#i assume just because it's all already taped

[maxwelljacobfriedman]

i just want everyone to know what they’re missing out on not watching mlw

[semi-sketchy]

hey so I think I found the cause of my health problems for the last decade

[darklordofthesimp]

Delirium (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader)

Summary: Being partnered with Ghost was never easy. However, when you find him bleeding out on the kitchen floor and delirious from blood loss, you make a discovery. The L.T loves to talk.

Requested by Anon: #57 You're shaking.

A/N: Some Sunshine to feed you while I work on Anything III.

Category: Mutual Pining

Warnings: Description of injury || Graphic language

You weren't a medic by any means. 

There was the combat first aid course that you were all forced to do during basic training, but that had been a century ago. You'd handled your own injuries when an enemy sniper would get a lucky shot. Again, there's not much to do there other than put some pressure on it.

Otherwise, you were fairly inexperienced when it came to handling injured team members. There were shortfalls to being a sniper, hand-to-hand combat wasn't as relevant and having to provide first aid was rare. 

You call them shortfalls because now, in a situation where those skills are required, you're fucking struggling. 

You'd opened the door to the safe house with a sigh, frowning when you couldn't see Ghost through the windows. You'd assumed he'd be waiting for you to arrive from your nest but clearly, he didn't give enough of a fuck to wait around. 

You could have died en route and he'd be sleeping. 

For some reason, the thought hurt. 

You could think of a million things that he probably thought more important than you; staring at a wall being high on the list. What you hadn’t expected, was to find him collapsed on the kitchen floor.

“Ghost,” you rasped, choking on his name. His eyes flickered open at the sound of your voice, the relief palpable in his gaze. He groaned and let his head fall back against the wall with a strangled noise. You were frozen. You’d never seen him injured and honestly, you thought that you never would. 

You’d even told Soap that Ghost was probably just a bootleg Robo-Cop beneath the mask.  

But, the blood soaking through his uniform said otherwise. 

“You gonna give me hand or not?” His voice was low and rough. It had no edge, though. There was no bite behind his words like there usually was and it scared you. The man hated your guts and if he was too injured to convey that then he was definitely dying. 

“Oh God,” you breathed, leaning your rifle against the wall slowly. Your eyes never left his crumpled form and his eyes never left your face. “Oh God.” 

You slid to your knees, rushing to his side with frantic curses. You couldn’t see the extent of the wound from beneath his armour and he clearly didn’t have enough strength to take it off himself. 

“Stab wound,” Ghost offered the cause of injury through gritted teeth. “Got me good.” 

“This shit needs to come off,” you tugged at his armour, reaching for the quick-release cord. The man groaned but he didn’t object. One hard tug of the plastic ligature had the vest falling apart at every seam, the line now loose in your hand. 

“Fuck,” the man gave a startled chuckle, taking a large breath with his chest free from pressure. “Feel better already.” 

You didn’t reply, eyes narrowed on the wound beneath his ribs. You pulled up his shirt, tucking it beneath his arms as you scanned over the injury. It was clean cut, a clear entry wound that was steadily leaking a shit tonne of blood. 

No sounds of air sucking in through the jagged flesh and you thanked whoever was listening that it wasn’t a punctured lung. You didn’t have any seals on you and you didn’t want to slap him with some duct tape instead. He’d never let you live that down.

“How’s it lookin’, Sunshine?” Ghost asked, breathing heavily.

“Unfortunately,” you began, pressing the cotton padding from your kit against the wound, “if you apply pressure, you’ll live.” 

“Unfortunately?” He coughed,  the sound strained and you could tell he immediately regretted the movement. 

“Very fucking unfortunate,” you confirmed with faux seriousness. 

You stuck a gauze pad to the wound once you had finished packing it, reaching into your med pouch for a bandage. You’d wrap it around his midriff to keep pressure on the wound, you decided. 

“A ray of Sunshine you are, as per fuckin’ usual.” 

You clenched your jaw, reminding yourself that he was injured and that you couldn’t stick a finger knuckle-deep in his wound as retaliation. At the very least, he was back to hating you. Meant he wasn’t dying any time soon. 

You frowned at the bandage in your hands, desperately trying to remove the plastic wrapping. You couldn’t think straight and your body felt jittery as the adrenline began to settle. You couldn’t believe how vulnerable he was, unable to gather the strength to take off his own body armour. 

You hated it. 

Why the fuck couldn’t you open this wrapping? 

You pulled harder on the plastic, trying to bring your heart rate down. Why were you breathing so hard? 

A gloved hand fell over your own. 

Your frantic tugging came to an immediate halt and your eyes snapped up to meet his, startled. Ghost's gaze was half lidded but just as intense as always, grazing over your features. Heat flushed through your body at his drunken stare. You knew it was from the blood loss, you knew he could barely see straight, but that kind of look was reserved for someone he was sharing a bed with and you couldn't function at the sight of it. 

For a moment he said nothing, blinking slowly- too slowly- as he took in a breath. 

"Relax, kid," he murmured eventually. "I'm okay."

You swallowed hard. 

His fingers were soft over your own, too weak to apply pressure but curled over your hand just the same. 

"I am relaxed." You bit back at him, returning your gaze to the stupid fucking bandage beneath both of your hands. You didn't want him to see how much this affected you, you didn't want him to think you were a cowardly mess. 

There was a soft huff as he patted your hand lightly. "You're shaking, Sunshine."

You sucked in a breath.

Your eyes flickered back to meet his, lips trembling at your exposure. He knew. The gentleness in his gaze was otherworldly, so foreign you wondered if it was even Simon Riley beneath the mask. Blood loss was clearly doing a number on him and he was doing a number on you. 

“I’m a sniper, Sir.” You coughed, trying to tear yourself from the sudden intimacy of the situation. “I don’t shake.”

Ghost tutted from beneath his mask. 

“Haven’t been with the right bloke, then.” 

Your jaw dropped. 

Ghost blinked at you as though he couldn’t believe what had come out of his mouth, either. Jesus fucking Christ. You suddenly realised why Soap had made fun of Ghost for never drinking when you’d all be at the pub. You remembered asking the Sarge why the masked enigma would always bail after an hour or two and his response was simple. 

“The L.T can’t hold his tongue when he’s on the piss.” 

You thought that implied aggression. 

Clearly not.

“There is no right bloke,” you rasped, slowly pulling the bandage from beneath his hand. The loss of contact left you feeling empty but suddenly you could breathe a little easier. 

Your fingers shook violently as you tried for the plastic wrapper again and your gaze flickered to Ghost’s face, praying he hadn’t noticed. You should have known better. 

His eyes were on your trembling digits, a soft exhale making it’s way to your ears. 

“Looks like I’ve proved you wrong, Sunshine.” 

The words were low but there was no heat behind them. It didn’t feel lustful, they were murmured like an afterthought, his mind elsewhere. You wondered where Simon Riley disappeared to in his head when he looked at you. 

“You crack a lot of jokes for someone who’s a literal shish kebab,” you snapped, tearing at the plastic wrapping with your teeth. Finally, the bandage came loose.

“And you talk a lot of shit for someone who cares more than they let on.” The words were fired back, demanding your attention. 

You stared at him for a long moment, resisting the urge to squirm beneath his dark gaze. You’d never seen that expression on him before, as though he were daring you to disagree. As if he were waiting for you to say something. 

“Can’t care too much in this business, Sir.” You choked on the words, unravelling the bandage.

“I believed that once,” he tilted his head. 

“And now?” You prodded, leaning over him to wrap the bandage around his midriff. You tried to ignore how close your face was to his, how your fingers trailed against the skin of his stomach. The Lieutenant shivered beneath your touch and you kept your gaze downcast. 

Fingers gripped your chin softly and you gasped as he tilted your face upward. 

You were half on top of him, nose to nose and his stuttered exhale brushed against your lips. Simon’s eyes were half lidded and this close you could see the blue of his eyes, a stormy ocean that swallowed you whole. You were caught in it’s rip tide, drowning in the reverence of his stare. 

“Now,” he murmured, lazily examining our features. His eyes lingered on your parted lips, his thumb slowly swiping your bottom lip. “Could say I’ve had a change of heart.” 

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Reacting To Your Tattoos

A/N: I have so many ideas for The Boys cast! Be sure to look out for more posts! I'm updating my request list to include them 😊 I'm sorry I've been a little MIA! I'll be getting back to requests asap! Hope you like it! Feedback is always appreciated 💜

Butcher loves them. This is not the moment to say something, to react, but he definitely takes notice. You got hurt, really hurt, and the only way to save you was for Annie cauterizing your wounds, buying you a little more time. Butcher didn't need to hold you down, you'd already gone limp, losing all color in your face. He begs you to wake up, to stay with them. There was so much blood. So much red. He was covered in it, seeping through his shirt. Your jacket was thrown off, the collar of your shirt torn, ripped, for easier access to your shoulder and they both discovered the tattoos. Your chest, your arm, neck, you were covered. He had a feeling there were far more, wondering why you never showed any of them. You were always so bundled up, he never even questioned it. He warned you this was going to hurt, though he wasn't even sure you could hear him. Still, as Annie's hands grew bright, he cringes, hoping you were too out of it to feel anything, hoping this would all seem like a far away dream. Hoping you won't mind the large scar that will warp your ink.

Hughie is pretty intimidated by them. The Boys are already a scary looking group, but meeting you, he thought you were going to bite off his head. Your body was pretty covered. After getting to know you, he realizes how wrong he was. You're snarky and stubborn, but you're also thoughtful and funny. If it were up to you, you'd never hurt a fly, just Vought. Still, every so often you'll do or say something that reminds him of that first impression, especially when you feel threatened or your friends are threatened. You'll show up with a few new ones, filling in the gaps. When it comes to open wounds you're ready to treat it with a strong drink and duct tape. When it comes to your tattoos, you're meticulous in your aftercare. He's never seen you so serene looking as when you're taking care of them, so gentle. Something about that makes him feel like he shouldn't be witnessing it, but he's grateful that he is. When they're in tricky spots, he's the first to offer to help. He works with nervous hands, afraid he'll do something to ruin it. You just laugh, walking him through it.

Annie knows all about your tattoos. They are, after all, linked to the V in your blood. You didn't start developing them until your late teens, your parents assuming the V they injected was a dud. Images started appearing and with them, your powers. By the time she met you, you were covered. You didn't like showing off to The Boys. You still had a long way to go to gaining their trust. Parading around the fact that you were a Supe wasn't going to help. Still, when it was just you and Annie you were less reluctant to show her. All kinds of images adorned your skin: weapons, insects, animals. You liked the weapons the best. The thing could project itself from your skin as if it were real. In seconds, you had a sword in each hand, as real and sharp as if you'd physically gotten one. The best part? Your skin was indestructible. Every few months, maybe years, a new tattoo would appear, giving you a leg up in the fight against Vought. She thinks you have by far the most interesting powers of any Supe she's met.

M.M. hates them. Because they're linked to the V you got as a baby, he sees them more of a warning than anything else, the way brightly colored animals are poisonous. He hadn't realized the first time you met, what they were from, and you were smart enough not to tell him. It was only when you were fighting for your life did you use your abilities: the circles on the back of your neck, layered, you let out a sonic scream that shattered windows, set off car alarms, and drew blood. The group that had attacked you were coughing it up, it was running down their necks from their ears. M.M. was far enough away not to be affected, but the way he tells it, he was *this* close to having his insides turned to goo. Some were safe enough to run away. The ones who were closer dropped dead with a wet squelch. He trusts you even less for not telling him. When he breaks the news to everyone else, he's shocked to find out that they either knew (like Annie) or they were unfazed, more impressed than anything else, like you'd become this great asset. You apologize profusely, but you know it'll be a long time before he can even look you in the eyes.

Frenchie thinks they're so cool. He went with you once and got one of his own: while you were getting a rather large piece finished, he wants to get a smiley face on his ass cheek. Despite the discomfort, Frenchie's all giggles. He's more than excited to show this off to everyone he decides to moon. You try to tell him how to take care of it, but he waves you off. He's eager to show The Boys. He's lucky it heals properly and by the end of the week, everyone he comes into contact with has seen it. Besides that, his favorite thing is to study the ones you have. They're intricate and beautiful and some of them are pretty silly. You never understood the sentiment that there had to be some grand kind of meaning behind them. If you like it, you get it tattooed. He asks questions about them, most done all over the world or, a couple, in prison. He thinks you look badass, especially when you shed the bulky layers and show off what they normally don't get to see. Your back piece is his favorite. When you're wearing something with a low back, or disregard a shirt completely, he can't help but watch you. You're careful, covering them with clothes or makeup so that whatever illegal thing you're doing can't be traced.

Kimiko asks a lot of questions. Did it hurt? Why that image? What does it mean? How long did it take? You never mind, in fact you like talking about them. You spent enough time getting stabbed, you wanted someone to ask. She especially loves the ones on your hands. They look beautiful as you sign back to her. Some are still a little raised despite how well you took care of them, those are her favorite. She touches them delicately, afraid it might hurt, but you assure her they're all healed. She watches when you're getting changed together, how they move with your skin and muscles. They make her smile knowing you feel so much more at home in your body because of them, something you admitted to her late one night after a few drinks. They help you like yourself, covering up insecurities, making you feel cuter/cooler than you would without them. She's always the first to notice when you get a new one, making a point regardless of the situation to tell you how nice it looks and that she likes it a lot.

Bonus! Homelander thinks they're horrendous. Disgusting. Just another way you've defiled your body. He can't stand to look at them and made sure you understand that. Around him, you keep them covered, either by clothing or makeup. You know better than to draw attention towards them. Regardless of how you acquired them (Compound V or just an aesthetic choice) you know not to bring them up or let anyone else bring them up. A-Train noticed the one of the back of your neck and that put Homelander over the edge. You were both thrown out of the room. You consider yourself more than lucky. He could have killed you, both of you, but he was feeling generous. He had bigger things on his mind. You knew working for Vought would lead to sacrifices, uncomfortable situations, but being interrogated by Homelander about your tattoos was never something you ever considered. He thinks about using his lasers every time he sees them poking out from your sleeve or pants. But he needs you. As long as he needs you, you're safe. The moment you stop being useful, he's going to cut off every individual image until there's nothing left. Until you look normal again.

[adambja]

✴️THE SUBCONSCIOUS MIND✴️

The Guide - the only post you will ever need to understand how your subconscious mind works!

1. Time isn't real

Let me break it to you! Time isn't real at all cuz think about it all these hours and numbers are made by humans!

But how?!

They just track how the earth moves around the sun and that's all

Yes without time there will be morning and night and still these hours aren't real

As in whole THE UNIVERSE!! TIME DOESN'T EXIST IF YOU AREN'T ON THE EARTH!

which GETS US TO THAT ONE POINT

SUBCONSCIOUS MIND REPROGRAMMING DOESN'T TAKE 21 DAYS OR ANY TIME

Subconscious mind reprogramming is instant

That's why I always add it to my tapes as benefits and that's why I made the benefits! cuz it bypasses the conscious mind and it makes it easier for your subconscious to make it reality!

So basically it all comes down to what you assume!!

2. Languages

I got that question a lot about what if I can't speak English, will the affirmations work?

Yes ofc they will

whatever it's affirmations only or my tapes

Even if you make your own tapes it will work!!

3. Thoughts

Is it really "it is what it is"?

Yes, it is what it is

For ex.

if you think you already got 50k US DOLLARS you already have it it's that simple (like that success story a girl experienced with one of my free tapes she manifested 50k US DOLLARS! - also this one success story - The tape is on YouTube btw)

Again it all comes down to what you assume!

4. Assuming

Assuming hmmm... Do you know that all your thoughts are assumptions?

But there are two things about these thoughts!

Did you assume that they are real and true?

Do you assume that whatever you want is already achieved?

Do you assume that you are always right?

Or did you assume that it can't happen cuz you think you are lying!

Just be honest with yourself

Get a piece of paper and write everything you think about down ABOUT A SPECIFIC MANIFESTATION YOU GOT ON YOUR MIND!

And if you think you are lying why? Ask yourself! Make all that noise go away and clear it for yourself! You deserve better

Now this gets us to another point which is your manifesting self-concept and your self-concept they are very important for ur existence like they are the core of your life! So a little advice work on them then do whatever you want!

Cuz it changes the way you think and what you assume

So like a person with a bad or mid self-concept they will always assume the worst for themselves

Another person with a good self-concept they will be aware of who they are and what they are capable of!

5. Thoughts, Feelings and beliefs!

Again and again

How you feel is created by thought

Subconscious programming → beliefs → feelings → thoughts

So if you keep saying "oh I am sad" multiple times you will be sad it's just that simple

Use it for your own good!

And imagine what... Right now

Your beliefs will reflect in your reality after one thought instantly after reading this post so be careful cuz i already manifested this while typing this!

And listen to in control tape by me on YouTube!

Basically you can always create beliefs instantly cuz you believe that time isn't real... Did you know what we are doing here? Just assuming the best for us but you still have to be constant to get used to it and make it a part of your programming like everyday

Someone like me I enter the void every time I nap and sleep I got used to it and I don't even feel tired anymore when I wake up there and I don't use it that much anymore!

I literally enjoy how easy it is in life to do whatever I want and experience whatever I want!

6. Simple assumptions to have a good relationship with your subconscious mind

I will give you 10 affirmations from my paid subconscious mind tape at the end (I know it won't be the same as the tape itself because of the benefits but still it might help you guys!)

Do you know that your subconscious mind is here for you like a parent it's like your personal assistant - it has everything about you, your memories and it controls ur whole life it accepts every single thought you think about unless you say it it's not something you accept so it gets in your subconscious mind like "oh I don't accept this"

Even the negative statements your subconscious mind knows it negative!! Same thing with the positive statements

Like for ex.

I am not a bad person - negative statement

Your subconscious mind acknowledges it!

Your subconscious mind won't take it in like "I am a bad person" without the "not"

Even the same thing with

I am a good person - positive statement

Your subconscious mind acknowledges it TOO

The subconscious mind ACCEPTS THE NEGATIVE STATEMENTS TOO!

IT IS simply WHAT IT IS!!

It's not the opposite at all as some weird bloggers said! Or even that book about the subconscious mind it's called "the power of the subconscious mind by Joseph Murphy" it's full of bs and limiting beliefs - I genuinely hate it

I literally saw a coach in Saudi Arabia on X (PREVIOUSLY Twitter) selling a whole course for almost 30k USD and sharing all the limiting beliefs in that book and that was months ago!

I mean at least IF YOU ARE MAKING PEOPLE PAY FOR SOMETHING PROVIDE THEM WITH THE BEST THINGS AND INFORMATION

I hated how some people let some crazy stuff like that get to them without doing their own research or just creating their own rules!!

Be a little independent please for your own good

Your subconscious mind can be programmed instantly YOU DON'T NEED ANY TIME all you need to realize and understand is that yes "I always reprogram my subconscious mind instantly" and YOU JUST NEED comfort and just repeating the affs - this is a way

Another way to do it - make your own tapes and it's just repetition

Another way to do it - simply be it be whatever you want to be! Like it's already you!

One last way to do it - my free tapes + paid tapes they are very effective they work from the first listen because they have benefits again what actually made my tapes get that much success stories is the benefits

I am gonna upload 2 new free tapes they are small but very effective! Everyone here will like them!!

🎀10 Affirmations for your subconscious mind🎀

from my paid subconscious mind tape

Affirmations:

Me and my subconscious mind are one.

My subconscious mind already accepts everything I say as true.

My subconscious mind already accepts everything think about as true.

My subconscious mind is already my best friend forever.

My subconscious mind always helps me with everything.

My subconscious mind always loves me.

My subconscious mind always helps me reach my highest potential in this lifetime!

My subconscious mind already believes what I want it to believe easily effortlessly quickly and instantly.

My subconscious mind always manifests everything I want easily effortlessly and instantly.

I have a perfect relationship with my subconscious mind.

Thank you guys for all the support and love and I hope this post helped you!

If you have any questions you can always send an ask I will be happy to answer them whenever I am free! Also you can dm me if you want a paid tape or a custom tape!

One last thing these tapes are with benefits they aren't like any other tapes that are available everywhere these days! 🎀

Enjoy!💗

[andragoras-in-vanity]

you dont even need transtape specifically, its the same "lifting" stuff you can get at any la senza or victorias secrets for ten bucks. duck tape will cost you more, but also just use a sports bra ans stitch in some extra foam to smooth out the widest part of your chest down to the widest part of your ribs. you can do that with some spare fabric rolled up under a tight tank top from the thrift store.

Trans Girls and Guys: Is There a Safe Way to Chest-bind with Ducktape?

I want to bind with tape. Is there a safe way to do it with ducktape? Trans tape is too expensive. I know some trans women tuck with ducktape so I'm wondering how that'd work on a chest. Only asking this as a sort of last ditch effort. I'm saving up for bind-safe tape soon. Any answer helps, thanks ladies and fellas.

[mdsbabygirl]

“IF HE CHEATING I'M DOING HIM WORSE”

🌶️SMUT⚠️MDNI🔞

Pairing: Sanzu Haruchiyo x  fem!reader x Haitani brothers

Synopsis: when your bf sanzu Haruchiyo cheats on you w another bitch, you decide to get back at him by fucking his co-mobsters.. cuz you don't care, he did it first...

Wc: 3,5k

Cw: cheater¡Bonten!Sanzu, cheater!reader, Bonten!Ran, Bonten!Rindou, sanzu was your bf, Sanzu is a bitch NGL, reader is a bit bitchy and vengeful, the bros are overly flirty perverted assholes, vulgar language, heavy smut, threesome, double penetration, nipple play, clit play, BJs, sex tape, a bit of exhibitionism, facials, creampie, slight degradation (slut, whore), uses of pet names(doll, princess..), etc.

Lil note: so sorry for the sanzu stans, I luv my Haru as much as y'all do but I had to .. I HAD TO MAKE HIM A BITCH LOL

"Oh fuck you're so tight -" he moaned In the dead of night, as he thrusted inside you with a fierce, wild passion. The room was engulfed in lust-filled darkness, the only light coming from the flickering streetlights outside.

"Mm, more, Haru... Don't stop," you moaned, as his relentless pursuit of his own high carried both of you towards your imminent climax. His face was a picture of pure desire, his  eyebrows scrunched and mouth open agape as he gasped for air. His strong, muscular arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as he continued to pound into you with an insatiable hunger.

But as he chased his high, something inside you started to feel off. Your pleasure, once all-consuming, now seemed distant and muted, leaving you wanting, unsatisfied, even a bit drained.

A bead of sweat dripped down Haruchiyo's temple as he grunted, a deep groan rumbling in his chest. The intensity of his thrusts was growing, and in a flash, he came inside you. Wave after wave of hot, sticky release coated the insides of your cunt, and you could only watch, a mixture of pleasure and unease curling in the pit of your stomach.

Moments later, you followed, your orgasm finally reaching the surface. But instead of the heady, satisfying bliss you'd grown accustomed to, the climax felt like a hollow echo.

As you came down from your high, you couldn't help but question the change in your passion. You'd been together for months, but tonight, the fire in you seemed to have dimmed.

He slowly pulled out, letting his tired body fall beside you, his chest heaving up and down with each breath he was taking. He didn't even look at you, he just turned to his side and quickly fell asleep..

That was surely weird asf.. he'd usually snuggle against you, cuddle you and tell you how amazing you were and how happy you make him feel.. but lately, he's been cold and distant, not giving you the attention you craved for, and today you felt overjoyed when he initiated intimacy for the first time in weeks..

You were euphoric when he asked you to ‘make love’ to him..  all those gut wrenching scenarios of him not loving you anymore or even cheating on you fading away in mere seconds. But.. let's be honest.. it didn't feel that good, maybe it's because you forgot how it felt or maybe he was tired and thus this wasn't his best performance or maybe... You fell out of love?

You sighed, pushing away those taunting thoughts and deciding to go to sleep. You'll confront him tomorrow about this, now you're both—he was— way too tired to talk this out.

Beep.. you heard a notification. You opened your eyes wondering who could be messaging you at this time of night . But it wasn't your phone, it was Sanzu's.. assuming it was his fellow gang members, you didn't want to invade his privacy so u just went back to sleep..

Beep..beep.. beep beep beep

Ok now you were really starting to get irritated. Not only was your bf's performance awful, but you also couldn't sleep cuz his phone was beeping like crazy.. "wtf could these fuckers want?" You mumbled softly, as you reached for Sanzu's phone and opened to see the messages.

Sanzu I miss you already

Can't wait to have you back in my bed

I'm so needy for you daddy

Sanzu I'm touching myself thinking ab you

Your jaw dropped as you read those messages. Who was the bitch who sent them? And why was she texting YOUR BF in the dead of night? You were FUMING with rage  already, the last straw  being a nude Pic of some girl fingering herself.

So.. it was all a lie.. all those times Sanzu told you he loved you and cared for you.. it was all an illusion. All the times he'd ignore your calls, refuse to hang out with you under the pretext of being  too tired or having plans w the gang, he was out there doing some other bitch..

Saying you felt betrayed and angry was an understatement.. the world shattered around you as a sense of betrayal consumed you in a heartbeat. The surging rage inside you, made you think about how to actually murder your cheating bf and how to get away with it .. but let's be honest, you'd face serious consequences if you did that, so instead you'll just stick to revenge.. cuz Vendetta sounds hotter than murder.

You scowled, looking at his sleeping form, disgusted by his audacity of fucking you after sticking his dick in some stupid cheap whore he probably found in their clubs .. THE CLUB! THAT'S HOW YOU WERE GOING TO GET REVENGE ON HIM!! You're going to dress real slutty, go to the club and.. FUCK THE TWO PERSONS HE COULDN'T STAND THE MOST.. THE HAITANI BROTHERS... that's your revenge plan.

You quickly went to get ready, careful not to wake him up. You did your hair, put on your fav makeup, and wore the sluttiest most gorgeous dress you owned, then headed out of your shared apartment and took a cab for the club.

On your way there you texted Ran, asking if he was there with his brother to which he affirmed.. he still asked you why were you looking for them out of the blue, but u dismissed everything saying you just wanted to catch up.. pfft, nah u just wanted to fuck them, but u liked being mysterious.

Once you arrived there, you saw Ran waiting for you in front of the entrance, smoking a cigarette. His lips curled in his usual cocky grin when he saw you, taking one last drag out of his cigarettes before throwing it down, stepping on it and blowing out the smoke. "Long time no see y/n! Where's your asshole bf?" He chucked as he greeted you, his greedy eyes scanning you up and down before quickly fixating on your plump tits.

"Yeah it's been a while..and about him ..." You responded in a sultry, intoxicating voice, but as you were about to finish, Rindou suddenly joined you. "Ran, where tf did you go? Oh, hi y/n!" The younger one said annoyed at his brother before turning to greet you.

"Oh yk, I just got out to smoke this cig .. and talk to this pretty lady right here!" He said smugly, gesturing to you as he looked you flirtatiously, his cocky smirk never fading from his face.

Meanwhile, his younger brother was unimpressed with his brother's flirting methods. He just rolled his eyes, before smacking his arm, reminding him you were taken, "dumbass she's dating Sanzu. I don't think you need anymore trouble with that mf" he spoke in a bored tone.

"As if I was afraid o-" "we're not together anymore!" You cut Ran off, dropping this bombshell on them so nonchalantly. The way you sounded so cocky, almost proud of yourself made the two turn their head at you, their eyes wide open as they tried to process what they've just heard..

"Really? You guys aren't together anymore?" Rindou asked, "why?" Ran added.. you just chuckled in a slutty way, making your way in the club, your hips swaying so gracefully with each of your steps before you turned your head to face them, bending over ever so slightly just to let them get a glimpse of your red laced thong.. "get in! I'll let y'all know everything after you'll serve me the best tequila you have here!" You giggled before entering the VIP section..

A few drinks in, you started telling them ab this whole mess of a situation, all giggly and cunty as the alcohol started to get the best of you. "And that's how I found out my asshole bf is a cheater! Hahaha" you laughed as you sipped your now fourth shot of tequila.

The brothers were sitting on either of your sides, both chuckling with you, feeling amused by your story, and the way you were shitting on Sanzu.. it was hilarious for them. but honestly, your words weren't the only captivating thing ab you that night. That form-fitting tube dress really did accentuate your curves magnificently, showcasing your perfectly rounded hips and supple, full buttocks while enhancing your breasts.

You could already see the tent in their pants, their hard ons feeling so constricted from the tight fabric. You smirked, knowing damn well you were on the right path. "whatcha' looking at down there?" You heard Rindou say, his suave voice pulling you out of your thoughts. "oh, a lot of things.." you spoke seductively, your sultry voice drawing them in with a siren's allure.

Ran chuckled at your response, his hand coming to rest on your thigh, squeezing the soft flesh before turning his gaze to you, "yk.. if we were your bfs, we wouldn't have done such thing to you!" He spoke, his voice so husky and hot that it send tingles of excitement down to your little clit .. he smirked devilishly to Rindou, who wrapped his arm around your waist pulling you closer to him, and whispering lowly into your ear, "oh no no no .. we'd treat you like the princess you are!" "Or like the slut you wanna be!" Ran added, his breath feeling hot against your skin, as he too whispered in your ear, making the little hairs on the back of your neck stand and your mind wander.

***TIME SKIP***

As you lay on the bed, your heart racing with  anticipation, Ran positioned himself beside your head, while Rindou knelt between your trembling thighs. With a wicked glint in his eyes, Ran shoved his rock-hard cock past your lips, the warm, wet heat of your mouth enveloping his throbbing length.

Simultaneously, Rindou's skilled tongue began its work, plunging into your slick, wet folds, swirling and lapping at your clit. The dual assault on your senses was enough to make you gag on Ran's cock, the overwhelming sensations of his girth combined with Rindou's relentless tongue driving you to the edge of blissful, mind-numbing ecstasy.

Ran's cocky demeanor, only served to heighten your arousal. He gripped the back of your head, thrusting his manhood further down your throat as he growled in satisfaction. "Mhmm.. fuck your throat's amazing ahh"

Rindou, on the other hand, watched you with predatory hunger as he feasted on your wet, aching flesh. "Your pussy is fucking wet, haha. Thinking I've just gotten started" he chuckled smugly.

His fingers splayed on the soft curves of your ass, as his digits sensually massaged your backdoor hole, rubbing in all that slick to make it extra slippery.

Your body shook with each of Ran's powerful thrusts, a guttural moan escaping his lips, as your throat clenched around his hard dick. "Fuck doll, your so goddamn tight shit ..." He grunted through gritted teeth.

Your back arched involuntarily as Rindou's finger delved into your anus, the pressure and sensation sending electric sparks of pleasure coursing through your entire body. Your breath hitched as his skilled fingers teased your sensitive rosette, while Ran's thrusts grew more intense, each one a testament to the animalistic hunger that raged within him.

Sweat dripped down your temples as your mind whirred, your body on the precipice of shattering under the unrelenting, merciless onslaught of pleasure.

Rindou's fingering was enough to push you over the edge, a deafening, orgasmic cry escaping your lips as your core clenched and released in a mind-shattering climax. "Fucking cum in my mouth princess!" His moan muffled by his continuous lapping at your folds, trying to drink up all your sweet juices oozing outra your Cunt.

Ran chuckled at your reaction, withdrawing from your mouth, a  smirk playing on his lips. Rindou, having claimed his own satisfaction, pulled his fingers from your quivering ass and leaned in to kiss your swollen, slick lips. "You're in for a long night!" Rindou said, his voice tinged with malice, "we're not done with you yet little whore" added Ran in a smug tone, lowering his head to press his lips on yours, capturing them in a hungry fiery kiss that reflected his lustful need for your body..

"Flip her over Rindou, I need to fuck her!" He turned to his brother, both of them smirking, knowing they'll ruin you for good tonight.

An idea suddenly came to the younger one's mind, a wicked grin appearing in his face. His older brother caught onto his expression.. "Aniki.. what if we film this.. yk to remember this moment!" He spoke, his gaze fixed upon you as you lay, exhausted and spent, upon the bed. Ran chuckled, very much enjoying his idea. "And that's why you're the best lil bro!" He patted his shoulder.

With the phones set up to capture every detail of your sinful desires, Ran and Rindou wasted no time in maneuvering you into position. Gently, but with urgency, they flipped you onto your hands and knees, your ass presented and your head dangling down.

Rindou, the more muscular of the two, positioned himself behind you, his strong arms wrapping around your chest as he lined up his cock with your tight entrance. As he began to thrust into you from behind, you could feel the thickness of his girth stretching you wide, the sensation of his well-defined pecs and sculpted arms brushing against your back with each powerful thrust.

Meanwhile, Ran, the lanky one, took up position between your legs, his cock already coated in your saliva, ready to invade your dripping cunt. He teased your quivering clit and swollen, his fingertips dancing around it as his shaft rubbed against your swollen labia, eliciting breathless gasps from you.

Once he had your cunt dripping wet, he slid inside, burying his rock-hard length to the hilt, your inner walls clenching around his girth like a velvet vice. "Oh shit, that feels goddamn good" he groaned, his gaze lowering to where you were greedily sucking him in.

The twin sensations of their cocks, one thick and veiny, the other long and lean, filled you, stretching you beyond your wildest dreams, leaving you to moan and squirm beneath their masterful touch.

Both men took turns on you, their skilled hands roamed your body, pinching, pulling and massaging your erect nipples into throbbing peaks. Rindou would tug at one while Ran sucked the other, the erotic mix of sensations sending shivers down your spine. You arched your back in response, begging for more, their cocks filling you with an intensity you never knew existed.

Ran's tempo grew faster and his cock dug deeper into your cunt with each thrust. In contrast, Rindou's slow, deliberate strokes from behind created a perfect rhythm, your cunt and ass being filled with a perfect balance of control and fervor.

Their animalistic grunts and your increasingly frantic whimpers filled the room, the sound of their flesh smacking against yours a sensual chorus. Your body, pushed to the very edge, was at their mercy, your mind drowning in pleasure as you teetered on the precipice of orgasm.

The pressure was unbearable, and you knew that release was imminent. As Rindou's powerful hands clamped onto your hips, pulling you back onto his thick cock with an unrestrained ferocity, Ran bit down on your neck, hard, leaving a stinging hickey.

It was then that the crescendo hit you like a freight train. "ungghhh.. ungghhh.. r-rindouuu.. Raaaan.. ahhh fuck it's too much I'm cumming!" You cried out, your body convulsing in the most intense orgasm you'd ever experienced, your pussy milking Ran's cock, and your ass clenching around Rindou's as they continued to fuck you relentlessly.

"Fuck I'm close.. ahh fuck" Rindou grunted, his grip on your waist tightening to the point of bruising you. Ran grinned, his thrown back head coming down to look at your disheveled state, hair and makeup all messed up, drool dripping out of your gaping mouth, skin full of bruises, bite marks and hickeys. "Yeah.. Ig I'm close too" he replied lowly, smirking, as he panted ... He was getting closer and closer by the second.

"Hey Rin" he called out, "wanna cum on her face?" He suggested, his voice thick with malice. Rindou was fond of the idea, nodding as they both pulled out of your abused, fluttering holes... They'll be filled up on another occasion.

They quickly flipped you over, your fucked out face making them laugh at your messed up and untidy state.. "I bet Sanzu never made her feel this good!" Ran said, his low chuckles echoing through the room. "Maybe we'll show him what real fucking looks like!" Rindou added, a sly smirk painting his face.. they both laughed, before they grabbed their phones, pointing it at your pretty face, as they stroked their throbbing cocks.

As you lay there, your body still quivering from the explosive orgasm that washed over you, your mind was hazy and euphoric. Yet, even in this blissful state, your dedication to them was unwavering, so you presented your eager face to them.

Hasty to repay their efforts, you took their cocks into your mouth, your tongue swirling around their throbbing head, your skilled hands working their shafts in perfect sync. As they grunted and moaned, the tension between you grew, their arousal and your attentiveness driving them closer to the edge. "Damn doll, didn't know you could be such a slut!" Rindou moaned as he felt himself very close.

Just as you felt their balls tighten, their throbbing cocks swelling with impending release, Ran decided to facetime Sanzu, he wanted to show him what he got for cheating on such a beauty like you. The pinquette picked up the phone, looking rather pissed at seeing his face. "Tf you want Haitani?" He grumbled.. "oh me? Nothing.. but your girl might want something from me and my brother!" He giggled devilishly before he turned the camera, showing how eagerly you sucked their dicks, begging them to cum on your face. To say that Sanzu's face went pale is an understatement, and before he could cuss you all out, Rindou grabbed the phone and said "fuck you asshole, your gf likes our cocks better" Before they both hung up on him, throwing the phone across the room and getting their whole attention back on fucking your mouth.

"Fucking asshole, he'll definitely come here to kick our asses!"

"As if I cared!" Rindou continued, before he started slamming his hips harder in your mouth, your tight orifice struggling to take them both at the same time.

Your tongue danced along the veiny underside of his throbbing shaft, while your right hand pumped Ran's length with feverish fervor. The sight of their cocks, slick with your saliva, coated in your eager attentions, had their eyes glazing over with lust.

Their hips bucked forward, the urge to spill their seed onto your beautiful face growing more insistent. "Oh fuck, I'm gonna drop a fat load" With a guttural moan, Rindou's release exploded forth, his hot, sticky cum splattering against your forehead, cheeks, and chin, coating you in his essence.

"I'm gonna glaze your face with my cum baby" Ran moaned loudly, before following suit, as his own release pulsed from the tip of his cock, joining Rindou's in decorating your lovely face. The brothers, satiated and breathless, watched as you lapped up the remnants, leaving your face glistening with their combined seed.

"Damn... Sanzu doesn't know what he fucking Lost!" Ran breathed out exhaustedly before collapsing next to you, followed by Rindou. They both wrapped their arms around your figure, pulling you closer to their sticky bodies as they pulled the covers over you all, and succumbed to deep sleep.

The next morning, you were woken up by loud shouting and shattering noses. Curious, you quickly put on a shirt you randomly found on the ground, and went to see what all the fuss was about.

As you stormed into the living room, you were immediately confronted with the sight of a furious Sanzu, locked in heated combat with the two brothers. They bickered and cursed, the room flooding with a palpable tension.

You stood resolutely between the three men, hands on your hips as you glared at Sanzu. "What the hell are you doing here, you asshole?!" you roared. "What the fuck are you doing here?!" you repeated, fuming. "What were you thinking when you fucked these two, piece of shit excuses for men? Do you not know they don't give a single damn about you?!"

Sanzu tried to interject, but your lightning-fast hand found his cheek, delivering a sharp, stinging slap. "Care about me? You think I don't know you've been getting your rocks off with some random slut behind my back? Spare me the 'it was a mistake' bullshit, because we're done." You spoke in clipped, angry syllables, your gaze unwavering.

The brothers behind you failed miserably in their attempts to suppress their laughter, their uncontrolled giggles an insult to the severity of the situation. As you stood there, glaring at your ex, you couldn't help but feel a wave of exasperation: men were indeed a ridiculous bunch.

©2024MDsbabygirl do not copy or translate my work without my permission.

[strawberryicedcookies]

HOW I MANIFESTED HANGING OUT WITH MY SP IN UNDER 3 DAYS.

this post is about my last sp update!! im going in depth on how i did it because yesterday i was so excited and typing on alot of adrenaline, so i didnt even go into enough detail on how i did it 😂😂.

When i first started affirming for him, i didnt believe my affirmations, but thats why i was affirming. I never want you guys to think you need to believe your affirmations right away. I was constantly affirming that he needed me, he loves me, we always hang out (hanging out with him was the main goal.)

When i first started manifesting him, we werent even close friends at all, but one thing about manifestation, everything will pull you to your desire. EVERYTHING that happens will bring you closer to your desire.

I would affirm ATLEAST 10k times a day (using the counter app), i did guided meditations EVERY NIGHT for those 3 days, i did SATS, subliminals, affirmation tapes, self concept work. Baby i was SATURATING MY MIND (doing my 3 day challenge).

After the first day, i genuinely believed that he was mine, i believed that i was dating him, it felt so natural. Then he texted me out of the complete blue, we started texting ALL DAY and the next day we talked at school all day, he texted me when we got home, we were just talking all the time. I wasn’t done though, i was manifesting that we would hang out and i wasn’t stopping until we did 🤷🏿‍♀️ i wasn’t about to take a half-assed manifestation, i wanted to hangout with him, so i was going to (this was day 2 btw).

I never stopped affirming bro, i persisted persisted persisted. The next day randomly my sister said her friend was going to pick us up and we were going to window shop at target. I was still manifesting in my head at this point, i knew that my SP was going to hangout with me, i just didn’t know how. Then my sister suggested that we eat at mcdonalds before we go to target, so we go to McDonalds. When i got there, some of my friends (they were also mutual friends with my SP) were already eating there so i decided to talk with them. (my SP was still not there, and tbh, i didnt know if he was coming at all. but i wasnt even worried about that, I knew we were going to hangout today regardless). Next thing i know, after about 30 minutes of talking with my friends, i see SP walking up to the mcdonalds after his basketball practice!!! We start talking and we end up staying there for like another hour or so. Then, when the whole group finished eating (it was like 6 of us at this point). he got into my friends tiny ass car with me and my friends and some of his friends 😂 (for reference it was 6 of us in a 4 seater) so me and my SP were SO CLOSE. We had the most fun hangout!! (we never ended up going to target, thats the most ironic part 😂 if we had went to target right away, i would’ve never seen my SP. Thats why i say that everything is pushing you closer to your manifestation.) 3 DAYS IS ALL IT TOOK , because i ASSUMED thats all it would take. I wasnt overthinking, i wasnt worried about when it would happen, i knew that all i needed was 3 days, and i left it at that. STOP WORRYING ABOUT THE HOW!!! Everything is working to bring your manifestation to you, rest assured!!

if you assume that you can manifest them instantly, then you can. Its whatever you assume that manifests. In my success story post, i showed yall a little bit of my affirmation list, and yall SAW that he did EXACTLY WHAT I AFFIRMED. Manifestation is PERFECT, whatever you affirm WILL HAPPEN, not slightly, FULLY!!

so to wrap it up, how is manifested hanging out with him and having the fun of my life.

-long ass affirmation list that i repeated

- SATs and guided meditations

- robotic affirming (with and without the counter app

- constantly listening to affirmation tapes/subliminals

-living in the wish full filled (i believed he was mine and that we always hang out)

- detaching and not focusing on how it would happen

- did not overconsume manifesting tips, i knew how you manifest, so i put it to practice

- saturated the FUCK out of my subconscious

- hella self concept work.

REMEMBER!! methods dont manifest, YOU DO!!

[yelenasdiary]

Hi how about an enemy to lovers with Yelena were in their last mission they somehow get handcuffed to each other and until the team can get them off they are off duty and having to deal with eachother (their feelings)

Cuffin' Season

Pairing: Yelena Belova x GN! Reader

Summary: You and Yelena find yourselves in a situation neither of you want to be in

Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Language Warning | 1.8K

AC: Thank you for sending this! Sorry it took so long; please ignore the cringe title lmao! I hope you enjoy it! x

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” You groaned, throwing your head back against the wall. Yelena sighed heavily, for the last 20 minutes or so, the two of you have been trying to escape a from each other. Yelena still trying to wrap her head around how on earth the target tricked you both and was able to keep you both hostage, not the classic tried to a chair with duct tape across your lips. No, this was the worst kind of being kept hostage. 

“Stop tugging!” Yelena said, rolling her eyes. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, does that hurt? Is being tugged by the fucking wrist hurt the tough Russian spy?” You snapped in frustration. “You know, if it wasn’t for Natasha needing Kate, she’d be the one hand cuffed to you and I wouldn’t be sitting here wishing THEY WOULD KILL ME ALREADY!” You added, yelling out to your kidnappers. 

“They’re not going to kill us” Yelena said. 

“I wish they would!” 

“Alright, what the hell is your problem?” Yelena snapped, looking to you. “What do you mean? You’re the one with the problem” you argued. 

Yelena cocked a brow, “you think I’m the one with the problem? You’ve never liked me; you can’t even stand to be in the same room with me” she replied watching you try to squeeze your hand out of the handcuff. “Nope, that’s all you, spy! I’ve never been nothing by nice to you, but I guess you’re too high and mighty to see that and now thanks to you, we’re trapped and I’m probably going to die handcuffed to you”

“Thanks to me?” Yelena frowned, “do you hear yourself right now? You’re the one the fell for the damn trap. I followed you to stop you, don’t you remember that? Probably not because you can’t do any wrong!” She added causing you to stop your actions and look at her with anger in your eyes. 

“You want to do this now? Right now? Instead of trying to escape you want to play the damn blame game?!” 

“If the shoe fits, why not” Yelena spat. 

“Agh! You’re so unbearable! I can’t believe you think this is my fault! You’re the one who told me to go ahead, it’s like you knew this was going to happen” you argued. 

“I was talking to Kate! I had to wait for you to shut your pipe hole for a second so she could finish her sentence, I said “go ahead, Kate” Yelena corrected you, your mind having a small flash back to that moment. You were so annoyed that you had been paired with the one person who hated you the most that you when you heard her say ‘go ahead’ you took it as her giving you instructions. 

Silence fell, you rolled your eyes once more at the blonde before trying yet another pointless attempt to set yourself free. “Seriously, stop tugging!” Yelena tugged her left wrist, pulling your right wrist to her. 

“Ouch!” You groaned at the pain, before tugging back. Yelena took a deep breath to keep herself from exploding over your childlike behavior, the two of you hated being cuffed together, if anything, this was the most that the two of you had ever spoken to one another. When you first met Yelena, she gave you a similar vibe that Natasha did when you first met her, so you just assumed it would be a little bit of work to break the widow and the two of you would get along after but no, not Yelena. You’ve been on two other missions with her in the past, both missions went quick and rather smoothly but again, such little conversation was ever exchanged between you both. 

Outside of work, Yelena simply made it obvious to you that she wasn’t a fan of you. So naturally, you stopped trying to win the assassin over and found yourself giving her the same cold vibe she would give you. It made things harder given that you were both great friends of Kate’s and the poor archer hated seeing her two closest friends hating one another. But what you didn’t know was the little secret that Yelena had let slip to Kate one night after a few too many shots of Vodka. 

As time passed, you and Yelena sat in silence. Both of you quietly tried to work out a plan to get out of the situation you were in but neither of you wanted to bring your ideas to the table first. “If we work together, we can get out of here” Yelena says with a light sigh, breaking the silence. 

“What do you think I’ve tried to do this entire mission?” You replied, not trying to snap back at her but her comment slightly annoyed you. “You just hate working with me” you added. 

Yelena looked over at you, “how about once we get out of here, we never have to work together again” she says in a calm tone. 

“Perfect! Can’t wait” you gave her a fake smile before her eyes quickly turned to the banging sound of guns outside the door. The two of you instantly went into fight or flight, just waiting for whatever was going to happen come through that door. 

You let out a sigh of relief when you saw Natasha standing in the doorway with a cocked brow, Kate standing slightly behind her. “Well, don’t you two look cozy” Nat commented, earning herself a death stare from her sister. “Have you got the keys?” You asked, ignoring the comment from the older widow. 

“I’ll go find them” you heard Kate say before rushing off. Natasha stood still with a growing smirk as she looked at the two of you, “which one of you wants to tell me how this happened?” She asked before letting out a chuckle. 

“Shut up!” Yelena spat. 

----

Back at the compound, free from being cuffed to Yelena, you just sat down on the edge of your bed, letting out a heavy sigh as you rubbed the handcuff markings on your wrist. Your mind replaying everything that had happened on the mission, trying to work out if you were the one that put you and Yelena in that situation or if it was just a case of bad lucky. Did you the two of you let your hatred for one another get in the way of a mission or was it something much more than that? These thoughts circled your mind until you heard a knock at your bedroom door. 

You opened it only to see Yelena standing there, “can I help you?” You asked kindly although Yelena was the last person you wanted to see right now. 

“Can I come in?” She asked taking you by surprise. You nodded and opened the door wider for her to enter. She walked in and noticed the little things about your room layout, where your perfume sat on a shelf, how neatly your close were hanging in your opened closet, your favorite movie as a poster on one of the walls, all these little things she smiled softly to herself about. 

“If you’re come to give me a lecture about the mission, I won’t want to hear it” you said as you wandered over to your dresser to apply some cream to your hands and wrists. Yelena turned around to face you, “I didn’t come here to lecture you. I came here to tell you that I don’t hate you” she replied. You frowned slightly as you looked back at her, “you don’t?” You questioned. 

Yelena shook her head, “I’ve never hated you” 

“T-then why you act like you do?” 

Yelena took a deep breath and took a seat at the end of your bed, placing her hands in her lap before she looked up at you once more. “I told Kate what happened today, and she said it would be best if I just come clean to you” she started. 

“Clean to me?” You questioned. 

“I don’t hate you, in fact, it’s the opposite to hate” 

Her reply only added to your confusion, “so you what? Dislike me? Or is it you can tolerate me?” You asked. It was your words that quickly told Yelena that this wasn’t going how she thought it would and quickly tried to fix it before this would escalate into yet another argument. 

“Try, I have feelings for you” she replied, her eyes slightly dropping to your feet. Her confession took you back, not once did you ever think that Yelena’s behavior towards you was because she had possible feelings for you. “I know it’s probably not what you expected but putting Kate’s advice aside for a moment, after today and the way we talked to one another wasn’t okay. I didn’t know that’s how you felt until today. I didn’t think that I was giving you the impression that I hated you” she paused as you slowly rubbed the cream into your skin while listening to her continue. 

“I’ve never looked at somebody and have my heart skip a beat, I’ve never heard somebody talk to me and wish they would never stop, I’ve never had somebody smile at me and that make me nervous. I guess I was so cold to you because I didn’t know how to be around you so I guess I thought that if I was distant with you that I wouldn’t feel these things, but I spoke to Kate and she told me that what I feel is okay” she went on. 

You wandered over to her and sat beside her, “well, I can say I’m so glad that you came to me. I thought I was going mad” you looked to her, “you’re not the only one who has feelings in this” you added.

Yelena’s eyes lit up, “do you mean y-“ 

You nodded before she could finish her question, “I don’t like the saying ‘if they’re mean to you it’s because they like you’ but I guess it has some kind of truth” you added, making you both chuckle. Gently, you took Yelena’s left hand into yours, “we don’t have to act on these feelings if you don’t want too or not ready, I don’t ever want to push you” you assured her. 

“Being handcuffed to you has been the highlight of my week, I would like to explore these feelings more, but it needs to be slowly” Yelena replies. You couldn’t help but smile softly at her, “we have all the time in the world, there is no need to rush anything”

You noticed Yelena blush a little at your words and you swore, if you could, you’d kiss her right then and there but you wanted this to work and right now, you were finally able to see a side of Yelena you wish you saw sooner.

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[frracturedjaw]

Hi Hope u already did one but maybe s/o sleeping without pants because it's hot af and I am dying here :,)

Have a great day/night/morning :D

unspecified so i just did a few short ones for bo, vinny, and tommy.

warning(s): a little suggestive in some places

a/n: sorry this took nearly four months teehee

bo sinclair

* he could care less about nudity. he grew up with brothers, louisiana is hotter than hell. he gets it. however…

* he sees you half naked in any context and his mind is already going two hundred miles an hour into everything he wants to do to you. zero filter zero hesitation.

* assuming you’re already asleep, he’s not going to act on those thoughts. but he’s definitely chewing his lip and gripping the front of his jeans like the pervert he is.

* when you groan and twist around on top of the sheets, something changes, though.

* he’s still imagining himself pressed up on you. but he’s thinking more about how your legs would feel tangled up with his own.

* the twin pumping of your hearts. the feel of your breath fanning across his chest. each other’s hands curled up into one another so hard that his knuckles get sore.

* he wants the marks he leaves on you to be not from his tools, his pliers or his tape or his knife, but from him. his skin on yours. the pressure of your weight on him.

* you wake when he drops his belt and it clinks loudly in the little bedroom. there’s a mild panic in your expression that makes his chest twinge.

* but when he slips into bed and you shift to press the entire length of your body against him. when you fit your chin over his shoulder and hook a leg over his hip. when your breathing returns to the slow in, pause, out.

* that night he dreams of the usual things. his parents, the tourists, the museum. but also of you. just you.

* you making breakfast

* you sitting on the back porch

* you laying with your head in his lap

* for the first night in a very long time, bo sinclair sleeps peacefully.

vincent sinclair

* you’d been wandering around the basement all day in an effort to stay cool, but all the hot wax made it fruitless. eventually you’d vanished upstairs to one of the empty bedrooms.

* he comes up to find you later on, finally peeling off his sweater and tying his hair back for a moment of relief.

* he walks into the bedroom and freezes at the threshold.

* you look straight from a botticelli painting. you look like Bouguereau. you look like Picou and Matisse and Klimt

* you look cut from marble and silk cloth, crystal and soft earth and sun

* you look like sky and sweet and home and being held and warm breath and moving water.

* his breath hitches when the bed creaks under his weight.

* he counts. you breathe two, three, four long lungfuls of the cool blue night air. then you reach up at him.

* vincent gathers you in his arms like you’re quicksilver. like you’re going to dissolve through the bed and deep into the earth if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. like he’ll die without you.

* (he’s convinced he might)

thomas hewitt

* he’s wracked with guilt when he first walks in on you asleep without all your clothes on. Luda Mae taught him better than this.

* but… you’re in his bed.

* he has half the mind to go sleep on the couch, but the heat would be even worse downstairs.

* he says a quick prayer for forgiveness and walks in with his eyes averted and does his best to go about his business getting ready for bed.

* he himself usually sleeps in just a shirt and boxers, but for whatever reason, you doing the same feels… intimate. you’re not exposed in that way, but at the same time, it’s still vulnerable.

* after standing (looming) over the bed for longer than is probably appropriate, he eases himself into bed beside you.

* his eyes wander to the tender apex of your thighs, admiring the soft flesh usually hidden from sight

* you adjust in your sleep, rolling to your back. he watches the lengths of muscle in your legs flex, then relax. your shirt rides up somewhat, revealing more supple skin

* he squeezes his eyes shut and leans back. he shouldn’t be taking advantage of the situation like this. if he has any respect for you, he should be showing it here.

* he tucks his hands underneath his legs for good measure and examines the speckled darkness behind his eyelids until sleep finds him.

* naturally, he wakes up the next morning with you on top of him.

* your head is turned to the side, your ear to his chest. your limbs have fallen to either side of him, but his shirt is clutched tight in one of your hands.

* where your skin meets his, he doesn’t feel the usual startling, crackling sensation of being touched without warning.

* he just feels warm. weight. the pink mark on the side of your face where you’ve been pressed against him makes his mouth twitch with a smile.

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XXIII)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts 💚 (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... J'onn broke the news that Danny thinks he's going to be forced into combat in exchange for his medical care. Everyone disliked that™.

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

COME GET YOUR NEW ART HERE 💥🍳!!💥 IT'S FIBERCRAFT!!Shoutout to @rainbowbeansprout for crocheting a fic accurate injured ghost Danny!! That's outstanding!!

💚👻👽👻💚

So, Wally broke all of the bones in his legs yesterday.

Which is…not ideal. Still. He’s pretty used to it at this point, though, and he’s already mostly healed.

It’s just that. Well.

…The rest of healing is kind of…time-consuming.

So Wally’s in basketball shorts and a mask and a t-shirt he’d started using as pajamas when he was in college and he’s on the med floor of the Watchtower, and yet another physical therapist is helping him bend his leg back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, because he’d tripped in the middle of the Speedforce and busted everything hip-down.

So. (Back, and forth. Back, and forth. Back…) This sucks.

“Do we have to do this every time?” Wally asks, as if there isn’t a team of medical professionals kept on hand to deal with Superpower-wrought Super Medical Problems.

“Do you have to shatter your legs every time?” the PT asks back wryly, which, hey! The pressure pressing up against his bare foot is an additional stressor to the sass. “Bend this more for me, Flash. You can do it.”

Wally grumbles, and pretends the angle his leg is bending at doesn’t make him wince. Wow is he going to have to build his flexibility back up again.

The physical therapy room looks just like any other gym, basically; a lot of squishy mats in playful colors, a lot of grippy tape; a LOT of wipeable vinyl surfaces that can be sanitized at a moment’s notice. It smells kind of weird and plasticky and kind of like alcohol cleaner.

It’s not his favorite room in the Watchtower, but, eh. It could be way worse. What’s unusual is the whirrr of the door opening and closing in one of the private care rooms for another patient, since, you know...HIPAA and all that. Wally assumes. Or is it costume confidentiality once you leave Earth's atmosphere...?

Usually everyone knows who’s stopping in for PE through the sheer power of the Justice League gossip groupchats. (There’s at least nine. Wally’s in four of them. He aspires to be in two more by April.) There hasn’t been a big fight that requires long-term medical care in a while, and there’s no one Wally can think of who’d need this kind of recovery.

Something’s buzzing at the outside of his awareness, though. It sounds kind of…

Wally perks up. “Hey, the alien kid’s here!”

The PT holding Wally up at the waist hums. Her name is Cindy, and judging from their previous conversations, she thinks that Wally is the dumbest man alive. “There’s a million of those, Flash. Which one?”

“The one who bit Superman,” Wally adds.

Judging by the face Cindy makes, this clarifies nothing.

“Most recently,” Wally stresses, carefully not wincing as his leg gets stretched out again, only to be pulled back into position as tightly as before. “OW. Cindy, you’re killing me.”

Cindy makes a strangled noise. She asks: “What, again?” which is how Wally remembers that he got torn back out of the time stream not all that long ago, and it may be a big gauche to joke about your own death with the people who care about it.

Whoops. Wally winces. “…Nevermind?”

The other PTs make various fussy and annoyed noises, but the alien kid is wheeled onto the other side of the medical floor’s only gym. (The actual training floors are on another level. Wally wishes he was there. Alone.)

(Without four PTs clinging to his legs at all times.)

Wally waves. It’s a nice enough gesture, and now that the alien-phantasm-turned-flesh-and-blood-boy is more physically embodied than he used to be, the boy even deigns to carefully wave back.

The kid’s PTs—Wally thinks at least one of them is from the team that supervises Bart and his super-powered-leg-problems—end up encouraging the alien kid’s chair round to the soft mats where the kid can lay down. He ends up in the exact same position Wally is—horizontal on the floor, legs forcibly pinwheeled by enthusiastic but firm PTs.

Wally can physically feel the kid’s astonishment and discontentment buzzing in the air as he figures out what’s being done to him. Wally can’t help but laugh.

The kid angles his head towards the speedster. His face still looks—well, it looks…bad. It looks bad, unhealed and still threatening to weep neon green body fluids; there’s a wet, living crack running up and down his face that makes eye contact kind of hard. His hands are all spidery—this kid can probably hold and grip things, but the previous breakage have left his hands a little too easy to splay, a little too oddly-angled. He’s too thin to keep himself fully upright for long. When he looks at you, his eyes shake like a poorly lined-up television signal.

Martian Manhunter had said that he’d once looked like a healthy, happy human child. His current form is a reflection of the injuries he’d experienced since.

...What a thing for a kid to go through. Wally wouldn’t wish this sort of injury on anyone.

“­Alright, up you go,” the PT above him—Rhys, Wally remembers at the very last second—orders, and Wally is prompted to let the man help him back upright. “Over to the bars for you. You think your legs are up to bearing that kind of weight as you try out walking?”

“…Sure,” Wally lies to Rhys. It’ll be fine. Probably. By the time he gets over there, his legs might have already speed-healed by then. “Hand me the—?”

“Yeah, yeah, here’s the crutches. Don’t destroy yourself trying to make this happen, okay?”

So Wally gets set up at the glorified playground equipment in his least restrictive gym clothes, one long iron bar under one arm, and one long iron bar under the other. Two full-size physical therapists spot him as the speedster completes the most strenuous task available to him at the moment: walking across a very short distance without putting his full weight on his legs.

Wally puts one shaking leg in front of the other. The steps are slow. The urge to zoom to the end of the little bowling lane he’s stuck in—and therefore shatter his legs under the speedforce, again—is irresistibly temping.

Healing sucks. And Wally’s even got the longer end of the stick.

In the end, Wally sticks the landing. He is unreasonably sweaty. He is miserable. But he makes it to the end. Every one of the witnessing PTs applauds as if this is a great success. It’s literally not. It’s the inevitable result of pushing himself too far for the third time this year.

A question buzzes through the air, fluffing through Wally’s hair and the little fine hairs up and down his body. It’s nothing but inquisitive—whatareyoudoing whatareyoudoing?

Wally lets the PT maneuver a chair underneath him. It gives him enough breathing room to turn his upper torso, and he ends up catching the eye of the little alien kid in the corner. He’s sat on a yoga ball, two members of his medical team and one of the kids’ PTs trying to get his attention back to his exercises.

“Hey,” Wally realizes suddenly. “Your casts are gone!”

The kids’ legs are actually bare, which Wally’s never seen before. They’re twiggy, sure, stretched taut over a bone frame, and discolored and pale, but they’re legs. Wally hadn’t even known the alien had possessed legs until he’d formed a physical body months and months ago.

“Dude, that’s great!”

Happy/smug/proud vibrates through the room, making Wally’s teeth buzz. The kid smiles through a half-split lip, and bounces on the yoga ball ever so slightly.

“Good,” the kid says, surprising Wally, his PTs, and the kid’s usual medical team. He was talking already?! He thought J’onn had said—

“Hurt?” the boy asks, concern/concern flooding through the air. Oh. Right. He’s probably here for his busted legs; it would make sense that by virtue of the setting, Wally would be injured too.

And, sure, Wally busted his legs, but he at least heals with all the swiftness of the speedforce. “Meh.” Wally waves off the question. “I’m fine. It’ll be quick for me; some rehab and some lunch and a few days off, and I’ll be in shipshape.”

Wait. Wally’s eyes scrunches up. Is using wordplay appropriate with this kid…?

“Pain?” the kid asks, and turned his attention to the closest member of his medical team. “He pain?”

The medical professional sighs, which finally clues Wally in that the man is no longer masked. Hey, the kid is out of medical isolation! “The Flash has his own medication, thankfully. His doctors know what to do.”

The kid frowns. He doesn’t get it. He looks at Wally, and he looks at the staffer, who shrugs. “It’s the usual indicator word he uses for pain medication. He’s wondering if you’re hurt enough to need some.”

Wally hums. On one hand, it’s sweet that the alien kid is worried about him. It’s a huge step upwards from the alien who spent all his time hiding in abandoned meeting rooms and occasionally biting Superheroes.

On the other hand, the kid doesn’t just look worried that Wally might not be getting care; he looks scared.

Something happened to this kid. Something he can't shake off.

Wally breathes in, and breathes out.

—And breathes in sharply when Cindy starts wiggling his feet. She doesn’t respond at all to his glare, because she is a professional, and he is not a big baby of a superhero.

Mean.

“I’m fine,” Wally finally responds, trying to alleviate the kid’s concerns through sheer vibes-telepathy alone. Who knows if it’s working, but it makes Wally feel better about trying at the very least. “I’ve got my own team to fix me up, and they do a good job of taking care of me. Even if they’re bullying me at my most vulnerable.”

“Anything for you, boss,” Cindy volleys back cheerfully. “Gimme your other leg.”

The tension in the air slowly dissipates. The kid doesn’t stop shooting occasional looks at the unadorned, half-out-of-uniform Flash, but he does let Bart’s little PT team get to working on stretching out his previously-bound now-physical legs and getting him upright—if only for a few seconds at a time, balanced precariously by humans who actually touch his back and arms and hips and legs.

Wally’s session wraps up before the kid’s does. He’s not in any rush. He gets onto the walking crutches Rhys leaves out for his temporary use and lopes over to watch, occasionally hooting and applauding when the kid pulls off something no one’d been sure he could do.

The double handed high-five Wally offers him at the end is punctuated with shaky eye contact, two working hands, and a green-threaded beaming grin.

*

Diana cheerfully digs into her kebab lunch, plastic cutlery pushed to their maximum limit before threatening to break under her prodigious strength. “You know, Batman,” she starts, beaming, “My charge gave me his name the other day.”

Bruce sets down his muenster-ham-and-whole-wheat sandwich mid-bite. “I’ll need to hear everything,” he says immediately, to which Diana tuts.

“Oh, Batman, I could never break his trust like that,” she says, sweet as anything. She finesses a bite of lamb from the skewer and takes a neat bite.

“…Wonder Woman,” Batman says.

“Hm?”

“Diana.”

“Is there something you needed, Bruce?” Diana asks, pleased with herself. There genuinely is very little that could be done with a vague description of a now-altered human form and a first name alone; besides, she genuinely does feel that hearing the boy’s name come from others’ lips would be upsetting for him. Danny offered his name to Diana alone, and so it shall remain until hers alone he offers it to others.

Still, she is not above bragging.

“I need information.” Bruce’s face underneath his mask is stone.

Diana dips a second chunk of lamb into a little container of tzatziki sauce. “Well, then,” she points out, “Shouldn’t you spend some time building rapport with my charge, then?”

The feared Batman of Gotham, father of a half-dozen highly trained heroes, bristles like a wet cat. The demeanor is almost comical. He knows what he looks like to non-Gothamite children. He knows his suit will make this fight for common familiarity an uphill battle.

Diana smugly works through her lunch and ignores Bruce’s silent brooding as he does the same.

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Return to sender (dc x dp)

There was a box set right in front of his door. That was already pretty unusual, since Danny had just moved in, and and gotten done with boxes and he knew he hadn't had anything delivered here.

"Let's get you inside," Danny muttered as he got his key out of his pocket.

Unlocking the door, he picked it up and made his way in. He set the box down on the small kitchen table before grabbing a knife from the cabinet. He sat down and set to cutting the tape along the opening.

Peeling back the flaps, he took a peek at the contents only to be faced with a mound of yellow and black sparkly tissue paper, with a letter on top.

"What do we have here?" he muttered to himself, as he took the envelope out of the box.

Ripping it open, he got a small greeting card out. It had a yellow smiley face on it with the word "Smile!" printed above it. He flipped it open, and his eyes fixed on the printed text that said "Because today is your day!" Underneath it, written in chicken-scratch was written the following: "Looks like the bat has a new signal. At least mommy and daddy won't know how fast you replaced them!" it was signed with a simple J and yet another smiley face.

Danny frowned. "Weird."

Then, he peeled back the paper to find a taxidermied yellow-and-black bird Danny couldn't recognize, with its wings broken.

"This is definitely not mine," Danny said as he looked at the bird. Hopefully the real owner of this wasn't going to be too disappointed it had been this damaged in transit.

Danny took up the box to look at the delivery address, only to find that while this was for his apartment, the name of the receiver was marked as "Duke Marlon Thomas". It took one quick google search to find a phone number. Danny thanked whoever the sender was for including a middle name as it narrowed the search greatly. Dialling the number, Danny got up to get himself a glass of water. As he got the glass out, the line connected.

"Hello?" he heard a surprisingly young voice say. Well, assuming apparently made an ass of Danny. Maybe taxidermy really did appeal to all ages.

"Hi, my name's Danny. I think I got your package by accident."

"My package?" The guy on the other side asked, perplexdely.

"Yeah, a big box with a bird in it?" Danny answered. "Listen, man I'm sorry, I think the wings broke during transit, I swear it was already like that when I opened it-"

"What bird?" Now the guy sounded even more confused.

Well now, Danny was starting to get confused. "A taxidermied black-and-yellow bird?" Danny sounded out, then he grabbed the note and let his eyes go over it again. "There was a note too, I opened it, sorry about that." Danny winced, before trying for a joke to hopefully get the guy to soften up on him. "Whoever that J- friend is, he's got a weird sense of humour."

"J- friend?" the voice on the other side of the phone said. Guess, the joke hadn't gone over well, because his voice had gone tense.

"Yeah," Danny answered withholding a sigh, damn his curiosity. Opening other people' letters was not only a gross invasion of privacy but also a federal crime. Hopefully the guy wouldn't stay mad too long. "It was signed with the letter J and a smiley face."

"Whoever you are," said the guy, and the urgency in his voice had Danny straightening up. "You need to get out of here right now."

"What-?"

Just then, the door to Danny's apartment was blown open.

"I hope you're ready, birdie," a voice outside sounded, before a spindly man in a purple suit, green hair and sickly-looking skin walked in.

"Because you and me are going to have so much fun."

[nightlyrequiem]

Scream

A new serial killer has been terrorizing the streets of Las Almas. You have an... interesting encounter with her one night while working your first shift at the morgue.

New Part Every Thursday

Masterlist AO3

A/N- I wanted to be a medical examiner when I was twelve. That's not something in my future anymore sadly. Also, no matter how often I write smut I feel goofy doing it, but I think this turned out okay.

Tags/Warnings: Slasher Valeria, Violence, Blood, WLW, Dubcon, FINGERING, Smut, Explicit Sexual Content

There's been another murder. A man found in his car with his throat sliced open. You're starting to wonder if Las Almas was the right town to move to. The fall air is only slightly cooler than the summer air but not enough to count. It's mid-October yet you're still wearing shorts and a tank top. You stand among other bystanders as police and coroners investigate the crime scene. The body was moved a while ago. At first everyone had assumed the murders were related to the ever-growing cartel located right in the town but a video on a victim's phone showed a glimpse of a figure in a white mask. Eyes drooping, mouth elongated into a soundless scream, and realised this was something else entirely.

A man in an official looking suit strides up to the crowd standing at the police tape.

"Go home." He says sternly. "This is real life, not one of those little perverse true crime podcasts." He scolds. The group slowly dissipates. Nobody feeling truly guilty for gawking. You reluctantly turn away and leave as well. Not wanting to be the only person still there. You head back home. You should get some rest anyway. You start your first shift at the morgue tonight. 

You groan irritably as your phone alarm blares right beside your ear. Shrill and annoying. You make quick work of turning it off. For a few minutes you lay there on your mattress - you don't have a bedframe yet - and fight back frustration. You can't believe this is what you have to do every day. You're just so tired. You can't fathom having to do this for the next forty-fifty years of your life. Despite the evil voice in your head telling you not to get up, you do. You throw on a simple shirt and pants combo. It doesn't matter because you'll have to suit up anyway. You debate putting on makeup as well but you're so tired and the only people around to see you will be your mentor and a corpse. Those dark circles under your eyes will fit right in.

The drive to the morgue is short. The streets of Las Almas are deserted at night. Dim yellow streetlights adding to the eerie atmosphere. Of course nobody wants to be out at night here. There's an operating cartel and a serial killer on the loose. Your eyes drift to your rear mirror. Just to make sure no ghastly figures are lurking about in your backseat. You park and get out. Grabbing your bag and walking inside. The bright fluorescent lights buzz and threaten to give you a headache and you swallow down the dread at having to spend nine hours here. You didn't take all those medical classes just to give up. Down in the basement your mentor is already suited up. Setting up the tray of tools. He turns and smiles at you, eyes crinkling at the corners. He's an older man. Short and going gray.

"Glad to see you." He greets. "Your scrubs are in that locker over there, get suited up and come join me and I'll go over the basics."

You struggled a bit with putting on the apron and gloves but finally got the hang of it. You walk over to him and do your best to listen as he goes over the tools and their uses. Scalpel, bone saw, enterotome, rib shears. You already know all about them, but it doesn't hurt to get a refresher. It's been a few years since you were in school.

"Okay. Let's go get the body." The man nods. He leads you to the back and you shiver at the drop in temperature. You don't care for it, although you know it's necessary to keep the bodies fresh. The more decayed it is, the harder and more dangerous for you it is to do an autopsy. He shows you how to take the body out from the columbarium and wheels him back to the examining room.

The man's eyes are still open. His lifeless stare creeps you out a bit.

"What do we do first?" Your mentor asks. Staring at you expectantly. You weren't expecting him to ask and you hesitate. Mind blanking.

"Um... we- we drain him." You answer.

"No, we note down any external marks and wounds." He corrects. You mentally facepalm. Of course. That's the obvious answer. You blame it on the dissociative state you're in.

"Right. Sorry." You say.

"It's alright." He says kindly, handing you a notebook and pen.

You walk up to the cadaver and realise just how surreal this is. This man was a person. A son, a child at one point. He had a favourite food, colour. None of that matters anymore.

"I write down his name right?" You ask. Your mentor nods. you shakily scratch down his name. You look him over. There's a scratch on his right wrist. There's a deep, obvious gash along his throat. You inspect the jagged edges of his skin. "... I think this was made with a hunting knife?" You guess. Looking to your mentor. He approaches and inspects him too. Nodding in agreement. 

"Correct, anything else?"

You stare at the cadaver. What else are you supposed to look at? Right, his nails. You lift up his big hands gingerly and check under his nails. No visible evidence of skin or blood. You jot down your findings.

One-inch-long shallow scratch, right wrist. Three-inch-long gash along throat, jagged edges, suggests it was done with hunting knife. No other visible external injuries.

You stare at the body and at your notes. Maybe you should check him once more.

"I need to use the washroom." Your mentor mumbles, degloving. He walks out of the room, leaving you alone in this cold, unfamiliar place with a body. You stand around awkwardly for a few moments, your only company being the dead man. You feel suffocated by the weight of the future. What if you never get the hang of this? What if you can't do it? You take a few seconds to breathe. You got your bachelor's degree. You got hired at the morgue. You remind yourself you felt overwhelmed and scared of driving at first too, and now you can do it just fine. If you can navigate college, you can navigate a corpse.

You check him over one more time to see if you were accurate. As you're setting his hand down you stop and look closer. A very short, fine black thread is caught under his thumbnail. You jot it down and carefully pull it out, holding it up to your face. Up close you see it's not thread but a strand of hair. you set it down on the counter in a tray to be looked at later. You shamble closer and stare at him uncertainly. Do you cut him open now or is there something you're forgetting? You look up. Your mentor still hasn't returned. You'll wait before you do anything. The last thing you want to do is mess up an autopsy.

Twenty minutes later he still hasn't returned. You frown and debate with yourself. He could be unwell, and you'd feel awkward about disturbing him while he's on the toilet, but you need to learn, and you can't proceed without him to guide you. You walk out of the room and down the hall. Doors are closed along the walls. The lights out in those rooms. It's quiet. Where are the bathrooms again? You turn down another hallway. Peering down it. You walk towards an opening. Not the bathrooms. Instead, there are tables lined up with cover sheets. All are barren except for one. If a body isn't being examined, it needs to be put away. You put aside your search for your mentor and begin to wheel the body to the body storage area. Your skin prickles into goosebumps. The body's feet are the only part sticking out from under the blanket. It still has shoes on. You stop. You're pretty sure all cadavers are to be stripped of their clothing once they arrive. You'll do that at the columbarium.

You leave him in there and hurry back to the examining room to retrieve fabric sheers. You gasp as something dark darts across the hall.

"Hello?" You call instinctively, then mentally facepalm. What is wrong with you? It's nothing, you decide. Because you aren't sure what you'd do if it was something. You feel uneasy at the silence and your mentor still being gone but you push those fears aside. Morgues hold dead people, of course you're wary. It's no different to a hospital though, both are medical buildings. One's for the living, the other for the dead.

Back in the storage room you approach the body. You grab ahold of the edge of the sheet and pull it off, freezing in place. Your hands tremble and you drop the black plastic sheet. It flutters to the ground. Dark red blooms through his white scrubs on his chest. A clean wound entering and exiting his body. Your mentor stares at the ceiling unblinkingly. Your brain takes a few seconds to comprehend what you're seeing. Your mentor is dead, and he was murdered. You whip around to face the doorway. The hallway is brightly lit. What's the likelihood of his killer still being in the building? Pretty fucking high. The buzzing of the lights and the otherwise silence feels threatening. You grip the fabric shears tightly. Too afraid to move. You picture the murderer standing just beside the door frame, knife poised, waiting to plunge it into your heart.

The body can lose fourteen percent of its blood without much consequence. Fifteen to thirty percent and you risk passing out - although you know that's much lower for you because you cut open your foot one time and almost passed out after losing maybe five percent at most. Forty percent and you die. It depends where your cut or stabbed too. The body has twenty arteries. Any of those get punctured and you'll be dead within five minutes.

You creep forward. Shears raised in defense. You psyche yourself up to look around the corner. Imagining the tip of a wicked blade sinking into your eye socket. Popping that fragile ball of jelly. You look quickly. Seeing an empty hall on both sides. You need to get back to the examining room to get your phone. Call the police. Barricade yourself in the room until they arrive. Your feet softly hit the clean linoleum floors with every step. You make it to the examining room without issue. You quickly rush to your locker and root through your bag for your phone. a sob wells up in your throat, it's not there. You know for certain you put it there.

People are sometimes able to feel when someone else enters a room before seeing them. A shift in the air, a tingle in the spine. Your feel sick with fear. You don't want to turn around, but you don't want to keep your back to the open door. Slowly you turn. In the doorway stands the murderer. Adequately called Ghostface by the public. They're all dressed up. White mask, black hood and tattered robe and all. You two stare at each other for what feels like forever.

"Forget your phone?" Their voice is muffled and gravely and mocking. Almost electronic sounding, like someone talking through a walkie talkie. You watch in horror as they hold out your phone, dropping it to the ground. They raise one foot and stomp down with their heel, shattering the screen and your hopes of getting out of here. "Aren't you pretty." They walk forward and shut the door. Reaching behind themselves to lock it. Your eyes dart towards the tool table. Distressed to find it cleared. All you have are the fabric shears.

You back up, raising them slightly. A show of aggression. Not a good one, but one nonetheless. The figure tilts their head at you.

"What do you think you'll be able to do with those?"

"... Kill you." You rasp. Ghostface just chuckles. "I haven't seen your face, I won't tell the cops anything, please don't kill me." Your voice breaks at the end. Ghostface observes you silently. Looking like the grim reaper. You watch on in confusion as they raise a gloved hand slowly and grip the edge of their mask. Lifting it to reveal the face beneath. A woman in her thirties. Dark brows and eyes that stare right through you. 

"Now you have." She murmurs. Sounding far less robotic. She pulls the mask back over her face. "But I don't think I want to kill you just yet."

She rushes at you, throwing the table to the side. You scream and raise your hands to protect your face. The woman grabs you by the shoulders and roughly throws you to the floor, winding you. You gasp and try to crawl away, shears clutched uselessly in your hand. She throws herself on top of you. Straddling your lower back and pressing your pelvis into the hard floor uncomfortably. One gloved hand wraps around the front of your throat and pulls your head back, making it harder to breath. Your back and neck arching in the process.

"Poor thing, all alone." Valeria coos. Index finger rubbing your throat mockingly. "These scrubs are so unflattering."

The sound of tearing makes you cringe. "What are you doing?" You ask shakily. She doesn't answer as she cuts away at your scrubs. Pulling the torn fabric to the side. Her fingers trace along your ribs and waist, making you shiver.

"You're so pretty." She mutters to herself. 

She violently tugs down your sweats, exposing your ass to the cool air. Your heart flutters and you flinch. You don't feel as afraid as you should and that alone frightens you. Her palm smooths over your cheeks. Massaging the skin. You breathe heavily, feeling like you're going to pass out. Her hand dips between your cheeks. Prodding along your clothed asshole and cunt. You wore light coloured underwear and know she can see the damp spot beginning to form. Not that it matters, because you can feel the cotton sticking to your wet folds, moulding to their shape. She hums in interest.

"... You're already wet?" She comments. Stroking you gently. "Don't tell me you get off on this." 

Your face warms with embarrassment. "I'm not... It's not... get the hell off of me!" It's not death that arouses you. You aren't into dying, or corpses. You don't know why being pinned to the cold floor by a murderer is making your clit throb.

She doesn't get off of you. Instead, she roughly pushes your head down. Your cheek presses against the ground.

"Shut the fuck up." She demands. Rubbing her hand through your folds, soaking your panties even more. She cuts away at your underwear without a care. The air makes contact with your slick unpleasantly. Chilling your weeping core. A leather clad finger prods at your entrance and to your shame you don't protest. Prioritizing your desire to be filled more than the need to flee and call for help. Her finger slips in. The unfamiliar texture of the leather makes you squirm as your spongy walls pull it deeper. She adds another finger, curling them upwards and hitting that sweet spot inside of you.

You tense and gasp. Jerking upwards at the feeling. She sets a fast pace. Pumping her fingers into you with an intensity. Your pussy practically sings her praises as it squelches. You press your face into the floor to hide your shame. Valeria isn't having any of that. She grabs ahold of your hair and yanks your head back.

"You're enjoying this." She taunts. "Sick little freak."

You clench around her fingers. "No I'm - not." You whimper. She gives you a hard thrust in response, pushing a loud whine from the back of your throat.

"You're dripping all over my hand." Valeria retorts, moving her other hand from the back of your head to the nape of your neck.

As if to punish you for your insolence, she presses down and roughly pumps her fingers into you. Droplets of your slick hitting the floor. You feel like a monster for even slightly enjoying this and you do your best to stave off the impending orgasm quickly approaching. It's one thing to enjoy what's happening - it's another to get off on it. Valeria is relentless. Leaning over you and breathing in your ear. You whine and clench around her fingers. Toes curling in your shoes.

"Fuck." You mutter with defeat. You came on a murderer's fingers.

The woman slowly pulls her fingers out, gathering up your wetness. She holds it out in front of your face and spreads her fingers. Translucent strings connecting them, evidence of your debauchery.

"Open your mouth." She murmurs. "C'mon, sweet thing, open your mouth." She forces her fingers between your lips. The taste of blood, leather, and your own juices hit your tongue. You gag as she shoves them deeper into your mouth. When she finally pulls them away, she gives your cheek a quick tap and stands, leaving you on the floor in a puddle of your own release.

"Are you going to kill me?" You whisper.

"Maybe." She hums. "If you aren't useful." 

Now that the high is wearing off your left with a cavernous pit in your stomach. Your mentor was murdered, and you happily let the killer finger you. "What? How can I be useful?"

She scoffs. "You're a medical examiner are you not?" She replies impatiently, she leans against the counter and lifts her mask again.

She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a box of cigarettes and lights one.

"You're not supposed to smoke down here." You mutter.

"I don't care." She says, lighting one and putting it to her hips. "You're going to tamper with the bodies, or lie about how they died, or whatever it is you do."

You close your eyes. "That's... that's so unethical, I can't do that."

She grins at you. "Cumming around a murderer's hand - in a morgue no less - is pretty unethical."

She approaches and squats down, grabbing your chin and making you face her.

"If you don't want me to fucking gut you," She murmurs softly. "then you'll do what I say."

You don't want that. You're of the opinion that your insides belong inside of you. "Okay." You say weakly. You don't have much of a choice. 

"Good girl." Valeria hums. she stands and walks towards the doorway, pausing to look at you over her shoulder. "I'll be seeing you again very soon."

[warpedpuppeteer]

Y'all ever cry when you think about how everyone in Eddie's life assumed he'll make a terrible parent without even offering him the help he needed to prove himself except for Buck?? He hears about Eddie's struggles with parenting and doesn't think 'you're a bad dad' he just thinks 'you need a bit of help' and then proceeds to make that happen for Eddie.

Calling Bobby to get permission to have Chris with them because Eddie doesn't get the time to, introducing Carla to go through the shitty red tapes he's been struggling to figure out, driving him to pick-up Chris after the earthquake, throwing a surprise Christmas party so that Eddie can be with Chris, and being the person Chris can turn to when he doesn't feel like talking to Eddie.

I don't think Buck realizes how much Eddie probably values all the things Buck has done for him to allow him to be the parent that he's always been capable of being. Buck downplays the things he does and probably thinks it's not much but for Eddie it's everything. It's everything Eddie didn't get from his partner or his parents. Buck just... does it for him, as easy as breathing.

This is why it was so, so easy for Eddie to choose Buck as the legal guardian for his Will but it was a shock for Buck. Buck doesn't know how integral he's been to Eddie being a good dad. For Eddie, it's easy because be knows Buck is already capable of stepping up. For Buck, it's surprising because doesn't think all the things he does matters.

[haggishlyhagging]

I was standing before the desk of my doctoral dissertation adviser who was angrily telling me that I was not going about my dissertation in a way that suited him. He shouted at me, from his intimidating height, that my master's thesis adviser had told him I had pressured him unmercifully too and hadn't asked his advice either all along as I should have. I asked my fuming educator, as calmly as I could, why my master's adviser had never indicated this to me. I suggested that if he hadn't approved of the way I was proceeding, he should have said something to me at the time. And that since he always signed everything I took to him to sign, and since he had not stood in the way of my receiving my master's degree, I had simply assumed he approved.

Even as I asked the question, however, I knew the answer. I hadn't behaved femininely. I hadn't asked their advice. I hadn't acted as if I weren't capable of doing all this without their help. Hadn't, in short, acted incompetent, helpless, childish, and infinitely grateful for every little scrap of attention or advice they, as superior beings, had given me. I was twenty-eight years old when I began my master's research. I knew exactly what I wanted to do and how to go about doing it. I proposed it to my adviser. He agreed. I did it. That was that—I thought.

Oh, but not so. I didn't lean on him. To me he was just part of the red tape. I cut through him as quickly as possible. And I had no time to linger. Already we had one child and were ready to conceive another. I had to move faster almost than humanly possible, and I did.

Now my doctoral adviser had heard from my previous master that I had not been sufficiently humble and impressed (did not respect the priesthood enough, meaning the men). But this one wasn't going to make the same mistake. He'd show me who was boss. I understood this as women understand it, not intellectually, just in the flesh of my face as he scowled at it, just in the resignation of my weary-with-watching-male-ego-signs flesh. And I knew exactly what to do about it, without thinking, without strategizing—cry. So he would know I wasn't trying to show I was as smart as he was and didn't need him to tell me what to do next. Cry—so he would realize I was just another weak little woman and he had no cause for alarm. Cry—so he would feel bigger and more rational, and still, above all else, still blessedly in control.

So I cried on purpose that day, and because I did I became Dr. Johnson a year later, moving with great speed through a system designed to slow doctoral candidates down. Because I cried.

If men hate to be thus manipulated, then they must allow us to be real, they must not force us to manipulate their egos in order to live a full human life. I hate such machinations. I despise them with all my heart. But women are forced to resort to them because men won't otherwise allow us to exist. And we have a right to life.

-Sonia Johnson, From Housewife to Heretic

[obsidianimagines]

Stay

After he and his brothers track down and kill the men who murdered their mother, Jack returns home to find you waiting in his room, and he doesn't want you to leave.

Jack Mercer x f!reader

Warnings: mentions of death/murder/trauma, a little homophobia (Bobby refers to reader as Jack's beard), smidge of angst, comfort/fluff 🥺, cursing, a little mention of sex so MINORS DNI

Notes: This is my first try at a Jack imagine. Hope you like it ☺️ and please ignore how bad I am at titles

Jack's childhood bedroom looked about as you'd expected.

An electric guitar and amp. A stereo with a collection of rock cd's. Band and car posters plastered on the wall. And, of course, a stack of VHS tapes that you probably didn't want to inspect too closely—he'd been a teenage boy the last time he lived there, after all.

You eventually grew tired of looking around and propped his pillow up so you could sit back against his headboard. His bed was a lot more comfortable than the one in the crappy hotel you'd been sleeping in, mostly because it was Jack's, and that meant safety. It meant home.

It was already pretty late when you first arrived at the Mercer home, so you were having a hard time staying awake to greet your boyfriend. Maybe you should've just waited until the morning, but something told you that you might be needed. That was why you'd driven to Detroit with him in the first place instead of making him go on his own. To be there for him during such a devastating time.

You yawned and decided to rest your eyes for just a few minutes, not hearing the sound of the front door, or Bobby speaking a little too loudly as three of the Mercers entered.

"Seriously, Jackie. How much are you paying her?"

"I'm not paying her anything, Bobby." Like always, his brother was just trying to get under his skin. Sometimes, it really fucking bothered him, but after seeing your car parked out front, he just wanted to find you.

He didn't see you in the living room, and just as he realized where you likely were, Sofi came down the stairs and confirmed it. "She's waiting in your room."

"Thanks." Jack took the steps two at a time, passing Sofi as she eagerly went to meet Angel at the bottom of the stairs.

"Hey, she better not think she's staying here! We don't need another La Vida Loca!" Bobby called after Jack, which he ignored, chuckling as Sofi started cursing at the oldest Mercer in Spanish.

Jack opened his bedroom door, cracking a small smile the instant he noticed you dozing off on his bed. He'd had half a mind to have Jerry drop him off at your hotel, but it was late enough that he assumed you were already sound asleep. Now that he knew you weren't even there, he was glad he hadn't gone anyway because he wouldn't have heard the end of it from Bobby.

Your eyes fluttered open as Jack slipped off his leather jacket, tossing it on the chair while kicking off his boots. "Hi," you greeted with a relieved smile.

"Hey, gorgeous," he replied as he climbed into the bed with you.

Even though you'd only been together for about two and a half years, you could read Jack very well. It was clear when he was upset or thinking of painful things, showing right there in his eyes. At that moment, you saw not just the sadness and grief of the last several days, but something else that disturbed him.

You shimmied down the bed a bit and opened your arms, allowing him to practically lay on top of you and rest his head on your chest. "What happened, baby?" You gently embraced him, resting a hand at the nape of his neck.

Jack took a moment to relax in your arms, letting out a sigh as you began to run your fingers through his hair. It had taken some time and a lot of built trust for him to be fully comfortable with that kind of intimacy, and once that happened, he could never get enough. After everything that happened that day, he really fucking needed it.

"I–" He sniffled, blinking back the tears that stung at his eyes. "I saw the security footage. I saw my mom..."

"Oh..." Your heart clenched as you realized what he meant. "I'm so sorry you had to see that, Jack."

"We found the guys that killed her," he said quietly, his fingers toying with the fabric of your shirt. "Angel and Bobby took care of it, but I...I couldn't handle it. I'd never watched anyone die like that." Jack had done some dumbass shit as a kid, but he'd never gotten into some of the more extreme things his brothers—particularly Bobby—did. Not until his mom was taken from him.

The fact that he and his brothers had found and killed their mom's murderers was not a surprise to you. Jack already told you that was the plan, and he'd shared enough about his brothers in the past for you to know he wasn't just talking. While killing was wrong, you had nothing against them getting revenge for Evelyn as long as Jack still came home to you in the end.

"But it's done now, right? You don't have to see that again."

"Nah, it's not over yet. Someone hired them to kill her."

Your hand stopped moving. "What?" Random robbery to contract killing? A pit formed in your stomach at the thought of him getting mixed up with something like that. "Who would want to kill your mom? She was amazing." You'd only ever talked to Evelyn on the phone, but between the lovely conversations and everything Jack ever told you about her, you knew she was a special woman.

"We don't know yet. I'll have to stay a couple more days..." Though it was important to find the truth and get justice, part of him really just wanted to be back home in your little shared apartment. He wanted things to be back to normal—as normal as they could be without Evelyn Mercer in the world.

"I'll add a few days to my hotel," you said as your fingers resumed playing with his hair. The idea of an extended stay didn't bother you at all. You knew he wasn't leaving Detroit until his mom was avenged.

"You should check out and stay here with me." He looked up at you with those soft blue eyes, and you already knew you'd be doing just that with very little convincing. Jack was hard to resist. "I miss you."

"It's not like I'm back in New York." Even though you laughed, you understood exactly what he meant. The cold Michigan nights really made you appreciate sleeping with him. "I miss you, too, but I don't want to intrude on you and your family."

"You're not intruding. You're my family, too," he assured you with a smile, which you returned as you stroked his cheek. "Besides, Angel's busy with Sofi, and Bobby's gonna be annoyed by someone or something no matter what."

You'd only met his oldest brother very briefly, but based on Jack's warnings and Sofi's rant about him when she let you in the house, you didn't doubt that he was a prickly as they come.

Jack watched expectantly, hoping he wouldn't have to spend another night alone. He had a hard time getting rest without you already, but it got worse after finding out his mom died. And he couldn't help the worry that whoever he and his brothers were after could end up targeting those close to them. That you could be hurt or killed just for being in town and being his girl. You'd probably be safer at the Mercer home.

"Okay, I'll check out in the morning."

He let out the breath he'd been holding and moved up your body to place a kiss on your lips. As he pulled back, you gazed up at him with the sweetest eyes he'd ever seen, and he thought for the millionth time how lucky he was to meet you. That you'd happened to end up at one of his shows three years ago was nothing short of a fucking miracle. "I love you."

"Love you, too," you said back without hesitation.

Underneath the rock and roll look, Jack was soft and sweet. You had seen tiny hints of it when you first talked outside of the bar his band had just played in, and he slowly let you in to see the rest. He respected and cared for you in a way that no other guy ever had, he made you feel safe and loved. Knowing you did the same for him after everything he'd been through meant the world.

When he laid back down beside you and pulled the blanket up over your bodies, you quickly turned on your side and snuggled right up to him.

Jack kissed the top of your head and slowly rubbed his hand up and down your back, and that was the last thing you remembered before finally drifting off.

Waking up was not quite as peaceful as falling asleep had been. A loud banging on the door shocked you both awake just in time to hear, "Rise and shine, Princess! We got shit to do today!"

Jack groaned and buried his face in your chest again. Even with Bobby's interruption, he really didn't want to move. After all, that was his second favorite spot to put his face. You were just about as eager to get up as he was, realizing just how much you'd needed this the last few days.

"What a charming wake up call," you said with a laugh, your voice rough from sleep. Considering how he'd referred to you as Jack's beard the first time you met, and at their own mother's funeral no less, a lack of tact seemed to be Bobby's thing.

"You get used to it," he mumbled into your t-shirt. "Unless you changed your mind about staying..."

"Nope." You reluctantly threw the blanket off and untangled yourself from him, taking a glance at your watch. "We've got plenty of time for breakfast, but I do need to be at the hotel by 9:30 to get my things."

Once you stretched and finally got out of bed, Jack sat up and scrubbed his hand over his face, his hair sticking up even more than usual. You went over to his jacket to fish his zippo and the pack of cigarettes out of the pocket and toss them over to him.

"Thanks," Jack said before placing a cigarette between his lips and lighting it up. He took a drag and watched amused as you slipped your shoes on and fixed yourself up a bit because, unlike him, you had a problem with looking like you'd just rolled out of bed.

Satisfied, you leaned down and tenderly cupped his jaw so you could press a kiss to his forehead. "See you downstairs, baby."

Jack's cheeks heated up at the sweet affection, and he blew out a cloud of smoke as you walked away with a sway of your hips.

Yeah, he was lucky as hell.