#and then split their personalities into two

[suppermariobroth]

The Nintendo Switch version of Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door features a detail absent from the original GameCube version whereby enemies will laugh at Mario if he is hit by a stage hazard (e.g. a light falling from the ceiling) during battle.

The Shadow Queen has two animations meant to be used for this purpose, which do not appear during the battle against her. It is likely that the developers believed her personality was too serious, or the circumstances of the battle too dramatic, that her laughing at Mario getting hit by a falling bucket would not be tonally appropriate.

The left animation is not used at all, while the one on the right is used for a split second in the game's credits.

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[realcube]

bnha men as your boss

characters ♡ bakugo, iida & aizawa

tws / tags ♡ NSFW , MINORS DNI. sex, power dynamics, vaginal. specific triggers are before each character.

BAKUGO

tw : vaginal , degradation.

♡ you have to give him credit where credit is due: he is very upfront about his intentions, even before you get hired for the job

♡ he lets you know during the interview process that he is looking a for a personal assistant to not only do menial paperwork and make coffee, but to also attend to his personal needs. and that if you're not up for that, you can find another job.

♡ but you only thought of that as another perk , so you went ahead with it

♡ and like he said, a lot of your duties during the daytime were ordinary and banal: running errands, scheduling appointments and managing his calendar.

♡ but the night is when things would heat up

♡ and perhaps some of the tension and passion from the after-hours affair would still be lingering between you two come the morning, but you tried to brush it off the best you could and act normal so bakugo's co-workers wouldn't get suspicious

♡ although, they were all starting to get a feeling that something was going on between you. and their suspicions were only furthered when you came rushing into a meeting with bakugo's coffee and accidentally spilled it all over him. and instead of yelling at you or cursing you out, he just sighed and left the room to clean himself up.

♡ baring in mind, this is the same man who fired a past PA for stepping on his shoe.

♡ but really, the reason he didn't lash out on you in front of everyone else in the meeting, was because he knew he would get to do it later..

---------------------------

he has you bend over his office desk, ass up and bare while he rams into your leaking pussy. one hand is tangled in your hair to keep your face pressed crudely against the smooth surface, while the other is free to imflict hot smack against your ass. coming down and causing a surge of pain to race through you, as he leaves a searing handprint on your supple skin.

"what the fuck.." he grits through his teeth, his harsh pace unwavering, "was that?"

you groan against the desk, your whole body shakes with each fierce thrust into your tight pussy, creating lewd slapping noises. " 'm sorry.. katsu— ah! " you're cut off as he lands another rough slap against your ass, gripping the flesh in his scolding hand afterwards.

"you're gunna be fuckin' sorry." he groans, entranced by the way your walls grip onto him in reaction to the impact. continuing to plough into you at an absurd rate, his girthy cock splitting you right open, and causing your pussy to leak all over him. "let's see if your still such a clutz after i'm done with this dumb pussy." he spits down at you, rubbing the fluid against your folds for a disgusting mixture of liquids.

"gunna use it til you can't walk." he slaps both cheeks this time consecutively, gaining two identical yelps from you, at which he chuckles lowly between thrusts. " 'ts all your good for anyway."

IIDA

tw : praise

♡ very much a gentleman

♡ despite the fact he feels a certain way about you , he would do his best to suppress his feelings and avoid acting on them as he knows he's your boss and he'd hate to make you uncomfortable

♡ but even though he tries his best to treat you the same as everyone else.. pretty much anyone, including yourself, can pick up on the fact he likes you

♡ it's made obvious by the way he gravitates towards talking to you first thing in the mornings, and how even the most banal conversation between the two of you is enough to put a cheesy grin on his face and start his day off well

♡ or the way he gives you the lightest workload out of all his other sidekicks and employees

♡ or how he praises you for doing even the most minor accomplishments or carrying out the most straight-forward duties. you once did 10 minutes of overtime and the next day he gushed to you about your outstanding work ethic for like half an hour and continued to rave about you to everyone else, as though you were a star worker

♡ and you just can't help but find all of this quite endearing. and if you were being honest, he was quite attractive too. the way he'd flash you a cute smile and you'd get a whiff of his strong, musky cologne whenever he'd walk by you in the hallway was enough to make your head spin — you really couldn't get enough of him.

♡ which is why you said yes when he eventually asked you out to dinner

--------------------------

"such a good girl.." he groans against your skin, peppering soft kisses down your neck and collarbone, while you're stood with your back pressed flush against his foyer wall. the tension between you two was too thick, you couldn't wait until you made it to his bedroom before starting.

his hand delicately traces your curves as his lips make their way down your chest, nibbling at your clothed nipple before halting. casting his crimson red eyes up to meet your own, "now, do you promise not to tell anyone else at work about this, sweetheart?" he mutters, lips inches away from yours, as his hot breath teases you.

"why not?" you squeak as his hand roams under your dress and his strong palm grinds against your needy clit.

he almost chuckles at your innocent question, "it's not very professional what we're doing together." he clarifies, using his fingers to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose, while the fingers of his other hand continue to explore between your thighs, and gently rub against your heat through your soaking panties. "but i really don't want this to end, do you?"

your lip quivers and you shake your head, "no.." you say breathily, capturing his hand between your legs, "i need you." you whine out for more, as he was giving you just enough to leave you desperate.

"i need you too, angel."

AIZAWA

tw : thigh riding, implied age gap.

♡ very indifferent; king of (pretending to be) nonchalant

♡ they'd likely give him a teaching aid for the betterment of the class' academic performances or something like that, and he'd be really opposed to the idea because he thinks he can run the class just fine on his own, like he has been for years now

♡ but he'd slowly but surely come around on the idea of having a teaching aid, not only because it gives him more time to sleep instead of working, but also because you are his aid and he can't be mad at the fact he gets to spend time with you

♡ the two of you have undeniable chemistry straight off the bat, but you do your best to hide it in front of the students and other teachers

♡ but it's definitely there.. and it doesn't take long for the chemistry to manifest in your after-hours discussions

♡ there is probably a little bit of age gap going on in your relationship , but nothing too drastic. you're just the new, barely experienced aid looking to gain wisdom off aizawa, so you spend the majority of your shift swooning over him, trying to get him to teach you stuff and show him all the resources you've made in an attempt to impress him

♡ meanwhile he's just straight-faced the whole time, pretending to be unamused.. even though, on the inside he is quite charmed by you and thinks you're just the sweetest

♡ maybe, if you're extremely observant, you'll see him crack the tiniest smile inbetween sips of his coffee, while you are enthusing to him about your new lesson plans

---------------------------

he's sat at his desk in his private office after-hours, with papers scattered all over it. in one hand is his red pen which he is using to grade papers, and in the other is your waist. you are straddling his thigh, with your arms draped lazily around his shoulders and your nose buried into the crook of his neck.

feeling the subtle flex of his muslces against your already sopping cunt caused you to groan into his neck. you had worn a dress today with no tights so your clothed pussy was sat directly on the harsh material of his jeans, but you wanted to experience every single ounce of satisfaction. hence, you pulled your panties to the side and pressed your bare cunt against his thigh, whining like a whore into the emptiness of his office.

though he didn't pay you any mind, and was fixated on his papers. which somehow made the situation even hotter. soon, you began to grind against his leg, sliding yourself back and forth, allowing the fricition between your sensitive cunt and the rough denim to coarse through you. pressing your tender clit down against him repeatedly, and moaning his name lewdly like he was the one responsible for your worlds of satisfaction. which he partially was, even though he put no effort into it. he wouldn't even spare you a glance when you were screaming out for him.

it was a while before you were able to make yourself come undone all over his leg, but it was all so worth it. one of the most cathardic climaxes of your life. you were panting heavily and completely out of breath, laying your tired body against his for a few minutes, until he told you to sit upright.

his hand wandered down to your cunt, and even the fleeting brush of his fingers against your heat was enough to make you whine lowly. but really he was trying to established how wet you were, and of course when he pulled his fingers away, they were drenched with your juices. "hm," he grumbles, exmaning his hand, "look at this mess. who is going to clean this up, dear?"

argh sorry this is short i was gonna write another character but idk who......

[seat-safety-switch]

In the criminal justice system, the people are represented by two separate yet equally important groups: the people who repair fences, and the people who let them fall apart. These are their stories.

When I moved into my house, the fence was in good condition. In case you're from a country that hadn't invented them yet, "fences" are an artificial construct of humanity meant to delineate the boundaries of property between two or more identical suburban houses. And, being part of your property, they are part of how you are perceived.

Here's the problem: fences are made out of flawed, human construction. Mine was (I think) made out of wood. When that wood rotted, the planks fell out, and maybe a couple posts stayed behind. Suddenly, passersby could see into my property, and see that I was not in fact a Good Person who was Trying Hard To Fit In. Not like themselves, who agonized over every missing flake of Home Depot Eggshell Blue on their own fences after a long, hard winter.

As things degraded further, with neighbourhood children wandering, confused, into my yard after not seeing any fence keeping them from doing so, by-law enforcement was summoned. The belief was that they would punish me for going against the grain, for letting my fence fall apart.

Unfortunately for them, my attorney, who spends most of his spare time writing erotic fan-fiction about our city's specific property-standards bylaws (don't ask to see them, they're really bad, and the main character is an obvious self-insert) was on the case. He actually made one of the bylaw managers quit rather than spend another hour on the phone with him. After all that stress, it turns out that while you can't have a bad-looking fence, you don't actually have to have a fence at all.

One delightful weekend of sledgehammers removed the last of the rotten planks and split posts, and my yard was now full of free-range 1970s shitbox Chryslers. A glorious moment for civilization.

Unfortunately, it didn't take long for me to realize exactly why fences are valuable: they keep the undesirable element out of your yard.

Only a few days after my triumph over the decline of mind-your-own-fucking-businessism, I noticed something strange in my yard. Tucked in amongst where I would normally have terrible cars, someone had parked a fully-intact Ford Galaxie, presumably thinking I wouldn't even notice. As if I could not give special attention to a vehicle that still has its hood and its trunk!

The haters won in the end: I was forced to go to Home Depot, that knurled-wood nest of knavery, and purchase the shittiest chain-link fence kit that I could find. No cost was too great to keep the Fordites away from my homestead, with their firestarting dodgy electrics and perfect paint.

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

You know what really stings? I think Democratic politicians genuinely believe their Republican colleagues are good people who have mistaken morals and can be reasoned with. I don't think there's any vitriol from left to right in Congress, but from right to left there's nothing but pure, visceral DISGUST AND HATRED.

Say there are two senators; Democrat Dan and Republican Rob. Dan and Rob have worked together for 30 years, they play golf on weekends, they send each other Christmas cards, they invite each other to family birthdays and weddings and funerals and whatever, they have co-authored a hundred bipartisan bills. Dan considers Rob a close personal friend despite their differences. Rob sees Dan as a pathetic dancing monkey that has been trained to shit itself for Rob's amusement. Rob would slaughter Dan's family in front of him and force feed him the corpses if he thought it would help the Republican party.

How do Democrats respect people who will never respect them back? The Republicans aren't laughing WITH you, they're laughing AT you. You can shift as far to the right as you want, you can offer endless concessions, it doesn't matter, it'll never be enough. Nancy Pelosi once said "America needs a strong Republican party." I wanna say this was around 2018 or 2019, at a time when some pundits thought the Republican party was going to collapse under Trump's weight or split into a dozen warring factions (how times change). She was trying to sound magnanimous. Her point was that it's important to have two parties to check and balance each other, to give the American people the freedom to choose the direction they want the country to go in, BLAH DEE FUCKIN BLAH.

What is this, The West Wing? We're not in high school civics class, Nancy. There's not a single Republican who wants anything less than total domination. Ask a Democrat how many seats they IDEALLY want in Congress, they'll say maybe 250 in the House, 55 in the Senate, comfortable and potentially achievable majorities, but Republicans want it all, 435 and 100. Mitch McConnell would never say he wants there to be a strong Democratic party, I guaran-fucking-tee you that.

[theambitiouswoman]

The big 5 personality chart

This chart provides an in depth view of personality traits according to the Big Five personality model.

1. Metatraits (Center): Two main overarching traits—Stability and Plasticity. Stability reflects consistency and emotional regulation, while Plasticity involves openness and adaptability.

2. Domains (Next Layer): Each metatrait has associated domains, which align with the Big Five traits:

• Stability is connected to Neuroticism (but interpreted here as low emotional instability), Agreeableness, and Conscientiousness.

• Plasticity is linked to Openness and Extraversion.

3. Aspects (Middle Layer): Each domain splits into two aspects, showing more specific attributes within each Big Five trait:

• For instance, Agreeableness is divided into Compassion and Politeness.

4. Facets (Outer Layer): Each aspect is further broken down into specific facets, representing detailed behaviors and tendencies:

• For example, Volatility under Neuroticism includes traits like irritability and anger.

——————

This chart can help us understand that everyone we meet has a unique blend of traits, tendencies, and behaviors, shaped by different aspects of personality.

What this means for how we perceive and interact with others:

• Recognize different traits that influence behaviors, like compassion leading to empathy or assertiveness leading to leadership.

• Understanding these facets allows us to see where potential misunderstandings might arise. If someone has high volatility (prone to mood swings), we might approach them with extra patience, or if they have high orderliness, they may prefer more structure and organization in shared activities

• Value the unique strengths others bring, like creativity or reliability, based on their personality traits. Recognizing that traits like intellect (part of openness) and industriousness (part of conscientiousness) shape how people approach life goals and problem solving can make us more accepting of others strengths & weaknesses.

• Observing traits in others can inspire self reflection and growth in areas like patience, creativity, or organization.

[yapperblog]

I wanna see you but you're not mine

Tags: suggestive, 18+ only, angst, cheating

RPF below, don't interact if you are not comfortable with it.

You are melting into each others mouths, soft breathless moans filling the dark room, his beard scratches your chin, but you don't care, not when he tastes so good, his hands so tight around your waist. You haven't been together that long, but you think you love him. Know he loves you, because he says it into your ear, pressing his body against yours, making you lay down further on the bed.

You can hear the sounds of the party downstairs. The noise of glass breaking and a second later your friend's voice scolding someone making you both laugh separating for a split second before his lips meet your neck. You feel his hands start to bunch up your skirt around your hips, his rough hands caressing your soft skin.

You don't hear the door open.

"Oh shit" a familiar voice startles you. Your boyfriend separates from you, turning his head towards the noise, his hand moving to cover your exposed thigh.

The door is slightly open, warm light spilling into the room. You catch a glimpse of blond hair, as you look from behind your boyfriend's shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt." Joost dramatically covers his eyes with a hand, standing in the doorway. "Promise I didn't see anything."

"Hey. What's up." your boyfriend sits up, adjusting his pants, trying to cover up the evident bulge.

"Chris can't figure out the sound system. He was looking for you. I can tell you are busy-" Joost removes the hand that was covering his eyes, looking at you and your boyfriend.

"No, it's okay. I'll go help." your boyfriend replies. He leans in to place a quick kiss on your lips. "They can't do anything without me." you giggle at his words, wiping your lipstick from his lips, fixing his hair at least a little.

"I'll be downstairs." he says to you and gets up, moving past Joost, patting him on the shoulder.

You turn on a nightstand lamp, the soft light making you squint at the contrast.

"Can I come in?" Joost asks hesitating.

"Sure." You smile at him, as you stand up to check your makeup in the mirror. He comes into the room, closing the door behind him.

"Feels like I haven't seen you in forever." he says leaning against the door.

"Does it?" you look at him through the mirror. "We've seen each other last weekend at dinner."

"Yeah, but I mean just the two of us."

"Oh. I guess it has been awhile." you sit back on the bed rummaging through your purse looking for a lipstick to reapply it. "You are so busy now. Big star." you tease him laughing.

He smiles and sits next to you. "I missed you."

"I missed you too." you say softly, looking up at him. His eyes are filled with so much adoration, but there is also something else underneath. His gaze moving down to your lips, before returning to your eyes. This look would have made your heart race a year ago, but you buried those feelings deep enough.

"He doesn't deserve you." he says suddenly.

"What?" you look at him confused, you must have misheard him.

"I can't stand seeing you with him." he shakes his head.

"Joost, you are drunk." you say with a chuckle, even though you don't find this funny at all.

"I am." he says turning to fully face you now. "But I mean it. It makes my insides twist whenever I see him put his hands around you. Holding you close" he closes his eyes, "when it should be me."

You feel like your blood is boiling, he can't be serious right now. You and Joost have been friends for many years, although his personality and similar interests you share made you develop a crush on him not that long after meeting him. You hid your feelings towards him scared of ruining your friendship, not being sure if he feels the same way towards you. Until one day you spilled it all out to him, and everything changed, at least for you.

"What is wrong with you? Why are you doing this? He doesn't deserve you" you repeat his words. "And you do?" he winces at your words. "Remember what you said after that night?"

That night. The night you twisted your ankle falling off a bike and Joost helped you get to your apartment, his hands holding you so firm yet gentle, brushing away any fallen tears. Cooing at your winces when he was wrapping a bandage around your ankle. When he kissed your knee so softly, it made your breath catch. You ended up drinking wine, watching trash TV shows till the moon shone through your window.

"How is your foot?" he asks when a commercial break starts.

"Still hurts, but I'll live." you say turning to him. "You didn't have to stay with me."

"I wanted to." Joost replies, his hand brushing your hair softly away from your face.

You didn't think about it, you leaned in and kissed him.

"I'm sorry. I-" you pulled away, but before you could finish your sentence, he crashed his lips into yours. His lips felt like everything you imagined and better, you couldn't get enough of him, but scared to be too eager. It makes you moan into his mouth when he takes more initiative, you feel his hand on your cheek, coordinating your moves, deepening the kiss. You have to separate for air far too quick. You look at him, both of you breathing heavily, still processing what just happened.

"I wanted to do this for a while." you confess to him.

"You should have." he kisses you again, pushing you to lay down making sure not to put any pressure on your injured leg. Your mind is racing a hundred miles an hour, this is finally happening, it seems so silly now that you were scared to confess your feelings to him. Your train of thoughts is interrupted when you feel him bite your bottom lip, the feeling making you gasp and open your mouth in surprise. He uses the opportunity to introduce his tongue to yours.

He is kissing you so deep, making you feel like he also wanted you all this time, you wrap your hands around his shoulders pulling him even closer. He smiles into the kiss, making your teeth clash, but you continue making out, not being able to separate from each other. He touches you all over in exploration trying to feel you and at the same time pull more of the delicious sounds from you, which taste so good mixed with your wine stained lips on his mouth.

You fall asleep cuddled up together on the couch, your back to his chest, his big hand splayed on your stomach. Feeling like the happiest person in the world, tracing the tattoo on his knuckles, his steady breath on your neck. You don't remember falling asleep, but you can't wait to wake up and see him again.

You wake up alone. Memories of last night flood in, for a second you can't decide if it was a dream or reality. You yawn stretching, and hear footsteps coming from the kitchen.

"Hi." you beam up when you see Joost come into the room, a steaming cup in his hand.

"Hi." when you don't hear the same excitement in his voice and a weak smile on his face, a chill runs down your spine, not in a good way.

"I made you coffee." he says placing the cup on the table in front of you.

"Thank you." you look at him.

He sits down on the side of the couch you both slept in, his hair still messy.

"About last night." he is avoiding your eyes. "I think we should stay friends"

You look at him, not being able to find what to say right now.

"I'm sorry if I led you on." he finally looks at you.

"No, no. I am sorry. It was a mistake." you say your voice uncharacteristically flat, drinking the coffee, which is too bitter, not the way you like it.

"I knew you would understand." he feels like a rock has lifted off his shoulders, meanwhile you can barely breathe trying not to cry, all the color has drained from the room.

He promised this wouldn't ruin your friendship and it didn't. You continued being friends ignoring what happened, even though it took you months to heal and your girl friends wiping your tears away. It took even longer to build your confidence to be able to open up to someone again. Bitter taste still in your mouth.

"I regret it so much, you don't even know." his words are full of pain.

"You are right. I don't know." you want to hurt him with your words, but you give up, you still love him, but not in the same way. You sigh. "There wasn't anyone looking for him, was there?"

"No, Chris actually needed help. But it wasn't that urgent, he would have figured it out on his own." He moves to sit closer to you, putting his hand on your knee.

"Joost..." you lean away from his touch, avoiding his eyes.

"I like you." he leans to try to catch your eyes again. "I like you and I'm sorry it took me so long to realise."

"No." you turn to look at him, your voice raising. "No, you don't get to do this. You know how hard it has been seeing you with different girls all these years?"

"I was so stupid" he sighs and you sit in silence for a few moments. "I was looking for you in every one of them." he turns to look you, his knuckles brush your cheek softly.

"I was right there, Joost." you close your eyes. "You didn't have to look far." Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, you think of everything you could have had together, how different it all could have been, if only he made an effort to see you.

"I am so sorry, liefje." he leans closer to you, his lips a breath away from yours. You don't lean away from him this time.

"Can I kiss you?" his voice is barely above a whisper.

You nod and he closes the distance between you. His lips are soft on yours, his hand warm on your cheek. You kiss him back and hear a sigh of relief from him. It is not rushed like that night, both of you not sure, but he deepens the kiss, his head spinning at the thought that he finally has you. He is holding your jaw so tender lips moving against yours, he wants more, wants himself all over you, but doesn't want to push his luck, doesn't want to scare you away.

He starts to kiss your neck, holding you close to his chest. He can smell your boyfriend's cologne lingering on your skin, he groans while placing open mouth wet kisses along your skin. Gripping your waist, he makes a move to put you on his lap. You let him. He hates that he waited so long to finally do this, that he was scared and blind towards his feelings, but maybe he has a chance now.

"Joost." you try to catch your breath. "Joost, wait." you push at his shoulders. He stops, looking up at you with his big blue eyes. "We shouldn't be doing this." you move from his lap, his hand trailing from your waist to your thigh. You take both of his hands in yours.

He knows what is coming next, his head falling on your shoulder. You brush his hair on the back of his head softly.

"We are better as friends." you tell him. You hear let out a chuckle into your neck.

You pull him to face you, holding his face on each side, "I would have let you do anything you wanted back then, you know." you whisper. He closes his eyes and puts his forehead against yours, the pain of realising what could have been too much to bear. "But that time is long gone."

"Schat..." he can't find the right words, maybe there aren't any. Maybe vocabulary hasn't progressed to fix whatever this situation is.

"I really do love him." you move to sit further away on the bed. You wish it didn't hurt that much to leave him here, but it's better for the both of you.

You find your boyfriend downstairs on a couch, enthusiastically telling a story to your group of friends. You touch his shoulder and sit down next to him, a smile spreading across his face as soon as he sees you. He places a kiss on your lips "There you are."

"Missed me?" you tease him, your face still close to his.

"Yeah. Always." he kisses you again.

"Get a room you two." your friend groans in a joking manner.

"We tried!" your boyfriend says laughing. You fall back into the conversation again.

"Jesus.. Slow down, dude." someone calls out from the kitchen. You turn around to see Joost drinking a second shot. He slams down the glass, and heads towards the balcony, pulling out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from his back pocket.

"What's up with him?" your boyfriend asks pointing in Joost's direction. You shrug your shoulders.

"I'll go for a smoke too, to check on him." he says. "Wanna join?"

"No, I'm okay." you give him a weak smile and watch him open the balcony door.

After a long while, your boyfriend finally comes back joining you on the couch, smelling like smoke.

"How did it go?" you ask.

"Fine, Joost just kept saying how lucky I am. I should treasure you." he puts an arm around your shoulders, smell of cigarettes enveloping you.

"Well, you should." you laugh, but your heart aches.

It is around 3 am, you feel way too drunk, more than you planned to be today. But time has flown by, you caught up with all your friends at the party, having a drink with each different group, mingling with everyone.

"Should we go home?" you ask your boyfriend.

"Yeah. I am knackered." his head falls dramatically to your shoulder.

As you leave, you see Joost going upstairs, a pretty girl by his side.

[deadhands69]

Attention

MDNI

Tomura Shigaraki x gn/afab reader

Content/Warnings/Etc: Reader is in the League of Villains, swearing, kissing, uh sex happens.

the world is a lot today, and over 72 million people can suck my dick. hope this helps distract someone at least a little bit

Tomura Shigaraki always wanted attention. He wanted the world to see him. He needed everyone to know what he's capable of. But on a personal level, one to one, he's never considered what that would look like. 

That's why he's surprised to find his favorite box of cereal in the kitchen after your recent grocery trip. 

“Do you like this one too?” he asks casually. 

“It's good, but I got it for you. That's the one you like right?”

“Yeah..” he trails off while pouring himself a bowl. Eyes tracking you in his periphery, more suspicious than the situation necessitates. 

Of course you knew what cereal he would want, why wouldn't you? It's the subtly sweet ones that have flavor but aren't overwhelming. And the pieces are small enough for him to open his mouth slightly without re-splitting his cracked lips. He picks the same cereal to eat nearly every day if it’s an option, you think anyone would have noticed that. 

Later that day, you settle down on the couch to play video games and call him over. Grabbing a random controller for yourself, you hand him the one he likes. The one with the grips that stick a little easier for him to hold without using all of his fingers. He can use the others, absolutely. But after an hour or so the way he shakes his hands out tells you his fingers cramp more.

To you, this was obvious. You didn't think anything of it. 

But for him, no one ever notices these things. Surely, this must be a coincidence. Right? 

That evening, it shouldn't come as a surprise to him when you pass in the hallway, observing him once more as you walk back to your room in a towel after showering. 

“Your shirt is inside out,” you inform him.

“Oh,” he mumbles, choosing to correct the issue immediately. 

Of course you notice the way his abs ripple as he slides the fabric over his head. How couldn’t you?

Your eyes linger too long and he catches you staring. Only now does he realize these coincidences aren’t coincidental at all, he has your full attention. And he doesn’t know what to do with that.

The two of you stand nearly still, switching between heavy eye contact and glances at each other’s bodies. Both growing more flustered by the minute. It’s as good of an invitation as you’re going to get: after what feels like too long, you break the tension by stepping towards him. Pulling him tightly into your arms before smashing your lips into his with the force of months of longing. There’s a momentary pause as he adjusts to your touch before he kisses you back. You would feel a little bad being so rough with his already cracked skin, but he makes no attempts to pull away. Your combined spit softening his chapped lips as the kiss deepens.

A creak echoes down the hallway, he yanks you into his room - decaying your towel in the process.

“Fuck,” he exclaims under his breath while staring you up and down. 

You’d ask if he likes what he sees, but his facial expressions and the tent growing in his sweatpants already gave him away. Your lips find his again as you shove him back on his bed, climbing over his lap. Immediately, you yank off his sweatpants and underwear. You’re already naked so it’s only fair.

You notice the way he presses into you. Back arching, hips jumping in response to your touch. His arms pull you close as he grinds you against him. Palms pressed hard into your shoulder blades with his fingers tightly tucked into fists. He increases the friction, sliding your wetness over his length as you get more and more turned on. 

One thing you hadn’t correctly predicted: you’re not the one in control here. You half assumed he’d be a little clueless about sex. That he’d cream in his pants from a light breeze but here he is, completely naked dragging you over him and you’re about to reach an orgasm first. 

“Just like that, I’m gonna cum,” you exclaim, breath staggering while you grip his hair harder.  He groans at the pull, but continues moving his hips into you in an almost calculated way. Shaking legs and pussy fluttering around nothing, you feel yourself release against him.

“What the fuck,” you moan into his neck while catching your breath, “didn’t think you had that in you.” 

“I guess you’ll have to pay more attention,” he grins before rolling you onto the bed. Quickly, he moves to a box on the shelf over his desk, pulling out a smaller box.

“You just keep those around?” you ask, eyeing the condom he’s putting on. Even more surprises.

“Uh, not quite,” he mumbles, paying more attention to the task at hand. “The rest of the league got me these as a joke when you joined, I just never threw them out.”

How did everyone notice your crush but him? It seems like they tried to tell him but he regarded it suspiciously, assuming everyone was just fucking with him. 

Doesn’t matter, you decide, he definitely knows now.

Seeing him, all of him fully, in front of you takes your already jagged breath away. Fully clothed, Tomura is beautiful. This is overwhelming. The light mist of sweat coating his skin makes the glow from his monitor reflect off the curves of his muscles. Every scar and scratch looking like it was perfectly placed, even if you know the extent he goes to to keep most of them covered on a daily basis. You cup his cheek, brushing your thumb lightly over his tender skin while he moves back over you.

“This is okay, right?” he double checks as he presses his tip into you, still dripping from earlier.

“Yeah,” you stare down, watching as he slides further in. 

“Look at me.” 

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. Instantly, you bring your gaze up to meet his. Blood red eyes stare back into yours, watching your expression shift as he inches deeper into you. Prior to this, he’d always looked away when your eyes lingered too long. Now, you feel like you could get lost in him. He’s everything you see, feel, and hear. Even the subtle smell of him surrounds you.

The mood shifts as you begin passionately kissing again. Before you know it, he’s pounding into you relentlessly, every thrust buzzing through your body. 

Making the same face as earlier, he knows you’re close. He tries to maintain the pace, but as soon as you’re clenching around him, he's done for. Your orgasms peak simultaneously as he slams you harder into the bed. Legs wrapping around his back, shoving him as deep as he can go. 

“Fuck, y/n,” he groans into your ear before you both become a puddle of bodies on his bed.

A few minutes later, he looks so peaceful. His eyes closed, breathing steady. You’ve never seen him so relaxed.

Quietly, you whisper, “I’ll be right back with some towels and water, stay here.” Taking some of his clothes to replace the towel he dusted earlier, you shuffle out the door. 

Yeah, he thought to himself, he could definitely get used to your attention.

more shigaraki here: m.list

[greenfiend]

Most of Stranger Things is within Will’s head…

Including El, the Mind Flayer, Vecna, and more characters...

A lot of people aren't going to like this or agree but- if you are willing to read this at risk that you won't like it... try to keep an open mind and keep that curiosity door open.

(Above is a direct cut from Will to this line...)

I just want to begin by saying: I believe Will is the center of this show. I know many disagree, and place other characters at the center but let me explain to you why I believe the show is mainly about him.

The show begins with Will, as his disappearance is the catalyst for every single event to follow.

If you take a step back, and look at the show as a whole… making Will the center makes the most narrative sense. Without Will… there is no Stranger Things.

(GIF from @/kaypeace21's post here)

Lonnie hammering a nail into the wall while we cut to Mike poking a hole into a piece of paper visually tells a lot. Remember guys, this show is all about showing and not telling. Here they are showing us that the abuse Lonnie has inflicted unto Will caused the gate to open. The Upside Down exists due to Will's trauma. This is because the Upside Down is Will's mindscape.

DID and Internal Worlds

Will has experienced trauma far more severe than we are explicitly told. His trauma mainly leads back to his father. If you are prepared to read about the depths of said trauma, read this post. Not for the faint of heart though, my friends.

In Will's case, his trauma as led to a specific rare mental health condition called: Dissociative Identity Disorder.

Dissociative identity disorder (DID) is a mental health condition where you have two or more separate personalities that control your behavior at different times. When personalities switch, you’ll have gaps in your memory. The identities are usually caused by living through trauma. x

This means I believe that many of the characters we know and love were created from Will's mind. There are common alter roles within a DID system, and this show has been assigning different characters to some of these roles this whole time.

Now, this is NOT a new theory. The creator of this theory is kaypeace21 (one of the original Byler theorists!) Check out her posts here and here. While I agree with a lot of what she has to say, I do think she jumped the gun a bit with some things... specifically: the Persecutor Alter... more on that soon (not to fault her at all! As Vecna did not even exist prior to ST4).

Let's go back to the Upside Down being Will's mindscape:

Many individuals with dissociative identity disorder (DID) have an internal world in which they or their alters can manifest as themselves and interact. These internal worlds, which are also known as inner worlds or headspaces, can range in size and complexity. x

The Upside Down = Will's internal world. Those that inhabit that world or arose from said world are likely Will's alters. Yes, that includes El, the Mind Flayer, Demogorgons, etc. and of course: Vecna.

Here's another visual clue! A hole in the wall (an opened gate...) at the Byers' house that may have "always been [there]".

I know we are told the gate had opened prior to Nov 6, 1983, and that El had been the one to open that door/gate. But... that's because El herself is Will. She is a personality that had developed from him.

Now, lets talk common DID alter roles and how some of our favourite characters fill these roles to a tee.

El, the Gatekeeper Alter

I talk about the Willel theory here but I'll explain it briefly. El is "the gatekeeper", she is the one who Will lets "front" most of the time. Because remember guys... Will "likes to hide".

El was even compared to D’art (who came from Will…) see post here.

Also worth noting: Will's abduction in the shed is compared to... the first atomic bomb (used in an act of war) called "Little Boy". Post about that comparison here. What occurs during a nuclear reaction? Nuclear fission. Fission meaning: SPLITTING INTO TWO! Just as we see with the Phineus Gage comparison. That exact moment was when "El" emerged from the UD (Will's mindscape) into "reality". Leading to her becoming... a literal gatekeeper for Will.

She also helps solve Will's dilemma of to stay or to go, as Will himself stays (in the UD) and El goes.

So... what do I mean by “the gatekeeper"?

A gatekeeper is an alter that controls switching or access to front, access to an internal world or certain areas within it, or access to certain alters or memories. x

Now. Remember guys, we literally see her closing the gate and she (allegedly) was the first to open said gate. She also is heavily associated with repressed memories (the whole NINA plot...)

El has always been protecting Will from facing his trauma and facing himself. That is why we see her "save" him multiple times, why she takes on the role of Mike's romantic partner, why she takes the brunt of the bullies at Lenora, and why Will looks on like a helpless bystander... It is not due to resentment nor cruelty but fear. Will has been hiding behind her this whole time. He is not ready to face his memories, trauma, and the world. Not yet...

The Mind Flayer, the Demon Alter

In abusive groups, a young child can be severely traumatized in order for abusers to intentionally create an alter, and the alter can be tricked into believing they have been possessed by, and have become, a demon. X

This one is pretty self-explanatory, as we literal have a "possession" plot line involving Will. Though, instead of being "possessed", this alter of Will's was fronting.

Vecna, the Persecutor Alter

This is the one I'm most excited (and nervous) to talk about because it is SO fascinating and it matches his character perfectly.

So basically, Vecna is NOT Henry Creel. Vecna is an alter of Will's existing in his hive mind. Hear me out about this.

What I believe is that Henry Creel (or perhaps Edward Creel), was a real person that Will had heard about resulting in him creating an alter based on him. This is called "Factive Introject":

An alter with the form, personality, and possibly the psychological backstory e.g. memories of an outer-world person, whether a relative, a celebrity, or even an acquaintance. x

I believe that when we see "Henry" within both the Rainbow Room AND the Upside Down... this is Will's alter. (The Rainbow Room is likely another inner world of Will's...).

Are you still with me on this? Because lets get into the real evidence here.

What is a persecutor alter?

Persecutors are alters that purposefully harm the body, system, host, core, or other alters, sabotage the system’s goals or healing, or work to assist the system’s abuser(s). x

I know that sounds pretty scary, and some easily dismiss persecutor alters as "evil" BUT they are not. Viewing any alters this way is harmful. All alters' goals are to protect the system, even if they may do so in misguided ways.

x

Most persecutor alters start out as protector alters… which exactly what we see in the show! “Henry” is kind and protective towards El (who is another alter).

Then he decides to “kill” the other kids/alters (I say kill but they will still live on in the mind.)

Lets look at the exact terms used to describe the effects the persecutor alter has on the system...

X

Headaches…

Internal bullying…

Increased blank spells…

Interference with function…

Self-multilation…

Still have doubts on this? Let’s continue…

x

As I said, the persecutor alter is not "evil", it is a misguided protector. Its goal is to protect and often does this by taking on all the suffering experienced by the host and the alters...

But why? Why does the persecutor alter do such things if the goal is to protect?

X

To prevent the host and alters from disclosing their abuse. Think about this for a moment. What did Chrissy, Fred, Patrick, and Max all have in common (other than trauma)? They all were seeing the student counsellor Ms. Kelley and revealing to her aspects of their trauma and abuse.

Vecna, as the persecutor alter, was having NONE of that and thus… “killed” them to protect the system. As he feared the consequences for Will/the system as a whole.

This is VERY telling for Will, because he has long been afraid of opening up about his abuse, trauma, and everything…

We see this emerge in many forms:

The Byers phone frequently going unanswered throughout the show due to Will’s fear of opening up/communication.

Lonnie telling Jonathan to keep his mouth shut for his mom’s sake…

The rats in ST3. To “rat” = to snitch.

El’s bullying in ST4. Angela repeatedly refers to her as a “snitch” even though she never did snitch.

Papa/the Demogorgon/Neil, the Abuser Alter

x I’m going to go right out and say this: “Papa” represents Will's abuser. We see him abuse El, Henry and others in a manner similar to what Will had experienced with Lonnie.

That’s why he’s called “Papa”, as he is a representation of the abusive papa of Will: Lonnie Byers.

Like Henry Creel, he is also likely based off a real person... Richard Brenner perhaps?

"That's what I have to do to keep her close to me. I don't want her going out. Men only want her for one thing and then they hurt her. She doesn't need anyone else but me." In addition to intimidating her so that she would not seek contact with men and risk further abuse, [the abuser alter] was also possessively trying to strengthen her attachment to him. X

This perfectly applies to Brenner's relationship with El, Henry and the others. He wants to isolate them to "protect" them from further abuse. We see this clearly as Brenner prevents El from leaving NINA, at all costs.

Again, even the alter representing the abuser should not be seen as “evil”. It’s complicated. All alters are aspect of the host, they are not evil. There are good intentions behind the bad actions.

Other Alters…

So, I believe other characters are also alters of Will’s such as:

Max, Billy, Chrissy, Fred, Patrick, Eddie, Argyle… and more. This post is getting far too long for me to expand on that just yet though.

Mike is “The Key” but… he’s not the only key

Let’s not forget about Ms Kelley and her key necklace!

Although Mike’s love will be an incredibly important aspect to saving Hawkins and saving Will… Will also needs to open up, face his trauma, and reveal his truth. Keeping all of this bottled up inside is causing far more problems…

When it comes to treatment for DID, there are different methods. Some include:

Identifying and working through past trauma.

Managing sudden behavioral changes.

Merging separate identities into a single identity. x

The latter being a highly controversial one, and it may not be the right choice for everyone with DID.

Within the show however? We will likely see merging or fusion of some of the characters in the end (we likely already have too...)

We already have foreshadowing of fusion between Will and El:

Robin and Steve discussing the act of "combining" to "solve all [their] problems".

Dustin hugging El and Will only to have El visually disappear during their hug.

El ending the season standing alone in the Upside Down.

In DID there's also a concept called integration, which may not be as extreme as fusion.

The individual must then make the choice of to what extent they want to integrate their alters as part of their healing. Again, some degree of integration is inevitable. The individual must integrate traumatic materials in order to heal from PTSD. As well, enough integration between alters must occur to allow for easy communication, a lack of dissociative amnesia between parts, and a consistent sense of being grounded in the present and in the body. The individual must be able to take responsibility for all of the system's actions, and all alters in the system should work together towards the same goals. x

Basically, Will must become insightful of his condition and see all aspects of himself (all alters) as helpful (even if they may be misguided). It will NOT help him to simply "kill" any alters, that will not work. He must accept himself for who he is. He must learn to love all aspects of himself.

I won’t touch on it here, but I will just mention that I’m very confident the show will end with another realm/internal world that’s beautiful and full of life. Implying that Will has finally found some peace of mind. I talk about it in this post.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Dictionary of Esoteric Terminology

for your next poem/story (pt. 2)

Esoteric—designed for or understood by the specially initiated alone; may refer to the occult

Aeon - either an indefinite or infinite period of time; the Gnostics used the word to represent eternal manifestation emanating from God

Aniadus - the virtue or efficacy of things; life force

Buddhi - wisdom independent of knowledge or learning

Candali - literally, "fierce" or "wrathful"; Vajrayana word for a kind of heat generated and experienced during certain types of meditation practices; this heat burns through impurities and confusion

Chayot - the "lightning flash" described by Ezekiel; it is sometimes used to describe states of spiritual ecstasy

Daka - literally, "one who goes into the sky"; "hero" or "warrior"; formally, a masculine Yidam of semi-wrathful appearance; generally, a type of protector or messenger

Erodinium - an omen, hidden until after the fact, then a presage signifying a recurrence of the event; a ripple or node of synchronicity

Glyph - from Greek glyphe, meaning "carved work"; a symbolic figure or character usually incised or carved in relief

Hsin - the intuition; the original mind; the pure and distilled essence of the vital force, ch'i

Hsu - an important Taoist concept meaning "emptiness" or "nonexistence," in the sense of stillness and receptivity

Ignis Leonis - elemental fire; also called Fire of the Lion, Aether, Pyr, Aethos, and Jupiter Argos

Insufflation - to blow or breathe upon; frequently used in healing to transmit the life force; some practitioners recommend alternating cold and warm breath; many shamanic healers also use the technique of drawing out harmful energy or spirits using the breath

Kamea - a "magic square" used in talismanic magic to produce sigils, which are produced by converting a word or name into numbers and then tracing the numbers on the kamea appropriate to the force being channeled

Khaba - an ancient Egyptian word for a part of the soul of a human being; the astral body

Khaib - the shadow; an ancient Egyptian term for the Body of Habits, the part of the human soul which leaves the body at death and may continue an independent existence; symbolized by a shadow cast in sunlight

Loka - place, locality, world, or plane; there are rupa-lokas (material spheres) and arupa-lokas (spiritual spheres)

Maqam - the continual awareness of the presence of God; grace

Necessitas - the mother of the Three Fates in Roman mythology

Otz Chaim - the Tree of Life

Phantasmata - a thought-form capable of communication

Spagirus - a person who can separate the true from the false, the good from the bad, the pure from the impure, yet reject duality and cleave to unity

Tiamat - the Babylonian goddess of the primeval chaos ocean, usually described as an immense dragon; she was eventually slain by Marduk and split in two, one half becoming heaven and the other half becoming earth

Vril - a mysterious, universal force responsible for evolution and spiritual transformation; the fire of the gods

Wakan - an American Indian term for the force which suffuses the world and maintains cosmic order; it is the force behind magic and reveals itself in visions and prophecies

Zos - the body considered as a whole; was used by Austin Osman Spare to refer to the total field of sensation and awareness; is symbolized by the hand

Source ⚜ More: Word Lists ⚜ Part 1

[silaslich]

Quiet sunlit places

Simon “Ghost” Riley x f!reader [callsign - Scout]

Summary - Times change and so does Scout’s relationship with Ghost. It’s been weeks since she’s seen him and she’s happy to see him when he comes home.

Wc - 8.6k

Cw - 18+, smut, fingering, PinV sex, mention of injury, established relationship, soft Ghost, written in 3rd person with no physical description of female character whatsoever

Dreary raining England.

A sharp bite in the cold spring breeze, all wet grass and misted fog, sitting heavy in the air. Soil and earth. Petrichor permeating on the wind, carrying with it the change in season. The bloom in the flowers and the shifting shade of colour in the leaves that sit stark on the branches.

The sunrise was barely breaking over the horizon, peachy-violet sky blotched with peeling yellow clouds and tints of silvery blue. Yet, despite the hour, Scout had already been up for hours, body unable to slacken and take a back step due to the ever changing internal clock she was forced to accustom herself to.

It wasn’t a problem, not really, not when it was this peaceful back in Herefordshire.

Back at Stirling Lines, back to where it all first started for her and most of her squadron too. These training grounds and drill fields; grazed knees and busted lips, split knuckles and bruised bodies. Harsh words thrown with no true malice behind them, wet clothes sticking to skin and hours spent laying in the ankle-deep mud.

These memories. Scout could still remember the aches and the pains; pins and needles in her legs from kneeling for hours on end, her neck and shoulders sore from having to hold the weight of a teammate across her back for extraction drills, all of it felt like it were just yesterday.

Back when she was merely a wet behind the ears trooper, willing to please, awaiting her next command with the same eagerness of a heeling dog. She had always wanted to test the waters to see how far she could go; a test of her wills and patience and determination, a real taster for what was to come. For what the army would make of her. Going back to those times, it got Scout thinking, realising just how far she’d come in the years since she’d joined up.

No longer was she that cocky teenager with a big mouth and even bigger hunger for validation; desperate to fit in and find a place. Maybe her cockiness had shifted into a more self aware confidence, the self acknowledgment that she did in fact know what she was doing- and she did it fucking well.

~

She ran until she felt the familiar burn searing in her lungs. Feet hitting the ground in lengthened strikes, one two one two one two, patterned and controlled in tandem. Her lips agape, greedily heaving on air as she pushed for a sprint, arms swinging as her hair stuck to the perspiration on her forehead. She rounded the end of the field length, trainers scuffing against the tarmac as she slowed down too quickly, heaving chest straining as she braced her palms on her knees- sucking down air.

The pain was caught in her sternum, a ripened burn, sickly and exhilarating all the same. She whistled as she straightened up, stretching her spine till she was arched back slightly, swinging her arms to cross over the top of her head to allow more air into her poor-screaming lungs. Somehow, a smile found its way to her lips, toothy and giddy. Pulse racing under her skin, buzzing with so much adrenaline that she needed to walk it off, let the steam billow away on the crisp breeze as she jogged laps to sate the itch of fire in her bloodstream.

It had been weeks since the entirety of 141 had all been together under the same roof. After the explosion incident in buttfuck Mexico, it seemed the missions were now staggered; for Scout at least. Laswell’s attempt to ease her back in gently, you need to walk before you can run she’d said.

Scout had been sent on more reconnaissance based infills, gathering information, tagging phone lines and contact points, get in-get out type shit. Gaz had been more than efficient company, made it all the more easy, in and out without a hitch, without so much as a footprint in the sand.

It had been more than two months. Scout’s broken collarbone had healed within one and for a fleeting moment, as soon as she got her medical clearance, that wet behind the ears rookie was back. Waiting for more, chomping at the bit to get a move on and get down to the nitty gritty, to find some real sustenance to sink her canines into. She’d kept herself busy, not allowing the pull in her fractured ribs or the ache in her clavicle to hold her back; she hit the treadmill and ran laps, sweat slicked skin and furrowed brow, pushing through the pain - determined to keep her place within the team, unable to comprehend what would happen if she were sent on medical leave.

When the first mission from Laswell came in after Scout had healed, the soldier had actually jumped out of her chair; Price, Ghost, Soap and Gaz all eyeing her from their peripherals as Laswell continued with her brief via video call. All of them stuffed into a meeting room, blue felt chairs that were uncomfortable and small, the blinds a dusty beige, stifling atmosphere suddenly feather light to Scout with the bright prospect of leaving base.

Scout accepted without question, a swell in her chest as she insisted to Laswell that she was more then fit to take on the task, she didn’t want to focus on the blistering gaze that folded over her from across the other side of the table, she could feel it, strong and burrowing as it dug into her flesh. When the team filed out of the room to head for dinner in the canteen, Ghost had stayed behind the group, still eyeing up Scout as she fell into step with Soap, lapping up his conversation like she always did. He watched her, half her face hidden from his view, the slight stretch of her smile he could see, teeth and all, cheeks swelled with the effort of it as her eyes crinkled when Soap told a shit joke.

“What gets wetter the more it dries?” He’d asked her pointedly, elbow in her ribs with that shit smirk plastered across his face.

“I don’t know, Johnny” she’d raised a brow, leant in close to hear his reply, Soap smiled.

“A towel” his smile was audible.

Ghost had watched from a few steps back as Scout swatted at the Scotsman, told him he was a stupid git and that she would be getting him a joke book for his birthday because his were all shit.

That feeling was back in Ghost’s chest again, squirming like a can of worms, reminding him that there was in fact bones and organs beneath the hard shell of skin on the outside. Shelled like a walnut, tough and impossible to crack in a naked palm, but not hard enough to withhold its shape when pressed in a vice - forced to break and open up to reveal what’s inside.

He wanted nothing more then to maintain his distance from her, to keep her at bay and keep himself from tainting her with the sharp edges and jagged lines of him. He’d cut her if he wasn’t careful. Perfect skin bleeding crimson, scarred under his hands, bruised between his teeth, marked for everyone to see.

Ghost just couldn’t bring himself to say no to her, he tried to blame Scout, tried to convince himself that he was indulging her wishes beyond his better judgment; but that wasn’t the case. He was a cruel and selfish bastard, he wanted her to the point it was a throbbing ache deep in the marrow of his bones, and unlike before, it wasn’t just a sexual craving anymore. He craved her smile; how he’d kiss the lines that appeared on her cheeks when she did, lips as gentle as he was able. He craved her scent, that softness; rounded and sweet and so- her. Something gentle, not strong or sickly; powdery like fresh bedsheets, something soft and floral and so fucking addicting that he could never get enough of it. So much so he didn’t like washing his sheets, hated that when he did he would lay his head on his pillow at night and not catch the drifting whiff of her in his nose; sea foam and nectarines, honey and lavender. Something so unenforceable and yet; it could knock him to his knees, he didn’t know if it was her shampoo or perfume, he never asked, he just knew that he never wanted her to change it.

That was the shit that scared him, how he craved every tiny inch of her, how he wanted to pull her laugh from her chest and bottle it as if it were something rare and unseen- to Ghost, it was. He didn’t like that this is what she did to him, and from what he could deduce, she was totally and utterly oblivious to it all.

After Scout’s accident in Mexico, Ghost had lost count of how many nights he found himself reaching out for her as he tried to sleep, seeking her out in the night, wanting to call her no matter what the hour, just to hear her voice in his ear again. Another craving.

She had remained grounded at base while he was quickly sent out on his next mission. Before, Ghost would have welcomed the breathing space from her, some time for him to gather his thoughts before he would next see her again. Now though, he found himself itching to touch back down at base, counting down the minutes till he was back in the same vicinity as her, it wasn’t like him at all.

No longer was his ache for her just carnal and lust-filled, it was something that genuinely scared him, an unfamiliar feeling creeping up on him till it made him nauseous. Ghost had seen countless heinous things in his time, he’d committed them too; so why the fuck was this little soldier plaguing him so? Why the fuck was he laying awake wondering where she was or if she was okay? It was unfamiliar territory for him, and he didn’t like it one little bit.

He must have spaced out, because he didn’t even notice that she was now at his side, eyes focussed forward with a neutral expression as she struggled to match his strides. Ghost slowed for her immediately, dark eyes falling to her lip as she rolled it between her teeth, nervous. He raised a brow, expression hidden beneath his mask, as usual. Before he could speak, Scout did it for him.

“You think I shouldn’t go” it wasn’t a question, because she believed she was right.

No, that wasn’t what he thought; Ghost knew she could hold her own, he’d seen it with his own eyes, a force to be reckoned with, cataclysmic and calamitous.

He’d watched her rip a man’s throat out with a grappling hook, cornered like a feral dog with no other choice but to use what she had, she had regrouped with the team with so much blood on her that it was hard for them to tell where hers began and the enemies ended. Clumped into her lashes and sprayed across her cheeks, drying and flaking from the dry humid air but with no option to wash up. There were too many times to recall in which Scout had turned, like a switch in her head; snapped necks and gauged eyes, bullets lodged through skulls and countless enemies drowned in shallow buckets even after giving up the information she came for.

There was no way Ghost could perceive her as soft or fragile, convince himself that she needed protecting or shielding from the throws of war, she was very much in-tune with it all. She was a force of nature, beautiful yet all so fucking devastating, an unstoppable potency of might behind those strong eyes. A fold of determination knitted into her brow almost every time he looked at her when out in the field, she was strong willed with a compulsion to fight, engrained into the fibres of her bones, it was in her fucking DNA.

Ghost blinked down at her and she finally cocked her head to meet his gaze, he could see it, she was going to go on that mission regardless of what he had to say, but part of her was reluctant.

Reluctant in the sense that she knew her sense of judgment would, more often then not, come before his. Yes, he was her lieutenant and yes she would follow orders, but when things boiled down; Scout wouldn’t take things laying down, if it was her life on the line for the sake of her team or a larger narrative, then her funeral was already planned.

The lieutenant looked ahead, the others too distracted as they made their way to the stairwell that led downstairs to the food hall, he darted his eyes from her to them a few times before he finally pounced. His fingers tightened around the fabric sitting on Scout’s shoulders, throwing his eyes back over his shoulder as he pushed her into a doorway that sat at the top of the stairwell, around a corner and well hidden.

She gasped but Ghost was quick to press a gloved hand over her mouth, snuffing out the noise, he jutted his chin- watching over the solid wall of the banister separating them from the stairs below, the boys were long gone. When he turned his gaze back to her it made his stomach lurch with that familiar licking heat at the base of his spine, coiling to the forefront; she was wide eyed, neck craned back to look at him better, he could so easily shove her to her knees right here. Fuck her throat till she sobbed and spluttered nonsense around his cock, what he would fucking give.

Ghost removed his hand from her mouth, her pretty lips agape as she breathed in deep, eyes suddenly all glossy and wide for him. He couldn’t help but find her pretty like this, secretly tucked away with him, preempting his movement as her head swam. She probably thought he’d press her against the wall, hook her leg over his hip and fuck her silly till he convinced her not to take the mission; but as much as the thought tempted him, he couldn’t do that.

He raised his hand instead, a soft gesture as he pressed his gloved palm to her cheek, running his thumb over the small stretched scar that now sat there. A marred line of silvery-pink splitting her cheek - contrasting to the smooth of her skin, a reminder that back in Mexico, Ghost hadn’t quite been quick enough.

She practically purred at his touch, pressing into him, her own hand coming to lay over his.

“I don’t care if you go” he finally said, words gruff in that deep throaty tone of his. She frowned, barely enough for him to catch but still enough for him to notice, his eyes flashed.

“I just need you to come back” he cocked his head at her, pressing his gaze into her as if he would be able to see the cogs turn and gears whirr. Scout closed her mouth, mulling over his words, digesting the real meaning behind them -

I just need you to come back to me

She had nodded gently, eyes softening as she began to understand. Ghost didn’t flinch away when she moved her hand from his and pressed it against the hem of his mask, tugging it up from where it was tucked into his collar, shoving it up till it sat against the bridge of his nose; after that he hadn’t needed guiding, hadn’t needed Scout to initiate anymore. He’d kissed her till her knees wobbled, clinging to his shoulder as his tongue curled over her teeth, unable to keep himself from falling into her.

Scout had to shove him away with considerable force and remind him that they’d miss lunch if he wasn’t careful.

“I can have something else for lunch” he’d growled lowly in her ear, cupping her pussy through her jeans as she stifled her moan in the collar of his jacket, fisting it tight in her hands.

That was three weeks ago, now. In the time since then herself and Gaz had been sent on their reconnaissance assignment and returned. Soap and Ghost had been sent on a hostage evacuation in Russia; somewhere close to Moscow.

A politician, of course, had gotten caught up in the wrong kind of people, it was always the same thing time after time. All about the money and the power, blackmailing and illegal trading, the team had seen it more times than they cared to count. Yet, they still shipped out, because they’re still pressed under the thumbs of the government at the end of the day.

As Scout continued to try and settle the adrenaline buzzing away under her skin; walking her third lap of the training yard, a familiar whistle whipped and echoed around the emptiness of the air, catching her attention. She turned toward the sound, eyes narrowing as they fell on a tall figure, mohawk too hideous to miss. She smiled and moved to jog toward him, breath fanning back across her face as she neared closer to him.

Soap must have only just gotten back, his thick weathered jacket was zipped to his chin and his neck gaiter was sitting snug around his throat and pulled to his lips. He looked tired and content, undoubtedly a mission success, his hands were folded lazily in his pockets as he watched Scout come closer.

The man held out his palm to her, Scout clapping her own against it and gripping it, pulling him toward her and pressing her other palm against his shoulder, tucking herself into his side for a hug as the scent of him drifted into her nose. He smelled of gunpowder and old coins, something else spicy yet sturdy mingling on the soft skin of this throat.

“Long time no see, sarg” she’d smiled, stepping back out of his space, folding her arms over her chest as she did. He cocked his head toward her.

“It’s been a while hasn’t it, lass” a soft smile slanted across his mouth, eyes rolling over her features as he looked at her.

There was no way she could help it, but Scout let her eyes quickly dart to the space behind the sergeant, hoping his hulking British counterpart wasn’t far behind. She refocused her attention quickly, grateful that Soap was looking around the training yard, noting she was out here all by herself.

The smaller soldier palmed the back of her neck, rolling it out. “When did you get back in?”

Soap met her eye, “just” he said, “Ghost’s debriefing Laswell as we speak” he sounded tired, his accent thicker and trickier to decipher than it usually was. It wasn’t surprising, it’s hard to get used to the ever changing pace the military forces down their throats, even if they do get time to shut their eyes, it’s never peaceful. In a foreign country, miles from home soil, the prospect of a blood filled brawl looming over their head - it’s not exactly a recipe for peaceful slumber.

Soap’s eyes drifted back out into the training yard, the fog was lifting, a veil of it attempting to cloud the sunrise as it bloomed over the horizon. Orange and blue.

Scout stood beside him, close enough to feel the heat of him against the sweat cooling on her skin, she followed his gaze as he broke the silence. “D’ya remember when we first met you?” He tipped his chin slightly as he asked, eyes falling to Scout’s to gage her reaction, as if he wanted to watch her replay the memory in her head.

She smiled, “how could I forget?”

Going back years, now, back when Scout wasn’t Scout. When she was just a soldier; a number pulled from a hat, one standing in the line of many. That was before she was handpicked for her remarkable skill and technical ability, known only by her last name and her title; sergeant. A holder of drill records and the subject of many conversations between soldiers. The one with the big mouth and wavering temper, the one who spoke her truth and her mind, and had the skills to back up her words too.

Price had found her, or rather, she had been found for him. Put forward and recommended time after time, with each new mission or special task force assembled, her name was shoved into the hands of captains and generals alike. Her temper and sharp tongue got in the way a lot of the time, because for each time she was written up for standing up for herself or holding her ground, it only had another opportunity scratched for her.

Until Price was made aware of her, until a file attachment found its way to his emails with video link after video link of this sergeant in action during training. She was quick and nimble; a near perfect shot as a sniper and a dab hand at demolition, even her hand to hand was remarkable, against opponents much bigger and stronger than her. Her statistics spoke for themselves, it was all there in black and white, she was undoubtedly an asset.

Captain Price snapped her up at the first chance he got. He read over her records, he wasn’t put off by the write ups, didn’t even make him question her for a second. It made him think about how well she might fit into his varied team, simply another personality to add to the handful of others he already had clashing in the group, there was nothing more that could surprise him. Especially not after Soap, that time he’d punched a military police officer, there was little more that could stop Price from accepting someone into his force.

The transfer had been a quick turn around. With her gear packed she was shipped off on her way, a truck carrying her to her new base, her new home away from home.

As the tires rolled across the tarmac and crunched to a stop, the sergeant had stolen a gaze out of her window, met with what looked to be her entire team. Four men and a woman, she recognised the woman as Kate Laswell, and one of the men as her new Captain - having met him before the transfer. The rest of the men she had yet to meet, for obvious reasons, and she half thought she would get time to retrieve her bag before she was forced to face her new team. Obviously not.

She jumped out of the vehicle, gear weighing her down as her boots collided with the concrete. It was dead silent and she had the subconscious urge to fill it, if this is what this team was like, she had a feeling her personality wouldn’t fit in well here. She stepped forward, flipping her cap around so it’s visor faced backwards, better for her to make eye contact with the tall men standing sturdy in front of her. The sergeant left her bag in the truck, immediately stepping forward toward her new team, and that’s when she caught it.

“Who let the Boy Scouts start signin’ up?”

The voice was low and stoney, it made her bristle, clenching her teeth as her eyes darted toward the source of the snide comment. She was met with a mask. A balaclava stitched with a skull around the lower jaw, dark eyes glaring pointedly at her like she’d done something to purposefully offend the man. She took the bait. “Same ones who let pricks like you rank up” she’d said it before she registered it, too used to her own base, throwing insults back at soldiers who made quips and remarks day in-day out. For a split second, she’d forgotten where she was, the muscle memory of the verbal self defence too engrained for her to stop it.

Two of the men whistled, she later learned they were Gaz and Soap, the latter patting the masked man on the shoulder as he recoiled from her remark. “That Boy Scout is a fuckin lass, L.t” the Scotsmen roared a laugh, and for a second she thought it was directed at her, but it was in fact directed at the man in the mask. She quickly realised, not only had she insulted a member of her team, he was her new Lieutenant. She froze in her step, eyes still locked with the mask and she saw something flash within his irises, it was a quick fleeting realisation for him. He had thought she was a man, a small one, with the cap and the gear he’d failed to register from a distance that she was a woman.

Only when she came closer into his clear view and spoke did he realise she was female, the softness in her cheeks and the lines of her body screamed anything but Boy Scout.

From that day forward she had been dubbed; Scout. An endearing inside joke between the team that would stay with her until she resigned from duty or died out on the field. A nickname she grew to love, because of the man who had ultimately given it to her, forever reminding both of them of their first ever interaction, even if it wasn’t the way they wished it had gone.

On her first mission shipping out with 141, Scout had been going through her pack, rearranging and swapping things out to put things in, going over it all over and over again until it gave her a headache. She emptied a front pocket, undoing the zip to find a scrunch of folded paper stuffed inside of it. She tentatively pulled it out, curious, finding a swirl of bold writing scratched into it. A simple sorry with a tiny drawing of a skull etched into the paper next to it.

She would never tell him, but Scout still had that piece of paper saved- carried in the front pocket of her vest wherever she went.

Soap and Scout stood there in the cold, stupid slanting smiles as they reminisced on their past, light memories of better times. When none of them were injured and they worked on base together for weeks at a time to strengthen their bond as a team, now it felt as if they were passing ships.

The relationship between Scout and the Scotsman was rooted in the same boar-headedness and alike ideals. They were so similar it caused them to butt heads a lot of the time, always trying to one up each other in the sense that they both lacked self preservation, always willing to throw their life in the mix when things got tricky.

Ghost didn’t like it; he had to do enough babysitting with just Soap alone, keeping a rein on his outlandish ideas and suicide plans - then Scout had come along and shoved her stick into the pot.

Despite their similarities when it came to work ethics, they were vastly different in personality. While the Scot was loudmouthed, extroverted and downright unabashed with the attention his presence warranted; Scout was much more reserved, adding her ten pence where it mattered, but watching from the sidelines - not at all wanting the attention to drift to her.

Yet, it always did, inevitably, a lass like her- in a job like this. It drew attention, all of it Ghost hated; drunkards in pubs that would slink up to her at the bar and beg to buy her a drink, the rookies on base were the worst of it all, a constant dick measuring contest between them, desperate to see who could get her to bite first.

Much to Ghost’s pleasure, Scout did always bite, just not they way they were intending.

The day Scout got pulled in by the higher ups for breaking a kids wrist had, undoubtedly, been one of the best days of Ghost’s life.

He’d watched it all unfold, not bothering to intervene as he continued to finish his reps on the chest pull, eyes watching intently as the rookie sidled up to her from across the gym with his chest puffed out, daring to let his hand slide over the small of Scout’s back as she leant down to tie her shoelace. It was like a whip cracking, so quick you’d miss it if you blinked, her concise movement and perfect angle had snapped the poor bastards wrist in two, the shrieking wail of pain he let out having everyone in the gym bristling and swivelling their heads.

Scout hadn’t said a single word to him, barely broken a sweat, not even a slight change to her expression.

She’d stood her ground when they threatened to discharge her; told them that she had every right to do what she did, that it was an engrained reflex, a tick from the army, a reaction to any kind of foreign touch that she wasn’t expecting. Ghost knew she’d blagged it, played it smart, fed them what they didn’t want to hear. She was safe on base, for the most part - especially with Ghost there, and Scout didn’t have as many years under her belt as Ghost did. So when she told them that it was purely a chemical reaction in her brain after the years of fighting and looking over her shoulder, they had no option but to send her on her way with merely a slap on the wrist.

Safe to say she was given a wide birth around base after that.

That’s when Ghost had realised; Scout was so much like him, and maybe that’s why they understood each other so well. Both basking in the shadows, watching from afar yet still engaging in conversation when it was needed, a preference to remain settled in the background. Ghost’s was an aversion to the socialising, he was calculated in his thoughts, eyes always watching the exits and doorways, knife sheathed in his waistband at all times. It wasn’t paranoia, he was just well versed enough to know that this line of work would catch up to him somewhere one day, he just didn’t know when and where.

Whereas Scout was simply quieter in her nature, she’d aged in her years of service; despite the stories Price and other soldiers had to tell of a young spitfire with no filter and a habit of getting into bar fights, Ghost struggled to imagine that of her. Even when they went to the pub on a rare occasion, she’d barely finish the one rum and coke she would order, sipping at it gingerly as she watched Soap chat up a bird across the bar. The Scot had called her boring once, a night of respite in Galway, drunk words spitting at her to pull the stick out of her arse every once in a while; she’d sat quiet, eyeing Soap as she took another sip, unbothered about engaging with him.

Ghost had his suspicions, expected she wasn’t one to hold her alcohol well, she’d either spin someone’s jaw or spill her feelings for all to see - but it was abundantly clear; she didn’t want to do either of those things in front of these boys. Maybe if she was just another soldier, a troop in a squadron, pulled out of line by her number; but she wasn’t. She was special forces, she had earned her place here amongst them, and she wasn’t about to put it in jeopardy over embarrassment or image issues.

It was another hour before Ghost was done with his debrief to Laswell.

Scout wouldn’t admit it, but she milled around, walking through the corridors, eyeing the ceiling or watching as her boots scuffed the floor. She managed a shower between making her rounds of the base, had little more to do than wait for him, it was like this every time, some way or another, he would find her.

It was only when she bumped into Price that she noticed something off- because he was on the phone to Laswell.

The captain mouthed a greeting but continued on his way, speaking into his phone with a hushed voice. That in itself wasn’t abnormal, Price was always wrapped up with other duties; a constant stack of files atop his desk that he loathed having to sort through, more often then not he had to get someone to physically lock him into his office so it would get done.

What was strange on the other hand- was Ghost’s absence. Sometimes, when he’d had a rough go at it on a mission he would return sour. Cut himself off and shut himself away to gather himself, lick his metaphorical wounds in secret like a battered dog. Scout understood it, any soldier did, it’s hard to speak openly about what they see when they’re out there, it’s even hardener to try and get it off their chest - because anyone in the closest proximity has seen the same, if not worse. It’s not the nicest feeling to dump shit on someone that already has a growing closet of their own skeletons.

Ghost wasn’t privy to Scout’s skeletons, much like she wasn’t his. They weren’t there yet, maybe they never would be, but regardless; they still understood. One of the few unspoken things between them, it seemed like they just knew what was and wasn’t needed. She didn’t pry into his past, him the same regarding her, because they both knew that they weren’t ready to play therapist. It was enough to deal with what was coming and going, dealing with the present - the now.

They’d deal with the rest when they were dead.

When Scout’s thoughts started to trail away from her, the ping of her phone drew her attention. It was embarrassing how quick she wrenched it from her pocket, eyes dancing over the notification with a new found excitement.

Come to bed

Read: 10:17am

Short. Concise. To the point. A point Scout had no room in her chest to argue with.

If someone asked her what Ghost was to her, she wasn’t sure what she would say. This, arrangement between them, it had clearly gone past the point of a physical use of one another to strip away the tension and angst of war. No longer was it just simply fucking, of course the sex had started as the deeper rooted catalyst, but the sex was - dare she say, tender.

Before, it hurt, because it needed to hurt; Scout had wanted it to hurt. She hurt him as much as he hurt her, blood under her nails and on her tongue, teeth stained with him. That’s what it had all been about, drawing that pain from within one another, using it as a crutch instead of drowning themselves with tumbler after tumbler of whiskey or numbing it all with prescription opioids.

When the two of them had first crossed the line; it had been a spur of the moment drunken fumbling. Back then, Scout had told herself that wether it was Soap, Gaz or Ghost who put the offer out there, she wouldn’t have minded. Because she needed to relieve that coiling burn in her chest and abdomen, it felt like she would go insane if she didn’t.

Now, she slipped into his room carefully, latch clicking back into place as she shut it quietly. It was dark, the only light being that of the steadily waking sky, flittering through the cracks above and below the shoddy curtains that didn’t quite reach across the entire window. It wasn’t dark enough that she couldn’t seek him out, he blended with the shadows, but Scout was sure she could seek him out even if she was blind and deaf with her hands cut off. She could make out the outline of him, framed in a wave of heat that rolled from him, steady even breathing fanning freely from his nose.

His mask was off.

He didn’t move, didn’t so much as flinch as his dark eyes watched her, like a predator waiting to pounce, a crocodile watching as a sweet deer drinks from the watering hole. Soon between its teeth, weak noises bleeding out with its last ragged breath.

Scout stopped at the foot of his bed, tugging off her shoes before she dug her knees into his mattress, making her way closer.

He shifted “take it all off” his voice rasped, low and full of sleep. Gravel and ice. It sent heat licking down her spine, a shiver running straight down to her toes. Of course, she obliged, she stepped off the bed again and did as asked, dutiful soldier she was - anything for her Lieutenant.

Again, she couldn’t see him, not entirely, but she could feel his gaze. How he practically stripped her with his own eyes, boring through her skin and deep into the marrow of her bones. It made her slick between her thighs, just the thought of him had her pressing her knees together. She ached for him, felt the pull in her muscles every time he fucked her like it would be the last time, because one day - it just might just be.

Scout joined him again, she heard him shift, sitting straighter against the wall at the head of his bunk. Now she was close, her thigh pressing into his as he pulled her closer by the wrist, she felt the coarse hair on his leg against her flesh. He was already stripped bare himself, save for his boxers, freshly showered and warm- he was entirely and utterly open.

His fingers didn’t release from around her wrist, he tugged till she was awkwardly strewn across his lap, his other hand shifting to hold the base of her neck, bringing the top of her head to his lips.

“Fuckin’ missed you” all smoke and gunpowder in her ears, so low it was almost a whisper. He took a long drag into his nostrils, already on his way to being high off her scent, shampoo from her hair fresh and sweet to his senses. Scout pressed her palms against his chest, the heat almost burning, feverish under her fingertips.

“I missed you too” she let the words drift to him, even if the light was too dim, she still couldn’t bring herself to match his gaze. Maybe he had said it first, but that could easily be put down to the jet lag, delirious from the lack of sleep and the draining aftermath once the adrenaline of a mission washes away.

Ghost grumbled something low, pure sex as it rose from the depths of his chest. His palm slid from the back of her head to her neck, then to her throat, light pressure as he pulled her mouth flush to his. Scout keened, palm holding his jaw as his tongue slid over hers, claiming her mouth. The dance was well rehearsed, each move in tandem, like running through a check list. His hands roamed, tugging her as close as she could possibly be- any closer and she’d melt into him.

The only barrier between their sexes were their underwear, sliding friction of her clothed pussy against the strain in his boxers. Ghost growled in his throat as Scout moved to straddle him, knees splitting painfully wide over his hips, ass seated on the meat of his glorious thighs. Their mouths never parted, cresting teeth biting into her lip as she gasped, calloused palms kneading the flesh of her thighs and ass till she mewled. She was so wet already, soaked to her core, slick and hot and ready for him to ruin her again and again.

“Fuck” she whispered against his mouth, biting smile curling his mouth afterwards as he rubbed his stubbled jaw into the soft crook of her neck, inhaling the scent of her skin. Scout was more intoxicating than any whiskey or bourbon Ghost was yet to encounter, more addicting in the same sense, a sturdy punch to the gut.

Ghost leaned forward, uncoiling his arm from behind her back, pressing his fingers into the sopping fabric covering the cleft of her pussy, teasing. She cowered, practically shivering under his touch, so keen for him that it made her shake. His other hand gripped her chin, pinched between his thumb and forefinger, Scout focused her eyes- noticing she could just about catch the fleeting light in those amber-hickory eyes.

It sent another shiver down her spine, liquid want pooling in her belly, drawing her even closer into him. She pressed forward, kissing him again, raking her tongue over his teeth with any ounce of dominance she could muster; Ghost grinned against her mouth, how bold of her, he would let her take as much as she was willing.

He revelled in the way she reacted to him. In every sense, her body; the way he could merely look at her from across a room and she’d cross her legs, he didn’t miss the little gestures. He didn’t even have to touch her to get under her skin, just his gaze and presence alone could draw things from her.

He wished he could watch it back, still letting her kiss him with a feverish clash of teeth and small-calloused hands gripping the skin of his tummy, her nails raking deep into his skin as he took her off guard. All of the air from her lungs was punched out when Ghost curled two thick digits into her cunt, crooking against her gummy walls, so slick for him already. She screwed her eyes shut, head thrown back as she squirmed, grinding down against the friction of his hand. He hummed, feeling how she dripped onto his wrist, the smell of her arousal already tacky in the air, lust and sex stifling the air in his room.

“So fuckin’ tight darlin’” he rasped, lips sucking a bruise between her tits as he leant forward, angling his wrist to reach even deeper, drawing all the best sounds from her pretty throat.

“Shit- Simon” she whined, lip between her teeth as she arched backwards, palms pressing against his shins as she worked herself on his fingers, pressing her tits into his face as he sucked and lapped at the tender skin there.

She never tired of it. Couldn’t, even if she tried, she would never meet another man or woman that would make her feel the way Ghost was able. It was as if he knew her body, knew what made her tick, almost like he could feel it - somatic.

Scout near enough shrieked when he pressed the pad of his thumb against her clit, a new found urge to make her cum driving its way deep in his chest. He added another finger, screwing into her, splitting her open so she could easily take his cock. She savoured it, amusing him when she bucked her hips, rolling them against the strokes of his hands, meeting him halfway.

“Look at you, gorgeous, so desperate to be filled” she could taste his smirk when he claimed her lips in another filthy kiss, smothering her down, any noise from her dissipating when he curled his fingers in that way he knew she liked, she craved it. Scout couldn’t help it, couldn’t even think about keeping quiet, she was panting against his skin, fogging him up.

“Fuck- I’m-“ she swallowed, throat dry, “I’m gonna cum like this” she tells him but he already knows, gladly acknowledges the fluttering of her walls around the notches of his knuckles.

“Go on then” he presses, teasing her clit again, rocking the heel of his palm against her in rhythm, watching as she throws her head back just as her world shatters.

She’s always so pretty when she cums he thinks, he’d give an arm or a leg to watch the sight over and over again whenever he wished, no missions or obligations to keep her from him. It’s selfish, but he can’t seem to give a shit, not when he’s got her here like this, curled into him, fucking herself on his hand, all to get her ready to split open on his cock.

Before it’s fully settled, her orgasm fizzing out, she’s grabbing at him, shoving his boxers down his thighs with an awkward tug that makes him smirk, lifting his hips as she manhandles him to make it easy for her. Ghost almost bites through his bottom lip when he watches her, pretty pink tongue running from the heel of her palm to the tip of her fingers, wetting it to get him slick, pressing her hand to his cock and curling her fingers around him - it makes him choke. He rumbles in his chest, it’s been so long since he’s had her, too long since he’s had her smell under his nose and his skin under his fingers, it sets a coil of resentment settling in his chest. Fuck whatever power in the universe that keeps pulling them in opposite directions, Ghost is a smart man, but his patience and loyalty to his work be damned; right now, he’d give it all up for her.

His hands settle at her hips when she shifts, angles herself up, resting higher on her knees so she can press the head of his cock between the slicked folds of her pussy, get him soaked in her juices so the sting doesn’t bite too hard. Because it will, it’s been weeks, longer than he’s been away because he hadn’t wanted to hurt her when she was injured - no matter how hard she tried to convince him that she’d be fine.

Ghost’s fingers sink right to the bones in her hips when she begins to press herself down onto him, inch by torturous fucking inch she goes, rocks her hips so the head catches something fleshy inside, makes his eyes roll like marbles in his skull.

“Christ” she bites out, jaw clenched, features of that pretty face twisted in pain. Such a brave girl he thinks - knows, always trying to put on a front, even as she fucks herself on his cock. He reaches a big paw up, slides it over her cheek and holds her still, those teary eyes looking at him like he holds the world in his hand - right now, he does.

“Breathe, love” he whispers, tenderly, as best he can.

She nods at him, matches the way he takes a deep breath in and out, helps her flatten her pelvis to his, sunken to the hilt, stuffed to the brim with his cock and his adoration. It’s a sickly feeling, how soft he can be, how he reserves it all for her, stuffs her full of it till it all spills over: drowning her in it.

Scout rolls her hips forward, catching friction on the thatch of hair at his groin, pressing her chest to his so their flesh slicks up together, her nipples catching over his chest, too close for comfort and yet still not close enough.

“You’re so good” he lets free, jaw slack as he mouths over her jaw, chaste open-mouth kisses littered over any patch of skin he can reach. His words make her chest swell, fuzzy and static, too much warmth from him that makes her clench around his cock. Scout slurs a curse under her breath.

“Never get used to this” she breathes, whispers it into his throat when he presses up and forward, fucking up into her so her tits sway against him and she’s forced to brace her hands onto his biceps.

“Me neither, darlin’” he sucks a bruise into her throat, feeling how it makes her pussy walls tighten, fluttering around him, coaxing his release out of him like she’s moulded for him.

Neither of them last, she’s already ahead of him, but it doesn’t take much for Ghost to see the light, bathed in the starchy blissful heat that sears every nerve ending in his body, wringing him out for everything he’s worth. He can’t help himself, he presses the pad of his thumb to her sore clit even as she’s cumming, pumping her cunt full of his cum, brimming at the seams till it leaks back out and smothers between where their hips press tightly together. She pulls out everything he has to offer, seizing it all and not letting anything be left behind, only then does she sag into him. Pressed into each other as lays atop him, face tilted up so her jaw sits in the space between his neck and his jaw, only inches between their faces.

He never used to; but he’s become accustomed to the afterglow, it’s no longer a looming and harrowing afterthought that dowses him in ice-cold reality. He basks in it now, heaving breaths that intwine with hers, nothing but the scent of sex and her skin under his nose. Pressed close.

She closes her eyes, takes it in, enjoys this time like it’s a saints gift, a holy touch. It’s rare these days, that she gets him like this, it’s not just the quick fucking between intervals, her trousers around her knees as he fucks her quick and messy somewhere secluded, tidying her up afterward and sending her on her way with a deadly smack to the arse. This is different, the part she’s growing to like too much, unknowing that he too thinks the world of this time. He finds he wants time to stop entirely, not just for the sex, but just for holding her close like this, feeling the thrum of her heartbeat as it knocks into his. Both alive and well.

Ghost slides his hand up from where it’s laid over the small of her back, that curve of her spine he likes to rake his teeth over, his hand settles on her cheek again, makes her open those pretty eyes of hers to look at him. He doesn’t say anything, the touch speaks volumes, so much so that she meets him in the middle, pushes her self up enough that she can seal her lips over his. It’s tender, sickly and sweet in a way he reserves only for these times; the two of them fucking in the safety of his bed or hers behind a locked door. Not because he’s shameful or embarrassed of her, not at all, but because he takes off the mask for her - strips Ghost away entirely so that it’s only Simon that remains.

He’s sure she knows by now, she’s not that dense, but she doesn’t make a big deal of it, she keeps it to herself like the special thing it is. Another line is stepped over, anymore and there will be no going back, but it seems neither of them want to.

Both too reliant on one another to keep each other alive and kicking.

[utilitycaster]

sort of an offshoot of that post about video game characters but I think I've mentioned before the third person v. first person split in D&D, namely, do you say "I attack it with my scimitar" or "Drizzt attacks with his scimitar". This is a well-known thing in TTRPGs, I'm sure you can find more intelligent discussion about it, but it's come up for me specifically in that a lot of old-school D&D players skew hard towards third person and often they are less interested in actual play, because they see D&D as a narrative tool. There's no self-inserts; they are narrating the exploits of a guy they made. And so the parasocial elements (which are not necessarily bad, it just depends, and that's another post) have no appeal, and even things like accents don't really.

I don't think third person vs. first person necessarily means "not a self insert vs. self insert." I switch between the two and often use first person. But I don't feel like any D&D character I've played is a self-insert. They have aspects of me, sure, because of course they do, I need to be able to play them and try to think like them, but I think in a game where death and failure are really possible and where you must collaborate and where your options are rather limited - because even in D&D, they are limited by the type of game it is - it's actually vital to separate yourself out from your character.

It comes down to something I've said a lot about so many things in fiction (but yeah, this does bleed into real life): are you able to accept a character who is not like you? Are you able to accept a character who might make wildly different choices than you would? Is your capacity to empathize or see a character as a person limited by them specifically hitting some demographic or philosophical targets you have constructed? Can you, even in a low risk, fictional environment, let yourself be different from how you are.

this seems very silly but I think I may have alluded to Justin McElroy talking about not being able to play fat characters in most games, and so he often just plays characters who do not look a thing like him. He often plays as a woman of color. (I don't recall where this came up? I think it might have been on an ancient polygon video or maybe commentary on one of the TAZ seasons? I'd love to find it again). And I think that's actually really great that this was his instinct. I don't want to diminish the importance of RPGs and TTRPGs for self-discovery; obviously it's been a place for many people to explore gender and sexuality, especially, and I do not want to take away the ability for someone to play as a woman in a game before you feel like you can live as a woman publicly in real life (and notably my issues with the BG3 and Inquisition player characters are not ones of gender/sex/race, ie, I think it is personality and background that might need to be more pre-determined). But yeah, if you cannot connect with characters who aren't like you that's a problem, and it does feel a little frustrating that we know that centering a self-insert OC type makes for a worse story and people still want that.

I've always been intrigued by pre-made sheets in TTRPGs where you are limited in some way, not in a dumb "oh my god you can't play a druid bc I'm a weird vindictive dude mad that your nature magic beats my weaponry" way but just as an exploration of having to walk a mile in other people's shoes and to be a person other than one that you created to exist within your comfort zone. Because a lot of people aren't Justin, and do play themselves or as close to it as they can, regardless of what is happening around them, and I think that is a mistake.

[indig0trolls]

TINY BUSTS - PRETTY PASTELS

Yippee!! I'd originally planned to do these early September, but realized 4 sets of 4 was. A lot to space out. And then October was a wash. So you get them THIS month instead!

34$ Each! [ONE] [TWO] [THREE] [FOUR] [FIVE] [SIX] [SEVEN] [EIGHT]

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[in1-nutshell]

Silveraid in TFOne, go

I may or may not have shaken the 'Angst salt shaker' a bit too hard...

Hope you enjoy!

TF1 Silver Aid

SFW, Platonic, ANGST, Mention of injuries, Familial, Cybertronian reader

TF1

Elita and Silver Aid were a prime example of opposite split sparks.

Also known as being twins with opposite personalities.

No one could have guessed the two were related, much less twins.

Elita was the one who took charge and had more of the aggression.

Silver was less intense than her twin, opting for more peaceful and gentler approaches.

Or as gentle as you can get in the mines.

Elita had tried to toughen up her twin, but it never ended up well.

Elita punching a training pole. She turns to Silver. Elita: “Your turn.” Silver turns to the pole. Silver Aid: “Remind me why I let you talk me into this?” Elita: “Because I told you.” Silver Aid gives her a look. Silver Aid: “In what situation would I need to deck someone in the face? That’s why I have you.” Elita gives her a look. Silver Aid: “… Fine…”

Eventually Silver caught the optics of some of the miner medics and ended up moving into their sector thanks to some supervisors.

Silver still visited the mines after work.

Many of the miners welcomed the kindness the bot gave.

Elita often warned her about getting too soft.

Silver Aid would playfully roll her optics at her twin.

It was thanks to her twin that she would meet Orion and D-16.

It was… eventful when they first met.

Silver Aid walks into one of the med bay rooms. Silver Aid smiles at the two mechs in the room. Silver Aid: “Hello, I’m Silver Aid. I’ll be patching up you two up today.” Orion: “I haven’t seen you around? New around the mines?” Silver Aid starts checking his arm. Silver Aid: “Oh, I’ve been around, just moved into a new sector so you’ll only be seeing me around here.” She turns to D-16 and smiles. Silver Aid: “And what are your names?” D-16: “D-16 and that’s Orion Pax.” Silver Aid carefully buffs out a dent on the side of his chassis. D-16 feels a bit warmer. D-16: “Umm, my frame feels a bit warmer than usual.” Silver Aid: “Oh? Let me take a look.” She places a cooling patch just below the hole in his chassis. She can feel the spark pulsing fast under her digits. Silver Aid: “You need to calm down D-16. It’ll make the process go a lot faster.” D-16 nods and glances over at Orion. Orion just has a knowing look on his face plate. The same look that usually got them into trouble. Elita: “Silver Aid.” The three bots jump a bit at the sudden presence of Elita One. Silver smiles widely putting away the cooling patch and hugging Elita. The mech half expected the pink bot to flip the medic over, but to their surprise Elita just patted her back. Elita gets out of Silver’s grip. Elita: “Are these two knucklehead’s ready to go back to work?” Silver Aid: “Not yet, they still need a bit more time to heal.” Silver Aid turns to the two mechs and waves. Silver Aid: “You two are free to go. Goodbye!” Both mechs wave back as the bot left. Elita glared at them both. Elita: “Stay away from my twin.” Orion and D-16: “SHE’S YOUR TWIN!”

Both mechs have near whiplash hearing it.

How?!

After that day, Orion started dragging D to the medbay to try and meet up with Silver Aid.

Not that D-16 needed much convincing.

He really wanted to meet the medic again.

Eventually the three bots became close friends.

Especially between Silver Aid and Orion Pax, much to the dismay of D-16 and Elita-One.

D-16 and Elita-One are in one of the med bay. Orion and Silver Aid had been gone from the mines for two days and had recently gotten a message from them to meet in the med bay. Silver Aid and Orion walk into the room. D-16 sighs in relief and starts to go over to the pair but gets shoved aside by Elita. She runs to Silver’s side and looks over her. Elita: “Are you okay? What happened? What did Pax drag you into?” Orion: “Well—” D-16: “Wait you did drag her into something?” Silver Aid: “Not really. But there is something we want to tell you two.” Orion swings an arm around Silver’s shoulder with a goofy smile. Orion: “We are now officially Amica Endura!” SMACK! Orion gets punched in the face and falls backwards. Silver Aid: “Elita!” D-16 blinking in surprise. D-16: “You two… you performed the Amica rites?! How?! Why?!” Orion stands up with Silver’s help. Orion: “Relax D, Elita. It’s not like I asked her to be my Conjunx.” SMACK! Orion is once again on the ground holding his face. Silver Aid: “D!”

D didn’t want to admit it, but he was jealous of his friend for having the bearing to do something so uncommon.

Amica’s were not too common in Iacon.

Orion keeps teasing him about going out with Silver, he just wanted both his friends to get Conjunxed already.

D-16 tries punching him whenever he says this.

Elita knows that her twin has a certain optic out for a certain silver mech.

She hates it.

Often telling her that she could have any other mech, just not him or Orion.

Now to the main story.

Silver Aid is on scene when the tunnel collapses immediately going to Jazz.

Is shocked to see Elita get demoted.

She was going to need to talk to her on her break.

Silver gives D and Orion a quick smile as she quickly carries Jazz to the medbay.

Is there with d when Orion talks about going into the Iacon 500.

Silver Aid tries to be supportive of her Amica but does tell him to be a bit realistic in the fact that they didn’t even have cogs.

Accompanies D back to the mines.

Silver Aid: “Well this is our stop. See you later D.” Silver starts to leave but D grabs her servo. She turns to look at him. Silver Aid: “D?” D-16 blinks before letting go of her servo. D-16: “I, umm… you want to sit with us tomorrow?” Silver blinks before smiling sadly. Silver Aid: “I’d love to… but I have a shift to work tomorrow… I’m sorry.” D-16 felt a pang seeing her sad. D-16: “Hey, we can tell you what happened in the race. Maybe even get some memorabilia or decal from the shop!” Silver smiles at him. Silver Aid: “Thanks D… see you tomorrow then.” She leaves after that. D-16 sighs and has a warm smile on his face. Orion: “So!” D-16 jumps at Orion’s sudden entrance. Orion: “When can I expect you to make a Conjunx of my Amica-AAA! STOP TRYING TO HIT ME!”

Silver Aid gets called down to deal with something in the level were Elita worked.

It turned out to be an easy fix, she spotted Elita loading a crate and decided to go over, at least have a small chat.

Elita was about to start talking when Silver noticed the top of the train was open.

Elita told her to get behind her, someone was on the train.

If they worked together to get the perp, she could get promoted and maybe Silver could get some newer equipment.

Silver is just confused why Orion, a yellow bot and D are inside.

Elita roughly grabs her servo and tells her to run.

Not one to question her twin, she runs by her side.

Silver Aid and Elita are running and leaping over crates in front of the three mechs. B-127: “Who are these bots?!” Orion: “Just my Amica and her twin.” Elita and Silver copy similar flips and jumps. D-16: “You know I can finally see the resemblance now.” Meanwhile with Elita and Silver Aid. Silver Aid: “Elita maybe we should listen to them—” Elita gives her a glare. Silver: “Okay, just going to keep on running…”

Then they all got to the surface.

Everyone is staring at the beautiful horizon.

D-16 inches closer to Silver, but Elita sees this and firmly pulls her into a side hug glaring at the silver mech.

The train gets launched in the air.

Orion and D-16 land on top of her back.

Orion went to go help Elita while D helped Silver and they both went to help B-127.

Reveal of the Quintessons.

Silver instinctively grabbed onto D and Elita’s servos trying to guide them to safety.

Clenches on D’s servo when Orion and B nearly get caught

Elita’s servo let go, but not D’s.

Not that either wanted to let go.

It wasn’t until B-127 made the comment that they both let go, both looking a bit flustered.

Orion is happy.

B has found a new ship.

Elita is seething.

Seeing what happened to the Prime’s.

It hurts seeing their frames like this, guessing how they were terminated by some of the old wounds and tears in the frames.

Steals up for a bit comforting D seeing his idol beheaded.

Meeting Alpha Trion.

Seeing what happened to the Prime’s and confirming her previous thoughts.

Seeing what Sentinel was doing.

Is by Alpha Trion’s side trying to get rid of his of the organic material in his joints when D and her Amica start the fight about what to do with Sentinel.

Freezing hearing that Sentinel had taken their cogs.

How could someone be so cruel?

Getting cog’s.

Silver Aid gets Onyx Prime’s cog.

A bit weirded out by the new parts in her armor.

Unlike the others on the run, she refuses to transform.

She didn’t need to transform to get to point A to point B before, plus there was no telling what she turned into after noticing the lack of wheels, treads, rotors or wings.

Thankfully Silver Aid did not transform since she had to help her friends and family down the hill safely before they could properly transform.

Silver Aid grabs Orion’s servo. Orion: “WHO’S TOUCHING ME!” Silver Aid: “I AM PAX! YOUR HELMS TUCK INTO YOUR BODY!” Orion: “I KNOW!” Silver Aid watches B-127 fly above them screaming. B-127: “WHEELS! I NEED WHEELS!” Silver Aid: “PAX IF WE SURVIVE THIS, I’M GOING TO SMACK YOU IN THE FACE!” Orion: “NOT YOU TOO!”

D hits the drone that would have shot Silver and Orion.

Feels a bit uneasy seeing him happy with the kill.

Tells Orion that she would talk to D after the awkward tension later.

Getting kidnapped by the High Guard.

Knows most of the High Guard thanks to Orion constantly talking about them.

Is horrified when D starts fighting Starscream.

Clutching Orion’s servo seeing the look in D-16’s optics.

Arachnid and her army arrived.

Silver Aid still refuses to transform and grabs a blaster trying to protect the injured guards.

Gets captured with B and D.

Is scared for D-16 standing up to Sentinel.

Silver Aid’s energon runs cold seeing Sentinel brandishing out a torch. She tries to stand up but Arachnid steps on her back struts. Silver Aid: “Get away from him!” D-16 glances over worried. Sentinel smirks and ignores her. Silver continues to struggle as D-16 starts screaming from the torch. Finally with a move that would make her sister proud, Silver Aid manages to kick Arachnid in the face and head buts Sentinel in his chin, making him stagger a couple feet away. She stands, still bounded, protectively in front of D-16. Fury dancing in her optics. Sentinel walks forward trying to intimidate her with his size. She does not back down. Sentinel: “You done medic? If you move, I might even spare you a painful termination.” Silver spits in his face. Silver Aid: “I will protect D-16 as long as I function.”

One swing and it would be done.

Silver braces herself for the slice when the train hits the building.

Gets thrown back trying to cover D-16’s frame with her’s.                                                                                              

Grogging wakes up to Orion and D helping her from her restrains.

Elita hugs her tightly before letting go to help Orion.

Silver Aid refuses to leave D-16 alone with Sentinel.

D-16 sees Silver Aid by his side. D-16: “Silver go! I’ll deal with Sentinel!” Silver gives him a look before charging up a blaster. Silver Aid: “You must have had a few blow to the helm to think I’m leaving you here.” D-16: “Just go with your Amica—” Silver Aid grabs the front of his chassis and glares at him. Silver Aid: “What part of I’m not leaving you, don’t you understand.” She lets him go and mimics one of Orion’s smirks. Silver Aid: “Ready to beat this false Prime?” D-16 smirks back. D-16: “You have no idea.”

Both manage to push him off the balcony.

Silver Aid skidded a bit farther on the stage.

Wakes up from the pounding to hear Orion and D fighting over whether to kill Sentinel or not.

Orion lands on her as D pushes him back.

The next few seconds are a blur.

Screaming in pain as Orion gets shot.

She could barely move from the sudden pain in her chassis, in her spark.

Just barely looking at D on the edge holding him.

Her energon running cold seeing Orion fall into the pit.

Screaming as she felt Orion’s spark go out.

More of the guards started surrounding her, bad news, considering her frame was still in shock and could barely move.

Out of pure fear and shock, Silver Aid transformed.

She doesn’t know what she transformed into, but it was big, had many arms and she could suddenly see much more.

It was much easier to deal with the guards around her, seeing D dealing with his own.

Then she hears the screams of terror.

More blaster fire comes her way.

It stings.

Silver Aid hears the frightened voices in the crowd.

Hideous.

Freak.

Monster.

Murderer.

She hears D-16 name himself Megatron after splitting Sentinel in half.

Too busy with the blasters and influx of bots trying to stab her to realize that Elita and B had gone to stop him.

A sudden blast knocks her into the crowd.

She gets to the ground and transforms back on impact.

Just in time to see Optimus Prime start fighting Megatron.

The pain in her chassis suddenly vanished.

Almost as if Orion… but he wasn’t Orion… right?

Frozen in place hearing him banish Megatron and the High Guard from Iacon.

Once most of them start leaving, the crowd around her starts turning.

Bot 1: “It’s the freak!” Silver Aid: “I’m not—” A bot pokes her while another yanks her armor. Bot 2: “A monster!” Bot 3: “Get back!” Bot 4: “Maybe the new Prime can finish it off.” Silver tries to make herself smaller to avoid the harsh touches. She makes brief contact with Optimus, Elita and B-127 on the platform. They all have a look of shock. The same shock as the bots around her. The ones trying to close in around her. Silver Aid: “I’m not here to hurt anyone!” Bot 5: “Liar!” Bot 6: “Tear her apart!”

This was enough for the sudden transformation to take place.

Silver ignores the screams and yelling; her main priority is to get out of there.

On the plus side of this new form, Silver was able to crawl into tight places and hide.

The bot managed to avoid all guards and bots until night fall.

Silver was shaken to the core from what had happened in the last 24 hours.

How could everything change so much so fast?

She wanted nothing more than to craw into Elita’s arms and have her tell her that things were going to be okay and that she would beat up who ever made her cry.

But she couldn’t go back.

She saw their faces, there was nothing to go back to now.

And it wasn’t like she would go to D—Megatron.

She’d probably get shot on sight as well.

With a heavy spark, Silver Aid silently boarded on the train that led up to the surface.

She jumped off the train and started to look for a new home, hoping not to run into any of the High Guard.

Primus decided to show some pity to her, as she found an old, abandoned ship safely hidden in the rock formations.

Silver Aid makes her way into one of the old rooms. The weight of the day finally crushed her as she crumbled to the ground and silently sobbed. She pulled her knees in tightly. Slowly she pulled out a picture she had taken earlier that day of the five of them on the way to Alpha Trion. Silver Aid gave a watery smile: “Night ‘Lita, Night B, Night Orion, Night D… I’ll see you… someday… night…” The empty ship echoed with the soft sobs of the bot inside.

[minty-thereader]

GOJO x READER

“She’d Rather Die.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Soooo wanna go on a date?” The young 19 year old Gojo Satoru asked sitting opposite you, facing the wrong side of the chair with his chin rested on his hands. You never once looked up from your book, your eye twitched with annoyance, continuing to ignore the popular white haired player.

Gojo looked from your book and back to your face. “How To Get Away With Murder..nice book. I read it like, five times. Who’s your favorite character?” “The murderer.” You grumbled, slamming your book shut as the instructor for the day walked in to give out your assignments.

“Look alive sorcerers! We’ve got plenty of reports today for minor spirits so you’ll be split into threes! And I don’t care if you don’t like your partner, the higher ups arranged your teammates, not me.” The bald teacher said handing out everyone’s slip of paper. You didn’t want to read yours knowing you’d already been paired with Gojo and his best friend Geto Suguru. “Would you look at that doll! You and I are paired up yet again!” Gojo tells you with the biggest smile, the brightest any has ever made him smile!

You wished that this day would just hurry up and end. “Oh yay,” sarcasm laced your tone and you grabbed your belongings, leaving before the two besties could meet up and discuss plans. You did not like Gojo, and if I said it before or not I’m repeating it! Did. Not.

Your dislike stemmed from your first meeting. You were new to the school and you just so happened to bump into the white haired man, when you wanted instructions on where to get to your first class! Gojo, full of energy grabbed your book and signed it with a smirk saying, ‘here baby! An autograph for you too!’ And that’s when you started to resent him. You really didn’t like arrogant men and he was sooo full of it.

Gojo liked that you didn’t want him too, which made him want you more! That’s why he would ask you to go out with him every time you guys got the chance to interact.

Some time passed and the three of you were outside of school on your way to complete your mission. A house was supposedly haunted and there was a child that behaved out of order when these haunting occurred; your jobs were to get rid of that spirit. Geto and Gojo giggled like two school girls as they talked about the most random of stuff behind you, causing your irritation to grow.

Not only was he arrogant but he was also really strong, so him being strong made being stuck with him on a mission feel like it was just child’s play to him. “Can you two take one mission seriously for once?” You asked them without turning back. Geto smirked at Gojo and gave him a shove, encouraging him to talk to you since you opened the gates for interaction. “Uhh-huh! I could definitely take the mission more seriously if you’d let me take you out.”

You scrunch your nose to show clear signs of disgust. “I would rather a giant monster with eight legs bite my head off, than go out with you.” Gojo gasped dramatically. Hey! In his defense this was the first time you’ve ever payed him any real attention!

“Whether you’re being sarcastic or not I would personally never let a thing happen to you y/n.” Gojo says with a kind smile, he tilts his glasses down to show off his striking blue eyes. You looked away quickly just as he did so. That was his signature flirty move, showing off his freaky eyes. So many women were caught with them, and you promised yourself not to be one of them.

“Let’s see if you’ll stick by your word.” You told him with a plain look on your face. While you walked up and away Geto nudged the man. “She likes you, she just doesn’t know it yet,” he encourages. “You think so? I do like it when they play hard to get~.” He sang out loud so you could hear. When you three finally neared the house, there was a strange smell that came out of it.

Everyone held their nose and you took a few steps back from the door, turning to talk to the men. “This place has a very strong evil scent.” The men nodded, agreeing. “Right, let’s get this over with—” Gojo and Geto watched with shocked eyes when a giant gray hand stuck out of the door and grabbed a hold of you, before pulling you in with the same speed. The once broken door repaired because of the curse. The men looked at each other, finding their voice before running after you and yelling your name.

Stuck in the hands of the enemy you freaked out. You had no idea what to do against this curse and you weren’t sure if it was a level 2 curse or a level 3. Scared you started to panic; what if this thing decided that he’d just eat you? You whimper feeling the creature breath against your head. With newfound strength you focused on your cursed energy to flow throughout your body, remembering that you could do that, and your body slowly became a liquid like puddle. The level 2/3 curse stared with awe watching you just lay there as a puddle, your clothes just floating around like that before you went skidding across the wooden floor to escape it!

On the other side of the room you were in, was where the men resided. Gojo placed his ear to the wall listening for anything strange or unusual, looking out for you. The slush like noise of water moving made him step back and summon cursed energy to his finger tips, ready to blast whatever it may be. Your body came seeping through the cracks, and then WAM! Straight into the arms of the player!

Everyone in the room made a small yelping sound except you, who wasn’t aware of what was happening. You look up into Gojo’s eyes, surprised but then relaxed. “It took you fools long enough!” Gojo’s stiff body confused you. “Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, watching his face turn pink and sweat roll down his face. “Your clothes,” he said, his voice had a little quiver to it, “you’re naked.” You were now reacting just like him. Geto coughed hard, his back turned to the entire situation. Quickly Gojo took his shirt off and gave it to you. “Here!” He says, “I don’t wanna look. I can’t disgrace you like that. Please put my shirt on quickly.”

You grabbed it and did as told, staring off at the wooden floor with multiple thoughts flooding your head. You snap out of it for a second to look back at the men quickly, “Oh! Before anything else the curse is in the next room and I think it’s a level 2!” Geto shrugs, “not a big deal, right Gojo?” Gojo winds his arms, “nope, not a big deal at all!” They both walk over to the wall and Gojo placed his hand on it watching the wall crumble to reveal the curse. You watched in awe as they both attacked the curse at the same time, a bright smile on Gojo’s face while his bestie looked bored. You couldn’t compare to these two! It was embarrassing!

Gojo grabbed the monster by its neck and made it bow to you. “Apologize to the little lady.” The monster growled. Blood trickled down its head and its eyes were missing. “Blah blah! I don’t care if you can’t talk! You can understand me just enough and you know exactly the situation you’re in.” Gojo taunted. “Gojo, it’s alright. It’s just a stupid curse, just kill it.” Gojo shook his head a no at your reaction and his smile got brighter. “I wanna hear it beg a little first. Go on buddy! Beg! Say you’re sorry!” The monster again growled, and when it started shrieking you just outstretched your hand and closed it, using cursed energy to squeeze its body with an invisible force and its body went everywhere.

You and Gojo stared at each other, eyes boring into each other before Geto broke it up by walking out the house. “Gonna thank me for saving you?” Gojo asked with a smile, clearly teasing. “Nope. I’d rather die.” “You almost did.” Gojo pointed back at the house while Geto talked to the owners of it. The curse was dead and the family was no longer gonna be haunted, meaning mission complete! Gojo wrapped his arms around you holding you closer so his shirt was more secure on you. “…thank you.” You muttered when you two made it to a little hospital van that pulled up. Gojo gave you a pat on the head and nodded, “you’re welcome doll! And hey, keep the shirt.”

You smiled at him when he said that but deep down you were annoyed yet again, because you knew he would not let this rescue go.

[cherryblossombankai]

Word Count: 1.1k Warnings: angst, seriously it's just angst, alcohol, mentions of anxiety and trauma, sort of implied toxic relationship, breakup, sad, depression, jealousy A/N: I'm so sorry for this :) Tag List: @pixelcafe-network, @actuallysaiyan, @helloiamadrawer, @satorustar, @sweet-chocolate-sweet

You knew deep down that breaking up had been for the best, or at least you’d believed Aizawa when he said it was for the best. Aizawa was still trying to overcome his trauma, and you're no walk in the park to live with either. Stubborn and moody on the best of days, paralyzed with anxiety on the worst of days. You knew it took him some patience at times to navigate life with you, but he wasn’t a walk in the park either. You thought you were each other’s person until he asked for space. You gave it in hopes he would eventually realize that he needs you.

It had helped you along the healing process when you believed he was as miserable as you. You took comfort in the image of him curled up in bed, mourning the scent of your perfume fading from the pillow. At the very least, it made you feel less pathetic for still sleeping in his shirt every night and refusing to wash it because he'd no longer be lingering in the stitches. 

You were fine, truly. Most days you only cried a couple of times, and you hardly ever typed up a text you'd never send anymore. At least not when you're sober. The things you’d never sent while knee-deep in a bottle of wine, well that’s a different story. It ranged from “I miss you so bad” to “Why don’t you love me anymore?” but you never sent them, and that’s what matters. 

 "I'm on the path to healing. thank you very much,” you'd bragged to your friends over dinner. You meant it! Things were really starting to fall into place. 

Until it wasn’t anymore. 

All it took was one event to have your healing facade crashing down faster than you built it up. He didn't even like selfies, that's what he told you over and over. He would scoff and cover his face every time you tried to lean in to catch a snap of the two OF you together. More than once he went on a half-hearted rant about ‘living in the moment’ instead of stopping to photograph everything. You only have a handful of photos to prove that you didn't hallucinate a five-year relationship. 

Yet there he is on your timeline, snuggled up to a pretty girl who called him ‘baby' in the caption. His arm is wrapped around her. He's leaning in...He's smiling. 

Fuck, you love his smile. It was such a rare sight when he belonged to you. You wonder what this girl has that you didn’t.

Later that night, you and your roommate split a bottle of wine. 

"I hope he thinks of me when he fucks her," you ranted to your roommate. 

You were pacing the living room like a caged tiger. A caged, drunk tiger anyway. You were angry. How could he? What right does he have to be happy when you still whisper his name when you make yourself cum?

"I'm going to call him!" 

Your roommate thankfully finds your phone before you do. She swipes it OFF the coffee table while you're digging around in your pockets.

"Nope, that is a horrible idea," she says.

"Why? Don't I deserve answers? Closure?" you sit beside her on the couch. Your puppy eyes were almost enough for her to change her mind, but she didn't. 

"Of course you do, but not like this."

After your ranting and raving becomes sleepy, your roommate — No...your hero — tucks you into bed. She covers you up with a soft blanket and pushes your hair off your face. 

"Do you think he misses me?" you whine. "I want him to miss me.”  

"He'd be stupid not to miss you,” she says, too kind to break your delusions for now, “Get some sleep."

~

It felt like your heart was ripped out. Seeing a stupid selfie was one thing. Being face-to-face with the happy couple in the produce section of your favorite grocery store is another rotten thing entirely. Aizawa doesn't even live in this neighborhood. You can’t fathom why he’d decide to date someone from the same neighborhood as you. 

You're frozen to the spot. Your nails dug into the fragile flesh of the peach you were testing for ripeness moments before your worst nightmare came true. Aizawa doesn't notice you but, to your surprise, she does. Her smile falters and she quickly looks away as if making eye contact with you was painful for her. It was odd to see. You want to look away too, but seeing them is like watching a car crash. No matter how badly you want to look away, you just can’t.

"Oh, hello," Aizawa says when you finally shift into his line of sight.

"Hi," you fake a smile. You were hoping maybe you’d be able to seem genuinely unphased. 

It’s hard to be unphased when he doesn't have to fake a smile. His smile is real and you know she’s the reason for it. 

You clear your throat, "How are you?" 

"I'm good. Uh, this is my girlfriend, Ami."

"Nice to meet you." you lie for the sake of friendliness but refuse to shake hands. 

"I've heard so much about you." Ami says. "About your hero work, of course!"

“Right, of course. Thanks."

“We should get going, babe," he says and places his hand on her back. 

Babe? When did he become a guy who said something like 'babe'. It makes your stomach turn as you walk away. You used to make fun of people who said ‘babe’ together. 

"Why was I not enough for you?" you text him that night. Your eyes are so blurry with tears that you don't even think you could read his response. Not that he will ever respond, you figure. 

You roll onto you side, letting the tears flow from your eyes into the pillow. You clutch on tightly to the fluffy teddy bear he’d bought you for the last birthday you’d spent together.

"Don't do this," he texts back

.You drop your phone onto the bed, and you bury your face against your teddy bear. The muffled scream you let out is full of pain. You still love him. You know you shouldn't, but you want him back. You can taste him on your lips still. 

“Why? Because it's not on your time? Because you're not in control?" you text back.

"No! Because you're being emotional again.” 

“Again? God forbid I have feelings.” 

Aizawa was always so controlled. It was infuriating to know that no matter what you say you will never get under his skin the way you want to. He doesn’t respond for the longest time, and you decide to try once again to get to him. 

“Of course I'm emotional. I fucking love you."

When he doesn't respond, you get the message. There's nothing else to say. He's over you, or he wants to be. All you can do is pick up the pieces.

[niaojirou]

royed fic recs please

I'm so HAPPY to provide!!! I have my own masterlist for royed fics but it's still under construction, so I will give you three of my favorites! I tend to read long fics so buckle up!

1. Veritas [Mature, Romance/comedy]

↳ Roy Mustang; a presidential candidate of the US. Treading through ice bridges to get to his destination. Every move is calculated precisely down to the bone, but Roy really just had to fuck Senator Hohenheim oldest son.

Personal review: Great, GREAT rom/com, funniest fic I’ve read in this fandom. I've busted out my lungs every single time I'm reading this fic. Absolutely phenomenal.

// Veritas - dawnstruck - Fullmetal Alchemist

2. Tears And Rain [Explicit, threats/attempt of rape/non-con, political drama, happy ending]

↳ Quick summary: Someone have been killing high-ranking officers in Amestrian military, and that also included an assassination attempt on Roy Mustang. The only reason Roy survived was because another target in the list saved him, and that was Edward Elric, but he was no General, and yet he was also in the same immediate danger. Nationwide conspiracy pushed both of them into extremities for survival, while others on their side were forced to aid in the dark.

Personal review: No review can do justice on how amazing this fic is, my #1 favorite fma fanfiction. I won’t shut up about this masterpiece. This fic is my good to go fic to download if I’m in any of my 22 hours flight. I have nothing to say anymore/spoil as this fic has to be enjoyed and savored first hand. It’s the rite of passage for Roy/Ed fans. Impeccable work.

//Tears and Rain - BeautifulFiction - Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)

3. i don't want to fall in love (this world is only gonna break your heart) [Mature, Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort]

↳ Roy and Edward got married, they got two kids, but they really have to separate for their own good because this is not working out. They mutually split and agreed to see each other a few times in a week for the sake of the kids. But deep in their heart they know they still care very much for the other. Family drama, romance and a good amount of angst sprinkled on top.

Personal review: Picture yourself snuggled in with a warm mug of hot chocolate, outside is very cold from the falling snow, you turned on the TV and a family christmas movie comes up. That is how reading this fic feels.

//i don't want to fall in love (this world is only gonna break your heart) - cathydeff - Fullmetal Alchemist

(Small edit: Please read this fic while or after you listened to Peabo Bryson's If Ever You're In My Arms Again because it amped up all the feelings and believe it or not I was bawling so hard lmaoooo)