#he is getting a little UV as a treat

[ceticalys]

he is a little shy, but herbie is grateful for your support ♡♡ ty for liking my art guys!!

[jacqcrisis]

Ronan's standing there, watching this, glad there's a pause on the whole sex thing cause otherwise Astarion wasn't making it out this room unravished, the other party members be damned.

[sturncrazy]

New Camera 🔥

Matt Sturniolo x y/n (fem)

warnings: SMUUUUUTTT NSFW 18+ (umm lots. use of camera/recording, dom matt, degrading, slapping, language, daddy kink, slight choking, unprotected, creampie, j very rough)

authors note: so this won the vote for which y’all wanted first! ask and u shall receive! this one is FILTHY AND KINKY so if that’s not ur vibe, uve been warned…also side note, i feel like this goes without saying but, i write mostly unprotected… guys pls don’t actually do that. wrap it before u tap it🫶 ok luv u!! enjoy!!

summary: your boyfriend matt gets a new camera before going on tour and decides to experiment with it on you…

word count: 2,270 w

~you look good on camera baby let’s go make a film~

—————————————————————————

your phone buzzed on your desk.

“be over in 10 babe ❤️” read a message from matt. you went back to fixing your makeup in the mirror, wanting to look your best for your boyfriends last night home. Matt was about to leave to go on tour tomorrow and it would be a month and a half before you got to see him again. even though you were excited for him, you wanted to make sure it was extra hard for him to leave you. after swiping on some lip gloss, you rummaged through your closet and landed on a thin white tank and flannel shorts. comfy, but still cute and showed just the right amount of skin to hopefully get his attention. your doorbell rang and you ran to answer it.

“hi, beautiful” matt said, pulling you in for a kiss.

“hi” you said smiling at him, the chill from outside hitting your mostly bare skin. he closed the door and walked in. his eyes gave you a once over as he took off his coat.

“you look hot” he smirked

“oh yeah?” you replied coyly, turning to head back down the hall.

“yeah. some shorts” he chuckled out, blatantly checking out your ass.

“what these?” you teased, bending over slightly

“don’t start with me, y/n” matt came up behind you and slapped your ass, playfully but hard. the two of you walked to your room and you flopped on your bed, reaching for the remote to your tv. matt followed and unzipped his backpack, rummaging through it and pulling out a box.

“whatcha got there?”

“bought a new vlog camera for tour!” he answered, excitedly

“wanna see?” he sat down next to you, showing off the new device.

“oooo fancy” you knew nothing about cameras, but pretended to be impressed since matt was so enthusiastic. his fingers whizzed around the buttons.

“it’s got awesome quality and it’s so easy to use” he continued, the machine chirped as he hit the red button and pointed it at your face.

“matttt” you whined, covering your face with your hands.

“what are you being camera shy?” he snickered, standing above you continuing to point the lens at you.

“cmon show me that gorgeous face of yours baby” you huffed, dramatically and lowered your hands looking up at him.

“that’s my pretty girl” he cooed, making a smile toy at the corners of your mouth. you could never say no to him. his eyes flicked over you behind the camera and you tried to read what he was thinking. he licked his lips and backed up, silently, getting a wider view of you in frame. you stayed put on the bed.

“take your top off” he stated, flatly.

“matt-what—?” you nervously laughed out

“did i say it was a question? take your top off” something about the harshness of his tone was so out of character it made your heart race. you reached for the hem of your tank and began to lift it.

“damn, baby” matt growled out, lowering the camera to capture your exposed tits. you breathed heavily, unable to bring yourself to move from your perched position on the edge of your bed. your eyes followed as his hands lowered the camera even further to where you had your hands in your lap.

“now your shorts”

“but—matt—im not wearing any underwear” you stuttered.

“and?”

“well you’re filming i mean i—“

“if you’re gonna be a little slut and not wear your panties then i get to treat you like a little slut. strip.” he interrupted, gruffly. you couldn’t help but notice how insanely hot he sounded being so demanding, and hoped he wouldn’t be able to see your already obvious wetness. you reached for your waistband, standing, never taking your eyes off him as you began to lower your shorts to the floor. you stepped out of them and kicked them aside. nervousness spread goosebumps across your skin as you became aware of how completely exposed you were to matt and his camera. this was unlike anything you’d ever done before.

“good girl” matt praised, dryly.

“you wanna give me a better view of that pretty little ass of yours and bend over the bed for me?” you felt as vulnerable to matt’s commands as the machine in his hands. you slowly turned half way and rested your hands on your bed, lifting your ass into better view for him.

“fuck” he exhaled. you could feel him move closer behind you. he brought a hand sharply down against your flesh. you whimpered.

“so sexy” he growled.

“got me so hard just looking at you baby” you turned your head back to look at him. he laughed, sinisterly.

“what? you wanna see what you’re doing to me, slut? huh?”

you nodded, dumbly. he snickered again.

“course you do. get on your knees for me.” he demanded. you followed every order like a well trained dog. you settled down by his feet and looked back up at him, as he readjusted the lens again.

“mmmm you look so perfect from this angle, babygirl” he praised stroking your face gently, before slapping his hand against your cheek just enough to sting a bit. your jaw dropped slightly in surprise, which matt took as an opportunity to slid his thumb into your mouth. you sucked at his digit and he groaned, watching you before sliding it back out of your mouth creating a popping sound.

“take off my pants” he commanded. you eagerly fumbled with his belt and zipper, hooking your fingers around the waste and and pulling slowly. his already rock hard dick sprung out and slapped his t shirt. your mouth almost watered in desperation at the sight of his veiny, practically throbbing, member.

“open your mouth, baby” he exhaled. you looked up into the camera, doe eyed and parted your lips with your tongue out slightly. he pumped himself with his free hand, the tip of his dick just grazing your lips and tongue and then began to slowly insert himself into your warm wet mouth. he ran his hand down your head, petting your hair, soothingly, as you took him all the way down the back of your throat. fighting the urge to gag at his size.

“such a good girl” matt groaned. his pets reached the base of your skull, then latched harshly into your hair. his grip was tight, as he began to thrust into your mouth. you felt tears form at the corner of your eyes as he forcefully fucked your throat. matt let his grasp on your hair go and slid himself out of your mouth. he grabbed your jaw and forced you to turn your messy face to him, getting a clear shot of the streaks of tears on your cheeks and spit running down your chin.

“get on your hands and knees. i need to feel that pretty little pussy of yours” he huffed, patting your face again. you scrambled to the bed, desperate to feel him fill you up. you’d never felt so much heat screaming from between your legs in your life. you arched your back, letting matt have perfect access to your dripping folds. matt dragged a finger down them, teasing you and eliciting a loud whine from your lips.

“soaking for me already huh, slut?” he mocked. all you could do in response was whimper.

“so pathetic for me” he taunted, pressing two fingers against your entrance.

“matt—please—“ you breathed out in agony

“camera can’t hear you, baby. be a good little slut and beg louder for me.”

“Matt—fuck—-please—i need your dick now—“ you cried out, the need for contact almost eating away at your brain. you screamed as matt rammed into you, entirely, and without warning. the unprepared sensation of stretch caused a pleasurable pain to radiant through you. he groaned, finally feeling your wet pussy around his torturously hard dick. he began to relentlessly pound into you from behind, filling the room with deafening slapping sounds intermixed with your screams and his grunts.

“MATT—“ you cried out, overwhelmed by his intensity, collapsing your face into the pillows beneath you.

“what? ” he wrapped his free hand around a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back up.

“don’t act like you can’t handle my cock now, slut.” he snarled, not letting up on his unwavering rhythm in and out of your core. he slapped your ass again.

“understand?”

“yes matt” you wheezed. he slapped your ass again.

“yes, who?”

“fuckk—yes, daddy” you sobbed out

“good girl” his thrusts hit your g spot each time, making your legs shake and stars form against your tightly squeezed eyelids.

“you wanna show me how much you love my cock, princess?”

“yes, daddy” you hardly could think straight

“bounce that perfect ass on my cock, baby” he said, slowing his thrusts. you obeyed and began to rock your hips back and forth, fucking yourself on his dick.

“good girl. doing such a good job” he sang out, one hand gripping your flesh while the other captured your movement on film. you whimpered again, your hips stuttering.

“you tired, princess?” you nodded and let out another pathetic sound.

“need daddy to take over again?”

“yes—oh fuck—please daddy-“ you managed to mumble out. Matt pulled out of you abruptly, causing you to whine at the loss. you couldn’t move anymore, but the last thing you wanted was for him to stop fucking you. he slapped your ass again

“turn over” he growled

“i wanna see your pretty face when i cum in your pussy” you felt like you could cum from his filthy requests alone. you’d barely even landed on you back before matt slammed back into your throbbing entrance. he struggled to keep his balance momentarily, too desperate to feel you around him again. he kept one hand supporting himself upright and the other still holding the camera, pointed at you as his picked back up his steady thrusts.

“so perfect—look ss-so good—with my cock stuffed inside your little pussy” he huffed out between thrusts

“OH—fuck—yes—your cock feels so good, daddy” you moaned out, helplessly. your eyes rolling back into your head. matt’s free hand wrapped around your throat, constricting your breathing perfectly.

“watch me while i fuck you, slut” he growled.

“yes, daddy” you wheezed out against his tight grip. he removed his hand and you gasped for air. within moments of his dick pounding perfectly back against your sweet spot, you felt your orgasm begin to crest.

“FUCK—IM—“ you panted.

“that’s it—good girl—cum all over daddy’s cock” he ordered. your walls clenched and throbbed around him uncontrollably, causing him to let out a string of curse words. you felt his dick begin to twitch deep inside you.

“ohh-hh-fuck—shit” he stuttered out, his thrusts becoming wilder and less expertise.

“mmm—close—“ he groaned, his jaw dropping slightly.

“mmmm fuck yeah cum inside me, daddy” you whined out, your high still settling.

“shit yeah baby? you want me to fill your little pussy?”

your brows knotted and your nodded your head desperately.

“fuck i’ll fill you up—so full of cum—baby you’ll look—-so perfect—spilling out of you” he huffed

“OH FUCK FUCK BABY IM GONNA CUM” he cried out as his whole body shook. he thrust deep into you one last time, halting as his cock spasmed against your walls. releasing a multitude of spurts of his hot white load. once matt seemed to regain his senses, he clicked the red button again—ending his taping. he pulled out of you slowly, making your legs shake. he glanced down at your trembling sensitive entrance leaking his release in pulses and bit his lip in a satisfied smirk, snapping one last photo of the mess he’d made of you.

“MATT!” you laughed out in embarrassment, shutting your legs and rolling onto your side.

“sorry…i had to. too hot not save” he said, smiling and flopping down next to you.

“are you okay? was that too much?” he asked, pushing your hair out of your face.

“no way. i loved that”

“you swear i wasn’t too rough with you?” he said with worry. you shook your head vigorously

“not at ALL! that was HOT” you replied through a smile. he fought a grin, biting his lip clearly extremely pleased at your enthusiasm.

“so can i ask what inspired the camera?” you questioned.

“well, now on tour i can reminisce what it’s like to fuck my crazy hot girlfriend” he smiled at the ceiling.

“hey!” you slapped his chest playfully “you know you can always facetime me and we cannnnn” you dragged your words out, looking off into the distance above his face in teasing suggestion.

“oh don’t you worry, we’ll have phone sex all the time. this is just for when you can’t call me and i need to…y’know” he glanced down at his crotch.

“jesus, how many times are you planning on jerking off” you teased

“twice a day. minimum.” he matter of factly stated, grinning again.

“MATTHEW!” you scoffed out in shock

“What? not my fault you’re so sexy” he laughed, leaning in to give you a peck on the lips.

“yeah yeah whatever. just NEVER show that to anyone”

“are you kidding me? you think i’d ever let anyone else get a look at you like that? nhhuhh nope.” he shook his head dramatically

“only i get to see how perfect you look getting your brains fucked out” he leaned in, kissing you playfully again. you giggled, feeling a slight blush.

“i love you, you freak” you said against his lips.

“i love you more, baby”

—————————————————————————

ok y’all were on to something with wanting this one cause WHY DO I LOVE IT?? rly hope everyone likes it ahhh 🫶🫶

also guys imagine matt accidentally posting the wrong video and posts ur tape instead of a car video?? HAHA

[froggiewrites]

hello i wanted to request a comfort fic with Law,Zoro and Sanji with their s/o being depressed,stressed

thanks in advance

Hi, sorry this took so long! This is the first time I've written a few smaller scenarios instead of one larger fic and I've gotta say, I really enjoyed it. It was a nice change of pace! So thank you for requesting this 😊 I hope this fic brings you the comfort you need, and that you're doing well!!

Hard Times

Pairing: Law, Zoro, Sanji x Reader

SFW

Summary: You've not been yourself lately, and he's been worried about you. Warnings: Mild Hurt/Comfort, Fluff Word Count: 1.7k total (a little over 500 each)

It didn’t take him long to notice something was wrong. There was a subtle change in you, something a less observant man would have missed. But you always had his attention, and he knew you well. You were a bit slower to respond, your eyes a bit unfocused, your smile less bright. He tried to tell himself it was nothing, that you were just a bit tired, but after the third time of finding you in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, he knew that you needed some more support. He was more than happy to be that support.

Law

Law is a deeply caring man, despite his attempts to appear otherwise, but he is also, unfortunately, terrible at showing it. So he doesn’t talk to you about it, not directly. He instead racks his brain, thinking of every possible way to reduce stress and ways to treat depression. His instinct is to opt for medicine, but he knows he should start smaller first.

“I have a gift for you.” He places it in your hands unceremoniously, trying to hide his delight at your small smile. That’s the most joy you’ve shown in days.

“Thank you, Law! That’s really sweet of you.” You carefully peel back the wrapping paper he had spent far more time than he would admit on, only for your face to show confusion. “A…lamp?”

“A UV lamp.” He says it as though the purpose is obvious.

“Okay?”

“It mimics sunlight.”

You blink at him. “I–you didn’t clarify anything.”

He shifts on his feet, eyes focusing anywhere but you. “We’re down on the seafloor a lot, so you can’t always go on deck for sunlight. And I think some sun will help you.”

Your eyes narrow as you try to put the pieces together. “Why?”

“Sunlight boosts serotonin production.”

You make a soft sound of understanding, before you give him a smirk he would normally hate to admit made his heart skip a beat. “You were worried about me.” You say it like it’s such a victory, like it isn’t something you expected. Clearly he had failed you somehow, if you thought he wasn’t always fretting about you. He typically tries to deny such things, the vulnerability making him feel unsure and small, but you were worth feeling a little weak.

“Of course I was worried about you.” He spits it, like it was so very obvious, and you laugh at him. Normally he would prickle, his defenses growing higher, but that’s the first time he’s heard you laugh in over a week. He would never admit the sound brought a tear to his eye, the relief tearing through him like a hurricane. He can’t help shifting forward, his hands cupping your cheeks as he checks to see if you’ve regained the sparkle in your eyes. It’s dim, but it’s there. He can’t resist kissing you.

You accept his warmth quickly and easily. You practically fall into his arms, nuzzling into his neck when your lips part. “You don’t have to worry. I can handle it. It always passes eventually.”

He sighs, kissing the top of your head. “Just because you can handle it on your own doesn’t mean you have to. You aren’t alone in this. You have me. You have the crew. We’re here for you, whatever you need, whenever you need it.”

Your voice comes out much quieter this time. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“You aren’t.”

“...You promise you’d tell me if I was?”

He chuckles. “I promise.” He gently takes the lamp out of your hand, places it on your desk, and guides you to your bed. “Now tell me everything you need to get off your chest.”

And, to his relief, you do.

Zoro 

Zoro is blunt. He doesn’t know how to dance around your feelings, and frankly, he doesn’t care to. The faster he breaks through your reluctance to tell him what you need, the faster he can help you, and the faster you’ll be happy.

“Why aren’t you asking for help?”

You jump, not having heard him come in, too busy struggling to ground yourself. “What?”

“Something’s wrong. Why haven’t you come to ask for help?” He’s still dripping with sweat, having just come from a particularly intensive workout that was a failed attempt to distract himself until you finally broke and came to him. He can see you try to avoid his eye, so he gently grabs your chin and steers you toward him. He tries to make his voice gentle, sweet in a way he can never quite nail. “Sweetheart, talk to me. I just want to understand.”

You still avoid looking straight at him, even now, but you finally speak. “I…didn’t want to be a burden.”

He can’t hide his obvious confusion. “Huh?”

You finally look at him, not understanding his reaction. “What?”

“Who cares if you’re a burden for a while?”

You look shocked, “I do!”

“Okay, well no one else does! Everyone is a burden sometimes. No one can do everything on their own. The crew’s job is to help each other.”

“None of you guys have ever been a burden.”

“Were we not a burden, or were you just happy to help?”

You open your mouth to argue again, but he can see the exact moment you realize you really have nothing you can say. You can’t deny helping your crew has sometimes made your life harder. He’s seen it countless times. Your Captain alone has gotten you into dozens of situations you could hardly think about without wincing. But you were always happy to help, and a burden shared is a burden halved.

“Everyone here is happy to help you if you need it. All avoiding us does is make us worry.”

You seem to shrink in on yourself. “I’m sorry.”

He pulls you close, chuckling a little at the discontented noise you make when you realize he’s still sweaty. You squirm halfheartedly, but it doesn’t take long before you snuggle into his warmth. He can feel the muscles in your back slowly start to relax under his hands as you accept his touch. “No need for apologies, sweetheart. Just fix it. Talk about it.”

You hold him tight. “I don’t know exactly what I need. Everything’s just…hard. I don’t remember it always being this hard.”

He tries to ignore the way his heart breaks at how pained you sound. He instead focuses on the positives: you’re here, you’re talking, and you’re willing to accept help if it comes. “It won’t be this hard forever. I’ll be right here to make it a little easier, alright? And you can talk to Chopper for some help, too.”

“...Do you think I should?”

“I think that’s up to you. But we’re here. That’s what matters.”

You spend the rest of the afternoon in Zoro’s arms, and if he sees you sneaking to Chopper’s office later, he doesn’t mention it, though his relieved smile might give him away.

Sanji

Sanji is very in tune with your emotions, often realizing you’re upset before anyone else, and sometimes even before you register it yourself. It’s not uncommon for him to suddenly appear, food and drink in hand, ready to pamper you to your (or, maybe more accurately, his) heart’s content. So you don’t seem to suspect a thing when he starts setting up picnics for you on the deck, each dish carefully prepared to boost serotonin production and the drinks designed to reduce stress and anxiety. You’ve probably had more chamomile tea in the past few weeks than you’ve ever had in your life. 

He sets up the picnic blanket in the perfect location: enough room in the shade for you to rest if you get too hot, but positioned in a way that encourages you to soak up the sun. As you eat, he oh-so-subtly encourages you to talk, maintains skin on skin contact as much as he can, and observes everything he can to improve the next one.

You sit blankly for a while, letting him do as he pleases but not reciprocating, before you finally speak, your voice much flatter than usual. “Sanji?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Why are you doing this?”

He freezes. “Why am I doing what, angel?”

You shift in his arms, forcing him to look you in the eye as you do so. He can’t help but brush a stray crumb off of your cheek, his thumb tracing down to your jaw. You gently catch his hand in your own, squeezing it. “These picnics aren’t just little dates, are they, Sanji? Something is clearly wrong.”

He doesn’t know how to explain he’s worried about you without you feeling pressured to speak. He doesn’t want to push you if you aren’t ready, but he can’t stand to sit by and watch as you drown in your own head. “I–do you have anything you want to talk about?”

“What?”

“You haven’t been yourself lately. I just thought…you could use something like this.”

You seem to relax a bit. “So you’ve been worried about me?”

“Yes. I didn’t want to push you, but you clearly need some help, darling. I was hoping I could make this a bit easier for you.”

You give him a real smile for the first time in a while. “Is this why you’ve been sneaking me so many little treats? And why you’ve been so desperate to keep me away from caffeine?”

He tries not to flush. “I thought you could use a pick-me-up. And I read getting better sleep can help with mood.” He pulls you closer, pressing your face into his neck to hide his redness from you. “I was hoping it’d make talking about whatever’s wrong a little easier for you.”

You snuggle into him, accepting your warmth. “Talking about it is always hard. Everything is, right now.”

“Are you willing to try? I think it might help.”

He can feel your sigh. Your reluctance. But slowly, carefully, you unfurl the tension you’re holding, and you allow him to carry some of your burdens for you. You talk for hours, about everything, including things you were clearly frightened to speak aloud. By the end, you may not be perfectly happy again, but he can see your steps are a little lighter. He’s never been more relieved.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @saturogojosgirl @dreamcastgirl99 @tochillwithamockingjay

[swordsandholly]

Fancy

Ch 3: The Wheels of Fate Started to Turn

Previous | Next | Ao3

MDNI

Vampire!Poly 141 x Fem!Plus Size!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: A permanent darkness rests over the city. You’ve lived here your whole life - in the slums, just another human to be pushed and pulled at the whims of the vampires that run it. Another human made to bleed and crawl their way through a meager life.

Maybe, just maybe, a meeting by happenstance will change your fate for the better.

You feel sick when you wake. Muscles weak and body shaky. It takes more effort than you would like to peel your eyes open. You haven’t sat under a UV lamp in a while and it’s starting to show. The cocoon of sheets feels so good you don’t want to get up, to peel yourself away from them.

You realize Johnny and Kyle are gone as you sit up, all alone in the center of the massive bed. The room feels darker without them, somehow. Emptier. You roll over to climb off the bed, interrupted by the sound of paper crinkling under you. You feel around the mattress only to find a thick envelope with ‘Fancy’ neatly written across the front. As you open it, your breath catches in your throat at the contents. It’s nearly double what they said they’d pay. More than you could have ever hoped for. It makes your hands shake to hold that much money all at once. Once the shock wears off, a folded up piece of paper catches your eye.

Hey lovie,

Sorry to take off without saying goodbye. Had some business to attend to. Figured we should let you sleep. Hope you won’t be too mad ;)

We left a little extra for spending the night. Nothing like cuddling up next to a soft, warm lady.

Let’s do it again soon.

Kyle + Johnny

The handwriting changes to a messy scrawl that you have to squint to make out.

P.S. You look bonnie in my shirt. Gonnae be thinking about that all day. Feel free to take it with you.

P.S.S. I want it back unwashed.

You can’t help but snicker to yourself. Damn dirty dog.

You have no reason to deny him, though. So you slip the t-shirt on over your dress as you get ready to leave. The dress feels far too constrictive for the early morning. This is why you don’t do nights - walking out looking like a mess in the itchy day old clothes. You give up looking for your panties which seem to have evaporated, not too keen on putting them back on anyway.

Before you can tip-toe your way out to the front door, you find yourself pausing. The kitchen light is on, illuminating a figure working over the stove. Curiosity gets the better of you and you circle around the counter to see John sorting ingredients in nothing but a loose pair of sweatpants. Strong, nicely hairy chest on full display.

And they call you and slut.

“Good morning.” He flashes you a bright smile. Of course he noticed you. He probably smelled you before he even heard you leave the bedroom.

“Sorry… I, uh, didn’t mean to intrude.” You mumble awkwardly.

“No, no. I was hoping you’d stop f’me. My boys treat you alright?” He eyes your shirt.

Being asked that a second time throws you off. Why the hell do they care so much? “They did.”

“Good. Good.” He smiles warmly. “I’ll make you some breakfast.”

You scoff. “You? No offense but I’d rather take my chances with the nearest dumpster.”

“Contrary to popular belief, some of us remember how to cook.”

You glance at the half-dozen cart of eggs and perfectly fresh vegetables neatly arranged across the counter. “And you just happened to have human food on hand?”

He pauses. “…I may have had some delivered.”

John turns back to the stove, muttering something under his breath about ‘too smart for her own damn good.’

You pad over beside him to look down at the food, staring at the spread. You point at some red thing you don’t recognize. “What is that?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “The tomato?”

“Tomatoes are purple.” You poke it. “And more squishy.”

You meet his eye and for a brief moment, you think you see pity. Something sad swirling in the blue of his irises. He schools his face back to neutral before you can be sure you saw anything at all.

“Well, hopefully you trust an old codger like me to make you a half-decent omelette.”

You snort, leaning back on the kitchen island. “I’ve got nothing to lose.”

You both lapse into silence. He does seem to know what he’s doing - carefully chopping the vegetables and carefully folding the omelette in the pan. Maybe he had a human wife at some point or something. Most likely. That’s not uncommon, especially back in the 21st century. Practically a trend. You tilt your head as you watch him move, brow furrowed. He’s so weird.

What could you have said to them to make them treat you like this? You’re almost afraid to know - that block of time so buried in the recesses of your mind there’s no hope of ever recovering it. That doesn’t mean you haven’t tried since that day, but you know we’ll enough that it never works. You don’t have a single guess as to what it could have been.

Maybe you didn’t say anything. Maybe they’re just weirdly tunnel visioned. Vamps do that often enough - hone in on a target of affection. For any reason from looking like a dead loved one or they just have an enticing scent. Except they’re not usually this… nice. Normally they’d just drain the object of their affection and be done with it. Not ask them to sleep over for the night and cook them breakfast in the morning.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when a plate is set in front of you. It looks… perfect. At least you assume that’s what a good omelette looks like. Nicely golden. It looks alien. Food from another world - another time. You glance up at John as he watches you expectantly. It won’t hurt to entertain him, you suppose. Even if it does end up being shit. You cut a small bite, tentatively bringing it to you your lips. You brace for something awful.

Except it’s incredible. Perfectly cooked and seasoned. You can’t help but let out a content little hum before practically scarfing it down. You haven’t had food like this in… ever, actually. Neither this fresh or well made.

“So you like it?” John smiles.

You nod happily with a mouth full of food before remembering where you are. Steeling yourself and slowing down, returning to the more reserved persona. “It’s good.”

John huffs out a laugh, turning his back to you to clean up. “I’ll drive you home when you’re finished.”

You pause mid bite. “Oh, no, I can take the train-“

“Do you really want t’walk all the way to the depot in those heels?” John cocks an brow, blue eyes dragging from your face, over your body and down your legs. There’s a slow burning intensity in the movement that sends a shiver down your spine.

You stare at him for a moment, uncertain of what to do. The last thing you need is to owe a vampire for anything. They’ll take your debts to the grave. It happened with your neighbor once - you learned early on to be wary of any offer made by one of them. Never make a deal with one of the devils.

“You won’t be indebted for it.” John chuckles as if he can read your damn mind. Maybe he can.

You chew your lip. It’s at least an hour walk to the metro station from here. You don’t want him to see where you live, though. It will ruin the illusion. Images flash through your mind of the craggily walls of your apartment building. The syringes that line the sidewalk. There’s that massive blood stain on the front steps they still haven’t cleaned up after five years.

But then you meet his eyes. They’re so sincere. So bright. Whatever that tug is in your chest that keeps giving into them pulls again. It’s unraveling you, making you insane. Surely that’s it, you’re finally going insane.

“Okay.” It comes out weaker than you’d like.

John grins a though you gave him the greatest gift in history. It makes your face hot - leaves you shifting awkwardly. You’re not used to that much emotion carved into their marble features. This coven is too expressive. It’s putting you on edge, leaving you with your guard up. Against what, though? What’s the point? Shouldn’t you be happy and play into their more excitable nature?

It’s too unfamiliar. Too otherworldly to see human emotion on their god like features.

A cool finger hooks under your chin, lifting your face to meet John’s gaze. “You think too much.”

You scoff and tear your face away from his hand. Thinking keeps you alive. The girls that don’t think don’t survive past their teens. You have to be smart to stay alive here. To even have a hope of keeping up with creatures who contain centuries of knowledge and experience. Who are so far ahead in the race the best you can do is limp along in the dust.

A valet pulls the car around. John changed into jeans and half zip sweater. You would die before admitting to the small bit of disappointment at him donning a shirt. You expect the black SUV from the night before to pull up. Instead, you’re met with a basic sedan. It’s still nice - obviously new. The seats are a soft, well cared for leather.

“So is this what you do? Invite prostitutes over for omlettes and tea and then drive them home?” You blurt as John starts the car. That itch to dissect their thought processes continues to plague the back of your mind.

“Tea?” He repeats, a brow raised.

“Simon made me tea last night.”

John laughs. “Kyle really did fuck your throat raw, then?”

You whirl on him, eyes wide.

“Don’t act so surprised. Johnny can’t keep his mouth shut to save his life. Said you took it beautifully.” John sighs. “Bit jealous I didn’t get to watch the show. A good cigar and whiskey in hand? The perfect night, I think. Might have to recreate it…”

That last bit sounds more for him than for you.

You shouldn’t blush. You’ve been doing this long enough that there’s no reason to blush anymore. You have no right to be flustered over something as simple as sex. It’s the way he says it, you think. The way desire drips from every syllable as though he’s never said anything more true in his immortal life.

You just hide behind a huff and look out the window. “You’re all very weird, you know that?”

“Are we, now?” John rests his elbow on the door and his head on his hand. He weaves through the chaotic city roads expertly.

“You’re too…” You wrinkle your nose, pausing. The word gets lost on your tongue.

“Human?”

“If you say so.”

John chuckles. “You’re just as weird, you know that?”

“I am not weird!” You snap indignantly.

“If you say so.”

You have to do a double take when he pulls up to your apartment. Is it really that fast by car? What was that, ten minutes? The train is a nearly twenty minute ride with two fifteen minute walks. The walk is nearly three hours - two if you take the back way.

“Everythin’ alright?” He asks, voice dropping to a low drawl. You shake your head to clear it, pulling your respirator out of your coat.

“Don’t you need a-“ You stop when you meet John’s deadpan expression. “Oh, right.”

“Appreciate the concern, love.” He chuckles. It’s a surprisingly warm sound.

You reach for the door, respirator in hand and at the ready. You pause when John lays a hand lightly on your shoulder. Turning back, your eyes meeting his. There’s that storm again. The one he looked at you with before. Something roiling underneath the surface.

“Fancy?”

“Yes?”

“Before you go.” John leans forward. “C’mere.”

You assume he wants a kiss. It wouldn’t surprise you - a little thank you for the ride. Frankly, you should have thought of it first. Instead, he ducks his head to the side at the last moment. His hand tangles gently but firmly in your hair to pull your head to the side, leaving your neck craned and exposed. You freeze. Fear takes over - your heart rate immediately spiking. Your hands fist his coat, pushing as hard as you can against the unmoving mountain that is his body.

“John-“ Your voice cracks. “Please don’t-“

“Need t’ make sure you’re safe…” He mumbles.

A fang catches your skin. You freeze.

It drags across your neck, down the arch of your artery. You suck in a hear breath, the skin not quite breaking under the touch. Before you can speak or begin pushing again or even try to get out of the car, he bites down. A yelp escapes you as his teeth slowly sink in - only through the top most layer of skin. Not enough to puncture the artery or even for his other teeth to bite into your skin.

Your whole body shakes. “What’re you-“

John shushes you as he pulls away, eyes locked on the cut he made on your neck. You can feel the wet blood beginning to drip down your neck. His hand stays in your hair, holding you in place. The blue of his irises seems somehow brighter, pupils so narrowed they don’t look to be more than pinpricks. After a few beats he seems satisfied, letting your hair go and sitting back in his seat.

“Just a precaution, love.”The vampire looks you over, eyes suddenly painfully soft again. “Take care of yourself.”

Your eyes flick between his. A cold, rushing fear pumps through your veins. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish before you finally come to your senses, taking the chance to dash out of the car and toward your apartment. Fight or flight pushing away any ability to ask what the fuck that was. By the time you turn around to check behind you, John is far down the street.

You rush to your bathroom mirror, tossing your respirator to the ground as soon as you’re in your front door. It’s not deep. He didn’t even lick up after himself - a thin trail of blood pooling around your clavicle before continuing down. It wasn’t about drinking. You hiss as your fingers lightly test the tender skin.

What the fuck?

He’s a vampire. At the end of the day that’s all he is. No facial expressions or ability to cook will undo that he’s a different creature entirely. Was that what this is about? Reminding you what they are? The power they have? You wouldn’t put it past one of them, the sick fucks. What kind of fool were you to think they’re at all different.

After a shower and finally changing into some pajamas (minus a certain vampire’s tshirt that he will not be getting back) you go to grab your lamp. It doesn’t take long to set up the UV light, just dragging it out of storage and setting up the shade above it so that the rays concentrate downward onto your skin. You slowly sink to the ground. Exhaustion clings to your bones. They feel brittle and heavy simultaneously.

You sigh, curling up under the warm light like a cat. You have to be smart about how long you stay under it - the damn thing runs up the electricity bill like nothing else. Plus, too long under it can cause serious skin damage. As much as you’d rather go without, you’ve seen what happens to those that do.

You half heartedly re-count out the envelope of money, still feeling overwhelmed at the sheer amount of it. At the whole situation at hand. You realize quickly enough that despite having the money to do almost anything you don’t actually… know what to do. Despite the plan being to save up and get out of the slums you never really planned for what to do once you were out of the slums.

The realization that you never truly believed you could do it, even unconsciously, is a little heartbreaking.

Do you keep working at the club? Hope that these clients like you enough to keep up with your new lifestyle? Pray that they enjoy fucking you for long enough to save up? Do you even want to see them after what John just did? Do you look for another job? There isn’t much you can get when the whole of your resume is stamped with WHORE in bright red letters.

With a low groan you slump back on the floor and throw your arm over your eyes. Everything is so fucked. You’re lost in it and it’s all fucked.

Normally, you would avoid information about the people that come in and out of your club. They’re looking for discretion, after all. A place to hide away from the dealings of life. A fantasy. If you were smart, you’d stick with that habit. Especially when it comes to the ones that literally compel you to forget their business.

John just lost the right to any discretion after that stunt in the car.

You open up your shitty laptop that requires five hail mary’s to start. It greets you with the top headlines of the day, all just as enjoyable as you’d expect.

UNKNOWN SUBSTANCE FOUND IN FOUR MORE JANE DOES

NEW DRUG CYTH TAKING THE UNDERGROUND MARKETS BY STORM

CORPSE FOUND WITH BLOOD LEAKING FROM PORES

You close them out, for your own sanity, and type John’s name into the search bar. A few things come up - some company called One-Four-One with the most nothing description about what kind of company they are. They “develop products and services” - aka they’re a shell for shady bullshit. They’re listed as the benefactor for some lower city charities and given responsibility for several mergers and buy-outs in the upper city. All the things you’d expect from a corporation.

It’s too clean, though. You’ve been living in the underbelly long enough to know what a front looks like. Not that you’re surprised. Every vampire corporation is a cover for a million other little inner workings you will never be privy to.

The only pictures of John are a few from press reports. His imposing figure standing behind some ugly podium with a logo hastily plastered across the front. He has a commanding air about him behind all those microphones - like a preacher or a politician. Fitting.

Johnny and Kyle have a far more risqué library. Images with models and other beautiful women. The kinds of things you’d expect from young, playboy vampires stretching over the past century at least, according to the archive dates. The boys aren’t the focus of the images - it’s all paparazzi for the women - but they’re in them nonetheless. How the hell did Johnny manage to squeeze into a pair of leather pants like that?

Simon doesn’t even seem to exist. A total ghost. No matter how deep you go you can’t find a trace of him. You manage to get all the way back to the 1990s in the archive and still come up with jack shit.

You’re left with more questions than answers and a distinct understanding that you shouldn’t ask any of them. You knew that already, though, and you have no plans to let John Price close enough to speak to you anytime soon.

You didn’t realize you fell asleep up until you wake, alarm blaring in your ear that it’s time to get up and go to work. It never ends. You still feel so fucking tired, body heavy and eyes stinging. A haze settles over your mind as you fall into your constant routine. Makeup, hair, dress, respirator on, walk, train, respirator off, walk.

Your locker in the back room fights you, forcing you to practically break it open. Just another thing to leave you feeling angry and useless.

“I heard they got Red.” The girl beside you whispers. She’s mousy, new. A gossiper. She even tried to talk to you, at least before she found out that you apparently steal clients.

The girl she’s speaking to side eyes her. “What do you mean got ‘er?”

“With that new drug - Cyth or whatever.”

“Cyth isn’t real. It’s just people making up shit to cover up what the vamps are doing. As if we don’t already know.”

“But what about-“ You don’t hear the rest of what she says, her voice drowning out as you leave the back room.

Time seems to crawl by at the club without the men. You hate it. Not just the slowness of the day but the fact that they’ve had that effect on you. That these creatures you barley know have invaded your thoughts. Wormed themselves into the nooks and crannies of your psyche. Marked you - however temporarily that may be.

The patrons avoid your eyes. You serve their drinks, and where they would normally make a salacious remark or grab onto you they just offer a huffy thanks and ignore you. The tips are garbage, even the other serving girls notice and begin to basically steal your tables. It has to be the bite.

Why, though? Plenty of serving girls have fresh bite marks and they aren’t getting reactions like that. You can count four on the main floor right now.

At least once the day is over, it’s over. You can go home and hide away. Be angry in peace. Maybe make a plan for what to do. Maybe you can leave the city you and your friends talked about as teens. Except they’re all dead now and you’re pretty sure there isn’t anything outside of the dome anymore. At least not anything you could get to.

The other girls don’t walk with you to the metro anymore. The streets are never truly empty in the main city. There’s no real day or night. It’s only the places humans inhabit that become abandoned during the “night.” As you exit the lower city station, the streets empty out. It’s just you, footsteps echoing off buildings. The smog in the air only makes it darker - even harder to navigate.

Until a second pair of footsteps appears, fast and growing louder by the second. Before you can even begin to run or check behind you a force slams into you, sending you tumbling down onto harsh concrete and into an alley.

You’re cornered. There’s nowhere to go. Before you can grapple for your garlic spray the vampire has your wrists in his hand, pulling you up to dangle in front of him. The backs of your hands and arms scrape against the rough brick of the building he’s pinned you too. It hurts, cutting deep into your skin under the pressure of his strength.

The thing hisses, ripping off the neck guard attached to your respirator. The whole thing goes clattering to the ground. You choke on the poison air, lungs immediately rejecting it.

You tip your eyes to the obstructed sky. Of course it would end this way. It’s the end for you all, isn’t it? Just another body in an alley. Another free apartment for people to fight over. Another headline for people to frown at on the train. You wonder if they would use your name or just leave you as another Jane Doe.

What do the real stars look like, anyway?

He takes a long inhale and freezes in place. You can barely make out wide, frenzied eyes. A hood blocks any of his other features. His breath hastens, chest heaving against yours. What the hell is he waiting for?

Suddenly he reels backward, hissing and spitting. Muttering words you don’t understand. It drops you so suddenly that you collapse to the ground. Unable to gain any footing, still coughing and choking.

“What-“ You’re not even sure why you want to ask it a question. Before you can at all the thing runs away down the alley. Your hand travels up to your neck.

The bite.

A coughing fit sends you doubling over and you blearing grope around the ground for your respirator. At least it didn’t get smashed, you sigh in relief - clipping it back around your face and neck.

Your hands shake and you turn, staring up at that massive skyscraper hanging above the city. It’s taunting you. You feel like you can almost see John staring down at you, toying with you. An anger flares in your body so hot you almost feel as thought you’ve caught fire. He wants to fuck with you? To make you feel weak? To try to lay some sort of claim?

Fine. You can play ball.

A/N: John “you don’t need to know what’s going on, love, just do what I say” Price and Miss “don’t fuck with my independence” Fancy

I don’t love this chapter but I gotta get plot moving and grooving.

[shdo-xplosion]

SLIMEBALL!AIZAWA X READER

Warnings: dubcon, explicit content, aizawa wrestles with his conscience but his dick wins, aloe vera as lube, talk of when reader was his student, almost somnophilia, fingering, p in v, creampie, cum play, fem-bodied reader, reader is white-coded, described as turning pink/red from sunburn

Word Count: 2.1k

Notes: my contribution to the Wet Hot Slimeball Summer collab! thank you to @bastardblvd for letting me join! i’ve been wanting to write aizawa for a little while now and this just possessed me. hope everyone has fun with it, and make sure to check out the masterlist for more slimy content!

He should wake you up, give you a nudge where you lay in your beach towel, but Shouta can’t bring himself to. Not when he has such a perfect view of your body, the arch of your back, the curve of your ass, the way your tits squish out from beneath you, your skimpy top barely doing anything to cover them.

Fuck, he should wake you up. Your skin is already turning pink. You’re going to have painful burn lines that will peel and turn into sexy tan lines, and Shouta has to shake his head to get the image out of his mind.

His sick mind. There must be something wrong with him. You were his student for fuck’s sake, and sure, you haven’t been for a few years now. Now you’re a big shot pro, one of the top 10, but he can still remember you sitting in the back row of his classroom, mouthy, obnoxious, still learning to control your quirk.

He remembers having to tell you to shut your mouth every single day, a mouth that he finds himself staring at more and more, lips parted and pouty, and Shouta wants to slide his fingers between them, feel your tongue on his fingerprints.

But he refrains, just bites the inside of his cheek and looks out at the waves.

The beach houses are nice, other pros having rented a few out for a nice little getaway. There are still heroes in the city to protect civilians, nothing to worry about. All Shouta has to do is relax.

He’s in a house with Hizashi, All Might, Snipe, and you, and his patience is running thin. Between Toshinori’s loud ass voice and Hizashi forgetting to turn on his hearing aids, Shouta is beginning to think that maybe he does deserve a little treat. Maybe he should indulge.

No. No. Ex-student. And the media would have a field day if anything ever got leaked. Not worth it. Definitely not worth it.

But hours later finds everyone back in their respective houses, resting after a long day in the sun. Hizashi and Toshinori are passed out and Snipe has retired to his room, probably also sleeping, leaving Shouta tired but awake, listening to you hiss every time you move.

“Jesus, I haven’t had a sunburn like this since I was a kid,” you whine.

“Should’ve put on more sunscreen,” Shouta replies. Or he could’ve just woken you up. Been an actual good person instead of perving on you in your bikini.

“I meant to! But the sun felt nice, and the waves were so soothing, and I just…”

“Dozed off. Just let all those UV rays cook you.”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t need a lecture, Aizawa Sensei,” you scoff, and the way the old title makes Shouta’s dick twitch in his sweatpants. Fuck.

“You’re right, you’re right. How about I go pick up some aloe vera, then?” he offers. He needs to put some space between the two of you.

“What, I’ll stop whining?”

“Maybe,” he smirks.

Once he pulls on a shirt Shouta leaves and makes his way down to the little shop at the end of the street. All it sells is beach stuff, but lucky him, that’s all he needs.

One bottle of overpriced aloe vera and a meaningless chat with the cashier, and Shouta is on his way back to the house. He wonders if you’ll lather it on in front of him. Maybe you’ll even ask him to help.

The lightweight shirt you had put on earlier must be too much for your raw skin because you’ve gotten rid of it, walking around in a t-shirt bra and little shorts. Have you gotten even redder?

“Oh, thank god.”

“Let me throw it in the freezer for a few minutes,” Shouta says, pulling the bottle out of your reach when you practically lunge for it. “It’ll feel better cold.”

“But Aizawaaa,” you pout, sounding a lot like a petulant child, crossing your arms only to whimper and drop them back to your hips.

“It’ll be worth it. I promise.” Without giving it much thought he hooks a finger under your chin, thumb flicking your pushed-out bottom lip. When you don’t recoil from the touch, he fights to keep from pulling you closer.

Unfortunately, you don’t ask him for help when you apply the cold cream to your skin, but Shouta is granted a look at your hardened nipples through the material covering them, the icy aloe making you break out in goosebumps.

“Thank you for getting this,” you say genuinely. “It’s gonna make my nap so much easier.”

Shouta has always been good at hiding his emotions, so you aren’t able to see the disappointment he feels as he watches you retreat to your room, the green bottle in hand.

It’s fine though because an hour later he finds himself creeping in after you, eyes locked on your sleeping form. You’re lying on your stomach, likely to avoid the burn on your back that you weren’t able to reach. No blankets are covering you, the heat from your skin keeping you well warmed.

The bottle of aloe is on the nightstand, and Shouta reaches for it—room temperature now, and squirts some in his hand.

He’s doing you a favor, he reasons with himself. Your back is an ugly (beautiful) red, and he wants to help soothe you.

His hands on you don’t wake you immediately, just make you sigh and snuggle further into your pillow. Shouta gently rubs the remedy over you, as careful as possible. You feel so nice under his palms, so warm and smooth, the dip of your back calling to him. He could make you arch further, make your hips roll and buck. Your shorts ride low, waistband just above the swell of your ass, and Shouta wants nothing more than to rip them off, but he resists. Instead, he rubs up your sides, slowly and purposefully, fingers barely dipping beneath the elastic of your bra so that he grazes the sides of your tits.

That makes you stir, eyes slowly opening as tired little noises make their way out of your throat.

“”zawa?” you ask quietly, and his self-control breaks.

“Shh, just relax,” he tells you in a low voice. “It’s okay, m’just taking care of you.”

He sees your eyebrows furrow, and you try to roll over, but his strong hand presses against the small of your back to keep you from turning.

He unclasps your bra, squirts a generous amount of aloe between your shoulder blades, and begins working again. At first he thinks you believe that his actions truly are innocent. You can’t see or feel how hard he is in his sweats, how precum is already beading at his tip.

That belief is shattered when he moves his hands upward again, this time sliding under you to cup your tits.

“Aizawa!” You push yourself so that you’re sitting up awkwardly, but all it does is make it easier for him to grope you and press his lips to your shoulder.

“You don’t have to pretend you don’t want this,” he drawls, smirking into your skin. “I haven’t forgotten about your little schoolgirl crush.” Because as much as you may have annoyed him in class, you still looked at him with hearts in your eyes. It was easy for him to deduce that all your smartass comments were just to get his attention.

“That doesn’t mean…” You trail off when he pinches both of your nipples, pulling a quiet moan from you.

“Just once, sweetheart. You owe me after teasing me the last few days.”

“I wasn’t…”

“Walking around in your short little dresses, prancing around with these pretty tits falling out of your bikini tops.” He gives you a tight squeeze before letting go of the plump flesh in order to trail his hands down further. “Let me have you just once.”

You only resist a little when he pushes you back down on the bed, face down again. You’ve lost your bra, and Shouta is quick to pull your cotton shorts down your legs, revealing that you’re wearing nothing underneath them.

He groans, groping your ass, bouncing your cheeks before spreading them to show your folds.

“Such a pretty cunt,” he growls, running a finger down your slit as far as he can. You’re already wet for him—such a good girl—but he still wants to get you slicked up and messy.

Shouta grabs the bottle of aloe vera once again, covering his fingers with it then slowly pushing two of them inside of you.

“Ahh, fuck, ‘zawa,” you gasp. With your cheek against the pillows, Shouta can see the way your mouth opens, eyes wide as they flick around to whatever you can see. Your body is tense, but you aren’t fighting him, thighs parting a little more.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he purrs. You don’t respond, just bite your bottom lip. Doesn’t matter. As long as you let him touch you he’ll be a happy man.

Pumping his fingers, Shouta stares at your reddened skin and gets the idea to mark you, presses his fingertips into your flesh then pulls them away, admiring the light circles they leave behind. Mesmerized, he grips your ass with one hand, squeezing to create those same marks just under the curve.

“Fuck, you’re sexy.” He punctuates it with a spank that makes you jolt, but you quickly melt when he curls his fingers a certain way. “You ready for my cock, baby? I’ll be gentle. I know you’re sore.”

A lie. He slicks himself up with more aloe then thrusts into your heat all at once, stretching you on his fat cock and holding you in place when you squirm.

“Y-you said… nnfuck.”

“I know what I said, but your pussy is just too—” he snaps his hips back and forth, eyes rolling in his head. “Too sweet. Can’t help it.”

Shouta tugs you up so that you’re on your knees, back pressed to him, and he knows the friction is hurting you, the coarse hair on his chest chafing your raw skin, but at this angle he can reach in front of you to play with your neglected clit, massaging it with two fingers.

“‘zawa let me… at least let me ride you,” you plead.

It’s a tempting thought, but… “you feel so good like this, though. So warm, taking my cock so well.”

He presses a hand low on your tummy, swears he can feel his dick moving, but he gets distracted when you let your head hang back to rest on his shoulder. Opportunity presents itself with your neck so open, and Shouta wraps his fingers around your throat, just barely squeezing.

He’s so deep inside you, cockhead nudging your cervix. Ohh, he wants to fuck you so full of his cum, wants to see you sprawled on the mattress dripping with him, wants to see you ruined.

Words stick in your throat, but your lips are moving like you want to say something. Shouta pants in your ear, “what is it, baby? What do you want?”

“Wanna—wanna cum,” you whimper, and now Shouta knows that you’ve fully accepted him. You’re not mad at him for fucking you, no. You want this. You want him.

“Cum, then,” he growls, nipping your earlobe. “Cum on my cock, I wanna feel your pussy—”

Your back arches painfully, sensitive skin pulling taut as you cry out and cream all over him. Feeling your cunt contract around him, Shouta fucks into you harder and deeper, using you like a rag doll as he gets lost in your climax, climbing to his own.

He’s not sure he’s ever cum so hard in his life, thick lines shooting from his dick and coating your guts. Shouta bites into your shoulder hard enough for you to yelp and try to slap him away, but all of his muscles are so tight that even his jaw is locked. His hips stutter as strings of white keep shooting into you, your used cunt so full of him that it starts leaking back out of you.

When he pulls out, Shouta scoops some of his cum out of you, dazed as he smears it down the pink of your spine.

“What the hell are you doing?” you ask breathlessly, falling forward onto the mattress and glaring.

Shouta shrugs his shoulders. “Aloe works just as good as lube. Maybe cum’ll work well as aloe.”

“That’s disgusting.”

So is he. But at least he finally learned to relax on his vacation.

2023©️shdo-xplosion. please do not plagiarize or repost my work to any other platforms.

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Mission Failed

Simon “Ghost” Riley x M!Reader x John “Soap” MacTavish

Last Edited: 17/03/2023

TW: slight angst, foul language, violence, blood, gore, gunshot wound, death mention

@denzellovehazelnuts: Hi! hope you have a good day! Can you do a poly "Ghost x male reader x Soap" (if you comfortable writing poly relationship) with slow burn, angst and fluff at the end? Where Ghost and Soap already in a relationship until the reader came into their team The two male thought the reader wasn't talkative around people but few weeks later, things change at first Ghost seems interesting in the male skill using gun and how fast he can run and Soap like the male sense of humour. Both of them thought it only a friendship type of things. Until the male save Ghost from the enemy on the battlefield and him laughing at Soap jokes. That when the two males known what happen to them, they weren't sure if M/n would comfortable in a relationship with them, so they start doing small things for him like making coffee or helping training,.. And M/n notice it, he even started to fall for the both of them. But he keep denying the things they did for him because he thought that what friend do. and M/n don't think he is ready for a new relationship, he wasn't sure he is good enough for them (the male got trauma from the previous relationships) (more angst please, I would like to suffer for a little bit) (・∀・) After a while, the three of them got into a mission together, everything went good until the male got shot. He thought he going to be de@d soon (only to find out that he only got shot at his leg) so M/n confessed how he feel about the two of them. (andddd I don't know what to do with the ending cause I'm ran out of idea. I would want to see how the treated each other when got into a relationship. Sorry about the grammar, English isn't my first language)

Word Count: 2,654

AO3 LINK -> HERE

Notes: hiiii! i dont do heavy angst but i did do some u know? slow burn it is!!! srry it took so long! irl things hold me back a lot. N since u wanted slow burn, n with all that uve put (about 350 words of things i can work on/with 2 get this drawn out as a full-on fic!! yay!) i had 2 like. try n put all u wanted in there so yea! hope u enjoy!! also! i threw in some other characters like gaz n roach. hope u dont mind em being in here since this is like, a mash of cod n codmw2 (canon? what cancon?) cause i rlly do wanna put some other characters in here that i find interesting n build some sort of character/personality 4 the reader. reader deserves some cool friends-2-brothers!

At first, you hadn’t wanted to join Task Force 141. You were comfortable with your position as the quiet, but light on your feet, knife specialist. Well, that wasn’t truly your title. You were just good with knives. You weren’t too shotty with a gun either. Either weapon being in your hands meant blood was going to be shed. KorTac needed those types, especially those who could use it to get in as well as out; you also couldn’t forget about using your skills to get information. Torturing the prisoners wasn’t something you particularly liked, but you were good at it too. Combining your skills with knives and guns, it truly was hell for anyone on the opposite side of your team. You also couldn’t forget that, out of the others, you were much faster. Sure, some could still beat you at times but that didn’t mean you weren’t good. Bets had been constantly taking place with you, along with others as it was one of the few things any of you could do to pass the time in a less-than-bloody manner.

The transfer from KorTac to Task Force 141 wasn’t smooth. Horangi, or Kim Hong-jin, didn’t let you go for weeks. You were part of his team, one of his men. The leader of KorTac is what most of you saw him as. He knew many of you like the back of his hand. Not to mention, a tiger can be cruel but would never devour its cubs for no reason, well, as some say. As far as you knew, because you were all together, you were a team and therefore family. While there were others who didn’t get along, out in the field, all of you had each other’s back. Very rarely did anyone get left to perish to the enemy.

With all that in mind, it took weeks for him to let you go. More or less, Laswell was the one to convince him; that is if you call bringing each plus every person in KorTac to ruins as “convincing”. She wanted you on a team she could keep tabs on you; doubting her power and skills was out of the question. Which meant leaving KorTac to ensure that everyone else was free from possible imprisonment or death was necessary.

Fitting in wasn’t too hard considering most of the people there were from all over the place. While it’s odd for a member from another team to suddenly appear on another, it didn’t bother most of the others. Just from a glance, you could tell who was into who; as well as who exactly was in a relationship. A man by the name of Ghost including another called Soap, you knew were together. Soap flirted with almost everyone, though it was more teasing and lighthearted. With Ghost though? The flirting went up by twenty percent. His dial for teasing went up tenfold too. Meanwhile, Ghost hardly looked at anyone else, nevertheless, stare at them unless they were the Scottish man. Frankly, you didn’t mind. Who were you to judge the two? Especially when they were good at what they did.

It takes weeks before you’re comfortable enough to so much as talk to anyone 141. Gaz, or Kyle as Soap tended to call him when annoyed, is the first to so much as approach you. While the others are interested, you coming from KorTac had put them off for a bit. Gaz on the other hand treats you like a brother. He’ll throw his arm around your shoulder, dragging you around as he laughs about the past or even at your jokes. At meals, he always throws a raised eyebrow at those who look at you oddly when you’re quiet or sitting with the man. He treats you like you’re part of the team, furthermore, that truly means more than anything to you.

The man is just as bloodthirsty as you are. His stories of falling out of planes along with taking out enemies only lead to you looking up to your new teammate and brother. His tales of meeting Captain Price, past missions, a few tidbits of him being with the SAS, together with some metals he’s earned, only makes you want to pry more stories from the man; not like you don’t have to try. Simply asking about his stories leads to at least an hour-long spill of them from the guy.

And with his stories comes a few of your own. You don’t share much of them, knowing Gaz spreads them to the rest of the team with more dramatics to try to get you to interact with the others. Something you do learn about him that you always keep in mind from his stories is that his blood type is B Negative and shooting any dog, wild or not, makes him feel a bit guilty; he had to shoot one a while ago and apologised to the poor mutt after having to put it down to finish his mission.

With all that he’s shared and how the both of you see each other as brothers, it’s only fair that you let yourself talk to the others in the team. Though your words are short, along with your jokes being told quickly to distract yourself from the stressful situations, you allow yourself to slowly relax with the others. Gaz’s constant support helps you finally allow yourself to bond with your new team and family. It’s only after a mission that things change. 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“Take the left! Keep your heads down and keep movin’!” Captain Price’s voice rings out in your earpiece. Everything has gone to shit. The intel you’ve been getting was entirely a trap. You’re running through an underground tunnel, Ghost and another man named Roach is running in front of you.

Roach is a quiet man, never talking or letting out a sound, but semi-friendly. From his actions and what you’ve been told of him, he does his best to complete the missions to the tea. The few interactions you’ve had with him were silent but nice. Whether or not he’s mute has crossed your mind time and mind again but you don’t ask; you’d rather leave the man be. After all, he has become something like a friend maybe even another brother.

“Copy. We’re nearly out. Roach and [Redacted] are with me,” Ghost responds, quickening his pace. The rifle smacks against your back as you speed up to keep up with the other two men. Despite the situation, the three of you remain as calm as you can be.

“You’re bein’ tracked like a rabbit is by a hound, Ghost! Move it!” The captain’s orders are clear and the worry is read between the lines. If you three don’t get out, it’s a huge blow to 141. Not only that, but Soap loses his boyfriend, Gaz loses two of his best friends as well as brothers, you three lose your lives, and Task Force 141 loses three of its members. Dying isn’t an option here.

“We have company,” Your words are muffled by your gear but the two soldiers in front of you hear them in their own pieces.

“Fuckin’ hell-” Ghost’s sentence gets cut off by gunfire from behind. Turning around, you fire the Lachmann Sub in your possession.

“We gotta go! They’re gaining!” You clip one of the enemies in the shoulder and another is hit in the stomach. Picking up the speed, the three of you try to beat them out of the tunnel. You cover the back, hoping the two get out before you. If you get surrounded, it’s over.

Thankfully, they haven’t reached the other end of the tunnel as the three of your burst out of the exit. You grab a grenade, pull the pin and throw it in the tunnel. As soon as it leaves your hands, you’re running faster to get to Roach and Ghost before anything else can; one arm wraps around each of your teammates’ necks, dragging them down to the ground as the little metal bomb goes off. Debris flies everywhere, looking for an area to land after being shot out of its place.

With the tunnel exist now collapsed along with no more flying rock and metal, you release the men. “How copy?” Crackles through each of your earpieces. You knock your forearm into Roach’s upper arm, eyes crinkling from your smile. He gives you a grateful nod, standing. You smack Ghost’s arm as he stands, glad to have escaped the enemies for now.

“Tunnel’s collapsed. We’re good. Ready for extraction, Sir,” Blunt and straight to the point are the skull-masked man’s words.

“Good. Heli’s close by. Move to the edge of the town.” With the three of you alive, you can practically feel Captain Price’s relief.

“Copy that, Captain,” Your muffled response comes before Ghost can send in his own. He scans you from the corner of his eye but doesn’t give you a retort. You do, however, hear a small huff of air leave him. You throw your arm around Roach’s neck again, puffs of air leaving you from happiness, meanwhile, his arm comes around your back. Seems the three of you live another day.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

After that mission, Ghost tends to lurk around you more than he originally had. It didn’t help that Soap tends to tag along as well. Thankfully, he finds your jokes hilarious if the loud, boisterous laughter he lets out all the time tells you anything. His teasing ends up piling onto you as well. Before, it was light as well as spread out. Now, it’s almost like he’s talking to Ghost with all the teasing and flirting he now does with you. His boyfriend hardly seems concerned but rather encourages his behaviour. Of course, that doesn’t mean he goes easy on you when the two of your spar together. He’s dead serious when it comes to sparring; it’s only a reminder that while he does good off, he’s just as dangerous as the rest of them.

The two men seem to be fixated on wanting to help you out in training as well. More pointers plus tips are thrown your way when you practice with either of them. Sometimes, they’ll even make you coffee for those sleepless nights. Mentioning such things to Gaz and Roach only leads to your sworn brothers giving you knowing looks or a few teasing words; Gaz is the one with the teasing remarks while Roach pats your shoulder in a mocking but teasing “you poor man” way. Neither seems keen on wanting to spill the tea on why the Scottish and British men have been more affectionate.

While you enjoy their kind gestures, including their company, you’re not sure if you’re ready to admit to yourself, or them, about such feelings or relationships. On the surface, you truly do want to ask them if this is some sort of flirting schtick they have going on. Deep down though, the idea of being with anyone again makes your stomach fill with the lead. How could you enter another relationship? After the last one ended with your soon-to-be fiance’s brains splattered all over a brick wall. How can you move past that? How can you allow yourself to find someone like them? Or even better than them? The answer to that is a sigh alongside a bitter smile. The ring hiding under your tactical gloves seems to burn your skin. Truly, how can you let your first love go? After all, if you weren’t good enough to keep them alive, how can you keep these two from meeting the same gorey end?

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“To think I’d find myself here… How fuckin’ funny,” You mumble. Another mission, this one just like all the others. Well, it would have been if you hadn’t been shot. The blood leaking from your leg alongside a knife wound to your side leave you in pain. Feeling weak isn’t something uncommon but neither is it constantly happening. Words are being spoken to you through your headset. You were to be the lookout but ended up being the enemy's first target.

“How copy?” Rings in your ears. Your eyes stare blankly in front of you. You feel pathetic. Too tired to talk. Too tired to get up. You just sit, popped up against a tree in the heavily wooded area. You’ve failed, failed, failed.

“C’mon, Mate, how do ya copy?” Soap’s voice is worried and winded. He and Ghost are the people you’ve been teamed up with and you’ve failed.

“[Redacted], how copy?” The next tone is Ghost’s. It sounds slightly strained.

“Mission Failed,” You croak, head tilted back and against the tree.

“Status report, Mate. Where are ya?” He’s rushing, possibly panicked now.

“Got two wounds. Gunshot to the thigh. Knife to the side. Bleeding pretty bad, Soap.” You close your eyes, sighing.

“State your location.” The Brit seems to be just as worried as his Scottish counterpart.

“Dunno. Woods. Against a tree… There’s a lot of blood. Feelin’ woozy.” When you open your eyes, your sight is blurred. You’re losing too much blood.

“Keep talkin’ to us then, yeah? You’ll make it out. We’ll get out together,” The Scot’s words, though hopeful, only make you scoff quietly.

“You know… If I get outta here… Think we can go out sometime? Bourbon and whiskey? The three of us?”

“When we get out, [Redacted]. There’s no if here,” The masked man makes it sound final like there’s no way you’ll die on them.

“Yeah… Yeah..” You don’t say anymore, everything slowly hazing away. It’s like your floating in winter with how cold you feel.

“[Redacted]? Don’t sleep! C’mon! Keep ya eyes open!” Soap’s words fade away along with everything else. All that waits is cold darkness.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“So… Think you can handle our drinking date after this?” Soap perches on the side table, messing with a lighter he took from Ghost.

“After he’s healed, Johnny. No alcohol before,” A semi-scolding is all the man gets from the brooding Ghost. You laugh slightly, jostling your wounds. You wince but wave off the concerned looks you get.

“After I’m no longer full of holes, Johnny-boy.” You take a sip of water afterwards, making Soap frown playfully.

“And to think I was gonna bring out the good shit fer ya. A shame. A damn shame.” You gently shake your head. It was a close call but Ghost got to you before you completely bled out. From what you’ve been told by Gaz, who yelled at you for an hour after you woke up from your four-day sleep, Ghost and Soap dragged you back to the helicopter. Both refused to leave your side. Captain Price ended up having to yell at the men and bribe them with a bit of alcohol to get them to even go to their own rooms. You made sure to apologize to Gaz, hugging him tightly after his blow-up. He thought he was going to lose a friend and family member so you couldn’t blame him.

Roach gave you the cold should for a while before appearing in your room with a cup of coffee. He made sure to smack the back of your head for your stupidity as well, though it was hardly rough. You grabbed the man before he could so much as bolt though when he saw you getting up to hug him. He hadn’t pushed you away though. And the captain? It felt like you were a kid again with how he pinned you with his stare. He made sure to tell you exactly how he felt, going from angry, to disappointed, to angry again. Another guy you couldn’t blame anything on. But you get to live another day at least. And you get to have that date with the two guys who were able to grab ahold of your heart after a long-time of heartache and loss.

[princess-of-the-corner]

So I was ranting to my mother about ML and how I hate Chat's lack of importance in the narrative and how he constantly gets sidelined, and after going into the details, she joked that Chat is Ladybug's sidekick.

Which got me thinking (always a dangerous affair). How WOULD things change if this wasn't pitched as an equal partnership? If Chat was purposefully given the sidekick label by the narrative and the characters? For argument's sake, let's say that Marinette had some more direct training from Fu before he sent her loose with the miraculous, but Adrien wasn't Discovered TM until after that time period, so Mari is more experienced and also still has more important powers.

I don't think Chat would feel as much resentment about being edged out and not trusted with secrets, because that's not his job anymore. He'd still be a bit salty about being lowkey replaced by the other temps, but nowhere near as much.

But I also think it might make him take more initiative to prove he can be trusted to do and know shit. Nobody, including him, holds the assumption that he's entitled to the same responsibilities and knowledge, so he might be more active and deliberate in showing Ladybug that she can lean on him. It'd encourage more open communication and responsibility from him, but I think it might also make him kind of reckless and desperate by constantly throwing himself at problems before anybody else gets a chance.

I feel like that may take pressure off Ladybug too. Whenever Chat starts to goof off, I don't think she'd feel as put out or upset about it, because it's not immaturity from someone who's supposed to be putting in as much legwork as her, it's someone she's supposed to be mentoring, so I think she'd treat it more like when Alya or Nino do something silly and dumb. Still "Not the Time or Place," but a lot less "You Should Know Better" happening.

It'd probably change the lovesquare up a little bit too. Not by much, since Chat is functionally her sidekick in canon, but it would add a few more parallels between Gabe and Nathalie, which could be fun. I also think that her being his outright teacher would take Chat's idolizing of Ladybug and crank it up to 10, which would kind of put him on par with how Marinette feels about Adrien in the earlier seasons (they both over-idealize each other in canon, but I think Marinette is probably worse about it).

In general, I think an acknowledgement of that dynamic between them might make their relationship less. . .tense, for lack of a better word. Just. A lot of miscommunication and shit might be cleared up if the two of them had different expectations for each other and themselves in the LadyNoir context.

I also think it might open avenues for Chat to do Fun 60s-Robin-Style Sidekick Shenanigans, which would be VERY entertaining, and it would DEFINITELY change up the tones of the New York special and how they interact with UV and Sparrow.

Idk, just interesting thoughts I had after subjecting my mother to my sleep deprived rambling.

So I do wanna address at first like.

This might just be how it's worded, but it makes it sound like Chat only feels /entitled/ to knowing secrets because he's there while doing nothing to prove himself, and also that him 'goofing off' is a constant problem.

Which is quite the opposite. Chat is putting in just as much effort as Ladybug, he's just given the short end of the stick because...... literally no in-universe reason. Like I've seen some people argue 'it's because Mari turned in the Grimoire to Fu while Adrien didn't', but Adrien took the book and was gonna bring it to Ladybug's attention, he didn't know about Fu. Hell, Mari didn't know about Fu at that point! Tikki told her! For some reason Plagg didn't tell Adrien.

He's even stepped up and asked 'hey please give me more responsibility, even if it's something 'minor'!'. Like offering to help Ladybug hand out and recover the Miraculous from the various temps he knows the identities of. He's just shut down and called a hindrance who would fuck it up.

Meanwhile Chat goofing around rarely causes problems. It /can/ of course, but it rarely does. Usually Chat is able to be both silly and effective, and when his silly nature does cause problems he typically backs off and reorients into focus mode.

But also this really highlights how it's so dissonant in the narrative. Chat is sidelined not because there's any in-universe reason for him to be sidelined, but because the writers want to sideline him

Anyway:

While I think some of Adrichat's frustration would be lessened if he was a 'sidekick' character in the first place, I think there'd be less changes and more just a re-contextualizing of the actions. Instead of 'Hey I'm supposed to be your partner but you're treating me like a sidekick(at best)', it's more 'I know I started as your sidekick but I think I've done enough that I should be respected as a long-term teammate who's been here for nearly every fight over the people who have been in less than i can count on one hand'.

[artdcnaldson]

oh i know we're on the topic of best friends sisters and whatnot but can i offer an absolutely out of left field alternative? best friends brother with dodge

as in ur daynas friend from high school, u guys have always been pretty close, but dodge hasn't seen u since they moved away, but now they're back and ur in his living room and oh shit, uve grown up. i mean, he has too, obviously, he graduated high school, hes taller and stronger and over that awkward gangly teen phase he was in when you met him. but you. u wear shorts, around his place, those ripped denim ones with the fraying hems that show off the glimpse of a waistband of pretty pink panties. and tank tops, sheer, tight tanks to fight the scorching texas heat. and you laze around his house like youve always done, drinking his sweet tea and eating his food, chatting with his older sister about things he does it care about.

and you're cool, and older, and pretty, and interesting, and hes so surprised to hear about how youre single (from dayna, in passing), a string of bad exes behind you. cheaters and losers and broke idiots. dodge would never do that to u. dodge would treat you right. like a real man should. dodge would make you feel really fucking good. and hes determined to prove it to you.

-kit (going insane)

YEAHHHHHHH

Sigh whenever I think abt any dodge AUs I just want to lean heavy into small town aspirations that fail and send you right back to where you started. Maybe you leave the city for Dallas, or a suburb of it, auditioning to be a cheerleader for the Cowboys. You were the cheer captain back in Carp, but things are different in cities with a population over 5k.

So you come back, work at the salon in town painting nails. It’s the perfect job— all gossipy, surrounded by the sweet smell of lotions and shampoo.

Maybe you have a reputation around town for dressing kind of skanky, for being a little ditzy. Rumors of you stealing husbands and boyfriends (untrue!). But Dayna was your friend in high school, and she’s still your friend now. One of your last remaining ones in Carp. So you lounge around their house, spilling all the gossip you learned from work in his sister’s ear, giving her free manicures in the house since the salon on Main Street isn’t wheel chair accessible.

“I can do your nails, Dodge,” you offer with a pretty smile. “Just clean ‘em up a bit. Half the men in town come to get manicures from me.”

He makes a face, lips twitching into a grin. “I don’t need my nails to be hooker red, thank you.”

You shrug, apply another coat of pale pink on Dana’s nails. “Bring ‘em over here. I wanna see.”

He sighs and takes a few ambling steps towards you. When he’s close enough, you grab his hand and hold it up to the light. Your nose wrinkles, and you raise a dissatisfied brow.

“Hands say a lot about someone,” you say as you trace your fingers along the back of his hand, then the rough, work-worn palms and fingertips. “Wanna know what yours say?”

He makes a face, but concedes. He’s handsome, grown up a lot in the two years since you left for Dallas. Nineteen now, more sure of himself. More muscular? Jesus, the rodeo had been treating him right. “Sure. Why not?”

Your thumb strokes over the back of his hand. “They’re rough. These are a workers hands. They say you know how to take care of the people you love. That you’re real hands on.” You pause, grin. “But the dirt under your nails… that tells me that you aren’t taking care of any ladies.”

His cheeks turn pink as you and Dayna grin, and he forces a sarcastic laugh as he pulls his hands back. “Wow. Thanks.”

You meet his gaze and offer a pretty smile. “Really, let me clean your hands up sometime. I’ll bring you Whataburger, or Sonic, or Dairy Queen.”

He laughs despite himself, shrugs. “Maybe.”

Dayna slaps your arm once Dodge slips away to his bedroom. “Stop hitting on my little brother. Its weird.”

You grin, but say nothing.

It’s a week later that you’re back in his living room without Dayna in sight. You’re holding a bag of Whataburger, sprawled across the couch. “Can I do your nails?”

How can he say no?

————

@gamesetart this took forever but I need him <3 I love this concept it’s so fun

[theramseyloft]

Do you know anything about albino doves and if they are truly predisposed to vision issues and also why do domestic doves seem to live longer than pigeons especially indoor birds

I have hands on experience with this!

Gordon is a White ringneck dove, but not albino.

Note his dark eyes.

White is one of the sex linked base colors of Ringneck Dove.

The other two are Wild/Dark and Fawn/Blond.

White is an extreme dilute that removes all but the pigment that would otherwise be black, leaving the faintest "Tea Stain" of a ring across the back of his neck.

You can barely see it in this photo, but this is one of the better ones showing his actual color. (It's very faint, but he does have it!)

April is a true albino.

Look at her feet and eyes.

Gordon's feet have some melanin. They are a deep red.

April's are pink.

In the second photo of Gordon, you can see that his eyes are deep red, with a large, round, pitch black pupil.

As you can see on Cooey Lewis (Wild/Dark cock), this is the normal eye color of Ringneck doves.

Aprils body has no pigment what so ever.

Her Iris is transparent. That pink color comes from the blood vessels in her eyes reflecting a little bit of red light.

True Albinos don't have any pigment in their pupils either.

The black of our pupil draws light through the eye onto the retina to be interpreted by the brain.

The pigmented Iris protects the retina from being burned by blocking excess light when the pupil contracts.

So albinos are just screwed both ways.

They can't focus the light they get without a black pupil, and their eyes and skin are prone to being burned by UV radiation that their transparent iris can't block.

April lived most of her life in a sunlit pen outside.

She was almost completely blind on arrival, and her vision never improved.

It's kind of a myth that Ringnecks indoors live longer than pigeons.

Because they have no homing sense, they were domesticated exclusively by caging.

The smart, agile individuals escaped early on, leaving the physically and mentally slow behind to be the breeding stock.

Thousands of years and billions of generations in cages have resulted in a bird with 0 survival instincts, no sense of self preservation, and a completely garbage immune system.

If they have an advantage over pigeons indoors, it's their extreme confinement tolerance.

Being in a small cage is not healthy for any bird, but because their entire domestication process involved fairly small cages, it just doesn't stress ringneck doves the way it does other birds.

They live so long indoors because the environment is pretty close to sterile and they are treated like the helpless, fragile waifs they are.

Pigeons (of structurally sound, healthy breeds) housed indoors, where they don't have to worry about parasites, disease, or their pens being investigated by predators, tend to live quite long, healthy lives, provided a good diet and as much exercise as possible.

[zai-doodles]

How does Lisanna fit into your rewrite?

She was done so dirty in the show I think she deserves so much more

I'm insane u don't know what uve done

I've talked a bit about my lis hcs before and her dynamic with her siblings but she just has like SO MUCH POTENTIAL!!

Like ok let's just get into it

First up, as much as I loved Lucy Ashley in edolas and how she had a really fun dynamic with the trio i just,,,,

IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN LISANNA

like no everyone stop I have so many thoughts about lifetime in edolas

Ur telling me she was the only one who knew about the existence of earthland and she DIDNT SPEAK UP??? LIKE GIRLIE THIS IS UR MOMENT HELLO??

Even if she tried to pull the like "this is my home now" shit I just think it would have been so fun to watch her have this weird dynamic with natsu where she knows exactly what's happening and is trying to lead them both to safety and save earthland fairy tail

PLUS seeing how she interacts with lucy for the first time?? Make them friends??? Please???? I'm on my hands and knees

Edolas high key needs a lot of work when fitting into the overall narrative because as a solo thing it's really fun but raises so many questions for no reason just ugh weird

It could have been cool if lis didn't immediately speak up but in order to defend the guild or save natsu and lucy she had to get one of those pill things to restore her magic so she could defend them and it was this big dramatic reveal rather than, what to me felt lime an after thought

I want full side plots and stories dedicated to lis relearning how to interact with the guild once she's back in earthland. She got so use to them acting a certain way like it takes her a while to unlearn it.

Like in my mind lis is very good friends with all the guild members because she floats around and stays back at the guild alot with mira at first but she truly has to pause when she goes to yell at levy when something breaks Meanwhile levy is just sitting peacefully reading a book like-

Plot wise I want her to force natsu to confront his past and his hard-core attachment issues because when she gets back he literally can't process that she is back so he keeps their interactions very light and short and it hurts lis so much but he's just so unconsciously afraid that once he embraces that's she's back she's going to evaporate because the world hates him fr

And then lucy and juvia and lis I feel all have this weird little club of like, ppl who joined the guild in the past 5 years and loves everyone very much however all these people grew up together and are basically a hivemind and it's hard not to feel left out sometimes

Bc again, even tho lis grew up there and has her siblings, she's literally labeled as the dead girl so she's very isolated at first, especially with how overprotective her siblings become, so lucy and juvia r the only ones who don't treat her that way because they didn't know her before she died

Anyway later in the story I want her to go back to being a full time wizard and taking on jobs whoever needs it since, again she has a dynamic with everyone so she doesn't commit to a team really and just floats around providing support on jobs she thinks ppl can use a hand on, and again it's just more vignettes of her relearning her guildmates and I'm crying thank u for coming to my Ted talk

[problematicraccoon]

I WANNA TALK ABOUT MY SKZ DR AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

heres a lore dump

MKAY so in this reality im gonna be in a polycule situation with the entirety of stray kids (shut up i know im an interdimentional whore), but hwen i first shift there, we're still just friends.

some details about me in that dr is that my name is Alyssa Kolanko, im 23, im in a dance crew thats world renowned with Emmy (the youtuber) Beomhan (our boi) Ryan (hellyxryan) and Ravon (also youtuber), we're all best friends (ive been besties with Ravon since we were teenagers growing up together in ohio, then we both moved to Georgetown, Washington for college and to join the dance crew Ultraviolet)

dance crews are treated like kpop groups are in my cr. we're signed to entertainment companies' dance group divisions, have fanchants, fandoms, light sticks, stadium tours, music videos (where we do dance covers of songs and have cool visuals to go with it). if you guys have any ideas as to what our fandom name should be, i'd appreciate it, i cant come up with jack shit lmao.

i lived with Ravon in a cool loft apartment in Georgetown for four years, ever since we moved when we were 19, and now that we're 23, he's decided he wants to live with his boyfriend of two years, Carter (also youtuber from my cr), and i offered to move out so they could have the loft.

i've known the boys of SKZ since i was 21 and they came to see us perform at a dance festival (a type of concert where a bunch of dance crews come and perform at a stadium or concert hall)

as i've been a youtuber since i was like 15 in this reality, i grew a large following and the guys (skz) have been watching my videos since the beginning.

we quickly become friends after we meet, and become very close over the next few years. they fall head over heels in love with me lmao. i love living in fanfiction. ANYWAY.

now that Ravon and Carter are moving in together, i needed to find somewhere else to live. i expressed to the guys in our gc that i wasnt looking forward to living alone, as i love to live with my friends, and they suggested i move in with them since they're just getting ready to have a house built for them. i agree, and we all work together to build our dream house.

when i spawn in, it'll be the day before i fully move into the house with the guys. my besties (the members of UV) all come to me and Ravon's loft to spend the night and help me pack. then, the following day, the guys come and help pile my stuff into our cars and we head off to our house, where (since its totally empty) we'll lay out blankets and pillows in the unfurnished living room to have a big sleepover until we can get our bedrooms sorted out. i am very scared of living with eight other people btw T0T and it's stray kids for christ sake???? its gonna be so fucking LOUD

OH OH AND I HAVE A CAT. SHES AN ORANGE TABBY AND SHES VERY SWEET AND STUPID AND RUNS INTO WALLS AND HER NAME IS MINKA. SHES 2 AND I ADOPTED HER WHEN SHE WAS JUST A KITTEN <3 minho is absolutely OBSESSED with her

and im besties with Brittany Broski because i adore her she is everything to me i would lay down my life for her

and as for my backstory; very tragic, kinda personal, wont share much about that. but all that you need to know is that my parents were shitty, and my aunt Isla (the same one from my better childhood dr, face claim Daphne Zuniga) saved me and my younger brother Eric (eric lloyd) and took us to Ohio from Poland to raise us when i was 13. she also has a son, who's technically my cousin, but i consider him my big brother and he considers me and eric his little siblings. his name is brandon, and his face/personality claim is Brandon Farris (hes a HILARIOUS youtuber, highly recommend him)

so yeah- theres alot more lore in this dr, its definitely my most detailed one, so i might make another post explaining more lmao.

[deluluduck227]

Beauty day | Ez Abde

Warnings : none, just pure fluff

You were sitting in the living room. Today was windy and beautiful. Abde was in the training and it was nearly the hour when he'd comeback. You just finished tidying up the house, abde was a quite messy guy, sometimes he gets on your nerves but what to do? It is the way he's used to live. You were scrolling on tik tok, suddenly a video popped up on a girl painting her nails white. You looked at your nails, it's been a while since you did nail polish, seems like it's time. You got up and rushed to your shared room, excitement washing over you, you grabbed your white nail polish and the other equipments you'll need. You made your way back to the living room. You started by shaping your nails, they weren't tall , just the average, how you liked them. Then you removed your cuticles using the nipper. Suddenly you heard the door flick and abde already made his way towards you, he pecked your lips as a greeting.

" How was your day babe ?" You asked him, voice little bit hoarse cuz like you were silent for most if the morning.

" Great, what are you doing?" he exclaimed, ruffling your hair, you smiled at his gesture as your shoved your hand in his face to show him and as a response he took your hand as kissed it on the palm.

" I'll go change my clothes, wait for me"

You hummed and resumed your work, removing cuticles was your least favorite part. It needs concentration. However, when abde cameback, he was wearing grey sweatpants and some white tees, he sat next to you while talking on the phone.

" Labas 3liha, she's busy doing here nails"

" Wa lwalida , we'll visit soon, as soon the season is finished"

You assumed it was his mother, she was so sweet with you.

" Sellem 3liha" you told him and he nodded transferring your greeting and ending the call

You couldn't help but notice his nails when he placed them on your tigh, they were ... crusty, the cuticles were long. It was the occasion to remove em even tho you hated this mission. He protested first but when you put on your strict face he was under your command. A while after, you finshed but you head was slightly hurting you. The guy wouldn't shut up whining. You then grabbed the nail polish as started painting your left hand, you put it under the nail uv lamp for about 1 minute to dry it out, you wanted to do the same for your right hand but you were clearly struggling, abde noticed so he put his phone away and offered help, your heart swooned at how thoughtful he was , you sat facing him on the sofa, your hand hovering over the palm of his, he grabbed the brush and started applying thin coats.

" Wallah if you mess it i'll kill you Abdessamad!" Yiu exclaimed, clearly jocking since he was applying the polish like a pro and it impressed you tbh. He pouted slightly, looking you in the eyes.

" This is how you treat who offered help! Nekkart lkhir"

The last remark made you laugh out loud, he was such a drama queen and you weren't complaining, you loved it.

" Alrighty, just kidding babe" you winked at him as he resumed his mission.

Minutes later, your other hands was all ready. You smiled looking at the result. White polish always suited you.

" Let me see m, luv" you switched your gaze to abde when he asked, gave him your hands to see, he smiled brightly at you, kissing your hands gently which caused some tinglings in your tummy.

" ghzalin, you're not going to polish your toe nails? Pretty please" he asked putting on his baby face which you scoffed, lightly smacking his shoulder.

" I'll just ruin them , i know" you stated, eyes boring onto his when an idea enlightened your mind " maybe you should do it since you are an expert" you exclaimed wiggling your eyebrows at him along with a mischievous smile decorating your lips.

" Gladly luv"

Abde then shifted his position, he was now sitting on the carpet facing you and crossing his legs, he put a pillow on his lap and gently placed you foot on it. He stopped his movements for a while analysing your feet, a question mark was forming itself upon his head.

" How can a feet be this size? I mean how do you walk properly without falling?" He blurted out his questions with a dumb face which lead you into some giggles, a music to his ear.

You leaned forward, cupping his face between your hands, placing a soft peck on his lips.

" No, the question is how can someone be this dumb and cute at the same time."

" No, i'm seriously talking answer me"

" Abdessamad, it's literally normal, i'm a girl after all , remember?"

He hummed shaking his head slightly "it makes sense"

"It does, now hurry up please, this position is not comfortable at all"

He started his errand, putting his full focus on the job he is committed to, you couldn't help but stare at his profile , your love for him couldn't get any warmer in your veins. Abde wasn't the same person in the media, he appeared to be a playboy, selfish and all. But in real life, he was the sweetest person to ever exist, especially around his family.

After a while he was done and pretty satisfied by the results, you kissed his cheek mumbling a thank you. He stretchd his arms and you couldn't help but stare at his biceps, i mean he was putting some extra efforts in the gym. He shifted in his position, still sitting on the carpet but his back was facing you this time, sitting between your parted legs. He throwed his head back on your lap, hands soothing in the soft skin of your legs. He groaned from the comfort he was receiving, especially when you runned your fingers through his soft thick hair, you noticed how long his hair got. You always loved his messy hair. You smiled at the idea that popped at in your head. You immediately got up, rushing to your bedroom, all under abde's confusing gaze. A minute after you came back with hairclips and a brush. He then realized what was going on inside this little head of yours.he just groaned, knowing well that he will not be able to escape his fate so he just surrendered. You sat in your previous spot, wrapping your legs around his middle. You began by sectioning his hair into two parts the you started braiding.

" Hey, you're hurting me, be gentle!!" Abde exclaimed, being the drama queen he is.

" I did ? Luv, that was my intention" you stated cheerfully and as a response he pinched your shin. You shook your head in disbelief " why would you do that? It hurts"

" Luv that was my intention" he responded sassily.

" I swear to god if it'll leave a mark you'll be dead. I'm warning you"

" Shut up and continue please i'm getting sleepy "

You decided to let it slide since he was doing you a favor already by letting you braid his hair.

A while after, you were done, the french braids you were planning in your mind wasn't the same on his head. It was all messy and the hair was escaping the braids. Nevertheless, it looked cute. " Turn around babe" he did as you commanded and you couldn't help but coo at how adorable he looked.

" Jiti fniwn al3ayl" he giggled at your comment, grabbing his phone to see his reflection in the front camera only to brust into laugh which you joined him.

You grabbed your phone to take some pics of him, for the sake of memories !

You squeezed his cheeks with one hand so his lips would look pouty, it was funny one. You both fit into giggles, and after a while he put his head on your tigh, yawning, he looked so tired and drained of energy. Your heart clenched for him , poor guy was tired, yet he didn't complain and let you did whatever your heart pleased. You flicked his cheek, drawing his attention to you.

"Hey babe, let's go to bed and cuddle? Hmm? " You whispered, smiling at the way he kissed your thigh,sign of approval and you guys made your way to your bedroom.

Labas 3liha : She's okay

Sellem 3liha : send her my regards

Lwalida: mother

Wallah: i swear to god

Nekkart lkhir: an expression to describe someone who ignores all the good things you've given him, selfish? Idk

Ghzalin: beautiful

Jiti fniwn : you look adorable

Al3ayl: It means boy, it's a word used in the north of morocco, a chamali dialect

[orbitfalls]

I've come seeking revenge mwahaha

FMK cygnus, alphard, druella

EM NOOOOOOO

This is a terrible thing to do to me because like. NONE of these options feel right I don’t wanna fuck marry OR KILLL any of them SHJSHSJSHJS these are my sickly children that I keep in a glass jar and feed one corn chip a day like. I don’t wanna fmk them I wanna take samples of their hair and study it under a microscope??????

BUT IF I MUST (deep sigh)

We’re talking UV here btw as always

Okay shit so I’m marrying Alphard I think. To me he’s a very free spirit and I feel like that trait would be reflected in a marriage with him for sure. It would be the least restrictive thing ever we would just be best friends and travel the world together and fuck shit up. And then when he’s losing a game of cards to a group of foreigners in some random port town in the Caribbean he improvises the most outrageous travel stories while i fight not to laugh as I pickpocket his opponents. Then he frowns and claims that His Wife sadly is waiting for him back on the ship while maintaining dead eye contact with me over the shoulders. and then we run off together and steal their boat

Uhmm okay so out of these three Cygnus is my favourite for sure and I’m taking this opportunity to kill him. I think I deserve it actually as a treat yk what I’m saying. This man is the scum of this earth and I would absolutely cherish the opportunity to gently shove him off his beloved Backyard Cliff. Yet I have a feeling he’d come back to haunt me??? I would never be able to look at waves the same way ever again yk. That might not be so good if I’m marrying Alphard. Also I feel like I might miss him a little he’s just a little guy

Fucking druella. This one I feel pretty neutral about actually bc to me she’s hard to get a grasp on as a character? It might be just my lack of writing her, but to me she will always be more of an echo than a woman. She’s the afterthought, she’s the mother whose death began the story, she’s the body whose ashes were spread in the waves. To me she’s not as much of a character as she is. well. a force of irony? The waves that haunt Cygnus, the insanity that haunts bellatrix, the death that haunts narcissa, the echo that haunts andromeda. I fuck with that tho for sure yes

[23raccoons]

venēnum amōris

Sasori x Sakura

i.e. "[a/the] potion/juice/poison/venom of [a(n)/the] love/admiration/desire/enjoyment"

or

sakura makes sasori a love poison.

Halloween, Necromancer!Sasori, Witch!Sakura, love potions, sasori is down bad as always

“Hello, Sasori!” Sakura calls cheerfully as she enters Sasori’s little metaphysical shop. Half apothecary, half alchemistic supplies, half curiosity store. Shelves lined with jars of toxic powders and bottles of corrosive elixirs. Preserved venomous squamata. “How are you today?”

She pays little mind to the vast difference in their respective magical practices, Sakura leaning towards love and light and all sorts of other virtuous do-goodings that make Sasori want to gag. While he, well, prefers to play with the dead—and things that will soon make one dead. Necromancy and iniquitous magic of a more nefarious nature.

“I am as I am every time you see fit to bless the shop with your presence,” Sasori intones dryly. She is the most annoying little witch prancing about town. From her mycena rosea toned hair to her verdant eyes. They glow when she uses her magic, nearly the same bioluminescence hue of the hadrurus arizonensis that fill the tank behind him when exposed to uv light.

“Well, the continuity is most certainly appreciated,” Sakura laughs lightly, making her way over to the counter. He wonders if she glamors herself to be so vexingly pretty, as lovely as the haunted porcelain dolls locked away in the warded display cases, or if it comes naturally so. From her charming coloring to the teasing banter she treats him with, she is the most tempting of specimens.

Sasori has checked, on more than one occasion, if she has placed him under some sort of love spell. A phenomenon-like pull to draw him into her web, an amorous curse of erotic attraction. She unfortunately has not; he rechecks often nonetheless. The quixotic feelings of lust and yearning all his own. An infelicitous lasciviousness he pushes down at the thought of her in most any capacity.

“It’s near sundown, shouldn’t you be hunkered down next to your hearth by now? Tending to your fire?” He mocks lightly. Her home warm and inviting, cozy even. Full of mismatched furniture and all her instruments of practice, he’s been by a few times on errands forced upon him by his grandmother. “All Hallows Eve is soon upon us, you know.”

Mere hours away from the setting sun crosses the barrier of the horizon, stealing the light from the sky. The turning of the bountiful harvest into the cold bleakness of winter. Sakura’s light, green work magic will dampen as the death and decay of Sasori’s dark magic strengthen.

“I came for some last-minute supplies,” she offers, tapping her nails on the countertop. Sasori narrows his eyes at the offending chipped opalescent enamel-coated keratin. Fingers adorned with an assortment of metal rings that catch the light as she moves.

“A candle for your jack-o-lantern,” he drawls. Protections from any sinister spirits that may be lurking about, all too eager to get their hands on a source of magic to feast on. “Or perhaps some cinnamon and clove for your simmer pot.”

Sakura often comes by the shop to purchase ingredients for her medicines. Dried flowers and leaves. Processed powders and tinctures. The occasional handful of mildly toxic hallucinogenic berries or psychoactive mushrooms that find their way into his inventory.

“Very funny,” she tells him, with a perfect pout. “I was thinking more along the lines of belladonna or mandrake.”

“Oh, really?” Sasori queries as uninterestedly as he can manage. “Seems a little dark for your type.”

It is true. Sakura’s a garden witch—a good one, both in skill and morality; village folk often seek her out for her restorative potions and medicinal balms to help treat their illnesses and ailments. She dabbles in divination and crystals. Star-reading and matchmaking. Midwifery. Hardly the type to need ingredients for darker, occult leaning intentions.

“Dare’s bane, hemlock, foxglove.” She continues, counting off items on her fingers. Sasori keeps his expression neutral as she prattles on. “Wing of bat. Eye of newt.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous,” he informs her. “No one calls that these days. Ilex aquifolium leaves and seeds from sinapis alba.”

“I mean,” Sakura interjects in his scientific classification lesson, “most people would call it holly and mustard seed. Who’s out here memorizing taxonomies for common potions ingredients?”

Sasori doesn’t point out that he does, and also Sakura, despite her teasing of him. She’s in here often enough with both her own orders and pick-ups that she packs in a little wicker basket to deliver to his grandmother. (The Old Hag never forgets to remark on Sakura’s lack of a husband every single time Sasori endures her presence.)

“What are you really here for?” He’s itching to know what she aspires to do on this nocturnal holiday.

“Oh, you’re so impatient.” She tells him. Sasori’s often torn in her presence, unable to decide if he never wants to leave her side or never wants to see her again. “I need some sugar cubes.”

Sakura has a running tab in his bookkeeping ledger, as she does not charge people for her services, taking payment in whatever form it is given. From wild honey to handmade gifts. Tokens or trinkets. Fresh meat and jars of jam or jelly. Favors, secrets, and the like. Trading in her earnings to pay down her balance when she acquires a novelty that Sasori would find of value.

“Sugar?” He can’t keep the shock out of his voice. What kind of silly little witch ventures out on All Hallows Eve to buy sugar instead of preparing her home against wicked specters and all other manner of malevolent supernatural creatures?

And almost like a test of his patience, something he has little of, waiting for her selection is always worth it. Sakura smiles, like the little flirtatious minx she is, pulling out a flask-sized crystal bottle from the depths of her enchanted apron pocket.

The liquid inside near fluorescent green, shimmering and swirling in its container, clearly magical in its properties. Absinthe, likely made by Sakura herself.

“You plan to divine tonight?” Quirking a brow, how licentious of her. He swallows the urge to offer to join her. To get a glimpse of her usual sweetness in a more debauched state on such a sacred night to his practice.

She swirls the bottle, causing the contents to swirl and flow around. Enchanting, entrancing, enticing. Passing it over the counter to him. “Not quite.”

Sasori pulls the stopper off the top, wafting the fumes towards his nose. Wormwood, fennel, and anise as expected. An overlay of mint, lemon balm, and basil.

“A love potion?” Nothing less than scandalous. Salacious.

She hums, fidgeting with the small crystal display on the counter. “A short-term lust potion, one that intensifies sensations between a couple. I thought perhaps we could enjoy it together if you were not otherwise engaged for the night.”

Oh.

Oh.

Sasori would enjoy that very much indeed.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

I've done a Backstory!Post! for the first of my currently mentioned platonic yandere favorites... now I think it is time for the next one. To begin with, we had how Logan Howlett/Wolverine met his bby... so that means Victor Creed/Sabretooth is next! Let's begin this second Backstory!Post:

• Victor has not had a pretty life. Abused by his father, seen as a freak, hurt and cursed and hated, it wasn't a hard choice for him to decide to become the monster everyone expected him to be. It served them right. Everyone was the same, cowards and pigs, the lot of 'em. And if one was to survive, you had to be the meanest, the strongest, of the lot. He could count on his hand how many people he actually had an interest in.

• His bby is likely someone who surprises him. They are something unexpected, something different than the usual people he deals with. Maybe they are someone with a powerful mutation, or someone who happened to gain the upper hand on him. Maybe they have been dealt a similar hand to him, being hurt to such a degree that it leaves lasting wounds on their psyche... Either way, this bby isn't scared of him. For some reason, they don't see him as someone to revile or hate... if anything, they might be neutral, or even cordial, with him. For once, someone just treats him like a person.

• Their first meeting could be anywhere, really. Perhaps they meet on opposite ends of a fight... perhaps they are in the same group for the time being... for this scenario, I think they would both be held captive by someone. A scientist who wants to study different mutants and their abilities, and in turn make them into weapons, pawns, their own personal soldiers. This person is cruel and manipulative, playing their captives against each other, in an attempt to leave them unwilling to unite against them. Yet for the bby... they don't crack...

• And for the life of him, Victor can't figure out how they did it... how his bby stayed themself, unbroken and untamed... but no matter how they did it, he's not complaining... this is their origin story of meeting, after all, and of course his bby would turn out to be as unbreakable as he is...

• Of course it's his luck to get stuck in this situation. Another freak-of-the-week mad scientist wantin' to try their hand at mutant experimentation. Yep. Just his freakin' luck. And this one... this one is one f*cked up son uv a gun...

• You're not having a great time. Some nut-case is capturing and testing mutants... and you're one of the (un)lucky souls who got caught. Your mutation can only do so much, and this complete psycho has prepared for almost every ability there could be. All sorts of drugs, plenty of torture devices, not to mention the actual power-negating stuff... and this freak doesn't plan on stopping anytime soon. They want to break you, to squash you into nothing and program you and every other mutant here into their personal toys...

• And you happen to have gotten on their nerve this time. It's not like this is the first time you've tried... but this is the first time they actually showed any outward signs of anger. They didn't take too well to you calling their work meaningless, a disgrace to science... so it seems they've finally decided to do something about you... So here you are, being dragged into a room and locked inside until they see fit to "test you" again... but... the thing is... you're not alone in there...

• Great... looks like they brought 'im some fresh meat... Victor groans a little as he gets up. Chains hold him to the floor, shackled to a thick metal cuff around each of his wrists. D*mn it... he can't even leave his side of this prison. And he takes a good look at what the lab rats brought 'im... and he isn't very impressed. It's a kid, that much he can tell... one who looks roughed up quite a bit... heh. Seems like someone made the doc mad.

• "Heh. Looks like we're gunna be stuck here fer a while, huh, whelp? Why don't'cha come closer, so we can get better acquainted?" He watches them, as they take in their new surroundings. The fresh meat winces as they move, but, they do approach him... yet they stay just out of reach... and then ask if he's okay...

• What? Is the whelp drugged er somethin'? They seem to realize what they just asked, and rub at their neck, looking sheepish. They point out that it's a stupid question, but that they are concerned. About him. "Uh, whelp. Ya realize ya should be more worried 'bout yerself, right? The doc must be rather p*ssed with ya ta throw ya in here with me." He lets out a cackle, then regrets it almost immediately when his chest aches with every breath. D*mn that f*cking *sshole doctor, professor, whatever the h*ll they claim to be! The whelp ain't the only one who earned the doc's wrath... whatever the loon gave him, it inhibits his healin' ability...

• "I guess the doc doesn't really like us, eh? This must be "special time-out" fer us, huh, fresh meat?" He sighs, his ribs aching with the motion. The kid hasn't stopped looking at him, but... it's not with fear, or contempt... if anything... they actually look worried fer 'im... They shuffle their feet uneasily, but he can't smell fear on them. None in the least. Blood, sure. Sweat, yep. But not a trace of panic or hate. Huh.

• You watch your cell-mate with concern. He's a giant. Chains hold him back, limiting his movement and leaving him trapped to the back of the cold room. Dark, dried blood covers him, and you can see wounds where the cuffs rubbed against his wrists. Not to mention the bruises coloring patches of his skin splotches of greenish-tinged black. He looks dangerous, deadly... but you stay near, asking if he wants something to eat...

• "Ya realize there ain't any food here, don't'cha, fresh meat? Unless yer offerin' ta be a sacrifice," he huffs out. But you just chuckle, and produce something hidden within the fold of your sleeve... it's a squashed protein bar... but... it's food...

• You ask the man if he doesn't mind that this is what you were able to hide on you. Then promptly explain that it won't taste very well, but it should sate some of his hunger. That he needs it just as much as you or anyone else here needs it. You notice the shackles restrict his arms to the point he can't lift them to his face... possibly as a method to force him to rely on the scientist and their minions for everything... you ask if he's still hungry, and that you're going to have to hold it for him while he eats, if he wants it...

• "'Kay, then. I promise, I won't bite ya. Scout's honor. Now, can ya come over here? I'm starvin'." He waits patiently as you approach him, bringing the much-needed food with you. You open it, holding it up for him to eat, still no signs of panic or fear. He can't help but chuckle a little at that. Looks like ta him, you're one tough little whelp. Maybe you're worth keepin' 'round...

• He takes a bite from the offered food, and you give him a soft, tired smile...

• "Not bad... hmm... thanks, whelp. I think we're gunna get along just fine..." With that, he devours what's left of the food... this moment is how you met Victor... and he never would've guessed that he'd end up with someone like you as his bby...