#are you seeing those motherfucking sunglasses

[gildedxpleasure]

i needed to find out how long to soak something, wound up on youtube & now i got it BAD for this lady

yes salad-ppang is here but you know what she's really serving

found out her name is Maangchi (Hammer) bc it was her old MMORPG username and she couldn't be arsed to think of a new one and my heart was lost forever

[notrobinsomethingworse]

Okay hear me out. Batfamily, ugly Christmas sweater addition.

Bruce Wayne:

No doubt in my mind his children forced him into it. As soon as Dick mentioned wearing ugly sweaters on Christmas Day he found this monstrosity sitting in his closet. He chucked it out. He forgot about it. The next week it was back. He threw it out again. Two days passed. It was back. He tried shredding it, burning it, burying it in the backyard. It reappeared each time. Needless to say, it was still there on Christmas and he reluctantly wore it to the delight of everybody.

Jason Todd:

He wanted absolutely nothing to do with what Dick had planned… at first. Then he realised it was a great opportunity to piss Bruce off. Funny enough, it didn’t work as he hoped as Bruce was just happy he was there.

Tim Drake:

Wanted nothing to do with it and still wants nothing to do with it. Chose the first thing on the rack. Would’ve given Young Justice the chance to chose he sweater but he doesn’t trust them to NOT get him something horrendous.

Dick Grayson:

Planned this whole thing just to wear this monstrosity he found while doom scrolling on Instagram reels (he has adhd and is a millennial, he sure as hell isn’t on TikTok BUT dopamine go brrr). His siblings hate him. He loves it.

Damian Wayne:

This boy FOUGHT like one of those cats being forced into a costume. He clawed and begged and weaponised crying. Dick cackled at him until he had it on. He stayed on Dicks shoulders for the rest of the night. They did not talk for a month after.

He will stab anyone who brings it up.

Stephanie Brown:

Okay picture this in hot pink. She immediately locks onto some sort of meme when Dick mentions ugly sweaters. She finds this ugly ass sweater and steals Bruce’s credit card to get it.

Cassandra Cain:

Stephanie immediately calls Cass with plans. She happily agrees. She helps Steph steal Bruce’s credit card and proudly pulls Steph around to show the whole family their matching sweaters. A photo of them recreating the meme with their matching sweaters spreads around the web for at least a week.

Barbra Gordon:

Along with this sweater, Barbs places a USB stick containing a compilation of epic patrol failures in each of the Bat’s Christmas stockings. She wants to keep them on their toes (and adequately afraid of her). It is effective.

Duke Thomas:

Same vain as Steph. Instantly clocked in on memes and found this bad boy. Shows up with yellow temporary dye on his hair and old-lady sunglasses from the dollar store. Whenever he faces the slightest inconvenience he asks to speak to the manager. It becomes a bit where the manager changes each time and becomes crazier than the last.

Alfred Pennyworth:

Motherfucker would not wear a ugly sweater no matter how much the children begged. And the children did beg (Damian had to pull out the puppy dog eyes for this one). Jason was actually the fucker who made him cave pulling out all the stops, “it’s my first Christmas with everyone since I… you know.”, “it would be nice to have something special to remember it you know?”, “I remember my first Christmas in the manor. I just want to feel that happy again.”

Jason comes prepared with the sweater and Alfred knows he’s lost (but he doesn’t really seem to mind when he sees all the smiling faces on Christmas Day).

[3nni3]

Shadows In The Street Lights <3

A/N: Finally it's here. I don't know if this should be a series or not, but in the meanwhile I think about it, I hope you enjoy this little creation of mine, which was inspired by my childhood favourite movie, Starstruck. I hope some of you have pleasant memories of the movie as well, and now, welcome to live your own Starstruck movie in a form of this text. Also for the plot, if your native language is Dutch or English - now it's not. :)

CW: smoking, cursing, idk the basic stuff.

F!reader

This doesn't have any smut, fyi horny motherfuckers ;)

Word count: 3k ish

Have a nice day.

-E

(Gaat het? = You okay?)

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

It was over. Something you had planned and waited for months was now over. But you couldn't be happier. You finally got to experience the one and only, Joost Klein live show. And it was so much better than anticipated. You walk out of the venue with your friends, the cold autumn breeze of Amsterdam hitting you, but you don't mind. After being inside a venue that you swear was at least hundred degrees Celsius, this felt nice for a while.

You hug your friends at the bus stop in front of the venue, saying goodbye as their bus arrives. The promise of never complaining about anything else again when you get back to your car crosses your mind as you curse your choice of clothing, thinking of the hoodie you decided to leave in the backseat. The night really was getting a bit cold, and even though everything was perfect, the cold air of Amsterdam and lack of cigarettes in your possession kinda made you irritated. You look at the ground, shoving your hands deep in the pockets of your thin jacket, as you walk to the direction where you left your car, turning the corner without watching where you're going. Mistake number.. whatever it is. 

A door was opened right in front of you, and nearly hit your head, but your shoe stops it, and you nearly lose your balance.

"Oh, sorry! Gaat het?" You hear a male voice speak as you regain your balance. "I'm fine." You chuckle, as you look up at the man in front of you, shocked. Holy fuck. "Joost? Oh shit, sorry, I mean, like, that was my fault, I wasn't looking where I was going." You ramble without thinking. Taking in the features of his figure, a tall Dutch man in front of you, your heart skips a couple of beats. Black jeans that has some kind of wavy seams as a decoration, Ed Hardy hoodie with the hood pulled up, and some shades covering his eyes. However with a simple outfit like that, he manages to look better than ever, making it impossible to look away. The man looks to the side as he notices you eyeing him. "It's alright," Joost laughs lightly, "as long as you're not hurt, we're good." You smile at his reassuring words, still a bit dumbfounded.

"You were at the show?" He continues, noticing your eyes on him, recognising who he is. With a slight chuckle leaving his lips, he takes his sunglasses off, putting them in the hoodie pocket. 'God it should be illegal to see those hazy, blue eyes without glasses framing them,' your thoughts racing as well as your heart. "Yeah, I was." you smile back at him, trying to regain your composure, mesmerized by the blonde in front of you. "How did you like it?" He decides to small talk a little bit. 'Why not,' he thought, since there was no other fans around, a little small talk never hurt nobody. "It was so good, you're so good!" You babble, immediately regretting it. He laughs, a warm comforting smile forming on his lips, making your worry about your overly enthusiastic babble fade away. "I'm glad. Are you here alone?" He asks, looking around you guys, not noticing anyone with you. "Yeah, or like… I was there with friends, but they left like five minutes ago." You gesture to the side with your head. "Ah, alright, alright…" He says in an awkward voice, trying to continue the conversation somehow.

"You're not from here." He states, bringing up the fact that you're talking in English. You shake your head, telling him where you're from and he nods, urging you to continue. "I just moved here, still struggling to learn Dutch." A laugh leaves your lips with that sentence. "That's fine, I know it's not easy." Joost answers with an understanding smile, "Duolingo lessons done?" His comment making you grin. "Yeah, definitely."

A silence following it, not quite knowing how to continue, not wanting to ask for a photo or ruin the nice interaction with your favourite artist, and the tiny voice in your head is screaming at you for not knowing what to say next.

His facial features look beautiful under the dim street light, and those damn ocean eyes staring back at you make you think you would die if you kept looking at them any longer. Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you began speaking, wanting to escape the awkward silence before it's too late, "Listen, it was so nice meeting you. I- eh, I need to-" He cuts you off, "You here by car?"

You nod, confused, his eyes still staring into yours. "Yeah it's parked behind the corner at the parking lot." You point at your right. His eyes following your gestures, looking at the direction you're pointing at. "Mine's there too, come, I'll walk you to your car." He says, quite enjoying this normal interaction with someone, and not wanting it to end just yet. You shake your head, "No you don't need to, I'll be okay-"

"It's not that safe in this area during these hours," he explains, worried about your safety, "there's been a lot of weird shit happening here lately…" You listen to him talk, as he gestures for you to walk with him. Before you even acknowledge it, your legs start moving on their own, agreeing to his request by following him. The silence settles down on you two as you wonder how the hell you ended up in a situation like this, and how on earth could you ever explain this to your friends later.

You agree silently by following him, as he gestures you to walk with him. A silence falls on you two, but this time it doesn't feel as awkward.

He pulls out his cigarette pack from his pocket, taking one and offering the pack to you. You gladly accept, taking one. He reaches out to light your cigarette that's hanging between your lips, before lighting his own. "Oh my, you're a saint. Thanks, this was very much needed." You laugh as the smoke fills your lungs, your thoughts sidetracking somewhere, possibly containing something about the man next to you. "What made you move here?" He suddenly asks, bringing you back to the present from your thoughts. "Oh, uh, I guess I just needed some change, you know? My job has multiple locations around Europe, internal transfer making it easy to relocate basically anywhere." You explain and he nods, blowing out smoke as he starts speaking again, "What do you do for work?" "Short answer is media," You say, deciding to go a little bit indepth with your answer, "and the long one is graphic design and editing for bigger corporations and managing their public image on social media."

Joost looks at you, raising his eyebrows as you two turn the corner. "Oh. That sounds so interesting. If I hadn't gotten into this music thing, I would've probably gotten into graphic designing as well. I like drawing on my iPad and doodling."

"I've seen your doodlings online, they're good." You admit, taking the final drag of your cigarette, before dropping it on the ground and stepping on it, while trying to still keep up with Joost's pace. He slows down for a few steps, seeing you got left behind, looking at you. "Thank you. That means so much. I want my art to be seen, either music or some doodles. I want my art to inspire people, help them or just for them to enjoy it in general. I guess it's somewhat a dream of mine..." He rambles. But you don't mind. You like listening to him. He drops his cigarette and steps on it putting it out, and is about to say something, when your phone rings. "Sorry." You mumble to him as you take the call, "It's my friend." He listens carefully to the foreign language you speak. While he doesn't understand a single word, he still manages to pick up two words - "Joost Klein". 

You say goodbye to your friend, putting your phone back in your pocket. "She called to make sure I'm alive and on my way home," you explain as you feel Joost's questioning look at you, "and I told her I'll be okay, that you're walking me to my car." His smile visible on his face, feeling good that he's able to provide the feeling of security to you, so you wouldn't need to walk alone in a sketchy neighborhood.

You reach the parking lot, the only two cars remaining are yours and Joost's, funnily enough, parked only one car length away from one another. "That one yours?" He points out at your car, somewhat amused, "Because if it is, mine's right next to it." You chuckle, "Yeah, that's mine. But don't judge, she's old, I know." You continue talking about your little Volkswagen Polo that has seen it's better days... almost two decades ago. "Hey, not judging," he throws his hands up, "as long as it gets you home tonight, it's good." His warm smile making your heart skip a beat. He leans against his car's passenger side door. "Well, I think I really need to thank you," you start as you open the car door, sitting down while putting the keys in the ignition, "for making sure I'd get safely here." You continue as you turn the key - but nothing happens. "No worries, honestly. It was my pl-" Joost starts but quickly stops seeing your frustrated expression. You try again but all you get is flashing lights on the dashboard. "Everything okay?" He asks, worried, pushing himself away from his car, taking a couple of steps to your way. You groan in response. "Well she's not getting me home tonight, I guess." Your laugh comes out unamused, as your head falls back against the headrest. He leans his elbow against your open driver's side door, cringing, "I'm sorry, I think I kinda jinxed it..." 

You shake your head, sighing, "No, not your jinxing. Just a horrible battery, which was supposed to be replaced way too long ago. A fucking ticking time bomb the whole car..." You laugh, not knowing what else to do, "I think I need to call and wake up my roommate." He shakes his head, "How far away do you live?", the blonde man asks, furrowing his brows. You groan and step out of the car, leaning against it, "Like half an hour away." The cold night air makes you shiver, so you decide to grab your hoodie from the back seat and throw it on. Crossing your arms, feeling the comfortable warmth your hoodie is providing, and you sigh. Joost puts out a cigarette you didn't even notice him smoking before this. 'What a chain smoker he is...' you think and mentally chuckle at that. He keeps fidgeting with his car keys and looks away for just a second before returning his gaze to you. "I'll drive you." The words come out of his mouth suddenly, surprising even himself with that, but for some reason, he really enjoys your company. The first normal interaction he's had in a while and to be honest, who wouldn't enjoy being accompanied by a pretty girl who's polite. You're not taking photos of him, asking about music, demanding something - quite the opposite, as you once again decline his offer, shaking your head. "I can't accept that, I'll call my roommate, she'll come pick me up." He huffs, "Seriously now, I really don't mind. I feel guilty for jinxing that-" "Joost." You stop him, letting out a little laugh, "It's fine." He rolls his eyes jokingly as you pull your phone out of your pocket, ready to dial your roommate. "Absolutely not." He chuckles as he pushes your phone down. "You're home much faster if you let me drive you. It's getting late, c'mon now." He says, giving you a sympathetic look.

God what a dream come true, Joost Klein _begging_ for you to be his passenger princess. But something in you just won't let him do that. Drive an hour extra so YOU will get home. It doesn't feel like a right thing to do. And you're pretty sure he's just suggesting it to not sound selfish. "Joost I absolutely can't-" "Get in." he cuts you off smiling, opening the passenger door to his car. You sigh, pushing yourself away from your car, grabbing your bag from the driver's seat, slamming the god damn stupid door shut and locking the car. "There's no point arguing, I'm not leaving you out here. It's fucking scary - even for me." He says as you reluctantly sit down in his passenger seat. He gently closes the door for you and walks around the car, getting in the driver's seat, starting the car. "Thank you. Like for real." you mumble quietly as he puts the car in drive and steers the car to the exit of the parking lot and onto the main road. "I owe you one." You say as he laughs, handing you his phone. "You can pay back by being the DJ, so I can focus on the road."You take his phone from his hand, your fingers gracing his hand, sending shivers through you. 

You don't know what to play, since all you've lately been listening to is, well, Joost. You test the waters of his music taste as you press play, and the first chords of 5 Seconds of Summer's Youngblood starts playing. He starts humming along, and a surprised look lands on your face, but you don't say anything. It feels weird. Sitting in the passenger seat, while the driver is literally your favourite artist. A silence falls among you as the music keeps playing, neither one of you knowing what to say. You know too much about him considering the fact he knows literally nothing about you. Of course it's all just public information, in his songs, or on his social media. Online in general. You're not a stalker either way, but it doesn't feel like you should know that much about someone you just met. You seem to notice Joost humming or singing along with you to almost every song you play, and smile to yourself, knowing he vibes with the same music as you do.

"Take the next exit." You give directions to the man next to you. He nods and proceeds to take the next exit. The landscapes flash by as you drive in silence. But this time it's not an awkward silence, it's a comfortable one. The music is still playing in the background as his phone sits on your thigh and you once in a while keep adding more songs to the queue. At some point, you started playing some of your favourite songs in your native language, knowing he probably doesn't understand much of the lyrics, but he still keeps vibing, nodding his head along to the music.

"And turn right from there." The words come out nervously, as you slowly overcome the shock of the situation and realise that Joost Klein is actually driving you home.

"You know, you have a great taste in music." Joost's compliment catches you off guard, "Thank you?" You don't mean the answer to come out sounding like a question, but it does. "And I don't just mean my music, you know?" He states, chuckling a little, "It's refreshing to know someone else too has as huge of a range of favourite genres." You feel a smile tug on the side of your mouth. "Well, your music isn't bad either." The joking tone in your voice gets more visible as the fan-artist barrier breaks down a bit by bit. All the small talk is becoming more natural, which warms not just your heart, but Joost's as well.

As you continue giving him directions, the surroundings start looking more and more familiar, meaning you'll soon be approaching your neighbourhood. The nearest grocery store gets left behind as you pass by a pub of some kind you have yet to visit, and then comes the intersection where you guide him to take a left into a road that leads to your house. A tiny pang in your chest tells you that you won't want this night to be over.

"It's that one on the right." You point out and he pulls into the driveway in front of a gray coloured small apartment complex with bushes framing the walkway up to the door. Lights and decorations could be seen on almost every balcony out of the six that were in sight on the front side of the house. "What a pretty place, I like the lights." He admires the decorations. "Yeah, I quite like it here..." You hum agreeingly, but tired. A nice silence sets between you guys for a few seconds again, and Joost definitely doesn't want to be the one breaking it.

You hand his phone back to him, your hands touching again, but you brush off the butterflies in your stomach, and grab your bag from the floor between your feet. "Listen, so, I wanna thank you, this was really nice of you..." You smile at him, not really knowing how to continue. "You're welcome, I'm glad to get you home safe." He returns your smile with a nod. As you open the door to step out, you feel devastated that this interaction with him is over now. "How much do I owe you?" You ask as you get up and lean forward, leaning your arm against the door. He laughs and shakes his head, "I'm not a taxi, you don't owe me anything. Besides, I really liked this. You're a nice girl." His words make you blush and you look away. "Alright then. Thank you, for real, Joost. And you're pretty nice too." You smile at him and he nods, "Goodnight. Hope your car gets fixed soon." "So do I... Goodnight." You decide against prolonging the pointless chit chat, and close the passenger door as you walk towards the front door. Joost stayed in the driveway, watching you walk up to the door, put in the door code, and walk in. Only after that he allows himself not to feel worry about you getting home safe, as he sees your figure walk up the stairs through the windows at the staircase. He let's out a sigh, puts his car in reverse and starts moving. As he backs out of your driveway, he realises - he never asked your name.

[poge-life]

Please, Please, Please teaser

Sitting on the hood of his car, you waited for them to bring him out after paying his bail. 

With his credit card of course.

Rafe slowly walked over to you, his suit jacket thrown over his shoulder as his eyes raked over you; starting at your shoes.

“Those the ones I bought, baby?” He asked, stopping with just a few inches between the two of you. Pulling your sunglasses down the bridge of your nose, you glanced up at him through your freshly coated lashes, “Mhm. Today actually.”

Rafe just raised his eyebrow at you as you slid off the hood of the car, handing him the keys, “don’t embarrass me again, motherfucker.”

been sitting on this for a while and seeing Drew in the new promo got me to finish this and it'll be posted some time today!

[captain-mj]

09Soapghost heellll yeah. Captain MacTavish going uno reverse and going aha now you can’t get rid of me. Prepare to be made to heel

You got the psychic messages I was adding to the post

It started with the interrogation. That was it. With Ghost breaking that person down to nothing with Soap's help. If Soap gave a suggestion, which he did only when he wasn't sure he could stomach doing it himself so rarely, Ghost would do it.

Right now, he was running a flame over one of his knives, no doubt about to do something awful with it while Soap sat in front of the guy, waiting for the fear to build enough for him to back down.

And when Ghost put the burning red knife next to his eye, swaying it slightly like he might just drop it on him, he broke. He blabbered on and on and on about this and that and whatever. Soap took the important things down.

"Can I see my wife?"

Soap was just about to answer when Ghost did. He never spoke during things like this. Not wanting people to hear his voice. But Price had told him to kill the guy afterward and that was enough for him to not care. "Yeah. You can see her." He cocked his gun and put it between his eyes.

"My wife isn't dead." The man looked angry.

"Course she is. Suicide to be exact. Apparently a couple of our boys got a little rough. Made some comments. I wonder, did she kill herself to prevent being defiled or because she was afraid of being used against you? Which one? Did she love your country more than you? Just like you did her."

The man started to curse and sob and bitch in Russian.

Ghost let him for a moment, enjoying this Soap realized, before moving the sunglasses to the top of his head to uncover his eyes. "Look me in the eyes. I want to see you die."

The gunshot was loud and it echoed. And Ghost put the gun back in place.

"His wife is safe and sound in a house not too far from here. Why did you lie?"

"So when he gets to whatever afterlife there is, he searches for her for years, not know she just isn't there yet. I like the think the grim reaper is in on the joke and plays along."

"You're a sick fucking bastard." Soap said and meant it.

Ghost looked at him. And those eyes... stone cold dead. Nothing fucking there. On anyone else, they'd be gorgeous. Beautiful browns like several of the sweet little things Soap picked up at bars. But there was not a hint of emotion in those things at all. "You know I am."

That's when Soap realized that Ghost was a little feral. Demented even. Something was Fucking wrong with him.

It didn’t scare him as much as it should. His head gets a little fuzzy at the thought actually.

There were other moments. Times where Ghost would be a little more fucked up around him. Letting Soap catch him licking one of his knives or purposely dragging out someone's death for his own pleasure.

Somehow it was made worse by the moments of Ghost's humanity. HIs humming. His inane way of making tea and how he disliked coffee and his stupid jokes. It was at such odds with the way he looked at him, dangerous and mutant.

Until Soap found himself cornered by Ghost who was trying to tower over him despite their size difference being laughably small. Only an inch or so. And his shoulders weren't that bad, but they weren't much against his own. Riley just wasn't doing a good job of being intimidating, especially considering Soap had seen him do far better with enemies.

"MacTavish." He growled at him.

Soap looked at him. "Simon. Heel, boy."

Ghost stared at him blankly, only those dead black eyes looking at him.

"You're not getting rid of me, Simon. So go ahead and get used to it."

He scoffed like Johnny was the dumbest motherfucker ever. "You don't own me. Can't tell me what to do."

"Heel, Simon." Soap whispered at him, patting his side. "You're not going to get my attention like this."

Riley growled at him again.

"That's your problem. Can barely touch ya. You hide under that mask like a coward. So you skulk around and hope I'll kick you away."

Riley made a ragged noise and almost barked at him. "Fuck you."

"I'll kick you when I want." Soap hissed and shoved him to the side, noticing how he moved so easily.

That exchange was why he didn't feel as much as surprise as one would expect to find Ghost unmasked in his room late at night, knife in hand.

Soap looked at Riley, watching his breathing as ragged as it was. Looking at how he looked defenseless despite holding a knife. He flipped it in his fingers and held out the handle.

“Captain, I’d let you do anything to me.” His tone was steady, even maybe a tad breathless. There was no hesitation or pain in the admittance.

Soap frowned at him but his interest was undeniable piqued. “Anything I wanted?” He took the knife and dragged it along his jugular. Just letting him feel it.

It was the first break in the facade. A small painful sound. “Yes. Anything. I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“For giving you this burden.” Ghost choked out. “Anything you want.”

Soap shouldn’t push. He knew Ghost didn’t say things like this lightly. But he did anyway. “Even sex? I know how you are.”

Ghost shivered but it wasn’t from fear. His pupils were blown and he reacted like he had not considered this option. “I haven't had sex in years. But if it would please you. I’d let you fuck me however you want. Even if it’s the same way they did. Even if it's worse. As long as it's you."

“You’d let me kill you.” Soap waited for something. A survival instinct of some kind. But Ghost licked his pretty lips.

“Johnny, if you asked, I’d beg you to. If that’s what you wanted.”

“Beg.”

Ghost gently grabbed the wrist that was controlling the knife as it went further down but still didn’t cut. He just needed the stability. “Please. Whatever you want. You want me dead? Do it. I’ll write up a note saying i asked for it. You want me kill someone for you and I will. Bleed me dry, Johnny. I’ll enjoy it.”

Soap looked at where he was clearly hard in his pants. “Should I get you off first?”

“If you think I deserve it.” Ghost exposed his throat for him, swallowing.

The knife hit the floor and Soap kissed him properly. Really kissed him. He dragged him up and out of the chair. Ghost sobbed against his mouth but he ignored it, instead laying him out over his desk.

Soap wasn’t cruel. He could be stern and mean but cruelness was never his thing. And in this moment, he wished nothing more to be cruel. To be able to rend Ghost down in a way that he clearly needed.

Instead, he undid his belt. "Simon."

"Yes, sir?" Ghost looked at him, biting his lip delicately.

"I am going to fuck you. Gonna let you sit there and just feel it. Be real good to you. And when I'm done, you're going to warm my cock under my desk."

Ghost softened, eyelashes fluttering. If not for the scars, he'd be model material. But Soap preferred him with the scars. "Thank you."

He kept lotion at his desk, something that Gaz usually teased him over, but it was perfect for right now. Using a generous amount to make it easier for him. One finger in and he already felt tighter than anything else Soap had fucked in... ever. "You weren't kidding. Practically a virgin huh?"

Ghost tensed up and Soap could feel it around his finger. "Hey, it's okay. I like it. Feels like I'm getting to break you in."

A sweet moan. "Yes. You want me to tell you how big you feel? I know you're probably packing. I'll even exaggerate. Tell you how you're breaking me."

"Only if that's what it really feels like." Soap assured, realizing just how much of a freak Ghost was. And subsequently how much of a freak he was himself, because this was all getting him going. Still, he worked him open until he could easily take three fingers and the lotion was starting to overflow.

Soap knew what he had. He had been turned down by a partner or two because of the size. And the way Ghost arched to keep taking it. Thighs trembling. It gave him a sense of satisfaction.

"I don't need to make you crave me. You already do."

"Yes, sir." He sounded strained but he managed the words.

"How do you feel?"

Ghost put his forehead against the soft wood. "Like you're breaking me." He shook and sobbed, but Soap knew if he pulled that pretty head up and made him look at him, there wouldn't actually be any tears.

A slow gentle push and pull. Soap didn't mind, the tightness and the pressure doing everything he needed. Ghost never asked for more. Though if it was because he was pleased, it was too much or he'd only take what he was being given was a mystery.

He abused his prostate. Mentally tallied how many times he hit it dead on as Ghost's body betrayed him. Causing his hips to cant up for more or his body to thrash until he fell against the desk like his strings had been cut.

And then Soap felt the tell tale tightening around his cock. Rhythmic and still desperate. "You came?"

Ghost nodded against the desk but didn't show his face. The back of his neck was a bright red.

"So the dead can blush."

Soap sped up a little, focusing on his own pleasure, and Ghost would clench every time he went all the way in, and then he came too. Deep inside so Ghost would struggle to clean it out.

Ghost got up and got on his knees. Soap gave him his shirt back so he wouldn't be half dressed.

"My life is yours." Simon Riley mumbled to him and the look he gave him was the same dead eyed stare as always.

Soap smiled at him anyway. "Thank you. It's a gift I'll appreciate."

For a brief moment, there seemed to be something like contentment in Ghost's eyes before closing his eyes and starting his job of pleasing his Captain.

[cacti-are-like-flamingos]

Borderline

Gojo Satoru x Reader x Geto Suguru

The Cursed Trio | Moment's Silence

...

Stretching his arms up into the air, the young Gojo stepped into the recreational room of the dorms. Loudly yawning as he fixed the sunglasses back onto his nose, nose scrunched up at the sight of a pensive Suguru sitting by the dark-hued couches. His onyx eyes solely focused on the screen of his phone.

(Side Note: Suguru hates bright screens, just like you, so he kept his on both the lowest setting and in dark mode. On the contrary, Gojo was one of those few assholes who likes having his phone at the highest brightness possible. The one brighter than the common folk's future. If you're like this, kindly fuck off)

"Still?" At this, Suguru spared a brief glance before going back to his device. "Still."

Gojo clicked his tongue in pure annoyance, anger swelling up inside him as he glared at nothing.

Everyone's barely seen you the last four weeks. Mission, shower, sleep, wake up, eat, mission --- that was the routine you've committed to ever since those old fucks decided to abruptly assign you a load of jobs to take care of.

They didn't even work him or Suguru as much as they worked you. It was as though one day, they just up and decided that your skills just needed to be put to the test on a daily basis. Pushed to the very brink, see if you could handle it or not.

And, you took it. Without a single word. You just took it like a good little bitch...and THAT pissed him off.

"Don't even think about it, Satoru." Of course, he knew. Suguru knew everything about him by this point. Huffing, the silver-haired threw himself into the couch, the raven-haired's arms already raised as Gojo plopped his head into his best friend's lap. (Suguru now has an elbow stabbing Gojo's sternum while the other test on the arm rest, fingers playing with the ends of silver locks)

"They don't even fight back! No argument, no protest--- nothing! Where's the spitfire? That bitch is always fighting with me so why not with those old sacks of skin, hm?"

Suguru types something, "Think about it this way, they are an outsider on foreign soil. It's chaotic enough they only got here a few months ago. They don't know anyone and need as many allies as they can get --- you know they've always been quite the politician themselves. They're just playing the game."

The Six-Eye user groaned in exasperation, childishly kicking his feet against the arm rest, "I hate clan politics. So fucking boring. Why do they even bother with those fossils?"

Suguru paused, "Did you not notice, that ever since they arrived here, the spotlight's been taken off of you?"

Gojo pushed the glasses down his nose, confusion in his beautiful eyes, "What do you mean?"

It was Suguru's turn to click his tongue in annoyance, "Satoru, they've been taking the heat for you. So that you can have some semblance of privacy."

For the first time in a long time, Gojo Satoru is silent. A stunned expression adores his features, eyes, once again, focusing on oblivion as his mind processes what Suguru said

"They...they care about me?"

Suguru freezes, fingers hovering over the plastic keyboard of his flip phone. A little bunny charm hangs from the device, Gojo notices. Ieiri must've gotten it for him

"Obviously." He said it as though it was common knowledge. As though everyone knew this to be a fact instead of a myth or falsehood.

"Are you sure?"

Closing the phone, Suguru gazed down at his friend. An indecipherable look in his darkness as he made a slight face, "You know, they're not good with feelings, Satoru."

Gojo whines, staring up at his best friend, faces inches away, "Then why don't they ever call me by my name, eh? Always Gojo this, Gojo that --- they call you by yours, so why not mine?"

Is this motherfuckers being serious rn? Is she for real fucking jealous?

"...I don't know." He lied through his teeth

But Gojo can see all

"Bullshit, you've had the most interactions with them. So it would only make sense for you to know, spit it out."

Suguru told his eyes at his friend's childish antics, "Why don't you just hang with them more? Maybe that'll do the trick."

Sitting up, Gojo threw his hands up in the air, annoyance evident in his voice as he screeched, "I've tried! But it's like they avoid me like I got the freaking bird flu or something."

His interactions with you have always been positive on the surface. Regardless, something has always felt off between the two of you. You took all to his touch despite having avoided everyone else's, sides from Suguru's. In fact, you seem to gravitate towards him. It's likely you are touch starved but for what reason, he didn't know.

You always had this tendency to keep things close to your chest, no matter what. It's been months and none actually knew a thing about your past. Why is that? Why are you so secretive?

You acted like nothing was wrong but all the signs pointed opposite. Did you think him dumb? Did you think he couldn't see the little fears in your head turn as you overnight a most miniscule of interactions as though analyzing it would save your life in the end? He might be blind to others thoughts on him, but not yours.

Although, he didn't know what your thoughts about him were --- he knew that you tolerated him enough that it was safe to assume you enjoyed his presence more than others. And, that was saying a lot.

He bought you things, gave you your favorite foods. Made sure you were comfortable with the people around you, paid attention to you as to not make to feel neglected. So why was it that he still felt miles away from you?

And why did he care so much?

" 'Toru, where did you go?" A familiar voice broke him out of his train of thoughts, looking to his right, Gojo blinked at the sight of a concerned Suguru. Whose eyebrows are nearly knitted at the center, a light frown staining his sharp features like bad art.

"Just thinking," cerulean blue glimpsed down to the eclipse chart that hanged from the other male's strong neck, "Ne, Suguru. Do you care about them?"

Said man rubbed the back of his neck, an awkward look on his face as he nodded, "Yeah, you could say that, I guess."

(Side Note: Suguru did not feel awkward at the fact that he actually cares about you, but rather, he didn't expect Gojo to just abruptly ask emotionally charge questions --- Gojo is much like that one friend who just randomly asks if you love them at the most random of times. They require constant reassurance without making it seem like they are needy/clingy so they ask it in the most nonchalant of manners)

"Do you care about me too?"

"Of course." Not a moment's hesitation. No stutter nor stranger, it was clear and concise. Most of all, it was the truth.

At this, the silver-haired laid his head onto his friend's shoulder. A discreet smile sweetening his lips.

"Okay." "Okay?" "Okay."

Gojo looked at Suguru with squinted eyes, a pout on his lips, "Who were you texting?" "What?" "You were so focused, ignoring me for your phone. So, who were you texting?"

"Utahime." Gojo made a confused face, "What? What for?"

"Nothing important, to be honest. She was just telling me something she saw while on a mission."

"What'd she see?" Gojo quipped.

Suguru hummed, laying his own head on top of Gojo's, an indecipherable expression on his canvas, "Just a little something."

.

.

.

You stood under the rain, streaks of red running down your face as you viciously glared at the curse chained up in front of you. It whine and squirmed under the weight of your cursed chains.

Gashes covered your body, some clean-cut, others would be a mess to stitch back up. Although, as you made action to move over to the curse, you nearly screamed as a lightning strike of pain shot through your abdomen. Taking a moment to focus on your breaths, you gazed down to your torso, mouth twisting into a snarl at the bloody sight.

A hole, the size of your fist, right through your flesh. Must've happened while one of the major curses had you under it,

they did it again. They fucking did it again! It was supposed to be a bunch of Grade 2's.

Should've fucking known

Funnily enough (not funny at all, you're beyond pissed off now), what they meant was a bunch of Grade 1's. Even better, they failed to mention two of them was near-Special Grade

Without a moment longer, you sliced the hideous creatures into smithereens (you would've loved to punch into a pulp but the wounds on your body restrained you from doing so.)

Pulling out your phone, you thumbed the third contact.

"It's done."

"Complaints?"

You bit your tongue until you tasted iron, "None."

"Good. Did you reconsider?"

"No."

A deep static sigh echoed form the other end, "You're proving to be quite the nuisance, little one. Where's your sense of gratitude?"

"When you're not looking, I'm going to absolutely annihilate that little guitar of yours. Now, are we done?"

A brief pause, "For now." The line dies.

What a pain

Literally and figuratively

Although, it was nice. To feel something instead of overwhelming guilt. As you tightened your fist, the cursed chains that wrapped around your knuckles softly whined under the pressure. The soreness of your digits slowly brought you back into reality --- times like these, you missed that stupid onion. He'd talk your ear off, but he had this way of bringing you back to Earth. Suguru also had that skill, but his would lull you to sleep while Gojo gave you enough energy to move about your day.

They both had their benefits

Agh, you really are fucked --- wait...you're not alone

"Well, well. Didn't think I'd find you here." That voice...

You'd only need to glance over your shoulders to see the truth, you could recognize that soul from anywhere

"And, I didn't expect to see you again, Tsukumo."

...

(A/N): Hi hello so like forget whatever I said about the timeline being fucked up. I fixed it but good fucking luck cuz we about to go warp 9 soon enough.

Song Inspo: Borderline - Tame Impala

Huh? How the hell do you know Yuki Tsukumo? And why was she looking for you in the first place?

What did Utahime see that she contacted Suguru?

Why are the Higher-Ups trying to kill you? What exactly did you do to get on their bad side?

Originally:

"Then why don't they ever call me by name, ne?" Suguru was supposed to respond with, "Because you aren't open with them, Satoru." But held his tongue and went with, "I don't know."

"What? What for?" Suguru was supposed to say, "I was... verifying a rumor, nothing important." Yet, at the last second, he switched to, "She was just telling me something she saw while on a mission."

Why is Suguru so secretive all of a sudden? In fact, he's been quite reserved for a while now...

The first contact in your phone was suppose to be Kiyotaka Ijichi. (Did you think I forgot his existence? Well, you are correct.) But I changed it.

The first two contacts in your phone are Toru and Sugu, in that order. (I wonder if the order actually matters)

Ah, it wasn't Tsukumo you were supposed to meet. For the original character, I was torn between two individuals --- one you already unknowingly met and another you met but kept quiet about. Both are surprisingly relevant to one another, colleagues if you will.

Drop a comment!

Feel free to buy me a 🦩

Hope you enjoyed!

[tanith-rhea]

From Newark to Burlington

"You are that motherfucker who spilt coffee all over me and almost made me miss my plane in the cafeteria and now we’re stuck beside each other for this 4-hour flight; wait a second, did you just fall asleep on my shoulder? Oh god you look cute while sleeping"

Word count: 2.3k

Your day was only beginning but already could not get worse. You needed to get the 10 a.m. plane from Newark to South Burlington in twenty minutes, and the barista was infuriatingly slow.

The queue was moving at a sloth's pace, and when it finally got to you, you could only control yourself not to run from the cafeteria to the gates in a panic. But you had some semblance of self-respect and settled for a quick walk; not everyone was you, though.

When you were just getting to the glass doors, someone from your left, too preoccupied with texting on their phone, crashed right into you, spilling your drink all over the nice suit jacket you bought for your first day at your new job. Great! Perfect! Now you had a ruined jacket, no other clothes to change into for the flight and worst of all: no coffee.

"Watch it, damn it!" you yelled at the person rapidly shooting apologies to you from over your head.

Over your head? What? You stopped to look the person in the face, and could not help but hold your breath for two to three seconds. Standing tall beside you was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen, and you'd seen some very fine women in your college days. Art school had all types of exquisite people, from models to actresses and tormented poets who always managed to surprise you in bed.

No, the silvery blond with reddened lips and badass sunglasses was the most gorgeous woman you'd ever laid eyes on.

You didn't know what to say for a bit, watching the regret and kindness wash away from the woman's face and be replaced by an arched brow and an unimpressed sneer.

"I am tremendously sorry," she definitely wasn't, "I should have looked" her tone was icy, and her posture was erect, although her smile was sickenly sweet.

You cursed yourself for your temper and tried to remedy your behaviour by sweetly reassuring her that it was all fine, but all you received in return was a side grin and scrunched nose that didn't convey the normal cuteness you'd think but utter distaste before she walked away in those mile-long legs and disappeared in the crowd.

Only you to fuck up so well what could have been a nice airport chat and, with any luck, exchange of numbers (you were smooth enough, it wasn't difficult to pick up women most times). Sighing, you went to your gate to get on the plane and finally be done with it all. Four hours of flight and you'd be starting your brand new life at Nevermore Academy. All the stress would be worth it.

It wasn't forty minutes later when the last passengers were boarding the plane and you saw her again. That goddess of a woman, walking down the corridor looking at the numbers on the seats. She had a scarf around her hair now and gracious gloved hands you hadn't noticed before. She didn't see you at first but stopping by the seat beside you, she looked up and saw you and the notebooks on your lap. You could guess your face was paler than the white sheets of paper all around.

She breathed deeply, and you briefly wondered if she would start a fight with you right now, in the middle of the plane, to get rid of the earlier stress you caused her. Wait, what? She bumped into you! You were the one with the right to be annoyed!

But she didn't do anything. She didn't even say anything or acknowledge your presence before sitting in the comfortable recliner beside you and picking up a novel from her rather tasteful tote bag (how could a motherf*cking tote bag be tasteful?? What the hell?). She proceeded to read for the next couple of hours, giving you the cold shoulder you were starting to think you didn't deserve all that much. Ok, you snapped at her once, but you apologised, right? Oh, no, you didn't. Well fuck.

You also didn't want to interrupt her and elicit more of her wrath, so you just resigned to admiring her from the corner of your eyes every few minutes. Damn, she was fine.

At eleven thirty, the plane made a one-hour stop at Washington, D.C., and some passengers were starting to get up to walk around or buy some snacks at the airport. You decided to have a stroll and left the tall, mysterious drama queen with her book. She could brood all she liked; you needed that coffee and some fresh air if you were to spend two more hours controlling yourself from trying to pass her a pickup line or not drool over the elegant movement of her fingers turning pages.

She did soft sounds while reading. You noticed it half an hour into the flight. While you were writing some notes and adjusting your schedule for the upcoming week, she would lightly chuckle or release a small huff as if frustrated with the character's choice in the story. It was mesmerising, utterly adorable, and you had to refrain from telling her to shut up if she didn't want to be kissed.

This airplane crush was getting out of hand, and while waiting for your coffee to get ready you decided to act.

Back in the blue-carpeted corridor, you strode confidently to your seat and weren't surprised to find the lovely woman still there. She wasn't reading this time but apparently writing on her phone. You could not abstain from feeling a bit frustrated by it being the entire reason that breathtaking piece of paradise was annoyed at you.

"Hey" you started, very charmingly of course, "I thought you'd be hungry by now, I haven't seen you eat since we left Newark and brought you these almond butter and banana roll-ups" you give her a smile you truly hoped was one of your cute ones that every girl at bars said made you look adorably sweet and naive.

She looked up at you and, for the first time, you saw her eyes without sunglasses. Of course she would have beautiful deep pools of blue in which you'd happily drown on. She looked questioningly at the treat neatly wrapped in a fancy cardboard box with leaves and flowers printed on it and back at you. Did you really sound that much of an asshole for her to be so suspicious?

"I didn't know if you were a vegetarian or vegan or whatever, so a went vegan to be safe" you shrugged lamely, trying to seem casual and not at all the weirdo that yelled at someone and was now pathetically trying to pave a road back to civility with them... and maybe a bit more than just civility.

"Thank you," she said uncertainly, taking the tiny package from your hand and sweet Jesus a glove could not make you shiver like that, it was against the law, "You didn't have to" she seemed a bit speechless, and you counted that as better than outright telling you to piss off.

"But I wanted to" you smiled charmingly at her and went to your seat. Some color was beginning to paint her cheeks and you couldn't help the smugness you felt by eliciting a response like that from her. She was not an ice wall after all.

"I wanted to apologise for how I acted earlier" you started again while she untied the lace around the cute box, a sweet banana scent coming from it when opened "I shouldn't have snapped at you, I was just a bit on edge to get to the plane" you chuckled.

"And yet I made it to the plane too, being polite and all" ooookay she was a bit of a bastard then. You liked the sass.

"Yes, indeed you made it" you laughed at that, beginning to feel that bubbly excitement of flirting in your sternum "To my delight".

She laughed with the food in her mouth, bringing her hand to cover it while she tried to control herself and finish eating.

"What do mean, delight? I've acted like a stubborn brooding child for the past two hours" she was laughing a throaty deep laugh now and you couldn't get enough of it. God, this woman would be the end of you.

"Yes, but I enjoyed watching you read. Very regal and imposing" she smiled at that, turning a bit redder but relaxing, her shoulders dropping a bit with a breath.

"So when you aren't being an irritable prat you're a charmer?" she arched a brow at you and you felt it like a blow to the stomach. That girl had some serious balls.

The flight improved 200% after that, with you asking her about the novel she was reading (Emma) and her taking an interest in your general class notes on classical portrayals of discriminated races throughout history. Turns out she supported normie-outcast-relations and thought it was an important issue to address in the modern era (which yes, finally someone agrees with you — it was so goddamn hard to find other normies that weren't scared shitless of people with superpowers) and you had very similar ideas on it.

Larissa, you learned, was not cold and unfriendly at all. She was a sweet bundle of nerves in a position of power at some institution that seemed unable to work without sending her e-mails every half hour. It was actually what she was doing when you bumped at the cafeteria, and you felt like the biggest dumbass on earth when she told you.

Around one you had fallen into a comfortable silence; her arm pressed against yours between the seats. You were slowly pilling up the courage to maybe graze her fingers and see if she would hold your hand when a weight fell on your shoulder and Larissa was sleeping against you.

You were ready to die then and there. Y/n, the happiest puppy alive on planet Earth. She was breathing softly against your neck and her throat was close to your shoulder. Although you really didn't mind the warmth from her small outtakes of breath, that could not be comfortable at all, so you tried to gently settle her until she seemed satisfied enough. If the light moan she made when her nose met your neck was anything to go by, you were sure she was fine. And for the seven hells, you weren't. How did she dare moan so close to your ear? Against your goddamned skin? If you could melt from overheating you would be a puddle at her feet.

The thing was, she wasn't just sinfully gorgeous, she was also heartbreakingly soft and comforting and sweet and everything good that ever existed. You could tell that underneath the mascara her eyelashes were pale and the little tip of her upturned nose was the cutest thing to ever be made in the entire history of the human race. You could spend an eleven-hour flight easily just cataloguing every inch of her face and fantasizing about getting the chance to kiss those lipstick-red lips, wondering if it would smudge and show everyone who saw you what you were doing. You had a feeling it would smudge, and if it didn't you'd have to put extra effort into showing people she was yours.

Jesus, that was a bit too much, wasn't it? But with her cheek pressed against your shoulder, you couldn't help but feel it wasn't. Truthfully it wasn't even near enough.

The airplane landed shortly after, and you dreaded having to wake her up and lose the warm pressure. You didn't have to, tough. The movement caused by the landing woke Larissa, who breathed deeply into your skin and rapidly sat up, suddenly tense.

She was turning a very becoming shade of red, and you had to bite your lip to keep from smiling too much.

"Good morning, princess" you teased.

"Oh, shut up!" she hid her face in her hands "I can't believe I slept on you, oh my god"

"Don't act so mortified. You are much nicer when sleeping, I enjoyed myself immensely" you laughed at her murderous face and you both started getting ready to exit.

You didn't want to lose her at the airport, but after getting your luggage it was quite easy to spot her. You thanked god for your taste in women and approached the tall goddess.

"Hey, I know this might be a little too soon, but would you like to go out for coffee sometime?" you tried the casual excuse to have her phone number, and she laughed. She laughed! The guts!

"I think coffee should be avoided near me" she winked, and you were going to die "But I'd love to meet again, maybe we could have hot chocolate at this cosy cafe in the city I'm near, Jericho."

Your brows went up, was this destiny?

"Actually, I'll be living there for a while til I get settled on my new job, so that would be perfect!"

"Really?" she seemed excited, but a small crease formed between her eyebrows and she looked you up and down before snapping out of whatever thought she was having and picking up her phone to save your number.

You didn't receive any messages, and that was expected just over two hours after you parted. You were about to meet with the headmistress of the Nevermore Academy for your new position as the new history teacher and not having your nice suit jacket was making you nervous. Of course everything would be fine, but you wanted to make a good impression nonetheless.

When the door opened, a redheaded woman led you inside the most extravagant and tasteful office you'd ever seen. But behind the desk wasn't your new boss... seated in a fitted pistachio-coloured dress was Larissa. The beautiful stranger who spent half a flight cosily sleeping on your shoulder just hours ago.

"Y/n y/ln?" Larissa asked politely as if nothing was the bother.

"Principal Weems, I presume" you were so screwed.

"What a delight to see you again so soon" she smiled devilishly.

You were in shock, every inch of your body overjoyed and strangely aroused when a voice knocked you off your half trance.

"Wait, you two know each other?"

Part two can be found here.

[benewol]

beat the shit out of them [Vin Jin x Reader]

this work is heavily influenced by @wannaeatramyeon 's works, especially her unhinged reader fic featuring vin!! no warnings, reader can also be considered genderneutral as far as im concerned just a bunch of cussing tbh. hope you enjoy :))

"Vin Jin."

...

"Hey, Vin Jin."

...

"I'm fucking talking to you!"

The next thing he feels is a harsh smack on the back of his head as he quickly catches himself before the chair can tip over.

"The fuck do you want?! Fucking crazy ass bitch," he rubs the now throbbing, sore spot you gave him, face scrunching up as usual.

Dramatic motherfucker.

"If you didn't tint your glasses over so much you wouldn't be getting smacked. You would've seen me preparing to swing, too," you smirk in retaliation, your arms moving from their crossed position to resting next to your sides while you're leaning against his table.

He merely sends you what you think is probably supposed to be a nasty glare and re-positions his legs on that same table, nudging your back with his polished sneakers.

So you continue talking.

"Mary's been trying to gesture for you to leave the classroom without making a commotion, you know."

"Okay, and?"

"Your bff needs you and that's all you can say? Really?" You roll your eyes.

"Can't be so important if it only took you to solve it."

"Fuck off."

"Lol, you first."

"Sure. Tell me why you keep tinting your glasses and I will."

His eyes furrow inquisitively.

"I don't need to do shit. Class is starting soon so you need to move your fat ass soon anyway, might as well do it immediately," his smug smile one of those you'd love to fill with a pile of some of his ridiculous sheets of lyrics crumpled up.

That's a good idea. You're adding that to your list titled 'what would piss vincent the fuck off'.

"Your sense of time is, unsurprisingly, tremendously shit. We have another half an hour left, you moron," you reach out your hand to flick his wide forehead, which he now sees coming and dodges, catching himself before falling yet again.

What a fucking loser, you shake your head and keep yourself from succumbing to laughter.

"Whatever. I'm not showing you shit."

"Come on. I'm sure whatever it is you're blowing it out of proportion," you reach out again to touch his glasses.

He reaches out too. To stop your hand from moving towards his sunglasses. And his grip is not as harsh as you'd expected it to be.

"Stop it. If you see it, I'll have to kill you."

"See what? You're being so ominous. Do you have weird rectangular pupils like goats or what?"

He sputters for a moment.

"That'd be funny."

"The fuck?"

"You could come up with a line like 'my eyes are like those of a goat, yeah, I'm the GOAT'," you press your lips together to stop the laughter from spilling out of your mouth.

That line was good.

He won't tell you that, though, because you were way too close to uncovering the truth.

He huffs, turning his head away from you and crossing his arms in front of his chest.

What he doesn't know is that his oh-so-clever self forgot to re-tint his glasses.

This in turn means the sun's rays hit his lenses so nicely you were able to catch a tiny glimpse of his two grey irises and the resulting pupils in his left eye.

Your breath catches in your throat.

A soft gasp makes his head turn back to you, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

"What's that? Pulling a stupid line like that and immediately growing quiet?" He mumbles to mask his alarm.

You hum, and he notices your solemn expression, making him grow apprehensive.

"Weren't you Cheonliang's number one?"

"Still am."

"And Allied's number two?"

"Yeah."

"How come you don't just lose the shades and simply beat the shit out of anyone who comments on your eyes, then?"

He stares at you. Still occasionally having rubbed the wound you'd inflicted on the back of his head, he loosens his arms which were crossed behind it.

Placing them on his thighs, he balls his fists.

"Shut up."

He abruptly stands up and moves towards the door, shaking the table you were leaning against, making you furrow your brows in irritation.

Typical.

At least you'll know where to find him.

If things don't go his way, he'll just lock himself in the boys' bathroom and listen to one of Duke's albums.

You don't intend letting him flee the scene this time, though.

"Don't you dare run away now."

He doesn't know why, but he halts in his steps.

"Or else what, pipsqueak?"

He turns back towards you.

"Your eye adds to your nonexistent charm."

...

"Hello?"

...

"Earth to Vincent?" You wave your hand in front of his shielded eyes.

Turning on his heel, he doesn't leave without wanting to have the last word.

"Fucking weirdo, I don't need your pity."

"Asshole, I'm not pitying you!!"

What you fail to see is the faintest of rose-coloured blushes on Vin's cheeks as he puckers his lips, absentmindedly scratching at his lenses while sauntering down the hallway.

[cantstoptheimagines]

Tequila’s Oath (JJ Maybank | Outer Banks) 

Part One 

Summary — You and JJ try to keep your new relationship a secret from the other pogues. It doesn’t go well.

Warnings and Other Tags ➳ References to things that happened in Part One (sex, hangovers, alcohol and drug use, drunken love confessions, etc.). ➳ Mentions of sex; alcohol and drug use; cursing; not-so-secret relationship that comes from friends to lovers (so throw in some ‘lying to the other pogues’ for good measure); pogue beach day where Reader spends some time with Kie; JJ being a clingy motherfucker (again); jealousy, jealousy!! for your reading pleasure!!; Kie, John B, and Pope go on a secret mission; JJ’s dad isn’t here because our boy deserves some happiness; Reader is a pogue.

Notes ➳ Word Count is 2,038. ➳ Reader uses feminine pronouns (she/her).

FAQ | Masterlist | Fandoms | Requests | Coming Soon | Schedule 

“I don’t believe you.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and opened your eyes. Your dark sunglasses helped keep away the bright sunlight as you turned your head to look at Kie, who lay next to you.

The two of you were resting on a large picnic blanket, big enough for all the pogues, listening to the ocean waves as you both relaxed on the beach. The boys were out on the waves, occasionally shouting at one another or splashing water in each other’s faces.

“What’s not to believe?” you asked.

Kie scoffed loudly, causing you to smirk in amusement. She then rolled onto her side, balancing on her arm as she did so, placed her sunglasses on her head, and set you with a stone-cold glare, “Don’t treat me like an idiot!”

“I told you, Kie,” you sighed, twiddling your fingers against your stomach as you remained on your back, head still turned to look at her. “Nothing happened.”

“You didn’t have sex with JJ after that party?” she asked, though she clearly didn’t believe you. Of course, she was right, but you weren’t going to tell her that.

“Nope,” you said, shaking your head. “We both went to his house that night, but when we woke up, he was in his room and I was on the couch. Fully clothed. So whatever fantasies you’ve cooked up in that head of yours, let ‘em go because they’re wrong.” 

“Yeah fucking right,” muttered Kie, putting her sunglasses back on and moving to lie on her back like she had been. “You’re such a liar.”

“I am not!”

“You totally are!” she exclaimed, turning her head to look at you, now in the same position as you. “You might have a good poker face when I ask you about it, but JJ certainly doesn’t. He always gets that smarmy little grin of his on his face!”

You nearly groaned, but kept it in. You knew JJ’s inability to hide a smile would be your downfall. Instead of sharing those thoughts, you only replied, “Yeah? Maybe that’s because he’s an idiot, Kie. He’s always like that.”

“I’m gonna get it out of you one day,” she muttered, sitting up and then leaning on her hands to stabilize her new position. “Head’s up.”

You furrowed your eyebrows before copying her movements. Sitting up, you could see JJ carrying his surfboard at his side as he made his way onto the sand. John B and Pope weren’t too far behind. While the two boys laughed and shoved at one another, JJ’s eyes were trained on you as he approached the picnic blanket.

Before you could offer any sort of greeting, he shook his wet hair back and forth, spraying you with salt water as you shrieked in surprise. He grinned widely when you threw some sand back at him. He carefully put down his surfboard and plopped down next to you.

“Dude!” you complained, taking off your wet sunglasses and setting them aside.

“You know you like it,” he chuckled, placing a hand on the back of your neck and caressing your skin with the pad of his thumbs. “You eat yet?”

You glared at Kie when she let out a snort. JJ narrowed his eyes at the two of you, suspicion overtaking him. He shifted and tried to force you into meeting his gaze, but you refused. Kie watched the scene carefully. 

“I brought you snacks and everything,” she heard JJ mutter. “Told you to take ‘em since you didn’t get breakfast. C’mon.”

By now, John B and Pope had reached the picnic blanket as well. They, too, set aside their boards before drying themselves off, though not in the same manner JJ had.

Kie and the two boys stared as JJ grabbed your hand, helping you stand. He then wrapped an arm around your shoulders before leading you in the direction of John B’s beaten van, which was known as ‘The Twinkie’ by nearly every pogue on the island. 

“Anything?” asked Pope, rolling his eyes when JJ slipped his fingers through the strings of your swimsuit and tugged you closer. 

“Nope,” sighed Kie. “She wouldn’t budge.”

“Neither would he,” said John B. “Maybe they’re telling the truth.”

“Oh, please,” scoffed Kie. “Look at ‘em!” 

The three watched as JJ reached into the van and pulled out some snacks. He opened one of them before forcing it into your hands, encouraging you to eat and dancing when you did. You shoved him away with a grin after he shimmied a bit too close. JJ ducked his head for a brief moment, laughing shyly, before playing with the strings of your swimsuit once more. 

“I bet I could get them to fess up,” said Pope.

Both Kie and John B stared at him in surprise. With a disbelieving smile, John B asked, “And how’s that, Pope?”

Pope grinned in response, though his eyes remained on you and JJ, still laughing together in the distance. John B couldn’t stop himself from sharing an unsure glance with Kie, who shrugged and shook her head in confusion.

Finally, Pope decided to make his ideas a bit more clear, simply asking, “Up for another kegger?” 

You leaned against Kie by the bonfire, chills rising on your arms. She and Pope were busy laughing with some tourons who decided to show up at the Boneyard. Thankfully, Kie had brought a blanket that she was willing to share.

“Why don’t you go ask JJ to warm you up?” she muttered.

“Shut up, Kie,” you scoffed.

“Okay,” she shrugged, before gesturing to something in the distance. “If you’re not with JJ, maybe you should go for John B? He’s been checking you out all night.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows at her, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Turn around,” she smirked. 

You did as she said, only to find that she was right. Across the sand, standing by the keg, John B stared at you over the rim of his red solo cup. If it were anyone else, you might have been creeped out, but John B was a friend. One who had never shown romantic interest in you. You were in the clear.

You huffed, turned back to Kie, and muttered, “He’s just drunk. Or high. Or both, if he’s been around JJ tonight. Probably thinks I have fairy wings sprouting out of my back or something stupid like that.”

“You sure about that?” she asked, grinning widely as she glanced over your shoulder. “Because he’s coming your way.”

“What?” 

She was right. Looking over your shoulder allowed you to see that. Drink in hand, John B was making his way across the sand, drunken eyes on you. Well, drunken to you, at least. From her point of view, Kie knew John B’s expression to be fearful instead, given what he was about to do.

“Kie, what do I do—?!” you asked, only to find her missing when you turned back. In the distance, you could see her running across the Boneyard with Pope, shivering when you realized she had taken the throw blanket with her. “Oh, screw you, Carrera.”

The warmth of someone else sitting next to you didn’t leave you feeling cold for very long. Quietly, they greeted you, “Hey.” 

You sighed, meeting John B’s gaze, “What’s up?” 

“Nothing,” he shrugged, biting his lip with a grin. “You look good tonight, ya know?” 

Shit, you thought. He really is drunk off his ass. 

“Thanks, John B,” you replied, shifting awkwardly when he placed an arm your shoulders. 

“I mean it,” he said, moving his hand to your waist and tracing over the hem of your shirt. “Would you—uh—? Would you wanna get outta here?”

John B nearly grimaced when your eyebrows furrowed. How he let Pope and Kie talk him into this, he wasn’t sure, but he’d never listen to them ever again. Especially with the way JJ’s eyes were practically burning into his skull from across the beach.

“No offense, John B,” you said, removing his hand from your waist before patting it and placing it back onto his lap, “but I’m not into you like that.” 

“Yeah! Yeah, of course!” he nodded. “I knew that! I just—ya know—I don’t know—you’re just—uh—!”

He scratched the back of his neck. The atmosphere was slowly becoming more and more awkward by the second. Your eyes were shifting back and forth, searching for a potential escape, as he continued to struggle for an explanation.

Pope and Kie are going to be dead by the end of this kegger, he swore to himself. Why me?

He reached out, gently rubbing your knee. You grimaced and opened your mouth to ask exactly how high he had gotten over the course of the night, only to be interrupted by a sudden blur and wave of shouts.

John B was sent tumbling to the ground. He coughed at the feeling of sand in his mouth. His shirt was soaked in beer as his cup fell from his hands.

JJ towered over him, glaring down with a drunken fire in his eyes. You were between them, struggling to hold JJ back. John B couldn’t help but glare at Kie and Pope, who were giving him thumbs-up. Some people at the party had turned their attention to the boys’ sudden commotion.

“I’m gonna stomp your ass, John B!” shouted JJ, bring his friend’s attention back to him. “Fuck is wrong with you?!” 

“J!” you exclaimed. “JJ, stop!” 

John B was instantly reminded of why he had been so reluctant to go along with Pope’s plan. Pope, along with Kie, essentially wanted to offer up John B as a sacrifice. All of it cooked up in an effort to make JJ jealous. To make one of you admit the true status of your relationship.

But now, as John B watched you cut off JJ’s movements each time he attempted to sidestep you, he felt his heart race with anxiety. He quickly scrambled to his feet. And with the worried expressions on both Pope and Kie, they clearly hadn’t thought JJ would get this angry. 

John B, covered in alcohol and a nervous sweat, took a step back, “JJ! I didn’t mean it, man! Alright?!”

“Shut up!”

“JJ! It’s fine!”

“He fucking touched you!” shouted JJ, setting his sights on you instead. “He knows! They all fucking know! He knows you’re mine and he still fucking touched you!” 

His rant came to a stop upon hearing a loud shriek suddenly escaped Kie. She, Pope, and John B, whose fear had vanished in an instant, all stared at the two of you with excited, sparkling eyes. Before JJ could snap at them, Kie exclaimed with a grin, “You said it!” 

They recoiled, however, when you glared at them over your shoulder, hands still on JJ’s ribs in case he tried to go for John B again, “What?” 

“Well,” muttered Kie, “we knew neither of you were telling the truth about what happened at the last party we had, so—”

“These two gave me up as a sacrifice because they wanted to be nosy!” interrupted John B. 

“Dude!” exclaimed Pope. “It wasn’t a ‘sacrifice’! Stop being so dramatic—!”

“He almost kicked my ass—!”

Kie jumped into the conversation, “But he admitted they’re together—!” 

As the three continued arguing, you and JJ shared a confused glance with one another. He huffed, shaking his head and rubbing at his heavy eyes with the heels of his palms, “I’m too stoned for this shit.”

You chuckled, bringing a smile to JJ’s face. He was right. The combination of alcohol and weed, the scent of which had embedded itself into his clothes, filled your nose. There was no way he’d be driving back to the Château.

“Wanna go? Château isn’t too far of a walk.”

A wide grin lit up JJ’s face in an instant, “Another round of sloppy—?”

You interrupted him with a snort, gently shoving him away with a smile, even though he was back on you within seconds, “In your dreams.”

“Always.”

“Is that a JJ promise too?”

“No,” he smiled, trailing behind you with his fingers intertwined with yours, “this one is a tequila’s oath. Get it together, babe.”

[caliburn-the-sword]

fhh ch35-40

another day another suffering cause of chloe gong lesgo

scarf and sunglasses look?? did miss chloe just reference the superhero disguise gag in the mcu of sunnies, cap and hoodie?? given she marketed the first book as like captain america,,, it's almost defo the case fvksdjfs

just the entire comedy bit about orion's big head fksdnfs

the way rosalind is inching closer and closer to figuring out that phoebe is priest

omg poor phoebe being approached by her mother's men RIGHT after expressing her abandonment issues

i really hope lady hong's men don't bring back rosalind's blood on the knife a sample for her to study and apply to her supersoldiers,,,

PHOEBE YOU IDIOT WHY WOULD YOU GIVE YOURSELF UP OMG

orion pov again. especially interesting now that he's more or less seeing rosalind in action for the first time

nation over everything? nation over everything, but never you, sweetheart. and yet here celia is, almost choosing not to sacrifice communist agents even if it means she can't save oliver, because of her principles, because she doesn't want to lie. god i love celia. stop giving her the hardest battles i can't take it

ROSORION KISS ROSORION KISS

"to hear a proper laugh and store it away in a place no one could ever take from him again." THAT'S SO KAZ BREKKER CORE I'M THROWING UP. HE WOULD HAVE BOTTLED HER LAUGH AND GOTTEN DRUNK ON IT EVERY NIGHT

orion likes to get bitten confirmed. kinky bastard. i love knowing where all those "rosalind bites people" memes were coming from now fksjdhn

orion IS a prettyboy

alisa is such a little shit i love her. you go you funky little cockblocker

phoebe's identity crisis and being three girls at once because of all the faces she puts on, not knowing who the real one is >>> there's a reason she's my favourite character i'm smashing my head against a wall again and again and again until a crack forms and brings down the entire roof of the house on my head

poor phoebe my eyes are actually burning i will NOT cry but my poor girl

"there was no such reality where Phoebe could have stayed in the shadows forever protecting Orion. Eventually, people had to face their own danger." phoebe is totally gonna expose herself at the nationalist base to save oli

SILAS WHAT THE FUCK. I AM GNAWING THROUGH SOLID WOOD AND METAL WITH MY TEETH. WHAT THE FUCK. HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN. I REMEMBER THE SILAS IS A QUADRUPLE AGENT THEORIES. BUT THIS IS WORSE. THIS IS SO MUCH WORSE. HOW COULD HE BE WITH LADY HONG

phoebe's urge to go all priest on her mum for her betrayal -> she's gonna go all priest on silas. i NEED it

delulu is the solulu i will simply believe that silas is quadruple or quintuple agenting rn until it becomes trululu there is no way he's NOT on our side

"Maybe they ran into each other at headquarters," oh they've run into each other alright celia ksjdnfs (coping with humour is the only thing left for me to do without screaming)

hgdjhb i love orion he's such a little guy for enjoying the wires

"Rosalind and Celia may as well start taking turns on whose mission partner went missing." STOPPPP MISS CHLOE THAT'S FUCKING COLD

SILAS YOU MOTHERFUCKER. N O T H I N G ON PHOEBE??? MOTHERFUCKER. I'M FIGHTING HIM I'M FIGHTING HIM I'M FIGHTING HIM HE HAS NO BUSINESS GOING ON ABOUT THE OLI RESCUE AS IF WE WASN'T TAKING BLOOD FOR LADY HONG. AND THIS IS REALLY BOLD CONSIDERING I DON'T EVEN LIKE OLIVER

I HATE DRAMATIC IRONY THIS IS KILLING ME

silas seems genuine but i don't trust him. i fear he's also brainwashed as lady hong's little spy. he was in london with the others for very long. it would let her have eyes and ears in the two major forces in china, nationalists and commies. or maybe lady hong promised phoebe's safety. who knows

the fact that phoebe was called by her name for the entire chapter, only to be called priest at the end?? chills. also i'm dying

SILAS POV. MOTHERFUCKER

THE FACT THAT SILAS SEES THE MOON AS HE DRIVES TO THE NATIONALIST COMPOUND I AM FROTHING AT THE MOUTH

SILAS IS A GUILTY BASTARD HE'S CONSCIOUSLY AWARE OF IT

now celia sees the moon. i want to cry

omg oliver was hallucinating celia. that's almost romantic

oh shit japan is bombing

[strawbrygashez]

My moot @soap-mothership5 asked for my thoughts about Tyler & his fashion sense and I definitely have a couple thoughts on the matter!!!!! 😈😈😈😈 (also sorry some of these get off track and some are more soapshipping things 💀)

•I THINK…. He’d try almost every style at least once. He loves also finding excuses to dress up like if there was a rave he could get into for free he’s dressing to the GODS in rave wear. Same could be said if there was like a goth night at some club somewhere. He takes that kinda shit as a challenge to out do everyone in the fashion department.

•He loves wearing flashy outfits obviously. He doesn’t give a shit what people assume about him and he doesn’t give a shit when people look at him like he’s crazy or whatever. He thinks it’s funny when he gets judgemental stares from people and might even try to put on more of a show because of it (stretching so his shirt goes up more, tugging his pants down a little bit more). He also thinks it’s sweet when people compliment his fashion sense.

• Hes way too good at thrifting. Like you would never expect to be able to find half the shit he does find when he goes. He’ll come home & have a huge pair of platform boots under his arm that he got from a thrift store. The narrator is confused out of his mind because those look expensive but somehow.. Tyler just found them. Tyler has amazing thrifting luck.

•He doesn’t stick to just the men side when it comes to clothes shopping. He will look everywhere for anything. (Unrelated but someone’s probably asked him if the see thru nightgown he’s buying is for a girlfriend and he’s just like, “nah. It’s for my boyfriend.”)

•PERSONALLY I THINK HED SERVE SOOOOOO MUCH IN GRUNGE FAIRY FASHION

(Pic isn’t mine)

ALSO HE NEEDS TO WEAR THIS SOOOO BAD

•If he wasn’t sooooo against this and that and didn’t wanna do project mayhem stuff or whatever, I think he would be a really good fashion designer or model. I need a fashion designer tyler au so bad…

•He’s a hypocrite about not people ‘not being the clothes they wear’ smh. He also will take the fact that he reads fashion magazines to the grave. He’s almost gotten caught owning them a couple times but he blamed them being in the house on marla. The narrator never questioned marla about it.

•He gets the narrator clothes. Both for work and just being at home. Surprisingly he does take into account that the narrator doesn’t wanna be as flashy as him or show off that much of his body. He finds the narrator some pieces that he actually really ends up loving. When Tyler brought him home a penguin onesie, the narrator swore up and down he wouldn’t put that on bc he’d make fun of him..he has it on a minute later tho 🙄 he supposes the teasing isn’t that bad (and being called cute definitely helps)

•Tyler gets attached to certain pieces more than others. His favorite things ever are his sunglasses and red jacket. He’ll pretend they don’t mean shit to them but will obviously look really shook up if something happened to them. The narrator keeps it in mind to be gentle with the clothes Tyler seems to like a lot. The motherfucker will even clean his sunglasses for him when he’s missing Tyler and needs something to do :/

•He loves when the narrator wears his shirts to bed or around the house. They are always baggy on him :,)

•HE KEEPS IN MIND THE OUTFITS & PIECES THE NARRATOR SEEMS TO LIKE THE MOST WHEN HE GETS DRESSED UP! he’ll wear the one pair of shorts he has that are just kinda too short just bc he knows the narrator is dying over it. The narrator is gripping the arms of his seat, trying not to pounce on him whenever Tyler throws on something to get a reaction out of him.

[deancaspinefest]

stay in my arms (if you dare)

Author: FollowingButterflies | Artist: comfycowboy Posting on Thursday March 2

Grammy award-winning singer/actor Dean Winchester is on top of the world. His latest role has him tipped for an Oscar nomination and his life is damn good, thank you very much. That all comes crashing down after a series of death threats forces his manager, Bobby Singer, to hire a bodyguard. Bobby knows just the man for the job. Castiel Krushnic, former CIA field agent and the only person Bobby would trust to protect Dean. Tensions are high and personalities clash from the first meeting, with Dean unwilling to change his lifestyle and Cas just wanting to do the job in peace. A series of events turns the pair into reluctant friends while both try to ignore their growing attraction for each other. 

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

Dean wasn't sure what he had been expecting when he met his new bodyguard, probably some bald, suited hulking guy even taller than Sam with the body shape of a nacho chip and the personality of a mossy boulder. Whatever it was that Dean had been anticipating, Krushnic wasn't it. He was shorter than Dean, even if only by an inch or so. He was also more slender than Dean had been expecting, with a slim runner's body but still muscular. Instead of a suit, he wore what looked like a buttery soft leather jacket with the sleeves haphazardly pushed up to the elbows. Dean couldn't help but notice the strong-looking muscles in Krushnic's forearms, both of which were covered in tattoos. Tattoos that Dean was just itching to get a closer look at. Despite his face being half hidden behind aviator sunglasses, Dean had a hunch that Krushnic was one good-looking motherfucker. That hunch was confirmed when Krushinic lowered his sunglasses, finally looking Dean square in the eyes. Brilliant blue eyes, a jawline so sharp it should have been a crime and, holy fuck, lips that made Dean’s brain go into a tailspin of pretty pornographic images. Forget being someone’s bodyguard, this Krushnic guy should have been on the front cover of the artsy music magazines that Claire had piled up in her bedroom. Well shit. This was going to be interesting. Okay, sure. Dean had spent the best part of a decade surrounded by attractive people. He lived in fucking Los Angeles, after all. If he threw a rock down Melrose Avenue, it would probably hit at least three aspiring actors and two models. The whole damn city was filled with attractive people and he’d worked with a fair few of them. Still, he was momentarily struck silent when he met his new bodyguard.  He couldn’t have just had a bald, nacho-looking guy? "Dean, this is Castiel Krushnic,” Bobby said, shooting a rare smile at the walking wet dream currently standing in Dean’s house. Seeing Bobby smile was more of a rarity than seeing him without his trademark baseball cap and it threw Dean for a loop. Seriously, how the fuck did /Bobby/ know this guy? “Krushnic, this is Dean Winchester." "Nice to meet you," Krushnic said in an accent that was a blend of both Russian and American. Jesus fuck, his voice sounded like he gargled with bourbon each morning and smoked a pack a day. It was the kind of voice you'd hear narrating those steamy fantasy romance novels that Charlie claimed she read for the plot and the plot alone. Again, well shit.

 [continue reading on Ao3 on Thursday March 2]

[lildoodlenoodle]

Spider Freak Behavior Headcanons

Ok so we all know some of my headcanons and thoughts on making the spider people more spidery. So here’s some more, ignoring the obvious ones like eight legs and eyes and spinning webs. While not all of these, or even any of these, will fit all spider people it’s still fun cause you could def apply these to the more freaky spiders, like Miguel O’Hara, Jessica Drew, 6 armed spidey, spider noir, Kaine Parker, *sigh* SpiderHam, etc. If you’re curious as to why I singled out these guys check out here!

So what do I mean by spidery behavior? So glad you asked!

Instinctually/psychologically: Feeling the need to wrap up villains like a spider does with bugs in its web(feeling the need to liquify and drink their insides(these motherfuckers love smoothies)). Loving shiny objects(noir with the rubic cube lol). Spiders do little mating dances and ITS SO CUTE! Spider people should get to do little wiggles to express different emotions! Some spiders also make little chirping sounds to talk to each other or when hunting, so I think spider people should be able to do that. And be able to purr!(more like a cat not just like a spider, cause it’s more versatile and spider people are largely still mammals) Yes that means they like to cuddle. But on the darker side we get aggressiveness and solitude. Like some spiders actively hate any member of their own species, and get territorial. But some do live in colonies(cough cough spider society). I also think many spider people make little web hammocks or little web nests as a comfort/safety thing.

Physiologically: AMAB spiders being smaller than AFAB spiders. Most female spiders are much larger than their male counterparts, so big buff spider ladies! Sensitive eyesight(Miguel looking at your emo ass) with proficiency in green and ultraviolet lights. So they might need to wear sunglasses. This would also go with a vibration sensitivity, like feeling a fly caught in your web. Some spiders are really hairy, like tarantulas! So it stands to reason some spider people might have a lot of body hair or even dense hair that forms spikes(miguel) and can fling those spikes like tarantulas do. Looking more internally, spiders have blue blood due to oxygen attaching to copper instead of iron like it does in humans! So you could totally have spider people with blue/purple/darker colored blood! Spiders don’t have bones either. They got a hard exoskeleton, but you break that and they just kinda squish. So you could definitely change spider peoples’ bone density and what the bones are made out of. Cartilage would be an interesting one. Or you could go straight for chitin, which is also similar to what fingernails and hair is made out of, and is what some exoskeletons are made out of. Spiders also don’t have eyelids, so that could be fun to play around with. Most of you already know, spiders can’t thermoregulate, but they can hibernate, which is definitely something you could explore and have fun with with angst. Oh! And some female spiders can make pheromones to ‘control’ males.(Jessica) I am also always a sucker for mouth body horror, so split jaws and oral pedipalps are very lovely to me!

Let me know if I missed anything else! Also you should add your own freaky spider things to the post, I love seeing fresh ideas on these sorts of things. But ultimately, feel free to cherry pick through this if you want to use any of these, not all of this will work or make sense for every spider!

Alright, I do have more underneath the cut, but it is officially a minors DNI area. We are getting into some frisky stuff below the cut!

Once again, a lot of this will vary based on the spider and spider person you’re talking about so feel free to squint your way through things and cherry pick if you want to use any of this.

With most spiders the males are smaller and submissive compared to the females. So afab spider people are more likely to be dominant in bed whereas amab spider people are more likely to be submissive. Some spiders even eat their mates after sex, so maybe some afab spider people get a little hungry after sex and enjoy biting their partners. If you wanna get freaky, have one actually try to eat someone.(hey Alexa, play Maneater)Whereas amab spider people might have some sex anxiety due to an instinct of getting eaten after sex. On the flip side maybe they like to get bitten? Some male spiders rlly want to be eaten actually, which could translate to masochism, but I could very much see that turning into anxiety and an impending sense of doom after sex. So like aftercare is probably very important(?). Either way biting would be involved. Some male spiders will even do little dances or give their female partners back rubs before sex(which is so cute and silly), so do with that information what you will. We are ignoring male penis detachment cause that is a lot even for me. But with that said, male spiders, in my opinion and if you know anything about how certain spiders have sex, should be really good at oral. To help this theory, Peter Parker 616 is not only canonically freaky but also fantastic at oral. Another one, purring. Some spiders purr during and before sex to attract a mate(it’s different than cat purring) but because spider people are largerly mammals I think they still purr when content(like a cat) and during sex but it’s two different types of purrs. Finally, back to the pheromones, those are mostly used by female spiders for sexual purposes on males, which could be translated over to spider people in a couple of different ways. But either way you go, feel free to interpret all the spidery behaviors however you see fit!

[poge-life]

Please Please Please ~ R. Cameron

You had heard all about Rafe Cameron when you moved to the OBX; his anger and drug issues along with his mommy and daddy issues on top of his hatred for anyone who didn’t live on Figure 8. But you didn’t care. He had never done you wrong and he was good looking, so what did you have to lose?

 As long as he didn’t embarrass you. 

You had been out with some girlfriends from college who were visiting and wanted to see your new man you had been telling them about. But as soon as you told them who it was, they weren’t so keen on the idea. They knew exactly who Rafe Cameron was; son of the richest man in the OBX and heir to Cameron enterprise. But they also knew what kind of guy he was and he was the opposite of the guys you usually went for. 

“i know i have good judgement and i have good taste,” you spoke, playing with the straw in your drink, “why else would i be with him?”

but it’s funny and ironic that you only felt that way.

Just in the middle of telling them he wasn’t like what they had heard, you got a phone call. From Kildare County Police.

Saying Rafe had gotten arrested.

With a sigh, you told your friends something had come up and you chose to ignore the looks they all shared with each other before grabbing your purse and leaving. Rafe had let you borrow one of his many cars for the night and you knew if he kept up this behavior for much longer, your time with his cars was coming to an end.

Sitting on the hood of his car, you waited for them to bring him out after paying his bail. 

With his credit card of course.

Rafe slowly walked over to you, his suit jacket thrown over his shoulder as his eyes raked over you; starting at your shoes.

“Those the ones I bought, baby?” He asked, stopping with just a few inches between the two of you. Pulling your sunglasses down the bridge of your nose, you glanced up at him through your freshly coated lashes, “Mhm. Today actually.”

Rafe just raised his eyebrow at you as you slid off the hood of the car, handing him the keys, “don’t embarrass me again, motherfucker.”

Rafe had decided for some reason to bring you along to one of his business deals, for why? You had no idea. Walking into a diner with your hand tucked tightly into Rafe’s, he nodded his head at the guy standing behind the counter as he led you through the kitchen door. Stumbling in your heels, you quickly looked over your shoulder before facing forward as your boyfriend stepped into a room where three sketchy looking guys were sitting behind a table, counting money.

“Country club!” 

Rafe was a stand up guy and you prayed to god whatever devil was inside that he didn’t let him out tonight.

You should have expected it to end like this; Rafe and two out of the three guys getting into a fight as the one who called Rafe ‘Country Club’ introduced himself as Barry and said Rafe owed him money as the last time he did a deal for him, he ended up in jail. Rafe held his own, as he always does and the after was always his favorite part.

The aftercare. 

No matter how many fights he got into, you were always there to clean him up. Sometimes you wondered if he did it on purpose just because you took care of him.

Tears in your eyes as you realized your fears about Rafe were coming true, you held his chin in your hand as you dabbed at the cut with a q-tip. Rafe had been quiet the entire time and he knew he fucked up as soon as he brought you to tears just after you did your makeup so nice for him. He somehow kept finding ways to fuck up your relationship lately. You didn’t ask for much, hell, you barely asked for anything.

You only had one rule.

‘Don’t embarrass me’

That was the only thing you had said to him when he asked you to be his girlfriend. He knew you didn’t take lightly from being embarrassed; he learned that when you broke up with your ex at midsummers your senior year of high school because he got shit faced and knocked over a waiter.

‘Heartbreak was one thing. my ego is another’ words you had said to him on multiple occasions. You could handle heart break but you couldn’t deal with another guy bruising your ego.

He promised you he wasn’t anything like the guys you had been with before and yet, here he was. Embarrassing you and making you cry. 

“I beg you,” you took a deep breath, tightening your grip on his chin, “don’t embarrass me, motherfucker.”

You knew Rafe was craving fresh air and it was only a matter of time before Barry had a new job for him.They both had been laying low since Rafe’s arrest. The police had been sniffing around for Barry but every lead they had, always turned up cold.

You were so close to just locking Rafe away in your house at this point so people wouldn’t know you two were together. Here you were again, in a situation where he’s embarrassing you, again. 

He brought you with him on a job from Barry and had you known what this job was going to entail, you definitely would have stayed home. Barry had Rafe rob from his own dad’s company. It was a stupid fucking idea and you just wanted the floor to open and swallow you whole. 

“Rafe, this isn’t a good idea.” You whispered to him as both watched his dads assistant fill the black bag with the money from the safe, “You're essentially robbing yourself! How the fuck do you expect your dad to ever trust you with the company when you’re doing shit like this.”

“It’s just this one time, baby.” Rafe called over his shoulder, sending you a wink

“I’m about to lock you up in your room. You have a ceiling fan that's just so nice.” You mumbled, “You and I could live so happily if no one knew you were with me. I’m just kidding.”

No, you weren’t.

Here you were, once again paying Rafe’s bail after he got arrested for robbing his dad. Did he really not think his dads assistant wasn’t going to call Ward as soon as the two of you left. Ward had told you he wasn’t going to have you arrested or press charges because he knew you wanted nothing to do with the robbery. Ward knew your patience was starting to wear thin with his son and only hoped Rafe was going to get his shit together soon.

Rafe looked defeated as he walked up to the car, watching you with sad eyes as you slid off the hood, barely giving him the time of day as he held your door open. You rolled your eyes as he shut the door, knowing Rafe was going to be doing a whole lot of sucking up the next couple of days, if not weeks.

Sitting on the couch outside Tannyhill, you watched as Rafe sat before you, hands behind his head as you sat there thinking about what you were going to do with him. He had a smug look on his face, one that drove you nuts. It’s what made you fall for him in the first place. 

Pulling out a pair of cuffs, Rafe raised his eyebrows as you sauntered over to him before sitting in his lap. Wrapping your arms around his neck, Rafe placed his hands on your hips, giving them a squeeze, “Whatchu got those for, baby?”

You let the cuffs dangle from your fingertips as you wrapped one hand in his hair, giving it a tug, “I asked one thing, baby. Don’t embarrass me. And time and time again. You’ve embarrassed me. I don’t ask for much. Never have this entire time we’ve been together.”

“I don’t do it on purpose, you know that,” Rafe said, “I’m trying to make myself better for you. So I can stop embarrassing you. I don’t know how I keep getting myself into these situations.”

You shushed him, brushing your lips over his, “It’s okay. Just don’t make me hate you prolifically.”

Pressing your lips against his, he didn’t realize you had grabbed both of his arms and put them behind the chair and somehow managed to get the cuffs around both of his wrists. It wasn’t until he went to touch you again did he figure out you had cuffed him to the chair. Pulling away, you brushed your thumb over his lips, wiping your lipstick  off his face. You gave him a smile, getting off his lap before walking around him to grab the duct tape off the table.

Ripping off a piece, you walked around him and placed it on his mouth, ignoring his protests as he yanked out of cuffs. Leaning down, you placed a kiss on his mouth over the tape, leaving a mark on it before walking back into the house, “Shouldn’t have embarrassed me, mother fucker!”

[magnetic-maverick]

The Second Time: Dr Horrible's Sing-Along Blog Fanfic (RandySlashToons)

Slash, non-con/dub-con

“Well, well, well, if this isn't my old buddy...”

Billy's remark took Moist away from his phone and coffee. He looked at his roommate, puzzled by an odd tenderness in Billy's words, a cadence clearly missing from his voice in the last five years since that... well, that day when Death Ray misfired. Any warmth felt somewhat out of character for red-coated Dr. Horrible, the most feared super villain of the E.L.E. in recent history. But one look at his friend turned these warm notes on their heads (did notes even have heads, thought Moist for a second), as Billy was sitting on a couch with his laptop, lazily dressed in a t-shirt and faded sweatpants, yet even without his formal villain getup managed to look more sinister than ever. He was smirking at some news website, his eyes like cold glistening shards of ice, hands clutching the laptop, so what sounded at first like genuine joy now struck Moist as borderline psychotic.

Those borders were probably crossed long ago, though, thought Moist.

“What is it?” said Moist.

“Captain Motherfucking Hammer, my friend,” replied Billy, still not taking his eyes off the screen. “The city issued an official press release stating Captain is coming back to his duties as our savior. What a perfect timing, don't you think?”

“So he's, what, out of therapy?”

“It appears so. Hammer's back and supposedly ready for action. Didn't lose all the weight he gained in last years, though. But we have to admit, he doesn't look like a bloated walrus anymore, just like a regular one.”

The grainy surveillance photo taken around eighteen months ago served as a new dartboard in their apartment. Captain was caught on camera sneaking into grocery store, baseball cap and sunglasses not really concealing the identity of who was once the city's most praised protector. This black and white still captured Hammer stupidly looking up directly at camera, unmistakable behind big shades, but hardly his former hunky self. Captain was huge, not morbidly enough obese, if you asked Billy, but still a pile of chins atop one clumsy, slow, sad memory of former buff self.

“The press release has his old publicity shot attached to it,” chuckled Moist, browsing the news on his phone. “Tabloids are already making fun of him, someone from E.L.E. leaked Cap's actual pics.”

“Well, someone must have glued the guy to the treadmill after all, there are photos from a press conference, and I hate to say it, but you can almost see Captain Hammer somewhere inside the fat suit he's become. Oh, what wonders science performs.”

“It's not much of a science to gag him and weld the fridge, really.”

“I can sooo see the mayor giving this order! 'Gag him and weld his fridge until our city gets back the hero it deserves!' Captain Fat Douche to the rescue!” laughed Billy a little too heartily, sending shivers down Moist's spine.

Moist knew this was what made his roommate such an unstoppable villain, but he couldn't help but wish Billy had a therapy session every once in a while, or at the very least talked to him about anything besides his nefarious plans. Being aspiring villains used to be fun, but not since Billy swapped his white lab coat for a red one. Although, come to think of it, now Billy finally changed the subject, and it felt even creepier, so maybe he was better off brooding and not sharing thoughts with his friend. As much as Moist wanted to help Billy, he was also scared of what may lurk beneath this recent supervillain persona: supervillains were fine, but emotionally twisted, traumatized nerds underneath those could be too much for Moist to handle. He was not a therapist, just a guy who makes things soggy and happens to share an apartment with the world's most renowned evil doctor, after all.

Furthermore, one broken hearted nerd supervillain AND one wrecked back-from-the-therapist's-couch jock vigilante was most definitely more than Moist has ever signed up for.

“So, where is my webcam?” said Billy, breaking Moist's train of thought.

“In 2009, I guess. Because, you know, iPhone?”

“Look who's snarky. Fine, to hell with nostalgia, I'll record a welcome back video with my phone, just need to somehow not make it look like Instagram selfie. Or do I post that short looped video on Vine? Nah, that's just ridiculous. Oh, I'm so inviting Captain to tonight's operation. I have just the welcoming gift for him.”

Moist looked at what Billy nodded at and saw a ball full of purple liquid casually laying on a coffee table. And for the first time in years he suddenly heard Billy utter his best maniacal laugh.

* * *

Once great at deceiving himself and averting his eyes from inconvenient truths, now Captain Hammer could not fool himself into thinking he'd look good on his motorcycle or, moreover, in the Hamjet. He wasn't even sure the Hamjet was still able to fly with him on board, but was too ashamed to check. He lost weight all right, but self-loathing, uncertainty and that constant dash of hunger he gained in previous five years were not that easy to leave behind, and, most importantly, so was fear. That girl, who was hit by shards of Death Ray, it was tragic and all, but what kept Captain's therapist busy was the fact that on that day his patient felt vulnerable for the first time – and that one time was, apparently, enough to break the seemingly solid shell around Captain Hammer's insecurities.

Well, at least that was what Captain kept saying at his sessions.

So Captain was driving his SUV, which surely fit his stature the most these days, reviewing the details in Dr. Horrible's latest blog entry.

“...and so, Captain, I'll be waiting for you at the charity auction, and be sure I'll come prepared,” said Dr. Horrible once again as the clip played back on the loop. “Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

Hammer grinned, getting his villain-fighting groove back, or at least trying to tell himself that, and tried to remember those days when he was on top of the crime-fighting game. That felt like another life now, hidden behind years of fear and self-loathing, indulging himself in comfort food to quiet his anxieties, gaining weight and loathing himself even more. At first he thought he'd take a short break from heroics, but than the break suddenly spanned years, when Captain Hammer became just another unemployed guy next door. He was living off the rewards received during his vigilante career, which sufficed for his now more than modest lifestyle, only big expense being the occasional therapy session. At times he had the consulting gig for a bank or a gallery, but slowly the bar fell lower to the level of mall security – well, that payed the bills, anyway.

The bedroom Captain was always so proud of turned lonely, only seeing an occasional groupie hookup every once in a while, and even those were becoming rare and somewhat uninspired. Sturdy bed, custom-made for superpowered ladies man, now stood empty, as its owner mostly slept on the couch, lulled to sleep by Netflix marathon, in his oversized t-shirt and boxers, and not naked on red silk sheets under blinding white faux fur blanket. One sleepless night he took off his underwear and crawled under the soft welcoming furs, only to feel grossly out of place and get back to the couch. The mirror ball stopped spinning long ago, handcuffs dangled idly from the headboard, and the drawer with toys, lubes and harnesses stood undisturbed – but tissues were resupplied regularly, since when Netflix failed to soothe Captain, he had to seek help from Redtube.

“Oh, Captain, my Captain...” began Dr. Horrible again, more sarcastic than ever.

Okay, he was the Captain, and he was going back no matter what. He parked his car next to the mansion that held an auction and went in, hastily suppressing his shame of being the only fat guy in a t-shirt among these people in tailored tuxes and cocktail dresses and one fleeting thought that this slob of a man will be what meets Doctor Horrible for the first time in years. He wasn't fat anymore, come on, get over it. And what of Billy seeing him like this. That is, Doctor. Doctor Horrible. Oh, and here go the scared tuxes and dresses, running from bright flashes of light that engulfed the mansion. Right on time, then.

* * *

It happened a few months after the Death Ray incident.

Captain was at his therapist's office, which he has been visiting for quite some time now without much effect. He was whining about these newly found ideas of pain and defeat, fresh concepts introduced to him by one Doctor, the man who was, apparently, haunting Captain's dreams – nightmares, Captain corrected himself hastily. This slip might have caught therapist's attention, but at this point he had already learned to filter out Captain's constant complaints, and had written “Whiny bitch” in his pad, cursing himself for being so unprofessional, but unable to come up with a better diagnosis for the guy who was all talk and no progress.

Hammer's rant went on and on, carefully positioning Captain at the center of the Universe, the first person to ever experience humiliation and either barely able to grasp such a bizarre idea or really desperate to go through this experience once again. He closed his eyes visualizing the source of his unease, as doctor suggested, but it only brought back all the confusing feelings and made Hammer's ears burn red, so Captain repeated again his go-to story of Death Ray and defeat – but no response came.

Captain Hammer opened his eyes and froze in shock on the couch. His bespectacled old therapist laid frozen on the floor, grimace of disgust on his face, and in his armchair there was the person Captain has just hastily unvisualized – red lab coat, goggles, gloves and a glowing gun in his hand.

“So, you're feeling vulnerable, is that right?” said Dr. Horrible calmly with a faint smile on his face.

Captain was at a loss for words, eyes fixed at a blue spark ready to emit from Doctor Horrible's sleek new handgun.

“I hope you were not making any progress here, since I thought we could make your situation somewhat more sour today. You see, it came to me that there's one more line of defense I didn't breach, and as much as I'm repulsed by the idea, you'll have it so much worse, so, naturally, I can't resist. But enough monologues.”

Before Captain managed to utter a single squeak, Doctor pointed his gun at him and zapped Captain with a bright ray of energy. Captain Hammer was expecting his death at the moment, but what came was even scarier. His whole body went numb for a second, and then he felt all his limbs again, but wasn't able to move a muscle. He laid on the couch terrified, only slightly turning his head, barely able to move his lips – yet no sound came out – and able to close his eyes but too scared to do so.

“Don't worry, we're alone in the whole building,” said Doctor Horrible, sitting down next to paralyzed Captain. “We can keep it all between us. You like cherries, don't you?”

Doctor pulled a small bottle from his pocket and brought it to Captain's nose. Captain's wildest nightmares, the ones he woke up from both in cold sweat and sticky jizz, were coming to life. Now they smelled of fake cherries and Doctor Horrible's aftershave, his nemesis leaning closer to have a better look at Hammer's petrified grimace. He felt Doctor's heavy rubber glove on his neck, squeezing a little, then Doctor gave him a broad smile, loosened his grip and turned Captain's face directly at himself. Doctor looked him in the eyes and leaned even closer, so suddenly Captain felt his foe's lips on his own. The touch was oddly careful and tender, and Doctor's lips felt soft and gentle against Captain's. One gloved hand held Captain's head in place, while the other slowly stroked his body, and what Captain only heard was the thumping of his racing heart.

“Oh please, don't get into it, really,” said Doctor, finally breaking the kiss.

Captain opened his eyes, only then realizing he has closed them when Doctor kissed him.

“I mean, I planned this more as a mind fuck, than actual, you know, fuck – don't you worry, though, you're getting your butt stuffed anyway – and you, what, wanted this all along? To be fair, it's hard to read people, even as dumb as you are, when they can only move their eyes, but seriously, you liked me kissing you. Who even makes couches so small, gosh,” said Doctor, laying down next to Captain, one leg thrown over him and one arm resting on Hammer's chest. He was speaking directly in Captain's ear now. “But come to think of it, maybe you'll just enjoy this more than you've ever thought you would, and that will send you down a spiral of self-doubt! That would be fun, right? One blink for yes.”

Captain blinked twice.

“That's denial talking,” whispered Doctor, his lips lightly brushing Captain's ear.

Unable to even flinch, Captain felt Doctor's glove sliding into his pants, slowly sneaking into his boxers and resting on his most prized possessions.

“Can you even get it up these days?” asked Doctor. “Don't bother blinking, I can feel you're loving this.”

In a moment Doctor got off the couch and pulled Captain Hammer's pants down. Wet glove slid between his legs, going further down, reaching for Captain's rear entrance, and in no time he felt a finger thrusting into his tightly clenched hole. It barely hurt the superhero, but the humiliating idea of him playing a fucking life-sized cherry-scented sex doll for his arch-enemy was too much for Captain to handle – and even less so was the anticipation building deep inside him. It seemed like Doctor knew his way with dolls, deliberate moves stretching Captain's hole, and now Doctor turned him on his side in one swift move, as cold sweat covered Captain's forehead.

“Oh, just so you know, I don't do it for any badges or the League. Think of it as a payback. Or a date, if you like,” said Doctor, unzipping his pants. “Time to nail the hammer.”

* * *

There wasn't much left of the mansion's lush interiors now. Doctor Horrible was giving Captain Hammer a really tough time, ray-guns blazing and balls of some weird purple goo flying around, but nothing a few well-timed dives and human shields couldn't help with. Captain was getting closer to his enemy, feeling better about himself with every instant, his bravado returning after years of absence, when one of the balls finally hit him. The purple goo spilled all over Captain Hammer, holding him in place stronger with every Captain's move. Hammer felt it burn like a whole lot of jellyfish when the goo touched his bare skin, and now the room around him was slowly spinning and getting brighter, flashes of day-glo surrounding him. Day-glo was not a good sign.

Captain Hammer fell on his knees unable to stand straight in the middle of spinning room, when he heard someone coming at him from behind, and in an instant Captain was put in a chokehold, tied by purple tentacles and unable to resist.

“Hello, chunky,” said Doctor's voice right above Captain's ear as a grip on his throat tightened. “I see you were going to march in victorious, saving the day and such, but oh well.” The room stopped spinning, but now Captain started shrinking against Doctor, who grew into a giant all of a sudden. “It's not how it works these days, you see. You don't march in unless I let you. And I don't let anyone do that.”

Doctor's voice was now a sound of thunder booming from the sky above tiny Captain.

“I wonder what nightmares you experience now. I just thought the toxins in this nice purple stuff will help me drive the point home, the point being you are my bitch now, Captain. Have been for a long time.”

Captain felt every word crawling under his skin, body growing weak and pants suddenly being too tight, heat rising inside of him and strands of purple wrapping around him even stronger, but still not as strong as Doctor's hands around his throat.

“Well, it was lovely to meet you again. You can hand all this stuff to the mayor, or whatever, I don't really need it. I just wanted to make sure you'd come to see me, Captain. Think of it as my way of taking you someplace fancy, okay. See you.”

Captain felt air coming through into his lungs, took a deep breath and gladly saw everything around him starting to turn its natural boring colors, his sticky skin not burning so badly anymore. Doctor's voice still echoed in his head, when he finally managed to get up and get out of mansion into the sea of flashing cameras, smiling at another day saved, but dizzy and barely there. He needed to go home, now, to the secret place where he was safe from outside world till this day.

* * *

Captain's place was even cheesier than Doctor imagined.

Doctor's been looking for Captain Hammer's hideout for quite some time with zero results. Captain might have let himself go from a hero to a slob, but he still knew how to keep his place private. But now a little help from Time Science Blood Cloud, who hacked a military satellite, let Doctor trace any specific radiation signatures, so the tiniest amount of thorium was a perfect ingredient for the purple goo. As Captain fled the scene covered in drying purple remnants, there was no place for him to go other than home, and the whole route from the wrecked mansion and right to Captain's shower was transmitted from the satellite to Doctor's phone.

“Good luck washing my goo off your hair,” mumbled Doctor, walking into the apartment, when Captain ran into the bathroom. “That didn't come out right.”

He was standing in a dimly lit living room, a messy place with clothes, magazines and a couple of empty takeout boxes scattered around. A nearly full bottle of vodka was sitting on a coffee table, and after a second of hesitation Doctor grabbed it and took a large swig. “Oh, now this is just cute,” said Doctor, noticing a tissue box on the floor. “Crying, or jerking off, or hopefully both.”

He listened closely to the sounds coming from the bathroom. Was that sobbing? He sure hoped it was.

“Man, I knew you had a bad taste, but this?”

Doctor walked around Captain's bedroom, a much cleaner place than his living room with a slight air of being abandoned. Red sheets, fur, candles and handcuffs, everything looked untouched for a long time.

“This is ridiculous. It's not a bedroom, it's a damn porn set, and not even a good one,” Doctor looked around and saw a tripod standing idly in a corner. “Well, naturally.”

A shadow crossed Doctor's mind, but before he could even realize what it was, he got distracted by the sounds coming from the bathroom. Steady noise of running water was now accompanied by what seemed like moans and heavy breathing. Doctor grinned and made himself comfortable in one of Captain's armchairs with his new friend, vodka. “So, crying, or jerking off?” In a minute moaning got louder, and it definitely didn't sound like Captain was sobbing in the shower.

“Billy!” Captain's voice was muffled, but there was no doubt he said Doctor's name.

“Huh.”

Doctor Horrible didn't expect Captain to take the title of Doctor's bitch so literally and with such enthusiasm. In a minute the bathroom door opened, and Captain entered the room in clouds of steam, a towel quickly wrapped around his thighs for lack of a waist at the moment. There wasn't even that much of a belly hanging on top of it, though, to Doctor's surprise.

“Isn't this a lovely view.”

Doctor Horrible chuckled at Captain's confused face as he was blinded by the phone's camera flash.

“Don't look so stunned, I didn't shoot you yet, Captain. Come take a sit, let's have a nice chat like civilized men, without neurotoxins or throwing cars at each other, what do you think?”

Captain walked slowly to the couch and took a seat, trying to not take his eyes off Doctor. The mixture of shame, anxiety and excruciating anticipation overwhelmed him as he sat in front of his nemesis, painfully aware of a damp towel barely covering only his crotch, exposed and most likely disgusting.

Doctor tried hard to keep a straight face and not ogle Captain's naked body, sad, ridiculous, yet oddly comforting in its softness. This guy really let himself go, and whatever torture he was put through to get back in shape didn't quite work, leaving just enough to please Doctor Horrible's desire to see his arch-enemy turn into a mockery of himself. The man could probably still throw a car at Doctor, only now it would come at a price of a heart attack and a ripped pair of pants. And still there was something more to the man sitting uncomfortably in front of Doctor, a hint at another life, when he was still Billy, a beaten up nerd with a dream and not an actual supervillain, which turned out way less fun. There was once a dream, a nemesis to destroy, a friend and a girl, however fleeting her presence was, and now with great power came a job, a friend who avoided him lately, a broken heart and not a single chance to overthrow the system – Doctor was now a part of it, a cog in the machine routinely balancing crime and justice. So, yeah, this was his past sitting in front of him, his pathetic, fat and scared wreck of a past he wasn't able to admit he missed.

Doctor Horrible suddenly realized he was sitting silent all this time, basking in shadenfreude and staring at Captain with misty eyes from the shadow.

“You know, I missed you.”

Fuck, did he just say it sincerely? It was meant to be menacing when he thought of breaking the silence, and also wasn't going to sound so slurred. Did he get drunk already?

“I mean, it would be so much more fun with you around, all fat and traumatized. It's curious how tables turn sometimes, don't you think?”

“Why are you here?”

“I said I miss you! Wanna drink?” Doctor offered a bottle to Captain. He stalled for a moment, then grabbed it and took a gulp. “Can't I just come to see my old buddy, to make sure he's still a wimpy douchebag with an overblown ego who can't take a punch, yet is so eager to give them? Maybe I just want to hang out and keep you company for awhile as you descend deeper into obesity and irrelevance? It's what friends do, come on.”

“I didn't know you were now everyone's darling superstar, Doctor”, said Captain, looking more confident now that he had a bottle of booze in his hand. “Oh wait, you're not. So, what were you saying about tables, again?”

“I'm not a fame whore that you once were, Captain. I'm fine alone.”

“And yet, here you are.”

“Don't fatter... ha... flatter yourself, Captain Hammer!” This exchange started to annoy Doctor.

“Don't fool yourself, Doctor.” Captain kept his voice calm, but his cheeks were blushing now and eyes sparkled more with every drink he took from the bottle. “The city loved me. Women loved me. A lot of men loved me, too, if Tumblr is any indication. But nobody ever liked you, Doctor. Not even those girls who drew porn with me and supervillains, they didn't care about you either, and they drew me doing it with everyone. And I mean, everyone. You barely registered then, and you barely register now.”

“You know shit about me, Captain Tightpants. Captain No Pants. Ha.”

“I know enough, Doctor. You're an average nerd a dime a dozen who can't speak to girls and invents stuff that doesn't work, but you're hellbent on turning yourself into a supervillain, only having seen supervillains in Saturday morning cartoons, and you can't get over a girl who slept with me and not you.”

Doctor froze in his place, clenching fists and breathing heavily, squinting at Captain who only seemed more satisfied with every word that got under Doctor's skin. Was this fucker asking for a fight? Doctor's obvious lack of strength and muscles didn't bother him now thanks to alcohol, and Captain Hammer's face looked more and more punchable.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” chuckled Captain. “Me and your girlfriend, we made a movie that night. Well, she wasn't aware of it, but she gave a delightful performance on top of me. Wanna hear her scream my name along God's? It's short... I mean... Not that I...”

Doctor jumped from the armchair, face burning red, and aimed a fist at Captain's mocking smile, only to have it caught in his enemy's large hand and find himself placed in one move flat on a couch, a t-shirt falling from its back on Doctor's face to complete this humiliating manoeuvre. Captain's hand on his chest held him firmly in place, legs thrown over Hammer's. His other hand rested on Doc's inner thigh, and a t-shirt smelled of stale sweat and something nasty Doctor couldn't quite figure out, yet now he didn't want to make any other move or leave this degrading position. Just a couple hours before he held his nemesis in his hands, scared shitless and tripping balls on neurotoxins, and now what? The tables did indeed turn in mysterious ways.

“You know what?” said Doctor from under a t-shirt, voice suddenly shaking. “I think you've really worked hard to earn these last five years, and your efforts finally paid off handsomely. You did so much to achieve all this. Your morbid obesity, loneliness, your pathetic attempts to boost your ego at my expense, and nobody but a bunch of homemade sex tapes to keep you company. You deserve all this, Captain Jerk-Off, congratulations.”

“Didn't you just describe yourself, Doc? Only, like, fat? Oh, and this stings so badly coming from a loser homicidal psychopath, a joke even for his fellow villains, a nobody who has nobody, a sloppy drunk and, last but not least, a guy who raped me to make a point.”

“And you enjoyed every minute of it!”

Doctor felt Captain moving on the couch, placing himself on top of him. He didn't care if Hammer was going to smother him or beat into a bloody mess. Who gives a fuck anyway.

“Just like you seem to enjoy having my old cum-drenched t-shirt all over your face.”

Doctor Horrible hastily threw it on the floor and saw Captain's face a few inches above his.

“Get off me.”

“No way.”

“The hell do you want? Revenge? Break my neck and don't waste my time.”

“No. It's you I want, little buddy. All to myself. I don't like sharing, you see. Couldn't let you settle with that girl that time. Ever wondered why no other superhero bothered to fight you? I always told them you're mine. I didn't even realize this until some time ago. I blame my therapist, really. It was easier just getting my hands on you without understanding that I want to get my hands on you. And your hands on my hammer.” Captain leaned closer and whispered into Doctor Horrible's ear. “And yes, Billy, I love cherries.”

“There's no Billy anymore.”

“Well, it's worth taking a look, maybe you're just hiding him somewhere.”

Doctor laid there petrified and barely able to grasp what's going on. Proverbial tables turned, spun a little, hit him on the head and flew away in a flock, leaving him seriously confused. As tables gracefully soared into the setting sun, Captain was undoing the buttons on his lab coat.

“How sweet,” smiled Captain, as he revealed a well-worn t-shirt with a yellow hammer logo under Doctor's red coat.

“Laundry day,” grumbled Doctor Horrible.

Captain's large hand slipped under Doctor's t-shirt.

“Missing a human touch for some time now, are we?”

“I hate you. You're an asshole,” said Doctor trying to suppress his whole body shivering.

“Then use me like one. They say it's better the second time.”

* * *

Nothing made any sense anymore, as Doctor laid on a couch, suddenly feeling his lips part, welcoming Captain's kiss, and his tongue eagerly entwine with the Captain's. Hammer's tongue was very deliberate in entering Doctor's mouth, rough and hungry, and his hand was exploring Doctor's body under that damn t-shirt, generously stroking his skin, caressing his chest and playing with nipples. Doctor was pretty sure his erection has never felt so painful, ready to release any moment.

As Captain broke the kiss, Doctor instinctively raised his head, following the other man's mouth, but had a finger seal his lips.

“We shall get back to that in a moment, Doc. Now, there's other business to attend to.”

Captain started hastily pulling off Doctor's clothes, t-shirt and lab coat the first to go, then he pulled off his boots and unzipped his pants. Horrible's tightie whities barely managed to hold his hard-on in place, and Doctor made a loud gasp as Captain laid his hand on a bulge, slowly rubbing it. One stronger stroke, and he pulled down Doctor's underwear, revealing his cock leaking onto the stomach.

“Man, a nice mess you got here,” said Captain, running his fingers up and down Horrible's shaft, balls and pubes damp with pre-cum. “Let's take a peek at the head, now shall we.”

Captain's fingers gently held Doctor's cock and slowly pulled back his uncut foreskin. This move was too much for Doctor to handle, as he felt his abs clench, balls tighten and a thick spurt of semen rush from his penis, splattering all over his body. The first one was followed by a few more, less strong but still making a puddle of hot jizz on his stomach. He didn't even manage a scream and just breathed heavily, his chest heaving and mouth agape, face burning red with shame and arousal. He was afraid to open his eyes.

“Damn, that was quick. And hot,” said Captain's voice.

Doctor looked at Captain with one eye. Hammer was kneeling between his legs on the couch, smoldering look on his face, and towel gone, revealing his throbbing erection.

“Go on, Captain, I know you want to,” said Doctor, his voice hoarse from panting. He stretched on the couch, placing his arms behind his head, and looked Captain directly in the eye.

Captain put his left hand behind him and arched forward as he stuck a thumb in his ass, thrusting hard into his clenched fist. He kept stroking his dick and pushing fingers deeper inside to rub a prostate. Eyes fixed on Doctor's blushing face, he felt the approaching orgasm in his whole body, and his movements lost their rhythm, harder strokes on his penis bringing him sooner release. Captain's whole body tightened and with a long moan he spilled his cum on Doctor's stomach. Breathing loudly, he collapsed on top of him, spreading sticky puddle of semen all over their bodies.

Everything that just happened seemed completely wrong to Doctor, yet he couldn't help but feel satisfied and, of all things, relaxed and secure, lying here covered in cum under the weight of his supposedly still arch-nemesis. There was a dash of self-deprecation somewhere below all this, but Doctor was genuinely surprised how simply good it felt right now. His sober and drunk self suddenly changed their parts, and now his drunk self, who felt used, spent and humiliated, was giving up to the sober part of his brain, however small, telling him to go for it and have some messy fun. He'll kill the guy later, if there's a problem, no big deal.

Captain silently sat up and grabbed his old t-shirt from the floor. He carefully wiped Doctor's body clean with it and then cleaned his chest and stomach as well. He dropped it back on a floor and stood up. He then took Doctor in his arms and, still silent, carried him to the bedroom. Doctor felt Captain's heart beating rapidly and chest heaving with heavy breathing. In a moment they were both in a spacious Captain's bed, under his ridiculous fur blanket, warm and quiet. The blanket felt really nice, though, thought Doctor.

Captain Hammer turned to Doctor and wrapped him in his arms, smiling.

“Keep in mind, I can still break all you limbs and crush your windpipe in a matter of seconds.”

“I've never heard a sweeter thing.”

“Shut up and let me finish. But you should not be afraid of anyone if you're still mine. Anyone looks at you funny, I'll rip their heads off. You're my nemesis, and nobody messes with my pronounced enemies. Especially little cute ones. As long as they don't leave me.”

“Are you saying we should give up our lives of crime and crime-fighting and engage in an abusive relationship?”

“Pretty much. Is there a problem?”

“None at all. Have you always been so cuddly? I wasted years not knowing it,” Doctor moved closer, holding tight onto Captain's huge body, one leg wrapped around his thigh. “Do you mind if I fuck you later, it's so warm here I'm all sleepy. And also please don't turn it into a trap and kill me while I sleep, okay?”

“Okay. I won't kill you, and you can fuck the hell out of me later.”

“Pinky promise?”

“Don't be ridiculous, dude.”

Now Doctor's persona has finally faded away, and it was Billy breathing into Captain's neck. He was smiling at the idea of Captain having his own army of porn-drawing fans, not grinning in an evil fashion, but just being genuinely amused by the fact.

“Oh, I need to ask one thing. Like, really badly. Your fans drew porn with you and every supervillain ever, right? So... Bad Horse?”

“You have no idea.”

Captain smiled back at Billy.

[joyful-soul-collector]

The Two Faces Of January

Whatever my reactions are to this, blame @raven-rk they told me to watch it. Also if anyone wants to send me recs of oscar isaac movies to watch (or any movies?? you want my gay ass to react to??) go ahead and suggest em, I'm all ears. You too, can be responsible for an unhinged reaction post

All I know about this movie is the one sentence description on HBO MAX and that Oscar Isaac is in it let's GO motherfuckers

Oop there he is

Oh look its Aragorn

Everything Oscar is wearing rn? slut behavior

OH HIS SMILE IS SO CUTE LOOK AT HIM

Rydal is a cool name, stealing that

Oh he's a sneaky little man

I wish smoking weren't so bad for you, it's so damn aesthetic

Idk why Chester doesn't trust him, I mean he doesn't even know Rydal scammed him with that bracelet

Wait does he not trust him cuz he's a person of color. Is this mf just straight up racist. I wouldn't be surprised but still lol cmon bro

Who's this rando

Nice of him to try and return the bracelet he scammed em with lol

Oh shit we fightin'

Oh damn did he kill him?

Oh fuck yeah he ded

Oof, dad passed away only a MONTH ago? Poor guy

Is anyone gonna tell Colette what the hell is goin' on

KITTY

Love this guy scamming rich people, you go Rydal

KITTY

I enjoy the aesthetic of this movie a lot, lots of yellows and browns, makes the cooler colors pop well

Cool that he knows so many languages! I like Rydal so far, he's interesting

Oop Chester is d r o n k

Hope Chester doesn't still remind him of his dad, cuz then his dad would be an asshole...

Oh the intimacy of sharing a cigarette... Again, really wish it weren't so bad for you

I've said it once and I'll say it a million times over: men are always prettiest when they're a bit disheveled

RYDAL IS SO SWEET LOOK AT HIM HELPING THIS WOMAN OUT OF THE BUS

Oop he knooooows

God that bus is fuckin banger, I wanna turn that into a mobile home

Chester you mf, blackmailing Rydal like this

Oh Colette is adorable

Also Rydal's hair rn... Slut shit. Whore behavior

Rydal you sweetheart, standing up for Collette like that

OH THIS IS THAT MOMENT WHERE EVERYONE SAYS HE LOOKS LIKE JAKE LOCKLEY IN THE TANK TOP

I see it, 100%

Ok I hate Chester but his bedhead is 10/10

Jesus this guy has a real drinking problem

Oop Rydal to the rescue

Shiiiiit their pictures are in the paper

Why does this random kid think she can just take people's sunglasses???

HELL YEAH GET HIS ASS RYDAL

Oh they just walkin there huh

Love Zippo lighters, I can do a couple tricks with those, it's quite fun

BRUH WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU WHY'D YA DO THAT

OH SHIT FUCK SHIT IS SHE DEAD??

Ohhhhhhh no....

Wait is Rydal dead too? Did he fuckin kill Rydal? I thought he just knocked him out...

OH GOOD he's okay. He'll be pissed when he finds out about Colette tho

FUCK people saw Rydal leaving those ruins, they're gonna think he did it

Love it when people breathe smoke in the face of someone they hate, fuckin great. ONCE AGAIN, REALLY WISH CIGS DIDN'T KILL YOU

Hell yeah Rydal blackmail the shit outta him

OH SHIT MF ALMOST GOT THROWN OVERBOARD

SHIT fuck shit fuck they're looking for Rydal

Pfft hahaha he's like "if I get caught you're comin' down with me"

Oh damn he called him dad. Yeah his dad must've been right shit then

I forget airports didn't always have nine miles of security to get through

Called it, poor guy had a shit dad

Of COURSE Chester's out here like "forgive your dad everyone expects too much from dads, I hated my dad too"

Hell yeah get tf outta there Rydal

Aw dammit they got him. Hope he can get that confession he needs to be freed

Admit it, do it motherfucker

Ah shit he runnin

OH SHIT THEY SHOT HIM

Dammit I really hope he can get this fuckin confession outta him...

THANK YOU God the one good this Chester does in this whole movie

It's the breaking the cycleeeee, Chester hated HIS shit dad and Rydal hated HIS shit dad so now Chester's gonna be a not shit dad in his last moments mmmmmmmmm

Looks like he really does remind him of his dad in the end. And he went to his funeral in return for the confession

Interesting that he buried the bracelet with Chester instead of Colette. Something something, the immortality of fatherhood and metaphors about breaking cycles and literally burying his previous life and crimes with a man who embodied everything he hated, something something

That was a good movie I quite liked it! Good foreshadowing with the "he reminds me of my dad" comment at the very beginning. Viggo plays a great bad guy. Featuring Slutty Oscar, drunk off his ass Viggo, and poor Kirsten who did not deserve any bad things to happen to her ever, and yet they did