#THANKS FOR INDULGING ME ANON

[lucabyte]

leering

[moongreenlight]

I love your work about the 141 gossiping about Ghost, love the concept of him having a “secret wife”.

Please please please write more with “secret wife y/n”, I beg of you. 🙏🏻

ANYTHING FOR YOU, ANON. <3 Ghost and secretwife!reader are my sweet babies I love them so much.

Tw: blond Simon & smiling Simon. Read at your own risk.

If there’s one thing Gaz knows how to do, it’s shut the fuck up. And if there was ever a time to employ that skill, it was now. Now after he’d been frozen watching the two of you reunite after a close call. After he’d discovered your dirty little secret. Suddenly feeling like Icarus after flying too close to the sun. Hurtling back down to earth. He was certain that when he moved there would be a crater under his feet where his stomach dropped.

He’d gone so green that another nurse came up and gently tugged on his arm to see if he was alright. He snapped his jaw shut, nodding and mumbling something that didn’t sound anywhere near reassuring. But he forced himself to leave the medbay. Left the two of you behind the curtain, where in his final glance back he saw that your feet were still neatly on top of Ghost’s big boots. Pushed up on your toes to be able to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

He made some excuse not to meet with you that evening. Could barely look you in the eye when you caught him in the hall, looking significantly more cheery than you had been that morning. You pried, asking if he was alright, feeling his forehead with the back of your hand, but he claimed the stress of their mission had just hit him and he really needed to sleep.

It took him weeks to get over the initial shock. Couldn’t stand next to Ghost during conditioning. Made a point of sitting catty-corner to him during meetings and in transit so he had the least chances of accidentally catching his eye. Feeling like he’d deeply bastardized the idea of ‘Ghost.’ Blurred the lines between the man Gaz knew and the man he was in private.

He tried to reason with himself. Keep it fresh in his mind that he’d seen the signs, just hadn’t been able to fully connect the dots by himself. And it was an accident. He’d never intentionally pry into either of your personal lives like that. It wasn’t in his character. There was nothing innately wrong with the two of you hiding a marriage. Probably would have been an HR nightmare. Gotten both of you re-stationed. He was certain you both had a good reason to hide it. And there was no better person to find out than him. He’d actually be able to keep it a secret. Soap would immediately run his mouth. Get on the intercoms and scream the news as loud as he could. Price would pull the both of you aside and try to have some heart-to-heart. Not that it wouldn’t have been nice, it just would have felt too forced. Wouldn’t have served any real purpose.

So eventually he gets over it. Never pressed you about your marriage again, and you never seemed too keen on following up his request from months ago. The dust settles in his mind. He shelves the information like an old book. Life goes on.

And then the weather turns. Starts getting colder. The first few weeks of cold after summer where the wind stings a little more. Finds it’s way through jackets and uniforms a little more artfully. Soldiers are catching ill and passing it around like it’s a competition of who can infect the entire base. The medbay is busy, but a different kind of busy than summer when it’s an optimal time to see missions through.

The medics are tasked with rounding up all the soldiers on base and issuing flu vaccines to hopefully prevent further spread. You trudge to Price’s office in the early morning. He notices you look a little pale. The rims of your eyes and tip of your nose are blotchy. A gentle shade of pink that he assumes is from the weather or the cold you were bound to catch. You chat for a bit, catch up because you haven’t had the opportunity for a few weeks. Let him know that he and the boys need to make their way to the bay for their shots at some point.

You feel a little woozy. Pressing into his doorframe for support, white-knuckling it to keep yourself from swaying in your spot. He looks a little concerned. Asks if you need to take a few days away to recoup. You wave him off, tell him it’s nothing you can’t handle, but he insists on walking you back to medbay. And he’s glad he did because on the short walk back you find yourself having to duck into a dark meeting room so you can vomit into a trash can.

He keeps a steadying arm wrapped around your waist when you stumble back out into the hall. Shaking his head when you profusely apologize. Slowing his normally long strides so you were comfortable. Gently lets you down on your own cot and instructs you to stay where you are while he goes to find a few other doctors that can delegate your work for the day between them so you can have the day off.

He sends you home despite your protest. You’d already gotten your color back. Claimed you must’ve had something off to eat. He wasn’t having it. Said he wouldn’t have his best doctor spreading sick because she’s too stubborn to get off her feet for a few hours. He’s a bit more stern than usual because he knows you won’t listen otherwise, but he brings you a ginger ale and sits next to your bed until you’ve finished it.

Later that day, when he and the boys finally get around to the bay for vaccines, he notices the way Ghost’s eyes dart around like he was looking for something. His shoulders tensing when he sees your station empty, and moments after he’s taken his shot, Price sees that he’s slunk off to a corner to make a phone call.

He doesn’t think much of it. He’s been trying to give Ghost some space. So he just shrugs it off. Let’s him finish up whatever he’s doing before they get back to work.

The boys have gotten in the habit of taking a week off as the snow melts. Just before Spring brings rain and the soft buds of new leaves on the trees. Unofficial tradition proposed early on to have a few more days rest before things inevitably picked up again. Usually gave the boys time to kick off to visit family or get some well needed time away from base. Get in a well needed break because God knew they wouldn’t be able to for the foreseeable future.

Soap finds himself a little North of Manchester in his time off. Went out to see his godparents in Bolton for a couple days before getting back up to Iverness to see his parents. Meandering through a supermarket to pick up a bottle of wine for his godmother and a bottle of bourbon for himself. Could have sworn he saw Simon turning a corner at the end of the aisle. Chalked it up to a trick of the light. Seeing things after months of close quarters with his L.T.

But then he saw the man again. Stood in line at the butcher’s counter. No mask, but the same crooked nose and cropped blond hair. Same scar hooking his jaw. Swapped out his uniform and gear for a thick leather jacket, white shirt, and a pair of jeans. Would have been unrecognizable if Johnny didn’t know him so well.

He was about to head over to say hello. Make some wise crack about Ghost missing him too much, but he was stilled for a moment when a woman approached Simon. Pushed her cart up next to him and nudged his side with her hip. Prompted him to give her a small smile- the only smile Soap had ever seen Simon grace anyone with. No teeth, just a curve of his lips, but it changed his face completely.

Ghost said something to the woman. She reached up to fuss with the collar of his jacket. Johnny saw her shoulders shake slightly and heard the quiet tinkling sound of her laughter. Completely shell shocked. So imagine his surprise when the woman turned away from Ghost and it was you. Only you looked wildly different. He knew your face well enough, but after almost six months not going to the medbay on a weekly basis, something had changed.

Even wearing an oversized sweatshirt he could see the way it pulled taught against your swollen belly. Saw the way your arm was cradling it like second nature. He didn’t even realize that the bottle of wine had slipped from his fingers until he watched Simon’s head snap toward the sound. Ears perked. Tense like he’d suddenly flashed onto the battlefield. His eyes went wild for a moment as he scanned the busy aisle, calmed only a degree when he found you.

It’s like that Spider-Man meme where the three of them meet and point at each other. Johnny’s smiling sheepishly (for once), your jaw is dropped in surprise, and Simon is glaring daggers at Johnny like somehow it was his fault that you were all in the same place at once. You’re the first one to move. Rushing up to him as quickly as you could- now moving a bit awkwardly with the disproportionate weight of your pregnancy on your front. Asking if he was alright. Grabbing his hands to make sure the glass hadn’t cut him.

Simon tailed you like a hulking shadow. Glowering down at Soap something fucking ferocious. Didn’t even give him time to tell you he was fine. Pulling you back behind his arm by the wrists with a kind of gentleness Johnny had never known the L.T. to possess. You twisted your face in displeasure, batting his hands away and stepping back out from behind the wall that was your husband. Ignoring the wine and the soft crunch of glass under your shoes.

And to Soap’s absolute bafflement, Simon stood down. Didn’t try to yank you back, didn’t voice his protest, just drew his mouth into a hard line and let you push past him. He was speechless. For what well may have been the first time in his life, John MacTavish had no words. Couldn’t apologize for the mess. Couldn’t crack a joke. Couldn’t even say hello. He was pure dead at a loss.

Somehow, he allowed you to guide him away from the mess he’d made- staining the waxed tile a muted crimson even after the disgruntled looking employee came over to mop it up. Found his voice in your tugging him along after you and Simon to the checkout where you insisted you’d pay for the bottle of bourbon he’d managed not to send careening to the ground. Tried to tell you no, but you’d already sent it down the belt. And by the time you’d rooted through your purse in search of your card, Simon had already finished paying and was tucking his wallet into his back pocket.

Shuffled out with the two of you into the car park. Making a point of putting distance between himself and Simon who was pushing the cart with one hand and had the other planted firmly on the small of your back. Always walking on the side of oncoming traffic.

Johnny tried to keep up with your conversation. Asking him about his break. Where he was staying and for how long. How had he been. But it was tense. He could feel Ghost’s eyes on the back of his head. Burning through him. Making him feel like he had a target tacked to his skull.

He said a quick goodbye when Ghost helped you into the passenger seat of your car. You said you’d see him soon enough, said if he had any extra time before they went back he’d have to come by for dinner. Simon closed the door before you could say anything else. Looking monumentally irked.

The two men stood in suffocating silence while Simon unloaded the groceries into the trunk. Johnny tried to ignore the glinting of the silver band on the L.T’s finger. Caught the light every time he set a new bag in the back. A little unsure if he was being dismissed or if Ghost was just waiting until he was certain you wouldn’t hear the lashing he was bound to receive.

But it all stayed relatively calm. Maybe the eye of the hurricane. Simon pushed the bottle of bourbon into his chest before swinging the trunk shut.

“Appreciate if you’d keep this between us.”

Ghost spoke first, the words sounding a bit sticky in his throat- like they didn’t want to come out.

“‘Course.”

Johnny’s voice wasn’t much better. Both of them shifted on their feet. Not use to this kind of conversation. Uncomfortable being pushed from their usual dynamic.

Simon just nodded, moving to push the cart back to the corral. Johnny followed.

“How long you been keepin’ this in?”

“Which bit.”

His response was flat.

“Dinnae, L.T. Seems yer a man o’ mystery these days.”

Soap prodded, unable to help himself. A smile crept into his voice.

“Don’t push it.”

Simon bit back.

“Bonnie thing for a brute like you.”

“Johnny.”

“Looks ready’ta pop.”

A harsh sigh from Ghost. He reached into his jacket pocket like he was going for a cigarette. Tightening his jaw when his hand showed back up empty. He hummed his agreement.

“Few months.”

They’d reached Johnny’s car by this point. Just a few rows over in the car park. Stood by his driver’s side door shuffling their feet once more.

“Ken it’ll turn out like you?”

He couldn’t help but ask. Never pictured Ghost the fatherly type, but the idea was growing on him now that it’d been planted in his mind.

“Hope not.”

Simon gruffed back. Johnny snorted.

“Boy o’ girl?”

This earned him a nasty look, but he figured he was in deep enough as it was. No harm in asking.

“Girls.”

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Snap: *draws a Megaman-inspired Magneto*

Me: ...Perfect modernization.

wait now that its not 3AM i can do you one Slightly better

bonus:

[daeyumi]

selfshipping cringe af. Get a real bf

anyways here’s me & my longtime partner Link kissing 🩵

[pearlzier]

⠀ˑ   𓈒 𐔌  introducing . . . nerd .ᐟ reader  aka bee .   ͡꒱ ۫⠀

sweet as honey. awkward. proud weird girl. craves validation. theatre kid. overthinker. reading fanfiction &&. writing it. visits to the library. unfinished projects. procrastinator. any &&. all colours. animal lover. apple cider. very uncoordinated. day dreamer. butterflies. crochet obsessed. jewellery maker. summer &&. spring. funky nail polish. hot chocolate always. stuffed animals. good listener. night owl. easily attached. tyler the creator && doechii's #1 fan. doodling. star girl. bugs.

（◞‸◟）ㅤ◞ ㅤ ☆ㅤnerd.ᐟmatt explains fortnite slang to bee .

（◞‸◟）ㅤ◞ ㅤ ☆ㅤnerd.ᐟmatt wakes up to bee wide awake in the kitchen because she's restless, so they make hot chocolate as a distraction.

[shootingstarpilot]

i keep imagining maces pov of when qui-gon gets decked and its so funny to me. this poor man just wants to know where his kid his friends padawan is but unfortunately he only has his his stupid friend whos panicking rn, a troll, and a very concussed soldier (who recognizes him??) who is having the most eventful and stressful days of his life to get any information from. and also theres a dead sith there. rip mace windu shout-out to him for not strangling qui-gon immediately after cody and co leave

...okay, yeah, i'm running with this.

because- mace has valiantly put off punching qui-gon. he has resisted every temptation. violence is so rarely a useful tool. he has not punched qui-gon. he will not punch qui-gon.

he is a jedi.

even when qui-gon returns to the temple self-righteous and indignant and without the child under his care-

he is a jedi.

even when they get the call, and he looks at qui-gon, who looks back at him, hopeful and eager and certain that he will be the one to go, to return, to repent, and mace thinks you do not deserve this and sends him anyway-

he is a jedi.

even when the shuttle returns, dropping out of orbit and straight through mace's stomach when he makes it to the dock just in time to see the healers vanish around the corner, qui-gon standing empty-handed on the landing, staring after them, blood on his tunics and under his fingernails-

he is a jedi.

even when vokara looks them both in the eyes and says infection and trauma and intubate, even when qui-gon asks can i see him? and there's no hint of a we, even during those three awful days of fever where mace finds himself hovering outside the halls with ever more minor errands, feeling obi-wan fade and flicker in the force and occasionally hearing the screams of please and no-! and names he does not know-

even then.

he is a jedi.

three days after obi-wan is pulled from the bacta tank:

another errand. theoretically. for the life of him mace cannot remember what he came here to deliver. but then the door to obi-wan's room opens, and vokara steps out, still speaking, her voice warm, some recounting of one of qui-gon's many misadventures that landed him in her care, and then she turns and sees him and before the door shuts behind her-

"master mace?"

the voice is thin and thready and mace closes his eyes.

"all right?" he whispers to vokara.

she raises an eyebrow. "he's asking for you."

(mace will find out later that this is the first time since his return that obi-wan has dared to asked for anything.)

he steps up to the threshold.

"obi-wan," he says. "may i come in?"

at the nod, mace steps forward and lets the door slide shut behind him. he settles into the chair left faithfully at the side of the bed.

obi-wan looks- unwell.

this is not, perhaps, the most novel observation. but it is one thing to know where and how he'd spent his last year. it is another matter entirely to see the proof of it, even beyond the cavernous wound he'd come home with-

in his size and stature, much smaller than that of a healthy child of his age. in the thinness of his face, the look of hunted hunger. in the scarring on the knuckles of his hands, clenching spasmodically in the layered blankets.

in the way he watches mace.

"obi-wan," mace repeats, and with the sound of his name comes an easing of the weight on his shoulders, each syllable fading into a sigh of relief, and he hadn't known what to say even as he'd stepped into the room- there is so much that needs saying, so many words he cannot find-

he smiles, instead, and rests his hands on his knees. "i have missed you very much."

when obi-wan reaches for him, mace is ready.

he ends up settled on the edge of the bed, one hand around obi-wan's shoulder as the boy curls into his side. he tugs gently at the tangled knot of pain still clouding obi-wan's thoughts, feeding the threads into the force, and feels him relax, bit by bit.

he's not asleep. his grip on mace's robe is too tight. his breathing too fast.

'how are you feeling?" mace asks quietly.

"okay."

the response is immediate, easy, and entirely untruthful.

"do you- need to go?"

mace catches qui-gon's approach. feels him pause.

feels him retreat.

"no," he says. "not at all."

he is a jedi.

there is so much to grieve, in the next few weeks. so much. obi-wan swings between different types of silence- sullen, frightened, exhausted, dissociating. tattered and bleeding in the force. he kicks and punches and bites and sometimes does not leave his room for days on end. he scratches at his skin until he bleeds, picks at his meals with a dull disengagement, sleeps sporadically, if at all-

it is very difficult, sometimes, to not be angry at qui-gon.

but the first time he visits their apartment, obi-wan recoils hard and fast at the first leak of such sentiments from behind his shielding, and mace decides that they have had their full of violence.

he is a jedi.

and besides-

qui-gon talks to him. talks to others, too, who talk between themselves, for no one is willing to let them handle this alone. mace sits and listens and sees the bruises bloom on qui-gon's arms and legs from small hands beating back imagined enemies, and knows anger is not what's needed here.

it persists, yes, but it does not rule.

he is a jedi.

and then-

and then.

(the force is full of screaming.)

the temple lets them through and the gardens are burning and there is a corpse on the floor and obi-wan is-

gone, qui-gon says.

i don't know where. he's gone.

and for a moment mace can hardly breathe under the weight of the fear and the fury and the you have a habit of losing him, don't you?, and he catches the thought and breathes it out, recognizing its roots, its unfairness, drawing his focus to the sith, listening with one ear to qui-gon's recounting even as he presses a hand to the rift, searching for some leeway and finding none, feeling the pressure build behind his eyes, swiping impatiently at the blood drying under his nose-

then something hums.

the soldiers are immensely professional. clear-cut and firm and shielded in the force, understandably reticent with information. but the most disconcerting thing by far...

they look to him.

all of them.

there's a familiarity there.

he's safe with us, the commander says, and looks at him.

safe-with-us, echos the force. safe-with-lightning-safe-with-fighting-safe-with-dying-safe-with-surviving-safe-with-us.

what else can he do but accept it?

he is a jedi.

and then qui-gon-

qui-gon-

well.

he is a jedi.

so he crouches next to him, rests a hand on his shoulder, and when qui-gon turns a shell-shocked gaze on him, says quietly- "come on. let me see."

he is a jedi.

he does not punch qui-gon.

but he is not entirely immune to schadenfreude.

[wavewavethoughtsonly]

just want you to know that you're an incredible writer

🥹💙💜

[tojisun]

Loool but can you imagine dinner? Like your dad invited his friend and you with your boyfriend😂 I think it will be kinda awkward for you and Simon, but not fot Toji, he’s like don’t give a fuck, with that smirk on his face and cocky, too. And he won't miss the opportunity call you MY girl, MY love looking at Simon, making sure he heard 

this makes my toes curl oh my godddd this is so !!!

he cleans up well, that’s the first thing you noticed when toji picked you up from your dorm, your eyes greedily devouring the tight black button up he’s got on, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, showing off the muscles and veins that you’ve lovingly traced every time you two cuddle.

“like what y’see, kid?” toji asks, smiling softly, making you so, so breathless.

there’s something different about him – how, when he calls you petnames, they never mean anything past his affections for you. his devotion. toji teases and makes banter, but he’s never made you feel so small about yourself; has never made you doubt his feelings for you.

and it’s dizzying – to be toji’s sweetheart – but dear gods, don’t you deserve such reverence?

so, with a giggle, you say, “very much.”

-

toji and you walk in with his hand on the small of your back, his head tilted down as you two shared murmured words to each other. he’s barely looked away from you even when you two pass the threshold of your home, ignoring the barely-contained judging looks from the one man you had hoped you wouldn’t see tonight, simon.

you stumble to your feet, however, when simon began to move close, smiling ruefully in that way he always does when things aren’t going his way. toji steadies you, his voice gaining volume and strength—an obvious display of his interference.

“–might just have to eat you up right now, doll. yer dad don’t know we’re here yet, yeah?”

simon’s steps falter, his eyes going wide at having heard toji. toji tilts his head up, smirking, and your mouth goes dry, warmth filling up your cheeks now that the two men are posturing against each other.

.

(im so sorry i couldn’t really finish this one 🥹)

but this one was during that insane of a crossover of new bf toji vs dbf simon </3

speedrun but:

your dad is horrified at seeing your new boyfriend because that’s a whole dad you’re dating. what.

simon doesn’t offer his two cents because he’d be a hypocrite if he does, so he’s just checked out, and so happens to always be drinking wine when your dad turns to him like he’s asking for a back up.

toji is behaved. sure he’s got a hand on your lap and it keeps sliding up every time your dad looks away but he’s behaved. shit-eating grin aside.

simon sees the hand. simon also sees red.

he breaks his wine glass, and the wine drips from his clenched fist like blood.

it’s only toji’s hand squeezing your leg and putting pressure on it that stops you from lurching out of the table to help simon—what? old habits die hard.

simon excuses himself for the night and leaves.

toji says you did good. he means it even if you know that without toji’s hold, you would’ve sacrificed your dignity again for simon.

[fyodior]

forced feminisation with fedya :( he's so blushy an' nervous about showing off the frilly skirt you told him to try on ... poor baby ... the little lacy panties you made him put on to match are so strained against his dick and they already have a huge wet patch 'cuz the humiliation gets to him ... (´∧//ω//∧｀) when u pull the panties down and tease him for bein' so wet so u play with his pretty pussy so he can relieve himself :(...

uwaa... you can call his tip his puffy clit 'n slap it whenever he wants to go against u and not wear the pretty dresses you picked specifically for him :(..

- 🧸

RRRRESAAAAAAFGGFRRRRRRRR THIS IS. TGGGHHHHHJ THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I WAS THINKING IM GOING BONKERS

“such a pretty, pretty girl, aren’t you?” you coo when fyodor comes out in the frilly skirt and matching top you bought for him, with a little touch of makeup on and his hair pulled back. he looks absolutely adorable. a war is going on inside his head currently, both viscerally hating and obsessively adoring the way he looks like … a girl right now…..

he doesn’t respond at first, just ducks his head and plays with the hem of his pretty pink top. “not a girl,” he mumbles, making you pout. he’s hoping and praying you fight him on it - and luckily, you do.

“oh? you’re saying my pretty girl isn’t a girl?” you question, falling to your knees. the answer is right under that skirt. tugging the frills down, you reveal fyodor’s small cock and balls shoved somewhat unceremoniously into a pair of pink cotton panties with a little bow on the front. delicately, you pull his half hard dick out of the panties and give it a squeeze. “but look at your pretty pussy!”

“that’s n-not my pu-puss-” fyodor trembles, biting his fist. its unbearable and mortifying how much this turns him on, to be told he’s a cute girl with a fucking pussy. humiliating. he loves it.

“look how wet my pretty girl is,” you coo, spreading the precum that dribbles out of his tip with your thumb. and her adorable puffy clit, too. you give his “clit” (his tip) a delicate kiss and lick. his breath quickens, and a shaky hand comes to touch your hair, beckoning your mouth forward.

“please, please, suck my di-” you cut him off.

“suck your what, baby? hm?”

his face is BRIGHT red. poor fedya looks like he’s about to explode right then and there of shame and lust.

“s-su-” he groans. “my clit!” he finally whines. “suck my clit! eat me out! please!”

you break out into a shit eating grin, still on your knees in front of him. now that’s what you wanted to hear.

“now remember, cutie,” you start, licking his tip and fondling his balls. “girls can only wear skirts, and can only sit when they pee. no standing. promise me that, and i’ll eat you out.”

fuck. this is humiliating. “….. promise.”

[mothwingwritings]

Idk if you’re into omega verse but omg I just thought of it being applied to Yujiro and poor omega reader goddamn 😭 (I think I may have gone a little bit too far on this one ngl, also I’m half asleep so sorry for any issues..)

Nasty nasty Alpha Yujiro who takes advantage of poor little you. Who would have thought he’d ever encounter such a rare beauty? Omegas were practically extinct in the baki universe, the world full of hardened alphas made no room for the sweet soft omegas. And yet here you were against all odds.

From the moment he met you, he’d made the promise that he would never spread his seed through out the world.

Nay, he was going to hammer in his children into your fertile womb as you cried out in overstimulation. You would carry all of his offspring for the rest of your life. That was a promise.

While many of his past devoted lovers would have been flattered by his devotion, you were anything but.

Sure Yujiro would disappear on some days but no longer than a week.

But on the days he were in your house. It’d be a constant running away and fighting off the lustful touches of Yujiro.

The dreadful “Honey~ I’m home!~” had you cringing so hard as thick muscular arms surrounded your waist.

Having to take showers with the Ogre that always ended with you pressed up against the glass mirror as Yujiro crowded you against it.

Having your favorite clothes torn to shreds as he tried to make “love to you”.

Waking up in the middle of the night to see the humongous man deep in your guts as he ruthlessly pounded into you.

And when you went in heat…oh boy.

You’re horny 24/7 and you won’t fight back at all? Just lil ol you whimpering about how much it hurts and that you need something inside? You’d let the older man kiss you and cling onto him needily. His poor little omega!

Yeah, Yujiro loves your heats.

This man keeps a track record of when your heats are around the corner. It doesn’t matter if he’s in another country or across the globe the globe away from you. If he sees you have started your heat, he’s running like a madman with the nastiest smirk that has people running away screaming. They all thought he was out to murder someone (ya ur lil meow meow)

Out of spite you decide to hook up with some random beta when your heat starts up. Which immediately back fires when Yujiro has said man tied up as he watches you get plowed down by your real alpha.

“My little omega, have I neglected you so much that you seeked out some limp dick beta to satisfy you? I guess I’ll have to you more attention to keep you satisfied, huh?”

You know Yujiro is going to show you off. I mean, who wouldn’t?

He’s pulling up to the tournaments with you sitting on his shoulder clad in a thin bikini. Your looking away from the many lustful looks directed at you, all while Yujiro basks in the jealous looks he receives.

They all look so angry at him, but yet…too intimidated to muster the courage to say anything to him. Yes this was a fine idea.

He’s got you wearing a pretty diamond collar with the letters “Property of Ogre.”

Every time you both return from such fights, it didn’t matter if he came back angry or happy both were valid reasons to fuck you in the entrance your home. After that he would ravage you on any surface in the house.

He was going to get so many babies out of you.

Me reading this ask loool

You must have read my mind anon, I was just musing the other day on how I want to some day take a stab at writing an ABO fic and the Bakiverse would be perfect fodder for it. 😌

But God... Yujiro would be the worst fucking Alpha. That man could track you down from miles away, knowing where you are at all times should he need you. And he has such intricate knowledge on basically every aspect of you and your life that it goes beyond concerning, it's downright invasive. It takes no time at all for him to claim fuck you, giving you no time to really sus him out or get to know him before you've become irrevocably his. He's now your bonded partner, and you are not at all thrilled with that.

When yujiro comes to claim you he attacks you with such a bestial, feral intensity that you are afraid one day your body won't be able to take the abuse he inflicts on it, giving you serious concerns over whether you will survive the mating process. You got lucky the first time, but what about in the future? How many pups does he plan to pump inside of you? The thought keeps you up at night. You don't even want to parent his offspring, let alone be demoted to his breeding stock to be fucked full again and again and again. You would have chosen ANY alpha other than Yujiro, but now this was your lot in life-forced to not only be his mate, but bear his children, creating new versions of this monster to roam the planet. Would they grow up to be like their father, or would you have any hope of raising them to be decent, loving people?

Also, I feel like your body will just constantly be marked up everywhere. His mating bites don't stop at the scent glands, and you usually end up looking like you just left a 12 round boxing match on the losing side instead of a mating session with your alpha. :(

And when you are in heat its the absolute fucking worst. Lusting after Yurjiro, your entire body aching for him to desecrate and destroy you, your insides burning white hot for his touch. Only your alpha can cure you of this all consuming sickness that plagues you, and you turn into a whiny blubbery mess when Yujiro is around, pleading and begging for him to claim you. It's absolutely dreadful how much you yearn for such a barbaric man, and each and every time you are disgusted with how easily you give in to him. You just roll over and become his docile little fuck mate, turned into a wanton, lusting mess from just catching his scent alone. You loath him as much as you need him, and words cannot describe the amount of hate you hold in your heart for the man that turned you into this pathetic shell of who you once were.

[sendpseuds]

Yes runaway romba very self explanatory but just for the audience what does that mean.

Almost every weekday for the past eight years, Obi-Wan Kenobi has walked the same route to work. It’s not far, a little over a mile, though everyone else at the firm seems to think he’s insane for making the daily trek in a full suit.

It’s peaceful, the stroll through quiet neighborhoods and tree lines streets, the bustle of his favorite cafe and their perfect London fog latte, the fresh air and sound of songbirds.

More often than not the walk is uneventful, sometimes he doesn’t even see another person, but there has been the occasional note worthy trek — the time he witnessed a hit and run and needed to stay to speak with the police, the time he pulled a kitten out of a tree, the time he showed up to the office soaking wet after offering his umbrella to a little old lady — but Obi-Wan has never encountered anything quite like this.

The moment he’d turned onto Temple Street he saw it.

A roomba.

A rogue robot vacuum rolling down the street far faster than Obi-Wan has ever seen one of these mechanical maids move, especially over the uneven terrain on the side walk.

“Well, hold on a moment little fellow,” Obi-Wan says as if the droid can hear him, hastening his steps to catch up, “What are you doing out here?”

The closer he gets, the faster little thing moves but it only takes a block to catch up, grabbing the roomba firmly and lifting it off the ground.

Immediately, alarms begin to pour from the disk shaped robot, beeping and screaming, its wheels whirring faster like it’s trying to escape.

“Calm down,” Obi-Wan exclaims nonsensically, tightening his grip and trying to hold on, “I’m trying to help! I’m trying to get you home.”

That seems to soothe the little bot somewhat, the blaring sounds quieting to a series of slightly annoyed sounding chirps and beeps.

“There we are,” Obi-Wan laughs, turning the vacuum over in his hands as is to make sure the droid hadn’t injured itself, “That’s much better don’t you—“

Then he notices it.

A strip of duct tape stuck to the roomba’s undercarriage with a note scribbled in sharpie—

If found, please return to Anakin Skywalker

[part two]

[acetier]

Does torin have any backstory from before he was resurrected by grace? Possibly pertaining to his class as a confessor?

He does! Lore dump below the cut:

Torin was born outside of the Lands Between. His parents died when he was young, so he was taken in by the church and raised on the teachings of the Two Fingers. He manages to live a decent life into young adulthood before he's seriously wounded when the church is raided by enemies of the Two Fingers and the Golden Order. Although the initial wound doesn't kill him, he lingers painfully for days before finally succumbing to infection. He's resurrected by grace and the church immediately begins training him to be a confessor. After a few years in training, the church sends him to the Lands Between to hunt down those who have strayed from grace.

Nowadays, he prefers not to speak of his old life as his faith in the Golden Order and the Two Fingers has become a bitter memory.

bonus torin before The Fuckening:

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

THOUGHTS ON HAPEPHOBIA (fear of touch) READER??

GOJO SATORU .

because of his own unique relationship with touch, i think he’d be a perfect fit for this kind of reader <333 gojo may have a craving for it, but also a deeply rooted fear; his infinity is a soothing blanket that shields him from the world, and i think he’s a lot more dependent on it than he lets on. so, more than anything, he’d be extremely understanding of your fear!!! he doesn’t push for a reason, doesn’t tease you (he does. but just a little. never more than what you’re entirely comfortable with!), just accepts it and moves on. makes sure to never, ever touch you, or make you feel unsafe in his presence. he’s very observant and attentive in general so i think he’d be a great partner for someone with haphephobia <3

and again; gojo gets it!!! touch can be terrifying!!!! so it’s probably a great relief for him too. i think he struggles with intimate touches immensely, in the beginning of a relationship. if the touching isn’t entirely casual or entirely on his terms, it feels so foreign and unconquerable. you show each other that affection and trust can be shown in ways other than physical contact, that it doesn’t change how much you care for one another.

i do also wanna add that if you ever feel comfortable starting a treatment plan for your phobia, he’s with you every step of the way :3 walks you to your appointments and even joins you if you need him to, he’ll also be more than willing to help out if you decide on some form of exposure therapy. just working on making you feel safe, slowly building you up towards even a single tender touch. you can tell that he’s a little scared, too, even if he really doesn’t show it — and i think that helps.

buuuut either way, he loves you and accepts you for who you are <333 no matter what. he’ll be right by your side, just grazing the back of your shirt with his fingers so that his infinity extends to you, and you can walk around with no fear of being touched.

[fatuismooches]

omg omg how would fragile reader use foxtorre in gameplay? idk why the first thing i thought of is reader throwing it at their enemies but they wouldnt do that 😭 im suddenly thinking how their gameplay would be like, their vision, their idles, etc... IF YOU COULD PLEASE MAKE VOICELINES FOR THEM I THINK IT WOULD BE COOL

Fragile reader throws the creature onto the field to do the work for them! Depending on whether their skill is held or tapped, Foxttore will summon multiple little Puffttores that will attack enemies to heal the team or do damage, based on reader’s current HP. Using the skill also consumes a set amount of fragile reader's HP. But using their burst will let them recover HP, as they will steal a certain percentage of HP from their fellow party members. All they want to be is healthy, they can be a little selfish, no? But fragile reader isn’t that mean, they’ll grant the party members who they stole HP from a random buff (ATK, crit rate/dmg, EM, etc) so they can sit back and relax as the others fight for them. And no, they won’t steal HP from Dottore or another Harbinger on the team, that’s their beloved and their friends after all! But they can’t do elemental reactions, they don’t want that horrid thing from Celestia and even if they got one they would refuse to use it. (But I still have hope another element will be added, I cannot see Dottore using a Vision HE BETTER NOT he’s stronger than that 😞)

Their idles include pulling out Foxttore and squeezing it really tightly, and then they suddenly pause for a few seconds as they feel something fuzzy moving inside of their shirt... and then a few small Puffttores jump out of their clothes making them laugh :) Another one, i imagine they carry around a small bag to hold their necessary items (such as medication) but also to bring around a scrapbook they've made with all their memories. Lots of photos and journal entries spanning many years. They pull it out and flip through it, before sighing almost sadly and putting it away again. Their BIS weapon is the same one from centuries ago, Dottore had preserved it for all those years so they could use it once again (not really though because they wobble all over the place if you use their normal attacks)

Hello: "I am [Name]. I doubt I'll be much help to you, but I'm here now. By the way, I won't do anything I don't want to. If you have a problem with that, you can take it up with Dottore."

About the Archons: "... Do not mention them in front of me... it makes me sick to my stomach, thinking about the divine. However, there is one exception - the Tsaritsa of course. She is truly the epitome of what a God should be, benevolent and kind. I may not be able to help much, but I will support her until the end. When you meet her, Traveler, I hope you will understand her goals."

About the Illness: "Ah, my sickness... it has plagued me for countless years, laying a horrible curse upon my body and mind. It's... it's been quite difficult sometimes... er, forgive me. It's hard to speak about."

"Oh... to be honest, Paimon always thought you were faking it for the Fatui's goals to some extent."

"... this is why I only confide in Dottore."

About Dottore: "My one and only... words cannot express my tenderness and love toward him. Not once has he given up on me, despite the times I've given up on myself. And he has always taken care of me, not once faltering in over four hundred years. I- I don't know what to do sometimes when faced with that information. I wish I could be... less of a burden on him... *sigh*"

About the Akademiya: "Say, does anything good come out of that school anymore? Hm? You say a brilliant mage graduated from there and is now a librarian? Well, good for her. Who would want to be associated with them anyway? And there's also a doctor who's very sick, searching for the answer to immortality? Well now... how interesting."

About the Past: "You wish to know about my past? Well, there's not too much to say. I was a regular student in the Akademiya before I met Dottore, and we fell in love... we did many things together before I... It's not like it matters anymore, being the way I am now..."

Chat - The Body: “One’s body is extremely important, yet many take it for granted. Please, make sure to treasure and love your body. It does more for you than you could ever imagine.”

Chat - Walks: "I love taking walks. It seems so normal to you but, it brings me great happiness. Especially now... I have not felt the sun caress my body or the soft breeze sweep through my hair for a long, long time. Hm? I don't mind if you come with, but... Dottore will be joining me shortly. Would you like to see him? No? Hehe."

When it Rains: "Oh no... do you have an umbrella? Dottore's going to- a-achoo!- get mad at me for not taking care of myself properly..."

Likes - Dancing: "O-oh. You saw me just now? I was just... practicing. I'm not very good at it, but dancing with Dottore as he twirls me around makes me... happy. I just need to stop tripping and falling over his feet all the time."

Nahida - About You: "You've met the Doctor's spouse? Please, would you enlighten me about them some more? I have always been extremely curious about the kind of person who would capture his attention. Hmm... I see. Still sick, are they? Perhaps Dottore sees something in them that the rest of us cannot. Though, I have to commend their spirit. Being able to wake up every day and face what's in front of them while being afflicted with such a condition... takes a strong will."

[thechibilitwick]

If you throw the shidoulings against the wall will they bounce?

they would indeed

[made-my-peace-with-all-the-bad]

shhhh same anon from last night i love a good yap sesh.

so anyway speaking of body language and acting-when darry is coming over to talk to Pony in GGAH, Brody has been fully like turning his body away when he sees Darry approaching, and then leaning up against the car in such a nonchalant, "I'm 14 and my older brother can't tell me what to do" way that is literally so perfect. and then in RITFR there's a slow simmering of Pony's anger that leads up to the explosion right before the slap, where Brody will like sprawl in the chair with his head leaning back and this look of "jesus darrel, lay off me for ONCE" on his face, and then as Darry keeps going he leans forward with his head in his hands and his fingers on his temples like he has a headache, and you can just FEEL that the tension is going to boil over right up until it does

and then in FAFT Brody's Pony like leans towards Johnny with his entire body when Johnny is singing his verse about reading stories and having a garden with this open look of admiration on his face that slowly melts into desperate longing when he reaches "ponyboy you're just a dreamer"

anyway.

i love brody grant's ponyboy that's all i have to say about that LOL

Anon you do not know the joy I got finding out you sent another analysis!!

I definitely think Brody does an absolutely amazing job at fully embodying a fourteen year old, with both the angst and attitude that most fourteen year olds have. And yes! The way he acts at the beginning of RITFR is so good and the way Darry (I saw Brent so I’m not sure about Dan/Victor/JPC) responds in a way that just kind of shows he’s so exhausted and done with Pony’s snarky responses is also really incredible.

And don’t even get me started on FAFT and the way Brody as Ponyboy does that entire song because I’m obsessed!! The way he leans in to show his excitement of their dreams then pulls back at the reality of his situation is absolutely insane and I love that choice!!