#all the time not testing positive but y'know

[tjerra14]

hm. likely got exposed to Covid earlier this week and feeling off now, I don't like this

[tsuyalovebot]

xia yi zhou / caleb x reader.

cw. untitled drabble (>500 words, one sitting — ignore any typos). sexually explicit content, mdni / ageless blogs dni. mc=reader. i'm still writing a long caleb piece, so please be patient with me. (_ _ ||| )

a part of my brain matter was taken away when i incorporated the position change of doggy -> prone bone in you're a catch 22.

genuinely. i think caleb hitting it from the back is a primal need that scratches the underside of one's brain so well. it's the pent-up nature of it, and the lack of tact that makes it so primal.

but the big, sentimental idiot who's spent the better part of his life craving your existence also loves intercourse in positions where he can see you. that physical connection and proximity is what cements that closeness to you. he grounds himself in the fact that your bodily warmth is proof of this all being real.

this man has you in a lotus position on evenings when he's craving you, his hands on your waist as he's whispering "i love you"s against your neck. more often than not, he has to leave bright and early the next day, so he makes sure to get his fill of you — not that you mind.

missionary is spent having staring contests where you inevitably tap out, hitting at his arms and back when he stifles his laughter against your collarbone because the one time he wins a staring contest is when he's balls deep inside of you.

he will never let you have peace when you're riding him, demanding you to keep those eyes on him otherwise he'll make you finish on your own while he touches himself in front of you.

all in all, this man is versatile.

you're marveling at your flexibility one day, eyeing the arch in your back when you mimic it in the mirror. there was nothing else behind the gesture, simply testing the bounds of your experience. maybe there were some perks to getting folded and kneaded like pretzel dough on the nightly.

so engrossed in your little experiment, you hadn't noticed caleb in the bathroom doorframe watching you, amused. you greet him when he slides into the space behind you, rubbing his tousled hair as he drapes himself over your body.

"mornin' to you too. need some help?"

you shake your head, explain your situation as his arms snake around you, his palms playing with his shirt that you wore. there's a subtle sway to how he hugs you close, his lips comfortably pressed to your hair. his eyes still hazy with slumber that lingers at the crinkled edges, a smile on his mouth.

"told you spending time together has its perks. and, y'know," he starts, mischief creeping into his tone. "we never tried it in front of a mirror before."

he's kissing along your shoulder before you can reply, and his fingers squeeze between your thighs so easily that you can't argue about it being too early either.

versatile — but you will never know peace after the first time he worships you like a deity, all the while pressing you into the sheets to keep you grounded with a mere mortal like him.

[frostedsugarcookiehearts]

> hold me close and say you care , because i'm in love with your brown hair !!

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ happy virtual life, happy wife

"hey, sweet'art, guess how much the croissant costs at that bougie-ass place down the street—" schlatt chuckled as the door opened with a familiar creeeak! "toots?" he paused, voice growing more confused until he poked his head into your bedroom.

schlatt and you mutually agreed, since you were both introverted people, sometimes you needed your own space— so a compromise appeared— you each get your own bedroom! (however, schlatt often just slept in your room, which kinda ruined the point of the agreement)

there you were, curled up in those rose-print sheets, your room pitch black as you swung your legs back and forth, giggling to yourself like you were doing something sneaky. schlatt, ever-the-graceful, tip-toed behind you and peered over your shoulder.

your computer screen was lit up by the sims 4 logo. there were two sims on your screen, a short girl and a tall boy with brown hair and a tiny mustach—

"hey, 's that me?" a lopsided grin grew on schlatt's face as you shrieked, immediately closing your laptop.

stammering and chuckling nervously, you sat up against the headboard, adjusting your hair. "heyy, honey, wow. you're home, er, early." you gulped. smooth, merry.

schlatt fondly rolled his eyes, taking a seat next to her as his gangly legs dangled off the edge of the bed, lazily resting an arm on your shoulder. "y'know, most guys gotta worry about their girlfriend cheatin' on 'em. so, c'mon, whatever you're doin' on there can't be that bad, right?"

"right," you echoed as schlatt leaned towards your cheek, about to kiss you when he grabbed your laptop and stood up as you frantically squealed for him to not open it.

schlatt opened your laptop with his left hand, rubbing the back of his neck with the other. "sorry for pullin' a fast one on ya, toots, but the suspense is killin' me."

he opened your laptop to see a family named the schlatts. two sim-replicas of you and schlatt sat in their shared house with three kids, in a huge mansion in a beautiful town. the kids all had names, their own rooms, and you guys had three dogs and four cats. "jeez, it's like a barnyard in 'ere," schlatt muttered, but he was fighting a huge smile.

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ playing gamer bf bingo

schlatt begrudgingly accepted tommy's request for a video— "minecraft's funniest reality cooking show", where tommy gathered a random group of youtubers and pitted them against each other survivor-style. schlatt was hesitant, because he was supposed to go out with you today, but you insisted that he do the video instead. you two could always go out tomorrow!

as a compromise, schlatt made you sit on the comfy little couch he had positioned behind his gaming setup, so he could at least be near you. in turn, you decided to test a little experiment.

you kept seeing this tiktok trend of girls doing "COD bingo" with their gamer boyfriends, so you decided to make your own— schlatt bingo. holding your knees to your chest, you propped up your little piece of paper and got all giddy every time you got to cross something off.

"fuck!" he yelled, eliciting a quiet giggle from you as you crossed off your free space and the 'fuck' space at the same time.

after you were just one little space away from bingo, schlatt caught on to your periodic giggles and whipped his head around, letting his headphones pool around his neck. "toots, whatcha laughin' at? is it my jokes?" he grinned, staring at you with mild confusion and equal parts fondness.

"shh, i'm winning bingo right now. go back to your little game."

schlatt was about to respond with "what the fuck?" but you put a finger up, shushing him effectively. he turned around and heard a scream of triumph behind him as he finally screamed at tommy, "fuck you, bitch!"

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ war & peace

old habits die hard. specifically, the old habit of schlatt playing first-person shooter games with voicechat on (a combination worse than fire and oil). schlatt didn't have his headset on because the lobby seemed pretty mellow, save for the occasional comment or something.

you were sat on his lap, reading a book with your legs dangling over the armrest of the chair, eyes fluttering shut slowly at every new word you read.

it was all peaceful, calm— until it wasn't. a kid with a squeaky, pre-pubescent voice joined the lobby and made it his mission to ruin everyone's day.

schlatt used to be that kid back in the day, so he presumed if he ignored the teen long enough that he would back off and realize he wasn't funny. but he didn't. he could deal with that, though.

the last straw was that the kid scared you— he shrieked into the mic and you jumped, letting out a squeal of terror.

schlatt grabbed his mic instantly. "ay, pipsqueak. shut the fuck up, because you just woke up my girl, and i swear to god if i have to hear your grating, annoying-ass voice again i will crawl through your fucking ipad screen and beat your goddamn ass."

the lobby was eerily quiet after that, and the silence lulled you to sleep. schlatt kissed your forehead. all was good in the world!

i'm alive !! 3 in one post as a sorry (and crawling back into my schlatt era... question mark?) tomodachi icons: @22even

[oncasette]

FANGTASIA. send in a character from my guide + one of the prompts below for a drabble!

eddie munson + “one is on the other's lap, holding their face between their hands, kissing them and instantly forgetting everything else in the room with them,” shy!reader.

There's some random movie on the tv. A b-flick running on late night television, something neither you nor Eddie had much desire in watching in the first place that offered just enough background noise to keep the two of you satiated. It was on more as an excuse to stay at Eddie's trailer for just a little bit longer.

"One more?" you'd asked quietly, shuffling your fingers around in your lap.

Eddie's fingers are currently submerged in your hair. Or, one is. The other is gripping the back of your thigh quite tightly, keeping you balanced across his lap.

You hadn't initially chosen this position. In fact, you'd spent most of the evening perched at the far end of the couch, your feet neatly tucked up beneath you with a quilt wrapped around your shoulders. No, sitting in Eddie's lap had been entirely his doing. Somewhere around the halfway point of the second movie, Eddie tugged you all the way across the couch and directly over his thighs. You're sure your face was red hot to the touch.

His hands gently trail down until they're cupping your cheeks, his kisses slowing into languid, syrupy licks into your mouth.

"So pretty," he mumbles against your lips. A flustered sigh transfers from your mouth to his. A whimper follows, Eddie's teeth grazing your bottom lip. "Could do this all day, y'know that?"

"Eds," you whine. You think you might explode if you don't catch your breath soon. Or melt. Probably melt. "The movie?"

"Who cares about the movie," he huffs. "'s not like they're testing us on it afterwards."

You press a hand to his chest, eyes wide and glossy as your chest heaves. The newly acquired oxygen feels nice in your lungs. He offers up one of those dopey grins. You catch the way his eyes scan your face, his lips puffy and wet from the assault.

"Catching your breath?" he asks as a gentle hand cards over your spine. You nod. You're not sure your brain is doing much to produce functioning thoughts at the moment. "It's okay, baby. Take your time."

And you do, nodding again when you've steadied your breathing to signal to Eddie that you're ready to kiss him again. Maybe one day you'd be the one leaning in. For now, you're more than happy to let him lead the way.

[strawbrryvyy]

im sorry but seunghan seems like the biggest bully in bed. the type to watch you squirm when hes overstimulating you and deadass laugh at your face. or maybe you are out in dinner. he makes you put up a vibrator in you and he just plays with it all the time and he gets a rise out of watching you keep it together, grinning at you

like having him as your bf is nice. he is sweet and gentlemanly but then it comes with the price of having to play along with his really sick but VERY FUN games

anon wtf... I see Seunghan as a sweetheart y'know outside the bedroom, like he's always holding the door open type. Now what if this all just to butter you up for what he wants to do to you at the end of the night.

"han-ngh ah!" your breathless moans echo, bouncing from each wall inside your car, as you feel him go deeper and deeper. Saliva stringing from your mouth as you opened it to let out another whimper when he thrusted again.

"fuck....you ...god y-your s-such a slut...fuck" he whispers as he pounds inside of you, the position he had you in would make your legs ache for days, but his vile words would make your ears ring with a sweet harmony for weeks after.

"ah ah....s-sl-low...ngh " Your cries were the last thing on seunghans mind as his hand found hits way to your clit, rubbing it, smiling from how swollen it felt.

His head fell back "fuck....shut the fuck up..."He breathed out a sigh of pleasure as he breathed in the aroma of sex swirling in the car.

"fuck you feel so good " he said as he felt the release of pleasure from his cock melt inside you

He should definately test you more infront of his friends.

[invinciblevariant]

my baby , my baby ...

prompt ; distress call . synopsis ; maverick is out on patrol with mark when he receives a frantic call from his partner . pairing ; sinister mark ( referred to as malachi ) x mohawk mark ( referred to as maverick ) . trigger / content warnings ; mpreg , pregnancy loss .

quick disclaimer ; i don't really know anything about the loss of a pregnancy except what i've heard about on tiktok and researched a little bit , so if i get anything wrong , please don't hesitate to inform me politely .

maverick has to admit that as much as he misses his original dimension , getting stuck in this earth and being given a second chance actually feels ... good . mark had been hesitant at first to introduce him and the others to his own little crew of friends and family , which was understandable since , y'know , they all tried to destroy earth and ruin his reputation a mere seven months ago , but surprisingly , both of them found it easy as hell .

almost all of them reminded maverick of his own versions of these people back home ( most notably eve and rex ) , but over time , they grew to accept the others as their own , especially since they all could stop introducing themselves as 'mark from a diffeerent dimension' and actually have some semblance of a unique identity thanks to cecil's brilliant idea of renaming all of them .

it took some time to get adjusted and actually start helping in fixing the very world they'd destroyed , but eventually , with the help of the superheroes ( most of whom became slowly accustomed to these variations of invincible living among them ) , it got done pretty quickly . maverick , along with the others , are now living normally in this world .

almost all of them stopped wearing their suits 24/7 , instead opting for more casual clothing when not doing superhero work much like mark . maverick even convinced mark to let him get some cool piercings on his lips , ears , eyebrow , and nose to stand out a bit more . of course , to further stand out , his style was primarily a goth-style look with mostly blacks and dark blues , much like his costume .

to absolutely no one's surprise at this point , some of them started dating . mason (one of the invincibles who wore no mask) started going steady with a guy who went to upstate university (and just so happened to look very much like william) , mercury (the invincible who previously wore viltrumite attire but without the mustache) and maxwell (the invincible with long hair) ended up together , and maverick began dating malachi (the invincible who everyone used to refer to as 'sinister invincible' or 'sinister mark' , the one with the cape who brutally and ruthlessly murdered angstrom's son in his dimension) .

the former villain has to admit , though , that this new life , this new chapter ? it's ... thrilling . at first , it was admittedly scary to just dive into a new life , a new identity , and a new relationship (especially with a guy , but hey , maverick ain't complaining as long as he and his partner fuck every once in a while , and boy , does malachi deliver on that) , but over time , it became easier to settle down .

hell , cecil even helped them all get places of their own , with mason and his boyfriend being able to stay in the same dorm (of course mason had to enroll himself into college with mark and william's help , deciding on a degree in astronomy) , max and mercury living in a studio apartment in downtown chicago , and maverick and malachi settled comfortably in a two-story house near mark's place (which actually made meeting up with mark to do their scheduled patrols much easier) .

it was around this time that malachi learned that his viltrumite biology allowed him to carry a baby , so he and maverick decided shortly after to stop using condoms when they have sex . it took a couple tries , but eventually , they both were overjoyed when the pregnancy test showed a positive result .

since then , malachi has been more strict to at least try and stick to a ... healthier diet that didn't consist of human flesh , but occasionally , the cravings were too overpowering and he couldn't help himself .

little do they both know that this will lead to a tragic consequence that they'll have to come to terms with ...

" c'mon , man , keep up ! you're going to miss anybody that may need help ! "

maverick rolls his eyes at mark's demand as he puts his phone in his pocket and zips it up , flying faster to catch up to mark . the sun is starting to rise , and he can't help but marvel at the beauty ...

" maverick ! seriously ?! "

" jesus christ , marky , calm the fuck down ! " it's mark's turn to roll his eyes at the nickname that his variant gave him a while back . " not like there's much of anything going on this early . "

" still , you wanna be diligent and focused , just in case . " mark then mutters under his breath , " jesus , you're just like oliver sometimes ... "

maverick groans and switches his position so his back is facing the earth , soon gazing up at the sky that is still kind of dark .

his phone soon rings in his pocket with the familiar ringtone he set specifically for malachi , and mark is about to snap at him again , but maverick holds a finger up to silence him as he answers it .

" hey , sexy , " he greets , mark groaning in exhaustion next to him as he hears that , " what's up ? did you need—"

" come home , " malachi's voice is unusually shaky , almost as if he's trying not to cry , " please ... i need you here ... "

" hey , " maverick's voice takes on a softer , gentler tone as he halts his flying , " you okay , kai ? "

" just come the hell home , maverick !!! please !!! "

" go , " mark says to him , " i'll see if max or mason can help patrol . "

maverick nods and gives him a small smile before turning and heading back home .

the scream of agony and sound of something breaking before the line goes dead makes his heart drop into his stomach , and he propels himself with a sonic boom , making his flight faster .

maverick's landing is a bit rough as he descends in their front yard , but his thoughts aren't on how the lawn looks when he's nearly breaking the front door off its hinges and rushing upstairs .

his thoughts are only on malachi and what might have happened . however , he's in for a shock as he enters their bathroom , this door already hanging off of the top hinge .

malachi is at the sink , fingers gripping the edge of the marble countertop so hard that his knuckles are turning pale . the mirror is shattered , bits of glass decorating the counter , sink , and floor , and his cell phone is also shattered into pieces at his feet . he's silently crying now , head hung low and tears flowing quickly down his cheeks as his shoulders shake and his breaths come in shudders and harsh gasps .

before addressing his partner , maverick takes a glance around the rest of the bathroom , which looks like a violent tornado ripped through it . however , there's one thing about it that makes his eyes widen in horror and then fill with tears as he draws in a sharp inhale ...

... the menacingly large puddle of blood in front of the toilet . maverick's eyes stay glued to it for what feels like hours before he finds the strength to tear theem away and instead look at his partner .

" ... kai ? "

" ... "

" hey . " he walks over to him as if he's approaching a frightened deer , his fingers cautiously brushing against his shoulder . " baby , i'm here . i'm home . i came as fast as i—"

malachi quickly grabs onto his boyfriend , the wails that penetrate the silence echoing off the walls , and maverick's heart just shatters .

" i'm right here , " he whispers , voice trembling as he himself tries desperately not to just break down . his eyes betray him in that moment , though , as tears begin to run down his face .

there's a buzz coming from his jeans pocket , indicating an incoming text (most likely from mark or cecil) , but he ignores it as he carries malachi over to the bed , feeling his boyfrieend's frame shaking as he lets out wail after wail .

they stay like that for the next few hours , maverick rocking malachi comfortingly , until the sun sets and enshrouds their bedroom in darkness , the only light coming from the moon outside their window , and they both fall asleep restlessly in each other's arms .

author's notes : i hope you guys enjoyed (and your hearts broke like mine did when i wrote this) . this is not the first idea i had for this prompt , but it was too heart-wrenching not to write about . the original idea of sinister mark having a miscarriage goes to @gatorbites-imagines (gotta give credit where it's rightfully due ♡) !

[cerastes]

Do you think at some point early on in Arknights the intent was to be a buildup to a more critical look at Rhodes as more morally grey than it first appears? Because when I started the game I was so sure that's where it was going. Popukar probably being one of the first characters you get, the idea of SWEEP, the understanding I had at the time of darknights doctor and y'know, the villains being who they are. I just thought it would be more of a thing.

I don't think necessarily, I think the intent was always to posit Rhodes Island as "as good as you can get while still being a relatively major power but not quite as big or resourceful as a state". I do think it bears mentioning that child soldiers/children and teenagers with a job as a concept don't seem to really carry a stigma as they do in the real world: The only real times in which these are painted in negative lights are when the conditions or results of these decisions end up in something negative:

Popukar was clearly indentured labor at the lumberyard. The part that's condemned is that she was miserable and practically a slave, not really that she was working per se, and she's given a job by RI later after Kal'tsit personally gets her out of there.

Frostleaf's being a child soldier even before Rhodes Island isn't really all that condemned, the effects it had on her psyche is.

Absinthe, just orphaned, is made a Rhodes Island Operator. This notion isn't rejected or truly contested, no more than "maybe we can send her somewhere proper for care". Hell, all the Ursus kids also get made into Operators.

Even outside of this, we hire children frequently: Bubble, Suzuran, Shamare, you name it. Sure, each has a context, especially Shamare who is Fucking Haunted, but the matter of the fact is that Rhodes Island isn't just housing them, it's also showing no real qualms with them taking the Operator Testing Battery and, if they succeed, hiring them. It's mentioned several times that Rhodes Island has many non-combat roles -- Angelina used to be a Messenger for Rhodes Island before taking the Operator test, Orchid was offered a desk job at Rhodes Island initially, and Weedy was a Rhodes Island researcher who explicitly worked out and trained so she could pass the physical components of the test -- but there's no real turn of eyes when a child says mmmm yeah I'll do the Battlefield Supporter Battery please, thank you.

Amiya is, you know, the CEO of Rhodes Island, and that IS pointed out in a "damn, fucked up" way, but what's being lamented is not her having a job, it's her having a BIG difficult job. I think no one would bat an eye if Amiya was a regular Operator under Theresa instead (granted, because she's the owner's daughter, but even without that link).

These are some examples of in-universe logic regarding the whole child soldier and kid with a job. I'd wager it's because life expectancy in Terra is pretty damn low from what we've gathered: Armed conflict, crime, Catastrophes, Oripathy, there's plenty of ways to kick the bucket in Terra, much like it was in Ye Olde Ages in real life, which is coincidentally an era in which by 16 you already were an adult and were expected to start having adult responsibilities.

Pre-Amnesia Doctor was definitely not a stellar person but it's always understood that they weren't bad as much as broken: Scout put it best that it broke his heart to have seen this kind educator and fun, loving individual become a heartless tactician. Even when described this way, though, it wasn't like Doc became this Brooding Evil Mass, it's still mentioned plenty that they were pretty beloved by most people and a person they liked being friends with -- Ace, Scout, and Amiya all corroborate this, and in flashbacks, you have Theresa being pretty warm with Doc -- but if you were a footsoldier, Doctor was probably your worst nightmare because you were disposable -- W, Ines, Hoederer and Flamebringer can tell you as much -- so we had less a villain or a vile individual and more a broken individual who was remolded into someone that could withstand the immense psychological pressure that came with having their role. That's not to sanitize pre-amn Doctor, it's to echo the game's own words on them as per the characters in the setting that knew them from back then, and who held both positive and negative opinions on them.

Looking at all of these from an in-universe lens, they all have coherent in-universe explanations. I also think they would have foreshadowed any sort of Rhodes Island Insiduous Vileness with characters or actions by now: Less than stellar, antagonistic high command, dubious orders to do some vile stuff, other such things. The closest we get to this is Kal'tsit hating Doctor's guts, but also Kal'tsit is a really good person and her hatred of Doctor stems from her knowing them pre-amnesia, seeing how that happened, and what Doc did in those times, particularly one big event that's pretty lore relevant.

You may have noticed the elephant in the room [SPOILERS FOR PEOPLE NOT DONE WITH THE REUNION ARC YET]: I didn't address the enemy part yet. That's because that's the part that I still have some conflicted feelings over: The real enemy, in the end, isn't Reunion's ideals -- which are shared with Rhodes Island -- but rather it's what Reunion has become, a false flag operation for the Ursus Empire to justify a war. On one hand, I like that, on the other, I do think it's something that should've been more graciously hinted at in the very early chapters, because in those very early chapters, you REALLY are rent-a-cops in essence, putting down the people you set out to help. Of course, it's not that simple and there's a nuance as to why and the business dealings and all that, but given the relative simplicity and pace of the early chapters, it really is easy to see it come across that way.

It does, however, ring consistent with what we were previously talking about, though: The essence of, more than the act or thing in itself. Or, in other words, in Terra, the onus of things seem to be placed on the result or context surrounding something more than that something in itself: Child soldiers are fine, unhappy and in-risk child soldiers are not. Teenagers with jobs are fine, teenagers with huge stressful jobs way out of their league are not. Revolutionary movements are fine, revolutionary movements with civilian casualties are not. And so on. There is DEFINITELY commentary that can be had about this, mind you, but that can be for another post in another blog.

With this in mind, I go back to what was first said in this post, I think the idea was always to posit Rhodes Island as "as good as you can get while still being a relatively major power but not quite as big or resourceful as a state".

[onlyrains]

:: h&l boys being with their drunk s/o for the first time ::

pairings: fujio hanaoka, tsukasa takajo, yosuke todoroki, yuken odajima, yasushi nishikawa x fem reader

FUJIO ✧.*

it warmed his heart seeing you made a fond friendship with all his friends. you were new yet so significantly important to his life so of course he wanted you to get along with all his people and now you dis it so naturally. everyone liked you to the point you were get comfortable so quickly while chatting and drinking alcohol with them. fujio didn't know you can drink so tonight he was quieter than usual to watch you got tipsy while actively interacting with his childhood friends because it's too fascinating to him.

“fujio…” you turned to him with your flushed red cheeks.

“yes?” he responded.

you didn't answered right away. you were focus on his face then a hand landed smoothly on the back of his neck. “i'm happy with you.”

he beamed. he didn't know how to respond to that so he just look at you with a surprise look while his heart was ready to blown up.

“i want to stay here all night but why's my head so dizzy?” you placed your head on your palm to stay still. your other hand playing with his ear absentmindedly.

he finally replied with a chuckle. “you can't stay here all night. let's go home, it's already late.”

“but you haven't drink a bit?” you protested, handing a glass of beer to your boyfriend.

he squeezed your cheek excitedly. “i'm good.” he said giggly. you felt your head keep spinning then your forehead fall perfectly on his shoulder, inviting a laughter from madoka. “GIRL, YOU LOSE!!! FUJIO YOUR GIRLFRIEND JUST LOST!!!” she said extremely drunk.

fujio sighed to the rest of the guys. “i'm going.” he said before placing you on his back, ready to take you home.

TSUKASA ✧.*

“you drink too much.” he warned you. you glanced at him with disapproval and a pout on your lips.

“i'm fine.” you replied while lying on your stomach, eyes back on the papers in front of you.

“but you have a pre-test tomorrow,”

you laughed, “this is my pre-test y'know.” then continue to take a sip of your drink to accompany you studying tonight.

he copied your position. “you could just ask me then drink these cans.” tsukasa ran his fingers through your hair softly.

you flipped your body to lay on your back then you covered your face with both of your hands. he could still hear you sobbing beside him. “why can't i go through this test peacefully? why can't my head absorb things easily like most of people do? why i feel like i know nothing about these things? why…” you started to ramble then looked at him with so much anger on your face.

he knew you so frustrated lately, that's why he decided to come to your house then he found you barely sober on the floor with papers and beer cans everywhere. it was the first time he saw you cried and drunk. too surprising to him to process.

he helped you sit then he started to rub your back in up-down motion. “cry. let it out.” he said. in a split second he could feel his body being pulled in and you cried drunkly on his neck, hugging him tightly.

“thank you,” you said. he nodded while patting your hair and back. “anything for you. just ask me if you need anything.”

silence.

he felt your breating evenly which meant you were asleep. “hey?” he called.

“you're body is so sweet-scented, it's comfy.” oh, you may regret this tomorrow because it was completely not you at all.

tsukasa chuckled. “okay, then.”

TODOROKI ✧.*

he was hanging out with you and his oya friend. when he received a call from his parent that he needed to handle a few things for a bit. “you can go. i'm fine here, really. they are my friends too.” you tried your best to convince him that you were okay with fujio, nakagoshi, yasushi, kiyoshi, tsuji, and shibaman while he was away.

“yeah, she's right. you don't need to worry about nothing.” yasushi spoke making todoroki's gaze switch to him.

“it won't take more than an hour i promise. don't get too drunk.” he said before you nodded and he left. so there were only you and the idiots, and you agreed to play beer pong with them. you were pretty sure it wouldn't be too difficult since you could drink quite well. in the middle of the game, they started to realize that your shooting was good, you rarely threw the ball away. then the opposite team started to rearrange their strategy to caught up your team's score. you've got tipsy but the games had an endless round until kiyoshi passed out beside you.

you snorted, “poor you, kiyo-kiyooo!” then laughed maniacally. you sat on the sofa when tsuji lit his cigarette. you felt your head too dizzy to worked but the view of a drunk guy smoking beside you intrigued you so much that you decided to try the nicotine too. so you pulled out a cigarette unconsciously and lit it up while sucking on it carefully.

“i shouldn't leave you with these jerks.” the love of your life showed up and snatched the nicotine between your lips.

“baby!” you exclaimed cheerfully and put your arms around his neck. completely distracted.

“why don't you listen to me?” he hissed.

you frowned. “me? not listening? never! i've never not listening to you in my life.” you put your head on his shoulder, clingy. “i'm just… sleepy.” then you pecked his neck.

he rolled his eyes and tightened his hand on your waist. “we're going home.” he said, slightly mad but couldn't ignore the way your warm breath fanned his side neck.

YUKEN ✧.*

“can i talk to my boyfriend?” the right side of your face lying on the table. you eyed your boyfriend, who was sitting next to you.

“you can. what do you want to talk about?” yuken dropped the glass he'd been holding onto the table then put his palm under your cheek so it wouldn't get sore. he was smiling slightly looking at adorable view of you like this.

“honestly, i didn't want to go on the triple date either.” you started. “i love to be like this. just with you.”

yuken laughed at your cute confession. you both were at a small shop near the restaurant you previously visited for a triple date your boyfriend initially refused to come to. but you said it just for once and you spent days to persuading him to come, so he agreed.

“i was in denial of it but today the proof was in front of my eyes. i can't deny that i only get comfortable with you now.”

he smirked as he feel an ego boost. he thought he made a genius decision to drink with you. your relationship was love-hate so that was the first time you were so honest about your feeling.

“sorry to forced you to come to that date.”

he caressed your hair. “it's fine. i can finally know about you more because of that damn date.” he grinned. “i'll plan us a proper date for next week.”

you giggled. “oh, really? will you?” you asked doubtedly.

“it will be the best date ever and you need to give me a reward if i succeed.”

you held his hand with both of yours. “deal.” and you didn't let go of his hand afterward.

he noticed that you were more touchy when you were drunk and it was kinda alarming because he wouldn't let you drink without him.

you stared straight at his lips when he was going to speak. “okay, then. we'll see.” he tried to let go of his hand from you slowly to down his tequila but your movement restrained him.

you quickly lift your head and approached his, placing a gentle kiss on his mouth for a few seconds.

“your lips are flirting with me.” you blurted out.

yuken remained frozen for a while then he stood up and carried your body like a sack on his shoulder. he smirked, “that's not fair you drunkenly doing that in public. let's go home.”

YASUSHI ✧.*

it was almost midnight when he received a call from an unknown number. he wanted to ignore it but he remember you were out drinking with your friends, so he picked up quickly. a deafening noise entered his ear.

“hello, is it—”

“where is my girlfriend?” he cut. fast. his body was ready to sprint to wherever you were.

“s-she is drunk—can you pick her up? i'll send the location.”

he hung up then grabbed his jacket and shoes to head to your location—luckily it wasn't that far.

he almost got there when he saw a girl sitting on the ground—face down and nearly passed out… or maybe sleeping? it was you.

“babe? why are you—you okay? babe? how can—” too many question filled his brain. you opened your glazed eyes after hearing a familiar voice.

“hi,” you greeted happily. you placed hands on his arms to support your body to pecked his cheek. a wide smile appeared after the sudden action.

“babe—”

“i had a good night,” you grinned. “you're so pretty by the way.” his cheek and ear turned red at the same time. it wasn't a good timing but who could ignore compliment from the prettiest girl on earth?

“thanks but how can you end up here? where are your friends? you said you're going with the girls, right?”

your eyes closed but the smile didn't seem to fade anytime soon. “they're going home… maybe?”

“what do you mean maybe?” you place a forefinger on his lips. “shut up. my head's noisy.”

he groaned to himself. “i swear i'll beat them tomorrow.” you frowned. “they are my friends—girls—you can't.”

“okay then i'll punch their boyfriend?”

you laughed. “stop, you feral kid.”

he sighed heavily. “let's go home you need to wash yourself.” he swore he won't let you out drinking again without him.

[vibingpyro]

Piercings and pretty lips

⚠️ TW ⚠️ : Mentions of piercings, needle and decent in depth process of tongue piercing.

Duck- Affectionate British slang term of affection for another person.

Word Count:2,066

"This would go so much smoother if you stayed still, y'know."

You give an incoherent response as you glare at Hobie through the iridescent light of his bathroom, not that he wouldn't be able to tell the mild impatience in your tone regardless of how unintelligible. Your tongue is pinched carefully between Hobies index and thumb finger, his eyes flickering from yours and back to the extended pink muscle.

Being around Hobie must be an greater influence than what you had expected, as you mentioned thinking about getting an piercing in casual conversation with him while lazing about one slow afternoon at his swaying canal boat home, Hobie had practically perked up like an shark smelling blood in the water at the idea.

How you had convinced Hobie to pierce your tongue in his bathroom of all places though in your eagerness, you aren't too sure but you're certainly not complaining while you sit on the edge of his bathroom counter, Hobie situated between your spread legs to get to properly get a grip on your tongue, seeing if you have the proper anatomy for said piercing.

Hobie hums, tugging just a bit on your tongue between his fingers, testing the elasticity of it ignoring when you grumble at him. "Well, you certainly have the anatomy for it." He says, releasing his pinched fingers from your tongue. You bring your tongue back in your mouth, running it along the roof of your mouth to get rid of that odd dry feeling of it being exposed to air for longer than usual.

"Is that a yes, then?" You ask, barely able to contain your excitement at Hobie nod. He leans to the side, one of his hands lightly drums onto your thigh into an practiced rhythm while the other pulls up the tray of sterilized tools he had prepared on the counter for after his inspection of your tongue. Although you're sure he's had it down his throat enough times to know you had the proper anatomy the entire time, but you don't say complain.

"And you're positive you want this, duck?" He says, quirking up one pierced eyebrow at you still drumming his fingers against your thigh, leaning back to fully gauge your reaction. The familiar nickname rolling off of his tongue, you never really did ask why he had started to call you that but it feels too late to ask about it now. You just glare at him and nod, even sticking out your tongue to further solidify your stubborn answer, you feel if you prolong this you might go back on this whole idea. Hobie huffs out an small chuckle as he shakes his head amused by your antics, "Alright, if you're sure.." he murmurs fingers finally resting against your thigh.

He grabs at an thin black marker from his pocket, gently gripping your tongue between his index and thumb finger again his eyes narrowed in focus as he dots right in the middle of your offered tongue. It surprisingly doesn't have an gross taste you note, just a tad bitter. Hobie leans back and releases his hold on your tongue, shuffling to open a drawer beside your calf digging around until grasping at an hand held mirror and holds it up for you to see the dot marked on the pink muscle. "Right 'bout there?" He asks.

You look into the mirror already trusting Hobies judgement and precision, nodding in satisfaction as you deem the placement of the dot acceptable. Hobie nods back, although it's more of an subconscious movement of your own agreement. He places the handheld mirror down beside you on the counter, his warm hand drifting from your thigh to open the sterilized packed needle on the metal tray on your opposite side. He opens the package with quick fingers, likely from practice of piercing his friends over the years and stitching. You feel a hint of nerves buzzing in the pit of your belly, but you trust Hobie explicitly to not screw this up...mostly. But if things were to go wrong, you would have solid blackmail for at least an year you think on the bright side.

Hobie then grabs at an pair of silver long forceps laid on the silver tray next to you, adjusting his hold on them, moving towards your tongue, clamping down on it with an steady grip as he lines up the dot on your tongue with the hole in the forceps. It doesn't feel too uncomfortable just a bit firmer pressure than Hobies fingers, your eyes trailing Hobies fingers as they move deftly into the open package of the piercing needle and picking it up between two fingers.

"Right, on three.." he murmurs, his eyes meeting yours for a moment of mutual understanding, your hands move to grip at the hem of Hobies shirt in preparation for what is more likely going to hurt like an bitch. You close your eyes as Hobie begins to count down, you feel him move just a bit closer his thigh nudging your legs apart just enough to slide a bit further in between them, easily closing most of the space between you. It would be tender how he molds himself to you if it weren't for the giant needle hovering so close to you.

"One...two...three-!" He cuts himself off just as he pushes the needle in through your tongue. Your grip on Hobies shirt tightens instantly as the needle strikes all the way in. You feel saliva build up in your mouth from the sudden sharp pinch, your nose scrunching up as you breathe through the discomfort as you try to keep your tongue still regardless of the forceps doing that perfectly for you.

"There you go, duck...jus' breathe, in and out through your nose." Hobie murmurs soft reassurances as he puts the forceps aside while keeping the needle steady through your tongue while his other hand grabs at the jewelery placed on the side that he had shown you for your possible options of tongue piercings he had kept around in a tiny mint container assuring you they were all sterilized and clean although you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes as he said it was for in his words 'Mo-mintos' .

You had opted for an an small silver one, it's regular in size and shape but he had said it would look perfect with a sly wink, almost as if knowing something you don't. The last thing Hobie had wanted to do was overwhelm you with a larger piercing you assume.

He slides the jewelery in with ease as he pushes the needle out completely, tossing away the needle efficiently to the trash can in the opposite side of the room before working on screwing in the balls of the silver piercing on each end with quick fingers, unbothered when a bit of saliva and blood runs down over his fingers. You finally peek your eyes open squinting at Hobie through the tears.

Hobie looks up from your now fully pierced tongue, his pupils are a black hole surrounded by his beautifully colored iris as he looks into your eyes. He hums lowly in appreciation, his right hand coming up to wipe away at the saliva and blood dribbling down your chin. "How're you feelin'?" he asks, always attentive. If you weren't so focused on how close he is you can hear the undertone of pride as he speaks.

You slowly bring your tongue back into your mouth, feeling the cold metal of the piercing quickly adjust to the warm temperature of your mouth. The taste of your blood in your mouth isn't unbearable, but the amount of saliva gathering in your mouth is a mild inconvenience as you begin to talk. "I feel fine but it feels weird.." you acknowledge, testingly running it along the roof of your mouth before Hobie can warn you.

You wince immediately feeling as if your tongue were struck by lightning, and Hobie clicks his tongue but his eyes show only concern if not a hint of amusement too. His hands land on your thighs squeezing through the denim of your jeans to try to ground you against the pain buzzing through you. "Ya can't just do that. It's gotta heal." He scolds you giving you an raised eyebrows look, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Which it is. But still.

You nod as your eyebrows remain scrunched together, mostly focusing on trying to will the pain away, but ever greatful for Hobies quick thinking of using his hands to squeeze and rub up and down your thighs, the warmth of his large palms through your jeans is hard not to notice. His lovely, talented palms. Good God, now you're blushing. As if the pain wasn't enough to make you want to jump off of a cliff.

If Hobie didn't notice the heat rising to your cheeks he most certainly is almost able to feel it by how close he is. You speak after the pain finally dims, just slightly. "I was curious." Is all you state, beginning to feel your tongue swell around the base of where the piercing is nestled. Hobie snorts, his head rolls down to your shoulder momentarily, resting there as he stills his comforting motions on your thighs. You barely stop the whine coming from your throat as Hobie pulls his hands away, only to stop once they land on your cheeks and he looks back up, meeting your burning gaze.

"You're an dunce. Open up f'me."

You don't even bother to validate that with an verbal response, guessing he wants to see the piercing once more. You oblige and open your mouth, sticking your tongue back out, the shiny metal damp with saliva and hints of blood. Hobie seems to drink the sight in eagerly, his eyes glued to the metal jewelry he had placed there.

"Knew it would look killer, had a bunch'a fun memories with this one.." he murmurs, thumbs rubbing subconsciously at the skin of your cheeks. Memories? Your eyes widen comically, and Hobie chuckles, his eyes unsticking from the piercing to your own wide eyes. "Oh? I didn't mention that this was my starter?" He states noncommittally, as if it were the most causal thing ever. You had known Hobie had his tongue pierced, it was common knowledge, like when he stuck out his tongue in sassy retort during fond arguments, when he made up for those exact arguments..

But this was unexpected on an entire new level. You had his first ever tongue piercing jewelery in your mouth, likely from years ago. You can hardly contain your hands from gripping Hobies shirt tighter, butterflies rushing to life in your belly at the thrilling revelation. Hobie can't help but smile wider at your clearly affected reaction, keeping his hands on your cheeks. "If I didn't know any better, you like that idea.. don't you, duck?" He coos with just the right amount of condescension. His hands going to rest from your cheeks to beside your legs on the counter you're sitting on, eyes half lidded as he memorizes your no doubt flustered face, cheeks aflame and still dumbly sticking out your tongue for him to admire.

You nod, still at a loss for words but bring your tongue back into your mouth, the pain is a dull after thought by the way Hobie is looking at you as if you had given him an perfectly wrapped present has you trying to lean closer to connect your lips to his but he quickly evades it by moving his head beside your ear, clicking his tongue again in disapproval.

"Uh-uh, no kissing for three weeks till it heals." He reminds you so quietly into your ear and you feel blood rushing into your hear at his voice so close, so sweetly, but you sink back in disappointment at the mention, new piercing means no kissing after all.

Hobie must sense your disappointment as he gently knocks his head into yours, your disappointing thoughts pushed away as he gathers your full attention, suggesting something even more tempting into your ear. "I never said we couldn't do anything else." He says, nuzzling his head down to your neck, pressing soft kisses and nips to the flesh of your neck. "Just keep those pretty lips to yourself, yeah?"

[radioactive-yuri]

i just feel like there's no way orochimaru's eating habits weren't a bit fucked up as a kid. like, on the same level as naruto's, since they were essentially in the same situation (orphan child living on their own), and unlike with naruto, we don't even know if they were being given any money. and we're explicitly shown that naruto's eating habits are fucked because, y'know, he's a literal child having to fend for himself with what i can only assume is the bare minimum amount of money needed for basic survival. his diet consists primarily of ramen, he eats spoiled food, he's almost always a bit hungry. he's probably not getting the nutrients he needs at all.

so why would we assume that orochimaru did, when they were in his position? in the very best case scenario, hiruzen was also giving them money, which means they were probably surviving off of whatever they could afford with that (again, cheap food with low nutritional value), or. well. this is a bit dark, but what if hiruzen wasn't giving them any money. what if they literally survived off of whatever they could find as a child. rats, birds, raw eggs. their house probably had kitchen appliances, but did they know how to use those at that age, or did they burn and cut their fingers just trying to make something to eat? how many times did they accidentally eat poisonous berries, get sick from drinking river water, go an entire day without eating anything at all? do you think they got into the habit of just stealing whatever they could? do you think the bell test was easy for them because they were used to the idea of having to 'earn' their meals by fighting? how malnourished were they by the time they started earning their own money?

their mind and body are constantly in survival mode because that's what they're used to. fighting for their right to continue to exist slowly warps into killing for their right to continue to exist, into their obsession with immortality, into their resentment of human fragility.

[condensed-ink]

I've been thinking a lot about #FixTF2 and I know that some might have their doubts about the movement, however, I've realized that, even if it does not succeed in getting Valve's attention, it will end up contributing towards an important development in recent years - the shift in the public perception of Valve.

If you are person who was growing up in the early 2010's then you obviously remember how Valve games were essentially the cultural zeitgeist of the time, how you would see pictures of King Gaben on every meme/YouTube thumbnail during a Steam Summer Sale. As I understand it, Valve essentially rode this wave of good will throughout the 2010's. Even when everyone was getting frustrated with the lack of sequels for games such as HL2 and L4D2, some people would just excuse it with "ah y'know Valve, not communicating and not doing anything is just their style, this is just probably part of Gaben's 5D chess - tier master plan". However, the cracks in this image have been slowly showing up for a long time:

Portal fans haven't had anything since Portal 2's release back in 2011. We have had some small VR titles but that's hardly any consolation.

Left for Dead 2 came out all the way back in 2009 with nothing afterwards. As of June of 2024, the game still has more than 10 thousand concurrent players yet it is also unplayable for a significant amount of people due to reported DDos attacks.

The suffering of Half - life fans at this point is a meme in itself. The only thing we got was HL:Alyx back in 2020 and, even though it's a very good game, it was inaccessible to a lot of people at launch due the costs and lack of VR hardware. We were left on a cliff-hanger AGAIN and four years later we have no news of any follow-up.

In my opinion, Valve to some extent could ignore these fandoms since they were smaller compared to their big earners. But it is the recent issues with these bigger titles that have started to test everyone's patience and tolerance for Valve's bullshit:

Team Fortress 2 - I mean what else is there to say: rampant cheating and idle bots, bot hosters doxxing and swatting people. The bots crisis has been destroying the game for the past 5 years. If we remember the original SaveTF2 movement, it had a more positive tone, i. e., people talking about how much they love the game and pleading Valve to fix it. Well, one shitty tweet and two years later the tone has gone from "Please fix the game" to "FIX THE FUCKING GAME YOU ASSHOLES" and rightfully so.

CS2 also has a myriad of issues. CS:GO became CS2 after the game jumped to the Source 2 engine, but the resulting game, by many accounts, is a downgrade. A lot of game modes and maps from the original game were not included and are still not present as of June of 2024. Cheaters are rampant. To what degree I cannot say but it is to an extent where a significant enough portion of the player base is affected. Also, the game hasn't had an operation (major content update) since 2021. The player count is still high, but a lot voices in the community have been chewing out Valve for this level of incompetence.

With DOTA 2 I cannot say for sure. Some people talk about neglect whilst others say the game is in a decent state considering the game still gets frequent updates and patches. At most I can say that there is a portion of players that are dissatisfied with the state of the game but most likely to a much lesser extent than in the previous cases.

HOWEVER

All of that is just one part of the double whammy, the second part is probably is much worse than the first - a lack of continuity for Valve's legacy.

I mean, let's think about it for a second here: most of us who grew with the Valve classics are probably in our mid-to late twenties at this point. Of course, I'm not saying that there aren't any younger fans but the bulk is the old guard. I'm pretty sure a lot of kids and teenagers don't even know a lot about these games and it's not their fault, they weren't old enough to experience them. The blame lies SOLELY with Valve because they have done NOTHING to boost the visibility of their older series due to the fact that they haven't bothered to make a single proper sequel for any of them.

And speaking of visibility, Valve's advertising strategy is non - existent and downright insulting . They really have this holier-than-thou perception of themselves, where they think "I am THE Valve softworks, makers of TF2 and Half-Life! How could you NOT know of us?!?!" and then expect everyone else to spread news of their games through word-of-mouth. Like, I'm sorry, Gabe, but we don't owe you shit. I'm not gonna advertise your shitty card-game and upcoming mediocre 5v5 hero shooter just because I had fun playing TF2 back in high school. Like, it's no surprise that you're not gaining any new fans when this has been your modus operandi for the past 10 years.

TO CONCLUDE

This is where we are right now: the old guard is either apathetic or straight-up hates Valve for their negligence, the younger generation barely knows about most of Valve's OG game series due to the lack of any meaningful output. At the end of the day, Valve isn't going to bankrupt, they're gonna keep taking their 30% cut from Steam and peddling gambling addictions to kids via cases. However, the era of good will is over, nobody is cutting them any slack anymore and, frankly, they deserve all the shit that's going to get thrown at them.

[phyrestartr]

HOUND pt.2 | Miguel x M!Reader

Geneticist!Miguel x Guard!Reader Part 2 W/C: 2.7k | Part 2 of 2

#NSFW, zombie AU, apocalypse AU, mentions of exploitation and abuse, body horror, gore, immoral research and experiments, power imbalance, reader is a criminal, miguel is a scientist, dark themes, part 2 ends on a positive note, reader is morally grey, bottom!miguel, top!reader, sorry there's lore lol

Note: AAAAH ok it's done and now I can struggle to finish my other fics instead asjdkf;weiafjf

--

Miguel couldn’t recall what happened after that. The noises outside the door, the wet sloshing of viscera and pained outcries echoed faintly in the black corners of his mind, but nothing else. Nothing about how he got out of that room. Nothing about what had attacked him. Nothing about where you had gone. 

The mystery led him to reviewing the footage. The security cameras were set in each room, only to be accessed in times where someone was suspected to be infected and other suspicious situations. He found the moments leading up to everything, the moment you pushed him against the wall, when you started taking off the vest, when you threw Miguel into the bathroom and forced the door closed with brute strength. 

What followed was unbearable. The thing, now confirmed to have been one of your kind, rippled with overwhelming, excruciating power. You couldn’t square up with it fairly, but you were smart and fast, hitting when it really counted and pulling the trigger only when you knew it’d strike true. But the problem was its objective; the entire fight, Miguel realized, was a contest for the bathroom door. The monster didn’t care about you. You weren’t its target. It was going for him.

But it didn’t show you any mercy. It tore chunks out of you, shattered your ribs, broke whatever part of you it touched until you’d put it down for good with a full mag into its soft, melted skull. You staggered backwards, feeling behind you for the cool touch of the door before you collapsed against it, trying to stay standing despite it all. It was hard to watch. To see someone suffering and still fighting the good fight even though they’d already lost in order to win. 

You eventually crumbled and held what was left of your stomach and chest as you heaved in air. Loud sounds, like a wooden train whistle, hissed through the gaps left between your exposed ribs and the holes in your tattered lungs time after time, breath after breath, up until the EMTs arrived; you scrambled to get up, nearly spilling your guts and breaking off a leg before a tranquilizer hit you, and put you down. 

After that, you’d been carted off, and Miguel stepped out of the bathroom moments later, shaken and confused. Gabe showed up, thank God, and the thing that’d started all the bullshit was dead, but he couldn’t help the lingering tendrils of paranoia stitching the muscles taut in his shoulders. Then, and now. 

He needed to see you for himself. 

“Listen, listen, it’s suuuper nice that you suddenly have a weak spot for the guy, it’s really cute, but we haveta set you up with a different one for now–”

“What?” Miguel cut in while Lyla spun in her chair and fixed her obnoxious sunnies. “Why do–they heal. I don’t want any other–”

“Yep, yep, yep, I totally get it, but he’s reaaal messed up. He’s gonna take some time to fix ‘n heal and everything, yenno?” Lyla spun around again in a full 360 before coming back to face Miguel and point her pen at him. “If he’s too hard to fix, then they were thinking of scrapping him for parts and testing and everything.” 

Scrapped. For parts. 

“They won’t scrap him.” Miguel frowned. “He’s the best host we have. The most successful specimen the whole fucking project's made.” 

“Uh, yeah, and that's why they're gonna do their best to save him.” She tilted her head, curious. “No one wants to kill a good dog, y'know.” 

It was true. No one wanted to rid Alchemax of one who was dedicated enough to put their life in jeopardy for the sake of protecting their charge. He didn't expect you to go this far. No one did. 

–

It took weeks for you to be reinstated as Miguel's watchdog. In the interim, he was appointed a new guard, but life didn’t feel right. He supposed that bonds and trust played into the feeling more than he'd like to admit. Sure, the two of you hadn't really spoken before that day, but you'd been with each other for years. Silently learning about one another, measuring each other's capacity to be trustworthy. 

So with a new dog, Miguel felt unnerved, maybe even a bit unsteady. It had been one of them who'd snapped, after all. One of them lost their minds and went on a rampage–which was exactly what the current meeting was about. 

“No one saw it coming,” one said. “We didn't think it would happen, and that's the problem, isn't it?” 

“Weeell, things are bound to go awry here and there.” Olivia shrugged and crossed her arms. “It's part of science! I'd say this whole drama has given us some pretty good results on the extremes; one imploded and started eating people, and the other one exploded trying to save one of us.” 

“Still think we should scrap O'hara's mutt for parts,” Aaron interjected, unhelpful and annoying as ever. “Who knows when that one'll blow too, hey?” 

Miguel ignored Aaron. He wouldn’t feed into his prodding and pushing. “He's mine. I decide when he's too dangerous.”

“You sure you're not gonna be blinded by feelings, O'hara?” Aaron spat with an ugly smile. “I saw the footage. You–” 

“Oh my God, don't act like you don't try to fuck everyone else's guards,” another scientist groaned. “You're probably why one snapped.” 

Aaron's face blistered red. Miguel smirked, enjoying the show, enjoying the fact that no one was on the idiot's side. It was the apocalypse. Fucking mutants was the least of their worries. 

Stone, exasperated, called it there, and everyone dispersed. Miguel took his time with his thoughts in the silence of the room. The lack of people around him sparked a jolt of adrenaline, or maybe fear, and sent his train of thought off the rails and into something ungodly. He hated being alone these days. He couldn't bear the thought of being the last man standing, of having to fend for himself after everything. Not that he would have to, no, not unless your replacement did him in, or–

“Sir?” 

Miguel turned and nearly knocked his chair off its wheels. He clutched the desk in a panic just before his eyes landed on you. 

You looked different. Streaks of faint scars painted the side of your face where an eyepatch hid away whatever wreckage laid beneath. A metal brace hugged one of your knees and dripped down into a glittering, high-tech prosthetic limb that told a story Miguel didn't want to indulge in. And you looked tired. So tired. Your voice, once something rough like sandpaper, now sounded like shattered glass grinding underfoot.

But you still had that placid, somewhat judgemental stare that told him, I'm alright.

Your brows raised expectantly, like your return didn't need to be celebrated and you'd much rather like to get on with your day of following Miguel around like a lost puppy. He could relate, and he could comply. 

–

Acting normal until getting you into his new quarters was tough; Miguel had the inexplicable urge to touch you, see your skin, feel your heat singe his palms, but he wouldn't do it in the eye of the others, no. Not for his own decency, but because they didn't deserve it. You were all his. 

Miguel was sure to lock the doors and initiate an armoured lockdown to ease his paranoia before he turned to you with a demand on his tongue: “Strip.” 

You quirked a brow. “This didn't go so well last time.” But you complied, clearly trying to hide away your amusement.

“It's fine. We're fine.” He helped you pull the vest and the shirt off just like he did all those weeks ago, but now with more finesse and determination; he wanted his do-over, and he was going to get it. “I need to see for myself.” 

“Whatever.” You rolled your shoulders once your bare skin hit the air and prickled with goosebumps. Even the lifeless spots with angry reddened scars recoiled from the sharp nip, and then the heat of Miguel's touch.

He dragged his gaze all over you, drinking in the ruined expanses of skin with hungry eyes. Every new mark was examined, every stitch and bandage touched and committed to memory, every bruise earned the softest graze of fingertips. It was hard not to be enticed with one another in that tense, long silence. 

Miguel's eyes lingered on your split lip before meeting your eyes, reading whatever he could from you. But he didn't expect what you said. 

“You get hurt?” You grumbled. 

Miguel shook his head lightly, his attention unwavering as his hands made themselves useful and plucked loose the buttons on your cargos again. “I'm fine.” He pulled the zipper down next. The muscles of your abdomen rippled against the palm keeping you still. “Sore from you throwing me, but fine.” 

The corner of your mouth twitched. “If you'd listened and moved–” your next words dissolved against the brutish lips colliding with yours. Miguel's hands slipped further below and palmed your soft cock through the thin material of your undergarments; apparently you weren't surprised by the candid dick grab, but the kiss of all things threw you for a loop. Miguel moved to leaving marks along your neck while your brain scrambled to make sense of the random affection. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” You breathed, unsure of where to touch or what to do with your hands.

“Picking up where we left off.” Miguel squeezed your filling bulge again, eagerly massaging you in encouragement to get things going. His ego swelled when your hand found his shoulder after a particularly weak spot was found.

“Hah. I shouldn't be–” 

“You'll manage,” he insisted, watching you like prey trying to woo its predator. “You probably haven't been touched like this in a while, si, guapo?” Your hips jolted against his hand while his husky voice drew you in. “Bed. Now.” 

You didn't have much of a choice, not when Miguel's needy hands guided you to the soft sheets and forced you to lay down. You were just in the middle of a sore groan when Miguel pulled your waistband down just enough to free your hardened cock, and give you a fierce dose of whiplash between the pain of healing wounds and the bliss of hands on you.

For all of Miguel’s want, now that he was this far, he wasn’t sure where to take it. He was going to make you cum, obviously, but how would he go about it? Handjob, blowjob, actually taking it up the ass? Some were obviously more impactful than others, so–

“Christ, alright, now that you’ve played with my dick, we can put it away for today, Doc,” you grouched, sitting up to pull Miguel’s hand away. “I’m too tired for this shit.”

“Wh–no.” He swatted your hand away like a petulant child and shot you an equally childish glare. “You have to obey my orders, as far as I recall.”

Something akin to a deadpan hit your face. “You’re fucking joking. You’re gonna pull that shit now?”

“You’re my subordinate,” Miguel reminded, not bothering to hide his smug demeanor and faux innocence. “Act like it.” 

Before you could bitch back, he started stroking you firmly and slowly, squeezing harder near the tip and base with every motion. You stopped complaining surprisingly fast–Miguel almost wanted you to fight him more, but, maybe for a first run, your utter compliance would serve him. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to hold you down or fend off your grabby hands while, at the same time, trying to get a handle on how to properly please another man. 

Just when you sounded like you were about to object again, he took you into his mouth, and shut you up. At that moment, Miguel was glad you were touch-starved. Otherwise, the inexperienced gags and hefty strings of saliva connecting his lush lips to your throbbing length would’ve surely shortened Miguel’s lifespan. He was supposed to be good in bed. He was good in bed. And he’d make damn sure to continue being good in bed with another man. 

Your hand fisting in his well-kempt hair had him growling with warning, thinking you were going to try to make him stop, but one glance up at you through teary lashes washed that thought away; your eyes were shut, bottom lip caught between your lip and welling with the faintest bit of blood from those elongated canines of yours. A kinder shade of crimson painted your cheeks and the bridge of your nose a sweet summer colour that seemed to darken more when Miguel bravely slipped you down his throat and up again. 

“Shit. Fuck. Shit.” You let go of his hair with a pathetic whimper and collapsed onto your back, hands reaching back to claw into the wall and headboard to try and expel your rattling energy someway, somehow. The grating of metal and long, deep marks left in your claws’ wake would piss Miguel off any other day, but right now, your destructive praise fed his ego until it threatened to burst. 

But a slight shift from the scientist and a misplaced hand on the convergence of flesh and metal shook up the easy rhythm. You hissed and sat up, reflexively snatching his hand away from your leg with barbed fingers. Miguel pulled off of you with a choked yelp rattling in his throat as your hold drew blood, and like a dog who'd bit another too hard, you let go. 

“Shit, I didn't mean to–” you stopped yourself, though, and instead took Miguel's hand with a less-lethal touch. You looked at the wound before leaning down and running the flat of your tongue against the wound once, twice, thrice. The pain subsided quickly after, leaving behind a tingly, sparking feeling. “Doesn’t look too bad.” Miguel watched your nostrils flare and pupils dilate–clearly, his blood was having an effect on you. And that fact was having an effect on Miguel, in turn. 

The apology for hurting you was long forgotten by the time Miguel leaned up and kissed you, holding the side of your face with his wounded hand. He pushed hard against the tip of your fang until spongy flesh gave way, and the vile tang of blood pooled in his mouth, and now in yours. 

You moaned, or maybe growled, and Miguel’s hips jerked. He worked on slipping his weeping tongue around your mouth while his good hand continued his work on your stiffy, eager to finish you off while you were distracted. Your hands clutched at him again, claws still nipping into his skin and clothes, but more like a cat kneading its owner rather than a lion latching onto prey. 

But those barbs sunk deep into him when you came. Your hold on him tightened, and the low growls reverberating through your body crescendoed into a few, cherished moans when your lips left his as rapture hit you. Miguel spared a look down at the mess you’d made, but too quickly his gaze returned to the bobs of your Adam’s apple, the muscles pulsing and tensing in the aftershocks, the sheen of red coating your cracked lips. It was enough to make him come undone, untouched by you, only fulfilled by the rub of cotton on his hardened cock.

And of course, you noticed it right away. Ugh. “You’re a freak,” you scoffed out between breaths. “Fucking–cumming from, what? Getting your pet off?” 

Miguel rolled his eyes to betray his embarrassment, and squeezed you hard at the base to pull one last mean, choked groan out of you. “Callate. You could try being grateful, hm?”

“Don’t think that’s in my programming.” You leaned back and looked down at the mess. “Who’s gonna clean this up, Doc?” You prodded looking up at him through your lashes. 

Miguel’s intrigue piqued. “Here I thought you were too tired,” he mocked. 

“Might change your mind tomorrow. Oughta cash in while I can.” 

“Hm.” Miguel let go and leaned back, shaky fingers working on his own clothes. “Guess I can give you another treat.”

But, as fate would have it, one more go of it turned into five, and left him half-alive come the morning.

[sometimeslapine]

[…Store-Bought Is Fine]

(the part two to the previous story! things get a bit more intimate...)

Shutting the door, locking the door, testing the door.

Satisfied, she slung the car keys back on their wall-mounted hook, and loudly announced her arrival home to nobody in particular. It was almost midnight.

She knew her roommate was out for the weekend, off to some convention thing. She knew she still had the house to herself for at least a few more days, but it never hurt to check. A little peace of mind goes a long way, especially given the whole… y'know. She was pretty sure that they were pretty sure that they knew the nonsense stuff she was into, but, still.

She looked down at the brown bag of oddities picked up about an hour earlier. She's really going to go through with this, huh. It almost felt anticlimactic, in a weird way? She'd mentally ran through this scenario about a dozen times on the drive home, almost burning the novelty of the situation out. Still, though…

★ ★ ★ ☾ ★

The clock finally struck twelve, and she set to work, full of eager energy. She'd always been a bit of a night owl (partial consequence of her hobbies), so it wasn't long before most of the kitchen was an absolute mess. It's the saffron, you see. A nightmare to refine when all you've got is the kind of second-hand electric stove a a certain landlord would "so graciously" provide with the place. A few dozen croquaenen stigmas removed, drying out as best they can over the low heat of a burner.

Several of the other reagents had been prepped by the time she was starting to grind up the would-be saffron in a mortar. Most of it was ready-to-use from the get go. Wasn't a lot to extracting the lavender oil, normally, but the need for a dry environment limited her options a bit. No boiling water, no steam allowed tonight. Still, she managed.

One in the A.M. finally landed, and she was prepping the space in her bedroom. The new moon tonight gave no ambient light to work off of, but old habits and comforts kept her craft project close to an uncurtained window, regardless. Small heat-resistant tarp laid out, sigil carefully drawn with the saff powder, lavender oil spread thinly around the perimeter, incense lit to set the mood, gemstones and the elemental charm each placed at a focal point in the design, and, uh,

…Hm,

Sitting down on the edge of her bed, she held the unlabeled bottle of that ficus sap stuff in her hand, gently rocking it back and forth in contemplation, feeling the viscous weight slowly shift its center of gravity, watching it coat the inside walls. She honestly had no idea what to do with the this stuff. Not for consumption, obviously, but uh. Damn. Really regretting not asking for clarification now.

Well, she was nothing if not one to improvise.

Running back to the kitchen to grab a small cup, she dipped the air charm in by its band and spilled enough of the latexy sap in to completely coat the thing. That's basically what balloons are on a technical level, right? A latex coating encasing air? Or the representation of air, anyway. That makes sense conceptually, right?? Yeah. What's the worst that could happen.

She carefully laid the encased charm back down on the decorated tarp, its position on the sigil representative of one's body. For good measure, she gave the same treatment to several of the gemstones, carefully removing them all from the mixture with a small pair of tongs. Another moment to dry, then back into their place they go. Again, why not.

She had herself a mostly-complete alchemy circle. As a final precaution, she opened the bedroom window to that moonless sky (cautiously, only giving about 12 or so inches of an opening), aiming her tower fan to cycle air out. She didn't know how much smoke this thing was about to put off, and the last thing she needed was the fire alarm flipping this late at night.

A pause, to admire her handiwork. A photo taken, to document this setup in the off-chance it worked. Just one final reagent to go, and a comparatively big one at that.

She brought a section of the lavender oil to ignition with the still-burning incense, and carefully stepped onto the tarp, into the circle.

There was a blinding flash. The full span of the ring was now quickly ablaze with a low, luminous indigo flame. It was silent, bringing a radiance that almost felt cold. She felt a tingling sensation shoot up her spine; Either an effect of the ritual doing its work, or the nervousness of the situation as a whole. Playing with fire indoors was always a bit of a hazard, but she'd rather not risk doing this particular one outside, not with her fear of heights. Last thing she needed was an open sky without a safety harness.

That tingling eventually spread out across the rest of her body, slowly at first, and then rapidly down her limbs, with an intense heat that felt completely foreign to her. It wasn't the flames, but something more… internal? The closest association her brain could make was someone very gently running a lint roller across every square inch of her body. Weird, gentle prickling sensations, a light tug upwards as if some phantom adherence was being removed. Under any other situation, she'd have kicked back to enjoy the sensory show, but this was nothing but terse apprehension, a feeling that felt like it was going to drag on for eternity.

And then it stopped, just as quickly. The flames sputtered to an emberless ash, leaving a sweet honeyed scent throughout the now-darkened room. She collapsed on the floor, exhausted, panic finally over. Wow, did she ever feel light-headed. Probably should've had something to eat before this.

★ ★ ★ ☾ ★

She laid there on her back for quite some time, hazy attention focusing in and out on the ceiling. Slowly coming-to again, she braced herself for the fire alarm to kick off screaming. The window precaution seems to have done the trick in evacuating the smoke, at least. That's good. That's… good. Wow, did she ever feel light… ah… …light-everything? What… what the fuck.

Was that a sign it worked?

She lifted a hand upwards above her, as best as she could. It felt like her strength was sapped. She- "Holy shit." Involuntarily spoken. She could almost see right through it though, if she looked hard enough. "Holy shit. What the fuck." Propping herself up against the side of her bed, she pulled off her shirt as quickly as she could manage, pausing to lament the smudged ashen marks the sigil left on the backside. It was faint looking down, but sure enough, she saw the carpet underneath, no, directly /through/ her own chest. "Holy shit." It was literally all she could manage, rendered otherwise speechless.

She placed a hand against her belly, and gave a hesitant push. It squished down in, far more than it had any right to, before springing right back up when her pressure relented. "I- I'm a balloon. Rubber. I'm- This is- I- h-hah," before fully giving way to excited laughter. The absurdity of it all hit like a truck.

A beat passed, her taking time to fully come to terms with the changes that had taken place. Right. She did this to herself, intentionally, with purpose. There was only one thing on her mind.

She scrambled across the floor to her closet (as best she could, given the lack of any actual internals that would've helped with that,) and- "Where the /fuck/ is that air compressor." …and unburied the thing she kept hidden but never had a chance to use, covered in dust as it was.

It was by no means powerful, but it moved air around, into things, and that's all she cared about in the moment.

★ ★ ★ ☾ ★

Plugged in, Powered on, Airflow tested.

With her clothes now fully removed, she did her best to prop herself up against the bedroom wall, naked and reaching (blindly fumbling) around behind her. The still-running hose went it with no resistance at all, and she immediately felt a pressure begin to build around her pelvis before dispersing upwards. Everything quickly felt tight. There was a bubbly tingle. A slight belly bump made itself known, and she stared at it in amazement as she watched the rise and fall of her shallow breaths become more of a rise and rise, and rise, and rise.

The feeling, the experience left her even weaker in that moment. She slid back down to a seated position, grabbing at her own tummy, cradling it as it rounded out to something akin to a basketball, waistline slowly gaining an inch or two every minute, puffing out onto her lap. God, this felt fucking incredible. It was greater, unlike anything she could've imagined (and that imagination certainly wasn't devoid of attempts). The pressure buildup, the restricted movement, the taboo nonsense feeling of it all. It was like getting a really good stretch in that just kept going and going. The bonus vibrations she got from the air compressor's magnet-driven motor traveling through the hose certainly didn't help her feel in any way Normal about it.

it was a few minutes of bliss before a hit of clarity successfully broke through the obsession. she needed room to grow, and the corner of her room wouldn't be viable for long. get up. she should move to the bed, if she could manage.

Right. Okay. She attempted to stand. It was a little easier this time, the pressure keeping her body a bit more taut, less prone to collapse (is this what a pooltoy feels like?) but the vibrational waves of that motor reverberating through her core still kept her weak. It was all so much to feel. She almost looked like she'd swallowed a beachball at this point, and her sides were starting to round out just as much as her front was. Hell, she couldn't even see over the rising dome of her belly anymore.

Moving to the bed, she…

…

Well, She tried to, anyway. She practically fell face-and-tummy first onto the floor with a slight rebounding bounce, coming to a stop on all fours; A clumsy combination of the ever-shifting balance point, and a rough reminder that the hose kept her on a short leash about five feet long.

Y'know what, the floor was fine. She didn't care. She really could not care about anything else. She was suddenly in the perfect position to feel everything, every sensation, straddled over her own ballooning body, feeling the high-pile carpet gently brush across the increasing surface area of her expanding frontside, while her overall weight (or whatever fraction remained of it, this hollow) squished downwards, stretching and distorting her tummy outwards to the sides as much as it did the front.

With some hesitancy, she took the weight distribution off her palms, seeing just how well she could remain in this position without the added support. The shift in balance and the new restriction in room to grow gave a subtle redirection in airflow. A pressure in her chest built up, and she gave a questioning squeeze around her front-right. A squeak vocalized at the unexpected sensitivity, but she confirmed it, face reddening as expanding titflesh slowly billowed out around her grip. It was the first noise she'd made in a while, having been enjoying the experience in silent bliss. Boobs too, huh? God, what a fucking experience.

Minutes passed with the hum of the motor still whirring away in its duty, steadily blowing the girl rounder and rounder, pressure increasing bit by bit. Completely content, she thought back on that squeak she made; Embarrassing as it was, it was the kind of noise you'd expect from a balloon, and she held on to that thought almost in pride, nuzzling her face down in the unexpected cleavage she'd gained. She was more balloon then girl at this point after all, and balloons are meant to get round and squeaky. Balloons are designed for this. It's completely normal for a blimp to want these things, she reasoned with herself. Thi-

Train of thought cut short, her whole world suddenly flipped forward. Sheer size alone had outgrown her ability to retain traction, and her legs were now kicking skyward, hose and all in full display. Only thing that stopped her ending up face-first against the carpet as she tilted forward was her airbag of a chest.

Well, things were… a little more awkward, now.

Attempts at repositioning were challenging; It was a bit of trouble moving her arms around with all the boob in the way, but there was just this… odd resistance, on top of everything else? It's… stiff. Everything felt stiff.

Ah.

She slowly, hesitantly, relaxed as much as she could, taking note of how her arms now found natural resting positions straight out to the sides. They were tough to bend elsewise, and that stiffness was slowly giving way to a new, even-more-foreign feeling of pressure, like nervous butterflies flooding every cubic inch. The feeling was mirrored along her hips, down her legs. She didn't feel at-capacity yet, but the air was already searching for new places to go.

This… wasn't anticipated. Everything gently started to puff ever-so-noticeably rounder, and she was losing mobility fast. She tried to fight it, flailing a bit, trying to shift in any direction, but it only served as a reminder of how sensitive everything was, blown out like this. The air compressor was far too out of reach in this position, and she'd completely lost the mobility needed to pull the hose out. Alright. Fuck. stay calm. take stock of the situation. Okay. Yeah.

She was still mostly center-of-the-room, halfway between the closet and the bed, safe from the danger of pushing into anything sharp, but she really had no idea just how much give she had left in her. The pressure kept increasing in step with her size, and the square footage of this bedroom wasn't ever much to write home about. She could still feel the light reverberations from the compressor's motor, vibrations increasing in intensity, a whine crying out from the little device as it tried to fight PSI it almost definitely wasn't rated for.

Well, that's a potential solution, if she could manage that long. Outlast the motor. Hope it burns itself out. Prooooobably doable. And if she couldn't…

The threat of popping loomed overhead. Jeez… Hell of a way to go. She always knew she'd be done by one of her own spells, but it being something as dumb and air-headed as attempting to live out kink nonsense surprisingly wasn't high up on her list. It just.. didn't really seem all that dignified, to be honest. Hell, just thinking about how silly she looked, all blown up like some parade float mockery of herself, sensitive squeaking with every move, so round, so shiny, so huge, so very fucking huge, and tight, and full and stretching so thin you could see right through her, only moments away from total release like any good party blimp lovingly pushed to its limit and ready to explode, and god why was she so into this, this isn't helping her case, agh, focus, focus,

She was well past the point where internal pressure beat out features. Arms and legs swelling out comically conical, the valley dividing belly and underboob beginning to taper outwards, even her face felt a little bloated. She was over minutes away from being blown full-body spherical, and all she could do was ride it out. The pressure began to peak. Ah. This is it, then.

Closing her eyes, she waited.

Slow, calm breaths, trying to avoid adding any more tension to the body.

She waited, in intense anticipation.

★ ★ ★ ☾ ★

…Thirty seconds moved by without fanfare.

She… didn't feel any tighter? She was still really fucking tight, but… she didn't seem to be growing. The pump's still flowing, she can certainly feel that much, but the pressure wasn't increasing. Where's the bang.

Why was she almost disappointed…?

It was as if the compressor just couldn't move air anymore. Either that, or she sprung a leak somewhere. Airflow had normalized. She wasn't getting any bigger, but she wasn't getting any smaller, either.

She was just kinda… stuck like this. At least eight feet around, way too blown taut to do anything about the situation, almost completely unable to move (save for a slight rocking back and forth), and thanks to the motor of that hose gently buzzing away in a process she could still one-hundred-percent feel, she'd be stuck here for the foreseeable future, thoughts all but scrambled, with what amounted to a vibrator stuck between her legs. It still felt amazing, but, jeez, what a fucking scenario to be in. Her only possible release was still out at a con for the next few days, completely unaware they'd be coming home to a weather blimp for a roommate. (how on earth is she even going to explain this one.)

But, time still moved forward. She tried to let herself enjoy what she could of the situation. Occasional hushed moans broke through the silence of the night, intermingling with the white noise of the motor working diligently to ensure she'd always be topped off, like any good balloon should be.

…god. this was looking set to be a very, very long weekend.

[milkmissiles]

Mha boys when you have a stomach ache

(Because I am currently in excruciating pain lol)

Fluff. Literally just comfort and fluff. A little bit of implied spice.

Character index: denki, bakugou, shouto, kirishima x GN reader

Denki

This bitch would be so dramatic.

He would ask you all the questions.. like for someone who isn't book smart at all he sure does know a shit ton of symptoms.

Please humor him though he just wants to make sure your not dying.

I mean waking up in the middle of the night to see you curled up in a ball, tears rolling down your face, and your entire body tense and shaking is definitely a terrifying site for this poor boy..

But once you convince him you actually are not on deaths door, he will calm down a bit. He's still freaked the fuck out and absolutely has no idea what he's supposed to do but he will try his best.

He will hold you close all night, rubbing small circles into your stomach to distract you, if it's really bad he might give you some little shocks to distract you more.

In the morning, he'll run you a hot bath, helping you get in. But he won't leave you to your bath without saying something like, "Aren't you gonna be lonely in there without me? Y'know I could totally join you~"

He really likes to test his luck...

But once you shoot him a bit of a glare, indicating you are definitely not in the mood with the pain and all. He will leave you to it.

Although you have to admit baths are a lot more boring without him around...

Bakugou

He would somehow find a way to get mad at you?

Like bakugou wakes up to see you like dying on the floor, trying to find a comfortable position, and his first thought is to scold the absolute shit out of you...

"What the hell's up with you? Why are you curled up like that on the floor? You're gonna give yourself a headache if you sleep without head support idiot! Get back on the bed right now you stupid fuck!!"

He literally drags you back into bed by you collar before storming out of the room. He comes back with an advil, a glass of water and a snack and pretty much stuffs your face with them.

"You have a stomach ache, huh? Well, maybe you shouldn't have eaten that piece of toast you dropped on the floor!! I swear if you didn't have me you'd be dead! How stupid do you have to be to get yourself sick like this huh?? Huh?!"

He would say all this while stuffing a pain killer down your throat and force feeding you a granola bar...

"C'mon eat. You can't take advil on an empty stomach dumbass! Get it together you should know this!"

Once he's done scolding you, he'll huff, laying back down on the bed. Positioning himself so he's spooning you. One of his hands on your stomach, the other in-between your thighs. Turning himself into your own personal heat pack.

He'll make sure you get to sleep before he let's himself fall back asleep.

In the morning, he'll make you breakfast, your favorite breakfast in fact. The whole time grumbling about how its your fault he got no sleep last night. Shoving a plate of beautifully cooked food infront of you...

As pissed as he makes you think he is, he really was worried about you.

Shouto

As cold as the people who don't know him think he is. You know him well enough to know he's a huge softy.

He would immediately ask of your ok. Rubbing your back gently. He doesn't even skip a beat when he sees you curled up in child's pose on your shared bed, your breath sharp and unsteady.

Asks you if you need need anything, and when you respond with a sad sounding "sleep," He smiles softly at you. Thinking you look kinda cute like this..

After he gives himself a moment to figure out what you need, he'll go to your medicine cabinet and get you a painkiller. He'll pour you a glass of water and light a sented candle for extra relaxation. He is determined to get you some sleep.

He will pet your hair softly, speaking to you with the gentlest tone.

"Hey, y/n... can you sit up for me, please? I got you a painkiller, but you need to sit up to take it...*

He would help you up, giving you the pill and the water. He would help you lay back down. Cuddling you up to his left side and heating it up a bit to help your muscles relax. And if you start getting too hot, he'll place his right hand on the back of your neck. Cooling you off.

He would keep you at the perfect temperature to sleep. And you would sleep. Surprisingly enough, one of the best sleeps of your entire life.

Kirishima

This poor boy is absolutely lost.

He has zero idea how to help you and is instead left trying to calm you down as you sob into the bed sheets...

(Please, he's so freaked out)

I can see him patting your back like an awkward dad y'know?

He tries to talk you out of it too. Trying to act like he's not scared out of his mind that you're dying or some shit..

"Hey.. hey. You're ok.. you're ok, right? You're fine. Im here. You don't have to cry.. please don't cry.. are you okay??"

He's trying so hard but is so confused. Your talking is almost unintelligible through your tears, but eventually, he hears a soft, "advil..." Through the sobs.

He will fetch you some immediately. It takes him less than a minute before he's back. Advil in hand. A very determined look on his face.

Within like 30 minutes your passed out on his chest again. Sleeping oh so peacefully. He can finally breath, thanking the gods your ok. He was so worried you have no idea. Or I guess you probably do considering how he was fumbling over his words and desperately trying to help you. Now he just runs his hands through your hair, falling asleep in the quiet bliss of your breathing.

He will research the fuck out of this in the morning and make sure he is well prepared for the next incident. After all it is so not manly to not know how to care for your significant other..

[saltydogsmut]

Some People are going back to the comphet lesbian/Ace post as if Ashley engaging in sexual behaviour bc she thinks its the only keeping andrew from killing/leaving her, explicitly raping andrew and saying she didn't enjoy it anyway, and having the most dysfunctional married life where she always feels pain during sex (except one night when drunk) and Andrew doesn't care enough to do better....

Automatically makes her a heterosexual.

...

Like... how do you miss a point that badly. SHE'S NOT ENJOYING HERSELF?! Not that enjoyment necessarily means much for sexual attraction but oh my god.

Like, I just blocked immediately bc they don't know anything about the topic or just don't think women have internal lives outside of their actions but jesus christ. Neither is something i want to deal with.

Like, she's preforming heterosexuality, what the fuck did you think the Het was in comphet?

I'm willing to have Burial prove me wrong but y'know what? Im not sure it will. That's not what the game is about to begin with, but obviously the siblings are too emeshed in each other for us to ever see Ashley explore her sexuality. Even as a preteen she hated that her peers were boy obsessed but didn't have the vocabulary to express why forcing herself on a date felt wrong, untrue to herself. And sure, "loves andrew", but in the box ending its not like she's fucking him is it.

I didn't automatically take the scratches as something good the first time around in the burial vision scene and what do you know, it looks like it might not be. Wow.

--

Metaphor for those who need it under the cut.

To make things simple for other people: if you see me eating sushi you may think I like sushi. Instead it might be a friend's birthday and even though im not hungry or like it very much I'll tolerate it bc i love my friend and they like it. Or it might just be the closest food joint to my place of work so i just hork some down because im hungry.

Maybe I don't care what type of food im having. and maybe that's because i was never in a position to have food preferences to begin with and I'll develop them later. or maybe its because i always ignore the burning churn of my stomach and drooling as something that happens to everyone when they come across a perfectly seared steak. That everyone thinks seared steak is the most delicious looking food in the world and naturally pulls this result out of everyone. It's just not advertised to me and even if it was It's just so i know what my boyfriend would like.

Like, you have ppl in their 30's, with years of having enjoyable sex with men, finding out they're lesbians. Bc they've treated emotional intensity as a replacement for attraction and had good enough sex to not question the things they were told. Like that it's shallow for a woman to care about appearances, that all women generally find men gross, that women are the "fairer" sex. That women are naturally more reluctant and fridgid when it comes to sex. Etc etc.

But no. You had sex. With a man! You could never be not straight!

(For guys, that every guy doesn't really care what a woman looks like, guys will do anything. That every man desires an intense relationship with his bros that he never will with a woman. A bromance. That you get into a relationship just for sex and its only if she gets pregnant that you have to put a ring on it. No man wants marriage, its a ball and chain. If you don't want sex then its just because she's not hot enough. A woman should be okay with crumbs of intimacy and you shouldn't feel bad bc women don't expect emotions from a man and only want to own you, are only using you, and anyway they have lesser internal worlds and could never match up to a guy. Don't test any of these theories though, while they're super true and uncontestable they are mean to say. *fingers crossed* don't find emotinally resonant gay porn don't find beautiful gay porn...)

Like, i know tumblr is gay, but just bc they're having the wost sex known to all mankind, and not even trying to improve it, doesn't make them straight. Be nice.

[lxvvie]

NOOOOO HOW CAN YOU PUT THE GIRL DAD!SIMON IDEA IN MY HEAD LIKE THAT :,,((( THE CRY I CRODE

excuse my word vomit but if i may......

eldest girl is a worrywart and openly affectionate but has the tendency to be a scaredy-cat sometimes (she still has to conquer her nerves with the family dog, the retired military K9) while the youngest girl is a spitfire and plays rough (even with the dog, bless it), big emotions in a small girl and Junie for Junior???? You. Have. Gutted. Me...

also, they are very eloquent and articulate in communication and can effectively carry conversations at the young age of 4 and 3 because the parents (mostly, if not all the time simon) talk to them like they're 30 year-olds. they can say stuff "Saskatchewan" and "irrevocably" without breaking a sweat. the eldest catches papa's accent from time to time while Junie speaks without/has mum's.

there was one time papa simon came home with some new booboos: one on his shoulder (just right above the tattoo of his girls' names) and on his jaw (from shrapnels, let's say). eldest girl was playing up the doctor role, citing some random stuff from her little book and putting pink bandaids on it while junie was, well, scared of papa being all hurt. i imagine simon had to have a one on one with her before bed time, just him and her on the bedroom floor whilst the missus is explaining the sitch to their eldest in the master bathroom. all is a resolved with a big hug and a "y'know that papa's a big toughie, don't you june?"

("yes..." junie would reply, still catching her breath from all her crying earlier. "but none of this next time.")

when all is well and the rowdiness of the riley household has died down for the day, the missus can reward the big papa with some sweet lovin'

(the additional scar on his jaw is getting to her pussy :((( its making him all the more rugged under that blond stubble... perhaps baby no. 3 is in the making)

Anon, this is beautiful.

Doc and Junie have a tendency to call their peers knobheads when they get irritated and the missus bans Simon from using that word around them. It is ineffective.

Also, baby number 3 is conceived that very night that Simon gets back, and while he's away on assignment sometime later, his girls tell him that mum's been a little under the weather and kinda cranky when he does his daily check-in.

"She said the word today, papa!"

"...Oh? What word, June?" and she'll whisper, "Knobhead," all conspiratorial and shit 'cause who knows if Mum's around listening lmao.

He and the Missus talk later on and she rants about that one knobhead at the store and how the produce section really smelled something fierce today and then she stops mid-sentence like... "Oh... oh, bloody hell."

M'hm. 👀

Sometime later Simon gets a picture of multiple positive pregnancy tests and a text that reads, "This is all your fault. 🙃"

He'll happily take the blame for it. Junie and Doc have been asking for a little brother for some time now.