#even if it's bad and it doesn't make any sense i needed it so badly i just miss them so much too

[stormyoceans]

i miss morkday 😔

YOU 🤝 ME MISSING THE SHIP FROM A SHOW THAT HASN'T EVEN AIRED YET AND THAT PROBABLY STILL WON'T UNTIL VERY LATE THIS YEAR

ANON YOU JUST GET ME!!!!!! maybe it's because there's no show currently grabbing me by the throat and making me experience vice versa levels of derangement, but these past few weeks I'VE BEEN MISSING MORKDAY SOOO MUCH LIKE IT'S HONESTLY INSANE JUST HOW MUCH I CAN MISS TWO CHARACTERS FROM A 4 MINUTES MOCK TRAILER. literally the only reason i care about the trailer reaching 1M views is because.. well, okay, it's also because jimmysea deserve it, but THE MAIN REASON is because im hoping it will give people the excuse to post some content about last twilight i mean we can't count on jimmysea BUT I KNOW P'AOF HAS BTS PICTURES AND CUT FOOTAGE SOMEWHERE IN HIS PHONE PLEASE I JUST NEED SOME NEWS SOME CONTENT ANYTHING

while we wait for that, though, let me share with you this small scenario i've been thinking of. i've mentioned it before, actually, so it's not exactly new, but i LOVE the idea of day hanging out in mork's garage while mork is working on some car, just the two of them talking and bickering about the silliest things. and i know that since the very beginning mork would be like 'if you're gonna stay here at least help me out' and use that as an excuse to make day touch all the tools he usually uses, describing them in details and teaching day their names and what they're for so he can ask day to hand them to him while he's working. at first day would probably tell him something like 'just take them yourself, im only gonna slow you down', but mork would reply that he is in no rush and patiently wait for day to find the right tool and pass it to him, until eventually it becomes a routine

the first time namtan's character shows up while day is there she almost does a double take because the place somehow looks so much brighter and livelier, and so does mork, which is why she takes exactly 0.2 seconds to clock into all the yearning happening there. she and day become fast friends and they usually just spend their time trying to embarrass mork as much as they can, until one day, after she's already left, mork's debt collectors show up. AND LOOK LISTEN maybe it's too dramatic and cliche, idk, but like!!!! the horror the desperation the fear the worry coming from both of them as mork does anything to protect day and day tries as best as he can to help mork but to no avail. in the end day manages to call the police which makes the debt collectors leave, and what's left is mork feeling guilty and day feeling impotent and the two of them trying to put themselves together: mork would insist on taking day home right away but day would stubbornly stand his ground and start touching mork to check for cuts and bruises, so mork just relents and lets day's fingers wander on his skin to put bandaids wherever makes mork hiss in pain. and they're gonna have to talk about what happened, sooner or later, but for now knowing the other is safe is enough

ANYWAY. MY TERRIBLE AND UNNECESSARILY LONG HEADCANONS ASIDE I CAN'T WAIT FOR THEM TO OUTSELL EVERYTHING AND GET ME INVOLUNTARILY COMMITTED

[slayfics]

You hide your injuries from Katsuki.

900 words

Your phone buzzing on the couch did little to interrupt the deep nap you had fallen into. Two pain meds deep and daytime television lulled you right to sleep.

[Katsuki] Dropping off some stuff at your apartment for when you’re back home.

You have been lying to avoid seeing Katsuki for weeks now. All due to the state that a villain had left you in. Shattered rib, black eye, broken arm. You knew it was inevitable that Katsuki would find out. Yet, you held out as long as possible.

In what fantasy did Dynamite’s partner get beaten up by a villain this bad make sense? Not to mention the villain got away from you. You just couldn’t face Katsuki like this. The shame was too heavy.

You loved Katsuki to the depths of your bones and would die to make him proud. Having him find out you failed and got this badly broken up from some dumb villain was unforgivable.

Your first lie was that you were sick and couldn’t see him. But then he tried to drop off food for you. So, you had to make another lie- you were away on a mission.

That worked until now. Katsuki pulled out the keys from his pocket latching them in the door. His intent was to set up your apartment with fresh groceries for when you got back from your mission. A complication you may have been able to avoid if you didn’t fall asleep on the couch and miss his text.

The front door to your apartment opened and you stirred in your sleep.

“Dumb ass left the TV on,” Katsuki mumbled seeing your daytime television. Walking over to shut it off he got a glimpse of you, passed out on the couch. “What the fuck?!” He exclaimed, snapping you out of your sleep.

You sat straight up alarmed by someone being in your apartment. Your eyes shot wide open at the sight of Katsuki standing in your living room, remote in hand.

"You're home?!" Katsuki stated confused, eyebrows furrowing together. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me?!" His eyes scanned over your broken body. Cast on your arm, left eye almost swollen shut. "What the fuck happened to you?!"

"Katsuki I can explain," you said, getting up off the couch to approach him.

"No! I don't want any more of your fucking lies," He snapped harshly, backing away from you. "Away on a mission- why would you have told me that if you've been here all along?! Were you even sick?!? The hell... if you... don't want to see me anymore- have the fucking guts to say it! Don't... string me along like this!" He yelled.

"No! That's not it!" You exclaimed stepping closer to him still.

"Then what is it?! I- Why would you hide this from me!? I thought I was the first person you'd come to but-," his eyes scanned over your injuries again. "You didn't come to me- even when you look like this? You- clearly don't need me," He decided.

"No! Katsuki isn't it obvious!" You yelled feeling your emotions heighten. "I'm fucking embarrassed!"

"Embarrassed?" Katsuki repeated, bewildered by your explanation.

"I didn't want you to see me this way!" You clarified.

"What the hell happened?" He questioned.

You sighed and looked at the floor. You knew eventually the truth would come out, but this was more painful than you'd imagine it would have been.

"Tell me," he said darkly, a command not a question.

"A villain," you said simply. "They... got away. I... didn't want you to know... you're Dynamite... you can't be dating someone that gets this beat up by some low-grade villain... I- didn't want you to be disappointed, or... find out I'm not good enough to be with you."

Katsuki let out a breath he didn't notice he was holding and took a step forward closing the distance between you two. Wrapping his arms around you, he brought your head to rest on his chest.

"That's- the dumbest shit you've ever said," he said softly. "You're a hero- and a damn good one. Hero work is tough, it's unavoidable we're all going to get beat up sometimes. That doesn't make you any less worthy or- a failure. You're tough as hell and... I'm proud as fuck to call you mine. So- don't ever say that dumb crap to me again." He concluded, squeezing you.

The pent-up anxiety exited your body in the form of soft tears, burying deeper into his chest you finally let it out. Katsuki rested his head on yours providing comfort while sitting in your emotions with you.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled into his chest when the tears lessened.

"Got nothing to apologize for," he said bringing you to look him in the eyes. "Understand?" He asked, you nodded mesmerized by the softness and devotion reflected in his eyes.

Katsuki moved a hand to push your chin and guide your lips to his. God, you missed this, the feel of his plump lips pressed against your own, the promise of security his embrace provided. You could have stayed like this forever, letting the stress you've been bottling up fade away.

However, Katsuki pulled away too soon, staring into your eyes once more. The softness in his eyes contorted into something you'd never seen before. Something dark and sinister.

"Now tell me... everything you know about this villain," he demanded.

sinners: @queenpiranhadon @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee @i-heart-carlisle @derangedmango @matchat3a @bakugouswaif @reneinii @peachsukii @pastelbakugou @abadbitchblogs @deluluforcarlos55 @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @pinkpurpledreams @that-one-fangirl69 @dreamcastgirl99 @jays-adventure3 @bythevay @my-beloved-fandoms

[coffee-and-tea-time]

 Lovesick! Patient x Reader.

Can't you stay longer? ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨♡

Yes, you can…ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨♡

Coffee speaking! This is planned as a unwilling to willing but this part is with a full unwilling reader and Tea is healthy again :D so y'all also are less likely to find weird things in the posts lol

Hello! Tea speaking! Since 7UP is already uploaded (we gotta find them names later), it's now turn for my favorite! (Pepsi is better than Coke and you can fight me on that)

tw: yandere behavior, threats, this place should have better security, kidnapping?, deaths of a random person, unwilling reader, written in you/yours

It was only a cold, you just need to go to the hospital to get the certificate and maybe some paracetamol and then leave, easy, isn't it?

As you walk through the hallways of the hospital, you turn left, having a hard time trying to find your way yourself in this big hospital. It seems like your sense of orientation failed this time, as you bump into a man who is dressed in one of those hospital gowns patients wear.

“I’m so sorry sir, I-”

When you were just about to explain your situation, the look of the man before your eyes makes you shut the fuck up really quickly, his blue eyes looking at you seem off but the toothy smile creeping out of his face makes it looks even scarier… oh dear, what have you stepped into?

“I can’t believe they let you in without somebody to guard you… I’m really happy, I can’t believe I found my darling in such an abrupt manner”

You don’t understand half of his words, but one thing is for sure, you have to run as far as you can from this lunatic, but an unexpectedly quick grip on your wrists and a forceful pull towards the room he came from makes it impossible to scape.

The room is the usual hospital room with stretcher for patients to sleep on and medical equipment, you wonder how it can be that there's no doctor or nurse in sight to ask to supervise their patients, but you don’t have a lot of time to meditate about how bad the personal of the hospital is as the man makes you sit on a chair that was close to one of the beds.

“Oh, you are so so precious, for the first time in my life I’m really grateful for my luck; I promise to take care of you, the nurses can bring anything you want from outside the hospital gates… We can always break out of this place”

He says such a terrifying thing in such a loving tone that it makes you doubt your own mind for a moment, he doesn't seem like he's gonna harm you as he kneels to wrap his arms around you in a tender and caring hug as you keep sitting.

You take the chance, since he is too focused on hugging you and murmuring sweetly, to take a peek around the room to see if there's anything you can use, it seems like a room that was used some days ago, your eye catches some broken things on the corner of the room, making you wonder what happened here, but you can't afford be lost in your thoughts here, it may end up badly if you make the wrong move, you don’t have that much of an option though since you don’t know how stable this man is.

So, you scream, you scream bloody murder until you almost go out of oxygen in your lungs.

what a useless attempt to seek for help

“Mm? Did something happen Darling? Why did you suddenly scream so loudly? Did you get hurt on any part of your body? Do you need something? Maybe you want some kisses to ease your mind?”

Is he dumb?

You can’t help but look at him dumbfounded as he holds your face reassuringly. Then, a nurse enters the room and you don't waste the opportunity and start talking to them in a quick peace due to the nervousness of what will come.

“Excuse me, I had an appointed but ended up kind of lost and then here in this weird situation, I probably should go head home already”

The nurse looks kind of confused by the situation, but the pity in their eyes is noticeable as they quickly get closer, eager to help.

“I’m so sorry about this, I’m new here so I don’t know much but for some reason there is a warning about not wandering around here more that necessary, you must have been in a panic to see that no workers come here”

You foolishly calm down by their gentle voice as they attempt to get closer with a sympathetic smile from the black haired man, which gets up to stand in front of you while facing the nurse, preventing them from getting close to you.

“You are not gonna take my darling anywhere, my dear just got a little scared for a moment, we don’t need you here to bother”

“Sir, you need to go to your room, this person is not an inpatient, they have no reason to be here, there’s no need to make a fuss about this, so now you need to move aside so I ca-”

oh

You watch in shock as the man takes out a scalpel, the world seems to go into slow motion for a moment just to turn into high-speed a second later, you end up front seat to see how the man stabs the nurse’s neck and then quickly go for their chest, aiming for the heart, without blinking as his white clothes gets stained with red.

“Please forgive me Dear, it wasn’t my intention to show this kind of gruesome spectacle to your pretty eyes, let me guide you to my room, you can sleep there to forget all about this annoying insect, I can sing you a lullaby if that helps, I'm pleased to help”

He says as he gets closer to you again leaving the corpse behind him, lifting you up into his arms, not even seeming to be struggling with your weight, which took you by surprise as you grip him fearing you'll fall off, you don’t trust this man but you really don’t want to taste his patience or self proclaimed ‘love’ for you.

sorry for any misspellings or weird sentence structure ❣

images from pinterest

[berrieluv]

<3; aaron johnson x reader (i think i didn't use pronouns but it's mention that the reader has a vagina) summary: you know damn well, you horny friends. kiki says: this fits contains unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), cheating kink, the feel of guilt that it's never enough to make him stop, i think this smut it's very light, just trying to keep you fed while i work in the angst. also english isn't my first language so i apologize for the bad writing.

me and your husband.

For the public, having you involved in the movie Kraven with Aaron after Bullet Train was just a normal occurrence, two actors working together more than once, nothing that hasn't happen before and nothing that won't happen again.

For Aaron, it was just his masterplan working. He craved you near him, he needed you there. He couldn't function properly anymore without you, without your body and the way your legs wrap around his neck.

His blue eyes are long gone by now, so full with lust he can not think of anything else. He already made you cum three times before you had to take a shower and attend a date, and now here you are again, seizing the day like you started it, with his tongue inside your wet cunt.

He kisses your thigh softly, his hand behind your knee, his mouth marking every inch of your skin with kisses, smelling your dripping pussy and looking amused at the wet spot on the beige sheets.

"You bought them for me?" He moans, looking at your lingerie next to him, the one he just took off the moment you walked back from dinner, his face buried between your thighs, you didn't. You bought them because they were pretty and expensive, and you could afford them "You look so pretty" He says.

His wife is sleeping in the next room, if you get close enough to the wall you could hear her sleep, which was weird, an expensive five stars hotel with thin walls, you must think they would be soundproof for the price. Or maybe it was your guilt, your senses sharpened in shame, making sure you never forget he's a married man.

But maybe you weren't better than that, but why should you. He wanted you, he needed you and loved you even more than you found him attractive, which was to say much.

"Fuck..." You moan when Aaron's tongue was inside your pussy. His hand grabbing your underwear and placing it on your thigh again, grabbing your skin and the lingerie along, the other hand over your belly, keeping you grounded.

Aaron licks the sides of your pussy, his tongue gently going through your folds, he teases your sensitive parts, hitting the right places, he knows how to use his tongue, and it feels like it has been wasted all this time.

Your moans grew louder when two of his fingers are inside you without any previous notice, moving them in and out, his tongue sucking on your clit and you feel yourself getting lost in pleasure.

"Is this good?" He asks out of breath, a big smile plastered across his face, almost like he thought he didn't need anything else but the sweet scent of your dripping cunt.

Was it good? It was fantastic.

"Hold for me, princess?" He asks softly, your legs curled up while your hands keep them up grabbing behind your knees.

He touches your ass, his hand traveling all over every part of your body, his lips are all over your sweet wet cunt, eating like a starving man, making sure every single drop of your wetness goes into his mouth.

"I need you..." He moans against your folds "Fuck, I need you so much"

Aaron takes all of your release, drinking it all, when he looks up his chin is all wet and a spark of proudness in his eyes.

He doesn't even look this proud when he's on a press conference.

"Keep holding your legs" He orders, taking off his jeans and boxers "Good girl" He praises with a smile when he walks back to bed.

You remind silence most of the times, your words consumed by your moans and whimpers, you want him so badly.

"Please..." You finally find the way to speak, your breath heavy and your heart beating faster than it should when he starts thrusting into you. His right hand holding himself on the mattress to not lay all of his weight on you.

His left hand massaging your breasts, treating it like it was a stress ball.

"Shit, princess" He moans, his eyes closing even if he tries to fight it, he loves watching you. He loves the look in your eyes and how they roll, going all blank when he starts thrusting faster.

"Oh!" You moan, and he smirks like a bastard, enjoying knowing he's the one making you feel like this "Oh, God! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" You cry, almost chocking in your own pleasure.

"Sh, sh..." He coos "Baby, you're chocking, princess" He chuckles, enjoying your desperation "I'm not even near your throat"

He caresses your cheek with a soft smile, moving slowly down to your throat, applying just the right pressure to make you gasp for air, shutting your moans.

"Don't be so loud..." He demands, it was meant to be teasing, but his voice sounds dominant, his expression is serious and his eyes darkened with lust and need of control "You know Sam is in the next room"

Sam, he doesn't refer as my wife anymore. She stopped being my wife a few months ago, just a few weeks after you became my everything. The air he breathed, not only his wants but his needs.

You feel a warm sensation running through your insides, a loud groan when he lets it out, his cum painting your cunt and dripping down your skin.

"God, I love my little masterpiece" He chuckles, watching your thighs covered by his cunt. "You're tired?"

He asks softly and you nod, his phone starts ringing at the same time you hear his wife walking around their hotel room, you wonder if he hears her.

"Your phone..." You say with your eyes closed when he ignores it and walks to the bathroom.

"Can wait" He says without hesitation.

"What if it's your wife?" You know is her.

"She can wait" Aaron says, it's almost like he doesn't care and a part of you knows he doesn't. "I'll clean you up first, super star"

[metanarrates]

there are a LOT of things you can speculate about regarding what twsa was actually like as a novel but what's most interesting to me is that you can make the argument that twsa was an "unpolished" version of what orv is. it's a version of a similar novel that likely dealt with a lot of similar themes but was seemingly bogged down by poor structure, pacing, expository handling, and focus. (all of which are things that orv is shockingly excellent at.)

and of course, han sooyoung's novel, sssss-grade infinite regressor, is the "polished" version of the idea. it's well-written, probably well-plotted, and was successful enough to make han sooyoung rich and famous. we don't know what sssss-grade infinite regressor is like as a novel either, but we sort of get the impression that it's not very emotionally rich even if it is good on a technical level. han sooyoung herself doesn't seem intensely attached to it despite being proud of her work, and kim dokja of course doesn't hold it in high regard. (though of course he's a gigantic unreliable narrator and also a hater.)

what's interesting is that despite orv very strongly emphasizing the ways these works are flawed from the outset, orv itself functions as an argument in these works' favor. both twsa and infinite regressor are stand-ins for the "mass-produced" genre of webnovels. they are popular fiction, relying on a very familiar pool of tropes and clichés in order to deliver on a relatively predictable story to appeal to a wide audience. it's not a coincidence that they are so similar - both literally and in a meta sense, they are drawing on the same exact story-building and genre material. twsa is just the unsuccessful version, and infinite regressor is the successful one.

orv is what I would consider the most "impressive" version of the genre. it's well-structured, thrillingly plotted, interestingly written, has fascinating ideas and characters, and is even "literary" - that is, it has deeply considered themes and is often drawing from the realm of literary, postmodern fiction in order to express its ideas. a less sincere story would disavow itself from its pop-fiction origins and claim to be the best version of its genre. nothing else could be like it, so the worst versions of its genre wouldn't be worth considering.

but orv, while technically functioning as an argument that the genre can be "good" simply because it's a great novel that is deeply rooted in its genre, goes much further. it argues in-text that any sort of story, even those that are bad on a technical level or those that were somewhat cynically produced for a mass audience, are worth finding value in, simply because stories have meaning to their readers. the most uncritical reproduction of a genre's conventions can still mean something to someone who likes it. twsa, if it existed in our reality, would still probably be considered a very bad novel, but it wouldn't need to be polished up and turned into infinite regressor or orv in order to have value. orv itself is telling you that you should find value in twsa as it is, and by extension, every badly-done work of fiction that twsa could be a stand-in for!

[soapsbaby]

Bunch of Deviants II

Summary: Second part of me assigning a k!nk to each of the 141 + Alejandro, Rudy, Graves, König and Valeria that I could imagine them having. You can find part one here. Enjoy!

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, König, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price, Phillip Graves, Alejandro Vargas, Rudy Parras, Valeria Garza, all x reader

Rating: NSFW (minors DNI)

Warnings: Choking, Primal Kink, Free Use, Degradation

Word Count: 1.3k-ish

Ghost - Primal

He loves the thrill of hunting you down. Even though you of course know that it's just him, the panic you feel when he catches you is genuine. The way he towers over you, eyes cold except for the sense of victory in them that he caught you and that you are now his to deal with whatever he wants to.

Usually he just takes you right where he catches you, ripping your clothes from your body and fucking you, pinning you down and just holding you in whichever position he needs you in.

He will be so humiliating and degrading, oh, you should run faster next time, are you actually enjoying this? you really are a needy little slut.

After he has come and you are all fucked out he will hold you, just pressing you to his chest until your heartbeat returns to a normal pace.

Soap - Receiving Nudes at Work

He loves when you rile him up through the entire day, sending him pictures, videos or voice messages, telling him how badly you want him, how you need him, how you've been touching yourself all day but it just doesn't compare to when he does it.

He won't be able to think straight until he's finally back home with you and gets to actually fuck you, working off the frustration you put him through.

Usually he just has to get himself off as quickly as possible, fucking you desperately, but he isn't done just because he came. Usually he'll take his time afterwards to eat you out for as long as you can take.

He also makes sure to save all of the messages so he can go through them later, especially on long missions with bad internet reception where it is all he can use to get himself off.

Price - Watching you Touch yourself

He loves watching you touch yourself for him. It started once when he walked in on you and instead of joining in, he just sat down on the foot of the bed, telling you to keep going even though your first reaction was to cover yourself with your blanket.

He loves the way he can read your body, can tell when you are getting closer, those little whines when you push yourself right up to the edge. He knows you too well.

He loves watching you come for him while he strokes himself. You look so beautiful when you do and he takes in every aspect of you, the way your eyelids flutter shut, your legs shaking and your mouth falling open, his name spilling over your lips.

His favorite part is when he finally gets to fuck you for round two, you are so wet after you've come once already and you are so whiny and sensitive.

Gaz - Free Use

Free use goes both ways for you. Especially if you have longer periods of vacation times where you can stay home you will fuck wherever and whenever. Whether it is you walking in while he plays video games and sucking him off while he tries to not let the people on voice chat know or him pushing up your dress while you are working in the kitchen to fuck you from behind, you love being available for each other.

For convenience you both usually don't wear much clothes at home anyways and you also sleep naked.

Of course you both know that you can deny favors to one another if you are not feeling up to it, but neither of you really ever do. Each other's pleasure is enough motivation.

König - Thigh Riding

Having you ride his thigh is one of his favorite things, he loves the way it gives him close to no physical stimulation so he can focus completely on you without any distractions.

He loves the desperation in your eyes when you drag yourself across him, grinding your hips against his leg because it's the only thing he'll let you have if he's feeling strict.

Sometimes, when you are already overstimulated he will grab you by the hips and make you grind down even harder and faster, feasting on your whimpers.

It's one of his favorite ways to make you come, the way your movements stutter and he has to grab you to hold you upright, whispering sweet praise into your ears.

Graves - Pegging

It took him so, so long to admit to you that he wanted you to peg him. He was terrified that you would reject him or even be weirded out by his request. He didn't want to make you feel any different about him.

Of course you didn't, and you both loved it from the first time you tried it out. Everything about his reaction to being fucked refuses to leave your mind, the way his body just seemed to melt into the sheets, legs refusing to support him, hands tangled in the sheets for some form of support.

You have never heard him moan the way he does every time you peg him, his mind just immediately turns into putty and all of his dirty thoughts just spill out, begging for you to go harder.

Will usually be able to come hands free if you take your time with him.

Alejandro - Degradation

He loves you more than anything in the world and he respects and adores you, but there is just something about treating you like a dirty whore that gets him going like nothing else.

He loves making you give him sloppy blowjobs and making you drool all over him, he loves bending you over whichever surface is closest to you and just taking you then and there.

He loves treating you like you are property, like you're a toy he gets to use to get himself off, pushing you into whichever position he wants you in.

He doesn't let go until you have come at least a few times, his favorite is when you come around his cock, the way you clench around him and that sweet, overwhelmed look in your eyes drives him insane.

He will always make sure afterwards that you are okay and that you know that none of the ways he treated you reflect how he actually feels about you and that you know how much he loves and appreciates you.

Rudy - Choking

The majority of the time there is no clear dom-sub relationship between the two of you, however, he adores you choking him.

His favorite position is when you are riding him and then wrap your hands around his throat, just tight enough to make him a little dizzy.

He'll beg for you to kiss him, take away even more of his ability to breathe.

He comes so hard being choked, almost passing out and whimpering for you to go harder on him.

Valeria - Strap-Ons

It doesn't matter what your gender is, if you let her, she'll use her strap on you.

She almost sees it as an extension of herself, she adores seeing you on your knees and making you suck the strap, praising and degrading you at the same time as she fucks your throat as deeply as you can take it, "such a pretty slut, so needy for my cock, aren't you?"

She fucks you like she wants you to never be able to walk again, rough and deep, long deep strokes. If the position allows it she'll also use her hands on you, circling your most sensitive spots with her thumb and taking pleasure in your desperate, whiny moans.

[regainingparadise]

Relistening to TMA Season 5, I am again struck by how goddam badly Martin and Jon need couples counseling.

I love them both. I ship them very much. But oh lord they have issues

Like, these are two individuals who, under the very best of circumstances, would really need therapy both individually and together. They are both people with plentiful quantities of relational trauma from childhood that neither of them have worked through even the slightest bit.

And then you throw them into the apocalypse. And you add a metric fuck ton of guilt, helplessness, and the dynamics of being "The Antichrist and +1"?

On a surface level--Jon is in a perpetual state of information overload. Martin is in a perpetual state of "can you please just explain the basics of what's' going on in a given situation and not just say "it's complicated" or launch into a gruesome monologue"

But on a deeper level, their childhood relational traumas have left them each with opposing avoidant tendencies: Jon is unwilling to broach a difficult conversation, which leads him to hide information until he's confronted. Martin, on the other hand, has a finely honed ability to ignore information that he doesn't like until he no longer can hide from it.

Biggest example of their avoidance tendencies: Martin's Domain

Way early on, when we barely understand any of how the hellscape works, Jon mentions it, Martin shuts it down hard and deflects quickly with a bid for affection from Jon

Martin is in deliberate denial, but Jon admittedly wasn't particularly clear to start with.

"We all have a domain."

Jon means it, presumably, as "Me, You, and other 'Avatars.'" Jon is used to being grouped with those empowered by the Entities. Martin isn't. (see also: MAG185: Martin" Is that how these creatures see us now? As one of them?") But that's not what Jon says. And this is MAG167--they've only been through four domains, at least that we've seen. Jon is speaking from a place of knowledge, and assuming his listener has that same knowledge.

And when this issue comes up much later in MAG183, Martin has spent 17 episodes ignoring or forgetting that he has a domain, not letting that information in so that he has never processed it. (See also: Mag170: "Sometimes I wonder if I forget things on purpose. Easier not to think about them, I guess. Easier to just let them… slip away. They can’t hurt you if you don’t think about them.").

Martin confronts Jon on his avoidance (because while Martin may be good at ignoring things he doesn't like, he's far better at bringing up challenging topics), Jon is able to manage some A+ communication on his feelings and the genuine challenging of figuring out how to share upsetting information when he has All The Information, Martin accepts that. I just desperately want a therapist to be there and make them continue this conversation and practice ongoing good communication skills!

Though they resolve this, even though Jon has an explanation that makes sense...he was really leaving this conversation to the last minute. Would he have "[brought] it up at the crossroads" as he claims to Helen? Or would he have avoided it entirely, as she accuses, or waited till they were at the threshold, as he does with The Desolation and the Hunt, leaving Martin to confront terrifying situations without forewarning or planning or explanation.

Again, Jon kind of tried to bring up some of the potential issues with Basira and Daisy before entering the Hunt domain, but kept it Vague and Ominous ("Things aren't...good"). Martin took that vagueness as an opening to avoid engaging with potential bad news. The teensiest bit of therapy for either of them about their communication issues could have let Jon add "I know you're exited but FYI here are some specifics that you should know" and/or Martin go "I'm excited to see them but given that nothing is good right now, can you be more specific?"

Instead, Jon approaches difficult conversations by being Vague and Ominous, Martin gets snarky or passive-aggressive at the vagueness, upset or aggressively avoidant at the Ominousness, Jon closes back up like a turtle into his shell, and the conversation only comes back up when the situation has drastically escalated, leaving them both more upset.

Jon wants Martin to trust him, because explaining what he knows implicitly is an ordeal for him, and because his upbringing by his grandmother has suggested that communicating is generally unwanted and burdensome (See: MAG081 A Guest for Mr. Spider).

Martin wants to know what is going on, because he's in an awful hellscape of shifting rules about what can and cannot hurt them, completely dependent on a brand-new romantic partner for his survival and purpose, and also because his upbringing and coping mechanisms as a caretaker rely on him knowing enough to help, and his time as an archival assistant has given him some not-inconsiderable trauma about being left in the dark (See: MAG118 The Masquerade) (There's also another post in my head about how MAG118 primed Martin for both the Lonely and his development as a more confrontational character in S5)

All that to say.

Martin needs therapy to deal with the way he chooses not to absorb information he doesn't like. Jon needs therapy to understand that sometimes it's ok to bring up important topics even if the other person will be upset. They both need therapy to cope with all the guilt and helplessness around the apocalypse so they stop taking it out on each other. They need therapy together to learn how to work through their conflicting coping mechanisms.

[citrus-writing]

yandere phantom troupe- depressed darling

Thinking about how most yanderes would be terrible at dealing with a darling with mental illness? Because even if darling already struggled with their mental health, being kidnapped and held hostage can't help. And no matter how badly their yandere wants to help, they can't ever let their darling go, even if it would help them more than anything. The best they can do is try to make life with them as good as possible.

This is written with depression in mind, but kinda blankets over any struggling mindset. (this doesn't mention any kind of self harm or suicidal ideation, i might make a part two touching on that, but this one is safe from that content.) 

---------

Chrollo, paku, and shal- all enable mental illness by accident. You're precious and helpless and so so weak, so it makes sense when you can't do things for yourself. Don't even worry about trying to get better, just be yourself- you're perfect, they don't want you to change at all (not even for the better). But all three of them would at least try to offer comforts, because they hate to watch your struggle and hurt. 

---

Pakunoda knows what kind of self care and healthy habits suit her, and she tries to push those on you. She'll run you a hot bath, light scented candles, paint your nails, get you a journal to write in. But if those things don't help you she doesn't really listen to what you want or need. She simply insists that she knows best and you're being difficult- she wants you to trust her judgement on this, even if you know she's wrong.

Chrollo notices immediately the shift in your mood and demeanor. He insists you talk to him about whatever's on your mind, even if all you really want is to keep your mind off it. He presents it as a way to help you, so you can get all those thoughts out of your head. Sometimes it works. Sometimes you're grateful that he listens so intently with no judgment. But sometimes you don't really want to share what's on you mind- but you don't really have a choice, and he always knows if you're keeping something from him. Anything you ask for is yours instantly, anything he can do to try to help you. But when you ask to go home, he looks at you like you’re not making sense. He reminds you, gently, that you ARE home. 

Shalnark is the worst of the three, he doesn't really offer much in the way of support, even though he thinks he does. He keeps you near him all the while, holding you close and trying to keep you from crying, constantly trying to distract you. But as soon as the distraction fades away you feel just as bad as before. It's a Viscious cycle, one that has you constantly needing to rely on him for comfort because there's no real progress being made. But that's OK, because he loves getting to dote on you. He really does think it’s going to help, keeping your mind off of it, but the truth that always comes back is your separated from everything in your life, everything you love, and he refuses to acknowledge that. 

--------

Machi, phinks and uvogin- both do their best to genuinely help, but neither of them are good at it. Both of them try to offer support however they can, because they both hate seeing their darling so miserable, but neither of them have a very good sense of how to help. At the very least, they are trying, and that counts for something. 

---

Machi knows a lot about medicine, between her nen and her extensive knowledge she can fix up almost any wound or injury. But with things like mental illness it's harder. She can't understand why you're so unhappy, and she can't figure out how to fix it. She even lets you outside (only in the backyard, and only with her) but it doesn't seem to help. She does a hundred thousand little things to try to help, from cooking your favorite food to buy you your favorite books to sewing or buying you new clothes. It's frustrating to not be able to help you and she hates being helpless in this. 

Phinks doesn't understand, and that makes him so much more volatile than he needs to be. He wants to be able to help you, and on some level, believes he should just know how to help you. It’s frustrating- almost infuriating- that he can't help you. And no matter what he does, how considerate he tries to be, it never helps. At the very least, he can't get mad at you when he sees how sad you are all curled up and crying. But being spared his fits of rage is one of the only upsides when he is so clueless on how to help. With phinks, I really do think you’re best off just asking for anything you need. He is willing to indulge you a little bit to make you feel better. 

Uvogin also does his best to help, but he’s equally bad at it. He doesn't have machi’s understanding of medicine, and is all around much less patient. But he is more patient and understanding than phinks. if it’s for you, he’ll do his best. Uvogin does his best to do little things he knows normally make you happy- from little jokes, to your favorite shows and music, to your favorite meals. And to be fair, life with him isn't nearly as bad as life with some of the other yanderes in the troupe, so he’s already better off than a lot of them. 

-----

Feitan, shizuku, illumi- Completely ignore it. Of course they notice you seem down- not like yourself, sad, depressed even. But what can they do? Isn't it enough they make sure to meet all of your physical needs, isn't it enough that you get to live with them, their darling pet? It had better be enough, because you’re very unlikely to get any kind of comfort. 

---

Feitan doesn't notice until it gets concerningly bad. Sure, he knew you were unhappy, miserable even. He didn't blame you for that, afterall, even he would admit he’s been cold to you. And since you've come here, you’ve been subjected to so many horrors it’s almost a given that your mind would be caving under the pressure. But Is he really so unbearable? He doesn't think so. For a while, he tries forcing you to go about your day with him like normal. But by now, he’s gotten used to seeing you smiling, acting almost lively, at least pretending to be happy. It grates on him that he can't see you smile now. He keeps you in your room, checking on you incessantly, but content to let you rest until you’re feeling better, or at least able to fake it. 

Shizuku is the most likely not to notice at all. She doesn't keep quite as close a watch over you as a lot of the other troupe yanderes do, and for the most part, you're grateful for that. But in this care, it’s not such a good thing, because if she noticed you were sad, of course she'd try to help. But sadness can be subtle, and unless you're outspoken about it, she might miss it. She loves you more than anything, but your moods and feelings are something she struggles to keep track of. It’s hard for her to know how you feel, and she doesn't know what you need without knowing how you feel. If you do manage to open up to her about how down you feel, she’s more willing to try to help you. 

Illumi has gone through quite a bit of trouble to make everything in your home suited to your tastes. Your clothes- while all picked out by him- are all in colors and patterns you like. Your meals- while all cooked by him- are all your favorites. Your bedroom- once again, set up by him- is almost perfectly to your taste as if it’d come straight out of your pinterest board. So what more could you possibly need? What needs of yours aren't being met? If you tell him, there’s a chance he’d listen, especially if the thing you need is simple. But don't even bother asking to be let go, or you will be punished, no matter how much you cry. 

[skylersprompts]

DC x DP Prompt *10*

It had been a relative uneventful day in Gotham, the new Week just started and most of the big rouges were still in Arkham after the last big breakout. And even tho the nightly patrol wasn't done, Batman send most of his charges that were still somewhat injured home. He, Orphan and Robin would be able to handle the rest.

They had stopped some muggings and one break-in by the time patrol officially ended. His children made their way back to the manor on their bikes, while the Bat made one last round through the docks.

He had a feeling of foreboding, not necessarily a bad feeling, but he was cautious. Even if Cassandra and Damian weren't hurt that badly, he still wanted them home. He wasn't entirely sure why, but he didn't had much time to think it over.

A swirling green Portal opened in front of him and a figure started to emerge from it. Bruce got into a fighting stance, his eyes trained on the unknown.

The Portal vanished after a young man, almost still a boy, stepped out of it. He had white hair that seemed to sway as if he was under water. Green freckles glowed in the dark, just a little muted in contrast to the vibrant green eyes. The boy - because the longer Bruce looked, the younger the being seemed - floated a few inches in the air. In his hands he held what looked like a type of thermos.

"You are Batman, right?", his voice seemed to echo a bit, even in this open space. Bruce just gave a little nod, still in his fighting stance. Just because the other seemed young, didn't mean he wasn't dangerous.

"Good, good... ahem... So my name is Danny or Phantom or Danny Phantom and I know this might come a bit suddenly, but a friend of mine - well more like my mentor - said that I was on the way for the best possible timeline and I think he really needs someone like you - you know with all those contingency plans - and a different dimension than ours and he is already 3 years in the thermos, well minus the bit he was out for a moment where Clockwork sat his Bodytime a bit back, so that he can have a childhood again, but that was like five minutes max. so that doesn't really count, because ha was also in timeout, so for him it was more like a few seconds, but ahem, what I wanted to ask you Mr. Batman, sir... Would you take my evil self from a different timeline, so that he can have a better childhood and maybe be not evil anymore?", Danny rambled and Batman really wished in this moment to have any of his children here, just to make sure that he did indeed hear correctly.

Even if everything had came out in one breath, the things he could piece together didn't paint the best picture. But it seemed like his brooding had taken to long, because the child folded into himself and started do fidget.

"I understand that you don't want to, you don't know me or Dan or anything about us, but you seemed to be the one most capable of handling him and I looked through so many dimension in the hope to find a good place for him... I can understand why he is like he is, but I will never be able to talk sense into him. His actions are unforgivable, but his timeline doesn't exist anymore, the things he done never happened and he is alone in a dimension that would just remind him of everything that happened if he would life with us... But I can totally just look into some more dimension if you don't want to! It's not your problem and I shouldn't have bothered, sorry!" Phantom started to raise his hand and a green line became visible where his finger cut through the air. If Bruce didn't do anything the being would go with a child that needed his help.

"I want a list with all his abilitis, his weaknesses, his potential triggers, dietary needs, allergies, a way to contact you, your mentor and a third trusted person in case of an emergency and a weekly check in system from your side", Bruce knew his kids would make fun of him when he brought another child home, but someone said he was the best possible guardian for this boy, so he would take him. And if he felt pleased about Danny's surprised and relieved face, than no one needed to know.

"Of course! I think Clockwork gave me a folder with everything!", the boy exclaimed, before he led the riff he started to open close, just to open another one. He seemed to rummage in the small Portal, until he showed him a folder full of papers. This would take a while to go through, but at least the boy was prepared.

[lazycats-stuff]

Another request, hope it’s not bad.

But batbro!reader who was raised to be perfect. Who’s older than Damian bur younger than Tim. But I was thinking maybe Bruce and readers mum have split custody and his mum is very demanding, the reader doing things like music and ballet (I just love dancing bc I was a dancer) and their mum pushes them to be perfect, in that and schoolwork and belittles then if it’s not perfect.

Like they are worse than most of the family, not sleeping and always studying or pushing his body to the limits with practice.

The family is going to a dancing competition for Cassandra and the reader is performing but they don’t know, reader not getting first place and they see how his mother reacts badly, maybe belittling the reader, their reaction maybe.

Hope it makes sense, if you are uncomfortable with it dw🫶. I’ve seen so many assassin or killer ones.

Oh I hate those types of parents... Thankfully, my parents are not like this... Thanks mom and dad. Also, not a dancer so any inaccuracies are on me. Also, I don't know why this is so short???

Summary: (Y/N)'s mom is awful. Bruce finds out.

Warnings: the mom is awful, belittling, the fam is not having it and neither is the author, verbal abuse

Standards are important in life. With the said standards you choose important things in life. Partners are one of the most important thing you need to choose by your standards, but there is no such thing as perfection. There is no such thing as being a perfect person in anything you can do.

Everyone makes mistakes.

But that's something that (Y/N)'s mother doesn't seem to understand. Both her and Bruce taught her that it's important to have standards. But they had different approaches.

(Y/N)'s mom wanted nothing more than perfection. Bruce only wanted (Y/N) to give him his best. And with sharing custody with his mother made things far more difficult for the teen. Bruce noticed how tired he was and how he looked like he was on the verge of sleeping every single time he sees (Y/N).

But the mom couldn't care less. She wanted her son to be perfect. And if he didn't achieve what she had in mind? Well, he would get grounded and shouted at.

(Y/N) didn't even want to remember all the insults she screamed at him over the years. He doesn't want to remember the fact that she was his mother. But he knew that the custody agreement wouldn't change.

They always favor the mothers rather than fathers.

The only thing where he could let go of those insults and thoughts was ballet. It was his biggest passion and it was supported by both his mother and Bruce. Bruce always tried to come on every single recital that (Y/N) had and he was always the loudest person in there.

However, (Y/N) was competing against his adopted sister Cassandra. (Y/N) didn't tell them, because his mom didn't want Bruce to know. She was often like that, trying to rob Bruce of a lot of things. (Y/N) didn't like that at all, but he couldn't go against her.

After Cassandra was finished, (Y/N) saw that he had a good competitor. He stretched behind in the wings, getting himself mentally ready.

He would really have to reach deep inside himself in order to win.

(Y/N) was happy with how he did and now they waited for the awards. Cassandra and (Y/N) knew that it would be a tight race for the first place.

One thing that he didn't expect to hear was that he got second place. He smiled, but his gut dropped. Oh no. No. Not happening. This can't be happening.

He accepted the award with a smile, but he could see him mom in the crowd. She was fuming. He looked to look at his father, who was smiling at him, showing him a thumbs up. That was a little bit comforting.

After they have finished, he changed into the normal clothes. He took a deep breath as he saw his mother.

" Second place? Do you know how you embarrassed I am? " She whispered harshly. Bruce congratulated Cassandra and then walked towards the duo.

" You are a failure. " She said and Bruce saw red. Not happening.

" (Y/N)? Please go to your brothers. " Bruce said, a tight smile on his face.

The said brothers were glaring at (Y/N)'s mother, ready to give her the piece of their mind. They welcomed (Y/N), saying that he did a good job. (Y/N) nodded, but he didn't really believe it.

Bruce was chewing his mom out and said that that he will have full custody of his son. No child of his will be berated.

" Hey (Y/N), you are going to stay with me from now on. " Bruce said, hugging his son.

" What about mom? " (Y/N) asked.

" Don't worry about her. I don't want you to go back to her. I don't want you to go through the abuse. And as soon as I can, I will file for full custody. Nobody deserves to be abused like that.

[python333]

I love your writings sm. And I love the way you write platonic stuff with task force 141 😋

You can ignore this if ya want but I just can't get over reader angst. Honestly atp I starve for angst. Could you feed us another angst fic? Like platonic 141 with a reader where she maybe got pretty badly injured while being on a mission? :3

AND. don't forget to stay hydrated and eat well!! Take any breaks you need 😌.

(sorry if this doesn't make sense English is not my native language 🥲)

below zero — python333

— — — —

synopsis u get thrown into a freezer after refusing to give up intel to enemy soldiers, and u get thrown into a freezer, and ghost comes and saves u :3

relationships platonic!ghost & gn!reader.

characters ghost.

word count 5.2k

warnings hypothermia, disorientation, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note hi anon thank u so much for all the compliments!!! before i say anything else, i wanna point out that i 1) only really wrote ghost into this and 2) literally read the request completely wrong and i think im actually just illiterate because how did i mess up this bad. ALSO hi its been a month since i posted on here i swear i'm still alive i'm just super busy with school!! updates are going to be extremely slow, so i apologize in advance. still, i hope u enjoy it anyways tho!! its all hurt/comfort + angst/fluff + protective/soft ghost :3

When you were thrown into the freezer, the first thing you noticed were the bodies. 

There’s ten that you can immediately see, and twelve once you look a little bit closer. All of them are suspended from the ceiling, each hanging from their ankle—with said ankle being held up by a meat hook. 

When the door had been closed shut with a loud, booming thump you hadn’t felt any immediate fear. But now, as you’re sitting in the corner of the freezer you’d been trapped in—the corner farthest away from any bodies—that fear is starting to set in.

Before this, only a few minutes ago, you were being interrogated. Your captors were asking for information on the details of any upcoming missions, objectives, target locations, anything that you had about the 141 that you could share with them, they wanted. 

Of course, you didn’t say anything. You remained silent throughout the entire thing, not talking once, even when at the end of the whole thing your interrogator slammed his hand down onto the table you were sat down in front of and yelled at you to say anything. 

When he and his team figured out that you wouldn’t give them any information, you remember he muttered something unintelligible under his breath and swiftly walked over to your end of the table. He had uncuffed your ankles from the legs of the chair you were sitting down on and uncuffed your wrists from the table, and before you could fight back, he grabbed both of your wrists with one hand and dragged you behind him. 

Then, he led you to the freezer you were trapped in now, and threw you in roughly before shutting the door behind you. You had hit and scratched at the door for a good minute after being thrown in, and after you figured that it was a waste of time trying to do so, you sighed and retired to the corner.

Now, as you’re huddled in the corner, you kind of regret not giving them the intel they needed. 

The freezer wasn’t too bad at first—you thought you’d last pretty long in there, and mentally called all the dead bodies hung from meat hooks in there pussies and simply walked around for a bit. The walking helped warm you up a bit, but soon it got tiring, and you retired to the corner farthest away from any dead bodies. 

You think the freezer is below zero degrees—no, has to be below zero, because now, just about five minutes after being thrown in, violent shivers have started to wrack your body and you swear you can’t feel your lips anymore. You haven’t been able to feel any sort of warmth in the past four minutes, all of it disappearing within the first. 

And God, the smell. The smell of frozen, rotting flesh really isn’t something you ever want to smell again. Thankfully, there’s no live flies in the freezer—all of them had died of the severe cold, creating small black circles under each hanging body where they died. 

You currently have your knees up to your chest with your hands trapped in between your thighs to try and keep them warm at least, with your forehead resting on the top of one of your knees. It’s working, kind of. The palms and backs of your hands feel just warm enough to not be considered cold, but the tips of your fingers are so cold they’re beginning to burn. 

You pull them back a bit to trap your fingertips in between your thighs, exposing the area where your wrist and hand meet to the cold, sighing as your fingertips warm up just a bit. Your thighs, thankfully, still have some heat trapped in between them, and you think your stomach is still somewhat warm. 

Around ten minutes later, you feel the heat trapped in your thighs start to dissipate. Fucking fantastic. You sigh and let your head tilt back, the back of it hitting the wall behind you, making you wince at the cold metal directly on your head. The cold seems to crawl through your hair and make it to your scalp, small pinpricks of the cold spreading throughout your scalp and the back of your neck. 

You’re reminded of just how cold it is then, of how this is quite literally a freezer, and of how said freezer has already claimed twelve lives. Or, at least, has housed twelve dead bodies and several unfortunate flies.

Just then, the fear finally starts to set in. 

At first, you weren’t all too worried about being saved—you figured you’d be found soon enough, since your team has a general idea of where you are. But the more you think about it, the more your brain emphasizes the general part of general idea. You start to think about how they don’t know any specifics. 

Sure, they know that you were captured, and that you were being held in some small part of Italy, and the people who captured you—but what did they know beyond that? Did they know your exact location? How long would it take them to figure it out? And how long would it take them to get here? 

Would you even be alive by the time they got here, if they ever did?

You notice your teeth starting to make an annoying chattering noise and you bite down to stop them. The violent shivers that wrack your body don’t help, the intense trembling only succeeding in making you more anxious. You start to become hyper aware of the cold that crawls onto your back from the freezing metal you’re leaning back on, and you quickly push yourself just a foot away from it so that it no longer bothers you. 

Your feet are starting to feel numb, you don’t think you’d be able to stand on them anymore if you tried, for you fear you’d just stumble and fall down. You look around the small freezer. There’s nothing that could help you get out—there’s only the bodies suspended from the ceiling and the dead flies that surround them. 

You’re glad none of the bodies are facing you—you don’t know what you would do if you had to sit in the corner with a bunch of dead bodies staring at you with their vacant, frozen-over eyes. Thinking about the eyes makes your own water, and you blink away the small tears that’ve gathered on your waterline. 

You can’t feel them, but you see the tears that were once in your eyes now clumping together on your eyelashes, making your brows furrow. With them starting to cling to your eyelashes comes blurriness for the top half of whatever you can see. You sigh, a white puff of condensation hanging in the air as evidence of your exhale, and move your hand out from in between your thighs to wipe away the tears from your lashes haphazardly. 

You don’t bother to put your hand back in between your thighs, instead just resting it on top of your knee. Despite it only having been around fifteen minutes since you were thrown into the freezer, you’re starting to feel more fatigued and your breath slows down significantly, as does your heartbeat. 

Another ten minutes of doing nothing but staring at the wall opposite of your own pass by, and disorientation is starting to set in. You feel oddly forgetful—like at times, you forget how you even got into the freezer, and have to wrack your brain to remember that you literally got thrown into it and are now trapped in here until someone rescues you. Assuming they do. Who was it that would even rescue you? 

You think long and hard for a few seconds, and can scrounge up nothing from your confused mind. You let out a frustrated huff and let your head tilt and fall forward so that your forehead is resting atop your knee, another shiver ripping through your frame. It almost feels like it’s getting colder in the fridge. 

Suddenly, you hear a loud banging noise—albeit, it sounded more muffled to your ears, but you could tell it was loud—and guns being fired. 

You can’t really tell when the gunfire dies down, but you can tell when the thumping of someone’s boots grows louder and closer to the door of the freezer. You try to stand up, not really knowing why since you’re in no condition to fight, having been in a freezer for about forty minutes, but you still attempt to. 

You find that standing is extremely difficult after practically being frozen alive for the past forty minutes, because as soon as you try to even push yourself off of the ground with your shaky hands, you discover that you aren’t even strong enough to push yourself up a single inch before having to stop. As well as that, you find that the ground is just as freezing as the walls and air of the freezer, because your hands now ached with frostbite. 

The action causes an unexpected wave of exhaustion to roll over you, and you pant to try and catch your breath, breathing white puffs of condensation out into the air. 

You hear a loud bang against the door, and jump at the sound, your head whipping towards the door. You hear another loud noise, and the confused fog that’s taken over your mind only grows thicker, your disorientation only growing stronger with it. The room feels like it’s spinning, and the feeling reminds you of a word, and you know what the word is, but fuck, why don’t you know it at the same time? Why can’t I remember anything? 

There’s another bang, and you hear muffled cursing before suddenly the door bursts open, a man wearing a skull mask stumbling in after it does so—he probably ran into it to open it, you think, watching the man get his balance back. He looks around for a moment before his eyes land on you, and the moment they do, you finally remember something. 

That’s Ghost. 

Somewhere in your confusion-clouded mind, you’re happy that you’ve finally remembered something. But right now, you can’t really think about anything—your mind is blank, and you can barely even process what you’re seeing. 

You’re so caught up in thinking about the fact that you aren’t really thinking, you’re just focusing a little more on whatever’s going on in your mind and not actually retaining any of it, that you don’t even notice Ghost rushing towards you and kneeling down right next to you. 

He pauses for a moment, but after a second he makes the decision to put one hand behind your back and snake one under your legs, the warm physical touch making you wince. Not that you didn’t like the warmth—you just didn’t like the sudden temperature change beneath your knees and across your back.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Ghost grunts as he picks you up, one arm under your knees and the other behind your back, lifting you up into a sort of bridal carry. He nearly drops you because of how cold your skin is—for a moment he thinks your back and legs are wet, then he realizes that no, they aren’t wet, you’re just really fucking cold. 

He takes a moment to make sure you’re secure in his arms before tilting his head to the side, all the way down to his shoulder, and muttering something into his earpiece. Despite being so close to him, his voice only sounds muffled to you—in all honesty, just about everything is starting to sound more muffled to you. You can only tell he’s done talking because he lifts his head back up and readjusts his arms around you, before walking out the busted-open door. 

The walking quickly turns into running, which then turns into sprinting, making your surroundings go blurry and makes your vertigo worse—it almost feels like you’re falling. You’re grateful you haven’t eaten anything in the past few hours, because you fear that if you had, you would’ve thrown it all up by now. All you can see are blurred colors—the hallways, you vaguely remember, because I’m in a building. How’d I even get here? Why am I here? You’re pulled out of your confused thoughts when you’re set down on the ground somewhere, and forced into a lying position with your limbs all outstretched. When you slowly blink up at what you thought was the ceiling, you’re both surprised and not surprised when you see the blue-black night sky. 

Not sure of what’s going on, you try to get up, but Ghost quickly pushes you back down, muttering something under his breath. He pauses for a moment, his blurred figure stopping any and all movements, before he suddenly picks you back up, making you wince at the way your head spins at the sudden movement. You hear a quiet, muffled—but clearer than before—’sorry’ from Ghost before he’s running again. 

It’s a much shorter distance this time, and instead of immediately setting you down, you hear something click and suddenly you hear another muffled voice. They sound concerned, you mentally note, Or maybe confused. Maybe both, actually. No yeah, definitely both. Well, now just concerned. Or maybe that’s confused. 

Caught up in your confused thoughts, you don’t realize that you’re being set down on a few comfy seats. You aren’t pulled away from your own thoughts until you feel two warm hands cupping either side of your jaw, and hear Ghost’s oddly distressed voice becoming more clear by the second. You now acknowledge the weird ringing in your ears that almost drown out the sound of Ghost, and struggle to figure out what he’s saying through the annoying noise. 

“—something,” You catch the end of Ghost’s sentence, and blink up at him slowly. 

“Huh?” You elegantly ask, coughing and wincing at your hoarse voice, not knowing how it got so hoarse—or why it hurt so much to talk. Your throat almost felt like it was burning, but it also felt oddly numb, a sensation you couldn’t quite put a name on. 

“Oh my god,” Ghost sighs, his forehead falling onto your chest momentarily as he takes a few deep breaths. He brings his head back up from your chest and says, “I almost thought you were dead when I got in there. Jesus, you look dead. I need to— I need to get something, a blanket or— why the fuck don’t we carry any heat packs or anything in here? Swear to God, I’m gonna—” You don’t pay too much attention to Ghost’s panicked ranting and shift your head to the side to try and look at where you are, and you discover that you’re in a car. Oh. Cool. You spot the door on the passenger seat’s side still open and swinging a bit, as if it’d been opened quickly just a few moments earlier for someone to quickly get out. 

Ghost suddenly backs up and gets out of the car, though staying within a foot of it, looking around for a moment before heading to the back of the car. Your head clears up the tiniest bit, just enough for you to be able to assume that he’s heading to the back of the car to get to the trunk for whatever reason, and you simply lie there on the seat cushions. 

A few seconds later, Ghost comes back with a somewhat-fluffy jacket, and carefully gets into the car—half kneeling down so that he doesn’t need to lean on the seats to get to you. He tosses the coat over your chest, and it does absolutely nothing at first, at least not until Ghost gets a bit closer and tucks the coat tighter around you, treating it like a blanket. Then, it starts to warm you up just the tiniest bit. Beyond that, it does absolutely nothing. But props to Ghost for at least trying. 

He quickly backs out of the car and once he’s out he closes the door behind him, and you want to get up for a moment, just to go see what he’s doing, but you don’t have to. He gets into the car again, this time in the driver’s seat, and he turns on the ignition. Once the car rumbles to life, he immediately turns up the heat and leans over to the passenger seat’s side in order to close the door, and with a grunt he manages to do so. 

The newfound heat makes you shiver, and it almost feels like you’re in a microwave defrosting. Distracted by the sudden temperature change, you don’t pay attention to what Ghost is saying into his earpiece as he glances out the front window of the car and back at you. You simply tug the jacket tighter around your torso and relish in the warmth. 

“—ay. So we’ll just leave then, and you’ll be fine?” You pick up from Ghost’s conversation, perking up at the mention of leaving, “Copy that, Captain. I’ll get them back to base.”

‘Captain’—Oh, he’s talking to Price—says something that makes Ghost sigh exasperatedly and take his index finger off of his earpiece, instead settling both of his hands on the steering wheel of the car and stealing one last glance at you before setting his eyes on the gravel ahead of him and pushing down on the gas pedal.

— 

When you wake up, you’re significantly warmer than you were… however-long-it’s-been-ago. 

You look to your left and see nothing but a white wall and a heart rate monitor—which displays that your heart rate is 115—then to your right, where you see Ghost sitting in a plastic chair close to the bed you’re laying in, eyes closed with his head tilted to the side and resting on his own shoulder.

You don’t bother trying to wake him up, not knowing how long he’s been asleep or how much sleep he’s gotten, and instead simply turn your head back to stare up at the ceiling. 

After maybe five minutes of zoning out and staring up at the ceiling, you hear clothes rustling and look back over to your right, seeing Ghost start to stir in his sleep. Just a few seconds later, he stirs awake, slowly blinking his eyes open. 

You watch silently as he blinks the sleep out of his eyes, and he breathes in sharply through his nose before looking over at you and seeing you staring at him wordlessly. You both blink at each other for a long, awkward moment before he speaks. 

“… Did you, uh… how was your… rest?” Ghost asks, not sure what to say. What exactly do you say, after saving one of your teammates from potential death?

“Good,” You respond, your throat having an odd, small burning sensation when you talk. 

Ghost looks like he’s holding back a few words for a moment after you speak, and after one expectant look from you, he mumbles, “You should really say ‘well’ or ‘fine’ instead. It’d be more grammatically accurate and is more grammatically aligned with the verb ‘rest’.” 

“… Okay?” You blink, thrown off by the unexpected information, “I’ll, uh… keep that in mind, next time someone asks me how my rest was.” 

“You get asked that often?” 

“I only get asked that by you.” 

“Ah.” Ghost nods, looking off to the side for a moment. You’d think he was your dad and you’d just asked him how babies were made with how awkward he was, and you honestly expected the next words out of his mouth to be ‘when a man and a woman love each other very much’ before he hesitantly asks, “D’you feel better? After the whole being-trapped-in-a-freezer… experience?” 

“Experience?” You question, a light laugh evident in your voice, “Yeah, I feel better. I like being warm more than, y’know, being frozen alive. Laying down in a warm bed is nice.”

“I didn’t know how else to phrase it,” Ghost huffs out, leaning back in his seat. 

“So you’re gonna correct me on my grammar but you can’t think of a better word than ‘experience’?” 

“Don’t get smart with me, [c/n].” 

“I’m just saying,” You shrug lightly, wincing a little when your shoulders ache as you do. Ghost notices this and his eyes narrow, but he doesn’t mention it. 

“Then stop trying to sass me.” 

“Sass you? Jesus, fuck, don’t talk to me like I’m some preteen who just found out that they can talk back to their parents.” 

“Isn’t that what you are, though?” 

“No, I’m— you know what? Fuck you. Get out. I hate you. You suck.” 

“That’s a colorful choice of words to say to the man who saved your life,” Ghost raises an eyebrow at you, “I’m still waiting for my ‘thank you’, by the way.” 

“Don’t care, you’re never getting it,” You say stubbornly, making Ghost sigh and stand up. You look up at him as he stands up and try to sit up in your bed, but wince again when you try to move your arms. Still, you attempt to push yourself up, and only relax your weak joints and lay back down when Ghost presses a gentle hand to your shoulder to get you to stop trying to sit up. 

“Don’t,” He warns softly—you didn’t know his voice could get that soft—as he pushes you back down, “Medics said you’re to keep laying down for a bit while you warm up. We’ve gotta wait until your BPM is below a hundred before letting you up.” 

“That’s stupid,” You huff out, though not fighting Ghost pushing you back down. 

“It’s not stupid,” Ghost lightly chastises you, “It’s doctor’s orders. Once your BPM is below a hundred, we’ll know you’re warmed up enough to start gettin’ up and walking around.” 

“… Still stupid,” You grumble, not commenting on the way Ghost’s hand lingers on your shoulder even after you’ve already laid back down. Ghost sighs and kneels down so that his shoulders are level with the railing of your bed. 

“You’re too stubborn.” 

“I’m not.” 

“Yes you are.” 

“No I’m not!” Your light arguing only proves Ghost’s point further, and he knows this, the knowledge of it making him snicker quietly. 

“Uh huh. Sure, kid,” He begins to retract his hand from your shoulder, but upon seeing the disappointment that immediately seeps into your expression once he even barely begins to lift his hand from your shoulder, he immediately lets it rest right back onto your shoulder. 

You both sit in silence for another few moments before Ghost speaks up again, this time a bit quieter and in that same soft tone he’d used earlier, “I tried to get to you quicker. But we needed some time to get your exact location, and when we found it we were a hundred and sixty klicks away, and it was just—it took us… some time to find you.” 

“It’s fine. I understand,” You respond, about to shrug but stopping yourself, not wanting to feel that aching in your shoulders again, “I don’t even know how I let myself get captured, that— that’s probably on me.” 

“You didn’t let yourself get captured, you just did.” 

“Well…”

“Well, what?” 

“I don’t know, I just—” You take a deep breath before continuing slowly, “I didn’t let myself get captured, but I also didn’t do enough to fight against it, so I feel like technically—” 

“Fuck the technicalities about how you got captured, you got captured either way, and you got thrown into a freezer,” Ghost cuts you off, talking quickly, before sighing and continuing in a softer voice once again, “Please, just let me try to be somewhat comforting for once. You know I’m bad at this, and that I never do this. So just… don’t talk about what happened like that, if not for your own mental health’s sake, at least for my attempts at making you feel better.” 

You open your mouth to say something else but ultimately close your mouth and let out a deep sigh through your nose, not saying anything, letting Ghost continue to talk. 

“I, for whatever reason, feel… very oddly bad for you,” Ghost poorly explains, before pausing to think for a moment then rephrasing, “Not… not as in I pity you, but as in I feel bad for you in a way that I feel like I’m at fault for what you went through even though I know I’m not at fault. It’s like empathy but… worse. Not saying empathy is bad to begin with, but this is like if empathy was bad and it became worse and—” 

Ghost cuts himself off with silence and lets out a frustrated huff at his inability to put his feelings into words, and tries again, “I feel bad for you in a way that I don’t know what exactly you felt or how you felt in the moment that you were in that freezer but just the idea of you being in there without me for… I’m assuming an entire hour, if not longer, makes me feel like I failed. I don’t know what I failed at—”

Ghost quickly pauses before sighing and continuing, “Actually, no, I do. I feel like I failed at protecting you. Which is strange, because that’s technically not my job, but I felt—and still feel—obligated to protect you especially and that bothers me. Not bothers me in a sense that I don’t like you or the thought of… protecting you, but bothers me in the sense that I’m not supposed to feel like that. No amount of teasing, or borderline bullying, or anything should’ve ever made me feel obligated to think of you like— like— like…” Ghost trails off, leaving you wondering what he meant to say. He stays silent for a few moments, before you try to fill in for him. 

“Like… what, a kid?” You offer, watching him shake his head negatively. You think for another moment, before trying again, “… Like your kid?” 

Ghost nods affirmatively, hesitantly, and you want to scoff at the hesitation. 

“And what, that’s bad to you?” You ask, your words more venomous than you intended. Ghost sighs and nonverbally shakes his head negatively before responding to you.

“Not bad in the way you’re thinking,” He answers, before elaborating upon seeing your confused expression, “It’s bad not because you’re bad, it’s bad because I’m bad.” 

“… No you’re not?” 

“Yes, I am.” 

“No, you’re really not,” You insist stubbornly. 

“Please don’t be stubborn with me on this,” His tone makes it sound like he’s almost begging you, which is… somehow beyond terrifying to think about.  

“I’m not being stubborn, I’m being honest, you’re really not.” 

“But I am,” He sounds like he’s trying to make his tone sound like there’s no room for any further arguments, but he fails, and you continue to argue with him. 

“No you’re not!” The whole conversation feels like a parallel to the one you’d both been having just a few minutes earlier, except this time you’re not giving up as easily, “How are you bad?” 

“I’m—” Ghost pauses for a moment, not having expected that argument, and he weakly argues, “I just am!” 

“You’re not, and you fucking know it!” 

“Okay, well—” Ghost sighs and looks away from you, “You might not think so. That’s fine. But I know I am. If not for anything else, for you. I’d be… terrible as any sort of… I don’t know, role model to you.” 

“Jokes on you, you’re already a role model to me.” 

“I’m being serious.” 

“So am I,” You raise an eyebrow at him, “You aren’t a terrible role model. A little emo, sure, but not terrible.” 

“I’m emotionally and mentally unstable, and am terrible with empathy. I’m blunt, abrasive more than half the time, and I tell the shittiest jokes known to man. I can’t— I don’t show my face to anyone. I expect everyone to act the way I want them to. I’m almost always busy.” 

“At least you’re self-aware,” You brush off, “And, for the record, I don’t know what abrasive means and I can’t tell empathy from sympathy without using Google.” 

Ghost looks back at you in disbelief and stares for a moment before saying quietly, “Abrasive means harsh. And empathy is showing understanding for others while sympathy is pity.” 

“I also like your shitty jokes,” You add on, “I think they’re great. They make everyone else mad so I like them. And some of them are funny.” 

“You find them funny?” 

“Yeah?” 

“That’s…” Ghost blinks at you, eyes a little watery, before huffing out a small laugh, “That’s ridiculous, none of them are funny. I call them shitty for a reason.” 

“Some of them are pretty funny.” 

“Oh yeah? Like what?” 

“The Mayflower one.” 

“… That one?” Ghost asks, tone humorous but still disbelieving, “Out of all the ones I’ve told, that one?” 

“Yes, that one,” You insist, before pausing and holding back a smile while tacking on, “Unless you wanna tell it again to try and change my mind?” 

Ghost thinks for a moment before telling the joke, “If April showers bring May flowers, what do Mayflowers bring?” 

You feign cluelessness for a moment, “What do they bring?” 

“Pilgrims.” The bluntness of the delivery makes you quietly snicker, much to Ghost’s surprise, the laugh not forced or anything. 

“It’s still good,” You sigh, small giggles still escaping your lips. 

“It’s really not,” Ghost sighs, finally retracting his hand from your shoulder to settle it on the railing of your bed and use it to help himself stand up. Once he fully stands up, he looks down at you, and one look at your face makes him want to whisk you out of bed and at least hug you, but he knows he can’t with your sore muscles and still-somewhat frozen skin. 

Instead, he opts for grabbing one of your hands gently and giving it a very emotionally charged squeeze, and holding it for another few moments before letting go. 

“I’m not forgetting that, by the way,” At Ghost’s confused eyes, you tack on, “You confirming earlier that you think of me as your kid.” 

“That—” Ghost stammers for a moment before saying, “That was barely a confirmation, that was just— that was nothing.” 

“Oh really?” 

“Yes. Yeah. Yep.” 

“So if I told you that you saying that that was nothing is making me a little bit upset…” 

“… Then I would say, out of pity, that I did mean it and that it was a confirmation.” 

“Good to know,” You nod. 

“But that’s only a hypothetical.” 

“Right, yeah, of course.” 

You both stay silent for another moment, the silence now a little less awkward, before Ghost says, “I’m gonna, uh… head out, now.” 

“Alright,” You hum simply, watching as Ghost nods to you as a sort of ‘bye’ before heading towards the curtains in front of your bed. 

Before he can exit, you quickly and quietly say, “Thank you, for saving me.” 

He pauses, a little confused on why you chose now to thank him—and why you thanked him at all—until he quickly recalls earlier in the conversation when he’d mentioned expecting some words of gratitude. 

He smiles behind his mask, the smile evident in his voice as he replies to you, “No problem.”

[luveline]

you're writing for bradley!! i am so so excited!! could i request just some domestic fluff with shy!reader and bradley? maybe her coming home from a long day and he's just the perfect boyfriend with a glass of wine and a hug ready for her? love u gorgeous 💗

thank you for requesting, babe, I absolutely adored writing this and him, let me known if you have any more!! —bradley helps you feel better after a bad, long day with wine and a multitude of hugs. fem!reader 1k

You push into your apartment, a ground floor slotting of sandblown terracotta tiles and wooden shutters weakened by termites, and pause. There's something wrong, a humming sound. 

You take a step back toward the door and slide your phone from your pocket. 

Hi Bradley, where are you? I think somebody has been in my apartment. Should I worry? you text him. You've continued a streak of politeness with him even now, too shy to dip into the familiarity you feel when he's holding you close over the phone. You follow it up quickly. Don't worry, I'm sure it's okay. Do you know what time you'll be coming over? Any time is OK.

"It's me!" Bradley calls with an easy chuckle. Couch springs creak as he jumps up, and a second later he appears in the living room doorway with a frankly breathtaking grin, shoving his cell into his pocket. "I'm coming over right now. Holy shit, would you look at you?" 

You hold your bag closer to your side, hair not nearly as neat as it started that morning, the day's chaos etched into the small wrinkles either side of your eyes. "Me?" 

When he smiles, it's all white top teeth and joy. For someone who's been through so much, and who works so hard, he's a shaken bottle of fizzy happiness whenever the moment allows —you barely have time to put your bag next to the rack of shoes (and there, his shoes you must've missed toed off and perfectly aligned with your sandy flip flops) when he's crossing the hall in quick strides and pulling you into an ecstatic embrace. 

"Hey," he says, kissing your cheek, moustache not scratchy but far from soft. It rubs a wonky trail as he kisses without goal. Kiss on your nose, your cheek, close enough to your eye to make you cringe and back away. 

"Hi, Brad," you say breathlessly. 

You need time to prepare yourself for seeing him usually, his sudden closeness catching you off guard. You struggle to make any sense of how much he likes you, but you've given up denying his attention. You want it too badly. 

He doesn't stall at your obvious (embarrassing) flustering; he doubles down. His arms like steel cords behind your shoulders, Bradley noses at the side of your face, his breath warm on your cheek as he says, "Sorry, I thought surprising you might be nice, but I didn't think about your nerves." 

"My nerves," you say. 

"Your bad nerves. You're flighty." He gives it another press, the straight line of his nose digging into your cheek before he pulls away. 

Bradley doesn't give you time to miss his arms around you. He makes for the kitchen, notices you aren't following, and grabs your hand. Tugging, he takes you into the kitchen and elbows open your refrigerator, revealing a better sight than what you'd seen this morning. 

"I had to go out again when I saw your fridge," he says, ducking down to push aside what looks like the makings of your favourite meal to unearth a pretty bottle of red. "Sweetheart, when you said you had a shitty breakfast, I was picturing, like, half a grapefruit. Did you eat anything?" 

He only knows what you'd texted him, shitty breakfast code for the found half of a cereal bar in your jacket. 

You don't like to text Bradley too much in case you put him off, but today was bad, and you know he doesn't mind. He'd told you so only a few days ago. His hand full of your stomach, hot under the collar, you can't remember what you'd been talking about initially, your memory intricately busy remembering the planes of his tightly muscled torso and the feeling of his weight atop you, but suddenly he'd been leaning down, brown eyes pleading. "You can talk to me," he'd said. "About anything. I want to hear it. You know that, right?"

So you texted him somewhere around lunch time and had been delighted to find him puttering around doing a whole lot of nothing. He's been keeping himself busy on leave, staying fit, helping your elderly upstairs neighbour put together her new chest of drawers between half marathons and surfing, regular dreamboat stuff. 

I think I'm having a bad day, you'd said. What are you up to, Brad? Can I still see you tonight? 

Why do you act like I'm not obsessed with you? he'd text back immediately. Kidding. Kind of. What's wrong? Can I bring you lunch? 

Raincheck on lunch? I don't think I'll have time. I'll explain later if that's OK. Miss you. 

Miss you too, baby. I wanna hear all about it tonight.

You blink up from his hands to find him staring at you worriedly. You're in your own head, exhausted and a little muddled after such a long day, and he clearly doesn't like it. 

"Is wine gonna make you feel worse?" he asks, tapping your thigh with his knuckles. 

"Definitely not," you say.

"Before dinner?" 

Your smile turns sheepish. You want the wine much more than the dinner, but if you get both, you won't complain. 

He leans back against the fridge, arms crossed, the neck of the wine bottle held precariously in a confident hand. "Sure you're okay?" he asks. 

"I will be." You take a brave step forward and look up into his face. It's difficult to grasp what it is he sees in you when he's like something out of a movie, all brains, brawn, and bleeding heart. You don't get it, but he wants you, and he's here. "Thanks for coming over, Bradley." 

"This shtick again?" he asks, raising his brows. 

"This shtick again," you repeat, grinning at the implication. 

He hooks your ankle with his. "Thanking me for coming over is like thanking a fish for swimming. Couldn't stop myself if I wanted to." 

Your laugh is a wheeze. Brad does you the generosity of pretending you've made a more intelligible sound and pulls you in for a one-armed hug, rubbing a rough up and down into your side. It's such a nice feeling to be tucked up under his arm that you can almost forget how badly you want a glass of wine. 

"Want the big glasses from the top shelf?" Bradley asks knowingly. 

"Yes. Please." 

[loveandleases]

OKAY - I JUST FINISHED THE DEMO AND I AM HERE TO YEET MORE ASKS, YOU BOOTIFUL MADAME XD Of course, I'll ask one by one, so not to compile all the asks into one box in case it gets too cluttered.

SO FIRST ASK:

Omegaverse + rela situation and MC (regardless of omega, beta or alpha) ends up creating a 'nest' out of the ROs' clothes because they had gone on a long business trip, causing them to roll in it and just bask in it until it got them into a heat/rut.

Just what would the ROs do, especially with their instincts going rampant? 👀 Bonus: Imagine the RO coming home and immediately MC pounced them.

For the more submissive MC: Could lead to MC straddling them and started grinding and bouncing, begging and pleading with teary eyes and flushed cheeks, hands on their ROs' chest as they just started humping them with that hungry gaze in their eyes.

For the more dominant MC: Could lead to MC pinning them (not too hard though, in case the RO needs to push them off) and be growling, panting or just ends up kissing their neck, giving little nibbles and barely resisting the urge to bite and break the skin before breathily asking if they could do it now or if MC should hold back to prevent scaring them.

Regardless - how would the ROs react to this? (Feel free to select which vers of MC each RO deals with XD)

😊 I'm just going to imagine myself as a short lil ghostie now. Below the cut!

❤️ Cam - (Dom MC) He's troubled, not because he doesn't want MC but because he doesn't think he can get naked quick enough. The sounds and nibbles will make Cam go feral. The last thing he wants between them is clothing. He will want to mark MC, his lips claiming every inch of their bodies, his hands leaving scratches on their thighs. There would be so much push and pull between them, their bodies will be so sore I wouldn't recommend walking the next day if possible.

💙 G - (Dom MC) G would be scared at first, since G is in such denial about what they want (MC and being in a more submissive role). MC would have to take it a bit slow with them, there would come a point where G is ready and wants nothing more than to be with MC. Being pinned by MC alone will cause their little cool act to falter. (they think its so hot they need a minute to breath for reasons)

💚 Kara - (Sub MC) She is eating this up. To think MC wants her this much is a boost to her ego, she will try and slow MC down though. She wants them to enjoy this, the fact that she will give them permission to keep going, to get right to the edge, and then she would stop. It would be a very long night for them.

💛 M - (Sub MC) First M's brain is going to need to buffer. Because thinking that someone like MC could want them this badly alone is enough to throw them for a loop. But an MC grinding on M's thigh is going to fluster them so bad. Especially since thigh riding is one of their kinks. They have trouble taking it further because seeing MC in such a position just stirs them up. M will eventually give in, they can't take it anymore. They won't be able to look MC in the eyes when they ask for sweet release.

💜 Isaac - (Dom MC) They'll be conflicted, even in relationship stage. It will be hard for them to learn to let MC in even in that way. Do they give in, do they wait. Do they allow that barrier to cross and not look back. You would think MC asked them the meaning of life with how hard they consider what to do. Isaac will need a moment to regain their senses until they realize this is what they want. That to be close to MC in any stage takes work, and its work they want to put in. So pin them, bind them, as long as it's the two of them together.

🖤 Ardent - (Sub MC) Ooh someone is impatient. Ardent is getting off on this, a whimpering MC is like putty in his hands. Ready to be molded, and ready for him to punish in his own way. That would be a moment he finds them the most beautiful. Someone wanting him of all fucking people. Patience is a virtue that MC would be learning that night, because Ardent will refuse to allow MC the satisfaction of getting off until he has thoroughly drained them dry. But the aftercare will be so so worth it. (expect him to keep a stash of things for mc to make a nest out of again, because he finds it so damn attractive.)

[bellafragolina]

Congrats on emptying your inbox!! If I may request, we've seen the s/o with Hanahaki, but what about Emmet and Ingo, separate please. It's another case of miscommunication, Emmet says nothing because you're in a relationship, a bad one that you're about to end, and Ingo says nothing because he thinks you're in a relationship, you aren't. With a happy ending please ;-;

so it's the boys spitting flowers?? i gotcha!

🍓🍓🍓

Emmet:

White hyacinth. Emmet twirls the flower between his fingers, scowling at the soft petals, speckled in blood. Of course, symbols of regret, that would be the flower chosen to encase his lungs and strangle him. Guess he is regretful, since he's let you run off into the arms of his worst enemy.

Sure, Emmet had no clue your boyfriend even existed before he became your boyfriend, but that didn't mean Emmet couldn't absolutely despise the guy. He does, very much so, and doesn't really try to hide it either. Emmet isn't good at lying, especially to you, so sadly. . . he's pushed you away a bit with his rivalry (one-sided rivalry at that).

And thus the flowers.

Emmet crushes the hyacinth in his palm, throwing it off into the living room. Not being able to breathe that well prevents him from going to work. He can't breathe because he can't confess his love to you. He can't do that because you're in a relationship. With a guy he hates. One he knows doesn't treat you half as good as Emmet would, if you were together.

The whole situation is a circle jerk of frustrating. And devastating. The white hyacinths make more sense now, because if there is one thing Emmet's feeling right now, it's a whole lot of regret.

A buzz gently knocks Emmet from his head. Begrudgingly, he checks the message, only to shockingly find your name displayed.

Coming over.

Plain and simple, a cut to the chase, but nerve-wracking all the same. Emmet rushes to tidy up and not look like he's dying, hands shaking as he paces and wonders what's happening. Did you want to hang out? Or was this some sort of intervention? Were you going to tell him you didn't want to be friends anymore?

That would kill him before any damn flower.

Emmet frets and worries, but still rushes to hug you when you throw open his front door. Your arms easily slide around his waist, soothing the worries and the flowers that make his chest feel so tight. Everything almost feels normal again, but then you pull away.

There are bags under you eyes, lines on your face that make you look far older than you are. The sight of them crushes Emmet's heart, but before he can even say anything, ask if you're alright, what's going on-

"I'm breaking up with him."

There's a self-assuredness to your voice that makes it seem so final, so simple. You're breaking up with your boyfriend, plain and simple. It's everything Emmet's been hoping to hear and then some, but he can't find it in him to be happy. Not when you look so tired.

"I. . ." Emmet swallows, struggling for the words to say. Would anything make this better? "I'm sorry."

You just shrug, and give him a sad little smile that cracks his already crushed heart. "Eh. It's whatever. He's a real son of a bitch, anyway." Your smile grows into more of a wry smirk. "But you already knew that, huh?"

Emmet ducks his head, almost ashamed, if not for the amusement that dances through your tired eyes.

"I need to listen to you more often." You say, chuckling. Emmet chuckles too, then it's quiet. Too quiet. You clear your throat to break it. "Do you. . . wanna hang out?"

"Yes." Emmet says immediately. He does. So badly. He missed you a lot. "I missed you. A lot."

That has you laughing, louder now. "Yeah?" Your smile is warm, as warm as the hand you curl around his. "I missed you too, big guy." You tug on his arm, so Emmet leans down, giddily accept the kiss to his cheek. "Come on. I've got a lot to make up to you."

"You do not have to." Emmet says, already dragging you out the door. He feels like he can breathe again. "But since you are offering, you will date me, and we will call it even."

You laugh, and the sound is perfect, especially when his own laughter, free and unhindered, joins in.

Ingo:

Ingo decides if there's one flower he doesn't like, it's tulips. Damned, horrid tulips. They fall out of his mouth, bell-shaped and yellow, stained with his sin of loving someone he can not have. He knows their meaning, knows how the spell out how hopeless he is, hopelessly in love, unrequited love.

But why is he to blame for that? How could he not fall in love? Everything he ever wanted fell into his lap, a perfect gift from those above, and what? Ingo wasn't supposed to see it? Wasn't supposed to grow close, to finally feel understood and like he could have the future he always dreamed of?

What did he do to deserve it all being snatched away from beneath his very feet, leaving him to stumble along where he thought he had a solid foundation.

Well, it isn't your fault either. You are everything, everything he ever wanted in a partner and then some. Days are lighter, easier, something to look forward to just because you're a part of it. Even a simple text from you could make his day amazing.

But you don't feel the same. No, instead there's another person, someone bolder, with less hang ups, someone not as hopeless as Ingo, who was able to ask you out. They didn't worry about anything, not like Ingo.

And now he has to bask in the consequences of being a hopeless, cowardly romantic.

At least you still hang out with him. At least Ingo still gets your presence in his life, not at all hindered by this partner of yours. You don't talk about them at all, perhaps to be kind to a man you no is drowning in a love you don't return.

But that's okay. Ingo will drown for you, if it means this simple happiness will stay.

Still, his body doesn't enjoy it. His lungs swell like they're going to burst, making it hard to breathe, hard to still be a Subway Boss to the people. He stays home some days, when the pain is at its worst, and just lies in bed, dreaming of a life he can't have.

And he wakes up to your hands in his hair, your tearful eyes peering at him from over the edge of the bed. It's a heartbreaking sight.

Ingo can barely croak out your name in concern.

You sniffle. "Emmet says you're dying." Ingo presses his lips into a thin line. He was sure Emmet didn't know, but maybe he did. He needs to apologize; this isn't something he should have to watch his twin go through. "Ingo. . ."

"I'll be okay." Ingo says, the quietest you've ever heard him. It doesn't help your tears, springing forth into full sobs that not even Ingo can soothe. "Shh, shh. . . It's alright."

"It's not!" You protest, shaking your head from the ghost of his clammy hands. "I love you and you're dying! In what world is that alright??"

Ingo just blinks up at you owlishly. ". . . what?"

"I love you." You tell him sternly. "I love you. I love you. I love you. Can you hear me now?" You press your mouth against his sweaty forehead, practically shouting it out to all of Nimbasa. "I LOVE YOU! So no, this is not alright-"

You're cut off by a hand on the back of your neck, bringing you down into the sloppy kiss of one ecstatic and delirious Ingo Trevithick.

You'll laugh about it later, Ingo is sure. You'll all laugh about how silly this all was, how silly you all were. But until then, Ingo will take the first full, deep breath he's had in ages, and sob into your mouth in utter relief.

Seems he isn't so hopeless after all.

🍓🍓🍓

ta-da! i did my best to follow your guidelines, so i hope you like them!

ciao!

~Renee

[cafedanslanuit]

i think i got an ex but i forgot him + isagi, bachira, chigiri, kunigami, sae, rin, reo & nagi

♡   —   tags/warnings: gn reader + no pronouns, a bit of drama because the topic is exes after all but it's not angst, pettiness, jealousy, slightly unhealthy coping mechanisms but nothing too tw

♡   —   a/n: aaaaa this is my first blue lock hcs, i think! i was going to post another one first but this came to me suddenly so here you go <3 hope u enjoy it!

♡   —  masterlist

ISAGI   ―   i... im sorry but he’s the type to ask you to reconsider the break up,  whether it ended badly or not, no matter who was in the wrong. you see, he has a plan on how you can really make it work this time around! it only works if you carefully follow these steps and new guidelines, of course. worse part is it actually makes sense, and you could foresee a better relationship you got along with his plan. he's pretty convincing so you might take him up on that idea. however, if you don’t, he will accept it and try his best to move on, which is focusing intensely on his training to try to keep his mind away from you.

BACHIRA   ―   tries to be friends. just because the relationship didn't work out, it doesn't mean you can't still spend time together as friends, right? friends go on dates sometimes, all friendly, of course! nothing wrong with a couple of friends staying in for a movie night, cuddling, or sharing dessert in a nice little cafe. if he takes your hand, it’s only out of security, so please don’t think he has any ulterior motives! …anyway, it takes him some time to adjust to the new reality of your relationship but still, he will try his best to support you as much as he did when he was your boyfriend. if it ended badly, he'll still try to be as friendly as possible, but a couple of snarky remarks may fall from his lips without him being able to do anything about it.

KUNIGAMI   ―   he’s very respectful about the whole ordeal. after everything is said and done, he texts you a couple of times days later, genuinely asking how you're doing and it’s very clear he cares about your answer. if you need anything from him, he will offer his help, no questions asked and no retribution needed. after all, he still cares about you, even if it didn’t work out between you too. if the relationship ended badly, he will still be very respectful towards you but try his best to avoid you. a nod and a greeting is all you will get because, soon enough, he will pretend someone is calling him and he’ll go his own way.

CHIGIRI   ―   for a good couple of months, he’s going to be very uncomfortable around you. what haunts him the most is how difficult it is to get used to the change of dynamics between the two of you; now he’s not sure on how to act or what he’s allowed or not allowed to say anymore. if it ended badly, it's very likely you'll be on the receiving end of some ill quips and snarky comments about you, hitting you just where it hurts. he'll deliver them with the most unamused face, his eyebrow slightly raising as he waits-- no, as he almost invites you to take him on the fight. and if you do, be ready to lose.

SAE   ―   the moment you decide to call it quits, he completely walks out of your life. from that moment on, you won't hear from him ever again. doesn't matter how fast you check your phone after you've said your goodbyes, you're blocked on all social media platforms, both public and private. to make things worse, your shared google photos album is gone and you're even banned on the official *team* account. hell, he’ll even report the photos of the two of you together so they’re taken down from your account too. doesn't matter if it ended on good and bad terms, only time you'll ever see him again is on a promotional ad for his soccer team on the street or something alike. if he’s asked about you on interviews, he’ll only say it’s not “relevant” and ask for the next question.

RIN   ―   like his brother, he doesn't take it well either. he's the type to go through your social media at least once a day to see if you posted anything new, and if there's any nrw information he can get from it. so far, he's learnt you've been going out clubbing more often and that you've had a pizza date with one of your friends. he recognized them because on the photo, he could see they were wearing a ring, same ring that shows up on a photo of you too circa 2015. if you have an anonymous questions social media, he miiiight ask you on anon why did you break up with him. only for fun, it's not like he truly cares about your life, evidently. all of this happens while he ignores your greetings in person, feigning he doesn't hear you. you'd never catch him yearning to have you back, and he's gonna make sure of that.

REO   ―   new year, new model, baby. the best way to get over someone is to get someone else-- at least for him. he might’ve begged you for another chance at first, but once you make him understand you’re truly done, he lets his petty side come out. a couple of days after your final talk, you will have a front-row seat to mysterious instagram stories featuring two drinks, another one with two movie tickets and, of course, a photo taken from the passenger seat of himself driving one of his fancier cars. the way his forearms flex underneath his expensive shirt really gives the photo the edge it needed. but, is he truly dating someone else? probably not. but he’s going to spend every resource he had to make you think he’s replaced you. even if this may all seem unnecesarily mean, he's also the quickest to agree if you ever want to try again. whisper sweet words close to his ear and he's back to his righteous place by your side in no time.

NAGI   ―   it’s heartbreaking how he acts like he couldn’t care less about your breakup. it seems like the heart-to-heart conversation that ended in you sobbing against his chest while he stroke your back in silence never happened, because when you see him a couple of days later, he raises a hand and greets you, just like he would any other day. to nagi, he’s taken the best decision and is acting the best in an already shitty situation, whether the breakup was amicable or not. he really doesn't want to waste his time in pettiness and resentment, especially after getting to love you for as long as he did. however, his actions may unadventerly hurt you and give you a false image on what’s going on in his heart.

[kiirschtein-archive]

⋆ 「 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝. 」 ⋆

toji's tired and doesn't feel like hearing you run your mouth in the passenger's seat of his car. so you find other ways to occupy yourself.

pairing. — toji fushiguro x f!reader

word count. — 893

content. — nsfw (18+ only), established relationship, daddy kink, toji's a lil mean (duh), pet names (baby, babygirl, little girl), finger sucking, masturbation (f), brief mention of penetrative sex.

notes. — i have toji brainrot so bad rn y'all it's not even funny. so i had to write this while working tonight LMAO i just needed to get it out of my brain. hope you enjoy <3

It’s late, and the back roads are lit up only by the headlights as the two of you skirt around curves in his expensive car. You’d bet money that you’re going well over the designated speed limit, because Toji, despite being exhausted from a long day, is still fulfilling his habit of being on the brink of reckless driving. The air is cool where he has the driver’s side window down to let the smoke from his cigarette stream out, and he’s silent as you seemingly burst with energy next to him.

You’ve been rambling on for a few minutes now about something you’ve been particularly excited about as of late, chatting your tired boyfriend’s ear off without realizing it. The low hum of the radio hardly even gets to make itself known beneath your continuous jubilant speech.

“And I can’t believe that—”

“Baby,” Toji’s voice is raised just the slightest bit to overpower yours, cutting you off before you can go on. You watch as he inhales and exhales his final breath of smoke, flicking the cigarette butt outside and rolling up the window. “Can you do daddy a favor and shut your fuckin’ mouth for a minute?”

You can finally hear the radio now that silence sweeps over you and you’re able to absorb the nonchalant harshness of his words. It doesn’t affect you too badly, however. He’s always like this. 

But narrowing your eyes into a half-hearted glare, you declare coldly in his direction, “You’re mean.”

The both of you know that you aren’t exactly heartbroken, nor are you entirely serious with your angry pout and juvenile words, so Toji speaks just as apathetically as before, “Yeah, well cry me a river over it, little girl.” He reaches a calloused hand over to roughly squeeze at your knee. It hurts a little, and there’s no smile from him nor a laugh, but you’re fully aware that it’s his way of being somewhat sadistically playful, attempting to dismantle any potential hard feelings.

Toji loosens his grip but leaves his hand there, letting you feel its warmth against your chilled skin. His fingers are so large and picturesque in a rugged sort of way, thumb stroking absentmindedly as his gaze continues to pierce ahead at the road. It’s so quiet that you suddenly feel the urge to be a little impish; maybe there are other things you can do with your mouth besides talk.

Taking him by the wrist and forearm, you guide his hand up to slide two big fingers between your lips, soaking them in the saliva that freshly pools in your mouth. He tastes like salt and nicotine, all too familiar against the flat of your tongue, and it prompts you to start a gentle suck. Toji smirks and huffs at the feeling of your hot mouth around him, muscles flexing but resisting the impulse to fuck his fingers forward until the tips hit the back of your throat. Instead, he lets you occupy yourself with your ability to take full control.

This new sense of quiet is oddly like music to his ears, only interrupted by the occasional suckling noise and the tiny hums you make in between them. “That’s a good girl,” he drawls and praises with a wicked smile on his face, pressing his fingers down against your tongue for only a moment and stealing a glance over at you as he does so. Then he starts to laugh. "Shit, I shoulda had you doin' this ten minutes ago. Shuts you up nice and good, doesn't it?"

You remove his hand long enough to take a breath and reply, perhaps with a hint of defiance, “Yes, daddy.” It makes his cock twitch when you say it like that.

Toji chuckles again. "That was a rhetorical question, babygirl, but I like where your mind’s at." He never intended for you to stop sucking or being quiet, but he’s too delighted to be bothered by it in the least.

After another minute of working until your tongue is almost sore, the heat between your thighs has increased to an intolerable amount, leaving you yearning for more than just the solution to an oral fixation. You weasel a hand down to work through fabric until a fingertip can gather some slick and swirl it around your clit, causing your cunt to clench and throat to moan around Toji’s fingertips. His head turns to look as you do so, jaw slack, and the car swerves a bit after he loses his focus on driving.

“Fuck, baby, you’re gonna run me off the road.” He grits his teeth and pulls his fingers from your mouth, gently gripping you by the jaw as he takes a moment to correct the steering wheel. Once on another straight path, Toji looks back over at you stroking your clit and presses his thumb past your lips and onto your tongue. You look at him with furrowed brows and moan, drool now spilling down your chin. 

“Screw this,” he mutters, deciding he’s finally had enough. Within a second he’s pulling the car off the side of the road without warning, throwing it into park and undoing your seat belt with haste.

It doesn’t take long for him to have you sitting nice and pretty on his cock, and he’s not complaining about the noise this time.