#and he dropped some bombs on me let me tell u

[beloveds-embrace]

https://www.tumblr.com/beloveds-embrace/769747896273862656/im-sorry-did-you-say-neglected-omega?source=share

You can't just drop that bomb on us. I feels like I should sue u for emotional damage

I very kindly request some fluff with this 🙏🙏

Can i be 🦋 anon? Pretty pretty please

if i got sued for emotional damage each time I fear i’d have to declare bankruptcy 😭 but ne ways, here you go 🦋 anon! <3

The room still smells faintly of a sour, lonely heat, even weeks later. No matter how many times Gaz scrubs the floors or Price washes the sheets (when you are not there yourself, with your own permission because for all that you wanted to just… keep them away, you had no strength or will to clean the room. That was the only inch you were willing to give), the scent lingers- a sharp reminder of everything they let happen.

Everything they let you go through alone.

They’re careful around you now. Slow. Quiet. Desperate not to spook you, not to push you any further away than they already have. But the distance is unbearable. It feels like walking on glass, and no matter how hard they try to reach you, you stay just out of reach.

So they simply try harder.

Price leaves things outside your door- practical, thoughtful things. Your favorite snacks, warm socks, a thermos of tea that stays hot for hours. Quiet gestures that let you know he’s paying attention. Sometimes he sits outside your room, low voice rumbling through the wood as he tells you about his day. Nothing important, just pieces of himself- things he’s never given anyone else.

Soap is softer, but more desperate.

He leaves drawings, slips them under your door like little apologies. Sketches of you smiling, of the pack piled together, happy and whole. There’s always a note attached.

I’m sorry, bonnie.

Please let me fix this.

And then one day, he spots one of them taped to your wall.

It’s small, but it’s something. It’s enough to lighten his heart just a little, giving him a sliver of hope.

Gaz doesn’t say much, but he does.

He cooks for you, warm homemade meals left outside your door. He waits, heart twisting every time the plate is left untouched. But then one morning, the food is gone, and he has to duck into an empty room so no one sees his reaction. He’d been so stressed seeing you thinner than he remembered, not eating as much as you should’ve, but he feels so, so much better when the plates he leaves you are cleared- eaten, and not just picked at.

Ghost doesn’t know how to fix this with words, so he doesn’t try. .

Instead, he sharpens your knives. Fixes the drafty window. Reinforces your bedframe even if all he wants is for you to return to them, to their nest. Leaves a scarf that smells like him. Little things, pieces of himself, pieces of his devotion.

Because even if you never let him close again, he needs you to know

He’s not leaving. He almost doubts himself, lets his fears cloud his judgement, until he sees the scarf around your neck one day.

It’s slow. God, it’s so slow, but they persist and don’t give up. Never even consider it for one precious second, not when it’s you they could lose.

But one night, Price finds you in the kitchen wearing his jacket.

You freeze when you see him, and for a second, he thinks you’ll run.

You stay.

“…It’s late.” You whisper, shuffling your feet. He smells your hesitance, your worries and fears, and hopes the distance he keeps soothes you. The thought of you feeling like that because of him… it leaves the taste of ash coating his throat.

“So it is.”

And yet, you don’t leave. You don’t push him away, or pull back when he slowly walks closer towards you. You just look at him, eyes tired and sad and-

It’s not forgiveness, when you let him gently caress the back of his hand against your cheeks.

But it’s a start.

[toxycodone]

Laois would be a stalker like prior to Falin being eaten, he's with her ALL THE TIME(even marcille) Shuro couldn't stand being his friend. You cannot tell me he wouldn't be borderline stalkerish. He would be the type to go and like ALL your posts n be like "yeah owo" hellokitty stalker vibes LOL he would collect little things that you've dropped n shit or take photos of u unknowningly

(if there was a 2nd part of this ask let me know bc. I saw it but I was unsure if it was about Laios or Kabru)

YOU’RE SO RIGHT.

Oh my GOD you meet him for the first time and yall exchange IGs and you wake up in the morning and there’s like 50+ notifications from Laios.

Bro went through your entire account like the evening news 💀 left his opinion on everything. Okay.

He’s the type to like and swipe up on every story you post with the most basic ass comment. And knowing him it’s never slang or anything it’s always “This was funny.” Or something HAHSVSJHDJD

He’s the first one to like/comment/etc on anything you post BECAUSE HE TURNED ON NOTIFCATIONS. “Whats wrong with that? I have notifications for Falin on too.” BRO WHY??? SHES YOUR SISTER PLUS SHE NEVER POSTS.

he love bombs without realizing. Oh my God.

And he takes photos under the guise of “haha I’m gonna be silly and show these to them later”. Until like. He doesn’t. He’s specifically trying to get good shots of you so he can stare at them later. And he’ll show Falin the creep shots and she’s just like “aw they’re cute” :)

What are some of the items you think he’d take….im thinking like. Shit he intends to “give back” because you “lost” it but. He doesn’t. he probably keeps like a used napkin or something because it smells like you or has your spit on it (I’m going to smoosh him with a rock)

[idesofrevolution]

The Journey of Dr. Santana Fabrega

There's nothing quite like your bro slobberin' over your sweaty feet while tokin' on a hookah. Let me just tell you- everybody's happy. I'm stoked to be stoned and minty fresh, and he's happy to taste my ripe size 12's. Who isn't the happiest? The folks. Sure, I dropped out of college, sure I started focusing one hundred percent on my art, sure I have a parade of guys out of my little basement lair... but I never got why they had to be such fuckin' buzzkills.

Ever since they joined that church when I was at uni, my parents have been sucked into the Evangelical cult. Not the whole lifting your hands up to Jesus & speaking in tongues sort of church, by the way. Man, they're out there with picket signs at sex clinics, bannin' books at the high school, all that crazy fuckin' Christian Nation bullshit. They're my parents, so I love 'em and whatever. But fuck, those psychos really fucked 'em up. So now, their crusade is "curing" me of my gayness. Didn't really matter that I'm pan, they don't really know the difference. They don't really care about the difference, though. Not straight, not right.

So when they caught me the other day with Sam cleanin' my dick in the basement, it was World War 3. Man, a Nuclear Bomb would have less energy than my mom's hysterical shrieking. It's Florida, so it's nothing the neighbors haven't heard before. But, shit. I thought my eardrums were gonna pop. They stomped off upstairs, bein' all 'we are going to talk about this later, Santiago.' So, I let Sammy finish up, I pulled on some shorts and I went upstairs to face the fire while he snuck out the basement window. Fuck, I wished I were him.

The 'family meeting' went about as well as you'd expect. Threats of burning in hell for all eternity, demands that I find the Lord, etc. Apparently he doesn't like a lot of things about me: my weed, my tattoos, my sexuality, my piercings, my hair for some reason? I don't know man, I just tuned out after a while. What I did catch, though, they were sending me to substance abuse counseling. Couldn't help but laugh, and that sent dad through the fuckin' roof.

"Doctor Fabrega is going to teach you some manners, young man. Make you a Godly man, like you should be." Yada yada yada. He should have known better than to give me the doc's name. After the ass reaming, I made my way back downstairs to the computer. It took five minutes of research to find this Doctor Fabrega. Turns out he's a Christian Therapist, but that wasn't what was most interesting. Down in his specializations, buried beneath substance abuse & cognitive behavioral therapy was a word that caught my eye: licensed Hypnotherapist.

I knew exactly what kind of bullshit they were tryin' to pull on me. But when I was enrolled at U Miami, my major was Psychology. Not only that, but I still happened to have access to the university library. Oops.

I texted Sammy, knowing I was gonna be up all night doing research, and that my dick would need some appropriate attention under the desk. I was gonna show this motherfucker just how sick it really is to be like me.

---

The waiting room was bullshit. Cold white walls, bright wood floors... It looked straight out of an IKEA ad. I'd already been there for like 20 minutes past my appointment time, giving me just enough time to scroll through the last chapter on my phone. I hear the receptionist call out my name, and I head toward the office. Just as bullshit as the waiting room. It's like the guy wants to live in a psych ward- no color anywhere. At least get a blacklight or something.

"Santiago Rivera. Welcome, I'm Dr. Fabrega." The guy was hot as fuck, not gonna lie. Looked like he was straight out of Sao Paulo- even with the fancy suit you can't hide muscle like that. "Please, sit. It's so good to meet you." His voice was so weird. Speaking every word with like, perfect diction. You know those AI voices that talk that way? That's what it was like, as if he were trying so hard to hide an accent underneath.

"Just call me Santi, doc." I plopped down on the leather chair, might have put my feet up on his coffee table (don't recall), and he just looked at me like he was looking in a microscope. No idea what the deal was. He walked over to the couch and sat down with my file and started to drone on.

"Alright, Santi, it says here that your parents are pretty concerned about your behavior lately. You're 23 years old and a college dropout, you take illicit drugs, you have no job, and you're having unnatural thoughts. That's quite the list, bud." He was so fuckin smug, that sort of punchable glibness that only comes from a particular kind of self righteousness. Like Jesus himself came down and kissed them.

"So, first off. I did drop out of college, because I couldn't afford it. Second, I sure the fuck do smoke green because it's a) fun, and b) prescribed to me by my real doctor. Third, I do have a job. I do graphic design and graffiti art and I pay my own bills with it. And last off, yup: I fucked him." He sat there, somehow shocked that I told him how it was right off the bat. I'm not playing his little game, and that made him angry.

"I see. So you have no remorse for any of this? I believe your parents are very right to be concerned about where your life is headed."

"Fascinating, considering I'm moving out at the end of the month and they won't need to deal with my life. So. You married?" He was thrown off by that, just as I'd hoped. Right out of the blue. Knocks them off kilter for a second. An easy question to answer, so they usually do.

"Uh, well, no I'm not married. Is that your concern in all this?" Man, I couldn't help but laugh. He's trying to be sarcastic?

"Where did ya go to school for... whatever this is." This made him close my file, he even put it on the table and crossed his arms.

"I went to Liberty University, top of my class in their Doctor of Psychology program. You, it seems didn't make it that far, so you might not know what 'this' is." Oooh, he's big mad. I thought, let's push it. I did what most of my guys love, but would piss him off, I kicked off the Vans. Made sure I wore my skating shoes that day, the super ripe ones with the same damp socks. When they came off, those puppies let their presence be known.

"Sounds boring. Boring then, boring now. I got accepted into the Art Institute in Savannah, so I'll be headed that way soon. Be legit soon, then you wouldn't have anything to say. How's your sex life?" He thought he was so tough, not flinching at the musk, nor my question. But I knew both hit him right where I wanted. The question to make him mad, the stink to get him hot.

"Santiago, I think we should continue with our session. You can put your shoes back on and we can try some exercises to help you think a bit more clearly." I crossed my ankles, wriggling my toes a bit.

"I think they need some air. Are you gonna try and hypnotize me now? Or is that the last ditch effort when everything else fails?" He leaned back in his seat, the grimace growing stronger. "That stuff is not that hard to master. A couple days really and you got it down."

"Is that so?" He ground his teeth as he spat out his words. "It seems you know all there is to know, then." Time to hit it home.

"You know what, let's put money on it, doc. Hundred bucks says I can put you under." I got him, his eyebrow shifted just enough for me to see.

"This isn't a casino, Santiago. I don't bet money on client's health." I couldn't help but smirk. He left an opening I couldn't pass up.

"Aight, no money then. If I put you under, I get the bragging rights. If I don't, I'll play your stupid games. Win-win for you, nothing to lose but your dignity." Hook, line and sinker; he leaned in, grabbing the remote on the table next to him. He tapped a button, and the shades started to come down.

"Well then, Mr. Rivera. I wish you luck."

The room got dark. Really fuckin' dark. Fabrega hit another button on the remote, and a cool blue washed over the room. Gotta say, tight LED system. I kicked my shoes off the table, and scooted my chair forward. Showtime.

"Alright, Santana, I want you to just take deep breaths." He squirmed at my use of his first name, one last dig before I brain fucked him. He took his deep breaths one at a time, slowly getting deeper and deeper. "As I count down from one to ten, each number will bring you closer and closer to relaxation. Picture a long tunnel, at the end, a bright white light. With every number, you take a step forward to the light, do you understand?"

He nodded, it was an induction I'd made up this morning. I started from 10, telling him his first step he could feel the tingling relaxation in the tips of his fingers, slowly crawling up his hands and forearms. 9. Another step, the tingling creeps up his big muscly arms and shoulders. 8. One more step, the tingling is pushing up his neck and throat, reaching his tongue and teeth. 7. The tingling bursts into his head, a paradoxical rush of relaxation, a fog of dissonance washes over his brain as thoughts collide and crash about. 6. The tingling washes down his spine, flowing through his nerves into every part of his body. His body feels electric, a painless jolt running throughout him. I watched as he tensed up, his big muscles contracting and bunching him up. It was working.

We get to 5, starting at the crown of his head, the volts decrease, turning lugubrious and liquified like molasses sloshing about in his head. 4. The light is so close he can feel the heat, but his body is cooled as the syrupy fluid flows down over him like a waterfall, pooling in his big feet as it fills every crevice. 3. It feels as if he's trudging through mud toward the light, his legs feeling wobbly and gelatinous. 2. So close, his whole body feels like a massless blob, inching toward the final drop into the cavernous light. 1. He crawls toward the ledge, plummeting down into the endless void of bright white light. There, he will sit as I have a little bit of fun.

"Alright, Santana. Can you hear me in there?" Fabrega nods, expressionless. Fuck, that was maybe a 80/20 chance I was gonna fuck this shit up so bad. But I guess God really is on my side here. "Whenever I ask a question, you will answer truthfully. Whatever I say you will incorporate into your life. Now, Santana, what do you do when you're not at work?" His lips moved slowly and replied in monotone.

"I go to the gym, I go to the golf course, I hire my date, and I go home." Ooooh shit. He's giving my friends on the corners a decent living, good for him. Hardly a Godly thing to do. Either way, it was a perfect place to start.

"You love going to the gym, don't you, Santana?" He nodded. "You love gettin' all sweaty don't you?" His head began to shake, his expression furrowing a bit in disgust. "No, Santana. You love getting all sweaty. The feeling of those cool droplets on your hot muscles during a hard workout? Doesn't it feel good?" He pauses, before reluctantly nodding. Ahh I love gettin my fingers in his brain, never ceases to please. "You love that funk that comes off your sweat, Santana. You love sniffin your pits, your big feet, your balls... That musk means you're workin' hard. Keeping in shape. Staying virile. Isn't that right?" He nodded, squirming in the chair. I watched his body try to reject the instructions, try to rebel, but just one repetition had his back to stillness.

"You don't even like golf, do you?" He nodded, I didn't even need to manipulate him. "You much prefer hitting the beach, don't you? Seein' all the guys and gals starin' at your glorious bod... You love it, don't you?" He nodded, the side of his lip curling ever so slightly. "You love bringing out the speedo, letting the goods hang low, letting the buns bulge... you know they all wanna see it anyway..." He nodded again, it was like taking candy from a baby. The guy had the mental fortitude of a frog.

"You like fucking, too. You can have any girl or guy on the street with a single wink." He nodded, and I couldn't help but watch as his groin started to bulge. "Yeah, boy. You love taking that horse cock and plowing it into some ass... plowing it into some pussy... fucking their pretty little mouths..." Drool started to drip from the corner of his lip, and a little wet spot quickly appeared on his pants. "You're a freak, aren't you, Santana? You like fuckin' in the car, in the sauna, at the gym, under the desk... gushing gallons into them while you shove your sneaker on their face." He was moaning, slowly grinding against the open air. Can't lie, I was gropin' myself a bit just watching him.

"Now, Santana. I'm going to bring you back to your office, but when I do, you are going to be super laid back and chill with Santi during your sessions. If he says the word 'sniff' you will return to this space, return to an open mind, just as we have done here today. Do you understand?" He nodded one final time before I began his emergence. Counting back from one to ten, I watched as he slowly came back to the real world, and with one snap, he blinked his eyes and wiped his brow.

"Well, doc. I got the bragging rights." Fabrega pinched the bridge of his nose, as if he had a headache. Time to see if it had all paid off.

"Uhh... yeah... Santi. You got me there..." Perfect. He pulled his hand away from his nose, clicking the shades back up to their little hole. It didn't take long until he saw the wet patch on his bulbous package. He chuckled under his breath. "You'll have to excuse the mess, Santi... I have hyperspermia, so sometimes it all just flows out." Hot- and totally unprofessional. Just how I like 'em. I leaned back in my chair, smirkin' the whole way.

"Damn, doc. Firehose down there. Gonna have to show me sometime." He smirked and waved me off.

"I don't fraternize with clients, Santi. Oh, look at the time. I'm late for my 5:30. Alright, I'll see you next week." He stood up, extending his hand, his whole demeanor entirely changed. I slipped my Vans back on, spitting on my hand before gripping his. He shuddered a bit, sure. But we were gonna get real close, real quick.

---

The next few days flew by. My folks were so excited to see that I was looking forward to seeing Dr. Fabrega, and I loved knowing what they didn't. I was excited to see if Dr. Fabrega was gonna be Santana. So when I finally got back in for my appointment, I didn't need to wait long at all. Only five minutes and the door swung open, the receptionist completely flustered. The anticipation was killing me. She sat down behind her computer with tunnel vision and I walked into the office.

At first, I thought it was empty. He wasn't sitting at his desk, on the couch... but as I heard huffing from the balcony, I knew where to find him. I walked up to the sliding glass door, and turned outside to see one hell of a sight.

It was Santana. Nothing on but his whitie-tighties and his damp socks doing pushups on the bench. Fuck, those muscles were glistening in the light, his underwear with damp patches on his ass and bulge. His clothes sat in a pile near his head: jeans, a Miami Heat jersey, some sick dunks I wanted to steal... far from the stuffy suit he had on just the week before. He finally noticed me, and smiled.

"Santi! Hey! Just finishing up my lunch workout. Thought I'd get a session in today on the balcony. Damn, the fresh air is good for exercise!" I smirked. It was night and day. So far, gone was the bible thumping hypocrite, and here was what was underneath. If anything I was doing him a service.

"Shit, Santana! You're looking prime today. You gonna funk out our session today, or?" I punched him in the shoulder, and he giggled like a kid.

"It's eau naturale, my friend. Natural water. That's what it smells like." He slipped on his jeans and his big fuckin' sneakers, tossing the jersey over his head while we walked in. He trailed some deliciously ripe musk, and I couldn't help but savor a bit of it. We plopped down on our seats, and just started shootin' shit. I bitched about the parents, he bitched about his receptionist, I told him about Sammy suckin' my dick clean, and he told me about the threesome with a gym bro and his girlfriend. He was coming along beautifully. Though, I thought to myself, how's about a round two?

"Dude, by the way, those kicks are fuckin' tight." I pointed to the dunks, which he smugly kicked up onto the coffee table, showing them off.

"Thanks, man. They're the lifting shoes. My work boots, heh." I reached out, grabbing ahold of his foot, and yanked it off. He chuckled like a fuckin' idiot while I looked at 'em. Size 13, nice and big- and the smell wafting out of there... Fuck, man.

"Damn, dude you never wash your socks? These stink!" I playfully tossed the shoe at him, and just as he started to brush off the comment, I said my magic word. "Sniff it." Like a flipped lightswitch, his expression turned numb, slowly bringing the shoe to his nose and inhaling his own musk. I clapped my hands, rubbing them together: let's do a little more programming.

"Santana, You're a pretty chill guy, you know that?" He nodded. "You smoke, don't you? You know, the good shit?" Deep in his mind, he had to know it was me talking at this point, so I was talking to him like a bro. Establishes trust, ya know? He shook his head no. "Ahh, come on man. You love kickin' back and toking on that reefer after a long workout." Santana chuckled a bit, before nodding, still nose deep in his sneaker. "Yeah, you love smokin' out your bros, your babes... when you're not shootin' tequila!" He full out laughed on that one, nodding along. The sneaker slowly dropped from his hand, and he laid back in his chair.

"How old are you, Santana?"

"28." Shit, he was only a few years older than me. I mean, he looked young. But hell, you wouldn't have known it from the way he acted.

"Where are you from?" "Rio de Janeiro." Interesting. I clocked the accent. I was pretty proud of myself.

"Why do you try so hard to hide it? The way you talk, the way you dress, the way you act... You act like you're from Ohio." Another chuckle, I should have had a Netflix special. "You're gonna embrace that Brazilian pride, bro. Don't hide it for some mayo drinking buzzkills!" He furrowed his brow, nodding intently. This one was for his own fuckin' good. Be proud of that shit! "You should get some ink to really embrace it. Nothin' sexier than a tatted up stud, am I right?" He nodded again, his bulge once more springing to life. I smirked, simply wanting to know a little something somethin'.

"Do you think Santi is hot?" He sat there for a second, before slowly smiling and nodding. I didn't even need to program that one. Aww, big old himbo. "You're not afraid to let him know, are ya? I mean if you tell his crazy fuckin' parents that he's cured... He wouldn't be your patient anymore... Right?" His bulge twitched again, and he smirked devilishly as he nodded. "You like it when he's all up in your brain, don't you? You like it when he gets his dick deep in there and mind fucks you into a chill, laid back stud. Don't ya?" The dampness grew and his breath got heavy. He nodded, drooling down the sides of his cheeks. "Yeah, you wanna let him in completely, don't ya? Make you like him?" Moans grew, and his thrusting in the air quickened pace. "You wanna be best bros with him, don't ya? Bros with benefits... hangin' out, smokin' weed, hittin' the clubs, swappin' spit... swappin' cum... swappin' subs..." He started fuckin' howl. He was beggin' to splurge. "When I tell you, you will cum. And when you do, everything we talked about will be your truth. Now... Cum."

His eyes opened, still moaning loudly. He gripped onto his jeans, pulling down the waistband and underwear, that big old uncut donkey dick flopping out before shooting his load all over himself. Volley after volley. He wasn't kidding about the hyperspermia: maybe four double shots of his spunk sprayed like a geyser into the air. The 8th Natural Wonder of the World. He laid back and chuckled, throwing his arms behind his head.

"Fuck, brother!" The thickest accent flowed of those lips, deliciously thick. "After today, that'll be down your throat, cara." He pointed at me, hopping to his feet and shoving his python back into his pants. "So, I'll write your discharge papers, it'll get the pais off your back. Act the part until you're out, and just go live." Fuck yeah, we high fived, and I ruffled that sweaty mullet of his. "Hey, come over tonight. I got some friends comin' over... if you and Sammy wanna join." He winked and slapped my back. Damn, I did good.

"I'll be there, man! You save me a round so I can show you how to clean this dick." I groped my bulge, smirking as his bit his lip and winked. I've created a monster.

---

"Ei, sexy! Come get a toke before it's gone!" Such a demanding little bitch, I love him. I slipped his filled condom off my cock, the kinky fucker insisted, and I happily complied. If I'm being real, this psycho has taught me things! I flushed it down the toilet, and swung the bathroom door open to see him lounging on his bed, toking away at the blunt I packed.

"Hey you fuckin' hog, don't you smoke it all!" He chuckled dumbly, reaching over to hand me the blunt, taking the opportunity to snatch my wrist and pull me forward into a kiss. Fuck those lips were so good, pressed against mine or around my cock. "Isn't Carrie coming over soon? You gonna be able to get off so quick?" I pushed away, taking my puff.

"Ahh, plenty to go around, eh?" He groped that musky bulge that I had a feeling Sammy would be huffing later. "Ey, bring me my pants. We can go get a shot before she gets here." Heh, the last month or so crashing with him has been fuckin' sick. The folks think I'm rooming with some guy from the church, when really I'm gooning with my therapist every night in his bed. Savannah is letting me take online courses, I'll have my B.A. in a couple of years, and I'm already getting some gallery hits. Santana is gonna be my armcandy for the opening, and I told him to forget his deodorant. Fuck he’s perfect. But a thought had crept in my head the other day. One last program, one final idea planted in his head... Though, at this point, there was no need to put him under. I'd just ask him.

"Hey, so I gotta go to Georgia to finish up some paperwork at the school. It got me thinking... I'm followin' my dream. What about you?" I tossed him his pants and passed the blunt, taking a deep whiff of those ripe dunks before throwing them his way too.

"I could go back to the practice, though I think the bible thumpers would lose their minds, heh."

"Well... What we did for eachother... What if you did it for others?" I slowly got down to my knees, a smirk crawling across my face. "What if you could help those poor... misguided young men change their lives?" I crawled toward him, spreading his legs wide as I tossed his legs over my shoulders. "Wouldn't that be so... so... fun?" I slowly pulled down his musky briefs, releasing his monstrous cock again, the musky hooded beast slapping me on my cheek. "Then, we could have so... many... new.. friends..." I pulled down his slimy hood and wrapped my lips around his tip. I should have known better. His hand grabbed the back of my head, slamming it down onto his spear, my nose buried in his bush as he thrust back and forth into my mouth.

"Unff... Yeah, brother... Oh yeah... That sounds like a good... unhhhhh... good idea." Grunting, slapping, moaning, slurping... it all rang out in his room, until he gushed another thick load down my throat. "You wanna join me?" And in that moment, I smiled. It was the best idea he'd had yet.

[midnightsnyx]

girl at home | mat barzal | part 9

pairing: mat barzal x fem!reader

warnings: angst, mentions of pregnancy, not edited word count: 2.1k authors note: i am back with a little less brain!! (literally) it took me a bit to start writing again cause I had some slowness on my right side so I wasn't quite up to writing. BUT i hope you guys like p9 and thank you so much for the continuous love on this story <3 the first bit is marlee's POV and after the * it's back to readers pov. hope u all like & pls lmk what you think <3

masterlist masterpost ask box

MARLEE

Marlee Jones loved her job. It was something she took pride in; helping bring new lives into the world and being there for all the mamas. Of course there were always the hard days, the days that made her hug Stella a little tighter when she got home from a shift. Her job had its ups and downs, but at the end of the day, she wouldn’t want to do anything else. 

So, her panic is warranted when she comes across a certain patient file. She wasn’t looking for it, but when her eyes caught the name and there weren’t any other people nearby, she couldn’t help herself. It’s against HIPAA, and if anybody found out, she would be fired without question but she slipped the file in between a couple others and walked to a random supply closet. She closed and locked the door behind her before pulling the file out and opening it. Her eyes quickly scanned the pages, the words Hysterical Pregnancy making her heart race. She had to double check the name on the file twice, before believing it. 

She knew that someone would notice the missing file, so she quickly found a printer and copied the pages, tucking them in her tote bag and putting the file exactly where it was. 

Nobody would know.

*

Your first instinct is to calm Marlee down. Her panicking is making you panic and at least one of you needs to keep a straight head. You’re trying to let her words sink in without letting your mind go down a rabbit hole. You need to see all the facts before letting yourself do that.

“Marlee,” you reach out to grab her shaking hands. “What happened?”

She looks up at you and takes a deep breath. “I can’t- I can’t tell you the details but she’s not pregnant. She lied, and it’s already caused so much damage between you, and Mat and Liana… and Nora.” She pulls her hands away from yours and buries her face in them.

You decide not to remind her that Mat already fucked things up before Calista dropped the baby bomb on him because she knows that. Focus on one disaster at a time. 

Calista lied about being pregnant. Mat doesn’t know this, and even if you try to tell him, you have no idea how he’ll react. Really, it’s none of your business and you can very well go on with your life because Mat has let you know loud and clear what his feelings are. He wants Calista in his life despite you not wanting her in Nora’s life. He technically has no rights, no say in what happens but when he first found out about her and asked to be in her life, you’d so desperately wanted to let him. 

“How long can she pull off this lie until he finds out the truth?” you ask quietly and she lifts her head from her hands.

“Depends,” she mumbles.

“On what?”

“How deep she has him pulled into her fantasy.”

. . .

You let Nora spend a little more time with Stella, mainly wanting her to burn as much energy from the sugar high she’s on from the ice-cream. She’s sleepy when you buckle her in her carseat and you’re pretty sure she’s asleep but she mumbles something and you look to see her looking at you with droopy eyes.

“What was that?” you ask softly.

She looks down, avoiding eye contact with you which is worrisome. 

“Do you think Mat would want to see me?” she whispers. “Without her?”

She obviously doesn’t need to clarify who she's referring to and it breaks your heart that a six-year-old has to worry about things like this. 

“I can ask,” you tell her, unsure why she wants to see him suddenly. “You don’t have to go see Mat if you don’t want to, baby.”

By now, you’re pulling into your driveway so you can turn the jeep off and turn to give her your full attention. She still won’t look at you so you reach out and tap on her leg until she looks up. 

“I want to,” she says but doesn’t elaborate so you don’t push. 

“Okay, I’ll call him tomorrow.”

She just nods and starts to unbuckle her seatbelt so you get out and help her. She doesn’t complain when you carry her inside, helping her change into pajamas and brush her teeth. When she asks if she can watch a movie before bed, you don’t have the heart to deny her, even though it’s close to her bedtime so you set her up on the couch and put her favorite movie on. She’ll be out like a light in less than twenty minutes so while you’re waiting, you grab your phone and pull up Mat’s contact. Your finger hovers over the call option but you’re not sure you want to talk to him over the phone so you go into your text messages instead. The last messages between the two of you were when you last met up and even then they were short and to the point which makes this text easily simple.

To Mat: Nora wants to see you.

You lay your phone on the counter and get a glass of water while waiting for his response. You’re unnecessarily nervous, mainly because you are expecting him to start an argument the moment you tell him that Nora doesn’t want Calista to be there. You don’t even feel comfortable letting Mat see her because of what he said, but you can’t turn her request down. Not when she was so adamant about not wanting to see him, and out of the blue deciding that she does. 

When you check on Nora while waiting for a response, she’s asleep so you pick her up and carry her to bed. You spend a minute just watching her after you’ve tucked her in. You’re desperate to see what’s going on in that little head of hers.

Just as you walk back to the kitchen, your phone buzzes and you freeze. Maybe messaging Mat tonight was a bad idea, and you should’ve just waited until tomorrow. It’s too late now though so you walk over and look to see Mat’s name and an unread message. 

From Mat: ok

From Mat: when?

It bothers you, how nonchalant he’s acting after everything that’s happened. This is about Nora though, so you take a breath and try to decide on a date.

To Mat: Sunday?

From Mat: ok

You want to scream at him and take back the offer but remind yourself again that Nora explicitly asked to see him and it’s her decision to make. 

So, you set up a place and time and tell him that she doesn’t want to see Calista. You expect him to argue, but he responds with another simple ok, and that’s that. 

. . .

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Marlee asks, crossing her arms and glaring at Mat who’s sitting on a bench at the park you agreed to meet at. The two of you are standing outside her jeep, stalling a little before going over there. 

Nora asked if Stella could come to the park too and Marlee was pulling out of her driveway before you could finish asking. You’re a little worried that she’s going to yell at Mat, but you figure with the kids there, she will contain herself unless he says something out of line.

“Nora asked to see him,” you remind her but she just grumbles something under her breath. 

You’re ready to get this over with so you open the door and let Nora and Stella climb out of the jeep. Normally, they would race to the playground but Nora is hesitating, glancing over to where Mat is. He hasn’t noticed that you’re here yet which is good, because you are about five seconds away from just putting the kids back in and driving away. 

Nora sighs quietly before walking over to Mat. You and Marlee hang back a little but Stella grabs her hand and sticks close to her. 

When Mat sees her, his face lights up and for a second, you want to forgive him so everything can go back to how it was before. You can’t though, not when what he said is still so fresh and not when you know about Calista’s lies.

“Hey peanut,” he says softly, staying seated while Nora stands in front of him, looking down and scuffing her shoe on the gravel. He looks at you when she doesn’t say anything but you just shrug even though you’re confused. You’re about to ask Nora if she wants to just go to the playground when she breaks her silence.

“Are you not my daddy?” she asks quietly and it takes you off guard. You had this conversation with her, assuring her that Calista was lying but she must want to hear it from Mat.

“What?” he asks, looking at you before turning his attention back to her.

“Calista told me that you’re not my daddy,” she says more firmly, finally looking up at him. Her arms are crossed and she’s glaring at him. You’d be impressed if you weren’t so worried about what Mat may say.

His mouth opens and closes a couple times and he looks like a fish out of water. He looks at you again, as if he’s expecting you to step in but you just raise an eyebrow at him as if to say I told you so.

“I think she was confused-” he begins to say which is absolutely the wrong thing to say because it sets Nora off. 

She stomps her foot and her glare hardens. “No! She said that mommy lied and that you’re not really my daddy. She told me that I don’t have a daddy.”

Before he can say anything, she’s storming off toward the playground, Stella chasing after her. 

“Do I need to say I told you so?” you ask sharply, now that the kids are out of hearing range.

“You just did,” he mumbles and Marlee, who has been quiet up until now, steps towards Mat.

“You’re a piece of work,” she snaps and Mat looks at her confused. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Do I need to repeat myself?” she says, and you’re more than happy to let her say what’s on her mind. 

“You’re letting your girlfriend tell your daughter that you’re not her father, and instead of comforting Nora, you’re trying to defend your girlfriend!” 

For a moment, you’re scared Marlee is going to get angry enough that she’ll tell him the truth about Calista, but she takes a deep breath and turns away to go to where the girls are playing. You watch her walk over until she reaches them before turning back to Mat. 

He’s staring at the ground and you don’t know why you’re still standing here but you guess you’re just waiting for Mat to say something.

“I fucked up,” he eventually mumbles and you scoff. 

“When did you come to that brilliant conclusion?” 

There’s the tiniest part of you that wants to bring up Calista, just to see if he’ll tell you anything but you’re not sure you’re in the mood to hear about her. Not when you know the truth. 

“Liana is mad at me,” he tells you, which is news, because you thought she was just angry at you. 

“I can’t imagine why.”

You look back at Nora, smiling when you see her laughing. She looks more like herself, rather than the gloomy kid she’s been the past couple days since she asked to see Mat. Like she got what was bothering her off her tiny shoulders. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Mat doing the same but his smile isn’t as real. If you weren’t still angry at him, you’d feel bad but you can’t let go of what he said and the fact that he tried again to defend Calista. 

“She’s a good kid,” he says softly and you hum in agreement. 

“Did you know?” he asks, “that she was going to say that?”

“No,” you tell him. It’s not a lie - she didn’t tell you why she wanted to see Mat, and you didn’t want to push. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, but you shake your head and look directly at him.

“Sorry isn’t going to fix it this time. Marlee was right, instead of apologizing to Nora, who deserves to hear that more than me, you won’t stop making excuses for Calista,” you tell him. “I don’t know what you’re expecting from Nora and I, but sorry isn’t the answer.” 

He frowns, but nods, seemingly accepting your response. You leave it at that and walk over to where Nora, Stella, and Marlee are, grinning when your daughter reaches for you. She hugs you when you pick her up and when you look back at the bench Mat was sitting at, he’s already gone.

tag list: @literatureluster @dasiysthings @barzyblogbabe @diary-of-jj @heatherawoowoo @fallinallincurls @lovinbarzal @whatthepuckisgoingon @teapartydreams @alilstressyandlotdepressy @keiva1000 @hischiershoe @bellstwd @alwaysclassyeagle @brrbrina @nonsensical-nonsence

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[angelicsjn]

how'd your yanderes react if their darling is so stressed they become su!c!d@l (either because of them or something else, but please do 'because of them for jae coz i wanna see that todic little shit suffer)?

YOUR SEVEN YANDERES.

A N: I am trying to fly through these old requests, I have about 38 to complete — I deleted loads of requests that were similar to each other so I don't feel swamped and give up, lmao.

A B O U T: You have had enough of them and their ways, but at what cost?

W A R N I N G S: Mentions of suicide, angst, and heavy topics based around mental health such as depression. Read with caution, stay safe, and remember that you are not alone.

— ROMAN BEAUREGARD.

With Roman, it would derive from the fact that he has made you become dependant on him.

When given that space away, for how many weeks or months, you feel at a literal loss. And then that's when it sinks in.

You can't live without him.

You would miss that routine, miss him telling you what to do, who you can't go out with, clothes to wear that makes him look good or to match, you miss the stability of his control.

With him gone, you have nothing but your own mind. But your mind became his, even if you dont realise it.

"I'm struggling, Roman." You say down the phone, voice as shaky as your hands. "I need you."

His heart swells with a mixture of emotions. First, happiness. He likes that you need him. He feels important because of it. But he also feels upset because he wants you there, too. Deep down, he needs you just as much as you need him.

He will have you take over to him, where he will cover himself over you until you feel better — he's never been so attentive in his life.

— LATEN REED.

It would be his constant need of being there.

Everywhere you go, he follows. Everywhere he needs to go, so do you. Every game. Every practice. Every party. Everything.

You have no breathing space, no time to be yourself and alone.

One day, you crack. It drives you to literally insanity.

"Just leave me the fuck alone!" You scream, eyes red and streaming hot angry tears.

He stands there watching you with wide eyes. He doesn't get what he did wrong, he's just trying to be a good boyfriend?

"You're always there. Always. It makes me want to fucking kill myself!" You scream out in a fit of rage.

His heart drops.

He made you want to ... die?

Laten sucks it up and attempts to hold back the tears. He can't let it be known that it affected him that much.

"I'm sorry. I'll leave you alone." And he does.

He doesn't attend parties for a while, and when he does, he looks down. You don't go to practice, he doesnt wait outside of your class until you finish, he stops it all.

He only sees you when you initiate it. He withdraws, and though he doesn't want to end it, he believes that you're done with him.

He's waiting for you to drop the bomb break his heart.

— JAE 'NIKO' LEE.

I'm sorry. But with Jae. It's inevitable.

He's too much to handle, it's bound to happen at some point.

You withdraw socially, you look different, you don't eat, you have pretty much no life because of him.

You fall into a lull of the same shit every day, and at some point, you don't feel like you're even living at all.

You don't even cry anymore. He shouts, you're glazed over and you don't even hear him.

He thinks that he's won until he sees the destruction, and thank God that it wasn't too late.

After the incident, he tries so hard because he realises that you are fragile. You can't handle him. He attempts to be kinder, to keep in touch with his softer side for the sake of you.

But he watches you sometimes and sees nothing there.

— KAIDAN WOLFE.

"Why do you want to die?" He asks you, your diary in his hand.

You panic a little. That's your privacy in his hand. The only bit you had left.

Kaidan cries, so hard, "i can't lose you."

But he doesn't see that's it's him that pushes you towards that mentality.

The constant brain-fucking or his delusions drove you to just wanting to give up. What's the point when he doesnt listen anyway?

He keeps that up even after reading about it in your diary because he doesn't see that the problem lies between you both.

It's always something else. You two are too perfect.

— HAYDEN WEST.

Hayden wouldn't do anything to make you feel this way, so I doubt it applies to him. Anything you want, you have.

So, maybe it's your mental health.

He will Google ways to help. Use his own experiences to make you feel better.

He does all he can to help you be okay, to not feel the way that you have been.

— JOSHUA WHITE.

Just like Hayden, he wouldn't ever do anything to push you in that direction.

When he sees your struggles mentally, he takes extra time with you.

Take baths together, cuddle extra before bed, take more walks together, go to church together, and involve you in the community to belong somewhere kind.

He wants you happy and safe, so he treats you as such, keeping an eye on you and being there to listen when needed.

— BLAKE CROSS.

His life is hectic. Always something going on and that can become a lot, especially if you deal with bad mental health.

Blake may be as forward and vocal as the other yanderes, but he wouldnt ever push you towards doing and thinking of such things.

He cares deeply and knows when to back down with you, unlike others. He couldn't give a shit about others — but you? You're his world.

When he sees that everything is becoming too much, he takes a step back and puts himself into your shoes.

He's never been suicidal. Never wanted to do such things. So he doesnt get it. But he sees the pain that you feel and it kills him.

He will go on a trip with you, somewhere nice to refresh and escape a little. You can focus on each other and ignore the world.

When you're back, he's delicate and asks you what you want to do. Not tell you that you're going to join him.

[sluttyminghao]

by the pool | lee chan

brothers bestfriend!chan x female!reader ; 1k ; smut ; warnings: pool setting, public indecency, public teasing, slight thigh riding, chan knows where the clit is, chan is a cocky mf ; a/n: chanrot go brrrr, if you want a second part let me know! thank u to @playmetheclassics for brainstorming with me hehe

you couldn't stop staring at him. you knew he was fit, but you didn't know the true extent of it until he had stripped his body of the loose-fitting shirt. the way his back muscles rippled underneath the pale flesh, it made your mouth water.

but there was no way you would initiate anything with him. he was your brother's best friend and would most likely beat your ass if you so much as kissed his cheek. you can't fall in love with lee chan, you simply can't.

or maybe you can, and he doesn't have to know.

"Hey! Take a picture, it'll last longer sweetheart," a cheeky voice erupts through your thoughts and you realize that not only had you been spacing out, but you had been spacing out and staring directly at Chan. you feel your cheeks burn and have to hide behind a book, hoping he doesn't notice how you press your thighs together.

But he does notice. He takes the time while you're distracted by your book to gawk at your legs, and how long they appear with the way you're laying on the chair. Chan doesn't stop there, he makes a point of eyeing off your tits, the thin material covering them only driving him closer to the edge of insanity.

Chan can feel his cock twitch. He's got half a mind to tell everyone else at the pool to fuck off so he can get you in here and fuck you stupid.

"Lunch is ready! Come and get it!" Seungcheol's booming voice cascades over the backyard and everyone leaves the pool and poolside in droves, however, you stay on your chair and simply put your book down and place your hair into a high ponytail.

"Are you going to get some lunch?" Chan observes you intently as you slowly make your way to the pool, feeling his cock twitch again as he watches your beautiful figure grow closer to the edge of the pool.

"I'm not hungry just yet, I figured I would swim a bit before heading in and getting something later." You reply, letting your toe dip into the water to get a feel of the temperature. Without hesitating further, you dive bomb into the pool, a large wave coming up around you and in the process, splashing Chan.

He splutters and coughs, but quickly adjusts himself as you emerge from under the water. His eyes widen at the sight of you, your bikini top had come undone from the intensity of hitting the water, and your tits are exposed for his view.

"God, they're perfect," Chan mumbles, and when you finally realize what had occurred, you felt your cheeks burn and your arms immediately come up to cover your chest. You can feel your nipples harden up from the coolness of the water, and you can feel a warmth in your stomach you can't quite identify, but you're pretty sure it's being caused by the lustful stare radiating from Chan.

"Don't hide them, I wanna see you. I wanna see all of you." His voice has dropped an octave and his body begins to cage you in against the side of the pool, feeling the concrete scrape against your back. You swallow the lump in your throat as he rests his arms on the pool edge, and he's close enough that you can smell his musky cologne, mixed with chlorine.

He doesn't hesitate to press his lips to yours, and you immediately melt into his touch. You can taste the cherry lollipop he'd been sucking on earlier, as well as the slightly salty taste of the chlorine, and while it's an odd mixture, it's also weirdly addicting.

With his lips on yours, he lets one of his hands wander to your breasts and begins to squeeze lightly at the flesh. He feels you gasp against his lips, and takes the opportunity to slip his tongue against your own quickly, before retracting and letting his lips press to yours again.

In the midst of your haze, you can feel Chan's muscular leg slide between your thighs, and the friction of his leg mixed with the water sends a shockwave of electricity sparking through your body, igniting every nerve and lighting your body on fire.

"I need to fuck you, so bad, but not here," he mumbles as he slightly pulls away from your lips, one of his hands dropping from your tits down to where your bikini bottom starts, letting his fingers tease the edge of the fabric.

"I want you to fuck me until all I can say is your name," you moan, feeling his fingers slip past the flimsy fabric and graze against your folds. He groans at your statement and lets his fingers find your clit, his fingers circling the nub until you're gripping his shoulders and definitely leaving crescent marks on his skin.

"God, okay, let's get out of here, I need you so bad," Chan whispers in your ear and sends shivers down your spine. He pulls his fingers away from you and you suddenly feel much colder, but he quickly ushers you out of the pool and wraps a towel around you.

You don't feel cold for long though, because Chan stands behind you and wraps an arm around your waist, and his head drops so that he can plant teasing kisses along your neck.

You can feel the arousal pooling in your abdomen and in your bikini bottoms, and it doesn't help that he lets his hands wander again until they're just grazing your clit over the fabric. You gasp and throw him a warning glare, to which he can only chuckle.

"relax, baby, let's go back to my place and I'll fuck you so dumb you won't even remember my name."

[rottweiler1]

❝𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧' 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭, 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝.❞

pairing: 141 x male!reader and maybe some los vaqueros + others

summary: the 141 needed a helping hand to protect the world, only 4 wasn't enough. they decided for a interesting 5th member. and seemingly, the 141's other allies were also intrigued.

word count: 962 (i told u so!!)

cw: violence, normal cod gore, angst, poorly translated scottish from google,

update: enemy dynamics (ghost and dino), some flustered soap + gaz + ghost

A/N: more information is that i might just pose 1 time a day or 2 times a day or none at all, really. i have a lot of drafts saved for this series but its only up to part 1 part 2 and part 3, enjoy though! -rottweiler

2/?

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

The boys stared up at the man with adornment, amazement, and.. annoyed. Simon was the one annoyed at this point, who was this man taking away his title of the Cold, Dark stoned man who could crack your skull in a bliss? Well a man who encountered Dino before and beated him in almost a bunch of combat when still in selection with Dino. Gaz and soap looked at each other and ran to the tall man, shouting out questions and.. some curious touching. 2 men were childish enough to do this.  Price stared and sighed heavily, watching them do so.

"HOW THA' FUCK YOU GETTING THEM SO VEINY, BONNIE? Please tell me your protein shake recipe." Soap said as he was touching your arms, you were veiny and bulky.. it only made him more motivated but who knows he's gonna slouch down on the couch later on eating the cafeteria sandwich. Gaz then stared over at your dinosaur spikes from behind, admiringly touching them. "How'd you get the higher ups customize sharp looking spikes, Dino?"

The spikes were a pretty yellow, it shined down from the light. Dino stood there like some kinda statue, some kinda toy for 2 men to play with. He'd glanced over at Simon, feeling cold ice eyes staring at him. LT. Simon 'ghost' Riley. The man he fought before in selection. Price then yelled. "STOP TOUCHIN' HIM LIKE THAT SOAP." Soap then rolled his eyes at price. Soap then took out his hand for dino to shake before spatting out: "Let's fight off them fucke's ye Dino?" Soap said with a grin. Dino looks down at the Scott, shaking his hand with his big veiny hands.

Gaz then stared before saying. "Gaz, pleasure to meet you Dino." Gaz reached out his hand as well. Dino pulled away from Soap and into the palm of Kyle. Dino then spat out in a voice they never thought he had. (If you don't have one, ignore.) He had an accent and his gruff voice, it was deep.. just like Simons. Dino then spat out. "You too, new teammates." Soap and Gaz were jaw dropped.

Gaz and Soap got a bit flustered.. I mean the tone of the voice was hella attractive, no? Ghost stared deeply at Dino. If not, under his balaclava, slight tone of his cheeks were rosy pink. Price then stepped up before saying. "Alright everyone, sit your asses down on the chair." Ghost grunted when he sat down, Soap was a bit energetic when sitting down. Gaz just sat down normally. But for Dino..

The chair came on to a big creak heard in the room. The noise came from Dinos chair with some slight scratching due to his spikes on the back, scratching the wood of the back chair. Price then cleared his throat loudly.. He can admit, Dino must be pretty heavy. "As you all know we go' those terrorists on our asses. Now we failed to capture and turn in Tha' fucker." Price said, holding a map before spreading it out on the table. Glaring up at his teammates.

"Laswell found some Intel that they moved up to Toronto America." He said before pinning down a knife on the map on the table. "And this is the warehouse where they stash their guns, and maybe planning to shoot up america if they want to." Price said gruffily, staring at his teammates before Ghost spoke up. "So what do you think they're planning." Soap then said. "Probably wanting to snap off our necks after we turned off Tha' time bomb." Gaz spoke up. "I got some phone that was ringing over one of the soldiers they were talking about wanting to set chemicals into the sea and maybe shot up Toronto after one of Saudi arabia's city was raided."

All of them looked at each other then glanced at Dino. Ghost frowned, he was probably thinking that dino would say some wolfhunt (that one term for dogpiss) idea. Dino then said. "Your all fucking missing the key." Dino took out the knife that was stabbed through the map and wood. Stabbing towards Mexico. "Laswell gave me information on the mission through the phone the key is to get towards Mexico first. If America was wanting them in, they would get suspicious. Big crates and crates unknown to the USA would get them ratted out when investigated."

Price, Gaz and Soap were amazed at Dinos explanation, Ghost grunted and crossed his arms. Sending daggers towards Dino. He didn't trust dino, and dino thought it was funny for The Simon Riley to get jealous over him. Dino smirked at Ghost underneath his sharp teeth designed mask. "It would make sense to get to Mexico first before going over to the US. As far as we know USA has extra security over the docks."

"Meaning they are slowly filling out the stash in America without anyone knowing. Possibly underground, no signal since the police can track internet." Dino briefly said. "What? It's a fucking guess." Dino grinned at Ghost.. better then fuckin' Everything. Gaz and Soap showered him with compliments, Ghost himself growled.. fucking asshole. Enemies from first glance, already enemies through selection.

Price stood their with a smile, patting on Dinos shoulder. "you are great, soldier." Dino glanced towards John with a slight nod, side eyeing Simon. Simon kept glaring like it meant he was intimidating but You just shrugged with daggers back at Simon underneath the eyes of yours. Soap whispered to price. "Cap', you see that? Seems like Ghost and Dino go' a bit of riva'ry." Gaz then crossed his arms.. wondering if Dino was paying attention. Gaz looked to where Dino was staring.. and boy was he surprised. A rivalry through first meet, they thought.

Price nodded with Soap, agreeing. But they need Simon to cooperate if he wanted to save the world. Simon then spoke out. "Very Einstein, aren't you." He spoke with a growl. Dino then shrugged again, turning around to leave with a grin underneath the mask, he himself had sharp teeth. Born with it. Simon looked away with annoyance.

Soap and Price were talking down the hall, Gaz was instructed to show Dino his room and Ghost was busy eating lunch, swinging by the cafeteria. At least he got some tea when swinging by. Gaz spoke. "Here's your room, it isn't much but it is a room. You could decorate in here."

Dino dropped his bags like a piece of paper, it was heavy as fuck but lightweight towards the large man. Dino then nodded. "Thank you, Gaz." Dino glanced at Gaz before pulling down his mask, grinning at Gaz with sharp teeth. Gaz felt knocked out.. your teeth were sharp.. and even so clean? Gaz awkwardly smiled back and leaving, he couldn't help but get flustered by the man's charm.

Dino was enthralled with this show, stealing the 141s attention from Simon like taking candy from a baby. Dino does not like his enemies. When they roar at him, he roars back but this is the teasing type of roar towards Simon. Enemies.. could turn into more, who knows?

Dino hung up some posters on his wall, only like.. 2. Dino then took his towel and walked down the hall to get over to the shower room. By the time he got there the 141 was showering. It was normal anyways. Dino then slowly took off his shirt. Soap peeked a glance at Dino and holy fuck was he in heaven. The man had a slutty waist like Simons, and abs that were worked out and trained through with scars. Battle scars.

Simon gave a side eye towards Dino before glancing at his body, peeking through since he didn't have a balaclava. Soap and Simon went back to washing to respect each others privacy, but fully well enough of how sharp eyed the Dinosaur is, He knew they peeked at him. Dino got into the shower cubicle, showering himself before Price then said in his usual gruff tone.

"Right, stand by for deployment. We're gonna meet some old pals of ours by Mexico in Las Almas, Dino." Soap then perked up before grinning.. Gaz then smiled as he brushed back his hair to continue showering, Ghost had a balaclava on and a towel around his waist, knowing full well who those old pals were. Dino glanced at price with a eyebrow raise.. Who was the cap talking about?

Dino was going to meet the Los Vaqueros.

[a-ikuoliver]

Mercury your event is SO cute I’m actually obsessed! I’m such a beer girlie, but if I had to pick a drink it’s gotta be a jägerbomb! And for the character you pick because I want you to be as free as possible I’m ready for anything👀

ehehehe i was a lil cheeky with this one, i leaned more into the leave you wanting more vibe with the jagerbomb also im sorry for the lack of beer i've never met a beer or cider i've liked LMAO i was going to make this endeavor but the more i wrote it the more it worked better with bakugou but i hope u like it!! teehee birthday bash intro + rules + menu | event masterlist

anyone who wasn’t a couple jagerbombs deep could tell you how bad of an idea jagerbombs are at an work party, but when you work at one of the most popular bars in musutafu, it’s more a rite of passage.

not even here a year, your work-best friend was the very first to inform you of the notorious annual work party, how messy they get, how she’d gone home with the chef one year, and how many servers had crashed in the booths over the years. finally, the time had come for the party, your friend already abandoning you to flirt with the chef again, although, you couldn’t play the morally high act about it when all your attention was on your boss behind the counter.

walking behind the bar, you perused the liquor on offer, mostly mid-tier stuff, but god, did the imported stuff look good right about now, something smooth to take your mind off of him. fuck, why’d he have to roll his sleeves up like that? his forearm muscles enough to make you wonder what else lies beneath that damn shirt, an endless expanse of muscles underneath a wife-pleaser singlet, thick thighs caged in his expensive slacks.

“need some help?” lost in your daydream, bakugou is beside you before you realise how long you’ve been ogling him, your indecisive daze in front of the alcohol drawing his attention (any excuse to talk to you, really). you’re nowhere near drunk enough for him to be this close, to get this messy. yet.

“you don’t have my beer on tap.” his eyes nearly roll back at your sweet tone, your gentle teasing that’s been driving him up the wall for months. he stays steadfast, dark garnet eyes unwavering, despite the top you’d worn specifically for them to wander.

“let me make it up to you,” he takes another step closer, the expensive scent of his cologne filling your lungs when he reaches around you for the distinct green bottle, trapping you between his biceps for a fleeting moment, “we’ll do something i used to have in my party days.”

grabbing two pint glasses and two shot glasses, you watch him work with the kind of swiftness and expertise decades behind a bar could give a man, every twist of his wrist calculates, not a single drop of jagermeister or redbull spilling, even when the latter threatened to bubble over the top of the glass.

“you used to do jagerbombs?” you can’t help but sound incredulous, your eyebrows shooting up to your hairline when you accept the drink from him. mesmerised as he pours his own, you try to imagine him younger, chugging back the bomb, swallowing shot after shot, stumbling home in the am. even in your daydream, his hair had speckles of salt through the blond of his hair, the silver fox look worked too well for him to see him any other way.

“why are you so shocked? i was twenty once.”

“it’s hard to imagine you… like that.”

“like what?”

“you know, a party animal, i can only see you drinking bourbon on the rocks.” he chuckles at the memories, of sleepless nights, of horrendous hangovers.

“i could still drink you under the table.” he challenges, already reaching to pour another, you try not to laugh in his face, the image of your all-powerful boss drunk and stumbling was something you’d pay to see. with a smile you could only describe as evil, hot, you clinked your drink with his before knocking it back, “sure you can, old man.”

after too many bombs, an assortment of other shots, some cocktail bakugou poured you and a sip (you weren’t game enough to have more of it, there’s a reason you weren’t a bartender) of the one you poured him, the pair of you stumbled into his office at the back of the bar. half the buttons are undone on his shirt, your hands sliding beneath the hem of his shirt even when he pulled away from you long enough to unlock the door, pulling you inside with him and nudge it closed once more before turning all his attention back to you; the way you stared up at him with glassy eyes, the way your lipstick smudged under your bottom lip, how your chest heaved (the way your tits looked when you did), how your dress rode up when you pulled yourself onto his desk, tugging him in by his belt loops.

he can’t even find it in him to care about the time-sheets crinkling under your ass when you bite your lip, can’t care you’re his employee and his mind goes blank of everything when you wrap your thighs around his hips. fuck, you’re irresistible like this; arching into him, kissing and biting his jaw, one hand tugging your dress further up your thighs, the other working off his belt to slide into his slacks, searching for more and more, more he wants to give you.

you’re just so, so, so hot… and he’s soft. he’s fucking soft. he finally has you under him and he can’t get it up.

let’s hope the alcohol buzzing through your blood is enough to clear your memory of this in the morning.

[energeticallyfavorablelifestyle]

Hm. Cuz like-

Jayce spent weeks? months? praying, working, waiting for his partner to come back to life, wondering how he was allowed to escape the bombing while Viktor took the full force of the violence.

{ Also side note: my boy Viktor is like, always getting the shit beat out of him by life like man can’t we disabled folk be lucky and happy and safe for once-

…can you tell I felt seen in Arcane }

Anyways Jayce was already bisexual but this was the moment his ability to yearn for someone’s very soul and presence was awakened in him. Stop talking about the sexual awakenings, let’s talk about the EMOTIONAL awakenings because boy oh boy did you see how happy he was when Viktor popped out of the sourdough starter. HE WAS SO HAPPY HE WAS SOSO RELIEVED TO HAVE HIS PARTNER BACK.

{ Side note: it’s also so interesting how Arcane writers play with ideas of physical versus mental capabilities with Viktor. He is constantly in a character arc where there is a tug of war between his intellect and empathy and his physical ability and bodily recovery. Idk just as a person with disabilities it’s so interesting to see how he satisfies the constraints of his situation/roles as he “evolves”. Idk if that made sense but thanks for bearing with me- }

——

Okokok, now for Viktor, his arc was INSANE. Bro seemed like he lost almost all his emotions coming out of the Hexcore, and was “healed” physically while losing some of his essential human and mental capabilities (eh eh? you see it now? eh?) He was metahuman and simply followed his glorious evolution directive n all that…

UNTIL!!!! Until, in one timeline, he had to suffer the “fields of endless solitude”, sitting with the Hexcore husk of Jayce on top of the tower. He had to lose his partner and go through the same or similar process of grief, guilt, regret, and pain that Jayce did in the OG timeline in order to regain his human emotions. AND IT IS HERE THAT HIS EMOTIONAL AWAKENING STARTS TO HAPPEN. VIKTOR LEARNS HOW TO YEARN. HOW TO MISS SOMEONE FOR THEIR PRESENCE AND THEIR COMPANIONSHIP.

God like guys Viktor’s sub-arc of losing and rediscovering humanity and his emotions is soooo powerful to me. Like his speech at the end, that humanity speech, like “despite everything, humanity—the good and the bad parts—always prevail”…………. idk…

…I could just be yapping and this could be a total misinterpretation but like 😭😭😭 ARCANE U DID SO GOOD 🥳🥳🥳 I HAD MY DOUBTS WHEN THE PACING OF ACT 1&2 FELT WAY OFF BUT THEN YOU DROPPED ACT 3 AND MY LIFE FELT COMPLETE.

[falsepirit]

nsfw alphabet 💣 [junkrat]

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Usually cracks a joke or mumbles incoherent words before passing out while curled up against you. He can barely take care of himself, so don't expect a typical aftercare course from him. At most, he'll pull a blanket over the two of you if he remembers to.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Doesn't particularly like any part of himself, but it doesn't stop him from joking about his nubs being his charm points—or on a more vulgar note, his cock. On the other hand, he adores all and any soft parts of you. Thighs, tummy, breasts... Loves groping and squeezing at it. It's a softness that Junkrat's not used to being able to hold, so he often spends an annoying amount of his time with you getting handsy.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Quite messy with it, preferring to cum on you most of the time. Loves seeing his cum ooze down your face down to your collarbones and chest. If he's feeling particularly ravenous though, he'll cum inside you and go for a second round to fuck it deeper into you again. Adores it when you cum around him, tightening around him, all warm and soft; makes him feel like he's on top of the world knowing he can get you to orgasm just from his cock.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It's not much of a secret considering the type of person he is, but Junkrat's an unapologetic panty sniffer. When caught, he'll feign ignorance at first, then apologetically glance at you with puppy dog eyes. But in the end, his horniness will catch up to him, which results in him bringing your used underwear up to his nose to inhale hard when he thinks nobody's looking. Sometimes the scent of you smells so good he finds himself groaning in pleasure as blood rushes down to his dick.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Has a considerably low amount of experience; most of what Junkrat knows about sex comes from what he's learned from various resources, not what he's actually done himself. I like to think he's been with a few hookers before, in the context of some of his commissioners bringing him to one of... those types of establishments as either a place to discuss the job or as a reward well done.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Loves having you on top of his lap, straddling his legs as he either thrusts up into you or lets you ride him. It's arguably the most enjoyable position for him when he has both his prosthetics off, while also allowing easy access to grope at your tits, to pull you into a hot and messy kiss, to murmur dirty nothings in your ear, to bite down on your shoulder...

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Come on, it's Junkrat. As long as his dick isn't painfully hard enough for him to lose the last of his senses, sex with him usually consists of him joking around and stupid giggling between the two of you. Though, once he starts getting close, he'll find himself chasing his own pleasure, leaning down in your ear to tell you how much he needs you, how he wants to have you in every way possible...

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Doesn't particularly care too much about grooming it, so it's coarse and rough. This man has probably singed his pubes just like the hair on his head. How? Don't ask, he'll do it again somehow.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Surprisingly, he can be loving during the act in his own special ways. While he wouldn't necessarily drop L-Bombs often, Junkrat does run his mouth with other sweet nothings. I'd steal the moon for ya, darl. Make you mine, make you feel like you're on top of the world with me. Won't let any other bloke have a doll like ya, you'd just be a real waste on 'em.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Only jerks off when he thinks you're asleep, but usually moans loud enough that you wake up and deal with his erection yourself, much to his surprise. Doesn't see the point in jerking off much once he knows you belong to him and you're willing to let him have his way with you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Fucking adores it when you let him bite you and when you bite him back. With his tendency to get a little feral during the act, he subconsciously finds himself leaving marks on every inch of your soft skin, digging his canines into your flesh to the point he sometimes draws blood. Loves it when you do the same to him; Junkrat parades around in his usual shirtless manner afterward, unapologetically showing off every mark you've left on his body the night before.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

While Junkrat doesn't particularly care where he's doing it with you, his possessive side does care about letting others see you drunk on pleasure. He'd have no hesitation doing it outside in the wild, but would rather not do it in the company of others where they can see the way you gasp and writhe. Doesn't really care about others overhearing though, leading to spontaneous acts of exhibitionism.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

It's the inconspicuously innocent things that make him feel hot and heavy. You bending over to reach for something on the ground, your pretty little lips wrapped around a lollipop, your damp clothes clinging to your frame... He's a sucker for all the million ways you can look so goddamn attractive without even trying.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Junkrat's not too into dom/sub dynamics or roleplay in general. Thinks it feels too stuffy with the whole etiquette thing, when he has to stick to a certain character to his best ability. He's not very good at giving orders either, often forgetting rules he's tried setting himself. I mean, he'd try if you asked him sweetly—but it just wouldn't go how you wanted it to.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Junkrat's a bit clumsy and messy with it at first, but his enthusiasm makes up for it. He dives in with no hesitation, tongue running against every part of you, prodding at all your sensitive areas, lapping up your juices like a thirsty man needs water. As for being on the receiving end—Junkrat's a complete mess the moment your mouth is around his cock. His hand will find its way into your hair, curses and low whines spilling from his lips as he bucks his hips to chase his own pleasure. By the time he cums, he's panting from the sheer bliss of having had your cute lips around him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Sex with Junkrat is almost always hard and rough. He loses control of himself in your tight, warm cunt too easily. Before he even realizes it, he's rutting against you like a complete madman, hard enough that he knows you won't be able to even stand once he's done with you—and the thought of that makes him go even faster, harder until you're wailing and begging him to slow down.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

With how quickly Junkrat gets caught up on fucking you, quickies are usually out of the question. A fast fuck could end up lasting an hour once he loses track of time, wanting nothing more than to savor every single part of you and the way you keen into his touch. Most of the fucks that you can even consider a quickie weren't intentional.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He's willing to try out almost anything at least once, but when he's decided something's not for him, Junkrat gets stubborn about it. Almost childish, even. Sometimes he needs a little convincing and a little something else on the side to get him on board with an idea of yours.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Lasts for maybe a maximum of two rounds most of the time and reaches orgasm pretty easily. If he's feeling particularly voracious, he'll try to last longer, wanting to stay inside your warm cunt for as long as he'd let himself.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

You do not want to use any toys Junkrat suggests, not unless you want a severe infection and unknown rashes all over your body. On the other hand, Junkrat isn't too averse to having toys used on him, but he'd much rather the real deal than cheap vibrating plastic.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

As playful as Junkrat is, he is also very impatient. The most teasing he'll probably do is when he forgets and gets caught up on kissing you, running his hands all over your soft skin for what feels like hours, until you tell him you want him inside you now.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Loud. Very loud. This man can't keep quiet at all, even more so when pleasure courses through every inch of his body. Lots of grunting and cussing, as well as incomprehensible sentences hissed under his breath. Groans your name with a rasp when he really starts feeling it.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Likes seeing you as messy as he is, especially if he's the cause. Soot marks left on your skin where he's last touched, the smell of gunpowder clinging to your hair, oil smears on your clothes if you've been in his little shoddy workshop... Junkrat's not very picky about his partner's hygiene—hell, he finds it hot when you have no qualms getting down n' dirty like him—considering who he is.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Standing at around 6'5", Junkrat has a pretty lithe but lean body, with long limbs to go with it. The same goes for his dick; it's not the thickest, but it's comparative enough to his height that it has you seeing stars when he effortlessly pounds into your cervix. Despite his looks, he's plenty strong, enough to manhandle you in bed if he wanted to.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He has a pretty strong libido but knows how to hold it in if needed. Do expect him to get very, very handsy whenever you're within his reach. The hornier he gets, the filthier his mouth gets; at some point, the only thing spilling out of his lips is him talking about every way he'd love to fuck you until you screamed your throat raw.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Almost always falls asleep before you unless you pass out during the act. It's not that he exhausts himself to the point he loses consciousness; you just feel so comfortable against his lithe body, so warm and soft. He can't help falling asleep with his limbs entangled with yours and his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

[lagncx]

stink bomb kisses

Astarion x zombie reader

• In the heat of battle astarion brings out a zombie to help his comrades

• you were the zombie brought back ready to defend your new purpose, Astarion!

•After the battle and you surviving Astarion can’t help but adore you. Like a lil puppy that follows him around. It could be because he has someone to control but also just cause why not show off a zombie freind

• you don’t mind, in fact your super smart. Minded you stumble over words or drop your tongue through the rotting holes of your jaw sometimes so you get a bit tongue tied but astarion has been re-educating you on pronunciation with your tongue twister situation.

•Some of you is still there like your brain and your drop dead good looks. Just a bit green and stinky

• sometimes When following Astarion to a camp gathering Gale or well…most of the time it will always be gale who asks “Astarion why are you keeping the damn zombie around?” And Astarion will scoff “Their name is <❤️> and you will respect them. Ain’t that right darling you tell mean ol gale you are a person too. And after looking between the two you let out a little grunt nodding your head to which Astarion crosses his arms and lifts his chin smirking in victory at Gale

• the others were nice though they wanted you to stay far away. The smell was getting pretty~ badddd…but you thought it was fine cause Halsin would make you necklaces. He said “here’s a necklace with mint and eucalyptus. It’ll uh-…give you luck” and you felt so good you gave him a hug. Squeezed so hard the indent of his clothes had been on your soft…decomposing skin for a while

• Astarion though he loves you does not kiss you. He loves his knight so much but not that much. Honestly the relationship between you is seen as a queen and attack dog. But after learning to speak Astarion and you will always have conversations especially when he’s feeling paranoid about Cazador sending people to capture him.

• “awe stink. You have it easy, you’re already dead and well…your you.” He said taking the needle with the black thread and stitching the deep tear in your jaw that was hanging on by a thread your drool dripping out onto the dirt ground under you with soft plops. “I have all these strong freinds but it’s like I’m a huge risk. What if they lose their lives trying to protect me. Maybe I’m putting a burden on everyone.” He chuckled “Weird of me to feel guilty for using people as protection.” He said but looked up at you the way your glossy eyes focused on the night sky above you both. He sighed “Guess I should say I’m sorry for turning you into some zombie lap dog.” He frowned cutting the thread and letting his hands rest in his lap. You looked at him “I’ll always…protect astarion. Alive…or not.” You groaned “Your a good luck star…nobody gets to hurt you.” Astarion just sighs and blows a kiss your way and you do it back the whiff of your rot throwing him off only for a second.

•When astarion falls in love with someone you’re there watching. Seeing the way they kiss and hug….though you only focused on how he was so happy. Finding someone to make him happy and feel safe. More than you ever could. Plus who were you kidding you’re a zombie. It could never work out. You felt your cold still heart break.

• Astarion searched every where for you. He was planning on saying goodbye and getting rid of you. Seeing how slow and unfocused you were during fights recently. He felt you were old and tired to throw in the towel

•Astarion found you just the same when he brought you back. A pile of viscera. Astarion cried for hours he wasn’t able to say goodbye.

•u died of a broken heart.

hiii this is acc brain dump thought of it from something I forgot but yeaaa. Enjoy it I hope you guys mess with my first headcanons post

[giggly-squiggily]

Spontaneous Headcanon #33

CW: Drinking antic Hcs, swearing and Blue Lock Season 2 finale spoilers below the cut!

Cause I’m a slut for fixer-upper fics/headcanons

Sae is a lightweight. Like- “one shot and he’s wasted” lightweight. He doesn’t drink often if at all- bad for the athlete in him or something to that nature.

Naturally though when you’re boyfriend’s acquaintance with Shidou, you’re going to find yourself in all kinds of silly situations.

It’s the night of the U-20 afterparty; Rin had snuck off from the screaming, crying, terrible singing, and stuffing of faces around him (and that’s just winner-high Isagi) and is now sitting outside on the grassy fields of the soccer zone.

He’s tired and sad and not sure if he wants to cry, punch the wall, have a mental breakdown or just curl up and sleep right then and there when his phone starts vibrating. There are very, VERY few people who actually call him- his parents are rather hands off and only call in emergencies and Sae’s naturally not gonna call him. It was probably spam.

And because he’s in such a bad mood, he decides to entertain a spam caller with verbal abuse, so he hits the answer button without looking and raises it up to rip into the poor unfortunate soul when-

“Riiiiiiiin!” The world stops- Rin almost drops his phone cause SAE??? It can’t be him- this man sounds way too happy to be his brother. “Hello? Did I dial it wrong? Damn- hehe, I can’t make out the letters.”

And Rin’s just sitting there like “WTF?“ cause Sae sounds so off from his usual self- when was the last time he called him by name??? “Are you fucking drunk right now?”

“Shhhhh, shhh, shhhhhhhhh.” He swears he can picture Sae putting a hand over the phone as if to silence Rin’s shocked anger- “too loud little bro- too loud.” Then he drops a huge bomb on Rin like- “I wanted to tell you- you were so fucking cool today. Like so, so coooool.”

And Rin doesn’t know how to act cause what the hell was happening right now? Sae was drunk, and now he’s gushing about how the U-20 match??? He’s speechless- also who gave him alcohol? He’s about to ask how when Sae hits him with another drunk truth.

“Like- I can’t tell you this in real life cause like- you’ll get all weak or whatever; but I love you so, soooooo much, Rin. You’re my favorite little brother ever!”

“I’m your only brother” Rin points out, and Sae laughs like it’s the funniest thing in the world cause maybe in his drunken stupor it is? “You need to drink some water. Go lay down or something.”

“I caaant. Once I do, I can’t talk to you anymore.” Is that- tears? Was Sae crying? He was an emotional drunk it seemed. “And I miss talking to you! You make my whole life better- I want to tell you about- about, eh? Where did I go again?”

“Spain.”

“SPAIN! Yeah, hehe- you can’t spell Spain without Pain.” Another laugh, another small whimper through a sigh. “I missed you. Hey- are you off soon? Stay with me; I’m home until the end of the next month. Let’s- let’s be brothers again.”

And now Rin can’t even talk because he’s choking to death on sudden tears as he covers his phone- he doesn’t want to believe it and doubts Sae will remember any of this by the morning but a small, small part of him is wishing for it. “We’ll see.” He manages to force out.

“Ayyy, that’s my brother! H-hold on- the captains being stupid- OLIVER SHUSH!!! I’m on the phone with my brother!” And Sae’s clearly delirious for the next part but it holds true “Are you still there? Did you fall asleep again on the phone? Hehe- you used to do that when I went away. Anyway; I love you, and I’m sorry for being such a dick.” He laughs again. “Hehe- dick. Anyway; come see me before I go- I wanna tell you about pain-“

“Spain. Go drink water.”

“Ay ay, captain.” The phone shifts as if Sae’s saluting with it. There’s more shuffling before a new voice comes on.

“Hey ever littler genius.” The captain. Rin resists the urge to roll his wet eyes. “I’ll get your brother to bed. Sorry- it’s my fault he’s drunk.”

Rin tells him he’s a terrible influence and Oliver laughs before wishing him goodnight and good game. Now he’s staring at the phone, watching his screen fade black and his tear stained face reflected back. He knew he was going to cry today- he just didn’t know how or when or even why.

“You good?” Hiori somehow finds him later- well after Rin wiped his face clean and clears away the hoarseness in his voice. If he sees the red in his eyes, he doesn’t mention it. Rin liked that about Hiori. He only knew him a few short weeks and already: he really, really likes him.

The next day or so he gets a text from Sae- possibly about forgetting the other night. Instead it lists an address with a link forwarding a pre-paid train ticket. “In case you need a place to crash.” Is all it says.

Rin doesn’t reply, but he does download the train ticket.

Just in case.

[lykaios2]

Mikey x reader right?

ik this a cliche, but Mikey gets turned into a lil tot.

After a day Mikey still didn't turn back and reader is concerned, but the turts have a mission so they are doing this on their own.

throughout the whole thing, the realize how manipulative Mikey really is, but they don't mind cuz he's cute- reader is like a mom the whole time, wpoling him and shi.

mid snacktime(1day later) Mikey turns back as he is begging for cuddles. everything is awkward, w/ reader holding a cup of applesauce and pea-tos in their hands.

"can we PLEASE have cuddles? I promiiiii*turns back with a poof*- ok what the hell. is that peatos?"

*reader just standing in the middle of the kitchen*

enjoy(u request beggar, I need sum too)

-ya gurl chip❤️❤️

oml this was a nightmare to write for no reason at all other than my brain couldn't process this request ;-;

anyway I tried my best

hope you enjoy! ❤️

The Troubles of Turning to a Tot

mikey x reader (platonic? romantic? idk)

“I’m telling you, Raph, my head is killing me!”

“Whatever, dude. Let’s just go.”

Ah, the privilege of being the youngest. He could get nearly anything he wanted if he begged hard enough. He laughed as they left, his scheme working once again. He went to his room and grabbed his comics, flopping on his bed and flipping through the pages. He wasn’t normally the type to just sit back and let his brothers do the work, but he couldn’t help but take advantage of his younger sibling privilege once or twice in a while.

“Yo! Orange! Where are you?!” Your shouts echoed throughout the lair. Much to Mikey’s surprise, you were paying him a visit.

“I ain’t telling you, because my name isn’t Orange!” He hated the nickname. You had heard Splinter call him that one time, and you still wouldn’t drop it.

“Whatever, I’ll find you in like two minutes.”

~~~~~~~

“Dude, no way.”

“I know! It’s so easy!” Mikey again relished in the fact of how easy it was to get his brothers to do almost anything he wanted. “They fall for it almost every time.”

“One of these days, one of them is gonna figure out that this is BS.”

“They probably already have. But it’s either letting me stay home, or hearing me whine the whole time.”

You only sighed in response to his stupid loophole logic. How did you ever come to love this trainwreck of a turtle man?

“Ugh...now that I mention it, though, my head does kind of actually hurt.” He got up and started pacing a little, holding his head.

“Haha, very funny.” You weren’t stupid, Mikey had just told you about how he used this trick on his brothers. Plus, he was quite the prankster anyway, so there was not a doubt in your mind that he was joking. He said his stomach was upset as well, but you weren’t phased. You had seen before how far Mikey was willing to go for the bit. What really raised an eyebrow was when he sat down on the floor in the fetal position. Whenever he started going a little too far like this, you prepared yourself in case something was actually going wrong. You still weren’t fully convinced, though.

“y/n...could you grab me some water from the refrigerator? Whatever’s going on with me, it kinda sucks...”

“Oh sure, what now? I’m gonna open the refrigerator and a boxing glove will come out, sending me comically flying to the other end of the kitchen.” You joked, but at this point, if he started doing anything else, you were going to start taking action.

“Ow...please...y/n...the pain…” He groaned. You quickly got up from your seat and walked over to the cupboards, looking for a cup. While your back was turned, you could hear a loud *poof* come from behind you.

“Aw, come on, Mikey. What is this, a smoke bomb?” You said, waving away the strange  clouds that had appeared behind you. “...Mikey?”

No response. You walked into the cloud of smoke to find...a child? That also looked like a turtle?

“Uh...Mikey?” You looked around, trying to figure out where the turtle had gone. Instead, the child looked up at you and responded.

“Hi! That’s me, Mikey! But what’s your name?”

You stood there, dumbfounded. Was Mikey...a kid now? How had that even happened? Something gave you the feeling that this wasn’t a prank anymore…

~~~~~~~

“So let me get this straight...you’re Mikey, but now you’re kid. You know where you are, but you don’t know who I am. But you know your brothers.”

“Yup!”

You sat in the living room now. You had finally figured out what in the world was going on, but still had no clue how. At this point, the only thing you could do was keep him safe until his brothers came back.

“Well...I guess I have to, like, take care of you.” Mikey gasped and smiled.

“You’re gonna watch me until my brothers get back? Yay! We’re gonna have so much fun! Come on, let’s go!” Mikey ran off, leaving you in the living room alone.

“Hey! Get back here”

~~~~~~~

You had heard stories about how rambunctious Mikey had been as a child. But actually having to take care of him was another thing. He had an impossible amount of energy. He was constantly running around and climbing everywhere. You had never had to watch a kid like this before.

“Mikey! Get back here, you have food all over your face!” He just kept running away, giggling all the while. “How are you so fast?!”

He also had no sense of danger, which meant he got hurt a lot more. Or so you thought, until one time when Mikey tripped and fell, and he started to scream and cry.

“My knee is bleeding! It hurts!”

“Oh goodness, again? Let me grab you another bandaid...” You walked out of the room to get another bandaid for Mikey, when you heard his crying stop. You peeked your head back to find Mikey sitting on the floor completely silent. No crying, not even a single tear. And his knee wasn’t even bleeding. He was completely fine!

“You little liar!” He whipped his head around, shocked to see you. “You weren't hurt at all! You just wanted to...actually, why did you do that?”

He wouldn’t say a word, too afraid to get in trouble. He crossed his arms and turned away from you, refusing to tell the truth. He only spoke after you promised to not tell Splinter so he wouldn’t get in trouble.

“I…I wanted a cool bandaid. I really like the bandaids. But Dad says that we should only use them when we’re really hurt.”

You sighed. Mikey just wanted a bandaid...but he lied for it? Was he really this mischievous of a child? But he also just lied to his brothers…

“We’re gonna have a talk about this later…” You commented under your breath, before speaking to Mikey again. At this point, it was getting late, and you were exhausted. “I have an idea...why don’t we go lay down and watch a movie?” Mikey, ashamed that he  had been caught in his lie, nodded and got up to walk to the living room.

~~~~~~~

Mikey passed out almost immediately. He denied ever being tired, but his eyelids kept drooping lower and lower. He slumped over onto you as he slowly grew more and more sleepy. Looking down at him, he looked pretty adorable when he was actually sitting still, asleep.

“Not tired, huh? Heh, that’s what they all say.” You looked around again for any sign of his brothers, but there was nothing. “Guess I gotta put you to bed then.”

You hoisted him up into your arms. He was heavier than you expected, but he was a turtle mutant. Not exactly a normal child. You carried him to his bedroom, laying him down on his bed. You almost walked away, but not before Mikey grabbed your arm in his sleep, pulling you back.

The little gesture melted your heart, making you completely forget what had happened earlier. You smiled and laid down next to him, letting him have his way. He wrapped himself around your arm, making sure you knew you weren’t allowed to leave.

You laid a blanket over him, and closed your eyes. Next thing you knew, you were fast asleep, right next to Mikey.

~~~~~~~

“y/n...I’m thirsty.”

“Right...of course you are. Come on, then.”

“I don’t want to go. The monster will get me.”

“No it won’t, I’ll protect you.”

“You pinky promise?”

“Yes, I pinky promise.”

~~~~~~~

The next morning, when you woke up, you looked next to you to find Mikey not there. Worried, you frantically got out of the bed and ran to find Mikey. Much to your relief, and also confusion, he was in the living room, watching TV and eating cereal.

“Did you make that yourself? And you put the TV on, too?” you asked, pointing to the bowl of cereal in his hands.

“Yep! I’m a big kid, I can take care of myself.” You shrugged, sitting on the couch next to him. He quietly finished his bowl of cereal, and went to put it in the sink. You thought to yourself that maybe today he would be calm for once. But when Mikey didn’t come back from the kitchen, those thoughts were gone.

~~~~~~~

He was back at it again, hyper as ever. The only difference between yesterday and today was that you knew Mikey’s tricks. You made sure to check if he was really hurt. Thankfully, he never was. On the contrary, he was quite the resilient kid. But he was still rambunctious. You couldn’t ever get him to sit still for more than 30 seconds.

“y/n, I’m hungryyyyy…”

“Didn’t you just eat?”

“Yeah, but I’m hungry again.”

“I’ll go get you some more Goldfish then…”

“No! I want apples.” You groaned.

“Apples, apples, of course…let’s go then.”

You begrudgingly walked to the kitchen, and looked around for some apples to cut up. As you tried to slice the apples, you could feel Mikey tugging on your shirt. “y/n…”

“I’m working on it! Give me a minute…”

“y/n, my tummy hurts.”

“It’s probably because you’re hungry. I’m almost done with the apples.”

“But it’s not like that…my tummy hurts hurts…”

“Well, some food and water should make you feel a little better.”

Mikey nodded, and started clinging to your leg. You could feel him sniffling, and you looked down to see him with tears welling up in his eyes.

“Oh, hey, hey…don’t worry, it’ll be okay…um…” You looked around for anything that could help him, but before you could find anything, you heard a loud *poof* and suddenly Mikey was standing in front of you, his normal self again.

“Oh, hey y/n! You okay, you look a little stressed. And what’s with the apples, you hungry?”

“M-Mikey?”

“Yeah?” You closed your eyes and all but fell over. “Woah! Man down! You need some rest…let’s go sit down, why don’t we? Then maybe you can tell me what’s going on.”

“Please…that would be lovely.”

[junicult]

Hello! I really love how you write for harvey and had wanted to ask this for a long time but i can’t see if you’re open or closed for request/Asks.

But if you are may i ask you what do you think about Harvey knowing dances like Cha cha? or Waltz?

I don’t know where this idea came from but Whenever i see him on the town especially with the seasonal outfit mod on winter~

He always strikes me as a refined man from a wealthy family and I don’t even know why plus his portrait looks like he’s the type to listen and sing along to up town girl (T-T)

Thank you~

pls forgive how messy this entire thing is i just worked an 8 hr shift but i see harvey…i gotta write for harvey.

i’d agree he was raised pretty well-off, but still humble. he never really had to worry about money growing up, and i still feel like when he reached a certain age he got a minimum wage job just for his own benefit.

like he never struggled growing up, but he also wasn’t swimming in money. he could afford to get things he wanted, but he didn’t unless he needed them. whether his parents raised him that way or not, he’s always been responsible.

and i definitely agree he’s a gentleman, always has been. he was the type that was raised to say “excuse me,” before leaving the dinner table, y’know?

speaking of, his family was also the kind that made it important to eat dinner together every night. i think he’s carried that on since childhood.

i wanna hc him w siblings. i just feel like he was the middle child for some reason. it radiates off of him. either that, or only child. but i think it’d be cute to imagine him as the middle brother of two sisters.

the most refined men have older sisters, THIS IS A FACT!!

he’d just be forced to listen to all of their problems as teenagers, and he’d learn a lot from them. i know he got along with them so well. he was a little nerd with his interests, and his sisters would gift him little model airplanes on his birthday that he still keeps in his apartment 🫶🫶

now, to bring up the dancing thing; i also agree. his parents probably threw all of them in like cotillion when they were preteens. like u know those like 6-week long ballroom dancing classes that take place like every wednesday night or something… (am i embarrassing myself by knowing too much abt this?)

yeah. he did one of those. and the fact that the knowledge stuck with him for so long says something. but it’s not one of those things he’d just tell you, it’s something you’d find out on your own.

let’s say you’re a fairly new couple, but you still haven’t met each others parents / family yet and stuff. so he’s spending time with you one day, cooking u dinner (as per usual) and he just drops the bomb like, “my sisters wedding is in a few weeks. i was wondering if you’d be my plus one?”

obviously you said yes because…well…it’s also an excuse to get away from work for a weekend and spend time with your boyfriend.

but also it hit u that ur gonna be meeting his fucking family then, too😭😭

ANYWAYS the weekend finally comes, he’s dressed in a cute little suit, got a nice little haircut for his sisters wedding & he’s looking very handsome. he gets to see you all dressed up too, and he’s just a smiling mess the entire weekend because it’s such a special day and he’s a sentimental guy. he definitely dropped a few tears during the ceremony & omfg i’m getting so off track LMFAO

so when the time comes where the bride and groom get to have their first dance, your nerves have calmed significantly because you’ve already met his family, all is well and now you’re both happily watching the newly weds. (he’s definitely not thinking about being in this scenario with u, no. not at all.)

now everyone gets to come in, so ever the gentleman he is that was raised right, he asks you for a dance.

it’s only then when you realized you’ve never actually seen harvey dance, so when he takes your hand and delicately holds onto your waist, guiding you—it’s baffling. you’d expect the anxious man u know and love to be a little uncoordinated & nervous. but no. here he is making u look like a FOOL.

“i didn’t know you could waltz,” you whisper, adding a little laugh.

“i didn’t know you couldn’t waltz.” he teases, smiling at your look of shock. he easily guides you through the dance. no he doesn’t dip you or anything because who is he to steal the light from his sister, and also that’s so excessive 😭

but towards the end he pulls you in for a short kiss, just long enough to get the message across that he’s happy you’re the one he danced with.

like he’s trying to tell you ur the only one he wants to dance the rest of his dances with.

[sparda-ly]

i cant believe that you do write for mgr!! i swear that i've been dying to find some new fics of this fandom, because, you know, no one makes content of it. but anyways! im really really happy that you do write for mgr and, as always, i'll make u a request (and you can ignore it if you want :))

how would sam and raiden (and maybe mistral and moonson if you are willing to write for these) separately to a reader that likes to write love letters with little hearts and sweet words all over and send for them when they aren't around :)

and keep your good work but also take care of yourself, okay? love u, darling!! 💕💕

– 🌙

RAIDEN, JETSTREAM SAM, MONSOON, MISTRAL WITH AN S/O THAT WHO WRITES CUTES NOTES

GENDER UNSPECIFIED!

note: hey there sugar, love to see you in my inbox! hope these headcannons are ok since i'm not really sure bout the monsoon part! let me know if you have any tips

warnings: none

raiden

raiden is pretty slow when it comes to showing affection therefore when you started leaving him cute little notes with hearts splattered all around them, he only makes a ??? face and questions why would you do that if you can say the same thing to his face.

it probably takes a lot of time explaining to him that this is just tyour way of showing your love and affection for him

plus, the poor cyborg thinks there are some type of secret bombs hidden in these notes dropped off by his enemies due to his trauma

however, after some time he grows to actually enjoy them and always smiles whenever he notices them on his desk

once raiden tried writing a little note for you however it looked absolutely horrible, the man felt so embarrased he threw it away before you could even see it 😭😭😭

sam

this cocky mf definitely enjoys them and absolutely cherishes them with his life

sam definitely handles affection better than raiden, that's for sure

also, he himself has quite a few ways of showering you with love

that's why he surely understands what you mean by these cute notes and always lets you know how he feels about them

one time after a particular hard objective, he saw a pink note attached to his desk with the words "let's dance after this mission ;) ♡♡" and it absolutely made his day

let's not forget the fact that he will absolutely show these notes to all his acquaintances and eat up their jealous faces, feeling pride he has such an amazing partner 💗

monsoon

starting of with the fact that this man is arrogant and cocky as fuck, monsoon will definitely appreciate these small acts

he may have a hard time showing that though

monsoon secretely loves them and always collects them putting them in a safe box in his office

although he will get defensive if anyone brings it up during a conversation and deny the fact

he can also be flirty when he feels like it but it's only when he's in the mood

similar to sam and raiden, small notes from you can easily change his entire mood

mistral

please for the love of god never stop leaving this woman cute notes, she adores them

whenever she sees these pieces of paper containing tons of hearts and a little message, she goes quite litreally crazy

"baby, if i knew i would get these notes every day, i would've asked you out earlier"

her favourite notes are the ones were you praise her and tell her she's your favourite person

at some point mistral definitely starts leaving you similar notes possibly with flirty pick-up lines that surprisingly are good

she feels pride and satisfaction whenever she sees you blushing at them

[jamisonwritestf2trash]

minific :) hope u like it!! it doesnt have much of canon lore applied, and its Mann Vs Machine. Spy bein a dad when its far too late :(

----

The team had been split up when the robots attacked, and Scout and Sniper had gotten stuck together. Not that it was any issue for Scout, though. He figured the Australian wouldn't mind sticking with him for a little while, and so far, he hasn't left. But it's too quiet, even for someone like Sniper, the least talkative member on the team.

"Hey, you think the others are alright?" Scout looks at the marksman.

"Why wouldn't they be? They've better aim when close up than I ever bloody will." Sniper glances at Scout before returning his gaze to the hallway ahead of them. Broken robots lay littered about.

"Someone was here." Sniper frowns. "They must not be far."

"No shit, Sherlock-- is that blood?" Scout frowns, the red stain on the floor catching his attention.

"Yeah. Trail o' it, too..." Sniper frowns. "You follow it. I'll make sure there's no more of the bloody boltheads comin' down the halls."

"Gotcha." Scout quickly begins to follow the trail until he reaches the end of the hallway, where the rough smell of cigarette smoke fills the air.

"Ah. It's you." The voice of Spy says from the dark, and Scout flicks the lights on. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't... this.

Spy's injured badly. There's blood staining his suit in multiple areas, and what appears to be a gunshot wound to his upper body seems to be the main cause.

"Holy crap...!" Scout quickly snaps out of the trance he was in, and opens the duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He digs through it, pulling out bandages. Of course he'd forgotten the medkits. Fan-fucking-tastic.

"Scout, I am no doctor, but I don't think a simple band aid is going to heal a bullet wound." Spy glares at the runner.

"I'm tryna help you, man! Cut me some slack." Scout scowls, and Spy just sighs.

"Scout. Just... stop. I'm not making it out of this room alive. My leg is broken and I've been shot four times. It's a miracle I'm not already dead." Spy pushes the bandages away, fllicking his burned-out cigarette away with his other hand.

"Well... that's just morbid. I can use comms to get Snipes to find Doc?" Scout reaches for his headpiece, but Spy shakes his head.

"I want you to listen to me, boy. I don't want to be saved. I've accepted that I'm not going to make it out of here. It's better this way."

"Spy--"

"Shut up!" Spy raises his voice to a yell, before letting out a pained sigh, propping himself higher up against the wall. "Just... listen to what I have to say, Jeremy."

Scout's eyes widen slightly. He isn't wearing his dog tags, there's no way Spy could've known.

"How--"

"This will... sound familiar, I hope. I hate repeating myself." Spy lights a second cigarette. Hesitating. "27 years ago, I met a beautiful woman. She was everything I could've wished for... and we were happy together. As Tom Jones would say, I... dropped a 'sex bomb' on her. I was young then, and I ran from the explosion."

It all sounds so familiar. Had Scout heard this before? Where? When...? He can remember someone saying this to him...

Holy. Crap.

"You... You were the Tom Jones that I saw." Scout whispers. Spy just nods.

"I... It is one of my many regrets, leaving you and your mother behind. I was a coward. I suppose I still am, since it would seem I can only admit to this on the edge of death." Speaking is getting more difficult for Spy, and Scout can tell, hesitating before lowering his headpiece.

"Snipes. Find Doc. Hurry."

"Mate-? Wha--" The Australian's cut off as Scout tosses the headpiece aside, and Scout kneels at Spy's side.

"You're my dad. I-- I can't let you just... die here! There's... so much lost time to be made up." Scout starts unravelling the bandage. Maybe it's the shock stopping him from feeling the pain in his leg from a loose nail digging into his knee, maybe it's the sudden adrenaline rush. Doesn't matter. Spy needs to make it out of this alive.

"Jeremy." Spy's voice is calm, with the slightest hint of pain in it. Scout looks up at Spy, who takes his mask off.

He looks just like how Scout's ma had always described him, just... older, with streaks of grey in his styled-back hair and dark circles under his eyes that Scout had never noticed before. But they share the same blue eyes.

"I am proud to see the man you've become. You've made good friends. Your mother did amazing raising you." Spy pulls a photo from his suit pocket, holding it out to Scout. "Here. I kept this when I left. I always have it with me."

It's a photo of 2 year old Scout, with his mother and Spy sitting beside him, watching him open his christmas present: A baseball bat.

Scout looks back at Spy, his vision blurry. Spy smiles at him, whispering something in French that Scout can't understand, and Scout can see the life leave Spy's eyes.

"Dad?" Scout's voice is small, his eyes wide, staring at Spy's motionless body. He tentatively reaches over and shakes Spy's shoulder, but the Frenchman doesn't respond. He's dead. Forcing back a sob, he pulls the corpse into a hug as the sound of footsteps behind him come closer and closer.

Scout never got the chance to learn his father's name.

I AM SOBBING

THIS IS SO GOOD, I LOVE THIS! THIS IS JUST OUGH.

The angst got to me. I'm not gonna lie. This is so amazing, Anon. If you ever start writing these on your blog (or if you already do), please let me know because I will be your number one fan, I swear 💪

Thank you for sending this in. It is very much appreciated. Keep up the good work. You're an amazing writer, and I literally can't compliment you enough!!!