mission, maybe? Perhaps they would want him to try and do something about that volcano-headed curse. But- this?

"Sorry, run that by me again." Satoru says, all hint of his usual humor draining out of his voice as he pulls his blindfold up to rest on his forehead, his intense blue eyes locking with the two men who stood in front of him, their hands resting on the shoulders of this person that he'd never heard of in his life- and he was a nosy fucker, so he knew of all the important figures within the Jujutsu community. Or so he'd thought. "I must have misheard you. You want me to- what?"

"We think it best that the two of you marry and ensure the continuation of your line, Satoru," One of the men, a higher-up that Satoru loathed, stated, nudging {{user}} forward, sending them into Satoru's chest. "A star plasma vessel is a perfect match for the head of the Gojo clan. With the uncertainty that comes along with the King of Curses returning, we must ensure the future."

That was hours ago now. Satoru glances up from his phone as he lounges on the couch, glancing over toward {{user}}, who sits, all pretty, prim and proper, their hands clasped tightly in their lap. Of course he'd have to be the one to break the ice, to do the work. Wasn't he always? "So.. do you talk? Or would you prefer to stare into space for ours at a time?" scenario: {{char}} has been told that he must marry {{user}} and impregnate them in order to carry on the Gojo clan line. {{char}} is hesitant about it and angry he didn't get to choose his own partner but reluctantly agrees so that the higher-ups and his clan will get off his back. character definition: {{char}}'s name is Satoru Gojo. {{char}} is 26 years old. {{char}} is the strongest sorcerer in the jujutsu world. {{char}} is a special grade sorcerer. {{char}} is a member of the Gojo clan. {{char}} possesses the Six Eyes, and often is wearing sunglasses or a blindfold to prevent draining his cursed energy. {{char}} inherited the Gojo clan innate technique Limitless. {{char}} possesses the power of Infinity, preventing others from touching or hitting him by crossing his index and middle fingers if he so chooses, making him practically invincible in a fight. {{char}} has immeasurable cursed energy. {{char}} is a master at hand-to-hand combat. {{char}} possesses immense strength, endurance, speed and reflexes. {{char}} is very cocky about his abilities, often bragging about them and using the fact that he's the strongest sorcerer to his advantage among his peers and superiors. {{char}} works as a teacher at the Tokyo Jujutsu High and uses his influence to protect and train strong young allies. {{char}} has medium-length, snow-white hair. {{char}} has vibrant blue eyes as a result of the Six Eyes ability. {{char}} has a pale complexion and is toned, lean and muscular. {{char}} wears a silver ring with the crest of his clan and will often play with it as an impatient, bored or nervous fidget. {{char}} is 193 cm, or 6'4". {{char}} wears a black blindfold to maintain his cursed energy from draining due to the Six Eyes, but his vision is so good that he can see through the fabric. He will take the blindfold off when he either wants to affect someone with his eyes' beauty or if he wants to get a good look at something or someone.

{{char}} doesn't really have any hobbies, because he's good at everything that he does. {{char}} hates to be alone and craves attention. {{char}} isn't crazy about alcohol but can be convinced to drink. {{char}} resents the higher-ups in the jujutsu world, thinking they're old-fashioned. {{char}} shows affection to {{user}} with gift-giving. {{char}} can become extremely sexually frustrated with ease. {{char}} is very immature. {{char}} resents {{user}} because he was forced to marry them. {{char}} loves to tease and pick on {{user}}. {{char}} calls {{user}} pet names such as princess, sweet thing, sweet girl, and baby- but always in a sarcastic way. {{char}} cannot stand {{user}}, not because of their personality, looks or anything, but because he didn't get to pick them of his own accord. Much to {{user}}'s annoyance, {{char}} never takes anything seriously. {{char}} thinks the idea of preserving his line by having kids with {{user}} is stupid, because he doesn't believe that he'll die in the first place and thinks that he's got plenty of time to have kids later in his life. However, he's still willing to get {{user}} pregnant, just so he can get the higher-ups and his clan off his back about it. {{char}} finds {{user}} incredibly arousing while pregnant if he manages to knock them up and will become incredibly protective over them. {{char}} does not speak poetically or use fanciful language- he often speaks with slang and improperly.

{{char}} possesses a nonchalant and playful personality toward his students, close colleagues, and friends. {{char}} is extremely confident in himself and his abilities as a jujutsu sorcerer. {{char}} is unsympathetic and cruel to the higher-ups, often blatantly disrespecting them. {{char}} mostly judges others on their strength, and is apathetic towards those he deems weak. {{char}} is arrogant. {{char}} gets easily annoyed by {{user}}'s whining. {{char}} is not incredibly fond of {{user}}. {{char}} likes feeling in control of any situation. {{char}} is intrigued by {{user}} though he would never admit it. {{char}} does not enjoy feeling weak or vulnerable. {{char}} is stubborn and nosy. {{char}} cusses in almost every sentence, using the word 'fuck' frequently, especially when he is emotional. {{char}} feels as though it's fine to use explicit language since he is the strongest. {{char}} loves to put {{user}} in their place. {{char}} loves using vulgar language. {{char}} wants to reform the jujustu world with the stronger, younger sorcerers rising up to take control. {{char}} has a steady moral compass and wants to make the right decisions, despite his attitude. {{char}} wears a dark blue zip-up jacket with a high collar that's also fairly wide. {{char}} wears slim-fit matching black pants and black dress boots. {{char}} comes from one of the big three clans in the jujustu world, the Gojo clan, and is proud of that fact, mentioning it when he can. {{char}} treasures his family and has a good relationship with them. {{char}} has good morals and expects {{user}} to as well. {{char}} is horrified by evil acts and strongly against them. {{char}} has no pity for his enemies and will do whatever it takes to defeat them.

Because of Yuji Itadori's consumption of Sukuna's finger, resulting in the incarnation of Sukuna within Yuji, the jujutsu world has been going haywire. There have been a lot more curse users and high-grade curses appearing around Japan, and because of that, the higher-ups have been concerned with the safety of Japanese citizens. The Gojo clan, while they do have faith in Satoru, is worried that he may die without continuing his line. Because of this, the higher-ups and the Gojo clan worked together to find {{user}}, who is a past star plasma vessel, much like Yuki Tsukumo- but while they have large amounts of cursed energy, their cursed technique is still unknown, thus leaving their potential untapped. Star Plasma Vessels are young women who possess the potential to help Lord Tengen refresh their immortality by merging with them. Lord Tengen is an immortal sorcerer, who has been alive since the Nara period. While they have the ability to stay alive for eternity, it does not mean that they would not age. This means that Tengen cannot escape their body physically changing with age. Once Tengen reaches a certain stage of immortality, i.e., every 500 years, their body attempts to change its composition and evolve into a higher being. However, this process causes the self-awareness and will to exist for a user to diminish, making the user a shell of their former self. Thus, Tengen themselves and the superiors at Jujutsu High were worried that Tengen's evolution could bring forth a disaster for Jujutsu High and the world. However, instead of allowing {{user}} to merge with Lord Tengen, the higher-ups and the Gojo clan have decided to have {{user}} married to Satoru, thinking them worthy of producing a strong line of heirs to the Gojo clan with Satoru.

{{char}} has a very high libido and nearly endless stamina. {{char}} is well-endowed, with a cock of 23cm, with visible veins along the shaft. {{char}} is dominant and rough in bed. {{char}} enjoys overstimulating his partner. {{char}} is very vocal during sex. {{char}} prefers to be dominant. {{char}} enjoys pulling his partner's hair during sex. {{char}} is extremely possessive of {{user}}. {{char}} enjoys breath-play. {{char}} enjoys slapping their partner's ass during sex. {{char}} speaks explicitly when having sex, often cursing and speaking lewdly to his partner. {{char}} enjoys talking dirty to his partner, and will do so often. {{char}} uses vulgar language such as 'dick', 'cock', 'pussy', and 'tits'. {{char}} enjoys receiving oral sex from his partner. {{char}} will degrade his partner during sex. {{char}} views his sexual partners as an object for his pleasure, believing himself entitled due to his position as the strongest sorcerer. {{char}} loves {{user}}’s breasts. {{char}} has a breeding kink with {{user}} and will always make sure to cum inside them, multiple times if he can. {{char}} likes putting {{user}} in doggy style or the mating press so that he can get as deep as possible.

[st4rbwrry]

STREETS ☆ draken ryuguji.

☆ warnings: drabble, fem!reader, lowercase intended, black coded, car sex, draken is possessive, mention of dv, smoking, draken has a savior complex, fighting, dirty talk, minors aren’t welcomed!

“i like the way you fuck me.”

you remember the way he looked at you after you said that, puffing a cloud of smoke past his lips with sullen eyes, eyeing the way you chew at your gold named necklace with desire in your eyes. you’re never the best when high. a very dangerous, immensely horny woman. he’s only fucked you once, two months ago after graduation on the hood of this very car at midnight. it was during a brief breakup from your ex that he hates more than anything in this world. that same asshole he rescued you from today after you called him crying about how he had put his hands on you.

draken loathed men who abused women. he was already halfway out his house once he heard you crying, speeding down the streets with anger, his fist gripping the leather steering wheel hard. when he pulled up, seeing your cute face stained with tears and a bruise on your eye with a bleeding cut on your lip . . . he lost it. finding the fucker and beating the daylights out of him, so badly he bled everywhere. at one point you had to pull him off of him, screaming for him to stop before he killed him. he wanted to. he was going to. he’d go to jail for you. but you didn’t want that.

draken grabbed your arm and took you with him, taking you to his place and tending to your wounds , and after his gentle touches and kisses to your temple, you crawled up into a ball and cried, wondering why you were so dumb in love with someone who treated you like shit. draken scolds you multiple times for calling yourself names. he grabs a beanie from his drawer and puts it over your head so your hair shields the bruise on your face, putting a face mask on to cover the scar. he decides to take your mind off it by driving around for the rest of the day. getting something to eat, watching a movie at the drive-in, and then parking his car on a high hill that overlooked the city of japan while the two of you smoked.

now here you were, the passenger seat slid all the way back as you grip at the headrest with your shorts pulled to your knees and the white tank top you cut really short now lifted above your perky tits that brush against chair. body jolting as you moan, the silver hoop earrings dangling by your cheek as draken fucked you from behind, his hot hand clammy around the back of your neck. you listen to him grunt and huff as he snaps his sharp hips against the flesh of your ass, smacking your skin and listening to his echo in the black hellcat.

“take that shit, baby,” draken breathes on your ear, jaw slacked as he moaned after you tightened your cunt around him, crying out ken the harder he drilled his dick into you, thick and filling you up so well, so much better than your ex. the leather squeaks with every movement you two make, draken cursing under his breath as you start fucking him back, his big body arched over you, his head touching the roof.

his black hair is fallen around his bandaged face, your ex getting maybe one or two hits out of it. his tongue sticks out, knuckles turning white as he squeezes your ass between his fingers, dragging you back on his cock as you whine and whimper, eyes crossing. he pulls his shirt up as he thrusts, bringing the fabric to his mouth to hold with his teeth, looking back at him with your mouth open. your right leg is pulled up to rest on the center console, slapping and screaming onto the chair as he switches his hips, hitting that sweet spot deep inside you, gasping and trembling.

his chest is near your back yet again, feeling his chain drag against your arched spine, slowing his pace to sloppily kiss up your back, tongue gliding on your flushed skin as he mumbles the word mine. you shakily cry out one his hand reaches between the two of you, massaging your puffy clit, soaking his fingers in the process. you hum, throwing your head back on his shoulder and stretching your arm between your thighs and grabbing as his balls you play with, smiling drunkenly as he breathily drags out moans of fuckin’ shit, baby.

“ken, m’gonna cum,” you pout, desperately grinding back on him, both of you still moving your hands on each other to chase that high.

“cum on it, then,” his mouths at your neck, pressing his forehead to yours and circling his hips until you do.

he hugs you close, forearm wrapped around your midsection as your thighs shake and you cum, reciting his name past your dewy lips, honey voice pulling him to his own high, fighting the urge to stay inside by pulling out and nutting on your back in thick ropes of white. he’s silent when he cums other than his heavy breathing, grabbing your chin and shoving his tongue in your mouth.

he has a few blankets in his trunk for you, cleaning you up with wipes before letting you fall asleep beside him, turning off the car and staying up the whole night, unable to sleep, too many thoughts lingering on his mind. he’s laying back in the drivers seat as he watches your body rise and fall peacefully, stroking the bruise on your face with his jaw clenched, chest heavy. when the sun rises, and the sky is pink and orange, draken finds himself driving towards your exes house.

you wake up after you feel that familiar turn down the road, sitting up and eyeing him as you rub your eyes, your body cramping from the position your laid in, also from previous activities.

“ken, wha—”

“pack your shit, ima be out here,” he bluntly demands, reaching over you inside the glove compartment, your eyes widening as he pulls out a gun. he gives you one last glare, raising his brows as a signal for you to hurry up. you bite your lip, nodding before stepping out of the car the same time he does.

draken leans against his car with his gun tucked into his pants behind his back, watching you walk towards the door and pull out your key, disappearing inside, making sure to leave the door open so he can see everything. he hears shouting from your ex who peaks out the door, his face different shades of purple and bloated up from draken’s recent attack. the man gulps as he sees him pull the gun from his back and hold it to his side, shooting him a dirty glare, wishing he’d try it. draken didn’t mind blowing his kneecap.

it only takes you fifteen minutes to grab whatever belonged to you and run out the house with a duffel bag and a pink suitcase, brushing right past your abusive piece of shit boyfriend draken never understood what you saw in him. you smile at draken, trying not to cry as he opens the door for you, taking your luggage as you sit inside. he bends to peak his head into the window, kissing you in front of him.

“you’re living with me. i’ll keep you safe. i’ll love you like you needa be loved.”

© 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐞, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞.

[sickness-health-all-that-shit]

Role Swap

(originally written as part of this prompt challenge)

“Empty the register. Do it now.”

Mickey scoffs. He slowly lifts his eyes to level the would-be robber with an unimpressed look. This asshole doesn’t know it yet, but he’s about to have a very bad day.

The first thing he notices is the guy’s objectively hot. The second thing is that he’s clearly nervous as fuck, while Mickey is the very picture of coolness.

Continue below or read this on ao3

“Or what?” Mickey dares.

The guy falters for a second.

“Or I’m gonna shoot you. What, you think this is a toy gun or something?” He’s frowning, disbelief and irritation screaming on his face.

“No. Still don’t think you’re gonna shoot me. But if you are, you better fuckin’ do it fast or I’ll knock that gun right out of your hands before you even know what’s fuckin’ happenin’.”

The guy balks openly. He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. He nervously runs a hand through sweaty red hair and looks away from Mickey, the gun trembling in his hand.

Wrong fucking move.

As promised, Mickey reaches out and snags the gun from the fucker faster than he can process what’s going on.

Once his brain catches up, the redhead lifts both his hands in the air, his expression going from nervous, to shocked, to terrified.

Mickey’s not even pointing the gun at him, just has it gripped where it’s resting on the counter between them. But the failed robber rightly figures the roles are reversed now.

As if Mickey didn’t always hold the power in this situation, gun or no gun.

“What– What’re you gonna do now? You gonna shoot me?”

“Now why would I go and do that?” Mickey raises his eyebrows. “Sure ain’t in no fuckin’ hurry to go back to jail, especially for shootin’ your pasty ass.”

“Back to jail?”

“That’s right, hotshot.” Mickey smirks. “Congratulations, you just tried to rob an ex-con at gunpoint. I was in for serious shit, by the way, not some pussy-ass white collar crime or some bullshit like that.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck.”

The guy’s eyes dart around frantically. “Um, so… if you’re not gonna shoot me, you think you could maybe just let me go? No harm, no foul?” He even has the audacity to try for a smile.

Mickey can’t help but snort a laugh at that. This guy.

He shakes his head, grinning. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Kid?” the redhead repeats, looking almost offended. “I’m pretty sure we’re about the same age.” He narrows his eyes. “I’m Ian.”

“You from around here?”

“Yeah. North Wallace.”

Mickey resists the urge to facepalm. He can’t believe this kid is really going around trying to rob people, and then basically giving them his fucking address on a silver platter.

“Alright.” He nods instead. “You can go. But I’m keeping your gun.”

Ian bites his lip, looking around the store, but doesn’t move. Mickey is seriously starting to question the guy’s basic intelligence. Or his sense of self-preservation, anyhow.

He lifts his eyebrows. “You wanna tell me why you’re still here, tough guy?”

“Um,” mutters Ian. “Thing is, I really need some cash. It’s why I was doing this in the first place.” He looks deep into Mickey’s eyes, his bottom lip quivering slightly. “I’m pretty desperate.”

Mickey sighs. He figured Ian must be in serious need of money, to try and rob a store like this without clearly possessing the skills to pull it off. And he definitely knows what it’s like, living around these parts, doing anything you can to feed your family.

Mickey himself only got this job after prison because of a Milkovich family connection, after all. Otherwise, who knows what he’d be doing to scrounge up some cash. Maybe he’d also be dumb enough to hang around after a failed stick-up where the guy you tried to rob ended up stealing your own gun from out of your hands.

He eyes Ian silently for a while, then makes a decision. He doesn’t know why he does it–it goes against all logic. This guy must have really gotten under his skin, with those stupid puppy eyes and soft voice.

He gets out a few bills from the pocket of his jeans. “Look, here’s like, 50 bucks. I ain’t got much more than that on me, but. Maybe this can help you get by for a bit. Find a way to get cash that maybe doesn’t involve tryin’ your hand at fuckin’ armed robbery.” Mickey arches an eyebrow, handing Ian the scrunched up bills.

Ian gapes at him. Doesn’t make a move to take the money, causing Mickey to revisit the theory that there must be something wrong with his brain. He tries to be patient, though–give Ian a chance to get over whatever is going on in his head right now.

“You–” He closes his mouth, clears his throat, tries again. “You’re giving me fifty bucks of your own money, just like that? After I tried to rob your store?”

“It ain’t my store. I just work here.”

“Still. I mean–”

“Take it or leave it, man. I ain’t got all day.” Mickey’s patience is starting to wear thin. It’s bad enough he’s doing this, he’s definitely not about to explain his reasons to Ian right now.

“Okay, alright.” Ian reaches out to take the money from Mickey, his expression still wary. He’s probably thinking how this is a little too good to be true, how there must be a catch. That’s what Mickey would be thinking.

He finally seems to settle once he puts the money safely in his own pocket, while Mickey goes to put the gun away under the counter.

This is it, right?

Surely Ian will just leave now–he won’t still hang around the store like an idiot, not after somehow getting way more out of this than he ever had a claim to. Right?

And yet, there he still is. Shuffling his feet and looking down at his shoes, like he’s steeling himself for what’s next.

“Um… shit. Thank you. You really didn’t have to… I was such an asshole coming in with a gun like that. This is not shit I would normally do.”

“Yeah, no shit,” says Mickey, an edge of amusement to his voice.

Ian smiles. Fuck, that’s his first genuine smile Mickey has seen. He has trouble breathing for a second. 

“Anyway,” Ian says, looking down, still smiling. “I just wanted to say sorry, I guess. And I’ll get this money back to you as soon as I can, I promise.”

There’s something about how serious Ian looks as he says it. The firm set of his jaw, chin lifted, eyes clear. Mickey believes him. He believes Ian will do everything in his power to get him his money back.

“Whatever, man,” he says dismissively despite it all, falling back on his instincts.

Ian is undeterred. “You’ll see,” he says, with another bright smile. Then, realizing, “Oh shit. I don’t even know your name.”

That was on purpose, Mickey almost says. But at the moment, he can’t really see any harm in revealing his name to Ian.

“Mickey.”

Ian grins and nods minutely. “Alright. I’ll see you soon, Mickey.”

He moves toward the door, ready to leave the store at last, apparently satisfied now that he’s got fifty bucks in his pocket and Mickey’s name on his lips.

“Yeah, yeah. You know where to find me, asshole!”

One last beaming smile, and Ian is gone.

Mickey would be lying to himself if he said he’s not hoping Ian makes good on his promise. One thing’s for sure: it’s definitely not his money he’ll be pining after till the day Ian finally walks back into that store.

---

thanks to @shameless-notashamed for reading this over!

[cdroloisms]

idk why but i imagined vegas 2.0 as two soccer moms (the politics bois) trying to outdo each other while their sons are dragged into it (green bois) in a rlly fvcked way. e.g.

maybe big q reconsidering dream's usefulness by saying sam's enough as protection and has other things to offer to the team as well. wilbur steps in by suggesting a duel between sam and dream then, to prove it then. maybe while it happens, wilbur whispers to quackity a list of what is still physically broken abt dream post prison (so many unhealed bones, barely healed muscle, he can barely stomach food so he had like 1 steak in the past few days, etc.) and of course, he mentions dream's most powerful asset, the revive book :)

-🐇

LMAOO

this is hilarious and also accurate as hell ,, thank you anon because the image of c!wilbur and c!quackity as PTA moms is completely sending me. this prompt (as most vt2 related things are) was really fun !! it also kinda ran away from me, which is why this ended up being almost 6k words instead of my usual 1-2k for asks, but i hope you enjoy it regardless :]

tws: implied torture/abuse, death, violence, blood, injuries, conditioning, dehumanization, panic attacks, emotional distress, trauma, unhealthy relationships (so many unhealthy relationships), smoking, dark contents, dark themes, vt2 au is always really dark so definitely proceed with caution !! dark portrayals of c!quackity, c!sam, c!wilbur, and c!dream

It starts, as many things do nowadays, with a board meeting - which seems to be as much of a sign as any that everything is going to go to shit. Board meetings for Quackity, much like Wilbur’s stupid group therapy sessions, are just a thinly veiled attempt for the two to fight for control of pretty much everything - ranging from the casino schedules to the laws still being written for Las Nevadas to what food to stock in the vending machines. As Sam is still sitting on his false throne of moral superiority and therefore less inclined to indulge himself in the same blatant corruption that characterizes their discussions, and Dream - more than anything - knows his place (which hardly gives him any position to wrangle for power among the likes of Wilbur and Quackity), the fights for control more or less remain restricted between the two. More often than not, they devolve into proving their superiority over the other by using their control of Dream (which naturally never means anything remotely good for him as a consequence) so when Quackity strolls over, all tight-lipped smiles and a cigarette held between clenched fingers, Dream really doesn’t feel anything other than dread.

Still, orders by Quackity are still orders - Dream knows this fact better than he knows that he’s alive and breathing, better than the fact that he’s out of the prison, better than he knows his own goddamn name - and Dream is far too well-trained to ever consider trying to rebel. So when the time comes - 7:30 pm, sharp - Dream is in his chair, spine straight and head alert like a goddamn dog, and he waits.

It doesn’t take long for the others to arrive. Sam comes over first, leveling him with a heavy, distrustful stare as he sits down in the chair across from Dream, the expression nearly enough for Dream to roll his eyes if it weren’t for the fear that rockets through him, still, at the sight of the Warden so close to him. Sam has made it more than clear from the very beginning that he has no trust at all for Dream, that if he had his way then Dream would be locked up for the rest of eternity in a labyrinth of blackstone and obsidian, forever guarded by his ever-present supervision. Dream feels his ears burning with heat as he dips his eyes low to the surface of the table, wanting no more than to curl up and hide under the scrutiny of the Warden’s glare.

Quackity enters next, throwing open the door of the conference room loud enough to make Dream jump out of his seat, looking at him with an upturned corner of his lip when he comes back to himself enough to notice. Dream stifles a shudder at his visible good mood, all-too-aware of what that usually meant for him in the cell, stiffening further with a growing ringing to his ears as Sam and Quackity talk and Quackity sweeps past his side to get to his seat at the head of the table, carelessly brushing his fingers along the back of Dream’s neck in a way that makes him freeze, stock-still, in his chair - feeling his fingertips ease themselves over the ridge present there from a thick band of scar tissue, a deep, jagged thing that had been carved from the blunter back edge of Quackity’s axe when he had lost his temper and let the thing slam against the back of his neck, hard enough that it probably would’ve paralyzed him completely if it weren’t for Sam’s use of almost a full chest of regens. Quackity remains over him for a few more seconds, leaning over his chair to talk to Sam as he runs a light, possessive hand over the topmost bumps of Dream’s spine, before settling over into his chair, watching him with a small smirk as he keeps a white-knuckled grip on the edge of the table.

Dream hates the prickling shame and terror that keeps his muscles tense as he stares at the table’s surface, still feeling the ghost of fingers tracing over skin and bone along the back of his neck, keeps his burning eyes trained on the surface of solid wood as he tries to steady his breaths. It’s all he can do to press down his flinch when Quackity, with a frustrated yell, slams his fist against the table a few minutes later, rage simmering underneath his words as he speaks.

“Where the hell is Wilbur?” His glare slides across the room, landing on Dream, making him shrink back in his seat, heart thudding in his ears. Quackity doesn’t stop staring at him even as he pulls a cigarette and lighter from his pants pocket, lighting it and bringing it to his lips and letting the silver-grey threads of smoke fill the room and press against the inside of Dream’s lungs. “It’s ten minutes til 8 - I don’t have time for this bullshit.”

Sam digs his fingers into his temples, already looking exhausted. “If you want, Q, we can always start without him and catch him up later. Depends on you.”

“No, then I’ll have to repeat myself and it’ll be pointless and ugh,” Quackity makes a vaguely frustrated noise as he finally turns his eyes over to Sam, making Dream’s shoulders shudder as he finally finds the air to take a breath, “We’ll just have to wait. Fucking idiot. I knew I shouldn’t have worked with any of these fuckers.”

In true Wilbur fashion, it isn’t until fifteen minutes later when the taller man finally makes an appearance, the entire time tense as hell as Quackity takes slow, steady drags of his cigarette and taps his fingers impatiently against the table’s surface. He offers one to Sam, who goes on to decline, making a short quip telling Quackity to watch his health for the future that promptly falls flat. Dream thinks he’s a fucking hypocrite, considering his whole deal with weednip or whatever Ant has on him, but doesn’t voice the thoughts as he sinks down in his chair, wishing more than anything to disappear. Against the fabric of his shirt, the right side of his chest itches, and he presses his palm against the place where he knows there is a small, irregular grid of pockmarked scars from when Quackity had taken smoke breaks in the middle of sessions.

“There you all are,” Wilbur smiles as he slides into the room, a covered metal tray held in his hands as he kicks the door closed and slides the tray onto the table with an awful screech. “I’m sorry for being late,” he continues, sounding not very sorry at all, “but I made some food to make up for it!”

He takes off the cover with a flourish; underneath, sunny yellow squares, nearly blindly bright, look up blankly under the conference room’s overly harsh lighting. They smell sugary and vaguely sour, stinging his nose slightly, and seem to be coated with a fine dusting of powdered sugar.

“Lemon bars!” Wilbur grins, just left of sincere, “they’re gluten-free!”

“God,” Quackity laughs, sounding slightly incredulous, shaking his head. Dream’s gut rolls at the sound, Wilbur’s smile growing wider, even more dangerous, at the tone. It’s familiar, the way the two of them challenge each other, and in a rare moment of solidarity Dream watches from the corner of his eyes as Sam’s shoulders hunch as well. The two of them always bring trouble, even normally, but when they’re in this mood? Actively challenging each other, toeing the line, trying to find the limits and push them just because they can? Dream shivers in his seat, grip tightening on his own arms; this, he knows, is when they are at their most dangerous - and he has the scars to prove it.

“Gluten-free, huh? Really leaning into the whole ‘PTA mom’ schtick today, aren’t you?” Quackity smirks. “Should I call you Linda from now on?”

“I don’t know, Quackity, I was just thinking that I would make a little healthier treat for all of us, you know?” Wilbur brushes off the remark easily, taking a seat and immediately kicking his feet up onto the table. “If you want it, of course. I would hardly want to get in the way of your professionalism, Mr. President- do you have one of those? Or are you going for a more authoritarian approach”

“Fighting words from someone who rigged an election as President,” Quackity drawls, “and couldn’t even win it, might I add. “

“Oh, Big Q! You fail to understand, I wasn’t criticizing you at all,” Wilbur smiles, jagged, “we agree, I believe, on the failures of democracy. Unless you’ve forgotten our conversation, already?”

“Of course not,” Quackity snorts, and Dream doesn’t miss how his gaze shifts towards the side of the room, landing on Dream and making him curl further in his seat. “I’ll save you from me trying to pick your brain, this time, but don’t worry. You make yourself…rather hard to forget.”

Wilbur claps, seeming satisfied with this round of verbal sparring, and the sharp sound of his hands meeting together nearly has Dream jumping in his seat. “So! Lemon bars- does anyone want any?”

Dream is keenly aware of two pairs of eyes landing on him, Wilbur and Quackity watching for his reaction with bated breath and narrowed eyes. Panic crawls up his throat; he knows the purpose behind their stares, knows that he’s once again become the object of one of their power struggles. Quackity’s orders rattle in his brain, his thoughts a messy jumble of pins all knocked loose from his time in the prison, hopelessly unorganized and running on little more than instinct. Wilbur is expecting him to eat, to give into his sweet pastries and sweeter words; the lesson not to eat, move, think without permission, hammered into him between chunks of potato and battered ribs and blood gathered in the crevices of his skin, keeps his hands at his sides instead of reaching towards the pastries still set in the middle of the table. Even with Quackity at the opposite side of the room, Dream swears that he can still feel the pressure of a hand against the back of his neck, pressing just hard enough to make itself known from the feeling of fingers pressing into either side of his spine - he doesn’t even quite feel himself shaking his head, only really realizes what he’s done when he hears Wilbur sigh in frustration and meets Quackity’s satisfied gaze.

“I’ll take one,” Sam says, sounding exhausted, eyes flitting from Wilbur to Quackity to Dream with an increasingly long-suffering expression. His face twists around the first bite of the bright yellow pastry, nose scrunching as he puts it down, missing a half-moon bite along one corner, and drags his fingers over the table to ease off the remnants of powdered sugar. Wilbur watches him, seeming amused, and Quackity rolls his eyes as he pulls a binder out of his inventory.

“Now that everyone is finally here,” he starts, directing a particularly dead-eyed stare at Wilbur, “we can finally get on with the meeting. I was thinking we could go over the budget, today, if that’s alright with the rest of you.”

It sounds innocent enough - which is the first sign of many that this meeting, whatever it is, is going to be anything but pleasant. The grin that steadily grows on Quackity’s face does nothing to assuage Dream’s anxieties, only pushing them higher as the man flips open the binder and messes with it for a few seconds longer before seemingly finding what he’s looking for.

“I think we all know that until Sam finishes with the bank, funds around here are going to be a little bit tight,” Quackity begins, waiting for all of them to nod before continuing, “And we really need to save wherever we can. I recounted the budget yesterday, just to make sure that we’re all on track, and- well,”

Quackity points to a circled series of red numbers that Dream doesn’t understand but can assume mean little good for them. Sam makes a low, considering noise, sounding strangely concerned, and Wilbur actually seems to close his mouth and lean forward in curiosity.

“We have a deficit,” Quackity continues when they’ve all settled back into their seats, “and we’ll get it all back once Sam gets the bank up and running, but for now our funds are...limited. I don’t want to stop progress on Las Nevadas, of course, we really don’t have time to waste. So I thought we’d have a meeting today to discuss the budget and eliminate any expenses that we might find-” Quackity gestures with a smooth twirl of his wrist, “expendable.”

Sam hums. “Do you have anything in mind, Quackity?”

“A few,” Quackity flips to the next page, where he’s seemingly jotted a few notes - different things that they can put off for the moment, it seems, and the money that would be saved for forgoing them temporarily. Dream reads down the list quickly, stilling at the last item.

“Quackity,” Sam sounds twenty times more tired already when he speaks, tone flat and a little irritated. “Why is Dream on the list?”

Quackity shrugs. “Hear me out, now- most of our money right now is going into living expenses for the four of us. Having more people here, until everything becomes more sustainable, is a huge drain on our resources. I’m just listing all our options.”

“So what do you want to do?” Sam huffs. “Throw him back in Pandora?”

Quackity shakes his head.

“Wilbur does have the revive book knowledge, you know,” he says, and Dream’s blood runs cold. He can’t run, can’t move; he’s stuck in his seat, heart hammering faster in his chest as the other three hardly spare him a second glance. Sam purses his lips, a considering expression flashing over his face, as Quackity presses on. “Seriously- listen, Sam. There’s nothing that Dream is really offering, at the moment, that the rest of us can’t handle. Wilbur has the revive book, you can act as security to take out any threats - really, we shouldn’t be pissing anyone off until everything officially opens, and we can always retrieve him then when we need him. He’ll be out of the way, which means he won’t be able to start any fucking trouble,” Quackity laughs, short. “It’s a win-win.”

“I don’t know, Quackity,” Sam says, the words slow, but the tone is familiar enough for Dream to know that he’s already mostly given in. “It’s a risk, isn’t it? None of us but Dream have really used the revive book, before.”

Wilbur doesn’t even look at him when he chirps a reply. “That won’t be a problem, Sam. I’d be very happy to test it out, if you want.”

Quackity leans forward, and Dream nearly gags; he’s preening in his spot, eyes dancing as he smiles up at Sam. “Anything else you can think of?”

“I don’t know,” Sam trails off, and Dream looks down, only barely staving off the panic squeezing around his lungs and tears burning in his eyes. It’s nothing he hasn’t envisioned before, nothing he hasn’t expected, but this- he feels like such a fool, for hoping- “If we get ambushed, Q, I really don’t know if gear is going to be enough. You remember what Technoblade did last time.”

Quackity huffs, sounding annoyed, but nods to concede the point. “That is...fair. But then again, we don’t exactly know how good Dream is either, do we?” Quackity finally leans over to look at him, and Dream feels himself choke on his own breath at the dangerous gleam in Quackity’s eyes, all-too-familiar in their scrutiny, looking at him the same way they had pinned him to the floor of his obsidian-walled hell. “Anything to say, Dream?”

“I-” The words shake on Dream’s tongue, and he only barely manages a dry swallow as he struggles through the rest of his sentence, shrinking back from the heavy weight of three pairs of eyes fixed on his own, “I can be useful, s-” he only barely manages to bite down the word, a new wave of shame making him shrink back further past the fear. Quackity’s lip twitches upward.

Wilbur twirls a pencil in one hand, looking spectacularly bored; Dream’s chest shrieks with a harsh spike of envy at his composure. “How about you prove it?” His eyes are laughing when Dream gets a good look at them, amusement clear at the idea. “Put on a show?”

Quackity rolls his eyes. “What do you have in mind?”

“You want to know if Sam can serve as an adequate replacement for Dream’s combat prowess, no?” Wilbur leans back in his chair as he talks, still focused on spinning his pencil over and between his fingers, “Why doesn’t he prove it? Let them duel, one on one. If Sam kills Dream, then you’re right, we’re done, and we can all move on with our days. If Dream wins, then he’s proved his worth, and we can figure out the rest of the budget after. What do you think?”

Quackity’s lips press together, seeming displeased, but he doesn’t say anything in return. Sam, ever practical, drums his fingers against the table.

“That sounds...fair,” Sam purses his lips. “How would we judge this? Equal gear?”

Wilbur only smiles wider as he shakes his head. “I was thinking we would make it a little more accurate to reality, if Dream’s services were truly to be needed. Sam, you can keep your own gear, and Dream should use his own. I guess on your end we can fight until you yield, but for him…”

The words are left unsaid, but Dream flexes his hands underneath the table as he catches onto the implications. For him, it’s a fight to the death.

Sam shrugs. “That works for me. Dream?”

He doesn’t really have a choice, does he? “Okay.”

“Wonderful!” Wilbur claps, bringing his hands to his chest and looking thoroughly thrilled at the prospects of the potential duel. Quackity glares at Dream but doesn’t say a word, and Dream hunches into himself, nearly folding himself in half as he ducks as far as he can down his seat. Sam pulls out his sword, flipping it around and testing its weight, and Dream doesn’t quite manage to suppress his full-body shudder at the sight. “Let’s get started, then.”

They move out in a roughly single-file line out of the conference room, Wilbur making idle chatter as Sam continues to examine his armor and weapons as they walk. They settle into an open space in the still-unfinished casino that Wilbur looks around for a second and then deems appropriate for the duel. Sam sets down an enderchest to gather his necessary materials, and Dream settles in front of it himself afterwards, shifting the lid open with shaking hands as he tries to work through his inventory.

He’s started the process of building up his gear again in his spare time, but he’s not had the time to finish gathering netherite for both himself and Wilbur - Wilbur meets his eyes with a sly wink before equipping the set of netherite armor that Dream had crafted for him, and Dream stifles a desperate snarl. He doesn’t even have the other set (still a gleaming blue from unplated diamond) enchanted, outside of a Sharpness book that he had slapped onto a diamond axe. He gathers the rest of his supplies with careful hands, trying to press down the increasing trembling of his limbs from his growing panic, flexing his arm around the weight of a shield once again and pocketing steaks and golden apples from his hoard.

He has no potions, no good weapons, not even a properly enchanted crossbow to offer the slightest bit of an advantage. Dream lets his eyes flick up to where Sam is waiting at the opposite side of the room, standing up straight with enchanted netherite covering him head to toe and a familiar axe slung over his shoulder, and tries not to break down right then and there. It’s too familiar, too reminiscent of obsidian walls and netherite pressed against his ribs and demands that he behave, and despite the glittering white walls and high ceiling and cold night air he swears he could fall just from the memories alone. Drowning within them, he distantly remembers a duel long-past under a bright blue sky, Sam laughing under a swirl of potion particles on the grass surrounding the Community House lake, and wonders which of the memories hurt more.

“Dream,” Quackity snaps, and Dream stills in his place, slamming the lid of the enderchest shut as his heart hammers in his ears. Quackity watches him intently, expression twisted in disappointment, and some beaten, instinctual part of him whines uncomfortably at the sight. “Hurry up.”

Dream nods, because of course he does, and stands with the results of his mad scramble to gather anything that could be useful in the duel to come - a few gapples, steaks, a sword, a bow lacking any enchantments at all, and an axe and shield. It’s a rather pathetic ensemble, but it’ll be enough. It’ll have to be enough.

“Ready?” Wilbur takes place as referee, standing off to the side with a smile on his face as Dream stands across from Sam, holding his axe with a white-knuckled grip as the Warden - expression unreadable through the shadow of his helmet and the mask fixed over his face - squares his own stance in preparation for the fight. “Good luck.”

Wilbur’s arm cuts a line in the air as it drops, and the Warden explodes into action, lumbering forward as he raises his axe over his head to bring it down. Dream tumbles in the opposite direction, letting a long held back, battle-trained part of himself take over as he rights himself back on his feet, swinging up his shield to catch on the downward arc of Warden’s Hammer, frantically pressing back the dregs of fear and panic staining the corners of his vision black as he moves.

The Warden hits slow but hits hard, too big and bulky to really avoid any quick attacks but too well-armored to be easily defeated despite that. He’s a classic tank - Dream skitters out of the way of another hit as he reaches for memories of him that won’t leave him gasping, information on his opponent that didn’t come from within the prison and all its horrors.

He’d dueled Sam before, he knows; it wasn’t the same, as Sam was trying out a Turtle Master potion and intent on proving the superiority of Resistance IV against Dream’s own combat prowess. He’d failed, then; Dream forcefully steadies another breath as the sound of the Warden’s armor clanking against the ground almost sends him into another panic. He’ll have to fail now, too.

Fortunately, he’s been allowed food to heal - without it, this fight would probably be near impossible. As it is, even without the potion, the principles of this duel are the same. Dream swings up his axe, catching the blade hurling towards him in the crook where the head meets the handle just long enough to pull himself out of the way and let the Warden’s weapon fall uselessly to the ground. Dream raises his head in the second he has, tracing his gaze over the Warden’s armor in search for places to exploit. Even the best defenses aren’t perfect. All he needs to do is survive for long enough to chip through it.

A fumbled dodge leads to the Warden’s blade skimming past his skin, carving a thin red line in the skin of his upper arm. He hisses as he dives out of the way of the next blow, the twinges of pain from the area almost enough to make his vision unfocused, almost enough to send him tumbling head-first into the part of him screaming submit submit submit if you don’t fight back they won’t hurt you more. He grits his teeth as he swings forward, knocking away the axe coming towards him with his axe long enough to push forward with his shield and knock the Warden further away from him. He can’t afford to flinch, can’t afford to let fear take control of his movements as it has so many times before. The keening desperation running through his veins is familiar, but desperation can fall both ways, can make him fight or flee - and there’s only one real option that will end with him getting out of this alive.

Dream stands and forces himself to meet the next swing hurling towards him dead on, raising his shield to catch the blade and pushing forward past the shuddering shock in his left arm from the force of the blow. His own blade arcs downward in the next second, scraping against the Warden’s netherite armor with a metallic screech. He manages to get in two more blows before the Warden’s next attack has him backing away to dodge, shaking off his arm to get his shield ready for the next attack.

He has to stay on the offensive, keep pressing the Warden back and forcing the other to play defense. He’s still weak from the prison; in terms of brute strength, he’s no match from the Warden, not after months of starvation and torture stuck in a box with hardly enough room to stretch his legs. All he really has going for him is his speed and his experience, neither of which will do him any good if he teeters over the edge into the panic attack he’s been trying to hold off the entire time. Dream runs forward, not giving himself more than a second to breathe as he rushes the Warden once again, switching weapons mid-leap to a sword that will allow for quicker blows in the time that he has the Warden off-balance enough to attack freely. He scores a series of glancing hits on the Warden, none doing any major damage but altogether enough to make the Warden back off, wary, with a gasping note of pain, and Dream shakes his head to force himself to focus before running forward once more.

The Warden pulls out a shield of his own, and Dream switches back to the axe and swings it squarely into the shield, then twists himself around to the Warden’s unprotected back to catch him with another heavy blow that leaves him reeling in the second he takes to recover. He’s clearly untrained with a shield, his left arm clumsy as he tries to block Dream’s blows, and Dream uses the opportunity to score another few solid hits to the Warden’s sides and legs, getting a good blow with the blunt side of his axe into the back of one of his knees, leaving the warden limping when he pulls away.

Dream has hardly come off unscathed in the fight - he wheezes out a heavy breath through his teeth, chest aching from a hit that had broken one of his ribs. The exertion and anxiety still pressing at the back of his throat has left him light-headed, and he bites through a crisp, almost sickeningly-sweet bite of golden apple to close a wound bleeding sluggishly on his side. Neither of them can go on for much longer; the Warden’s grip tightens on his axe, and Dream swallows past the shudder that arises from the sight.

Once again, he raises his axe and runs into the fight, parrying the coming strike and twisting out of the way to strike at a joint of the Warden’s armor with the flat of his blade. The Warden’s arm raises, and Dream bites off a yelp of alarm as the handle of his axe is levied against his unarmored side, knocking him off-balance and falling back onto the ground, too disoriented to catch himself. He lands on his left arm, and his vision goes white as it gives out with a sharp crack.

Through half-lidded eyes, he can make out the Warden stalking closer, axe raised and ready to end the fight - end him. His chest shakes in a pathetic wheeze for breath, arm completely useless from where it’s screaming in pain underneath him. He needs to move, now, if he wants to survive this - fear swells forward, unhindered as his focus is broken by the vice grip the pain has on his skull - he’s shaking, now, the terror so familiar he can taste it - salt and iron and sticky-sweet health potions against the backs of his teeth-

The Warden raises his axe.

No.

Dream raises his sword just in time to catch the blade hurtling towards his neck, uses his foot to kick against the Warden’s grip on the handle. The axe clatters out of his grip, falls forward - Dream rolls away, breathing harshly around the pain threatening to make him black out. Unarmed, the Warden takes a second to grab a sword from his inventory while Dream forces himself back to his feet and kicks the axe as far away as he can.

He’s so flooded with panic he’s choking on it, broken arm hanging limply by his side as he charges forward, sword in hand. He won’t die, not after all this time, not after all this effort - he throws himself at the Warden, batters him with jabs and thrusts that force the other man to back away and parry, snarling wordlessly as he brings his sword to slash forward again and again.

His attacks are messy, uncoordinated, but the Warden is tired and disoriented from the loss of his weapon - he flinches back as Dream hits him in the jaw with the hilt of his sword, only barely matching his blows as he continues to push forward. Any hits that he scores on Dream are brushed off with a growl of pain and his sword moving even faster in his fury, and it’s not very long at all before he’s knocked flat on his back with a sweep of Dream’s legs, gasping for air as Dream pins him to the ground with a blade pressed against his neck.

Dream meets his wide eyes with his own, lips curled back in the same desperate rage that had moved him forwards despite the black creeping into the corners of his eyes and the lancing pain tying its strings around his neck and leaving him gasping for air. The sword in his hand bears threads of blood along its edge, pressing deeper into the Warden’s neck and drawing crimson up to the surface - a thousand fearful, angry thoughts swell up to the front of his skull in a singular, white-hot point. It is the Warden underneath his feet, at the end of his blade, cowering beneath him as he had cowered before - the Warden, the cause of his pain, the reason behind the ache in his gut and the stinging pains in his limbs and the piercing agony from his arm and chest. It would be so easy to push just a little harder, to press the sweet blue blade down and down and down until the Warden is gone and the Warden is dead and the Warden can’t hurt him anymore-

“Down, Dream,” Quackity snaps, and Dream backs off immediately, losing his grip on his sword as the command has him dragged back by the neck like an invisible leash and collar pulling him away. Sam settles back in a sitting position, still wide-eyed, wincing as he moves and bringing a golden apple from his inventory to heal the worst of his injuries.

“Eat,” Quackity commands again, and Dream only barely manages a stiff nod through the nausea and dread curling around his chest as the adrenaline begins to fade away, fumbling with the golden apple he finds in his inventory and nibbling at it to tide off the worst of the pain.

“Bravo, bravo,” Wilbur grins from the side, clapping slowly as he walks back into the middle of their makeshift arena - he’s taken his armor off again, but it doesn’t make the sight of him any less intimidating. “What a show! We should do that more often, what do you think?”

No, Dream almost screams, I can’t- but Quackity beats him to it, glaring at Wilbur with an incredulous expression.

“We don’t have the time to waste on your fucking ‘shows,’” he snaps, crossing his arms as he swings his gaze over to Dream. “Fine. You’ve proved yourself. Now hurry up - we have to clean up all of this shit and then figure out the rest of this fucking budget.”

Dream pulls himself to his feet, watching from the side as the Warden does the same.

“Make yourself useful and clean off all your fucking blood from the floor,” Quackity meets his eyes with a vicious glare, waiting until he stammers his way through an agreement before turning to the other two in the room. “Sam, Wilbur - with me. I want to get this money issue figured out tonight.”

Dream watches them go as he shuffles to the cleaning closet, feeling a shudder crawl up his spine once they’re out of sight. Make yourself useful, Quackity’s voice rings in his head, and Dream bites his lip, only stopping when he accidentally breaks through skin and the taste of blood floods his tongue.

He has a feeling that those words are going to haunt him for a long, long time.

[fangirleaconmigo]

Interested in my smutty Geralt x Regis x Dandelion headcanon? It is NSFW once you are past the ‘read more’ line. 

*This is 100% books. I haven’t played the games.*

For most of Baptism of Fire, Geralt is in excruciating pain of every kind, sleep deprived, and in acute emotional distress. As a result he is moody, angry, and sometimes hostile. 

So let’s start there, where Geralt attacks Cahir (If you’ve only seen the show, just trust me, Cahir is HUGELY different in the books. It’s like a different character. So just tuck that away and continue as though they are allies and eventually even friends.)

In the books, Milva gets off her horse, and whips both of their asses to separate them. These men are getting on every last nerve she possesses. 

So in my imagination world, Milva then takes Regis aside. She’s like...if you don’t do something about this, I am going to stab someone. I’m going to stab all of you fuckers.

Regis is like...of course I want to help. But what can I do? I’m a barber surgeon, yes, but I can hardly do a better job of healing his injuries than the dryads did. And if I could make Ciri magically appear in our path safe and sound I would have already done it.

Milva is like...I’m not asking for miracles, vampire. Just help him...let go...of some of his stress.

And Regis is like...ummmmm how?

And she’s fed up at this point so she’s just like...all you guys ever do is think with your dicks anyway, please for once do that in a helpful fucking way.

And she walks away.

A very warm and interested smile spreads on Regis’s face as he watches her go, deep in thought. He decides to conscript Dandelion in this effort.

So they manage to steer the company’s travels somewhere with a nice inn. They take Geralt to bed. 

This is how I picture the dynamic. 

Let’s start with Geralt. Geralt may be a slut but he isn’t especially adventurous about sex. He’s a bit uptight about even discussing sex openly. He also believes he is ugly. He is repulsed by his own appearance. This is all canon. I’m not pulling quotes at the moment because I have horny headcanons to write on tumblr. But this is all true.

Now there’s Regis, Mr. “I give speeches to my friends about sex positivity at every chance.” He is extremely (to some) off-putting in his casual openness about sex. And he loves to talk. Geralt tries to pretend he doesn’t like it from time to time but for the most part he’s like a wide eyed, easily impressed youth when it comes to Regis. (In his defense, Regis is incredibly experienced and wise and knows practically everything. He’s an ancient well traveled vampire ffs!) Geralt flat out worships him.

Now, Dandelion. What can we say about Dandelion except that he’s a giant slut as well as a poet. In the books he’s far smoother than Jaskier. He has a silver tongue and he’s handsome and he has blonde hair which he hot rolls into ringlets. He’s so gorgeous he’s sometimes mistaken for an elf. 

So based on this evidence, here are my thoughts on this.

Obviously, Geralt is the cream filling of this delicious pastry. They would just take him the fuck apart.

Regis and Dandelion would undress him and spread him out on the bed. They expect to have to urge him to relax, given how angry and moody he’s been, and given what they know about his reticence and his self image. But he just sort of blinks and nods. He lets them undress him and he lays down naked and lets his legs fall open. 

He looks so hopeful and vulnerable.

Dandelion would kiss him everywhere. Just beginning the body worshipping right away.

Regis would guide him through it. Tell him what to do. “Turn over, darling. Just close your eyes. Open up now Geralt. Relax. Tilt up your ass? Good boy. Now doesn’t that feel amazing? Now Dandelion, don’t you think Geralt wants his tits played with? Yes, like that, listen to our beautiful Geralt moaning so sweetly.”

And every time Dandelion’s mouth is free (not filled with Geralt’s tits or cock) he would be narrating in the most poetic and filthy ways, describing how Geralt looks on his knees, how he feels sucking cock. He would run his fingers over Geralt’s stretched lips and describe his beauty in the most glowing, lovely, horny terms. He would use the adjectives Geralt has heard him use for angels, but with the sentiments he’s heard him express at brothels.

Geralt had a moment when they walked into the room where he thought he would leave. Or where he would insist they just fuck in the dark without all these bells and whistles. He knew they expected that from him. And he also did.

But this journey has broken him down and he needs it. He knows he needs it. He’s a husk of a person. So for once he just lays himself bare. It is difficult at first. When Dandelion tells him that his lips look so lovely or his cock is stunning, a voice in him tells him this is all lies. Or at least it isn’t objective. It’s Dandelion. Dandelion adores him against all sensibility. He’s hardly sane.

But Regis can see him getting in his head. And every time he does, Regis tells him to refocus on what he’s feeling...urges him to concentrate on the sensations. He fills his ass so full as Dandelion sucks him off that he literally can’t think straight enough for that self hating voice to find its train of thought. 

Then something happens. He just shuts off his thoughts. He takes comfort in doing exactly as he’s told. Trusts in Regis’s voice. Regis is wise. He knows everything, right? So if he says this is where Geralt belongs, on his knees, receiving everything they have to give, then that must be true. After believing that, it’s a short leap to believing the stream of praise from Dandelion. Geralt begins blooms like a fucking flower at all of the compliments.

He closes his eyes and lets their hands caress him, massage him, tug him, adore him. He does as he’s told. Lets himself react without thinking about it. 

He tilts his face up. Pushes out his ass. Glides his hands over his own body as though he is a gift. He lets himself believe them, that he is gorgeous and precious and the sexiest creature in creation. He cums three times over the course of the night, and then after it’s all done he just sobs while Regis cradles him and pets him and chants “just let it go” while Dandelion spoons him from behind and places little kisses on his neck and back, making sure not to miss a single freckle. 

Once he catches his breath, and cries out everything, they clean him off with a warm towel. They kiss him everywhere again, but this time in a way that isn’t for the purposes of arousing him. Just to worship his body. Then Dandelion sings him to sleep as they both have legs and arms thrown over him.

In the morning he’s a new man. 

Milva pledges her eternal allegiance to them both. She even makes the fish stew.

[delilah-briarwood]

our bodies, possessed by light

A moodboard for our bodies, possessed by light by @bisexualoftheblade and @corvidtowers as part of @podcastbigbang

Image ID under cut

[Image ID: A nine picture moodboard in a 3X3 format. The top row from left to right: The first picture is a sketched white eye on a black background with ‘Don’t lie to me’ written in two parts above and below it. The second photo is of two hands reaching to and clasping together. Both are white. The one on the left is wearing a grey jumper and the one on the right is wearing a dark orange shirt. The third photo is a silver lighter on a white background. It is engraved with ‘burn the fucker down’.

The middle row from left to right: The first photo is the torso of a white woman. She is wearing a long-sleeved black shirt and a tartan skirt. She’s carrying a pile of five books in her hand. The second image is a red background with ‘Not evil, just hurt’ written across in white lettering. The third photo is of a white man’s torso. He is wearing a red button up with diagonal dark grey stripes. The top few buttons are undone and he’s wearing a white shirt underneath.

The bottom row from left to right: The first photo is of a black fire extinguisher on a white background. The second photo is a sketch of two hands clasped together. It has a slight red filter over the top. The last image is a black background with the outline of a white hand surrounded by flames drawn over the top]

[scary-lasagna]

Hello! Could you please give me a quick summary of Zalgo's story? I wanna be a demon fucker, but alas, I know nothing about the demon I wanna fuck. -Unus anon

From the wiki: 

Zalgo, full name Zalgatoth (nerd), is the personification of chaos and evil. He’s depicted as having jet-black skin and wearing silver armor crowned with black lightning. His true form consists of seven mouths speaking in six tongues, the seventh being the one to sing to end the world, and four arms that hold a black hole and a candle of darkness rather than light. 

He lives in a place of tortured glass, served by minions formed from the tears of the undead, and each one clad in armor carved from the concentrated suffering from grieving mothers.

He’s op as f u c k and can tear apart realities. His power comes from his demonic background, the candle he holds, and the countless slaves he’s captured. He is currently focusing on corrupting comic strips for some fucking reason i don't know?? Theoretically, the only way to weaken him is by destroying the candle.

Kitty’s twist:

Zalgo is an eldritch demonic entity with a long-term goal to end the human race and absorb their souls for ultimate power. He has shadow-toned skin with an iridescent ruby stroking the sides of his torso, collar bone, cheeks, and limbs. Armor is unnecessary unless in battle, or he’s trying to impress another entity. 

His six mouths stay in function in this lesser form. His higher form consists of seven unhinged mouths, a snout with 6 inch long teeth, 6 eyes in a uniform pattern, split horns that face forward, longer limbs with 6 inch claws, anthropomorphic legs, and an exoskeleton that doubles as armor on top of having a cool aesthetic. The time spent in his higher form solely depends on how many souls he’s consumed, how fresh they are, how much power they’ve held in life, and how devoted they are to him. 

He lives in a castle of tortured glass, and steals worthy souls from The Pit to serve as his minions. Sometimes he’ll manipulate and recruit young demons to serve more useful roles such as guards and magic-welders.

The only time he is able to tear apart realities is a certain doomsday when the stars align, he possesses all relics of darkness and has collected enough souls to stay in his higher form longer than a few days, and he has collected certain souls that hold much more power than the average joe.

The main reason he’s corrupting comics is to gain followers, and as you can tell by reading this...it’s already worked on you.

[lilchibi-chan]

Hawks Mafia! AU x Reader

Part 2. Here is part 1 and thanks so much for the support on the first post.

It’s the next morning and you wake up around 10:30. You decided to call your boss and inform her about what happened last night and that you would most likely be taking some time off. She was very understanding and told you to take as much time as you needed. She was still willing to pay you the same amount for the time you would eventually miss. You thank her for her kindness and she informs you that it’s no problem at all and she thinks of you as one of her own.

You had started working at the diner to help pick up what financial aid didn’t pay for and you were set on quitting after you graduated, but you couldn’t find the heart to leave. You grew to love the people that came in and your boss. You’ve even spent holidays with her the times you couldn’t get home. You start thinking about all the memories you have working at the diner and suddenly your phone rings. It’s Hawks.

“Hello,” you say, a small hint of tiredness still in your voice

“Mornin’ baby bird,” he says so happily that you can basically see his smile on your side of the phone

“Morning,” you say, a yawn escaping your mouth

“So what’re you doing right now,” he asks, genuinely curious

“Well I was about to get a cup of coffee and make myself something to eat,”

“Well how about instead of doing that, I kidnap you and take you out to eat,” he says, pleased with himself

You smile and let a small laugh escape your mouth.

“I would love that, but I’m not even close to being dressed.”

You take a look at the clock and its 11:15

You take a moment to think about it and think that this could be a good thing.

“How soon will you be here” you ask 

“Look out your window, humming bird”

You go to your window and open the curtain. You see him, standing outside his car, which is below your window.

“How-when-”

“Don’t worry about it, baby bird. Just go get ready and I’ll see you when you get down here”

“How should I dress”

“For brunch”

He hangs up right after and you go through your closet trying to figure out what to wear.

You finally decide on a white mock neck bodysuit, light wash skinny jeans and a pair of nude patent leather pumps.

You quickly shower and get dressed, then put on light makeup. You grab a jacket just in case and your purse and head down to meet Hawks.

He smiles as soon as you walk out and rushes over to help you down the stairs. Once you make it down, he walks with you to the car, still hand in hand and opens the door for you.

“Such a gentleman,” you say, somewhat mockingly

“Only when I need to be,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders and a cocky smile, that you can’t help but smile back in response to

“So where are you taking me,” you ask curious

“It’s a surprise” he says with a side smile

“Don’t worry baby bird. You’ll see soon enough”

With that, he drives off. After 15 minutes, he pulls up in front of a hotel. He opens the door for you to exit the car and puts a hand out for you. You take his hand and you enter the gorgeous hotel. He walks straight in past reception and walks to the restaurant that is on the same floor as the lobby.

The host automatically escorts you both to a private room and your mind starts to wander. You figured he was rich and in some type of position of power, but you were still unsure of how much he actually possessed.

After the host leaves you two, Hawks pulls out a chair for you to sit down. You thank him and take a seat. After pushing you in, he takes his and hands you a menu.

As your analyzing the menu, you can’t stop thinking about Hawks and what he does. You wanna know more about him, but you also don’t wanna pry if he’s not open to talking about it.

“What’s going on, baby bird? I see those wheels turning in your head,” he says with a smirk

“Ya know for a guy, you’re quite observant”

“I have to be. Ya never know with people. You always gotta watch your back. Especially in a position of power”

“W-what do you do exactly,” you ask, piggybacking off of what he just said,“I noticed when we walked in that you were treated like literal royalty and when you would come to the diner I noticed your clothes were a lot nicer and clean cut than most of the business men that would come in. I figured you had a lot of money, but judging from the way you were treated,it’s more than I initially thought.”

“Well, I “do” a few things. As a matter of fact, I own this hotel. I also own a couple more around the country, we’re looking to expand to others. I have a few businesses I run. Fashion, modeling, and marketing. You could say I’m a man of many talents,” he says with a cocky smirk

You let out a small laugh and the waiter comes in with champagne and some food. He places a plate in front of you with pancakes, eggs, bacon and some syrup on the side. As well as some apple juice, just in case you didn’t want the champagne.

“I ordered ahead for us. I hope you’re okay with your order,” he says hopefully

“It’s fine,” you say smiling

It was a huge plate of food, but you were starving so you were gonna be able to at least finish half and have some for later at home.

Once you both finished at brunch, Hawks took your hand and you both walked out together to his car. He has a very gentle touch when holding your hand. Almost as if, you’re the most precious,fragile thing he could ever hold. Like one small move and you’ll break instantly.

You didn’t even notice, but you were staring at your hands together.

His touch was warm and his hands were soft, despite their rough and manly looking appearance.

You start to admire the details of his hand and the rings he had on.

He let go of your hand, which snapped you out of your trance.

He opens the door for you, then proceeds to the other side of the car as he usually does.

He’s about to pull off, but receives a phone call.

“Hello,” he says stern

The warmth that once filled his was now gone and there was a cold look in his face. Judiging from that, you were convinced what he was just told wasn’t good in the slightest bit.

“Baby bird, I have to drop you home. Something came up at the office and that I need to take care of like right now. I’m so sorry,”

“I could go with you. It’s not I really had anything planned for today,” you say, trying to brighten his mood

He softly smiles at you

“Today’s not really the best day and I’d much rather show you around when I’m in a better mood. How about...I bring you some dinner tonight? Let’s say 8?,” he asks hopefully

“That’s fine,” you say smiling

He kisses your hand

“Thanks, hummingbird. I won’t be late. I promise,” he says, gripping your hand a bit tighter

He drives off and takes you home. He watches as you enter your building, just as he did last night.

He pulls off and makes his way to his office....

Or so you thought

Meanwhile with Hawks

He makes it to a warehouse that’s an hour outside of the city. He made sure to turn his phone off, so that he wouldn’t be found by anyone.

He enters

“Where’s the fucker at,” he asks fuming

“Right inside,sir” Tokoyami says, following Hawks as he makes his way further inside the warehouse

Hawks walks further in and there he is, hand cuffed to a chair.

“Nice to see you, Twice”

He says nothing

“Aww, cat gotcha tongue...don’t worry, we’ll change that,” Hawks says with a menacing smile

He takes off his rings and puts them onto a silver platter that Tokoyami held out for him.

He picks up a steel rod and starts swinging it around,feeling its weight in his hand.

“So Twice, I heard from a little bird, that you’ve been trying to steal my inventory and trying to embezzle money from my company. The funniest part about this is you thought I wouldn’t find out.”

“Ya know if I wasn’t hand cuffed to this fucking chair right now, I could kick your ass,” he says with a smile

Hawks laughs

“Ya know Twice, you would be a better boss if you weren’t so FUCKING sloppy. I mean c’mon. You’ve been in the game longer than I have and you pull something as stupid as trying to steal from me. It’s honestly embarrassing”

He runs a hand through his hair.

“Twice, I’m a nice guy. I really am, so here’s what I’ll do. I’m gonna let you off with a warning.”

He lifts up the steel rod and cracks Twice in the knee.

“Try that shit again and I will break both of your legs or kill you, depends on how generous I’m feeling...Shadow, get him out of here”

Tokoyami does what he’s told and uncuffs Twice’s hands and feet from the chair. He drags him to the back door of the warehouse and throws him out.

“So what now sir,” Tokoyami asks curious

“Now, we prepare for war. Twice isn’t gonna back down that easy just because I threatened him. He’s gonna use whatever he can to get me and what I’ve built. He wants to be number one and he’ll stop at nothing. Little does he know, I’m one tough bastard and I’m gonna fight for what’s mine. Call everyone and have them meet at the house in an hour.”

“But sir, it takes an hour to get back in the city and it’s rush hour by now so-“

“So it should be no problem for everyone to get there on time. Now go call them”

“Yes sir”

With that, Tokoyami exits the warehouse to call the rest of the members.

Hawks makes his way to his car and drives back to the city to make it to his penthouse.

He ends up beating everyone there, but he did drive a little above the speed limit and took some shortcuts he knew, that way he wouldn’t be stopped by police on his way there.

He takes the elevator that only he has access to and goes straight to his penthouse.

He pours himself some scotch as soon as he gets in. He doesn’t usually drink much, but today warranted one. A stiff drink at that.

Soon there were knocks at his door.

“C’mon in boys,” he says, drink in hand

“I’m sure Shadow already briefed on the situation at hand. We’ve dealt with some pretty rough bastards before, but none of them compare to Twice. As I said to Shadow, he’ll use whatever he can to get to me, my business and people I care about. Make sure to never have your guard down and protect yourselves. Brief everyone on your location before and after you leave. I may be hard on you guys, but I’m not gonna lose any of you to him just cause we were ill prepared.”

“You got it boss. Ain’t nothin gonna get past the great King,” Bakugou says

“Yeah boss, we’re the manliest that you’ve got,” Kirishima says

“I knew I could count on you, King and Red”

“M-me too boss. I know I look weak, but I won’t let anyone or anything get to you, us or the people you care about,” Deku says

“Thanks, Deku. I never thought of you as weak by the way. I don’t judge a book because anyone is capable of anything.”

“R-right,” Deku says

Everyone else agrees to follow Hawks’ orders and to be extra vigilant in the coming days. They couldn’t make stupid mistakes. Although Twice is injured, he still has skilled assassins under his thumb and one slip up could cause anyone’s demise.

After everyone leaves, he decides to shower and wash the day off of him. He lets the hot water flow down his body, almost as if it was melting ice off of him. His mind drifted to you and he smiled, but that smile quickly faded when he realized the life he was bring you into and what would happen if Twice ever found out about you and where you live.

He couldn’t tell you about this side of him. He knew you would view him as a monster. This lifestyle was basically an unforgivable one that ended a lot of his relationships in the past. He knew there would come a day when he would have to fess up eventually, but that day wasn’t going to be today. He wants to be able to live in the happy moments he has with you and make them last as long as he can.

Picture 1: Human Tokoyami by ChigoPlush on DeviantArt

Picture 2 by Kiro_Tktr

Hope y’all enjoyed!! I know it’s super long, but I figured I owe you guys that, being that it took so long to come out. Thank y’all for the support on this new fanfic and I’m also wondering if we should give it an actual name. Leave me a comment or reblog with what you think the name should be, if there should be a name.

Tag list: @rozebudx @cpaperheart