#black men confessions

[lvrsdrk]

“Every man has a point where he simply does not care anymore. The frustrations have surmounted any and all hopes of reconciliation with his current self. As such, he reverts to his baser more instinctual nature. Firm. Ferocious. Feral.”

-eddiemustwrite

[cthulhuschild]

ZoSan Week: 40 years old

When you are in desperate need of more 40 y/o ZoSan and you realise you have the power of art.

[sassyscribe]

😏😈🫦💦

[fresherfriut]

[ella-error505]

Jesus is my virtue

And Judas is the demon I cling to I cling to

[zhivchik]

[agreyrose]

I’m sorry I just - he wants to WHAT? WHAT PEOPLE?? WHAT FEELINGS?? HE WANTS TO EXPERIENCE WHO??? OH MY GOD! WHAT IF I TOLD YOU IM GAY FATHER? WOULD GOD BELIEVE IN US THEN DO YOU THINK? IF ME AND THE ANGEL ARE GAY? IS GOD STILL REAL THEN? IS HE ONE OF THE GOOD GUYS? AM I? AM I JUST A MACHINE? OR COULD I SLOW DOWN AND OH MY GOD COULD I HAVE AN EASY LIFE? A SOFT LIFE EVEN? WHAT IF I WANT TO SETTLE DOWN WITH THE ANGEL? DIE OF OLD AGE INSTEAD OF IN A WAR OH MY GODDDD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD I FEEL INSANE

[free-grandmaa]

"I'd be content if you wanna lay and listen to the wind. I'd be content if you.."

[starcanwrecked-confessions]

I don't care for monsters and men tbh but the reprise is good

~~~

[super-hero-confessions]

[irlcinnagrl]

"princess" "queen" "babygirl" "dollface" anything is better than being called a bitch...please want better for yourself.

[ilovefredjones]

there seems to be an unused ration of… water? yes.

martin crimp, cyrano de bergerac / raoul walsh, captain horatio hornblower

[butcharyastark]

hhhh silver what the fuck did you dooooo

[sunofmoon]

.

[killerpancakeburger]

Thinking about a Reader who ends up having Scary Dog Privileges with Ghost without meaning to. It just happened.

Then they have to deal with the fact that this comes with duties too.

Tags: civilian!reader, gn!reader, mostly fluff, a bit suggestive, smug!Ghost, smooth!Ghost. 800 words.

Part 2. Part 3.

When Ghost is reluctant to getting sutured in Medical after accidentally opening his stitches, grumbling he can do it himself, who does the nurse call for? Yeah, you.

She could stand her ground, after all she's used to dealing with big, whiny men, but it's much more fun to knock on your door and smile at your bewildered gaze and gaping mouth when she explains the situation in two sentences.

"Ghost's being difficult, mind taking over?" "I'm sorry, what the hell does this have to do with me?" "C'm'on, everyone on base knows he's got a soft spot for you. Don't you want to make my job easier?"

You roll your eyes and slam your hands on your desk as you get up. Groaning as you walk past her— "I'm doing this for you, nothing else, got it?"

Mumbling to yourself "you've got to be kidding me" as you barge into the sick bay. Ghost is coolly seated at the end of a bed, large as life, casual clothes as black as his mask and— oh. You weren't told the wound was on his thigh— you weren't warned that he didn’t have pants on. You can’t help it, your eyes go down, down, your lingering gaze and your flustered silence forming a confession louder than words.

A noise — a scoff or a grunt, you’re not sure — emanates from him, breaks your trance, makes you look up. The amusement in his gaze tells you he noticed your oggling— of course he did. Nothing gets past the Ghost, and you've been remarkably unsubtle. Despite the mask, you swear you can make out the smug smirk on his lips. His cockiness reignites your irritation. Annoyance making you bolder than you really are, you charge at him, crossing the distance between you two in a stride, stopping close— too close. He doesn't back off.

"What's wrong with you?" you snarl. "Nothin'," he retorts, imperturbable.

It's actually the first time you’re overlooking him. You may be enjoying it a bit too much. Nevermind the fact that you've had to wedge yourself between his parted legs to get there.

You frown, unconvinced by his answer.

“Did Soap contaminate you?”

Bargaining to be cleared out earlier was the Scotsman's trademark.

“Johnny throws a fit cos he hates feeling useless. That's not what I'm doing.”

A smirk stretches your lips.

“Oh, no? I'm sure your reasons are much more noble.”

“Doesn't matter. Got what I wanted anyway.”

He's way too self-satisfied for a man in his underwear.

You throw an unequivocal look in the direction of his injury.

“What you wanted? A still open wound?”

“You.”

He replied without missing a beat, as confident as usual. It is both alluring and aggravating.

“And your idea of wooing me is making me upset?”

You don't add “because if it is, that's really fucking stupid” out loud, but you’re sure he got the message through your tone.

“Nah. But you're more honest when you’re angry. Gutsier.”

You only realize he slipped his index and middle fingers in your trouser loops when he sharply tugs at them. Off balance, you steady yourself by catching his shoulders.

Taking advantage of the strip of bare skin between your shirt and bottoms, the pads of his thumbs idly stroke your hip bones. The contact sends electricity through you, shivers of pleasure running down your sides.

“Ghost,” you start, severe, trying not to let the effect his touch has on you show in your voice.

“Simon,” he counters, surly. “Told ya it's Simon when we're alone, didn't I?”

He did, but you didn’t think he was serious. If that's what it takes to get him to listen… you’ll play by his rules.

“Simon. What's the rest of your brilliant plan? I'm here, but I can’t stitch you up.”

“How ‘bout a deal. I'll stop resisting… for a price.”

You raise an amused eyebrow.

“What kind of price?”

“A kiss.”

You snort. You didn’t believe him capable of something so… puerile.

“With the mask on?”

He doesn't move a muscle to get rid of it.

“Take it off.”

You usually wouldn’t obey what sounds like an order so easily, but it's the first time you get to touch the skull. Slipping two fingers between skin and cloth, you slowly roll up the mask all the way under his nose.

You gently trace the scars surrounding his lips. Then, the second you feel him relax, grip on your hips slackening and intensity of his gaze waning, you grab the bottom of his mask and drag it back down vigorously, making the holes for the eyes land way too low for him to see anything.

“If you thought you'd get a reward for acting out, you've got another think coming.”