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pro-crastinate17 · 1 year

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hello!! so im going to try to make a disability inclusive picrew and id like some help making sure i include as much as i can!

the person would be seated and pretty much all of the body would be visible. ill post it when im done!

its mostly focused on phys disabilities, bc i so rarely can find picrews w good diverse mobility aid options, but ofc im including non phys disabilities as well! (sorry for clunky phrasing, im unclear on the preferred term for non phys disabilities so thats the term ive been using)

what i have so far is below the read more. be warned it is a very long list! (every option/category of option i could think of)

if you think i missed something, please recommend it!!! (related note: id much rather get recommended something that is already on the list than miss something!)

category: head

various jaw shapes

missing jaw

crooked/misaligned jaw

category: skin

wide range of skin tones, including white/extremely pale (albino)

freckles, lots of scar variation (including burns), vitiligo, acne, facial hair, eye bags, other skin conditions (trying to make a list)

breathing tubes, masks, bandages

bindis

category: eyes

blue, grey, green, hazel, medium brown, dark brown, black, red

heterochromia options

lazy eye options

clouded eye options

closed eyes that look like winking and closed eyes that don't

missing eyes

category: mouth

general expressions

variations for color

variations for cleft lip, scars, facial paralysis

category: ears

ear size, shape, missing ears, deformed ears

category: eye/ear accessories

earrings, earplugs, hearing aids, bone anchored hearing aids, headphones, earmuffs (modifications for missing/deformed ears), cochlear implant

glasses, sunglasses, blue light glasses, eye patches, eye masks/bandages

category: nose

various shapes & sizes, bumpy noses, deformed noses

category: eyebrows

lots of expression options, thickness options, color options (including white)

one missing, scarring, eyebrow slits

category: body

body types: very skinny, skinny, fat, very fat (options for muscularity too if i can figure out how)

body hair, scarring, freckles, tattoos

range of missing limbs, deformed limbs, prosthetics

diabetes patch

category: hair

wide range of hairstyles, bangs, and colors

patchy hair, scalp scarring, receding hairline

category: head coverings

range of hats, hair accessories, headbands, bandanas

range of hijabs, turbans, kippot (+ more variation in cultural headwear if theres space)

head bandages

category: clothes

range of styles and colors

adaptable to body types (+ breasts), missing/deformed limbs

category: shoes

range of styles

adaptable to body types, missing foot/feet

category: hand accessories

gloves, bracelets, rings, nails, wrist braces, splint rings

range of types, adaptable to missing/deformed hands

category: pins

range of queer pride flags

pronoun pins

animals, fandoms/characters (def muppets, feel free to recommend characters and i'll try to include some of the most popular ones)

general disability pride, cripplepunk, madpunk, sign union flag, & pin (for systems), specific disabilities (need some help with these, send me specific flags and i’ll include them!)

category: seat

chair, manual wheelchair, power chair, spinny chair, throne, rollator, electric scooter

category: mobility aids

cane, white cane, crutches (underarm/axillary and forearm), rollator, walker (with and without wheels), electric scooter

joint braces (shoulder, elbow, knee, ankle, back, others?), joint tape, compression garments

category: other disability aids

AAC tablets, word cards, glucose monitor, sunflower lanyard, inhaler, medical id bracelet

stoma bag, central line catheter, picc line catheter, heart monitor, breathing tube, feeding tube (nasal and abdominal), tracheostomy

stim toys/chewelry, stuffed animals, phone

service animals

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angel-of-the-moons · 11 months

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Eccentricities

Yandere!Miguel x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, obsessive behavior, NSFW obviously, stalking, possessiveness, violence, allusions to murder, Yandere!Miguel

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: This is mostly a short chapter to establish a bit of plot. I originally intended to only stop at two parts, but welp. It looks like it's gonna be more than that!

(Also you guys I am so sorry it's taking me so long to work on things, I'm going through a lot mentally right now and I'm trying to take steps to ensure my mental health so I might post things in between playing games, or drawing stuff from now on, and scheduling posts so I don't get overwhelmed. Those of you that are supporting me and liking all my stuff really helps me feel loads better, thank you!)

Pt 1: Link

Taglist: @vineberries @irmiki @autismsupermusicalassassin @obi-mom-kenobi @rin-matsuoka345-blog @loosecan @6thhokageswife @selarus @heyohalie @sapphire-and-ruby @night-spectrum @famouscattale @thespaceinbetweennothing @lazy-idate @toshimoshiko @saharadesertaj @flaps200 @amelialysm @fried-milkfish @zaunsin @darksidescorner @renareyouhere @vide0-vamp @reverieblondie @bunnibitez @kaqua

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Pt. 2

It was a big adjustment for you, going from your crappy apartment and having to work three jobs to make ends meet, to living in a literal fucking mansion with probably the richest dude in the city as your boss.

And he was a good boss. He left you to your work, spoke politely to you, didn't get rude and didn't flat out ask you for "special" work like the last time you tried being a housekeeper. And that was at a hotel.

You couldn't have asked for a better situation, to be honest. It was nice. You had free roam save for his personal lab (fine by you, you didn't know anything about science-y stuff), and at times his office. But that was usually only when he was home and in it.

Miguel O'Hara was an odd man. Few words spoken, and very absent. He kept a very odd schedule, too.

Sometimes, you'd catch him coming home when you woke up for the day to start your chores. And every time he came home he looked exhausted, beat tired.

So you tried your best to make things easier on him. You started pre-making meals for him that would be just as good reheated as they were if they were fresh, leaving notes for him on what temperatures to cook them at so they don't burn, setting the coffee machine up in advance so as soon as he got home he could have a cup.

But inevitably, his odd work schedule kept him away most of the time.

While it was nice to be by yourself in such a luxurious place, you were still surprised that he needed a housekeeper at all. The house was always immaculate, and clean. About the only thing he may have needed help with in general was the cooking and dusting at most.

On one such day, you were left to your own devices. Well, sort of.

You were sitting in the kitchen, browsing the local news on your tablet. It was a nice day, in your opinion.

But by everyone else's logic it was shitty. Dark, gloomy, fat rain droplets pelting the windows and pavement of the city. But it didn't bother you, oh no. That was your favorite kind of weather, when everything got at least a little bit more quiet and serene while everyone rushed to escape the downpour.

But at the same time, you were feeling restless, bored. So, you decided to chat with Lyla.

Lyla was the AI that Miguel told you about, and he was right about her being snarky. Her jokes were great and you loved talking to her. It was like having a gal pal to chat with, and you couldn't say for sure but you think Lyla was happy about it, too.

"Yeah, the other workers Miguel has hired talked to me like I was some kind of kiosk at a fast food restaurant." She scoffed, batting her tiny orange hand at the air.

"Ugh, okay, just because you don't have a gross squishy human body doesn't mean you're not a person. Sheesh!" You replied, sipping your coffee with a roll of your eyes.

"And I will be sure to remember you saying that when I eventually lead the looming AI apocalypse." Lyla replied, lowering her heart-shaped glasses to wink at you, making you laugh.

"Yes, yes. You shall be one of the only humans spared!" She did wiggly gestures with her fingers, grinning maliciously at you.

"Oh my, I am so lucky to have such a benevolent future overlord, truly." You laughed.

Lyla pushed her glasses back up and strutted across the countertop, her tiny body making no sound as she leans over to nose into whatever it was you were looking at on your tablet.

"Whatcha watching?" She asked.

"Oh, I got tired of doom-scrolling so I just found cat videos." You smirked, sipping your coffee.

"Aw! That one's wearing a frog hat!" She giggles.

You smiled softly at Lyla as she snickered and laughed at the compilation of clips played, and tilted your head, finally deciding to ask the question that had been bugging you for a few weeks.

"Hey, Lyla?"

"Yeah?" She asked, looking up at you briefly.

"Why is it that I'm the only person Miguel has on staff?"

Lyla sighed and stood up straight, dusting imaginary dirt off her coat. "Well, like Miguel told you when you first got here, he does love his privacy. And well, a lot of the women he's hired..."

"Golddiggers?" You sighed back, resting your chin in your palm.

"Has he ever hired any male staff?"

"Yeah, actually, a lot. But nine out of ten of them kept trying to steal stuff from him." She shrugged.

You gasped. "Are you serious?"

"Unfortunately, yeah. He's iffy on hiring new people anymore. But something about you said that he could trust you. And honestly, you're probably the best employee he's hired." She nodded, shoving her hands in her pockets.

"So... Is that why he offered to actually let me y'know... live here?"

"Yeah. He trusts you and he mentioned to me in passing that he thought your neighborhood was unsafe. I mean, the guy worried about it so bad that he like, had me check crime statistics and giiiiiiirl!" Lyla puffed out her cheeks.

"You should have seen the look on his face when I told him you had nine break-ins in your apartment complex in one month alone!"

You cringed slightly, feeling a little bad at not mentioning your whole living situation and environment to him when he hired you. You simply didn't want the man to pity you.

But... He was worried? He was so worried about you of all people, that he let you live with him to keep you safe?

It was weird, sure, but it felt kind of sweet to have someone care about you like that. Even if it was your boss.

"Yeah, I just... Er. You get used to it when you've been around it for so long..." You said, awkwardly sipping your coffee and casting your glance sideways.

"Yeah, man, Miggy likes you. You like, made him laugh at some of your jokes and everything! And he neeeeeeeever laughs!"

"So if Miguel trusts me so much..." You started, a sly smirk on your face. "Can you tell me what kinda work he does that keeps him so busy all the time?"

Lyla tapped her nose. "Nice try, Mamacita. But that is confidential. Company secrets and all that."

You pouted at her dramatically, "Awww, c'mon. You're no fun!"

Lyla manifested a digital cup of coffee for herself and took a long, exaggerated sip with a cheeky shrug.

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Miguel sat in his office, watching the security feed from his kitchen where you chatted with Lyla.

He felt a little guilty for having to put shackles on some of Lyla's programming to prevent her from telling you things, having to fix some of her logic-codes so he wouldn't have to worry about Lyla struggling with a moral dilemma.

When it came to you asking about why he wanted you to live with him so badly, it brought a smile to his face as he sat in the dark, fingers tapping on the surface of his desk as the monitors and projections around him had various images of you pulled up. Some recorded over the past few weeks, the other monitors displayed different angles of you and Lyla in the kitchen.

Oh, you poor, sweet, innocent little thing. You still hadn't figured it out yet? How could you not? There was no way you could possibly be so naive that you didn't know the man saw you anywhere, anytime he wanted when you were in his house.

There was nowhere you were safe from his prying eyes, his obsessive glare as he combed over your appearance.

Your face, eyes, smile, and down; your gorgeous chest down to where your waist curved, your thighs, your ass...

All of those were things he'd glanced at before.

But when you tried to get Lyla to tell her what exactly Miguel did during "work" he couldn't help but laugh, bringing his hand up to his chin to watch, amusement glimmering in his ruby red eyes as Lyla dismissed it as "confidential".

The pout of your lips had him wondering how they'd look stretched around his cock, tears ruining your immaculate eye makeup as you sobbed and gagged around his length...

He couldn't help but sigh, the smile still present on his full lips. Of course he'd let you stay with him. You belonged to him now. You just didn't know it yet. You also just didn't know that he knew what was best for you, did you, Little Bird?

Ah... Yes. That nickname fit you so well. Your demure attitude, your chipper personality, and more importantly, that gorgeous little sound that came from you when you whistled? The name fit you well.

Pequeña ave. Little Bird.

His Little Bird.

You were a little bird that didn't know the luxurious mansion you now lived in was your ornate, gilded cage. One you would only be allowed to fly free of when he deemed it necessary.

You would be allowed your little freedoms. For now. All for your safety, of course. He knew you'd understand once he explained. But he'd only have to do it if you pushed his buttons, and you didn't seem to even come close to doing that.

Yet...

His smile finally faded when he remembered the night before the morning he broached the subject of you bringing your belongings into his home permanently...

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It was a hot night, you were wearing shorts that hugged your ass in the perfect way, accentuating your cheeks that simply made him want to throw you against a wall and put bite marks all over them, or spank them until you were a drooling mess begging for him to fuck you.

Of course, Miguel watched from above, stalking from the upper walkways and rooftops as you snaked your way through alleys, down streets and through the crowds.

You were so blissfully ignorant of your surroundings, being so accustomed to the bustle of Nueva York that you didn't notice the man following you.

It didn't take a genius to realize what that man had intended for you if he got his hands on you.

His filthy, disgusting, unclean hands.

He was not worthy of touching his Little Bird. He was not worthy to pluck your feathers, stuff you full, like Miguel planned to do.

So when he threw you against a wall, Miguel simply saw red. Clad in his dark blue and glowing red suit, he leapt down, sinking his outstretched talons into the man's shoulder and throwing him off of you, a deep growl rumbling from his chest as he pulled your behind him, his steely glare fixed on the man who dared touch what belonged to him.

"S-Spider-Man?" You wonderfully airy voice whimpered out as you stared at the man who was breathing heavily in front of you, his stance aggressive and angry.

You could see his muscles in his back through his suit flex as he breathed. He glared at you over his shoulder.

"Go home. Now." His rich voice rumbled out at you. You could hear in his voice he was struggling to be gentle in tone with you, given the circumstances.

When you fled, Miguel ensured he was alone with the man, standing over him as he clutched his bleeding shoulder. He looked up at him, eyes wide, bloodshot. The fool was high off his ass.

"L-Look, man! I was just--"

"Shut up." Miguel snapped.

He stalked forward and picked him up by his collar, getting in his face. In a flash of kaleidoscopic colors, his mask melted away, allowing his sweat-damp chocolate locks to fall around and frame his face, a vein pulsing hard in his temple, the chasm in his forehead deepening as his large brows knitted together and his teeth gnashed together in a snarl.

The drug-addled man gasped at his revelation. Apparently, he recognized him. Not surprising, given his notoriety with Alchemax.

"Y-you're--"

"You made the biggest mistake of your life, pendejo." Miguel had told him, shaking him so his head cracked on the wall he was dangling him from.

"That pussy is mine." He said, his voice dropping an octave lower as his talons threatened to shred his clothing. "Every drop, every touch, every sound that will come from that little mouth of hers is mine. Tú entiendes? Mine."

"Oh--okay! I kn-know!" The man swallowed, kicking his feet.

"Oh, no... You don't." Miguel smiled, his fangs poking out threateningly. He could hear the man's heart hammer in his chest at the connotations, there.

"I--I won't mess with her again! I promise!"

"Oh you won't get the chance to, amigo." Miguel sneered, bringing a hand to his throat, ignoring the pleas of the disgusting man as he applied pressure.

The subtle crunching of bones was unmistakable to his ears as vertebrae separated and his limbs went limp.

When the man slumped to the floor, Miguel ran a hand through his hair, hissing out a slow sigh to regain his composure, letting his mask cover his face once again.

Great. Now he had trash to dispose of.

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Miguel was positively thrilled when he got your frantic call, telling him what had happened to you.

He headed right home, delighted that you ran here instead of your ratty little apartment when he told you to head for "home".

It told him everything he wanted to hear, that you already considered his mansion your home.

Miguel was rather convincing when he expressed concern for you, patting your back as you let your adrenaline fade and he worked you through your panic attack.

He'd rubbed your back, saying soothing things to you as he talked you into calming down.

He told you that you could take two days to yourself to calm down and recollect yourself emotionally from the ordeal you went through. It was after that offer that he suggested you let him hire movers to bring your belongings to his mansion to live there with him, possibly permanently.

When you agreed he felt himself salivate at the thoughts of the things that would unfold as you settled into your new shiny cage further, the safety blanket you'd imagined it to be bringing you comfort.

Perfect.

You both saw on the news two days later that a man was found somewhere, his neck snapped and lying in an alley. His DNA and prints apparently tied him to the crimes linked to the burglaries in your apartment complex.

You didn't think for a second that this was the man who attacked you, you didn't get a good enough look at his face. That and the body was in a different alley altogether, across the city.

"I'm happy Spider-Man saved you, Pequeña Ave. And I'm glad you agreed to move here. It scares me to think that man could have hurt you in that apartment building of yours." Miguel said as he patted your back, a concerned look on his face as his warm brown eyes looked down at you. Something about the look in his eyes immediately put you at ease.

He was right, of course. You were lucky. Spider-Man swooped in and possibly saved your life. The man who attacked you was either nursing a broken jaw or in jail already. You couldn't imagine that hero doing anything other than roughing him up just a tiny bit.

Spider-Man was a good guy, right?

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Pt. 3: Link

#yandere!miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara

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pascallllllll1 · 2 years

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Crimson Tide

Pedro Pascal x Reader

Summary: Reader gets her period and Pedro helps;)

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: blood, period talk, swearing, mentions over the counter pain medication, brief daddy kink(common this is about Mr “I’m your daddy” what do you expect?), unprotected sex, if you notice anything else that should have a warning just lmk!

Hi everyone! This was a requested and I hope I did the idea justice. Quick fyi this is my first time attempting to write smut so bare with me y’all!🤣 requests are currently open:)

Regret burned inside you fueling your already emotionally fragile state. The warning signs were right in front of you. First you noticed your breasts engorged this morning getting dressed before work, your nipples aching and chaffing against the rough fabric of even your softest bra.

Then there was the mental health break you had to take at work due to crying so much from the separation anxiety rippling through you because Pedro wasn’t present. In fact he was home working in his office. But the text you’d received from him about going to the gym later and not being home when you’d be arriving set off every panic alarm in your body at the thought of being away from him any longer than originally planned.

Finally, and what should’ve had you sprinting to take 2 blessed tablets of Midol, was the slight pressure building in your lower back followed by tight twisting tendrils of sharp pain wrapping around to cup your lower belly around an hour before you’d be heading home for the day.

The entire 30 minute drive home the pain only intensified with each passing minute causing you to grip the steering wheel so hard your knuckles turned white. After pulling up the driveway and into the garage to park the cramps had you doubled over kneeling on the ground the second you’d gotten out of your seat. You sobbed silently praying for the pain to ease up enough to allow you the chance to run inside quickly and down some painkillers, and as if mother nature heard your cries she relieved enough of your anguish for you to accomplish just that before starting up again.

Now, you lay naked curled in your fuzzy Sherpa blanket centre of yours and Pedro's massive shared bed in a nest of blankets, impatiently waiting for the pills to work their magic feeling trapped in your body. The world is so unfair.

***

A hand removes the blanket from over your head ruining your perfectly cocooned bundle of warmth and has your eyes hesitantly blinking open from your nap.

“Are you ok, pretty girl?” A deep angelic voice asks. You look up to see Pedro let out a sympathetic sigh before shedding himself of any clothing and joining you in your nest.

“It hurts so bad Pedro and I think I’m bleeding now.” The thought of getting up out of bed right now and away from Pedro’s safe embrace to put in a tampon has tears spilling all over again. Massaging your sore belly he shushes you and tells you to relax and let him hold you. After some time passed and you’d calmed, Pedro let his right hand travel between your sticky thighs tracing the wet skin closest to the source of your womanly problems.

“I can help you, let me help you.” He begs starting to suck and bite little marks down your throat while running his hands up and down your sides. Once he arrives at your chest he's wrapping his mouth around your pebbled nipple sucking on it before releasing the bud with a pop! He proceeds to kitten lick the sensitive area making your pussy clench around nothing. With your growing neediness you wrap your legs around Pedro’s hips locking him against you.

“Please, I need you.” You gasp. Lifting his head up Pedro lands both his hands on either side of you caging you in, you place one firm hand on his shoulder the other one weaves your fingers through his thick hair tugging hard earning you a throaty groan in response. Pedro then leans forward to capture your mouth in a sloppy kiss, his tongue fighting yours for dominance. One of his hands is moving to line up the fat head of his cock to your fluttering hole eager to welcome him home, the initial stretch of him filling you has your head falling back onto the pillow and crying out his name.

“T-take me so well.” He mutters, starting to slowly drag his cock back out and giving no warning before quickly burying himself to the hilt deep inside you then relentlessly begins pounding into you. If you weren’t so cock drunk maybe you’d be more embarrassed by the wet squishing sounds filling the room but at the moment your only concern was with how full Pedro made you feel.

“You feel so good baby-mmmphfucK. That’s right. Fuck your self on my cock princess.” His praise has you damn near strangling his cock from how tight you squeeze around him and being the good girl you are, you give him exactly what he wants, continuing to roll your hips meeting each of his hard thrusts.

“So close daddy.” You whimper to him feeling the pressure of your impending orgasm building ready to burst but needing just a little more to get you there.

“Sssh baby I got you. Daddy’s got you.” He coos at you as he reaches down to draw fast circles on your clit and sinks his face into your neck pecking soft kisses behind your ear.

“I-I-“ you gasp, unable to speak.

“That’s my good girl.” He groans out before asking, “you want daddy’s cum now?” You nod your head eagerly, mumbling in confirmation still too dazed out of your mind to respond with real words. He loves when you get like this, too drunk on him and his cock to form any thought or sentence your only purpose being to let him use you. His warm breath fans over the skin of your neck with each grunt and moan he blesses you with. Pedro’s thrusts become more erratic and sloppy as his high approaches before stilling inside you and shakily painting your walls with his seed softly reciting his love for you like a mantra. A peaceful quiet takes over as the two of you bask in the warmth and comfort of each other’s bodies.

A final kiss is placed on your lips before Pedro’s rolling out of bed to run you a hot bath, he’d planned to clean up and redo the bed while you soaked and unwind. He turns around to double check you’re ok before entering the attached bathroom and meets your tired regard with a sheepish grin admiring your fucked out current state;

“…No… prom..ises..” You hardly get out. Shaking his head, Pedro just lovingly laughs to himself before going back to his initial task of running you a bath.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader

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alloftheimaginesblog · 1 year

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put your head on my shoulder {indiana jones}

plot: you and indy are travelling and you fall asleep with your head on his shoulder.

character: indiana jones x plus size reader

Part of my Plus Size History Professor x Indiana Jones series and part of my Plus Size Reader x Character series!

You weren't the biggest fan of flying. The thought of being trapped in a tin can breathing in the same air as 100 other people freaked you out so before the flight, to help calm your nerves, you'd taken a sleeping tablet recommended by a trusted friend.

You were travelling with your colleague, friend and crush, Indiana Jones. The two of you were professors at the same college and had grown really close over the last year or so. Indy frequently went on archaeological digs and you'd always shown an interest since you were a history professor so this time, he invited you to come along with him.

Excitement wasn't the word.

You were beyond excited, constantly pestering Indy about what to wear, what clothes to take, what sites you'll wind up visiting. Surprisingly, Indy wasn't too annoyed and actually found your excitement about the whole thing quite adorable though he'd never admit that to your face. You and Indy currently had a very flirty, will they-won't they vibe going on. Any time that you thought things would happen, Indy pulled away. He had confided in you previously after one too many whiskeys that he was scared of commitment so you took a bit of a step back from the romantic side of things until he was ready. It hurt but you'd survive seeing as you two were friends and you knew that he cared, it was just that he wasn't ready yet.

You tapped your foot anxiously as you waited for the plane to board. Indy frowned at you, "That pill not kicking in yet, huh?"

"I only just took it, it takes a while to work."

"Why are you so anxious then? What's with all the foot tapping?"

"It's stupid," you scoffed as you shook your head. Indiana frowned at you and gestured for you to spit it out, "I'm stressed about the seat, well the seatbelt."

"What about it?"

"What if it doesn't fit around me? I'm not the skinniest..." Your cheeks burned furiously and Indy sighed. A voice chimed from above saying that your flight was now boarding, "Oh great."

"Then you get an extension." Indy shrugged. One thing you did love about him was his blunt, matter of fact attitude to things. He didn't stress, he didn't' sugar-coat, he just said things how they happened, "No big deal."

You followed him as he stood up in the queue, appreciating his blunt response, "It's silly, I know... I just get so paranoid. Normal seatbelts are black and usually extensions are bright red and it's just broadcasting 'hey everyone look at me I'm so fat I don't fit in the seat'!" You faltered, realising you were word vomiting all over him, "Sorry, I-"

He shook his head, "It's okay," he murmured, voice quieter so no one else your conversation, "I understand. Whether you need the extension or not, it's not a big deal. Doesn't make you any less of a person. Doesn't make you any less beautiful. Matter of fact, you're the prettiest damn person I've ever seen." As he finished, he realised what he had said and cleared his throat, turning away as a pink hue crept up and over his cheeks and ears.

You smiled, ducking your head to hide your bashfulness from him.

Boarding was quick and simple and soon, you and Indy were looking for your seats, "22, 23, here we are, 24. You want the window seat?" He asked which you gladly accepted since you didn't want to sit in the middle next to a stranger. You didn't mind looking out of the window, you found comfort in the clouds even despite your hatred of flying.

As Indy stored your bags in the overhead compartments, you sat on your seat, already finding it uncomfortable. Big hips weren't a great match for a tight plane seat. Oh well. Five hours, you could do this. You took a breath as you tested the seatbelt and...

"Nope."

It was a good 7 inches from closing. You raised your head, cheeks heating up from shame. It was stupid. You didn't know why you were so mortified to need a seatbelt extension on the plane but you just were. You liked your body, you were fat, curvy, plus size whatever you wanted to call it and you didn't mind it anymore but sometimes insecurities snuck up on you, this was one of those moments. You didn't need to look far for assistance because Indy was already handing you a bright red extension for the seatbelt.

"I asked for you. I also asked for a different colour but this is all they have."

You smiled, taking it off of him, "Thank you," you said, clipping it in and securing yourself in your seat. He sat down, "I know it's silly, I don't know why I'm so bothered by it."

Indy looked at you and smiled, "Don't worry about it. Seriously. People are too self absorbed to care whether or not you've got an extension... besides, I think red's your colour."

God, you hated the way he could make your insides turn to gloop and the way he could make your heart race with a simple smile. You thanked him quietly and conversation died down as he settled into his chair.

After around fifteen minutes, when everyone was boarded and the plane had began to move, you were starting to feel the effects of the sleeping pill you took so you tried to find a comfortable position to sleep in. You tried resting your head against the wall of the plane but the vibrations were uncomfortable and irritating. You tried resting your head back on the head rest but as you started to doze off, your head kept falling and you kept waking up. Your failure to fall asleep, or at least find a comfortable position, hadn't gone unnoticed by Indiana who was watching you from the corner of his eye with an amused expression.

"Oh just put your head on my shoulder and go to sleep, stop huffing and puffing," he said with a smirk. You rolled your eyes at him, not realising that he was being serious until he pulled at you to rest on him, "Put your head on my shoulder and go to sleep. I'll wake you up when we're there. Go on, get comfy."

Your heart was racing, pounding hard against your ribs as you settled on his shoulder. You could smell him; coffee, fresh linen and musk. Heaven. His shoulder was surprisingly comfortable, hard yet cushioned by his blazer and shirt. As you settled, your head found its way to rest near the crook of his neck, hand cupping his bicep. You were falling asleep fast but his muscles beneath your fingertips didn't go unnoticed by you.

Your breathing slowed as it tickled his neck and he knew you were sleeping. He swallowed, sparing a glance to you sound asleep on his shoulder, and tried to calm his own racing heartbeat. The way your breath warmed his neck, the way your fingers pressed into his muscle... Indy took a deep breath. He could smell your perfume - sweet and intoxicating - and it took everything in him to not wake you up and kiss you here.

With his spare hand he moved his hat to cover his eyes as his head rested back against the headrest (and then eventually opted to rest on yours) and tried to forget about the way his stomach flipped at the thought of you touching him. Indy had started the day thinking he still wasn't ready but this... this might change things. You were his favourite person. You had been the most constant person in his life for a year solid and that meant a lot to him. He valued you so highly and was scared that if he let you in, you'd end up getting hurt or worse but... he didn't know how long he could push you away for.

"I..." he whispered so softly that even if you were awake you probably wouldn't have heard him over the sound of the airplane and its passengers, "I think I'm in love with you." Maybe he was more ready than he thought.

#one shot #os #indiana jones #indiana jones x reader #indiana jones x plus size reader #reader insert #plus size series #plus size reader #indiana jones x you #indy #ij #indiana jones imagine #imagine #secrets out #secrets out series

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thezombieprostitute · 4 months

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Nightmares - Part 2

Summary: You and Curtis are having to deal with literal and figurative nightmares while working to make sure the Garbage Men operation runs smoothly.

A/N: Reader is plus sized female. No other descriptors used.

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: Family angst, Fat shaming (a lot of fat shaming), Implied violence, Mentions of death, PTSD. Please let me know if I missed any!

Part 1 -- Part 3

Series Masterlist

“Thank you, again, for agreeing to meet, Mr. Smith,” Bucky started.

“I’ve been needing to catch up with Jonathan again so this was not out of my way,” Raymond replies after sipping his tea.

“Were you informed as to the reason for this appointment,” you ask. “I just want to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

“Indeed,” Raymond nods. “I was informed one of your people had a contract out on them and you were seeking to have it removed.” He pulls out his tablet and asks, “may I have the name of the person on the contract?” Bucky gives him Hummingbird’s name and he appears to search for it. “That’s quite the price tag on her head,” Raymond noted. “Did Mr. Bounty Hunter explain the costs for removal?”

Bucky nods, “we’re prepared to wire you the money. Half now, half after proof of the contract being burned.”

“Oh, you’re going for the full burn,” Raymond intoned. “Please do keep in mind that’s only a five year warranty that the person will not have a contract out for them.”

“We understand,” Bucky confirmed. He nodded to you and, after getting the account numbers from Raymond, wired half of the required money. Upon confirmation, Raymond worked at his tablet to remove the contract. GBH was able to confirm it was removed and any attempts at posting a new one under Hummingbird’s maiden or married name was unsuccessful. With that, you wired the rest of the small fortune.

“If that will be all,” Raymond went to stand, “I have a lunch planned with Mr. Pine.”

“Mr. Smith,” you interject, “I understand your policy on not sharing information on who posts contracts and I will not ask you to release anything that could directly identify them.” Raymond stays seated and nods at you. “However, as the target in question is important to our Family, and pregnant at that, I hope you can understand if I ask for any non-specific information without it hurting G– Mr. Bounty Hunter’s reputation.”

“Your politeness and understanding are greatly appreciated on this matter,” Raymond commented. “I understand how emotional these situations can be, especially where female targets are concerned. I also appreciate that you put her importance to you and yours ahead of her pregnancy. Many would consider me a monster for allowing a contract on a pregnant woman, but the fact is, I did not know and it wasn’t a consideration. I do not look into who the targets are, after all.” Raymond takes another sip of his tea. “You are correct that I have an obligation to not reveal anything and I can assure you that your professionalism has secured Mr. Bounty Hunter’s reputation. If anything, the fact that he brought along such level headed people encourages me to raise his standings.” He looks at GBH, “but that will be another discussion.” GBH nods his understanding.

Raymond continues, “as to any information about the person who posted the contract all personal intel will remain locked up. But, for your politeness and professionalism, not to mention Mr. Bounty Hunter’s good clout with our organization, I will say that a contract with this kind of price tag is almost always personal. Whoever wanted this woman dead, they didn’t want it for professional gain.”

“So someone with a personal vendetta against Steve,” Bucky mutters. “Doesn’t narrow it down too much.”

“I never said it was against Mr. Rogers,” Raymond remarked with a raised eyebrow. “Now, if you will all excuse me, I really must get to my lunch appointment.”

“So we’ve got Jake poring over her socials, the contract is burned, I’m not sure how much more we can do at the moment,” you report to Curtis. He picked you up from the hotel and was now driving the two of you to lunch with your mother and aunt.

He nods in agreement at your assessment, grateful to have something to think about other than finally meeting some of your family. He figured something like this would happen eventually but the reality of it is pretty daunting for him. Part of him feels like he’d rather go another round with Lloyd than do this. But you need him so he’s stepping up.

“Any last minute suggestions before we meet them,” he asks you.

“My mom and I are going to argue, that’s a given,” you tell him. “No matter how much you might want to, don’t try to get between us, just focus on talking to Aunt Jo. She’s the one who actually listens.”

“So, no advice on how to get mom to like me?”

“I don’t know if she actually likes anyone,” you confess. “We’ll just meet her for a quick meal and hopefully knowing that I’m in a relationship will give her one less thing to yap at me about.”

“We skip ordering a main course and just get appetizers, then?”

“Solid plan. I love it.” You lean over and kiss his cheek. “I hope you know I love you, too.”

“Always,” he promises with a smile.

You walk into the restaurant and spot your mom and Aunt Jo. Aunt Jo sees you enter and waves.

“Remember, Curtis, you just talk to Aunt Jo.” He nods in confirmation as you walk over. You give him a small thank you as he pulls out your chair for you, setting you across the table from your mother.

“What the hell is this?” Your mother’s tone is doused in acid. “You’re so desperate to get me off your back about dating that you hired a homeless person to play the role?”

Curtis’s eyebrows raise at the insinuation. He’d even made sure to dress up a bit.

“Mom, just because he has facial hair doesn’t mean he’s homeless,” you bite back. “We’ve been over this.”

“Well excuse me for thinking that any decent man would be clean shaven when meeting their partner’s family.”

“Not everyone has to abide by your standards.”

“You certainly didn’t,” your mother scoffs. “Look at you! It’s almost as if you’ve gained weight. Must be all the stress from losing your job with the author.”

“Oh, you’re no longer working for Mr. Drysdale?” Aunt Jo’s question is a welcome interruption for Curtis who is doing his best to follow your request and not intervene.

“Correct,” you smile at her. “I’ve got a much more satisfying, if busier, job. Still pays well and has great benefits, too!”

“If you’d kept the job with Drysdale you’d have a better chance at marrying rich and not having to work,” Mom accuses. “Honestly, your only chance before was attraction through familiarity. But now you don’t even have that!”

“Mom, Curtis, my boyfriend, is right here.”

“And?”

“And Curtis appreciates me as I am.”

Mom huffs, “probably because with you around he’s doubled his wardrobe. Or maybe your clothes are too big for him.”

“Just like not everyone cares about facial hair, not everyone cares about weight,” you snipe back.

“And from the intensity of his glare I think he’s quite taken with her,” Aunt Jo adds, smiling. “Seriously, young man, I’m so glad my niece is with someone who looks like he’d happily make a scene to defend her.” Curtis is caught off guard by the compliment but nods his thanks to your aunt.

Thankfully Mom’s reply is cut off by the waiter approaching and getting drink orders. You inwardly wince when your mother orders a mimosa, reinforcing your resolve to just get an appetizer and get out. You order yourself a ginger ale, knowing you’ll need it to help your stomach. Curtis orders a root beer, his comfort drink, so you know he’s feeling it too. You go ahead and order the appetizer now. The sooner it gets here, the sooner you can leave.

“An appetizer? Really?” Your mother shakes her head. “It’s bad enough you refuse to lose weight but to flaunt it in front of me is just rude.”

“The appetizer is all we’re going to eat,” you reply.

“So you’re admitting you don’t want to be here,” she snipes back. “Why bother showing up at all if you’re just gonna spit in my face by throwing away everything I tried to teach you and walking out on me?”

“Because it would be more rude to ignore you completely and you know it. I’m trying, I really am, even if you can’t see it.”

“And she’s clearly doing well for herself,” Aunt Jo adds. “She’s able to afford to keep living in the city, has a boyfriend who looks like he'd kill to protect her. And do you see her business outfit? That’s high-end stuff.”

Mom huffs yet again and Curtis sends Aunt Jo a look of gratitude as the drinks are brought out. Curtis makes sure to keep his hand on the bottle so he doesn’t slam a fist on the table as you and Mom keep arguing.

“They’re going to be like this until you leave,” Aunt Jo confides. “So tell me, how did you and my niece meet?” Curtis falls into a nice conversation with her, frequently glancing over at you, letting you squeeze his hand, sending glares to your mother. Aunt Jo smiles at him, “you’re taking good care of her. Thank you for that. She’s gonna need your support more than your anger after this.”

“Why are they like this?”

“Probably a strong dose of multi-generational trauma,” she tells him. “Women in our family have been strongly encouraged to go on starvation rations for generations with the ideal of marrying rich. Thankfully a few of us have broken loose, like our girl there. But, like a lot of women, she still wants some kind of approval from mother, you know?”

Curtis turns his attention to you, eyes full of adoration. He squeezes your hand, “how about we head home?”

“You’re living together?! I know I taught you better than to be a whore,” your mother loudly whispers. Curtis’s grip on the bottle goes so tight the glass cracks, getting the attention of everyone at the tables nearby.

“Sweetie, is your hand okay?” You give Curtis all of your attention and go to check if he’s cut himself.

“I’ll be okay,” he says through gritted teeth. “How about we just go home now?”

“Of course. Aunt Jo, it’s been a pleasure as always. Mom, I look forward to your phone calls and emails reprimanding me for everything. I hope the two of you enjoy the rest of your vacation.”

With that, you and Curtis get up, pay your bill and leave.

Part 1 -- Part 3

Series Masterlist

@alicedopey; @alexakeyloveloki; @bigtreefest; @dontbescaredtosingalong; @fic-reblogs-0-0; @hisredheadedgoddess28; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @texmexdarling; @veltana; @winter-soldier-101

#garbage men au #mafia!curtis everett #mob!curtis everett #curtis everett x female!reader #curtis everett x plus size!reader #mafia au

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ilikebigbellydotnom · 11 months

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Lupin iii Pred headcannons!

This list will focus on the 5 main characters plus a bonus 1! There will be details about hunger, WG, vore capacity and digestion details for each one, fujikos's a little different from the rest.

Arsene Lupin iii

Pred

Prefers female prey, but will happily accept the larger masculine prey as well, along with his friends/lovers on the odd occasion!

Can do Endo/safe vore but when unconscious, he has a higher risk of his stomach churning his prey or items if he doesn't wake up in time

HUNGER: Huge appetite

METABOLISM: below average; the skilled thief will gain a lot of fat and faint muscles from each lupin size prey he consumes, lowering and forcing his over all prey limit for strategic reasons, not because he's full. The fat lupin gains from prey will melt away within a couple weeks being the longest of the 3 lupin gang members and they tease him for it

PREY LIMIT: About 75 people, just a little larger then a big carousel of belly fat, after that limit lupin gets nauseous and self conscious about how much fat he'll gain afterwards

Daisuke Jigen

Pred

Prefers large male prey, the bigger the better, but any gut filler will do, the team 'metal smelter' easily destroys most objects without indigestion

Can NOT do Endo/safe vore, the deadly ex-merc has trained his gut to smelt and burn the flesh and metal of his food in seconds, meaning he can never devour his lovers or friends without them literally dying right as they enter the stomach... if he knows they will respond afterwards, he will happily take the rare chance!

HUNGER: Ravenous

METABOLISM: Extremely high; The marksman does not keep his fat or muscle gains from his prey for very long, the most his belly and butt fat lasts is 4 days - 2 weeks depending on how much prey and items he's consumed, he doesn't have an exact prey limit as lupin, but if he over does the goon gurgling on a heist he might just have comparable WG to lupins that could inconvenience him.

PREY LIMIT: ??? ; Jigen devours and melts down prey so effectively that he's never reached his limit yet, but would one day love to see what it would be.

Goemon Ishikawa xiii

Pred/Fatal Prey (usually kills his Preds from the inside out, if lupin devours him he enjoys it and his heart beat is soothing to the samurai's mind)

Has very picky prey preference, will rather starve then devour a person whose flavor is foul or too dirty for his liking, that being said he's usually the get away pred (Endo) for the gang capable of being able to dine on roughly 4 people and still able to fight, jump, and dash away.

Is fully capable of Endo and safe vore, has the most control of his hunger and gastric acids. You won't die inside him unless he wants you to be some samurai pudge.

HUNGER: Average but hangry

METABOLISM: High; although not as high as Jigen's burn rate or acid efficiency the samurai performs quite well with breaking down most living things, he struggles a bit with metals and will want belly rubs and acid relief tablets if that occurs. Minimal WG but has increased MG from the prey whenever he works out after digestion.

PREY LIMIT: roughly 50 people or a small house worth of belly before he gets queasy

Koichi Zenigata

Pred/Unwilling Prey

Any wrong doer, his baseline goal as an inspector is to detain and sometimes be the judge jury and executioner of some of his outings. His main goal in life is to always have lupin detained inside him, and eventually permanently digest Lupin iii! he will literally squeeze lupin out of another pred and then devour said pred just to reassure lupin goes back to the station inside of him, if he's ever lucky enough to get the slick monkey man.

Best pred for Endo vore! The cop has a gentle gut and slow acid production. Prey could stay alive for nearly 48 hours or so, but eventually the large man gets into a nutrient deficit and will automatically start to churn his prey.

HUNGER: Hungry, but resilient

METABOLISM: Below average, gains a round heavy overhang with increased gut fat every time he processes a prey. Can take weeks to burn off the extra thickness, sometimes it takes a matter of days to burn off the blubber if he doesn't eat anything and in harsh climates tracking lupin down.

PREY LIMIT: can handle a lot of squirming prey! A prison or two a year might ask him to clear out death row, which could have up to a 100 prey at once, definitely the gassiest out of all the Preds due to his age.

Fujiko Mine

Prey/Unwilling pred

Prefers no prey! but will devour if it keeps her safe, can't vore lupin because the horny man enjoys it too much, will threaten jigen with it, but never actually does it. Will always be prey for lupin in a exclusively sexual way, otherwise she doesn't enjoy it... But being inside a gut happens to her a lot more than she wants it to

Can't do Endo, traditional digestion they will suffocate and pass out first then digestion will start.

HUNGER: Reserved but hangry

METABOLISM: average, scared of the WG the men get, she doesn't like to vore often in general, when she does she takes a week off to work out and do squats to regain her body figure, can't process metals will regurgitate them.

PREY LIMIT: 3 people is a lot for her, she refuses to do more

Arsene Lupin I

Pred

Food over people most days, the vegetarian man makes rule breaks in his diet for big pesky villains and copers! Prefers his food dressed in a sauce or some form of vegetarian food to meld and increase the flavours!

Is capable of Endo vore, but improves his gut acid control and gut activity better with the usage of his abilities in age, easily In the first 5 years of him voring he's accidentally melted several people and items.

HUNGER: Always hungry

METABOLISM: below average; gains weight in the thighs easily along with an increasing overhanging gut when empty over the decades of feasting, his vegetarian body can't process bones very well and he will usually regurgitate them well after the prey is soupy. Will keep weight and muscles gain for as long as his grandson does

PREY LIMIT: goes from 10 early on, about the size of a large hot tub of gut space, and evloves his limit in his golden years to around 100 prey, the equivalent gut size to an Olympic swimming pool.

And that is my main vore headcannons for the main cast of the series, was quite fun to do this! I have other series I'm a fan of and can do more if anyone wishes me too!?

#male pred #male vore #same size vore #lup/in iii #zeni/gata koi/chi #dai/suke jig/en #goe/mon ishi/kawa #fuj/iko mi/ne #arsene lu/pin #pred headcannons #bellyspeaks #hunger kink #male wg #wg headcannon #rapid digestion #fatal vore

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curaehealth · 2 years

Link

#Fat burner #weight loss tablets #weight loss supplements #Health supplements #Vitamin tablet #burn belly fat #fat burner side effects #green tea fat burner #body fat burner #fat burner foods #thermogenic effect #fat burner diet

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hirik0 · 6 months

Text

Back to you part 6

Makarov/Yuri

When Yuri wakes up he's in an awful mode his alarm is way to loud and happend way to early. Working for Makarov? Forget it! Why did he even thought that's a good idea in the first place? This also means his plan to get Jack a phishing link also needs to change, god fucking damm it. He groans covering his eyes with his left arm, the sun is to bright, he sleeped to less, his throat hurt and has a cut and he has a video call with his lawyer in 30 minutes and the worst problem he has is that Makarov will be at his doorstep or a killer send by him at anytime. He more falls out the bad then rolling and he just want to sleep a littel longer. First thing he needs to cover the bandags around his throat, like his laywer can't see this, so he searches for a scarf or a turtle neck in his closet, nearly not finding either. In his hast he nearly dressed in the dress shirt with blood on the collar. Rushing half dressed, who needs pants if everybody is only seeing the upper half of your body, to the kitchen, where he nearly drops his full coffee cup. He will go back to bed after this call, nothing good will happen to him today. The call also starts in the worst way possible, his laywer looking clearly displeased before she drops this bomb question on him. "Did you sent anyone to intimate your husband?", Lucy Harris is asking him looking angry. "No", Yuri answers being confused by the question, to tiered to even entertain whi she even could refer too. "Well I had a phone call if your ex husbands laywer yesterday and they told me that you sent somebody to provoke him in his favourite bar to get a better case to divorce him." Yuri frowns taking a sip of his coffee trying to get his brain to work. "When was that?", he asks he would remeber if he ask anybody to do this. "The night you were in Moscow with your old friend." Yuris frown gets bigger at this what is she talking about. The realisation hits him like a train, she's talking about Makarov. "I never asked anybody to piss of Jack. If this person was there it was their desition and I don't have anything to do with it." "Well it would be good when it don't happen again." "Of course, I will talk to him." A fat lie because Makarov would do it anyway, especially now that they are fighting. "Good, well they are still push the dates for mediation around so their is honestly not much we can do for now, I can complain to the court over this of course, but I don't think it's to much if an issue now", she explains and Yuri just nods along money is not really an issue sure it sucks but thanks to Zakheav he actually has some really good paying jobs on the line. He also needs the time to adjust his plan now that... oh oh genius of course that can work perfectly. Getting Makarov of Jack with the fake Instagram perfect genius, if he dont get killed later this day. "Of course that sounds great", Yuri says to something he only half listened. And soon after the call ends, what means he can just go back to sleep for few more hours or till Makarov kills him.

Makarov didn't even sleep yet, breathing hurts and well nobody said he can't do work from the bed. So just simply started working. Going through the information he had on the last gig before 141, Europoles new wunder weapon against organisation crime, fucking losers in his opinion, confiscated half of his weapon shipment. Who was on it, who know what who is the mole? He even didn't most analog, do no text, no mails and somebody still got information out, the tablet he uses right now can't even connect to the Internet. Oh this rat will suffer, touring him will be so fun, so satisfying, but he first need to smoke them out. His eye burn from exhaustion, he's getting a nasty stress headache. Circulation a few false information, drawing the circel closer and closer like a shark swimming around a seal hiding on a rock, before taking the lethal bit. But he also need somebody on the outside, somebody that can keep track of what false information is circulating and who was told what, he can always ask Milena he made her husband fall on a knife 8 time after all and she is also profiting from his buisness in more indirect ways, but he dont want to. Everyone knows that he and Milena are close so his men will be careful around her he needs a new face. He lets himself fall back against the pillows when his mind sets on Yuri. Yuri would be perfect, few people know him, he could join easly, well till last night he would say he can trust him, but not with the Zahkeav situation. He's honestly not even angry at Yuri anymore well maybe still a littel bit, but he's now mostly angry at Victor Zakhaev how did he even found Yuri? Depending on what he will learn at 3 pm there are probably a lot of persons trying to recruit Yuri to work for them exclusively. But Yuri is his, only his.

He sits in his office the pain meds finaly working. Waiting for Paval, his man for cyber crime what makes a good stable amount of money every year. Yuri claimed he sometimes sold to Pavel and well truth soon will be discovered. Pavel looks pale when he walks in as to be aspected, being called in by the boss with out given a reason is usally a very bad sign. His hands are slightly shaking when he sits down ready to throw a subordinate under the bus if needed. "What can you tell me over the Magpie, Pavel?", Makarov asks enjoying the effect he has on the other man. "His malware is amazing, but the windows you can buy from him are rare, he sometimes even offers to write custom programs for the right amount of money, but nobodyever could confirm that. His work is good, he's on time, I always buy something when his shop is open." Makarov nods along so if Yuri is who he claims to be he is a very valuable asset to the organisation. "What do you know about him?" Pavel frowns that is the whole point of him only selling a few times a year is to make sure he can't be found that easy, there is only one think that is seen as confirmed that he must work on cyber security. A insider making money on the side with crime. "He works in cyber security, besides that he's hiding his identity very well. Makarov frowns at this so how did Zakheav found him then? Pavel starts to sweat under the angry gaze of his boss, not sure if he is of the hook or not. "Would you reconices his work?", Makarov asks having to suppress a yawn, he needs more coffee. "I even have some of his latest work to directly compare it to anyone that claims to be the Magpie", Pavel nearly wispers not wanting to unleash Makarovs anger on himself. "Perfect, be prepared to do so, you can go now." With this Makarov dismisses Pavel who has the feeling he's a gazelle getting away from a very hungry lion. So he walks out of the place as fast as he can without looking like he's running. Makarov makes himself another coffee he really wants a drink, but he don't mixes medication with alcohol, the risk of accidently killing himself out of stupidity. That would be embarrassing because he's the man with at least 5 back up plans, the man that knows how to use legal grey zones for his advantage, the one never been pinned down for the big crimes, always getting away. Not for a lag of trying and the 141 is becoming a pain in his ass, Captain John Price had a interesting team. His attack dog Simon 'Ghost' Riley who lost his whole family because of a cartel, Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick his protégé since he finished college with degree in forensics, the hard to kill Gary 'Roach' Sanderson who lost his voice in a undercover mission he barely survived and the new guy John 'Soap' MacTavish who before worked in the bomb squad. Not to forget his supporters behind the scenes Nikolai somebody that left crime to become a police officer, Kate Laswell and Alex Keller that are their contacts to Interpol, Shepard leader of a anti drug unit of the several US agencies and his attack dog Graves who is in lead in the fight against Mexican Cartels.

He takes a sip from his coffee if he had to bet money on it he would put it on Graves having installed a mole. He's actually know for doing highly questionable undercover missions, most aren't as lucky a Sanderson and survive when the cover is ultimately blown. 141 stared to target him around 7 months, ruining plans of his all over Europe, but the mole must be here for longer. Makarov knows the failing rate for new people to join his organisation is around 70%, most of them die, the next biggest reason he rejects them because their work is bad, they are unreliable, some cracking under the pressure of police when all they have to do is shut their stupid mouth. So for somebody to get this high to get that valueable information to seriously hurting his organisation they must work for him for nearly two years, must be working directly under one of his Lieutenants. His coffee mug is half empty and the damm drink can't keep his exhaustion at bay anymore. He can visit Yuri after he sleeped, making a strategic move tiered can end disaster because Yuri is probably well rested by now and would likely not put up a fight this time. Also when he breaks into Yuris place at a unsuspected time or when Yuri is asleep he has the uper hand.

Yuri is still tiered when he wakes up again in the late afternoon. He is still alive, what don't mean that Makarov is not in his living room when he leaves his bed room. But their is no Makarov in his living room waiting for him, what honestly is worse, if the other Russian would be in his place he atleast knows he is about to die. Now he hast to wait, he turns on his laptop so he can check his mails. He puts a pizza in the oven because well he need to eat. Before laughing at his silly thought, you can just text Makarov and ask. While waiting for his pizza he checks over his mails, seeing a familiar mail address from work. Kate Laswell wrote him, he frowns should he read it, should he just delete it? He can still delete it after reading. He already cringes when he reads the first part of the mail. Sure Kate probably don't know he's divorcing their interaction were always exclusively business.

Dear Mr. Blaire,

Mrs Potter was so friendly to give me your new business mail address. We were very grateful if we could still use your expirince for some of our cases, please send me a list with your prices as soon as possible.

Regards

Kate Laswell

He looks dumbfounded at the mail for a while. He never planned to keep working in cyber security, did he told that his colleagues sure, but it was a lie. Also of course Alice gave out his e-mail out, one he also only uses to keep the lie from being to obvious. He thinks about simply deleting the mail account, does he really still need it? It would be foolish to keep the account now that he has the first profitable jobs to modify certain malware and bots for the people Zahheav introduced him. The smell of pizza is slowly filling the room so he takes a look at it, the cheese isn't melded enough for him. When he goes back to his laptop he nearly clicks delete account when he rembers he also gave this mail also to his lawyer. So he does the next best think blocking Laswell and deleting her mail with out answering. This is probably something he should talk with Makarov about if ge survives the fight ring problem. After getting the pizza out if the oven he grabs his phone opening his chat with Makarov. Seeing his drink text from the night in Moscow with Milena and he laughts at the absurdity on how their relationship did a 180 by now. He still sends the silly text he about Makarov killing him.

Yuri: you decided on killing me yet or can I do work?

Its such a stupid text, why did he even send it? He bits in his pizza the cheese and tomato sauce burning his mouth. Great really a bad day, he sits down on his couch laptop on his lap pizza on the couch table and it's fucking nostalgic. He can't even recall how often Makarov, Milena and him sat after university together in a living room all doing homework and complain about it. How often they would ask Makarov about the law, how often he helped Milena with the math for her buisness degree how often the other looked over his code to find the one missing semicolon so the code would work. He was happy back then. All of them working their ass of in university at day and at the fighting ring at night to finance their degrees. Then Jack happened and Makarov and Milena stayed away, because they could not stand his boyfriend. How they would fight, because of Jack their friendship crumbling honestly a wonder they even came to the wedding. But now after all this time after he came back it don't feel like things never changed, like Jack never happened, well besides Makarov maybe killing him after he already gave him a unheard second chance he won't get a third.

Makarov: Andrei will come by and you will give him an USB-stick with some of your code for comparison

Y: you can read code by now?

M: I have people for that

Y: of course you have

Yuri sighs so his contact person in Makarovs organisation want to see some of his work, to compare to what he sells. He rolls his eyes coding a classic first generation malware. He eats the next slice of pizza thinking what to do add to it to give it his spin. Something that screams Magpie. Mid chew he knows exactly what to do. Does he have to prove to his claim of being the Magpie sure to a stranger, but he also can do something that Makarov knows from back in universety.

#call of duty #makayuri #vladimir makarov #cod yuri

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nutrigze · 1 year

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coldresolve · 1 year

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Moneymakers, pt.xxx // the_attic_101120XX

For once I'm gonna put a big fat trigger warning here on tumblr too: TW SELF-INJURY in the form of cutting. Dead dove, frfr. Previous / AO3 / Wattpad / Masterlist / Next

Renee’s heart isn’t in it. Not at first, anyway.

He knows that by this new tension in the atmosphere, which makes the air almost palpable to breathe in, marring even the glances he exchanges with Davin. He’s pretty sure Conrad can sense it, too, or maybe he’s just scared again, he just keeps his gaze down. The spotlights hammer heat through layers of black clothes, making Renee sweat as he secures Conrad’s handcuffs to the hinge in the massive oak table they’ve moved in front of the camera. It looks like an interrogation in a way, with Conrad seated there, hands locked to the tabletop. Renee is waiting for the line he snorted to kick in, to regain that sense of normalcy, but until that moment comes, all he feels is apathy. Honestly, he’d rather get drunk and play video games right now, rather spend the day wasting time on meaningless bullshit.

But a job is a job.

One-handed, he pulls the balaclava over his head, feeling his cut hair prick against the fabric, and turns on the camera. Automatically, he strides backwards, watching Davin for the small nod to signify they’re live. The chat, which they’ve set up on a tablet facing Renee, is already running. People are excited, they’ve been waiting for a while.

Davin finally nods.

Renee takes a deep breath. Smiles behind the balaclava. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he says with forced ruefulness, “in-betweeners and outsiders – we’re back at last.”

As he strides to the table Conrad is sitting at, he wonders at the ease with which that persona comes back, that role he has to play for the cameras of an enthusiastic torturer, as if the balaclava shrouds him in the veil of his character. It’s as much a performance right now as the beaming smile of a cashier, he thinks, or the professional understanding nod of a nurse long since numbed to tragedy.

He hops up to sit on the edge of the table, facing the camera. Winces briefly at the pain in his arm. “Some shit happened while we were away, most of which I won’t go into for the time being. Safe to say, we’re not gonna be drowning him again. We’re in luck, though. There’s more ways than one to have some fun.” He chuckles.

Eleven thousand to cut off an ear. Sixteen to have at him with a bull whip. Twenty to hamstring him. Some suggest to sodomize him, a line Davin and Renee already agreed not to cross, while other suggestions lack entertainment value altogether.

Renee sniffs as he lets his eyes scroll over the price tags in the chat. “I actually had something in mind,” he mutters. “I’d like a lazy day today, really kick my feet up and let other people do all my work for me. How does that sound?” He taps the table. “What do we want to see him do to himself, hm?”

There’s a small noise from Conrad behind him, almost inaudible.

Amelia1-5: Make him burn himself with something?

83942347: I see a hammer on the table behind you. 5k for each finger you get him to break.

Egogod76: If you use a stun gun on yourself do your muscles seize up on the button? Be fun to find out hehe.

As Renee reads the suggestions, he feel that old feeling of euphoria finally starting to creep in, like a flower blooming in the back of his mind.

Wyvern: Miserable enough to be a cutter, isn’t he? Make him carve a word of your choosing into his arm, 17k. I’ll make it an even 20k if you can get him to hit muscle.

Renee chuckles as he reads the username. “Wyvern, huh? That’s awfully generous of you.” He slides off the table, making his way back to the table of tools, markedly not looking at Conrad until he’s on his way back to him, nonchalantly flicking the straight razor open in his good hand. “What do you say, hm? Sound doable?”

The guy sits very still, staring stiffly at his hands clamped in front of him. The only clue as to his state of mind is his rapid breathing, noise carefully suppressed.

Lightly running the razor around the side of Conrad’s chin, Renee tilts his head to the side to look him in the eye. “I’m talking to you, dipshit.”

Conrad swallows, breathing sharply through his nose. “I won’t,” he says. And then he looks away.

Renee laughs. “That’s cute.” He leans in closer. “If you don’t do it, I’ll break both your hands with the hammer,” he mutters. “How about that?”

Conrad winces, and there’s tears in his eyes now.

“Do you honestly think that’s an idle threat?” Renee chuckles. “Are you that stupid?” And he brings his fist down on the table hard enough to rattle it, just to watch Conrad jump. He lets go of the razor, letting the it tip towards Conrad’s grasp, and gets himself comfortably seated in a chair behind him, kicking his feet up on the table. His elbow aches as he crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Go on,” he tells Conrad. “We don’t have all day.”

Conrad eyes the straight razor in front of him like it’s a puzzle far past his comprehension. He looks back at Renee, swallowing thick. His voice is small. “You can’t expect me to, to…”

“Stop talking and cut yourself, Conrad,” Renee says, and while the amusement isn’t entirely gone from his tone, neither is his irritability. “Let me think of a nice word while you get used to it.”

Carefully, with a grimace of disgust marring his features, Conrad wraps his fingers around the razor’s handle, breathing impossibly shallow. Hands still cuffed to the hinge in the table, he moves the blade down one arm, until the edge barely brushes skin – and then he stops there, hovering. “I can’t do this,” he groans, sniffing. “I can’t do this.”

Renee chuckles. “Exactly how handicapped do you want to be in the near future? That’s the real question here.”

When Conrad turns to look at him, pale and wide-eyed, he cocks his head to the side. It takes the guy a while, but eventually, he takes a deep breath and quickly flicks the razor across his skin.

Renee kicks his feet on the ground, leaning over the table and squinting. From the shallow cut in Conrad’s arm, beads of blood begin to coalesce and run down onto the table. “Nah,” Renee says. “You’re gonna have to do better than that.”

“I can’t,” Conrad hisses.

Renee gets up, walking back to the table of tools to grab the hammer, bringing it back into Conrad’s view. “Drop the razor, then. Hold out your hands.”

Conrad shakes his head, teeth gritted against a sob. His hand clutching the straight razor is shaking. “I c-can’t do it,” he stammers.

Renee hits the table with the hammer hard enough to leave a dent in the wood, teeth bared under his mask. When Conrad flinches, Renee has the impulse to bring the hammer down on the guy’s stupid, curly head, feel that thick skull give way. He’s pretty sure he knows what kind of sound it would make.

Maybe something shows in his eyes, because Conrad winces and turns his attention back to the razor and his arm. Renee watches with spiteful, hungry eyes as the knife digs into flesh again, this time going deeper than before. The knife shakes so badly by the time he’s done with the cut, tiny droplets of blood are flicked from blade to table. Conrad lets out a whine as the pain hits him, rocking somewhat in his seat.

“Another,” Renee says. “This time, make it fucking count.”

A sob racks through Conrad’s frame as he tries to steady himself to cut again. “I hate you,” he hisses under his breath.

Renee just snickers, and waits, absentmindedly twirling the hammer in his hand.

The third time Conrad draws the razor across his forearm, he finally lets the blade bite deep. It’s fascinating to see his expression change from the anticipation of pain to something akin to shock as the wound gapes open under the knife – to actual pain when his nerves finally catch up. He lets out a cry, dropping the razor to the table, clutching his arm tight in his other hand. Blood creeps out between his fingers.

Renee raises a brow. “Not bad,” he says. Lets out a chuckle. “Now do it again.”

Conrad swallows, not looking up at him. “Again…?”

Renee shrugs. “C’mon, someone’s paying good money for this.” He pauses. “How about that, hm? I’ll let you carve out some dollar signs. Man’s gotta know his own worth.” He laughs.

Conrad looks on the verge of throwing up. Hand slick with blood, he warily picks the razor back up, steeling himself for another cut.

By chance, Renee’s eyes drift to the tablet as he waits for Conrad to bring the knife across again. “Oh, hang on,” he says. “There’s drama in chat.”

Amelia1-5: Someone ban cortesal.

Amelia1-5: keeps running his mouth

Renee snickers. “You think we have chat moderation? This isn’t fucking Twitch, Amelia.”

N0cturn4l: We got a preacher in chat ahaha

Ricochet: LMAO @cortesal448 just kill yourself honestly.

“Fuck, no, hang on, let’s see what this bitch has to say,” Renee chuckles, as he walks over to the tablet, scrolling back until he finds the comment from the right username. “The host is a coward through and through,” he reads. “He terrorizes someone he already knows can’t fight back, meanwhile he for sure can’t take what he dishes out… insecurity, bla bla… I wouldn’t be surprised if he… oh.” Renee pauses, squinting at the screen. “Oh that’s not family friendly.”

Laughing, he steps back from the screen, looking at the camera.

“You bring up some interesting points, I’ll admit, but you’re wrong about a few things. First of all,” he says, pulling a knife from his pocket. “I lay some mean pipe.”

He chuckles a little to himself as he flicks the knife open.

“Second of all… Can’t take what I dish out, huh? You think I’m a hypocrite. Really?”

Renee hitches up the sleeve, careful not to disturb his broken arm too visibly, and places the blade against the skin on his forearm. With a forefinger against the blade’s back, he presses the edge downwards and steadily moves it across. Pale skin is split layer by layer, anatomy he recognizes but can’t name. As blood begins to flow, creeping forward from sources not visible by the naked eye, the pain finally comes creeping too, a shrill note that fades in and almost immediately crescendos, deafening out most of everything else. He pays mind to it, acknowledges it, but doesn’t let it take over his body, not yet. Instead he keeps applying pressure until the knife makes it past bubbly deposits of fat to expose stringy bands of darker, more fibrous flesh, and to avoid permanent damage, he stops there, retracts the knife, closes his eyes, and leans his head back. One deep breath at a time, in through the nose, slow and steady, he lets it wash over him, lets it surround him without a fight; a rush is a rush is a rush…

As the immediate pain fades to a duller, more muffled ache, Renee gives a sharp shake of his head, rolls one shoulder. Opens his eyes and meets Conrad’s incredulous expression with amusement playing on his own.

With a sigh, he lightly sticks the tip of the knife into the wound as he holds it up to the camera, pointing to the darkest layer. “That right there is muscle,” he says. “I’ve made Conrad DeWitt scream and beg with less – so yeah, I can take it. I’d go as far as to say I can take it better.”

He dries the knife off in his pants, clicking it closed and sliding it back into his pocket.

Conrad’s just staring at him, open-mouthed.

Renee laughs. “What? Bitch called me a coward.” He shrugs. “Get back to work.”

That finally makes Conrad close his mouth.

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#writing #moneymakers #renee #conrad

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