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swap-cult-au · 1 year

Note

[Spirit Anon]

Looks around. spots Nightmare and looks confused and shrugs.

later. i don't know you. Lemon. Lemon lemon lemon. THE REST OF YOU-!

Spots Cryptid and smiles softly.

You and i will have a talk. i wonder what your intestinal track will like strenw across that Dream guys alter? how fun!

He starts to slam the pipe at the nearest human.

“Okay okay okay okay-”

Nightmare walks up to you, grabbing the pipe.

“Let’s talk this out. Peacefully.”

#inquiries to the light #nightmare sans #sc!nightmare #spirit anon #swap cult au

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lovesickletters · 1 year

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Hi, Spirit anon here. Just wondering if this blog is active or not. If it is but you don't have time, It's all good. Take your time. I do like reading yandere stories because of the creepy factor.

If you've stopped for now, it's alright. Take your time, enjoy yourself and don't burnout!

Aww darling you’re too sweet 💙💙

Yes don’t worry this blog is just a little slow, I read through every comment and ask as I get them, and I love each and every one of them 💙 Active would be a… generous word for this blog’s state but I have no plans to abandon it my love!

#spirit anon #𝓉𝑒𝒶 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒☕️

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tearsofcalamity · 15 days

Note

Boothil has me on a chokeholdI want to fuck him so bad.Maybe install a few softwares, up his sensitivity, play with his mind.. Or maybe a lewd virus.. Make him so horny and needy, his head can literally think of you fucking him so good..Or him accidentally plugging the wrong USB, thinking it's his usual data after rebooting, but it's your USB and it messed with him.. I want to fuck his pretty hole so bad

hi anon this is tasty oml

imagine his sensitivity's been all off, some kinda glitch maybe from an incident during one of his missions. one moment it's been too low, and the next (just like now) it's way, way too high. for every other touch it's just annoying, but every time you've brushed past him today, he's failed to mention his issue with just how aroused he feels himself getting. it's different when it's your touch.

when he finally bucks up and admits that he's been having issues, you're so caring, so much more considerate of his senses (he wishes you wouldn't be - he really just wants you to fuck him dumb every time you so much as graze him) as you set out a few USBs and ask him to wait while you go grab some other tools to fix up his sensors. he asks what they're for, and when you tell him they're various types of sensations compiled into USBs to better test each type of touch, he figures he might as well just get a jumpstart with the testing so he doesn't waste your precious time.

he opts for the USB sitting the furthest away. the fool, he hadn't even asked you what sensation each one was before trying it out. it could've been pain, a ticklish feeling, but no, he got arousal. it was like he was overwhelmed like an animal in heat at once, his eyes shooting open as his cock strained against his trousers painfully. images of you involuntarily flashed through his mind, and he had to fight to keep himself breathing normally, but it was no use...

you get back to find him practically humping the air, strands of black and white hair sticking to his forehead as he pants and moans and begs for your help. you're concerned until you see the USB sticking out of his port and realize at once what he's done, lightly chastising him (horrendous torture for him in this state, surely, to have your breath so gently tickling his ear as he suffers) on not touching your tools without asking you first.

unfortunately, it'd be too risky to go in and fix this via his inner wiring while he's this worked up... it might burn you with how much he's overheating. so the only solution is to fuck his brains out until he's at least semi-conscious enough to cool down. good thing you made sure he'd be able to fuck in any way a normal man could when adding his sensitivity! giving him all the facilities is coming in handy.

poor guy doesn't even have the time or mental faculties to ask why the hell you had an arousal USB among the testers present.

ooooh, maybe use a toy on his cock while you pound into him... it'll give you a nice view of his face while he's being completely overwhelmed, his eye filled with hearts, rolling back as his tongue sticks out from behind those pretty lips of his. a nice, slick onahole should do wonders to cool him down after one, three, five... maybe more orgasms, even as he begs you to stop despite his hips continuing to rut into the gadget. the fun thing about fucking a robot is that he can go a lot more than a human can, and as much as boothill tosses his head from side to side, actual tears beginning to spill, you can also see the drool beginning to fall from his lips, his lolling tongue as he groans your name over and over.

he's got a pseudo-prostate that you make sure to nail with precision every time your strap slides inside of him, the impeccable design of his insides allowing you to slip in and out with ease. you remove the onahole from his weeping cock (another feature that aids the toy and your current activities as a whole), pushing his legs up and folding him in half into a mating press, just to see if he can cum only from his prostate. and cum he does - his voice coming out higher and higher pitched as he wails in both euphoria and humiliation at your treatment of him.

finally, you slow when you realize he has indeed begun to cool. his eyes are rolled back, hair messy and splayed across the table, harsh scratches made by his metal nails into the steel table (somehow). he's not quite unconscious, but he certainly can't form any further words, his breathing heaving with small, scattered moans as he tries to regain himself. his emergency cooling procedure had kicked into high gear at last, aiding you in fixing up his sensitivity.

oh, but perhaps leave that special USB lying around. mark it clearly, and pretend not to notice when boothill digs through your messy desk to find it and plug it back in, acting for all the world that he didn't mean to use that special little one on himself again. he's got too much pride to admit it, after all. oh well, it seems you'll have to help him once more!

#sub boothill #boothill x reader #hsr x reader #sub hsr #boothill smut #hsr smut #katze works n/sfw #n/sfw #katze's secret corner #I got carried away oops #I also want to fuck his pretty hole anon... kindred spirit...

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blindmagdalena · 1 year

Note

imagine being hired by vought to be a sort of housekeeper to homelander, doing his laundry and cooking for him in his penthouse. he’d immediately grow to love having someone to come home to, and would automatically slip into husband mode whenever he finds them doing him some wifely act of service (conveniently ignoring the fact they’re paid to be there, of course)

ao3 link

Working for Vought, specifically Homelander, turns out to be an insanely simple gig. Typically, you never even see him. You're free to do your cleaning in peace, picking up after America's favorite hero. He rarely ever leaves a mess, but there's enough to keep you employed. Tidying up his towels, replacing his hygiene supplies and tooth brushes. You're trained specifically on how to clean his suits. You empty and stock the fridge. He goes through a lot of milk. You always make sure to get whole. He lodged a complaint the one time it was less than. You were told initially that your cooking services wouldn't be necessary. Homelander isn't known to be, well... much of an eater.

Still, you didn't want the food you stocked at the start to go bad, so one day you prepare a few meals and put them in containers in the fridge. You include little notes with instructions on how they should be reheated. You sign each one with a little heart simply because that's how you've always done it, and pin them to the fridge. You think nothing of it. Homelander is dumbstruck by it.

At first he's affronted that you would leave him cold food in his fridge and expect him to heat it up for himself, but there's something distinctly... loving about it. Coming home to his laundry clean and his shelves dusted never felt like that. It was nothing more than a reset, an automatic process that he didn't dedicate any thought to. But this? This is personal. This reminds him that a living, breathing person was in his home, tending to it, and that person... cooked him a meal, and left him a little note. With a heart.

The next morning you get a text that you will indeed be cooking for Homelander that evening! You're in the midst of it, staying later than you usually do, when he walks in the door. You aren't making anything fancy, just steak and mashed potatoes, but he sucks in a breath like he's inhaling the scent of a gourmet meal. His smile is broad and gleaming. It makes your heart skip a beat.

To your surprise, he introduces himself. He shakes your hand firmly, and holds your stare as you remember your manners and manage to spit out your own name. "Charmed," he says through that radiant smile, and you feel like he means it. His eyes are somehow much bluer in person. His gaze flickers to the stove, and he clicks his tongue. "Not to question your craft, but is this really enough for two?" Looking at the steak currently searing, you falter. "Oh, I'm sorry, are you having company? No one told me." "Well of course I'm having company, you silly goose. You're standing right here, aren't you?" He asks, putting his hands on his hips. It's cheesy, like a moment straight out of a sitcom, but you fluster anyways. This man has such presence to him.

"You... want me to eat with you?" You ask, bewildered.

"Be a shame to cook up a storm and not even feel the rain," he laughs, as if you're the one thinking strangely here. He's already gone to the fridge, and pulled out a second steak. He offers it out to you with that same charming television ready grin. "C'mon. I can hear your stomach growling."

Tentatively, you take the package from him. "Okay."

That night, and each night that follows, you cook Homelander a meal at the tail-end of your shift, and sit down to eat with him. It's surreal, but after the second night, it occurs to you that you've never once seen sign of him having company. There's never extra dishes, or towels. No remnants of a party in the trash. If he does have friends, they're certainly never here.

You can't help but wonder if he's lonely. The thought humanizes him from the larger than life image you had of him in your mind, and you have an easier and easier time engaging him in conversation. He's funny, if not a little strange. There are times when you don't really know how to respond to the things he says, but he often moves on quickly enough to keep things from being awkward.

Truth be told, you're starting to quite enjoy his company.

Homelander begins showing up earlier and earlier into your shifts. The next week, it's barely after 4:00pm when he strides through the door, greeting you with a chipper, "Heya!" and a little salute.

You turn off the vacuum, and despite being a little caught off guard, you smile at him. For the first time, you say, "Welcome home!"

For a second, you worry you've said something wrong. That smile slips off his face, and he stands frozen a touch too long in the doorway. However, before you can add an amendment, his lips stretch back out and he closes the door behind him. "Good to be home," he says. There's less of that showmanship in his voice, you think.

"I didn't know you'd be home so early, I haven't finished-" "Oh, don't mind me, you do your thing. Pretend I'm not even here," he insists, taking a seat on his couch.

You expect him to occupy himself in some way. A book, perhaps, or even just his cellphone. Instead, for the next hour you're keenly aware of the fact the only thing he seems to be entertaining himself with is you.

After that, you cook dinner as usual, and the two of you eat amidst pleasant, casual conversation. It's the same as any other night, and yet somehow this evening feels distinctly different. You can't name exactly what it is, but something has changed.

Homelander begins filling out your time with new requests; he's suddenly become quite fascinated with plants. You had mentioned to him before that you like to keep them, despite the work they take. Your shifts grow longer to account for your new tasks.

All the while, he's been more and more present during your shifts. Although he doesn't directly take or distract you from your chores, you're always keenly aware of of his gaze on you while you work. You try not to overthink it, but the weight of his attention is heavy nonetheless.

One day, you're sweeping up a mess of spilled dirt, struggling to maneuver around the legs of a piece of furniture, when Homelander hops up to intervene. "Let me get that for you, sweetheart," he says, lifting the entire cabinet up as if it weighed nothing at all.

You lose yourself for a moment, standing dumbfounded before abruptly remembering to sweep the dirt out from under it, your heart racing. Your mind keeps replaying the pet name, and with every echo of it, your cheeks feel redder. Homelander smiles, watching you all the while. The next day, you arrive to find an enormous bouquet of roses sitting in a vase on the kitchen counter. There's a note with your name on it, and a simple message: Thanks for all your hard work. Keep it up! The note is signed with Homelander's sprawling signature. Smiling widely to yourself, you tuck the note into your pocket, and lean in to inhale the sweet smell of the flowers. On another occasion, it's time to clean the blades of the ceiling fan in his room, but you can't find that darn step ladder anywhere. Homelander must hear the way you're shuffling around and muttering under your breath—you swear the man hears everything—because he steps in to check on you. "Everything alright in here?" He asks, peeking in from the doorway. "Oh, fine, fine, I just can't find my step ladder anywhere. Have you seen it?" You ask, feeling flustered. Getting put behind schedule never fails to trip a thread of anxiety in your chest. "Can't say I have," he answers, stepping inside. He looks around the room. "What'cha need it for?" "Ceiling fan. Uhm, it's okay, I'll get to it later, if that's alright with you? I'm sorry, I could have sworn I left that ladder-" You stop yourself, realizing Homelander is suddenly striding directly towards you. Uncertain, you begin to take a step back, but he's fast. He puts an arm around you, and without warning you're being hoisted up into his arms as easily as a doll.

"Up y'go," he says, supporting not only your weight with ease, but resting you snug against his chest. You squeeze your knees together, arms pulled in tight, as if making yourself tiny will somehow protect you from the embarrassing quicken of your breath, or the rampant beat of your heart. "There you go. Who needs a step ladder when you've got me?" He asks, grinning down at you with that familiar dazzling spread of pearly whites. His smile feels better suited to a Hollywood audience than this quiet little moment, but the only thing you can really focus on is the fresh, woodsy smell of his cologne. "Uhm, I-I still don't think I can reach-" You stop, noticing the ceiling fan is now within arms reach. "Oh." Looking down, your eyes widen. Neither of your feet are touching the ground. Instead, Homelander is hovering well above it, holding you adjacent to the fan. You can't help the nervous laughter that suddenly bubbles out of you. "Oh my god," you laugh, looking around. "You're flying!" "As I'm known to do from time to time," he says, voice dripping with satisfaction. His gloved fingers tap absently at your waist, basking in your awe over what is, to him, a wholly unremarkable feat. The sheer normalcy of you makes his every move seem a marvel. He savors your wonder. You're so enamored with the novelty of it, you remember belatedly why you're up here. Clearing your throat, you reach up with the duster, and gently spin the fan, collecting the strands of dust and the like that had gathered on each one. You try your damnedest to focus on that, and not the fact Homelander's face is less than a foot from yours. Out of your peripheral, you can see that his grin has softened into a content, absent smile. Your stomach does cartwheels as you finish dusting the fan, bringing the duster back down. You clear your throat again, pretending it's not a nervous habit. "All done, thank you," you say quietly, smiling back at him.

"Any time, sweetheart," Homelander purrs. There it is again, that coy little nickname that sends your mind into a tizzy. As if that weren't bad enough, he winks at you, floating gently back down to the ground. Your legs feel so much like jelly, you worry you'll collapse the moment you're on your feet. Luckily, even once he's set you down, he leaves a hand lingering on your back. "You got a thing with heights? Your heart's pounding," he points out, much to your mortification. You try to laugh it off. "Oh, no! No, just wasn't expecting it. I'm fine with heights," you say, fumbling with the duster for a second before slipping it back into the cover. "Good," Homelander responds, an oddly cryptic depth to his tone. His smile lingers. "That's good. Alrighty, I'll leave you to it," he says, tipping his head in a polite little nod before he heads for the door, leaving you to your own devices, and the rapid fluttering in your stomach. Later that same day, you're thoroughly perplexed when you spot the step ladder exactly where it's supposed to be, certain you had checked there a dozen times over.

Two weeks from the day you first shared a meal, he presents you with a gift after dinner. "Oh, sir, you shouldn't-" "Please, please! Don't be so formal. It's just a little thing," he says, waving his hand dismissively. "Y'know, to show my appreciation. You take such good care of me. Just wanted to return the favor." Butterflies swarm rampant in your gut as you tug loose the pretty red ribbon tied around the box. Uncertain of what to expect, you feel a measure of relief when you lift the lid, and see a lovely apron folded inside it. "You wear this print a lot, figured you could use something, you know, matchy. Feminine," he says, gesturing vaguely with his hand. "Your other one's seen better days."

You exhale a soft laugh, touching the fabric. It's soft beneath your fingers, and of excellent quality. The gift is a thoughtful one, and it feels appropriate, despite what the expensive looking wrapping made you think. "You like it?" He asks after a beat, snapping you out of your thoughts. "I do! Yes, thank you. It's very nice. I've enjoyed working for you, sir—" You stop when he points a finger at you, his brows raised, and you correct, "—Homelander." He smiles, dropping his hand. "And eating with you. I can't say any of my other clients cared whether or not I ate," you say, chuckling. You think you see his nose twitch strangely at the mention of your other clients.

"Right, well! C'mon, let's see how it looks," he says, taking you by the shoulders and guiding you over to the mirror near the floor to ceiling windows that overlook the city. Homelander takes the box from your hands and presents it to you, allowing you to lift the apron up and let it unfold. Odd, it feels a touch heavier than you expected. You sling it around your neck, but before you can reach back to tie it, Homelander has taken it upon himself to do it for you. He cinches it at your waist with a sharp little tug, grinning at you from over your shoulder as he meets your eye in the mirror. "Loooook at that, perfect fit," he purrs, tying the ends off. "It's beautiful, thank y—" Smoothing your hands down the front of it, you stop. There's something in the right pocket of the apron. Glancing up, Homelander has a mischievous glint to his expression, but his brows raise, and his lips curl down. He's playing dumb.

Curiously, you slip your hand into the pocket, and feel smooth velvet against your fingers. Wrapping your hand around a firm rectangle, you draw it out, and feel your stomach flip as you stare at the distinctly luxurious looking black box now in your hands. "Oh, geeze, totally forgot that was even in there," Homelander says. His tone is terribly unconvincing, but he does sound very pleased with himself. "Whelp, you've already accepted, so I guess it's yours now." "I—" "Go on," he urges, giving your shoulders a little shake. He's watching you eagerly through the mirror. "Open it up. It's all yours."

Swallowing, you crack the box back on it's hinges. Your jaw drops, your chest tightens. You stare at the shimmering three-stone drop diamond necklace in utter disbelief. You don't even feel Homelander let go of your shoulders, or hear him slide off and drop his gloves to the nearby table. "Oh my god," you whisper. You probably couldn't afford the box this thing was sold in, let alone a single stone on it. "I don't think I can accept this, sir," you say, slipping back into the habit of formality as your brain struggles to catch up to reality.

"Oop, too late for that," Homelander dismisses, plucking the delicate necklace up from the fabric it lay in. "Here, allow me," he says, ignoring your shellshock while he drapes the necklace against your skin, his bare fingers brushing the back of your neck as he gets it fastened.

Breathless, you tentatively touch the bottom diamond. Your mouth feels full of cotton, and your heart is racing. Is this really happening?

Meanwhile, Homelander grips your upper arms, beaming. "Look at you. You know what they say about diamonds; they're a girl's best friend," he laughs, those canines of his looking sharper than ever.

Giving your arms a squeeze, Homelander leans close to your ear. "Happy two weeks," he whispers, the heat of his breath on your neck prickling goosebumps all the way down your spine. "Thank you," you whisper back, pushing out a bewildered little smile.

Homelander lingers there a moment, the warmth of his hands on your arms seeping through the fabric of your shirt. His smile has relaxed some, and his gaze is slightly distant as he looks you up and down in the mirror. You see a flash of pink as he wets his bottom lip with his tongue. It isn't until you clear your throat that his eyes snap back up to yours, regaining presence of mind. "I should get going," you say gently. His fingers flex on your arms, and the corners of his mouth twitch. "Right," he says, lips pulling into a thin smile that doesn't reach his eyes. This is always his least favorite part of the night. With obvious reluctance, he drops his hands from your arms. "Right, ah, let me—" "Unless..." You interject, turning to face him. Homelander's brows shoot up to his hairline. He blinks. "Unless...?" "Unless you'd like me to stay," you say quietly, your stomach tying itself in knots. "Not as your housekeeper, but maybe as just... Company?"

"Company," he echoes, his parted lips slowly drawing into a smile. This one does reach his eyes. "We could watch a movie."

"I like movies," you say. The words sound dumb to you as soon as they leave your lips, but Homelander looks at you like you've just spun a beautiful sonnet. "Great, I have movies," he says, putting a hand on your lower back as he gestures you to the living room. His smile is broad now, eager and a touch boyish. You feel a little surge of endearment amidst the adrenaline. "What do you want to watch?" "Dealers choice," you say, slipping out of the apron before you take a seat at the couch. Homelander immediately busies himself with the television, flipping through Vought+'s enormous repertoire.

Still in a mild daze, you don't process any of the titles that fly by on the screen. Instead, you're hyper aware of the weight of the necklace hanging from your throat, and the lingering heat that Homelander's hands left on your skin.

So much for a simple gig.

#i was absolutely POSSESSED by the spirit of this ask lmao #homelander x you #homelander x reader #darling anon #ask and you shall receive #fluff #my writing #i blacked out and posted this immediately #so im sorry if it’s a mess I will fix it in the morning lmao

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spirit-lanterns · 2 months

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himeko as an alpha is my greatest wish. she'd be so gentle helping out her omega with heats, kissing my forehead and brushing hair out my face. but i want her to be rough and breed me, just shoving her knot up into my pussy 😩😩. im gonna make her a milf with how much pups she's gonna breed into me. need her to keep me plugged all night once we're done.

-🧅

Mmmm Himeko is one of the gentler alphas for sure 🤤

She��s also one of the alphas who pines for a domestic family life with you. She craves to be a mama, having a litter of pups with you and always begging to breed you silly so that you could have a little family of your own (and also she just really loves the idea of making her mate pregnant)

Himeko is gentle and patient. If you don’t want to have a family yet (or ever) Himeko respects that. But if you do want a litter of pups now…? Oh boy, brace that pussy because you’re going to get the wild pounding of your life. Himeko’s knot is not as big as the other alphas tbh, but that just means you don’t get fatigued as easily. Which means Himeko’s knot can plug you up as many as 5-6 times, depending on your stamina!

Yes, that means she can keep you stuffed full all night long, ensuring that your womb carries the litter of pups she’s always wanted and making sure you feel nice and loved 💕

#🕯️spirit box #🧅 anon #omegaverse au

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cursedxwt · 3 months

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who are the fruity men on your banner? asking for a friend

UM HI HELLO HI YOU MEAN HIM? YOU MEAN THIS MAN? EHE he is Yashiki Kazuo from the hit game

--Spirit Hunter: Death Mark--

(the rose had thorns)

and THIS man right here? this is Yashiki's husband, Mashita Satoru.

I've done NOTHING but love and cherish (and draw a shit ton of yaoi of) those men for... *counting with my fingers* FIVE FUCKING YEARS so you came to the right (or wrong) place to ask about them because I am

insane ♥

I'm joking I won't make it long BUT INSTEAD I'll give you whatever this is

That's it, I'm normal again bye

#hi anon!#death mark #spirit hunter: death mark #yashiki kazuo #satoru mashita #I'M NORMAL I'M SO NORMAL #cursed draws

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swap-cult-au · 1 year

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[Spirit Anon]

There is a trail of dead bodies in the forest.

This does not bode well

[OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT]

Dream’s sockets widen. Oh dear.

He walks forward, blessing the souls that have been lost.

#inquiries to the light #dream sans #sc!dream #spirit anon #swap cult au

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shimmershy · 11 months

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Chara and frisk as chihiro and haku from spirited away (not in a romantic sense)

This is an old ask because I wanted to draw something for it but kept putting it off, I'm sorryyyyy. I love Spirited Away! It's been a little while since I last watched it, but I remember that Haku and Chihiro reminded me of Chara and Frisk in some ways (also not in a romantic sense). Haku specifically makes me think of Chara, personality-wise.

Anyway, I had two ideas so I drew them both. For the first one I just put them in the setting of Spirited Away, and for the second one I was thinking more like, you keep Undertale's story but Frisk and Chara take on roles more similar to Haku and Chihiro? Like Frisk's in this strange new world and Chara takes on the role of teaching them how things work and protects them. I had fun with these, especially the first one. :)

(Screenshots I referenced are under the Read More!)

#sooo happy with the colors and the vibe in the first one #the pose in the second one was harddddd #I would have gone into more detail on how a crossover might work here but I remember like. nothing of Spirited Away at this point ughh :(#my art #ask #anon #anonymous #undertale #spirited away #chara #frisk #safeutdr #chara dreemurr #frisk undertale #frisk dreemurr #chara undertale

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mfshipbracket · 1 year

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voting for reylo almost exclusively because i want someone's ship, someone's dearly beloved treasured ship, to be the one to lose to reylo

new threat for the arsenal: "i hope your otp loses to reylo"

#asks #anti reylo #i GUESS? i mean.#technically voting pro reylo. but in the spirit of anti reylo #man i don't even go here #anon your sadism is showing btw

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st-just · 5 months

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Hi there, could you expand on the post: my-overarching-take-is-that-artists-and-cultural? I'm curious to hear your take (which is usually p 🔥)

re:

Oh just like - you know that one famous (IIRC) Chomsky line about how he doesn't think mainstream news anchors are consciously cynical or mercenary, but the role would only ever be filled who earnestly and sincerely believed the same things they do?

My general take is that popular fiction is basically the same - there's a whole ocean of raw material and artistic passion out there, but what becomes a huge hit or celebrated in the halls of power and what gets forgotten by the next month has almost nothing to do with the art itself and everything to do with how the audience receives it. There are a few exceptions, sure, but generally society conjures up and elevates the art it requires; and so art is an interesting reflection of the society that celebrates and patronizes it, but trying to create art is on its own a truly terrible way to change society - if it doesn't want it, it will wither on the vine.

(All of this is in terms of stuff with a real mass audience, of course. creation or deep reading and critique of some niche publication functionally no one will ever read can be fun and uplifting but on an activism/social change level is basically useless. The soul of American can be seen in deeply mid propaganda shooters and new adult romances, not anything truly groundbreaking or, like, good.)

#reply #anon #musing #writtng in a needlessly combative register in the spirit of the fire ask meme

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milflewis · 8 months

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Your opinion on Pipe ft XNDA

sorry but if you don’t think releasing a song where you talk about eating pussy and singing the words “i’ll show you domination” when you’re seventy points behind in the championship going into summer break and then eventually winning said championship isn’t the epitome of serving cunt then you’re boring

#in my heart of hearts the spirit of james hunt was shining thru lewis during this moment #ask my opinion on ask game #anon tag #niamh.asks

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spirit-lanterns · 1 month

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Jade handing a mission off because her whiny sub didn't want her to leave and because it wasn't a mission only she could do (but then again enough whining and she might find a workaround to postpone her leave)

👾

Jade is so whipped for her whiny sub, you could ask her to stay home in bed and cuddle you instead of going on a mission, and she’d comply 99.99% of the time.

I feel like Diamond is just so used to Jade declining missions for you, that whenever Jade hesitates on call, Diamond just hangs up and knows Jade won’t be calling into work that day. That little moment of hesitation is all they need to know that Jade will be busy spoiling her cute little sub in bed. It’s no use arguing with Jade when her sugar baby is right next to her 😭😭

#🕯️spirit box #👾 anon

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