#x. IC

[wutheredviolet]

Hypothetical question!

What would you do if you were on a path in the woods where at the end of that path was a cabin and in the basement of that cabin was a princess? And you were there to slay her? Or else it would be the end of the world?

"That'd depend on a lot of things, from if I was sent there, to if I just stumbled across the cabin, what not. What i'd do is probably try and find out why she'll end the world if not killed, unless I already know before hand." And then dispose of the threat, yet it never quite left her lips.

[skipppppy]

I think she’d respect his methodology

[sleepyminty]

Timebomb-Jayvik dynamic is so funny bc we have:

Begrudgingly acknowledge each other despite that one time Ekko haggle the fuck out Jayce and Jayce accidentally polluted the underground

Two strikes and they started throwing slurs at each other

[flightless-peinguin]

Danny finds a new nap spot. Natives are worried.

Ever since Danny became a Halfa, his house hasn't been the safest place to rest at. Its filled with his parents experiments and automatic weaponry and hasn't felt like home for a while. He feels bad having to sleep at Tucker's place and Sam's parents don't really like him but he needs to rest somewhere.

Cue the Ocean 0.0

He hasn't needed to breathe in a long time and having a secondary source of energy for his core would lessen the amount of food he needed to eat.

It's massive and mysterious and he can explore it until his core is satisfied. The sun makes such nice warm spots perfect for naping and with Clockworks help he can make it there in almost no time.

With his parents spending most of the evening and night in their lab or outside the house, he can spend most of his night sleeping there and with a semi-regular sleep schedule at that.

No one even notices hes gone.

The Atlantians sure know hes there though.

Granted they don't notice he's there at first. He finds the perfect space to sleep and doesn't move until its time to go to the surface, but when they notice. They Notice .

Brave researchers acompanied by soldiers try to collect samples of hair and scale and maybe even blood but come up with little to nothing. While they can touch the being, any attempt to remove anything leads to it slipping through their fingers like the water that surounds them.

The only good thing is that the creature seems to be peaceful, only sleeping and then leaving. (where he leaves to, no one knows. They aren't sure they even want to know)

[skyrigel]

Fuckboy! Simon loves getting a reaction out of his shy, nerdy roommate.

He likes the way your eyes go molten whenever he invites over birds who won't stop groping at him, going crazy with their seductive Simon, Simon, Simon, who are easy and free to open up his shirt and flirt shamelessly — loves how you excuse jealousy as nerdy talks of not being able to study with his whole loud crowd.

Simon goes crazy when his eyes meet yours over the head of some--nameless--only--for--the--night hot chick he's making out with. Oh, he can cum alone at your warm face, so bothered, playing with the hem of your cardigan, licking your lips and blinking away.

He loves, loves, loves seeing you giveaway even the slightest of tremor, smallest of signs that you care, that when altogether his restraint would break down, and there would be no other way except pinning you under him all the while kissing you senseless, so he knows it's not a one way dance.

Which is exactly why he tugs his smirk back before asking in a voice he has mindlessly reserved for you, low in his throat, coated with sugar.

“Ya’ reckon you can get out da’ flat today, huh ?”

You look up at him; eyes glazed with a natural softness, one fingertip aligned to where you stopped reading.

How much he wants to kiss your eyelid—

“Why ?”

“Got a date.” Simon grins, “Big tits Jessica.”

“Jessica from chemistry ?” you hum softly.

His gaze slides along your exposed neck to shoulders, from where your sweater had dragged down. Simon has to take a moment to recover from the cadence his heart just experienced all at once.

“Wha— dunno. Bigs tits…blon.. brunette.”

Maybe blonde.

He can only see your tinted face, and the way you sit with your knees up, your sweater sleeves going down knuckles.

Simon doesn't know why he gets so anxious when you stop looking at him, and continue reading the black thursday of October, 1929. He starts to recognise that the way his heart tugs might be incoming heart stroke because you won't see him.

Until you break the silent torture. “Okay.”

He almost doesn't hear you from the storming inside him — to somehow shovel this topic forever, and to keep you accompany in any other way, to make you laugh with that amoeba joke you always chuckled despite saying it's not funny.

To kiss this small sad smile away from your lips.

“Wot ?” he shudders.

“Alright, I actually had a library date so—”

“Date ?!” Simon jerks up so fast, with his palm planted flat on the small dining table.

You flutter your lashes, barely concealed smirk at the way your empty tea cup rattles on the table.

Good.

“Yeah. Isn't he your mate—” you scan his waning face, he thinks only he can do this but two can play a game, “Johnny.”

“Mactavish ?!” he blurts urgently, the nerve on his neck feels like it would explode. Honestly, he'd explode whole before he sends you off with Johnny on what ? Library date his ass. It foul play on his innocent roommate, he ain't letting anyone take you away.

“Are you alright, Simon ?” You ask him, dripping with innocence.

Simon slowly sits back down, trying to form sentences that aren't ‘I am in love with you,’ and ‘Don't go with that dog. Stay with me forever.’

“I…I don't feel like…hey, um, reckon we should stay in and revise.” Simon quips, hopefully glancing at your open book.

“Exams are so close.” he presses on at your raised brow.

“Exams are nine weeks away.” you counter, Simon doesn't take it that way.

“See ?! There's no time.” he jumps out and snatches away your empty cup while scanning at the open page, “I really need to study bout this whole great... depression.”

You scoff under your breath, he takes that as a win with his silly-relieved smile.

“Gonna make tea for us, and tell Johnny ya’ won't be able to make it today, alright ?”

“Alright.” you whisper, grinning in the sleeve of your sweater.

Got him all riled up this time, aye.

⚝ Masterlist ⚝

[mahoganyrust]

Dramatic storytelling™

[on-the-clear-blue]

Danny knew that this job was too good to be either true or not illegal.

But fucking hell does it pay well.

So he was only a little ashamed with himself as he stands between Batman and one Mr. Freeze.

He knew why he was hired, the look Victor gave him when they did the first interview was enough for Danny to know that the mad scientist knew a little too much about his powers.

He had wanted to just say fuck it and dip, but then Victor told Danny about Nora...and we'll if that didn't get him on the man's side then the fat wad of cash was the real closer.

(He was a poor law school student with more debt than even Sam's credit card was allowed to clear, how can he say no to 1k an hour?)

One thing lead to another, and it seemed that Danny was a willing accomplice to Freezes plan

Which might now include tearing a hole in dimensions to get to the Far Frozen because a certain yeti doctor knows a fuck ton about the disease that Nora is suffering from.

Now if only Batman would stay down long enough for Danny to explain all of this...

[polysucks]

My lady, look down on this battle with a mother's eyes. They are all sons, every one. Spare them if you can, and spare my own sons as well. Watch over Robb and Bran and Rickon. Would that I were with them. -ACOK, Catelyn IV

Catelyn as the Mother of the Seven

[poppyseeds-and-coffeebeans]

Going for Gold Finale Art <3

Both art pieces commissioned from the ever wonderful and talented @bionic_xei for my Sonadow Olympics story ❣️❣️❣️

The details are stunning and I just adore both versions <3 <3

Please show Xei love in the comments and go follow their Instagram! All of their art is so gorgeous!!!

Also check out Going for Gold <3

[wutheredviolet]

( Ticktock-redclock)

< Hello miss Cathy, I wanted to know more about what your timeline...mirror...reflection? Not sure the right word for different things in the mirror but your version of things. >

"Ah, my mirror world i'd say is similar to the main mirror world. Things are changed obviously, those who'd you probably heard about are sinners on my bus. To name a few there is Yuri, Quequeg, Kromer, and some you probably haven't met yet depending on where you currently are in your journey such as Marie and Penelope. I won't divulge too much into things, otherwise we'd be here all day." An understatement of the century but they didn't need to know about everything. Especially not the hell the magic anons had put her friends through and her to an extent.

[dogmotels]

pet owners am I right

[savanir]

A fight between Danny and Skulker within the ghost zone carried them to a section that Danny wasn't familiar with. It was near a floating island that was overgrown much like Skulker's that the two of them suddenly got ambushed by a third party.

The new ghost seemed more interested in fighting Skulker than Danny, and he didn't hesitate at all to pull out a green glowing serated knife and a matching gun. Their snarling and growling was like nothing Danny had heard before and the insults were also a lot more vicious than what Danny ever heard from Skulker.

It was clear to Danny that these two hated each other.

"Whatever!" Skulker twists mid aerial dodge into Danny's direction, "This isn't over whelp, I'll have your pelt next time!" Skulker shouts before promptly flying off.

The new ghost then approaches Danny, all the while sneering at Skulker's retreating form. Talking with the new guy is... uncomfortable, Danny has to carefully navigate the conversation because it seems like the slightest thing sets him off, aka the guy's masked eyes start glowing brighter and get this smokey effect, and the belt of bullet shells he's wearing over his shoulder catches fire.

But Danny learns that the ghost goes by Ravager and that he's the son of the greatest mercenary there is, was, will be (according to him of course).

Danny also learns that Ravager finds his close combat skills to be atrocious and offensive to look at, "your hand to hand is shit. No wonder you're dead," and the next thing he knows he gets dragged towards the floating chunk of land for an impromptu cqc lesson.

Ravager shows him various fighting skills at a cleared stretch of land nearby a half demolished building that looks like it might have been a T shaped tower at one point.

In fact the whole island has the look of a post apocalyptic city, overgrown ruins of buildings everywhere.

When Danny asks, Ravager tells him it suits him just fine like this and with a name like his Danny is inclined to believe him.

Ravager is disappointed that Danny is a hero and some parts of his personality remind him of his younger brother who he rather not think about at all, other parts of Danny remind him of Robin, who he really doesn't want to think about at all.

In the end though, curiosity gets the better of him and he asks Danny if he can take a look around, see if he can find a guy named Deathstroke (very reassuring name) and report back what he's doing nowadays.

Ravager is not happy with what Danny finds out for him.

"So there was this girl and she apparently also goes by Ravager so to be honest, I'm a little confused now"

"He Fucking replaced me!!?!" flames burst out around Ravager as he shoults.

Danny tries to placate, "... okay now, maybe it's more a passing on the torch kinda thing, keeping your memory alive or something?"

"Where is that portal you've talked about, I'm gonna fucking kill him," Yeah this guy is not listening.

"Now that seems like a rash and poorly thought out thing to do, maybe instead-"

But Ravager is done listening and instead he just yoinks Danny with him in his hunt for vengeance.

Meanwhile on the other side Rose is telling Dick and Jason about a spooky white haired meta kid that popped out of nowhere, asked her if she knew where Deathstroke is at and when she attacked him he deflected all her moves as if he'd done it a thousand times before.

[irlplasticlamb]

the red wolf and the mother of dragons.

prints + merch + commission info is pinned on top of my blog :)

[gracelyns]

[papaquesito]

proposed to me on tt!! purple x purple

soundcracker

starop

[gutsby]

Sticky

Pairing: Old!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel can’t get it up. You lick frosting off his flaccid cock to help increase the bloodflow a little bit.

Warnings: 18+. Another fic for my AARP-affiliate fuckers. Soft cock ✔️ Buttercream frosting ✔️ Needy old Joel ✔️ Oral (m!receiving). Foodplay. Acute erectile dysfunction. Feral!Reader. Age gap. Daddy kink. Lots and lots of spit.

Note: To the anon who sent this request in today—I 🩷 U

Word count: 1.2k

He didn’t deserve you.

Really, in all the sixty-something years he’d been alive, Joel Miller felt as if he’d struck gold when he landed a partner as considerate, kind, patient, and sweet as you.

He thought if you got any sweeter right now, he’d have to head to the doctor to get his blood pressure checked out—that was how wild and saccharine things were looking.

With his elbows resting limply on the armrests of his favorite recliner, feet planted shoulder-width apart on the wooden floor, and his eyes trained in one, lone line, Joel felt like his stomach might fall out of his ass at any second. His hips jerked as he felt a loud, wet pop below.

You pulled off his cock, frosting all over your lips and chin

“That feel OK, daddy? Any better than before?”

Better than you could even imagine.

Joel blinked through the dreamy haze before his eyes and peered down at you. You were knelt between his legs, and your face was dripping with spit and icing.

You’d been licking and sucking cupcake frosting off his dick for the last twenty minutes, and the limp bastard hadn’t stirred a bit. He was still soft as he’d ever been.

Joel leaned forward so he could cup your glistening chin.

“You feel the best,” he assured you gently. “Always do. But I’m, uh…I’m not sure he’s gonna cooperate with us today. You sure you wanna keep on goin’ like this, baby?”

“‘Course I do. This is fun.” You grinned.

After three years, two babies, and more love and laughter shared than any man like him could ever hope to have, Joel felt a tug at his heart. He couldn’t believe his luck.

“What? Suckin’ this old, limp—” he started, about to disparage himself and that nasty bout of erectile dysfunction he’d been experiencing of late. Before he could finish, though, you took him back in your mouth.

You nudged his hand aside and dove right down to the base, with your lips flaring around the soft, tender skin. Silver hairs tickled your nose, and you just giggled at it.

The reverberations from that little laugh traveled up in a second from his tip to his stomach to something deep and primal and needy percolating inside him. It caught him off guard. In the next moment, you were sliding off, letting his member droop down, but only long enough for you to dip two fingers in the container of icing you’d brought up with you. The stuff was bright and pink.

It also happened to feel like a dream when it mixed with your spit and soaked your tongue. You stuck your index and middle fingers into your mouth, and with the frosting all over your tongue, you leaned down.

You licked Joel’s tip. Coated him in the stuff.

“Don’t talk bad about your dick. He’s my best friend, y’know,” you murmured, clearly smothering another grin.

Before Joel could reply, your lips were pursing together, and a big, shiny glob of saliva slid out. You drew your mouth even closer to his frosting-coated head, and you spit on it. You gripped him mid-shaft, and you worked the moisture that slid down in a series of quick pumps.

Joel’s jaw went slack, and he groaned.

“Best—best friend, huh? That really how you feel?”

At the same moment, your lips parted again to take his cock in between them. Your mouth slid down, pushing the spit and the pink frosting with it, and, in tandem with the strokes of your hand, you sucked him messily. Repeatedly, you bobbed your head up and down.

The whole time you did it, your eyes were trained on his.

If Joel weren’t sitting down, he would have collapsed.

A shuddering breath left his lungs, and, without thinking, he lowered a hand to your cheek. While your mouth kept sliding back and forth over his still-flaccid cock, he tried to follow it while he could. He cupped your jaw and felt trails of spit and sugar that had trickled as you sucked.

Something tightened in his gut.

Nothing stirred between his legs at first, but then, when your lips left him again and you flattened out your tongue to give his member a long, slow, teasing lick, he let out a groan. Spit was smeared in a line, and his balls twitched.

You were committed to this. As if sensing the faintest movement down below, you moved your lips to the rounded globes, and you sucked one into your mouth.

“Fuckin’ shit,” Joel hissed.

You sucked the other one in. You teased the tip of your tongue over them both, and, while Joel was trying his hardest not to go into cardiac arrest from those motions alone, you leaned down. Swiftly, you took another dollop and drew it out with three fingers—a little more this time.

Joel expected you to smooth it over his shaft with your lips and then suck him down again. Maybe stick out your tongue and drag the whole pinkish glob down to his balls

Instead, you lifted your hand to him.

It was under his chin in no time at all.

“Suck it off my fingers, daddy. Please.”

Joel wasn’t thinking. He couldn’t compute.

Somehow, still, with his brain barely online, he opened his mouth to you and let you push three icing-stained fingers inside it. Eyes round, he felt your touch pull out and prepared to swallow it whole. Then you stopped him.

“Don’t eat it,” you said, eyes twinkling.

Joel paused. He blinked dumbly back at you.

“Wh—” he started to say, mouth full of frosting.

Before he could get out a word, you parted your lips.

“Spit it in my mouth.” And then your tongue pushed out.

In that moment, Joel thought he might lose his mind.

It wasn’t like the request was even particularly obscene—you’d done plenty of dirtier things together before—but now, here, you were meeting his gaze with such a soft, innocent look, and something about the sheer idea of feeding you this frosting was like a punch to the gut.

He steeled himself briefly. Unblinking, and with his brain feeling like the consistency of scrambled eggs, Joel leaned forward, and he reached for your throat.

His fingers secured themselves gently around your neck like it was second nature to him, and you tilted your chin.

Joel met your gaze. It was soft, sweet, and loving as ever.

Thinking again how fortunate he was, he pursed his lips.

As soon as he spit into your mouth, the words slid out.

“I love you, baby. Don’t deserve you the least little bit.”

You caught the frosting easy. Your lips closed around it, and with your eyes still locked on his, you let part of the same thick glob dribble out—past your lips, down your chin a bit, enough to trickle down the throat that he was still holding—and then you fixed him with the softest, sweetest smile you could manage before lowering again.

Then you let the rest dribble down his cock, which, to Joel’s mind-numbing surprise, was suddenly partly erect

You weren’t looking at it.

Your gaze was still holding his, and in it, Joel found nothing but the same, unadulterated feeling that he had. Your whole face was practically radiating that look.

Chin smeared, lips smiling, and a now stiff, throbbing cock caked in frosting gripped in one of your hands, you blinked back up at him like it was the most normal thing.

For a beat, Joel didn’t think that he could love you any more than he did in that moment, and then you said:

“Of course you do, daddy. I don’t mind getting sticky.”