#i have to keep stopping myself periodically so i don't go through it all so fast i barely comprehend it

[aro-aizawa]

me, first watching wtdsik: i will not become a mega fan of kalego i will not. i refuse. yes he shows hints of caring for his students occasionally but--

episode s2 ep 12 kalego' home visit: hi

me: FUCK.

[ahgasegotarmy116]

It's Hard to Believe | Jungkook One Shot

Summary: Getting pregnant with your best friend's baby definetly wasn't a part of the plan... Pairing: f!Reader x Jungkook (fwb, f2l) Word Count: 2.7k Warnings: A tiny bit of explicit and suggestive language but nothing crazy a/n: This is something I started writing at like midnight and it's kinda shit but I thought I might as well post it since I haven't posted in a while (Like five days short of a month wtf?!?!? How has it been that long?!?!) (I just barely checked rn lmao my bad 🥲) p.s. I kinda wanna do a full on series on a concept like this but it'll be different and less fluffy but that won't be happening for a long ass time but yeah lol Requested by a lovely anon 💜

"How am I supposed to tell him?" I ask my friend Sam for the millionth time since I found out. "Y/n just tell him. You guys have been friends for how long?" she asks and it's like I'm having deja vu from both of our responses. "Like ten years" I mumble and pull my sweatshirt sleeves down over my hands in an effort to stop my nervous fiddling but it only makes it worse. 

"Right and you guys have been messing around with each other for over a year now, maybe even more...I don't wanna know" she says while holding her hand up in a way to assure me that she doesn't need the details. "Just tell him. If he's as great of a guy as you keep on telling me he is then I promise everything will be okay" she says and places a hand on my shoulder before she gets up off my couch. 

"Where are you going?" I ask while she shrugs on her jacket. "Didn't you say he's supposed to be here around five?" she asks and I nod my head, checking the clock and seeing that it's already 4:30. 

"Yeah...are you sure you don't wanna stay and say hi?" I ask and she glares at me. "Let me know what his response is to that bun in the oven and then we'll talk. I wanna figure out if he's an asshole or not before I decide to waste anytime on him" she says while lacing up her shoes. 

"Promise me you'll tell him tonight?" she asks and lifts up her hood, getting ready to shield herself from the pouring rain outside. I nod my head reluctantly, that being way more progress than I've made for the past few weeks since I found out. "I promise" I utter under my breath and she smiles, pulling me in for a bone crushing hug. 

"Text me if you need me" she says, worried for what might happen but hoping for the best. "I will...thanks" I whisper and she nods her head before walking out of my door and turning slightly and waving to offer me one last farewell.

I close the door after I see her get into her car and lean my back up against it, steadying myself for a second and taking deep breaths, trying to stop my racing heartbeat before pushing off of it and tidying up before Jungkook gets here to distract myself. 

Sam has been the only one I've been able to count on and honestly the only person I can trust since I haven't told anyone else. She was the one I called when I missed my period and she's the one who brought me a pregnancy test...and then when out and bought me ten more because I couldn't actually grasp the concept that I was pregnant...am pregnant.

Jungkook and I have always been careful and taken all the necessary steps to keep this from happening but I guess we got careless this time. 

Through out this whole arrangement we've made it very clear to each other that we're not sleeping with anyone else but neither of us are looking for any sort of commitment either so that's why this has gone on for so long. 

Like it or not though we're going to be committed to each other in one way or another no matter what because I'm keeping this baby. No matter what he says I'm keeping them. 

Jungkook is my best friend, the one person who has been there for me through everything. He's seen me at all of my highest highs and especially at my lowest lows and no matter what he's never made me feel shitty about it. I know he's not the kind of guy that'll turn on you because of something like this but I can't help but still feel terrified. 

This wasn't supposed to happen but even if this child wasn't made with love from his side...it was made with love from mine. 

I don't know how long it's been since I fell in love with him but I know I shouldn't have said yes to this whole fuck buddy ordeal. I just couldn't stand the thought of him being with someone else so when he offered up the idea I said yes.

I figured that if this was a way to prevent him from getting his heart broken by all those sorry excuses of girlfriends he's had in the past then I guess I'll be okay with breaking mine.

He's been acting different lately though. He's been a lot touchier, asking to come over more often, going out of his way to help me with things, offering to feed me all the time and all of it is making me feel like he already knows. 

Does he know? Have I started showing already? I haven't really noticed a difference in my body yet but he looks at me naked a lot more often than I pay attention to myself naked so I mean I guess he could've noticed right? 

Only one way to find out though...

A half an hour later I hear him take out his keys and unlock my door and soon I'm greeted with a smile that tugs at my heartstrings. 

"Hi baby" he says, using that pet name he's become very fond of since this whole ordeal started. The sound of it after finding out I'm pregnant with his baby has made me a little uncomfortable though since I haven't told him yet. 

Don't get me wrong I love it when he calls me that but I can't help but think that if this goes south that he won't ever call me that again. 

Maybe the hormones have started to scramble my brain already because those uncomfortable feelings are quickly thrown away when I take in the sight of him after he shrugs off his rain coat. A simple black baggy hoodie and jeans engulf his form and the comfy sight just makes me want to curl up in bed with him and forget about everything and everyone.

Just him and I, it's always been him and I. I just don't know if this little one is going to change things. 

I place a hand on my stomach for a second as a way to gain some strength from my itty bitty baby before finally working up the courage to greet him.

"Hi" I greet him softly, walking over to where he's stopped to take off his shoes and when he looks back up at me he smiles again and kisses me. I sigh into it, savoring it for just a little bit longer and when it finally breaks he looks down at me with concern now written all over his face. 

"Are you okay?" he asks, sensing that something's off right away from the just the small change in the way I kissed him. I hesitate for a second then simply hold out my hand for him to take and he does, following behind me as I lead him over to my couch. 

Getting this over with sooner rather than later is my best option right now so there's no reason to delay. 

He needs to know, he deserves to know.

We sit there in silence, longer than he would like us to since I can tell how tense his body has gotten in a matter of minutes. "Y/n you're scaring me" he whispers, not wanting to pressure me but relaying his feelings. 

I take a couple more deep breaths before finally starting. "I need you to listen to me and I need you to please not speak until I'm finished" I say while looking down at my lap, not being able to meet his eyes. 

He murmurs a soft 'okay' and waits for me to continue, taking one of my hands and placing it in his lap. He needs some form of physical contact to keep him grounded since he's not too sure what to expect and I let him, knowing I need some reassurance too. 

Even if I don't know what his reaction is gonna be, in this moment I need it more than ever.

"I guess there's really no right way to go about saying this because this wasn't supposed to happen so I'm just gonna come out and say it..." I start off and he squeezes my hand, encouraging me to keep going. 

"I missed my period...over a month ago...and I haven't had it since then" I say and finally look up at him where he has an unsure expression. It's not one that's mad or disappointed with what I've said thus far which is a good thing but more like he's trying hard to hold himself back so he can keep that promise. 

His hold on my hand hasn't loosened, in fact it's gotten even tighter and that gives me hope that we'll work this out so I take another deep breath before continuing. 

"I tried to kid myself into thinking that it was late but when another week passed by I got nervous. I asked Sam to get me a test and it came out positive. I didn't believe it and thought it was a false positive and so to ease my mind she went a bought ten more from a bunch of different brands and...all of them came out positive" I say and he still looks at me with that same expression, waiting for me to give him the okay to speak and so I do. 

"How long have you known?" are the first words out of his mouth and although they're not negative they aren't necessarily positive either. "About a month now" I say and he nods his head, taking another second or two to formulate what he's gonna say next. 

"I'll support you no matter what you decide" he says and I let out a breath I didn't even know I had been holding in. "I wanna keep it" I say and he nods his head and smiles softly at first and then as the seconds go by it gets wider and wider making my heart beat faster. 

"Am I allowed to get excited now?" he whispers and I can't help but chuckle as tears start to prickle my eyes and give him a nod. "You're excited?" I say, my whole being slowly overcome with emotion. 

"How could I not be?" he scoffs playfully but that answer has me confused. "But Jungkook we're not together. I mean we're not in a relationship, we're just friends" I explain and there's a playful glint in his eyes after I say that that's making me even more nervous.

"You wanna know what I thought you were gonna tell me?" he offers up, slightly changing topics but I look at him in a way to urge him to continue. "I thought you were gonna break up with me" he says and I smile, "Jungkook we're not together. How could I break up with you?" I chuckle in disbelief. 

"Correction, I thought you were gonna break up with me before I even got the chance to ask you to be my girlfriend" he says with a grin and my jaw drops, the dots all connecting as to why he's been acting so different lately. "You were gonna ask me to be your girlfriend?" I utter quietly as if we were in a crowed room and I had a secret for just the two of us.

"I had actually planned on asking you tonight" he explains, walking over to where he had placed his backpack on the floor, taking out a bouquet of slightly squished flowers. "Sorry they're all beat up. I forgot and rode my bike over here so I didn't really have any other option but to put them in there" he says almost as if he was nervous, rubbing the back of his neck and it's then that I notice how pink his ears have gotten. 

He is nervous

I take them from him and smile, waiting for him to say it but he simply stands there and admires me and I can't help but laugh. "What so funny? I told you what happened to them" he utters through pouty lips which only makes me laugh more. "No, no it's not the flowers it's just that...don't you have something to say?" I ask, calming down my chuckles and when he looks at me with the same confused expression I have to try my hardest to keep the laughter at bay. 

"Do you have something you would like to ask me Jungkook" I rephrase it and after a second his lips go from a pout to the shape of an 'O' as he's figured it out. "Oh um, yeah, right. Well I um" he starts off, rubbing the back of his neck again while stuttering and trying to find the words and after struggling for a second I decide to poke fun at him again. 

"Jungkook I am literally carrying your child and you're too afraid to ask me to be your girlfriend?" I laugh, giving him a slight reality check which he scoffs at before responding. 

"I was trying to remember what I had rehearsed to say to you but now that you're being a little brat I guess you'll never get to know all the nice things I was gonna say" he retorts, his voice suddenly taking on a darker tone that sends a shiver through my body and he smirks when he sees my reaction to it. 

He cups my face and rubs his thumb along my bottom lip, making them part and he leans in as if he was going to kiss me but stops just shy of my lips. "Will you be my girlfriend?" he whispers, nudging his nose against mine and making me smile. 

"I'll have to think about that" I play coy with him which he chuckles at. "You know if you weren't pregnant right now I would have thrown you over my lap for that smart mouth" he warns and I smile before leaning in and kissing him for just a second before pulling back. 

"Yes I'll be your girlfriend" I say and nudge my nose against his as well and before I can register it my back is on the couch and his lips are pressed against mine, the kiss not rushed but full of so many words that have yet to be said and he gives in, not being able to hold it in anymore.

"I love you" he says, pulling back and looking down at me to see my expression which is completely dumbfounded to say the least. "You what?" I ask and he chuckles, "Is it really that hard to believe?" he points out and I guess now that I think about it it really isn't.

"I guess we've both been in love with each other for a while now huh?" I smile and his eyes light up at my round about confession. "Say it" he says, and I can feel my cheeks heating up. I hadn't planned on actually saying those three words to him even though I've felt them for so long but I don't want to hold them back anymore. 

"I love you" I whisper and he smiles, "Say it again" he repeats, clearly not believing it just yet. "I love you Jungkook" I say and the little switch up with attaching his name to the end darkens his gaze. "I guess there's no chance in me getting you pregnant a second time right now huh?" he asks, sliding his hand up my thigh and I giggle. 

"No I think that's pretty much impossible but the odds are never zero" I say and he rolls his eyes. "I'm trying to tell you that I wanna hit it raw" he states the obvious while rolling his eyes. "I know I know...and the answer is yes Daddy" I tease, testing to see how that word affects him now that he knows.

He tongues his cheek at that making me bite my lip, knowing that's gonna be even more of a trigger word for him from now on. "Daddy huh? Well I guess that title is a little more fitting now isn't it?" 

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[myth1cs]

Deal of Lust (Im Nayeon x M!Reader)

Remastered version of my first smut because it SUCKS. (I'll give Nayeon a new smut ... eventually ... maybe)

Word Count: 1,309

Walking into school you walked around with caution making sure you didn't bump into a certain someone.

You were almost to your first period class but before you reached it you were grabbed and brought into an empty classroom.

"If I didn't know any better I'd think you were trying to avoid me."

"What no, I'm just really tired."

"Mhm, Anyways Y/N I trust you did my pre-calculus work."

"Actually I was studying for my exam last night so I wasn't able to finish it."

"You piece of shit!"

Nayeon smacked you and you fell to the floor. She grabbed you by your hair and lifted your head up.

"It's due today. Since you didn't finish it your going to pay."

Nayeon was about to hit you and you raised your hand in order to block her punch but before she hit you the sound of the doorknob twisting made Nayeon let go of you.

"Is there someone in here?"

The person who stepped through the door was the president of student council Park Jihyo.

"Oh Y/N you're so clumsy you have to stop falling down." Nayeon started caressing your face and helped you stand up.

"What are you guys doing in here?"

"Me and Y/N wanted to study on our own so we came in here. We were just about to leave but Y/N tripped and fell to the floor."

"Is this true Y/N."

You looked at Jihyo wanting to tell the truth but when you turned to look at Nayeon she gave you a "I'll kill you if you tell her." look.

"Yeah, I fell down I'm kinda clumsy like that."

"Okay well you guys can't be in a classroom without a teacher present so I'm advising you guys to go to the library if you want to study."

"Understood president Park, it won't happen again. Right Y/N?"

"R-right."

Once you all left the room Nayeon waited for Jihyo to be out of sight before she spoke to you.

"You're lucky she came in when she did. Have my homework done by 5th period or you'll regret it, got that?"

"Yes Nayeon."

She turned around and walked to her first period class leaving you in the hallway.

"Damn it why do I let myself get pushed around by her?"

Im Nayeon was the popular girl in school. Even saying that is an understatement she is what many saw as the person every student should aspire to be like. However you're the only one who knows the "real" Nayeon.

Once she realized you were the highest performing in school she started bullying you into doing her work and giving her test answers. She used the threat of beating your ass to keep you in check.

Reporting her would do nothing as everyone including staff had a false view of her and wouldn't take you seriously so you never bothered to do so.

You really wanted to finish her homework to avoid being punished but you were busy in every class. 1st period you had the exam you were studying for last night, 2nd period you had to work on a lab, 3rd period you were working on a project, and 4th period you had to help your art teacher set up for an after school event in the gym.

As the bell for fifth period came you tried to get to your class as fast as possible before Nayeon could find you. You settled for the longer path to your class assuming that Nayeon would assume you would take the shorter path to get to your class quicker.

However you didn't anticipate that she would correctly guess your actions and you saw her standing in the hallway as you turned the corner. "Oh shit!"

You tried turning around to run but before you could Nayeon grabbed you and brought you into the janitors closet.

"Where's my homework loser?"

"I don't have it!"

"Is that so? You know what happens now."

"No wait Nayeon please I'll do anything! Just please don't hit me."

"Anything I want?"

"Yes! Anything, just please don't hit me."

Nayeon grabbed your chin and made you face her. Laying your eyes on her you felt as if her demeanor changed from the one that was present just a moment earlier.

"You know Y/N there is one way you could make it up to me."

She put her fingers on the waistband of her pants and pulled her pants down.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

Once her pants were all the way down you noticed her pink pantie she was wearing but quickly averted your eyes.

"What's wrong Y/N? Do you not like what you see?"

You were unable to say to get words out of your mouth but eventually you were able to muster out a sentence "Please put your clothes back on."

"Don't be such a baby Y/N. Now look at me or I'll punish you."

Turning around to look at Nayeon you tried your best to focus on her face but you couldn't help yourself from trying to get a quick glance at her pantie.

"Go on Y/N stare at my clothed pussy." She put her finger inside her pantie and started to finger herself.

You watched her finger herself and felt your cock grow.

"Y/N if you fuck my pussy everyday then I'll stop bullying you."

"R-really?" You were surprised that her compromise was really lewd.

"Is that a yes or should I beat your face in now?"

Well who were you to deny her?

Walking up to Nayeon you pushed her to the wall and lowered yourself so you were facing her pantie.

"Go on give yourself a better view Y/N."

Putting your fingers on her pantie and dragging it down you got a clear view of Nayeon's wet pussy. Without hesitation you inserted your tongue into her pussy. She let out loud moans but covered her mouth quickly as to not draw attention to the closet both of you were in.

"Gah ~ ah ~ ah"

Hearing the noises coming from her made you want to go faster. You lapped every single inch of her pussy you could get your tongue on.

Nayeon took her shirt off and made quick work of her bra. Her breasts were now out in full display. She started to pinch and twist her nipples for further stimulation.

Pulling out of her sweet pussy you went up and kissed her letting her get a taste of herself. "Mhm ~ you're such a good kisser Y/N."

You reached for her pussy with your fingers and fingered Nayeon. She moaned into your mouth and you decided to explore her mouth with your tongue.

Nayeon felt overstimulated from everything she was experiencing and ended up cumming all over your fingers. So much cum came out that some dripped onto the floor.

"Agh ~ Y/N ... so ... good."

You licked the fluid she sprayed on your fingers: licking every last drop. "Do I taste good Y/N?"

"Yes Nayeon you taste amazing."

"Lucky for you you'll be able to taste this every day."

....

"Should we leave?"

"Probably not school staff is likely roaming the hallways looking for us since we haven't reported to our fifth period."

"So what now Nayeon?"

"We could just fuck until sixth period."

No words needed to be exchanged for her to know that you wanted to take her up on that offer.

The janitors closet was once again filled with moans for the rest of the period.

...

Jihyo was making her way to the bathroom and was passing by the janitors closet when she heard a moan. It was low but loud enough for her to hear.

She slowly crept towards it and laid on the floor to look inside from the crack under the door.

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

I prefer this over what I wrote originally. I'd like to think I've improved since I started writing and hopefully that continues.

[slayfics]

Katsuki gets caught being sweet to you.

You started to finally catch your breath being at the top of the hiking trail Katsuki had dragged you out too.

"Alright there, it's just us up here so tell me already. What the hell has been going on?"

"That's why you brought me out here?" You asked.

"Just tell me already, stop being so damn stubborn." He pried you impatiently.

"I told you I'm fine Bakugo, just busy like everyone else." You replied.

"Don't give me that shit. Do you think I'm stupid? The other extras are too dense to notice but I can see how exhausted you've been this whole week. So just tell me- what's going on," He said.

"You didn't need to drag me out here on a hike in freezing weather to do this, you know," You said, slightly irritated at Katsuki continuing to push you.

"Ugh- will you stop stalling and talk already," He yelled, causing you to let out an annoyed sigh. Katsuki put his hands in his pockets and looked out at the view, his demeanor softening slightly. "You can talk to me, you know," he added, his voice lower and kinder than before.

You stayed looking at the view for a few more moments trying to figure out how to unpack everything that had been stressing you out. It wasn't like some big thing, but a summation of a bunch of little things that were beginning to become too challenging to manage.

A cold breeze blew by causing you to shiver. You wondered why Katsuki had insisted on bringing you up this mountain to talk to you. He could have pestered you in your dorm where it was warm.

Katsuki stole glances at you occasionally then focused back on the view not wanting to intimidate you too much from his glare. Hiking always helped him to clear his mind and gather his thoughts when they seemed too loud. He thought maybe it would help you too, and being away from all your classmates might make it easier for you to talk to him. At the very least it made it easier for Katsuki to be more vulnerable with you. He found it too daunting to express himself fully with all the attention of his classmates around. It was much easier being only in your company.

You took a deep breath, "I guess- it's just been hard to balance everything recently," You finally spoke, breaking the silence. Katsuki made it easy to open up to, as he had no problem sitting in silence for long extended periods. Others in your life felt the need to fill that silence with useless chatter which always prevented you from sitting in your emotions and being able to formulate them into words.

You took in another breath feeling a lump in your throat form. You hadn't wanted to talk to anyone about what was going on for fear of opening up the flood of emotions and not being able to stop. Now here it was. You didn't want to cry on this fucking hill.

Katsuki patiently waited while you gathered your thoughts.

"It's just been so much and I've been barely keeping up. It's- been getting to me recently. I've been forgetting things I shouldn't. Being unusually upset at things that aren't that big of a deal- and I just- it's dumb." You cut yourself off afraid to say anymore.

"It's not dumb. Don't hold that shit in, it's not healthy," He said encouraging you to keep talking.

You sighed, "I just... know that it could be way worse, and I've been through way worse so- I feel so irritated at myself. What I'm going through now isn't something I can't handle. I know that. So why do I feel so fucking exhausted with everything," You replied wiping a stray tear from your cheek.

"Hmm," Katsuki grunted, processing what you said. "You know, it's ok to be tired, and- to not be perfect. You can't just deny yourself from feeling overwhelmed because it could be worse. If you're exhausted now then those feelings are real- and it's ok to have them," He spoke.

You looked down at the view watching the distant cars pass, "Thanks," You managed to say taking another deep breath.

"You shouldn't wait to handle them until they explode either. Trust me, I know what that's like," He said, causing you to let out a small giggle. "You're too damn hard on yourself you know that?"

You let out a full laugh, "Oh that's pretty good coming from you. You're the pro at having too high expectations for yourself," you laughed.

You and Katsuki were wrapped up in your conversation causing you not to notice approaching classmates in the distance. Mina and Eijiro had also decided to come up the hill after class and spotted both of you in the distance.

"That looks like we shouldn't interrupt," Eijiro said.

"Yeah," Mina agreed. "But maybe... we could get a little closer to make sure everything is ok?" She said, pulling Eijiro into the bushes to spy on you and Katsuki. Eijiro was highly against the plan but was unable to protest for fear of you two hearing.

"Yeah I know I have high expectations for myself... that's why I know what it fucking looks like when you're being too hard on yourself. So- tonight I'm coming to your dorm and, I'm making sure you get to bed at a reasonable fucking time."

Mina's eyes widened as she looked at Eijiro, "Coming to their dorm?!" She whispered, and Eijrio covered her mouth, silencing her.

"You mean Grandpa time at 9 p.m.?"

"Shut up! 9 p.m. is late as hell! You damn idiots just don't know how to have a good sleep schedule! Look I'm making sure you get some sleep and tomorrow I'm taking you out. So- figure out where you want to eat, I don't care where. And I'm not letting you say no you need a break," Katsuki replied.

"You don't have to do that Bakugo."

"Of course, I don't have to but, I want to. So just shut up and let me take care of you ok. You better not be afraid to order enough food this time either! I'm buying so- just get whatever you want, alright?"

"Ok ok," You laughed, feeling your mood brighten.

"Next time, just tell me when you're having a bad day or something. Stop making me drag it out of you. I- worry about you, you know? Now let's go back to the dorms. I see you shivering," He said, beginning to walk back down the hill.

Mina squirmed again under Eijiro's hand, keeping her silent. Her eyes said it all. She was in disbelief at Katsuki's words.

"Here," Katsuki said, holding his hand out and offering it to you. "I'll warm your hand with my quirk," he said.

You grabbed his hand interlacing your fingers with his.

"Don't dare say anything about how sweaty my hands are!" He barked.

You giggled, "How many times do I have to tell you I don't care Bakugo. It's part of your quirk, and your quirk is amazing you shouldn't be self-conscious about it. Besides, I'm always happy to hold your hand," You said as you two walked down the mountain.

"Tch whatever," Katsuki grumbled looking away from you as a small tint grew on his cheeks.

Finally, when you and Katsuki were far enough down the hill, Eijiro released Mina.

"WHAT WAS THAT?!?" Mina exclaimed.

"Shh shhh," Eijiro pleaded.

"WHAT- He wants to take care of them?!? OH MY GOD! They are totally dating right?! That's what he said he's taking them out to eat! And he's sneaking into their dorm! Wait wait- when they held hands it sounded like that had before! AND AND BAKUGO WAS TOTALLY BLUSHING! NO WAY!" Mina said looking like she might pass out from all this information.

"Ashido relax, we shouldn't have heard any of that!" Eijiro replied.

"Yeah but but-" Mina exclaimed, her head spinning. "Who knew Baklugo could actually be so sweet! I can't wait to tell Jiro-" She said, pulling out her phone.

"NO!" Eijiro said, grabbing her phone from her. "Uh- sorry, I didn't mean to be so harsh but- you can't tell anyone what we heard ok?" Eijiro said.

"WHAT?! I just heard Bakugo being the sweetest boyfriend ever and you expect me not to say anything about that?!"

"YES!" Eijiro yelled. "Look they both like their privacy and there is a reason they were all the way up here talking, Ashido. I think we should keep this a secret and let them do things at their own pace ok?" He said, handing Mina back her phone.

"UGH-" She exclaimed letting out a big sigh. "I guess you're right... but wow who would have thought Bakugo could be a decent person much less a good boyfriend." She said.

Eijiro just shrugged at her words, "I don't know he's not a bad guy like you all make him out to be you know."

"Wait! You totally already knew didn't you!" Mina said, slapping Eijiro's shoulder.

"Hey! I mean- Bakugo is my best friend you know, so yeah I did..." He answered truthfully.

"You suck! Keeping secrets like that from me!" Mina said playfully, waving a finger at him.

"I'm sorry, but it's their business you know?" He said.

"Yeah I understand, guess we should go back to the dorms too now," Mina suggested.

"Yeah it is pretty cold up here, let's go." He agreed as they both started to walk down the hill. "I don't have Bakugo's quirk or anything but- if you're cold you can hold my hand too if you want," Eijiro suggested.

Mina's face tinted a darker pink as she reached out and grabbed Eijiro's hand.

Tags: @unofficialmuilover @maddietries

Picture taken from @everypanelofkatsuki, thank you for all your hard work! Go check them out if you haven’t!

[mind-intheclouds342]

Do it for them - Co-captain x Curly

Previous - Part 7 - Next

Warning: Abortion mention.

You were watching the ultrasound you were doing on Anya, and you ran your hand over your face upon seeing the fetus.

"When"

Anya: "...I found out just before the crash..."

"Why didn't you tell me?" You turned to look at Curly on the stretcher and then saw Anya, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Anya: "For a moment I thought that... you wouldn't do anything for me either... and then, with all the responsibility you had on your shoulders... I didn't want to give you more problems."

"Why did you think I wasn't going to help you?"

Anya: "...You were always on the captain's side..."

"Well, when he had reasonable decisions, of course I agreed! Ugh... I don't want to talk about this now, let's focus on this now... How many weeks approximately?"

Anya: "...14 weeks..."

"Great, you're still on time. I know I ordered misoprostol, it must be somewhere."

Anya: "What's that?"

"It would help you to abort"

Anya: "How did you manage to get them to add that?"

"Well, I lied saying that some of the crew had gastric ulcers due to the consumption of aspirin to treat the inflammation caused by radiation when they had to go on walks outside the ship... And I sent Curly to ask for it so they didn't ask questions."

You mentioned searching through the cabinets for that medication until you found the tablet and handed it to her.

"I warn you that it's going to be hell, it's completely your decision, and I'll be with you to help you with all this."

You said, holding the pills while she watched you, slowly taking the box.

Anya: "How do you know?"

You fell silent and your eyes quickly moved to give Curly a glance, and then back to Anya, who understood immediately.

"Those are the side effects mentioned in the content if you take them when you are pregnant."

You told him right away and then sat down sighing.

Anya: "You look tired... Shall we grab a drink?"

You knew very well why he was saying that now, but you nodded to leave that place, not without first greeting your husband, letting him know you would be back soon.

Anya: "How was that?"

"I had gotten pregnant a few years ago, and we were about to make a new delivery, before that I asked Curly for a new load of medications, I was going to finish it myself on the ship."

Anya: "Why didn't you stay? Why didn't you do it in a safe way?"

"They keep an eye on everything you do, and they judge you. I wouldn't have gotten this job back, they would have done thousands of physical and mental tests to tell me I wasn't qualified to be co-captain... And I didn't want Curly to find out either."

You shrugged and took a seat while you prepared what was like hot chocolate, placing the powder in some cups and pouring water over them.

Anya: "Didn't he suspect anything?"

"I knew how to hide it, at that time there were only men on the ship, I lied saying it was my period, no one cared enough to ask more questions... Although Curly was very worried, he couldn't neglect his work that much either."

Anya: "...How was it? I want to know exactly what I'm going to face."

"...Hemorrhages, pelvic pain, depression, infections.... infertility"

You looked at the cup in your hands while saying this last part, taking a sip of its contents.

Anya: "...There aren't too many painkillers left in the nursery... Not for the three of us... Not for all this time we have to wait-"

She pressed her lips together as she placed her hand on her belly and tightened her uniform.

"Oh right, I haven't told you yet, the ship is heading to a Pony Express station, there we can ask for a rescue, we'll arrive in two more months."

Anya: "Even so, there aren't enough."

"I've already endured hell, I can do it again, don't worry about my dose."

Anya: "But-"

"Think about yourself! Please! Stop thinking about others!"

You slammed the cup against the table, causing a bit of the liquid to spill.

"It's your decision... Just...Decide... For you, not for others."

Anya: "Captain..."

You lifted your head upon hearing her say that, and you could see a small smile on her lips.

Anya: "Thank you"

[shhhsecretsideblog]

[Labor Denial, inconvenient birth] Imagine for a moment you're a professor at prestigious college. It's just the beginning of the final exam period of the year and your huge swell of twin belly has proven difficult to maneuver in your 38th week of pregnancy. Braxton hicks are a constant plague on you during the first and second day of finals and by the end of the third you're certain your belly has lowered a bit. At the end of the fourth day as you get ready for bed, a new and strengthened pain takes hold of your overstretched bump. It lasts longer than any braxton you had before, your belly even feels harder beneath your palms as it progresses.

You are still two weeks out from being full term and your doctor assured you that your babies had no interest in making an early appearance. Besides, there was no way you could miss the last day of exams, your employers would hardly approve.

In your mind, you decide these are just mildly more intense braxtons. Nothing more. You keep telling yourself this as the walk into the first test of the final day with a distinct, new pressure building in your low abdomen. You keep telling yourself it's nothing as you absentmindedly rock your hips during the first exam. You don't bother timing these pains; no need to time braxton hicks contractions. You ignore the growing pressure as students submit their exams. You ignore the slight wetness between your thighs when they shuffle out. You ignore the pain flaring in your hips as you shuffle to the next exam room.

All you need is to get through the next six hours of exams, go home, and get some rest. These pains were just the product of stressful times of exam season...

Keep Calm & Carry On

AN: thanks for a great prompt anon! Fpreg, labour denial, clothing birth. 2538 words.

Letting out a short grunt, I cup the underside of my low and heavy belly and arduously push myself up out of the chair. Being so heavily pregnant at the end of the school year, two babies wrestling in my belly, was no joke. Each week during my third trimester brought forth a new ache or pain and as I approached my due date I was regretting not taking early maternity leave. But the university was having staffing issues, there were barely enough faculty members to cover all the end of year exams as it was without me taking early leave. Plus I couldn’t exactly bow out now at this late notice. I couldn’t do that to all the students, they’d worked so hard.

So I grit my teeth and persevered through the long week of exams, through all the aches and pains and practice contractions. Only a few hours left on the final day and soon I would be at home resting for the double arrival. As I reached the exit of the now-empty exam room I had to pause and grab the door frame when another braxton hicks rippled across my taut skin. A groan slipped from my mouth and my knees slightly dipped as the wave built and built before eventually peaking with a lightning bolt of pain to my crotch. “Ooohhhhh… you need to s-stop t-this…” I muttered to the babies in my belly. “I know you’re practising for the main event but jeeze… mnnhhh… please just give me a break for a few hours.”

Unusually, the babies seemed to respond to my plea and after a particularly strong movement, with one baby’s head nestling deep within my pelvis, they settled quietly in my belly. “Phew, thank you. We’ll be done soon, I promise.” I dropped off the papers from my previous exam in the designated tray in the teachers lounge and picked up the stack of booklets for my next exam. After taking a quick breather, drinking some water and dampening the sweat from the back of my neck, I began the trek to my next exam in the hall on the other side of campus.

My body seemed to be practising for labour every few minutes at this point, each wave forcing me to stop and brace against a solid surface and breathe my way through them. I was grateful the students were all in their examination halls so the campus was empty, no one to see me hunched over my bump leaning against a wall.

“Hooohooo… oof! Come on babies, this is getting anno— annoying now—!” The weight between my legs was ever increasing, my waddle so distinctively wide it was almost comical, if not for the pressure and pain that came with it. I couldn’t stop the growl rumbling in my throat as my entire belly turned to stone and squeezed hard. The stack of booklets trembled in my hands and I was panting heavily. I wanted to go home, fighting these pains all day was draining all my energy, but I just couldn’t abandon the students. When the pain passed I fixed my expression and walked as determinedly as I could towards my next shift, my free hand rubbing the constant ache in my lower belly.

When I got to the exam I grit my teeth through the roll call and amazingly managed to walk up and down the rows of students to hand out the test papers, but my ability to stay standing was wavering fast and I plumped down on the chair behind the moderator's desk with a humph. My hands naturally gravitated towards my belly, my fingers splayed each side across the tensing swell, and I took measured deep breaths.

“Are you alright, Miss?” One of the students asked.

“Hmm? Oh, yes I’m fine.” I tried to reassure the student and keep my eyes from closing as the wave continued to build. “Y-you may turn over your papers and begin.”

The contraction built to astronomical heights and my face scrunched, silently bearing the pain of the worst braxton hicks yet. There was just so much pressure, my pelvis was screaming at me. Unconsciously my legs were wide beneath the table, my belly sitting heavily between my thighs, my hips tilting outwards in my slumped position. Thankfully the wooden desk had a modesty panel so the students could not see beneath the table or view my ridiculously widened legs.

One of the baby’s felt so damn low, as if one good sneeze would shoot them out, but I was sure the heaviness was simply a common feeling for being this advanced with twins. It couldn’t be as low as it felt, I’d have to be in labour for that, which I was not.

As time ticked on I barely noticed my body’s subtle movements, trying to keep my concentration focused on the students and their exam, ignoring all the aches and pains that my body was subjecting me to. I wasn’t even aware of when I started rocking forward and back in my chair, or when I lifted my hips off the seat…? Unconsciously I’d pushed my weight forward onto the desk, leaning on my forearms and elbows, subtly lifting my backside and easing the fiery ache building in my pelvis. God, this chair was torturous, I couldn’t find any position that didn’t make me want to scream.

Eventually I gave up on sitting, resorting instead to pacing the room keeping one firm hand pressed into my lower back while the other lifted my heavy belly. The students paid no attention, focusing on the exam papers, all too used to the moderators patrolling around the room and monitoring for any cheating.

The walking was helping the aggressive pains in my hips but it felt like the movement was bringing the baby down even lower. My breaths came thick and fast, my constant movements tiring my body but I couldn’t bear to sit back down in that chair. Another wild pain lashed across my middle and I was forced to stop my pacing, thankfully while I was at the back of the hall behind all the students facing the other way. My belly tightened, urgent and sharp, and I nearly doubled over but instead threw both palms out in front and braced against the wall. My hips were making wild circular motions that I couldn’t control and somewhere in the depths of my mind was a calling to squat down.

Fighting against my body’s instincts I clamped my mouth shut and panted through my wide nostrils. Fuck, it felt like one of the baby’s was coming out… but that couldn’t be right… I wasn’t in labour. But— but then why did I feel a need to push?! I glanced up at the clock, no phones were allowed in the exam hall, and saw I still had two more hours to go.

Two hours, I could do that. Even if I was in labour, a twin birth would take a long time. Everything was fine. I paced along the back wall of the exam hall, my fingers brushing the plasterboard keeping constant contact with a nearby surface to keep myself grounded and stable. Up and down I waddled, restless in my taut and tired skin. The waves crashing through my uterus every few minutes were creeping towards agony and I was finding it harder to stay silent. Just a few hours. That’s all I had to do. But the weight and pressure was sinking lower by the minute and I was having to bite down on my fist to refrain from groaning.

With just over an hour to go I noticed a hand go up at the front of the sea of students. Reluctantly I left my haven at the back of the room and waddled painfully down the row towards the person in question.

“Have you got any spare pens? Mine has run out.” They asked, their eyebrows pinching at seeing my exhausted and sweaty state. “Mmngg— sure.” I managed to grit and went back to my desk for the extra stationary. After providing the student with extra pens I barely made it back to the desk before the next contraction struck, a deep low groan escaping from my mouth as I curled forward and braced the wooden frame, my hips swaying instinctively against the pain.

“Oh my gosh Miss, are you okay?” One student asked in a panic. My only response was another deep groan, louder this time, as I battled the urgent squeezing that was shoving a baby’s head through my cervix.

“Shit! She’s having her baby!” One student cried out.

I shook my head frantically, trying to keep some semblance of control within the exam, despite the incessant tensing and building pressure. “It— it’s fine. Everyone back to your tests.” I tried to assure the students, even though I couldn’t move from my position gripping the desk. “I… it’s possible I’m in labour but… just carry on with your final exam okay. Labour takes hours, it’s— ooooh— it’s nothing to worry about.” The grin plastered on my face was entirely false, the pressure building between my thighs was telling me I might not have as long as I’d hoped.

Instead, when the contraction waned, I stood up and confidently sat back down at the desk and shuffled papers mindlessly and eventually the students went back to their exams. These babies were coming, I could feel it, the giant boulder in my pelvis was almost certainly one of the heads burrowing its way out of me. I straightened up, blocking any exit with the seat of the chair. Just an hour to go, I was going to make it.

I lasted 10 minutes before my determination faltered, the urge to push returning with a vengeance. There was no stopping it, my only hope was the uncomfortable but strategic position on the chair. As soon as the contraction began tightening my womb my body was bearing down uncontrollably. My head dipped, my chin to my chest, my fingers white knuckling the desk as I pushed. Fuck. The head was moving down, I could feel it as it inched lower towards the exit. I barely had time to catch my breath before my body pushed again, hard, fully leaning into the contraction and bringing this baby out whether I wanted to or not.

Through the incessant contractions and the desperate urgency of these babies to be born, I held fast to my position on the chair, blocking any exit with the seat. I was granted only a short reprieve before the next contraction struck and I was back to my silent pushing. I couldn’t make a noise, couldn’t distract the students from their graduating exam, but I also couldn’t do anything else to delay or stop the birth. I was trapped in this never ending cycle of pain. The head was right at my opening, bulging my sensitive lips into my underwear. I wanted to scream, to cry, to open my legs, but I couldn’t. One glance at the clock told me there was only 20 minutes left of the exam. I could make it.

My babies however, were not too keen on following my schedule, and even with my upright position I could feel myself opening around the head. This baby wanted out and it wanted out now. When the burning started I couldn’t help but widen my legs, throwing each thigh over the edges of my seat. My body kept on pushing, through every grievous wave of pain that squeezed my middle, and I couldn’t stop myself from pushing in earnest. The grunt that echoed my throat caught the attention of a few students at the front and I tried to offer a reassuring smile, desperately hiding the fact the head of one of my babies was crowning into my underwear.

When I let go of the push the baby retreated and sighed in relief. But this was short lived as I was back to pushing again barely a minute later. Fuck! I had no phone, a room full of students, and two babies that were desperate to get out of my body. In the short break between pushes the high-pitched ding of a bell sounded signalling the end of the exam. Everyone in the room looked up at me. My chest was heaving with laboured breaths, I gulped and managed to say “Pens down everyone. P-please leave your papers on your d-desks and exit the hall…”

The scratching of chairs on hardwood floors echoed the room as the students stood up and left the exam hall via the door at the back of the room. I was supposed to have collected each paper before dismissing them but there was no way in hell I could stand up. The next contraction was upon me before all the students left and I panted my way through the squeezing urgency of my rock-hard belly.

The crown of the baby’s head was getting bigger and bigger and the second the final student left, the door closing behind them, I let out a deep primal groan that I had been stifling for the past few hours. The head came to a full crown in my underwear and I sobbed and squirmed as everything burned white hot. Out. I needed this baby out of me!!!! With a forceful grunt I disappeared into a deep earnest push and birthed the head of my first child into my knickers.

“Mnnnnghhh… ohh god…. It’s out— the head…. Oh fuck…” With a trembling hand I felt the bulge of my trousers and the head that now sat at the apex of my thighs. “Why couldn’t you wait… just a bit longer guys?!” Before I could form any sort of plan or thought, another tightening rippled across my belly and I knew there was no stopping what was about to happen. Gripping the edge of my seat I bore down with everything that I had, the shoulders stretching me as wide as the head, and I wailed as I threw my head back.

“Oh my gosh Miss Jones…?” A voice came from the other side of the hall. I opened my eyes to see the headmistress in the doorway. “Grrrhhhh… babies are coming—!!!” I grunted and roared, pushing the shoulders out which was immediately followed by the torso of the first baby slipping out and down my trouser leg.

My colleague and boss rushed across the hall to me, wide eyed and panicking. “You poor dear, why didn’t you tell us you were in labour?” She asked, helping me pull the waistband of my trousers down so I could get to my newborn babe.

I couldn’t speak, in too much shock and trembling, an instinctual need to hold my baby was the only thing I was capable of. The infant immediately gurgled and cried as I lifted them up and placed them on my chest, wiping their face and checking every inch of my new baby.

“You did it, goodness, you had your baby.” The head teacher muttered in awe.

“Yeah… but mnnggh… I’m having twins, remember.” I grumbled, as I felt my womb contract again…

[noosayog]

[... and yet, it's you] - ft. oikawa toru

summary: there's a chinese song with the lyrics 【咸魚白菜也好好味】 which translates to "eating even dried salted fish and bok choi is good." with the meaning that i'm happy with anything as long as it's with you.

wc: 1.3k

for @shibaraki's komorebi collab! thank you for letting me participate, Monty!

1. Sharing a bathroom

The shower is already running when you finally drag yourself out of bed. Your vision is still bleary as you methodically brush your teeth, content to let your mind slowly clear out its sleepy fog to the sound of Oikawa humming in the shower.

You're at the toilet when Oikawa says, "why do you always do that?"

"Do what," you respond.

"Like… let out a little bit of pee before you pee the rest of it out."

You laugh a bit. "You're gonna think it's stupid."

"Just tell me," he says, seriously curious now.

"Once when I was really little, I dreamt that I was peeing in the bathroom but then realized I was still in bed when I woke up to myself wetting the bed."

The shower stops so you can hear Oikawa chuckling. "That wasn't what I was expecting."

"Well, I don't know what you expected but I'm not risking anything. I was traumatized."

"As someone who shares a bed with you, I'm grateful for that."

2. Movie Dates

When you pick up Oikawa's facetime call, you immediately greet him with a "I'm watching a movie and I'm getting to the good part. What do you want?"

He scrunches his nose at you, whining. "Rude!"

"Well?" you prompt. "What do you want?"

"Is it so bad that I missed you and wanted to talk to you?"

You roll your eyes, but affectionately. "I'm putting you on mute."

Oikawa throws out a half-hearted protest but he'll count it as a win that you didn't hang up completely. You mute your side of the line and prop your phone on the tea table facing you, continuing to watch your movie. Oikawa's perfectly content just watching your facial expressions through the small screen and obediently stays quiet.

He mutes his line. too, putting on reruns of an older match but periodically looks over to check in on you. And every time he does, he can't help the grin that stretches on his face as he watches your expressions change scene to scene. Eventually, he keeps his attention glued on your face through the screen, watching your light chuckles and your mouth moving when you exclaim in disbelief over something stupid a character did. By the end of the movie, you’re swiping tears from your eyes and you finally notice that your boyfriend has been watching you.

"Oh my god, Toru," you unmute to say. "That was such a good movie. We have to watch it together next time."

Oikawa's smile widens, eyes crinkling affectionately. "Anything you want, babe."

3. Out Shopping 

On a rare Sunday that Oikawa actually takes off, the two of you head to the nearest major shopping mall to pick up some kitchen items. Oikawa keeps a tight grip around your hands as you ooh and ahh at all the colorful things in the mall; one distracted moment and he would lose you in the sea of people.

As you wander to aisles, you pass by the televisions where a rerun of an Olympic volleyball match is playing. Oikawa instinctively slows down to pay attention, taking mental notes of things he should try at tomorrow's practice.

His attention is pulled away when he feels you trying to pry your fingers out of his fists, only able to pull at his hand when his grip tightens.

"Toru," you say, "let go. I want to go see the bowls over there."

"Okay, let's go then," he agrees, tearing his attention away from the screens.

"No," you say, continuing to tug at your joined hands. "You can keep watching. I'll go look myself."

"What? Why? Let's just go together," he offers, but you tug your hand free.

"It's fine," you say, already walking towards the display that has your attention.

"Hey!" he protests, trying to follow your figure that has already blended into the crowds. Even with his towering height, he does his best to follow after you, locking in on the colorful sweater you decided to wear today.

Despite Oikawa having a significant edge over you in the height department, your little legs carry you surprisingly fast as you weave through people moving in every direction. The distance between the two of you grows larger until you finally stop to admire the collection of pottery on the shelves. He hastily closes the distance before you take off again. 

"Geez, for someone so short," he punctuates this statement with a heavy hand on your head, leaning heavily on it to dramatically catch his breath, "you sure walk fast."

You swat his hands away and reach up to the top shelf for the set of bowls you like.

He easily grabs them for you and puts them into the basket that he was sure wasn't in your hands when you were still by the TVs. He plucks the basket out of your grip and continues to tease you.

"It's always the short ones that walk like today's the last day of their lives," he laughs.

"Shut up, Toru," you fix him with a scathing glare and he holds his hands up in surrender.

You scoff, but take hold of his hand again, leading him to the next display you want to take a look at. He smiles contentedly now that your hands are joined again. And that's all he really wanted. 

4. Bedtime Routine 

You’re in bed, all tucked in when Oikawa finally joins you. He quietly prepares for bed and gently gets under the covers so as not to wake you. His arms reach over, ready to pull you in for a good night kiss but he doesn’t get the chance because one of your hands pops out from under the duvet to smack him in the forehead. 

“Ow! Why?!” he sputters. 

You scowl at him. “How many times do I have to tell you to shut the door when you come in!” 

“Okay, okay,” he rubs his forehead but obeys. The door shuts. “Happy?” 

You grunt. 

He chuckles a bit, charmed at your grumpiness. 

He tries again to pull you in, but this time, your hand reaches out to pinch the nearest part of his body. That happens to be his left pec. 

“Ouch! What now?” 

“Did you open the windows?” 

Without complaint, he climbs out of bed again to open the window, allowing a gust of cold night air to swallow the room. He sees your legs wiggle a bit from under the duvet and smiles inwardly. 

For the third time, he climbs in bed but stays a good distance away in case he forgot any other part of your night ritual. 

You turn around to face him, duvet pulled above your nose so he can only see your eyes. 

“Why are you so far?” 

“Are you done hurting me?” 

You scoff. “As if you even felt any of it.” 

“My forehead is red!” he exclaims. 

“Fine, stay on that side then.” 

Oikawa can’t help but laugh, shifting over to you and wrapping you up in a hug so tight, you let out a squeal when he squeezes. He doesn’t want to let go, so he keeps his arms tight around your torso and turns to lay on his back, pulling you so that your entire body is splayed over his. 

“Toru, I’ll squash you!” 

He ignores you and just nuzzles gently into neck. You sigh and shift so that you’re chest to chest with him, your head falling to the side so that your noses don’t collide. You’ll never tell him that you like the windows open every night so that the room is cool enough for you to bask in his warmth without overheating. 

Oikawa sighs, smoothing his palm over your back. “Good night, baby.” 

You murmur it back. 

Oikawa thinks this is it. This is the life - just being able to do your silly nighttime routine with you. Your warmth lulls him to sleep and he’s almost there when he feels you prop up, palms pushing hard enough on his chest that it forces an exhale out of his lungs. 

“Did you get me a glass of water? You know I get thirsty in the middle of the night.” 

He sighs, but obliges all the same.

[dangermousie]

I was chatting about this with a mutual and it made me want to expand this because I've been thinking about this for a bit on and off.

I think the disconnect/arguments between people who watch/read books/shows/movies etc, label things as green flag/red flag and complain when there are "problematic" characters or "dynamics" - both in terms of the narratives and people who enjoy these narratives being targets and people who like me love some intense/fucked up/weird stuff is because these two groups of people approach fiction in two fundamentally different and incompatible ways.

The former view it as a sort of aspirational content or self-insert - they want to watch/read about people/lives/situations they would enjoy being in/with in real life. It's sort of a self-insert wish fulfillment, the way other people watch youtube channels about traveling the world or cooking or home decorating - you imagine yourself in this.

And I think this is where the disconnect comes in - because a decent chunk of them assume everyone else uses fiction for the same reason so if you enjoy e.g., watching a dysfunctional relationship or a bad dude/lady or some world set up that is nuts it's because you think this is all great in real world and that you want to be (or be with) with a problematic partner/in problematic situation and you think it's morally worthwhile.

To that former "aspirational" type of fiction consumer, fiction taste = morality.

But the disconnect is that for that latter "we like fucked up/dark/problematic/intense/whatever" group it's not really about aspiration or self-insert. People didn't love Hannibal because they secretly long to run off and cook humans in a stew. The fans of 2ha don't really want to kidnap their hot teacher and keep them as a sex slave in a palace. Harem dramas aren't popular because women are dying to poison and frame others to get to sleep with a fat old powerful megalomaniac. Most of consumers of mafia romances don't really think it's a great idea in real life to be taken against your will by a hot killer with abs who can't control himself around you and is great at forcing you into orgasms against your will.

That latter group (among which I find myself) likes all that stuff precisely because it's nothing they have or want to have in real life. It's a safe way to explore fantasies that would not be great in real life (I assure you most people who have noncon fantasies don't want to be raped in real life; also in real life no most people don't want to bang a buff but super murdery villain; fiction is a safe place in a way) but also to explore situations and interactions and characters you would never want to in real life from the safety of the page/screen. To use a very easy example - think of the large audience of action movies. I am pretty sure most fans of action franchises don't want to be in car crashes/insane chases/explosions/etc. Any more than roller coaster enthusiasts want to actually be thrown upside down for real or horror movie fans want to either chase someone with an axe or be chased with one. I myself love really intense situations in fiction, ones that push characters to their limits and sometimes beyond, but I cannot imagine anything less pleasant to go through in real life.

Unlike with the self-insert group, this is actually the very opposite. It's like a game of what-if, a glimpse into an alien world fascinating precisely because of its difference with my life. An exploration of aspects of life/relationships that one could never safely or happily do in one's life but are interesting at a safe fictional remove.

This is getting repetitive so I am going to stop but I really do wish more people would understand that enjoying X in fiction does not mean enjoying X in real life (or approving of X in general.) I mean, I love period epics but you'd pry antibiotics and rule of law out of my cold dead hands.

The moral panic over fiction reminds me both the old "video games make you into killers" panic of a few decades ago and the much older belief that reading novels would wreck morals of society especially by those weak women since the novels' (lack of) morality would warp them. Most people have brains and use them and can distinguish between fiction and reality. I wish people would accept that.

P.S. A corollary is conflation of morality/quality/enjoyment. By that I mean I wish more people would accept that moral message, quality, and enjoyment of work are all three separate things. You don't need to prove that some fictional piece is immoral and/or badly made to justify you not enjoying it. It can be well done and just not for you. And conversely, you do not need to prove a work having societal value or being high quality to justify enjoying it. It's fiction. Just enjoy it or don't.

[karlachismylife]

Wrote the intro the day I started this work and decided to leave it since it reflects the shitstorm in my head quite well, eh.

Okay Idk what it is with me today (I actually do know, I'm having a bad fucking night as a consequence of my own actions but I prefer not to think about it), but I just thought about task force 141 and reader that has such a bad withdrawal after their orgasm that they actually cry and not in a fun way (cue my lack of understanding how crying in bed can ever be fun, but i'm not here to kinkshame)

CW: NSFW (so minors and ageless blogs DNI, I'll block you), but there's barely any sex, hurt/comfort, body image issues, low self-esteem, chubby/fat!reader, written with afab!reader in mind (but most parts can be read as gn), potential mental health issues (?), thoughts of selfloathing and selfharm, smoking mentioned once at the end. Very self-indulgent and I'm definitely unwell, so yeah. It's also more focused on reader's inner shitstorm than the guys in many places so idk if this even really is enjoyable...

Starts as a single piece, then splits into individual blurbs/drabbles/oneshots + some polyamory cuz I'm spoiling myself today having done nothing to deserve it, lol.

They vary in size and tone since I've been writing them through several ups and downs in my own mental state, so please don't take this as a sign of which characher/combo is my favourite. I'm greedy, I like everything.

This is unfair.

Like, you just had wonderful sex, probably came more than once in a short period of time, ears stuffed with cotton, limbs weak, head spinning... and it keeps spinning, sweet tingling on the skin turning into nasty rushes of cold, muscles too tense, but it's not a cramp.

You feel like shit, every possible hormonal and neuromediator crash downing on you, a hollow, depressing weight in your chest instead of a sweet afterglow. Sweat and cum feel disgusting on you skin, your skin feels disgusting, strangling, your whole body seems revolting, too heavy, too sluggish. A sticky, suffocating heatwave on your nape, but your chest is cold and covered in goosebumps, a feverish feeling clogging every pore. Nausea wrenches into your stomach and stops just before you can relievingly barf and get rid of this parasite inside.

You simply want to dig your nails into your own shoulders instead of his and rip the skin and meat off, free yourself from this burden (you're the burden). Each second as he stays blissfully unaware, holding you tightly with his big hands and panting into the crook of your neck, drags on like a hundred hours of pure torture - the torture of being yourself.

Throwing up feels like an appropriate reaction to how unappealing and ugly you feel.

You're spiraling. You couldn't fucking keep your own messed up emotional outburst - completely unreasonable and unprovoked, by the way - to yourself, and now it's going to be noticed. You'll ruin someone else's fun. Make it all about yourself when you've already been nothing but doted on, cared and provided for. Fucked so good that your body is still clenching around that magnificent cock deep inside you.

And you're fucking crying, like an ungrateful, egotistical brat. Never having enough, unable to provide something as simple as a hole to make someone else happy without fucking it up.

Ghost notices immediately. There's nothing that can escape this man, and definitely not his love's distress. He's not reacting immediately for a sole reason: he's frozen in fear, horrified that he made you cry. How - he's not sure, he always takes great care to stay within limits, never allows himself to push you further than you both agree on. But what if he slipped up? What if he got carried away? Did he cause pain? Did he say something hurtful in the heat of the moment?

"Fuck. Hey, hey, lovie... look at me... wha's wrong? Did I... did I hurt ya?" Good thing you're hiding your face and your red eyes so desperately that you can't see how distressed and downright terrified Simon looks, lost at the sight of your tears. When you shake your head and attempt to push him away to hide your pathetic sobbing, he somewhat calms down and brings his big calloused hands to cradle your face, gently prying your own palms away and holding your puffy cheeks tenderly. His thumbs brush your tears away as he holds you, holds you through the growing rage fit of touch aversion, through the shudders and actual wailing. At some point he moves his palm to cover your eyes, a dry, dark blinder to keep the world around you shut out, help you concentrate on his voice.

He's not talking, just humming, a familiar, deep, grumbling noise that soothes all the flashes of anger, hate and disgust in your brain. You're tired now, like you're always are after such an intense outburst, and as you go limp, he finally pulls away, only to pick you up - barely a strain, a direct spit in the face of your own insecurity - and bring you to the bathroom. A warm shower evens your distorted body temperature out, his hands running over your body and cleaning all the stickiness away bring back peace with your own skin. After a quick rinse Simon holds you, your head cradled against his chest, until you make a weak attempt to help him wash too - he lets you trace his body, that perfection you adore with all its old wounds, sores and scars, for a bit, and then finishes himelf.

Gives you fresh cotton underwear and his hige T-shirt, still holding you around your shoulders and keeping the comfortable pressure even while he changes the bedsheets, kissing your temple as you find it in yourself to help.

It's only after you settle on top of him, nice, clean comforter protecting your back against the world, head on his chest right next to his heart beating in a steady rythm, he finally breaks silence.

"Need anything else, lovie?" Just like that. No prying, no occusations, nothing that would put you on the spot. You can ask him to bring you the moon soaked in unicorn's milk, and he'll just nod, kiss your hand and start dressing up, already calling Johnny to ask where the fuck did Scots hide their last horned horse and if he happens to know where they enlist astronauts.

"Just you."

His grip on the small of your back tightens and you feel his uneven, scarred lips graze the top of your head.

"Ya've got me. Always."

Soap is running hot like a furnace, still shivering and panting after what he considers the best sex he has ever had (every time with you is). He lifts his face, buried into the crease of your neck previously, and starts peppering you with slightly sloppy, grateful kisses - your neck, your jaw, your lips, your...

When he tastes your tears and opens his unbelievably blue eyes to see your expression contorted in disgust, he panics. Pulls away immediately, hands both itching to grab you and shake a reason for that look on your face out of you and too scared to touch you in case this hatred is directed at him.

"Whit's wrong, leannan? Are ye a'right? Ye didnae lik' it? Shite, lass, Ah'm so sorry, Ah didnae mean tae-" He stops yapping only when he notices the way your lips tremble as you try to plead with him, sobbing that it's not his fault.

"'M sorry, I ruined it... I'm so sorry, sushine, I just... fuck I wish I wasn't so bloody sick in the head and ugly..." Speaking out loud only worsens your anger, directed solely at yourself, and you try to wipe your eyes furiously. As the tears keep rolling, your frustration only grows - maybe if you yanked your own hair really good or slapped the disgusting pudgy cheek you've despised ever since chidhood as everyone kept pointing out how big they were...

"Ye didnae just call the love of mah fucking life ugly." Johnny's voice is a mix of a harsh order to cut your bullshit and pure disbelief. His huge paws wrap themselves around your wrists, stopping you both from harming yourself and covering your face. You're forced to look at him, and as you do, you see his handsome face flushed with a passionate anger at the intrusive thoughts in your head, heavy frown in his thick eyebrows and the sea in his eyes dark and deep enough to drown a whole fleet. You'd be scared if it wasn't obvious how hurt he is underneath it all - like a kid whose favourite plushie just got mocked by his classmates.

"It's just a toy," adults would say, and they would be bloody wrong.

"Tis not a toy, tis mah friend."

You're his friend. His love. His heart, his soul, his everything - he whispers that frantically, kissing you over and over, hot palms running over your body, wiping the cold, the stickiness, the goosebumps away. You don't have time to think, to spiral again, you're drowning in that exact sea that's spilling from his eyes, staring at you with pure devotion - a sea of affection, admiration, love, love, love.

Johnny nuzzles up to you like an animal seeking comfort, hides into your chest, right after he kisses your sweaty double chin, breathes in deeply, lets go of your soft shoulders only to grab two handfuls of your tummy, kneading it, warming up the stale blood, squeezing your big thighs between his and getting lost in the frenzy - he honestly doesn't even remember already that he was comforting you, he's fully in the worshipping mode, leaving you no chance to dip even a single toe into the self-conscious thoughts again.

You'll just have to stay there, every single tear lapped up from your face, and accept every greedy touch and word of a man utterly in love with you. Even the messed up parts.

Gaz keeps his cool despite how distraught even the thought of your sadness makes him. First of all he moves aside to give you space, makes sure you're not hurt, asking in his usual kind - unbelievably kind, so much that you burst into tears again, feeling undeserving of such unapologetically soft treatement, tone.

"Shh, shush, gorgeous, you're not hurt, are you? It's okay, c'mere, jus-st like tha', very good, love," praises keep spilling from his tender lips as he carefully helps you sit up, simply dragging you away from the damp from sweat and everything else spot on the sheets. He ends up balancing half his bare ass off the edge of the bed, but it doesn't bother him in the slightest as he feels you already coming back from that hopeless place as soon as your body gets stuck between clean, dry and a bit cool sheet and Kyle's firm lean body of a litearal god - or a prince, at least.

His deft fingers are already at work, massaging your scalp, chasing the tension away, but the second he feels you grow uncomfortable with the repetitive movement, he stops and retreats to simply holding you in a steady, reliant embrace. You know he's good with his words, that's how he got you, swept off your feet completely and made you swoon with sweet compliments, hilarious snark and smart talk.

You just don't expect him to do it all over again in the face of your burdened mind crumbling in the paradise.

"Talk to me, angel. Let me inside that pretty head, hm?"

It takes this sweettalker just a couple of words to coax whatever that ugly, slimy knot in your throat is, out. You sob, retelling Kyle every single thought that has been stuck in that coagulated mess in your head, spill the bile that has been burning your retching throat, out in the open, for him to see the disgusting ugliness of your insides - matching your outside.

Somehow throughout your choking trade his soft, careful hand never leaves your back, rubbing circles of different radius and intensity into your skin to keep the aggression at monotonous touch at bay.

"Must've been some terrible person to overbear your spirit and plant all those lies in your mind, angel." You don't catch the meaning of his words at first, glancing at him confused and whoozy after you exploded with self-deprication. Those dark, calm eyes look at you no different than before: quiet, calm reverence and determination. A thread of spider's silk, thin as a hair, but stronger than steel, his love does not waver. Were you in the right state to actually pay attention, you would've seen it only grow.

"Well, beautiful, this isn't how I planned to start writing poetry, but since you insisted... maybe I can think of a diss track about you."

"A diss track?.." Poor you, so upset that you can't catch onto the mischievous glint in his eyes and that silly smooth sarcasm slipping into his words. You're actually half a step away from believing he would diss you, destroying that already non-existent self-esteem once and for all.

"Yup. Gotta diss-tract you from all that bullshit in your head for good. Unless you'd rather me fuck it out of you instead?"

You cannot not smile at that, even if it's a weak, timid smile. Kyle's face still lights up as if he sees an actual angel, bringing the good grace or whatever.

"There ya go. First step of the mission? Success. Permission to continue? I repeat, permission to continue?"

"You spend too much time with Simon. Permission granted..."

Price undrstands what's going on before he even hears your first sob, the tension in your body and the change in your breath telling him all he needs to know. There's enough experience in this man for the both of you, he has learnt to read people and immediately accomodate them in a way that serves a common goal so long ago that it's a secong nature already.

Your comfort is that common goal.

With a grunt, he rolls you over, planting you firmly on top of his warm, burly body. Untucking your head from his hairy chest, he holds your face and does not let you concentrate on anything but his stern, focued gaze under those bushy eyebrows - but there's still that undeniable tenderness in his eyes that's always there whenever John looks at you.

His voice sounds usual too: a calm, commanding, but not harsh tone, not a loud bark any of his subordinates would hear, yet still an order. "Look at me, darling. Tha's right, look at me, look at your John. You shut whatever's going through that troubled mind of yours out and let me take care of the rest, a'right? Can you do that for me, darling? I know you can. I'll do all the thinking for ya, eh?"

Giving control over to him feels natural at any other moment, but right now you're too deep in the trenches of the war with your own mind, hissing at you with pure disgust for being so selfish. Really, now? Had to use this sweet, caring man for your own needs, and now you're dumping all your perverted, fucked up baggage on him too?

"Nuh-huh, ya're still thinking. Told ya to cut if off. You know that's not you thinking right now, dontcha? You're a smart one, love, ya know shit like this happens. And when shit happens, who are you going to to deal with it, huh?" His deep voice rumbles in his chest, seeps into your clogged ears, fills your skull with the unyielding determination and leaves no room for your own dark thoughts.

When you hesitate to answer, John slides his rough palms over your back, tracing your soft rolls and landing onto the pudge of your hips, squeezing lightly to remind you who's in charge and what your task is. "Who is there for ya to deal with shit that happens, hm, darling? Need ya to tell me."

You want to hide, escape his demand for an answer, but he keeps you firmly in his embrace, a gaze of steel unmoving from you. It almost makes you tear up again, almost feels mean of him to put you on the spot, when all you want to do is curl up in a dark corner and stay there for all eternity. But the love you have for this man overpowers even the seething hatred you bear for yourself, so you give up and murmur meekly: "You..."

"Tha's right, darling, it's your John. I'm here to deal with everything that bothers ya. Everything, ya hear? Tha's me job. Your job is to stay wit' me 'n' not overthink, eh? Especially not when it's just hormons making ya feel bad." You have nothing else left to do, other than sniffle into his chest and melt under a warm kiss he plants on your crown. "How about a cuppa, eh, darling? And something just as sweet as ya for a bite. Ya'll feel better in no time, I promise."

Ghost and Soap cancel each other's panicking out. As soon as both you and Simon slip out of the sweet afterglow, falling backwards each into your own pit of self-doubt and spiraling, Johnny starts babbling, terrified at the thought of both his beloved people feeling worse after being with him. His slurred, panting words and frantic kisses help Simon shake of his own horror - in return, he squeezes Johnny's shoulder to slow the worried mutt down and redirect his energy into helping you. Soap tenses up under the firm touch of his Lieutenant, then relaxes again, leaning into him for a moment to collect himself - they charge from each other, mere seconds of feeding off each other's energies in the middle of a time-limited mission with the highest stakes: your well-being.

They exchange glances, no words needed after the way their work together almost makes them mindreaders to each other, and turn back to you as you lay there, face painfully contorted in an attempt to keep the black foamy bile you feel rising in your throat from spilling. Slow, sticky, angry tears run down your flabby cheeks, and with each millimetre they go, your scalding wish to gouge your eyes out with your bare hands grows, just to punish yourself for being ungrateful after two perfect men spent so much of their time making you feel good.

"Dinnae cry, bonnie. Ye're a'right, ye're 'ere, wit' us. Right, LT? We're nae gonnae let ye marinate in whitevur got ye so upset." The pressure from inside your body that threatened to burst you open into a messy explosion of bile and rot, gets evened out from outside by Johnny's tight hug. He squeezes you up to the painful point, cradling against his broad chest, holding the fort while Simon leaves the bed, but not without kissing both your palms and holding them against his lips until he feels the cold leave your fingertips.

"Oi, Johnny. Help lovie get in 'ere," he calls out several minutes later out of the bathroom. Soap, who has been holding you and allowing you to sob against his heart this whole time, stroking your sweaty hair and murmuring every word of love he knows, scoops you up immediately. He pads over with you in his arms to where a warm bath is already filled thanks to Simon, and when you react to the temperature with another wave of tears, they both reach out to the tap simultaneously.

"Is tha' a'right, bonnie?" You make a strangled noise as Johnny finally sets you down into much cooler now water. It soothes you, makes you feel instantly cleaner, smaller, lighter. Breathing gets easier, that swollen blob of anger and disgust shrinking down in your chest and allowing you to inhale bathroom's damp air normally. You open your mouth to apologize and get cut off before even a single syllable leaves your mouth.

"Don't," Simon's voice sounds gruff, but even his murky reflection in the rippling water looks genuinely soft towards you. They're both perched on the cold bath edge, naked and seemingly not caring about that at all. "Jus' let us take care of you, yeah, love? Tha's what we're here for. Tha's what we want to do."

"Well, actually, there's one more thing," Johnny interjects, causing you to finally lift your sullenly lowered head and look at him, Simon's big palm using this moment of distraction to press onto your back in silent support. "Can Ah make ye a foam beard? Please, bonnie? Ye jus' 'ave the prettiest sweetest cheeks fur tha'."

Soap and Gaz feel like their world is sinking into a whirlwind of stormy clouds, the kind that sucks all light out of sky in mere seconds and can't be cut through even by blinding flashes of lightnings. There is no sun in their skies if you're not smiling, and the sound of your muffled sniffles hits their eardrums harder than thunder or explosions. The frowns distorting their faces only make you more self-aware of the fact that you ruined things between you - the initial hysteria starts rapidly flowing into complete shutdown, threatening to turn you into an emotionless shell for unknown period of time, when several warm, big hands intervene and cut the depressing trajectory down at its root.

"Damn, we did a shit job fucking all your thoughts out, didn't we, angel?" Kyle's joke sounds soft, teasing, but empathetic, ready to be met with sobs or silence instead of the usual laughter that flashes your teeth at him and makes his own smile grow brighter.

"Aye, we did. If anythin', Ah think we put more thoughts intae 'ere instead," Johnny scratches his head dramatically, and then you feel his big, hot palm on you sweaty forehead, as if he's trying to get a feel of the thoughts inside your skull. It doesn't linger there for long, though, rough fidgety fingers digging into your hair and tugging at the roots. This makes the hot-and-cold collar around your nape unclench, uncouth and chaotic massage confidently pulling every ounce of anger out of your brain. From time to time his calloused palm slips lower, squeezing your scruff, wiping the cool sweat away and taking control over what seems to have escaped your own.

"How does it feel to be the first person to get knocked up mentally, love? Having any cravings yet? Feeling your brainworms kick yet?" Dry cotton comforter suddenly covers your exposed to be looked at with disdain body, and before you can choke out a protest and something about you being sweaty and sticky and disgusting, Kyle grips your shoulders firmly, rubbing up and down as he slowly helps you sit up a bit.

"Ye eejit, how dae ye think thay can kick? They're brainworms, thay dinnae hae any legs!" The sheer passion in Johnny's heated counterarguement does the impossible - makes the corners of your deeply upset mouth twitch against all the weight the sadness put on them. Your knights in shining (from all the sweat your lovemaking covered them with) armor of their own warm skin seem to not notice the slightest twitch of your lips - there's no excessive attention drawn to you, none of them puts you on the spot. Their touch isn't going anywhere, but it almost seems mindless, simply their need to have something soft and pleasant to squeeze in their restless hands. "'N' wasnae Mary th' first lassie tae get up th' duff through th' heid?"

"That wasn't mentally, that was spiritually, read your books, Soap," scoffs Kyle, as if it was the most obvious thing, and ducks just in time to avoid a pillow thrown at him with sniper's precision.

"Oi, ye sayin' Ah cannae read now?!" Whatever snarky retort Kyle was ready to shoot, gets wiped out as Johnny tackles him, barely avoiding pushing all three of you off the bed. Their scuffle consists of chokeholds and sneaky kisses, legs getting caught in the sheets and somehow tangling you into the mess too.

Until you laugh, finding yourself squished into Johnny's hairy chest with Kyle in a gently headlock somewhere under your arm.

"Hey, hey, careful, mate, our lovie's expecting, we can't just throw 'em around!" However obvious that deflection is, Johnny reacts as if you were actually with child and grabs your face, boring his eyes into yours, slowly widening his two blue lochs in pretend horror.

"Och naw! Ah think we lost 'em, Ah cannae see nothin' there now!" Flushed after the playfight, you avert your gaze, still a trace of self-consciousness about yout outburst somewhere deep inside, but none of the "brainworms" that clogged your insides in sight indeed. Johnny's little drama earns him a soft nip on his thumb from you, and he smiles at you, clearly satisfied with the effect their little scheme had.

"Aw, damn, and here I was, ready to hear the pitter-patter of 'em little feet," Kyle's warm lips somehow find their way to kiss your temple, eliciting another shy giggle.

A pillow crashes onto both of you with the force of a small bombshell.

"THAY DINNAE HAE FEET, GARRICK, THAY'RE WORMS!"

Price and Gaz fall into their usual ways seamlessly, responsibilities and tasks split between the two seemingly without even any verbal communication. Clearing out the space around you with the same quick efficiency they clear out enemies with, they prop you up on some pillows, assess your condition in case they got carried away and hurt you, and finally settle on both sides of you, warm hands on your knees squeezing softly.

"Are ya gonna talk to us now, lovie? Or will we have to use interrogation tactics to learn what made our love so upset?" John's voice bears no trace of threat, but it still makes you cower and try to take up even less space that your curled up body already has, which earns you a sigh from the Captain. "I see. Take over from here, Sergeant. I expect results once I return."

The matress sighs with relief a Price's weight leaves it, bare feet padding a few steps before he reaches his slippers and leaves the room. The pit that the sound of your bedroom's door closing opens in your chest is crushing your ribcage with the iron fist of vacum. You can't blame John for not willing to deal with your bullshit, but the hearbreak only reenforces the choking smog in your head that's rasping in a hundred different voices that the only thing you deserve is pure repulsion.

Kyle's soft thumb pads wipe the tears teetering on the arrows of your lashes, and in a smooth movement you find your face cupped and pulled close to his shoulder. His smooth skin sticks to your wet cheek and you find yourself crying like a little kid, the unbearable pain of the revolting dark knots inside somehow replaced with surprisingly more bearable grief over what you consider an ending reltionship. Perhaps John leaving our bed finally shattered your heart, letting the ungodly pressure out and allowing it to beat - and bleed - again.

"We'd really like if ya talked to us, angel. Don't think Captain can stand there bare-ass naked much longer, might catch rheumatism at this point, he's not getting younger, you know..."

"I hope you know I can hear you perfecrly clear, Garrick." You stop mid-sniffle, eyes snapping to the closed door. You can finally see the shadow of a man standing just outside, and the air slowly feels with some flavour you can't distinguish through all the snot yet, but seem to like a lot...

"Good, so your hearing's still intact, sir. You're in good shape," Kyle's cheeky remark must've broken John's famous patience and restraint, because the bedroom door finally opens, and you see him there. With a tray with a whole bunch of tea mugs and little plates of treats balanced in his hands.

"Still not talking? Well, we'll try another method then, lovie. Sandwich for your thoughts, eh?"

His cheeks are round with a kind smile, confusing your tortured mind even further - Kyle uses your stupor to fetch John's big, slightly scratchy bathrobe, successfully wrapping you into a cocoon of grounding stimulation all over your feverish skin. With a huff and a grumble about staying butt-naked a bit longer, John puts a pleasantly warm mug into your hands and looks at you, arms crossed and tucked into his armpits now that he got rid of the tray.

Expecting an answer.

"'M sorry..." seems appropriate right up to the moment when a little finger-sandwich gets shoved into your mouth. The bread is soft, nice, salty ham and crunchy cucumber filling your senses and cracking a bit fat line of light right in the middle of the dense cloud in your thoughts.

"Try again, love," Kyle gives a hint and wipes a crumb off your lips, licking it off his thumb. "We don't need an apology, we just want to know what's troubling ya. John, tell 'em."

"Already did," grumbles Price in response and clears his throat, sitting back down on the creaking bed. "Food's working though. Eat up, darling, get your energy. Then we'll talk properly, a'right?"

You chew slowly, still stiff in your own body, but regaining control gradually. Yes. Then you'll talk.

Ghost and Price exchange a single glance over your from, choking on the self-destructive rage, and John shakes his head so slightly that one can barely notice, but it's clear enough to stop Simon from tumbling down the traumatic spiral staircase of his own. Grounded by his Captain's presence, he shrugs his broad shoulders, shaking off the creeping up feeling of his own monsterous nature, and rolls onto his back, pulling you out of the miserable wet ball of wrinkled sheets and onto his firm lap, sideways, his big palms resting comfortably around your hips; he's not squeezing or digging his fingers into the fat like he usually does, but it's a secure hug you can't really escape.

Exposed held too far away from his chest you could hide on, you shrink, rising your shoulders protectively and trying to cover up your soft belly, spilling over your pelvis in a shapless manner - that's when John's arms come from behind, catching yours and instead of pulling away forcefully, simply repeating your own safety cocoon, hiding your body from your distorted sight and keeping you warm.

"You're not thinking straight right now, darling," every phrase he murmurs gently, calmly, convincingly into your ear is accompanied by a little kiss, beard tickling and burning your already irritated by tears skin. "So good for us, so kind. Can you spare some of that kindness for yourself?"

Even though it doesn't sound like a rhethorical question, Simon cups your cheek and shushes you tenderly, pressing his thumb to your lips, allowing John to continue with his little speech aimed to dispel the storm coagulated in your chest.

"'Cos if not, it's a'right, love. We know it's hard, and ya're doing good already. Ya 'ave us, eh? To love ya, to cherish ya. No need to overthink, jus' let us hold you, a'right?"

He finally pushes you onto Simon's chest, his big heart stuttering with worry as you seek shelter among his many scars that paint a horrifying picture once you put all the fragments together.

"How'd you do that, sir?" Simon's voice sounds vulnerable - so much that it strikes through all the layers of your egocentric self-hatred and shifts you almost immeditely into a completely different mindset; one where you throw your whole self into loving your scarred and battle-worn men in such abundance that it's ought to compensate for all the unfairness they've gone through.

There's no need for it now, you realize a little too late: Price is there, keeping Simon away from the darkness. They're fine. Better than ever. It's a distraction, a trick, a play to make your bleeding heart stop the internal self-destruction and turn to healing.

A sly little switch you're not sure they were planning to flip, but it worked.

"Hm?" As if emerging from the depths of his thoughts in response to Simon's question, John caresses your cheek as gently as his rough thumb can and then smiles, maybe catching onto the change in your mood or simply remembering all the times he pulled Ghost out of the same gloom and darkness. "Jus' taking care of me own, Simon. Tha's what a Captain does, no? Now, love, how about a shower? I reckon we can squeeze in all together and papmer you really good, what do ya say, eh?"

Ghost and Gaz manage to keep their cool. Kyle's confident and gentle presence serves to reassure any doubts Simon has about hurting you, he shoots a single glance at his sergeant and recieves support immediately. Two pair of hands cradle you with all the tenderness two soldiers are capable of, which is always enough to drown you in fully. It's a tight hug, a hot mess of limbs, too much skin on skin contact that makes your brain flare with undirected rage, but as seconds trickle by and you're still trapped between two firm bodies, you have no choice but to slip into the exhaustion phase of your outburst.

It's not pleasant, nor could you say you feel calm; if anything, you just petrify, a permanent frown on your face and blindly staring forward glass eyes. You're tired, you'd still rather be anywhere but inside your own body that still feels like a useless deformed bag that should be gutted and emptied to lighten up, inner layer of your skin scrubbed with a knife to peel off the suffocating thickness of fat trapping this heated rage inside...

Instead, you get a kiss.

It's Kyle, soft, full lips touching your wet with tears cheekbone, then again - your temple, your cheek, the overheated spot behind your ear. They're light, soft kisses, too gentle to be playful or arousing. Calming. They do not demand anything in return - he allows you to stay in your inner world where you feel secure, even pauses to kiss Simon the same way right in front of your eyes. A silent demonstrationg of the love and reverence these pecks carry, Simon's hooded eyes fluttering shut as if his own compartmentalized demons get exorcised by Garrick's touch.

"Wanna talk about it, angel?" Kyle's voice rumbles at a nice, grounding, smooth timbre, and your still-too-slow mind struggles to grasp how is it possible that he's talking and you're still getting kisses - until you recognize the uneven texture of Simon's scarred lips, trailing along your skin tenderly. "Whenever you're ready, love. But we would love to know what's going through your head right now."

It feels strange to say it out lound when you're held and caressed like this, but their kisses and solid embrace cleared your windpipe enough of the mental gunk for you to be able to speak.

"I hate myself... 'M disgusting, and-" A displeased grumbling kiss from Simon interrupts you, and even Kyle pushes his huge shoulder to reprimand his own Lieutenant for the interference. Kisses his temple immediately to make amends, though, and turns back to you, prompting you to continue.

"Wot? Don't like when someone talks shit 'bout mine," grumbles Simon like a dog that got flicked on the nose for growling at welcome guests.

"Let 'em talk, mate, it's good to get things off your chest." At least their little bickering coaxes a tiniest hint of smile out of you, and Simon, noticing it immediately, stares back at Kyle with such pride, as if he just did something great.

The thing is, in the way his arms squeeze you a tad bit tighter, pressing into his firm body, you can read that for him - your smile is the greatest achievement.

"Don't tell me you prefer his silent treatement, angel, I'm trying to be the attentive boyfriend here, and for what?" Your smile grows a little braver. A little brighter. You would've kept talking if you could remember what it was that hurt so fucking much in your chest.

"Shower. Then a cuppa. Then we have the talk." No one dares to argue with the Ghost and his gruff commands. You feel the sheet sticking to your skin as he lifts you up, Kyle already sneaking off to prepare towels and clean clothes for you three. He'll stay with you and help you wash the remaints of the mind attack off. Simon will make fresh tea.

You're going to be alright.

Price and Soap take quite an intense approach the second they notice your distress. You feel Johnny's weight disappear from you after the first strangled sob that escapes you, and if you could open your eyes glued shut by the hot, messy tears, you would see John practically dragging the poor Sergeant away by his scruff. It's easy to suspect that Johnny couldn't contain himself and went too hard, too rough on you - with no malice, but pure passion that's spilling from his big, hot heart every time he gets to be close to you.

But it's not Johnny's fault, neither is it John's. It's all you, a useless, pathetic thing, good for nothing and holding two gorgeous men to yourself like a greedy glutton hoarding delicious food.

"Ah'm sorry, bonnie- ow, Ah got it, Ah got it, Ah'm not touchin'!"

"Did we hurt ya, love? Was Johnny boy too rough wit' ya? Wha's wrong?"

You feel big warm hands gliding over your skin, quick assessment of your state in search of potential harm caused. This immediate care only makes you feel worse, every cold sweaty patch of your disgusting hide shivering and twitching under Captain's careful touch. You struggle against your own spiraling anger, fight it with what's left of your exhausted resilience - and lose, curling up with another burst of tears, shoving the loving hands away and dusting the lingering warmth off your body.

After all, you do not deserve to be treated with such kindness after the fit you just threw.

"No, no, no, it's not his fault, it's not Johnny's... it's me, it's my fault, it's all my fault, I ruin everything, I'm- I'm disgusting!"

The silence that follows you blowing up on them is heavy. Just as bad as the knot in your chest.

"Johnny."

When you open your eyes to find a way out, run away, scatter and hide in the furthest corner of the apartment until everyone who tried caring for you leaves again, you're met with Johnny's bright blue eyes, glistening with unshed tears.

It's a shocking sight, pushing you out of the muffled misery into an alerted worry - his face is red with unexplainable pained anger, fists clenched as John holds him tightly by hunched shouders, seemingly trying to prevent a violent outburst.

"Ah wanntae ken names of th' bastarts who made ye feelin' tis wa'. Ah swear Ah will mak' thaim fuckin' choke oan thair ain tongues, Ah'll rip thair spines oot 'n' shove thaim up thair-" - "Enough, Johnny. Stand down. This won't solve anythin'. Ya calm down and help our lovie feel better, a'right?"

Still a bit shells-hocked, you stir on the bedsheets and push yourself up to sit upright, stretching your arms hesitantly to the men in a weak attempt to remedy whatever shitstorm you caused in their minds.

"Don't get mad, please," you whisper sheepishly, and the shy sound of your still choked voice seems to wash Johnny's explosive anger away better than the firm grip of his handler's (Price's) hands. With a look of a beaten dog, Johnny huffs loudly, cuddlng up to you and hiding his face in your lap. His heavy jaw sinks in the plush of your thighs, accomodated nicely with the softness of your body.

"'M nae mad at ye, leannan. Jus' dinnae say tha' again, a'right, bonnie? If ye need me tae prove ye-"

"No..." your hand finds it place in his damp mohawk and brushes through, while you glance at John. His eyes are shimmering with love and love only as he looks at you and Johnny, and you feel a wave of shyness - the good, giddy, warm kind - replacing the paralyzing shame. "I'm fine already. With you."

"Maybe we should 'ave a little chat 'bout it, love," John's hand meets yours on the sad mutt's head in your lap, intertwinig fingers with you through Johnny's soft hair. "When ya feel better. Jus' so we know what we're dealing with, eh?"

"Yeah. A bit later. Thank you."

All four of your men get frozen witnessing your reaction, struck with a horrifying sense of helplessness - it feels like the biggest failure among many unsuccessful missions, operations where lives were lost and enemies missed, to have you curling up and crying in misery between all the love they've been pouring onto you just mere seconds ago. As if everything they touch is bound to go up in flames, drown in blood and rot, be it on the outside or from the inside.

They're lost, and as always, they turn to the Captain, giving themselves up for him to direct, trusting that he knows better what use they can be of.

And, frankly, he does.

They're barely talking, but the commotion around you is decipherable even through the red mind fog and closed eyes - it honestly only makes you feel worse, unsafe, exposed, despite that simply being Soap, sent off to fill a bath ("Ye want it hot or a tad bit cool, bonnie?" - Silence. Your nails dig into your scalp, the soud of someone simply breathing, even more so talking to you, sending you into a new fit of rage. "Make it warm, Johnny, we'll adjust later."), and Simon, leaving for tea duty - silently, your favourite way to have it attentively observed in the first two weeks you've been together and memorized ever since.

It's Kyle whose voice, murmuring into your ear sweet, reassuring nothings as he keeps you caged in a tight embrace, your back pressed against his warm chest, forces you out of the highly irritable state. You have no choice between his short, chaste kisses on the crown of your overloaded head, and John's calloused hands massaging your calves, soft flesh dipping under the firm pressure.

"Ya jus' focus on fighting tha' storm off, a'right, darling? We'll take care of th' rest. It happens, we know it does, 's not your fault. Jus' a funny lil' thing your mind does, eh? Yeah, love, we know wha' it's like when your mind does funny things. Don't we, Kyle?"

"That we do." Maybe it's just your own depressive state rubbing off on them or distorting your perception, but Kyle's voice sounds almost solemn. You would turn to look into the smoky quartz of his eyes, but either he holds you too tight, or you have barely any strength left in your upset body - you simply can't.

Maybe it's alright. Maybe tonight they don't need you ripping your heart out to tend to their restless minds, and you can just allow them to take care of you.

Allow Kyle to carry you to the bathroom.

Allow John to stay there and help you wash yourself with a nice, scrubby loofah.

Allow Johnny to bring in his huge, baggy loungewear that doesn't hug your curves too snugly and allows you to simply forget what you were so angry about for a while.

Allow Simon to serve you perfect temperature tea in your favourite mug and keep you quiet company on the balcony, night air cooling your wet and clean now skin and hair further and blowing all thoughts out of your troubled head away.

As you share a cigarette with rich clove aftertaste, breathing ironically becomes easier. Behind your back the bedsheets are being changed, proper meal is being cooked, a good movie you won't be upset falling asleep to is being chosen.

"Simon." - "Hm." - "You sure you're okay with me being like that?" - "Standin' in the wind with your hair wet, tryin' to catch a cold?"

You grunt, not appreciating him taking the piss while you're tryig to be vulnerable, but allow him to pull the hood of Johnny's hoodie onto your head.

"No. I mean, fucked up in the head?"

You don't actually know what answer you expect. With an unreadable expression, Simon turns his head, looking through the glass door at the men crowded in the living room and waiting for you, and then stares back at you with a smirk, a permanent scowl carved into it by someone's cruel hand.

"Nah. Tha's how I like 'em."

He throws the cigarette butt away and chuckles, cupping the back of your head and pulling you inside, into the warmth of home.

"Oi, bonnie! C'mere, As saved ye a spot." There is no spot as you look at the two-story cuddle pile on the sofa and the blanket nest in front of it, unless of course... ah, yes, Johnny's patting his lap. "Ah promise Ah'll behave. Mostly."

And as his warmth envelops you through a big hug, his hands clenched humbly on your belly and behaving indeed, you feel stupidly happy.

Because you're enjoying touch again.

[fuctacles]

<<4 | 5 | 6>>

Eddie held back and was nice enough to give him an ice pack after. 

"Thank you," Steve murmurs, placing the frozen peas on his chin. He's not taking his eyes off Eddie, who's wired up and walking back and forth in the tiny kitchen. Steve is low-key expecting another hit. If he had his tail, it would be tucked between his legs. 

"Why?" Eddie finally asks, the first thing he says since the punch. But before he can get an answer, he follows with: "Does everyone else know?"

"Yes," Steve admits guiltily. "I didn't want to drop it on you right after the Upside Down, but the longer it took, the weirder it got, and I just..." he trails off with half a shrug. 

Eddie scoffs, sending him a glare while his strides pick up speed. It would look ridiculous, since it takes only three of his steps to walk through the kitchen, if it wasn't so serious. 

"You made it weirder alright. Why did you follow me around instead of hanging out like a normal human being?!" He throws his arms wildly around, almost hitting the fridge. "Or did you just want to keep tabs on me? Like a weird little dog-stalker?!"

"No!" Steve protests indignantly, but then falters. "Well, I— Kind of? But just to, you know, protect you."

Eddie finally stops. Which is not a good sign as far as Steve is concerned, but Eddie just stares at him. 

He recounts the run-ins they had with the local righteous mob. He reimagines them with Steve by his side instead, the human one, and there's no universe in which it doesn't end up with an escalation. People don't normally pick up fights with dogs, apparently. But...

"Was sleeping on my couch and eating my hot dogs also to protect me?"

Steve folds in on himself and Eddie can almost imagine his sad dog ears flopping down. 

"No, I just—"

Eddie's suddenly in his line of vision, squatting in front of him to peer into his face mockingly.

"Was it just for fun? Little doggy wanted belly rubs and treats? Make everyone look at me weird because I'm scratching Steve Harrington between his ears?" he scoffs. "And dude, I would do all of it, if I knew it was you. You were worried it would be too much for me after Vecna? I'm a nerd! I eat that shit up. Do you know how much better I'd feel knowing werewolves are real?!"

Steve is not even surprised at his outburst. He just shuffles his legs and corrects softly:

"Lykans."

Eddie jumps up, throwing his hands into the air.

"Oh, now you're gonna tell me?! You lost your naming privileges, man, you're a werewolf, period."

He leans against the cupboards behind him, foot tapping restlessly. But he was angry at so many things at once, that he didn't know what to grasp first.

"Why did you avoid me?"

"I didn't—"

"You did," Eddie interrupts him. "I never saw you around, only the dog. And then you started avoiding everyone else too. Why?"

Steve sighs, slipping the half-thawed pack of peas away from his face. His body slumps like any traces of fight have just left him.

"I guess it was easier. I could just walk around, keep an eye on everyone, and not... explain myself."

"Can't lie without vocal chords, huh?"

Steve sends him a tired look, and Eddie feels the tiniest of bits bad. He raises his hands placatingly. 

"I'm not your therapist. But I thought I was your friend."

"You are! Just..."

"Just not good enough to share the truth with?" Eddie offers.

Steve groans, this time unfolding to fall against the chair's backrest. 

"See, this is why I prefer shifting. I don't have to explain my thoughts to others, nothing is weird and unspoken, and everyone fucking loves me. They pet me and tell me nice things. But when I'm a human, I'm getting laughed at, dumped, used for rides, and have to stay alone in a big empty house."

Eddie just blinks at him, his anger slowly shifting into concern. 

"That's uh, a lot to unpack there," he says gently, pursing his lips in thought. "You know we've been worried about you, right? That we don't see you anymore. I mean, I didn't know at the time, but the kids knew something was going on with you."

Steve scoffs.

"Yeah, they noticed when they had to go beg Nancy for rides."

"Dude." Eddie frowns at him, both irritated and concerned. "I am so tempted to get your other cheek right now. Didn't Dustin call you to clear the air between us?"

"Yes, because you called him first," Steve reminds him. 

"Still, he could have left it for us to deal with on our own. But he cares, so he reached out. " Eddie sighs. "He wants us to be friends, but most of all, he wants you to open up; not to me, but to the rest of the party. So why are you holing yourself up, man? What's wrong?"

Steve doesn't move from his semi-open position, but he crosses his arms, and he's looking away at Wayne's cap collection, visible through the open space to his right. 

Eddie just looks at him, the worry in his stomach growing like a parasite. He decides that maybe this is enough for today. Enough feelings, talking, and confessions. That it is time to clear the air.

And by 'clear' he means 'cloud it with smoke'.

"Let's put a pin on that," he says and finally, Steve looks back at him, both worried and curious. "I think we both need to chill out and I still have that weed stored away for you. And a really bad horror from Gareth. The blood looks like ketchup, you're gonna love it."

Tags: @noodle-shenaniganery @jaytriesstrangerthings @imaginary-maggie-waggie @samsoble @croatoan-like-its-hot

@dragonmama76 @storyranger @scoops-aboy86

[bunnwich]

It's Supposed to Be Fun

(a letter to my friends in the twst fandom)

I've been wanting to make this post for a while and these thoughts may seem scattered but I’m gonna try to express them. 

Lately, I have seen many friends and moots that either are leaving the fandom or feel guilty over not having posted in a while or losing interest in twst. On the other side, I also have friends being harassed.

This a reminder to remember why you joined this community to begin with. I know that keeping up with the fast-moving pace of fandom and comparing ourselves to others, can skew our perspective on these things.

It’s supposed to be fun. 

Why do we post art or write? Sure, partly for recognition, there's no denying that. But, why do we create, I mean really? For enjoyment. Not for others, not to be “popular” FOR JOY.

So, whether you’re dealing with people critiquing you or feeling guilty about not creating. My question is this: Why waste so much of your time on something that makes you miserable?

Did it stop being fun? Why? Haters? Loss of interest?

To my friends who feel guilty for not creating and not sure if they lost interest in twst: 

Don’t feel guilty. At one time, the creation of your twst content was natural. It's what you did for fun with friends or for yourself. Revisit that mindset and think - if creating twst content now will bring that same joy it did before.

If the answer is no, then maybe it’s time to pivot. It’s okay for interests to fade. It doesn’t mean that time, memories, or the friends you made are lost. Connect with your friends, we will understand! We still love you! It's not a race there's no time limit, just pick up were you want to. Draw fanart of old events or OCs.

To my friends who have been harassed: 

I say this with sincerity…. People who harass others over fictional characters are fucking losers.

Like… There’s no other eloquent way to encapsulate it. I’m starting to not care for the reason anymore - If you harass or be shady to others over a ship or fictional character. CONGRATS! YOU ARE A LOSER.

We all join fandoms as a hobby, for fun. We’re all just kids in the sandbox playing pretend again… and if you are the type of person to go up just to “kick the doll out of someone’s hand" or make commentary on how “their way of playing is wrong." You’re a loser. I have a life outside of twst, we all do. Someone saying my ship is wrong or cringe is just so laughable to me. We have to make fun of these people more for being so goddamn lame.

Imagine being so unhappy that when you see someone having fun you HAVE to comment on it. By all means, if it gets you through the day...talk shit to close friends or even post about it on your own blog. (THAT WAS ALWAYS ALLOWED.) Don't bother creators directly. Don't be a loser. I sure see tolerance leave people’s bodies when they see a fandom opinion they don't like. (And this is coming from someone who has lots of opinions on these things! But that's why I always put the disclaimers that, hey this is just MY opinion.)

Discussion is one thing, unhelpful comments are another. We shouldn’t give these people the time of day. Curate your online space. Yes, when you post things online you are subjecting yourself to scrutiny. But, we as creators need to stop letting these people have power over us. Period. We do this for free!! FOR FUN. The best thing you can do is create shamelessly.

Delete weird replies, block whoever you need to do to rid yourself of these people who have nothing better to do. Keep your peace. It’s supposed to be for fun. You don’t owe anyone a response.

The twst fandom is like a little family to me and I guess I feel protective over the people in it?  I have made many friends and memories because I joined it. And even dispite a handful of the negative experiences (AKA: A couple of “losers" that I’ve had to deal with.) I’ll always look fondly back on this time.

The key for me has always been to just…create for myself. I originally made bunnwich for me and one friend to make fun little arts about our Yuu’s and now I get to have lots of friends to share it with! I’ve transitioned from an OC blog to probably more of an Oc x Canon blog…but I don’t care tbh. I just…draw what I feel like. I know there are people who probably dislike me for that or feel strange about my content and that’s fine. I’m still gonna keep drawing it, loser.  

And I just want you guys to do the same, twst or not.

I can’t forget that all my followers and friends are a bonus, if I had never joined tumblr I’d still be drawing the silly shit I draw in peace. And while yes, I do want to grow as an artist and sell more merch and keep growing... I can’t forget my initial excitement for this silly little game. I like to talk about it. I like to write about it. It inspires me.

It’s supposed to be fun. Please remember that. I know it can be discouraging to have others being shitty to you. Or going through a creative drought. But, try not to let this stop you from creating what you love.

[erinwantstowrite]

hey so obviously peter is pretty clueless about his feelings towards ned but once he figures it out is he going to be like “oh this makes so much sense” and just kind of accept it or is he going to have more of a crisis about liking boys

bc obviously we know he’s not homophobic but it’s different when it’s yourself

i come from a super supportive family so when i figured i liked girls i was just like “huh, okay” and moved on but like with peter and his experience with skip and i don’t know how supportive some of his other families were in the foster system, is it going to be more of a existential crisis for him? like internalized homophobia

i don't have it fully fleshed out yet because i know things will change once i finally get there (it's a SLOOWWWWWBURN) but i do think about this a LOT. because while i do like to avoid writing romance, when i do write it, i want to do it right. so i often think about what peter's realization will be (keeping that part to myself teehee) and how he'll deal with it

it's less of an internalized homophobia that he has to conquer and more of like... he never even considered this an option. he never had the time or mental capacity to think about this sort of thing before. life moved fast and he was always in the middle of a grieving period or some crazy superhero shit just happened to him. he didn't stop to think about his sexuality or potential romance beyond a "well one day I'll think about it" so when the moment does happen where he's thinking about it, he's struck with the fact that he knows basically nothing about how romantic love applies to himself.

at this point he knows he can be loved by friends and family, but romance? it's a whole new ballgame and he has NOT been paying attention to the rules. he thought he was just watching from the sidelines, cheering other people on. he thought he had far more many years to figure it out

he knows what love is- he can thank Ben and May for that (and on some level, his parents, though he only knows of his parents' love through how Ben and May described them). Peter's example of two people who love each other is almost entirely based on the love Ben and May had, and Ben and May are the type of people that made other people believe in soulmates. they completed each other in a way that was impossible to comprehend fully. where one was, the other was there. Peter understands romance through them, but there are other adults in his life that are in love. Tony and Pepper are a little unconventional and Peter doesn't fully understand their dynamic sometimes, but they love each other. and depending on who our ships are (tbh I haven't fully thought them through because it doesn't really matter to our plot), Peter sees other Avengers find love too and express it in a multitude of different ways. and when he looks at the Bats?? jesus christ. i think we all know how that goes. Bruce has more messy exes than anyone ever on the planet so Peter has already been told not to look there for an example. Dick too, is not immune to that, despite being in a committed relationship with Wally. Tim has two boyfriends and... whatever he has going on with Cassie and Bart at some point, as well as having many many exes. Steph is literally one of the exes and Peter doesn't know if the two's relationship now is normal or out of the ordinary or something to strive for. he won't ask because he's not nearly there

so Peter i think... is going to be overwhelmed and not know what to do next. Ned is his first best friend, someone that he clicked with immediately. and while i do hint at a puppy crush between the two of them (where Ned is far more aware than Peter is, the poor guy), their relationship is foundational in friendship. Peter is going to be more freaked out about ruining that than finding out he's bi. he won't have a clue what to do and i honestly think (at least right now this is what i plan) he is going to be far too embarrassed to admit to anyone he has a crush. like???? forget about asking Bruce, he obviously doesn't know. Asking any of his parents (save MAYBE Pepper) would be an immediate no because 1) that's like asking him to jump out of a plane with no parachute and 2) if they give him The Talk 🐦🐝 he will die and everyone else will die and no. scratch asking literally anyone else on the JL or in the Avengers. sure, he'll trust them to save his life. but trusting them to not give bad advice or tease him or accidentally tell someone else or snitch to his parents? nah. that leaves only two people on the planet who Peter could confide to, both who knew before Peter knew (not hard to do): MJ and Felicia

which is so unbelievably funny and y'all don't even know WHY it's so funny to me yet. but I love them so much

[drdemonprince]

i read in the comments to my last ask about "ordinary unhappiness" the idea of depression as a lack of agency and i feel like that is true? when i feel miserable and in pain, it's not because something is sad but because something is either unachievable or impossible (or at least there is the perception of it). and like i think that's what you were getting at too? this thing that drives you to keep going, this lack of satisfaction. i simply don't have anything i can give into such that i would ever even feel a lack of satisfaction. i've never had anything to give myself into and feel frustrated and perhaps sometimes successful in but instead i just envy the people who do have those things. nothing i've ever done has felt maintained a sense of emotional connectiveness in that way (positive or negative). i guess to wrap this back around to another potential talking point, i'm curious how you find that in your life? is it weird for me that nothing has ever felt worth putting myself whole ass into? idk, i find it envious you've got both writing and gay hypno fetish stuff you're able to just throw yourself into so wholly and utterly

Passion isn't inherent, it can be a choice too. I only look like I care a ton about writing and gay hypno stuff because I have deliberately chosen to pursue those passions, for many years, and cultivated a deep interest in them, anon.

When I was in my early twenties, I felt completely empty. I was a void. If you've read the first chapter of Unmasking Autism, this is the period I'm talking about in that book. I went away to graduate school (because I was good at academics, and I had some illusions about what a career in that field would do for me), but I had absolutely zero zest for the subject of psychology at that point. I had no research ideas. I read psychology books and publications purely out of obligation. I did what was required of me, but nothing additional beyond that, and I spent the rest of my time sitting at home, sometimes literally staring at the wall and crying. I had no friends or hobbies, aside from taking long, long depression walks listening to podcasts in order to fill the silence.

This was when I was at my most depressed, and my most suicidal. Just existing was a pain. I'd sob in bed at night and cry out begging for God to kill me, and I didn't even believe in God. The only thing that distracted me from my pain was a guy I was seeing, who was beautiful and very cruel and inconsistent, and I clung to him through all kinds of lies and abuse because it felt as though my happiness was located inside of him.

I had a friend that I wrote to about how miserable I was, and all the twists and turns that my horrible romance was taking. Her name was Heather. (Unlearning Shame is dedicated to her). She told me hey, you're a really good writer, did you know that? I really enjoy reading your emails, even when you're speaking about the most pitiful anguished shit, you really put it poetically and have a ton of insight. You should write more.

For a while, I ignored her. I didn't care about writing. I just wanted to get my pain out on the page because I had nobody to talk to, and oodles of time to waste. I had nothing otherwise that I felt I HAD to say. I had no PASSION. I did not feel like I was put on this earth to do anything. Other people seemed to have these drives, and I had nothing.

But then one day in a fit of depression I stopped by a bookstore right near my apartment, The Armadillo's Pillow, just to get outside of the house. I happened upon a book I had loved in high school, Jonathan Franzen's The Corrections. I took it home. I read it. It transported me for a few hours away from my pain. I went back to the book store and picked up some sci-fi. A John Varley collection, I think. I was also swept away from my suffering, even when the stories had flaws that I noticed. I was interested in the actual craft of storytelling: what worked and what didn't. And there was finally some beauty in my head instead of the usual dreariness and self-hatred and emptiness.

And so. I made the choice to write. I could have taken it or left it at that point. I didn't care about anything. Caring is a muscle that you have to flex. And when you're depressed, it can be very hard. I needed a lot of nudges from the external world and other people, to realize that I had some things I did gravitate toward, even if I didn't realize it.

All that time of course I WAS driven to write. I was churning out 5k word letters to Heather every day practically. I was reading stupid shit online. And when it was put in front of me, and I had no reason to feel guilt about not working hard enough on other things, I reached for books. But I didn't feel passion strongly under the heavy blankets of my depression. Or usually at all, really. I am a quite internally muted person whose emotions are suppressed. But they're there. Speaking to me softly. And to overcome my depression, I had to decide to listen to them instead of ignoring them all of the time, and give them kindling, and then fan them into a flame.

I started blogging regularly while I was in graduate school (right here, hello, you can check my archive dating back to 2011), and finding a reason to live. When I was writing, I felt like the world was interesting, and beautiful. It gave me new things to do. I attended literary readings and book launches all over town. I submitted work to magazines. I bought old copies of magazines and read them. I inhaled books. I listened to fiction podcasts. I joined writing groups. At first, it felt like a slog, like anything else. Doing these things, I was not "happy". But I was interested. I liked learning about the world of publishing, critiquing people's stories in my head, and commisserating with other Tumblr writers about the stuff that got featured on the Prose tag that sucked.

After YEARS of doing this, of choosing to fan my passions, it became a genuine motivation in my life. But even then? I lose track of it sometimes. I get busy, or there's no place comfy to sit and read in my apartment, and I forget that I like writing and reading for months at a time. And then I have to choose it again. It takes effort to care about something, every time.

It's the same way with hypno. I did have a fetish for this stuff all my life long. But it's a passion that people always thought was weird and gross, and that I thought was bad. I didn't tell anyone about it until my late 20's. I felt ashamed masturbating to it or looking up hypno content online. For years I snuffed out that flame of passion until I could barely feel it anymore. It wasn't until I was super depressed AGAIN in my later 20's that I took a bunch of weird off-label anti-depressant drugs under the table and had a weird dreamy headspace overtake me and make me insanely horny that I remembered how much I loved hypno, and because I was in search of an escape from my tormented brain, I sought hypnotists out.

And I had the time of my life. But I also had boring, awkward encounters, bad hook-ups, and had to do a ton of work.

My passions have drawn me out of depression because I needed them to. I had to find them, listen to them, and then give them lots of food. And it's one of the few things that a person does often have agency over, no matter how dispiriting their circumstances. You can make choices about where to put what attention you do have, in what free moments you do have. When you're on the bus or in line at the grocery store and you're thinking about how much you hate yourself, you can try to think about a story you read or a sexual fantasy you had, instead. It's a lot of work. But it's better work than the work of hating yourself, which takes a whole lot of energy and attention itself.

I hope you can find something like this for you. It doesn't really matter what it is. It can be some hobby you've always wanted to try, or something "childish" you've suppressed. Having a passion isn't like being chosen by the universe to care about something. It's not like love at first sight. Nothing fucking works like that in life. It's always work. It's always a choice you have to make, because no one else will give it to you. But there can be hints that you can follow, sometimes.

[lokisrealpurpous]

cramps

loki x reader with endometriosis

warnings: mention of blood, mentions of periods, extremely bad period pain.

lokis fiancé has always struggled with her endometriosis, the pain leading her every month to passing out, throwing up or sometimes even in hospital and he dreaded knowing there was nothing he could do, but he finds a way.

this is for all my endometriosis girlies , as someone who has it themselves I wish it was spoke about more and that doctors didn't neglet it so much, getting forced to go on the pill and never given a remedy since 10yrs old is a horrible experience. My heart goes out to you all. If you'd like more like this, maybe small headshots of him looking after you in hospital or how he reacts when you faint, then please send requests or comment x

Loki's pov

I had arrived late from the mission I had so desperately been trying to get back from after seeing the 4 missed calls and 18 text messages left from my fiancé. I couldn't check the messages, being in a jet so high up there was only little WiFi, which was all being used by stark, so I sat in the back anxiously, merely muttering a word as i begged the trusted gods above me to keep her safe before I get to her.

I knocked gently before bursting into our bedroom, I was frantic and worried, adrenaline rushing through my veins before I stilled, seeing her lay on the bed, curled around a hot water bottle. Her face was flushed red, and her teeth were gritted. Her hair was a mess, and the blankets her tangled around her. The pill bottle on the side was empty, and the sickbowl on the other was not.

"heya dove..."

I whisper, slowly coming up beside the bed, pulling down some of the blanket that covered her pale but flustered face teasingly before sitting beside her, bringing her weak form in my arms and kissing her forehead.

"is it your cramps?"

I whisper again, running my hands through her knotted hair, untangling it gently.

She nods slowly against my chest, finally looking up at me so I could see her entire face. It was tearburnt and swollen.

"Oh darling..."

I take her face in my hands, rubbing her cheek softly with my thumb. I lift her up, bringing her further into my lap and wrapping my arms around her waist as they find her lower abdomen, I massage the area gently while kissing her neck.

"This good?"

I mumble and she nods again, leaning against my chest. I felt the guilt twist in my stomach that I wasn't able to get here earlier during her flare up, I was proud she managed to find her medication and get herself a sickness bowl, but the thought of her having to do all that while in absolute agony, then to be sick without me to hold her hair and rub her stomach, i never wanted to leave her side again.

"I was fine."

I hear her croak out.

"I don't always need my knight in shining armour my love, I know how to take care of myself."

I let a sigh of relief before kissing her neck, still massaging her lower stomach.

"I know princess, I just worry."

She chuckles, turning her head up to kiss my lips, then laying between my legs, her head resting on my chest, humming as I eased the tension in her belly.

It didn't take long for her fall asleep on top of me, and not long for myself either once switching off the crystal lamp beside us.

your pov 2:27am

I sat up, taking in the shadows of darkness that surrounded me as I reached across my lover's body to turn on the bedside lamp.

my hand flies to my mouth as I let out a groan of pain, not at all wanting to wake loki up, then slipping out of his embrace towards the bathroom until I realised the sheets and my brand new baby-pink nightgown.

'shit shit shit'

I mutter, stood in the middle of the dimly lit room, clutching onto my stomach as tears begin to well in my eyes.

I cover my mouth with both my hands now, pressing hard to stop the sobs escaping. The pain was unbearable as I held onto my dresser, my new gown and sheets were stained crimson, loki layed right next to the mess on our mattress, I had no medication left and I would not make it down the stairs to make myself a bottle.

wake him up.

I kept telling myself, but I couldn't bring myself to do so.

Before I could act upon a single thought, however, a wave of nausea crashed over me as the pain stabbed at my stomach, feeling as if my uterus was collapsing in on itself. I desperately ran to the toilet, holding onto the seat and puking into the bowl. My stomach churned and tightened as I gagged.. another meal rising up my throat.

Every spiralling worry stopped when I felt his hands run through my hair, pulling it out my face and using the band that was in just in his hair to tie mine in a tight ponytail.

He knelt beside me, rubbing my back and whispering things I couldn't make sense of at the moment with the pain still cursing me.

"Loki..."

I sob, gagging over the toilet but not being sick.

He continued rubbing, kissing my head and making sure I'm sat comftable, I didn't even realise how he had put me in his lap.

"nghh.."

I groan, holding onto my stomach, my hands gripping and the area and pulling and pushing, I didn't know what I was doing but I just wanted the pain off... I couldn't bare it...

"Lokiiiiii"

I groan again, my voice strained in pain.

"P...please"

My voice cracks, tears spilling down my cheeks. Once he realised my scratching hands, he pulled them away slowly, replacing them with his own and massaging again.

I let out a whimper of pain.

"Shhh shh shh... trust me my darling, just relax"

He coos, rocking me side to side in his arms.

My eyes suddenly widen as I feel his palms heat up to the perfect temputure as he continues kneeding my skin.

I whine, leaning against him, the pain fading with every movement of his huge hands that now had mine wrapped around them. He dosent stop, just whispering words of affirmation in my ears and swaying me with himself as my eyes began to flutter shut, my body finally feeling at ease and calm.

"That's it..."

I hear him whisper as he lifts me in his arms, hands still on my belly..

"You're okay love, ive got you"

He says as he lies me in a bed, the sheets changed and fresh, and a new nightgown dressing my body with the flash of a small green light.

How he does it I will never know but I do know that him, and his mother's parenting, will always be there to guide me through terrible nights like this.

"I love you Lo..." I whisper as I feel my body sink into the mattress and a kiss on my lips, large arms wrapping around my waist.

"I love you more, my darling.."

He replies with another kiss, then turns the lamp off, keeping his hands on my abdomen throughout the early morning till dawn.

[sinsatmidnight]

30 Years Later

Pairing – Kim Minji (JiU) x Male Reader

Words - 3101

Sins – Smut, oral, sumata, shower sex

So...it's been a while. I have not been keeping up with what goes on Tumblr, I have to admit, and nor have I read any (most? I may have read a couple during this period) of the many stories that people have started after I stopped. I'm inevitably rusty, but I had this draft I started a long while back that I somehow got into the mood to finish, so I figured I may as well post it, just for fun. Maybe someone will enjoy it. Hopefully you like it if you read it! And no, I don't expect a significant uptick in activity from me, but I may pay more attention to some of the other stories being written. Working on this was not quite the healthiest thing (because uh, I may have overused a certain part of my body the last couple of days) and let's just say one of the reasons I'm posting this is because it already had a significant bit written. But I kinda wanna subject myself to more of this...abuse(?) now. Ugh I'm rambling, but anyways, hope everyone has a good day (or night)!

(2130 hours, 20 September 2220, Eternity)

It started out muffled. The droning sound breaking into your consciousness, jolting it to life. You have no idea what it is. Or where you are, for that matter. Your eyes are closed. But your ears are sharper now that your mind is actively concentrating on listening.

A voice. Female. You can’t make out words but she sounds calm. And then your eyes slowly open, almost as though forced open by an outside force. That’s when you remember.

“Condition is stable, consciousness gained, cryo pods are opening.” That calm, droning female voice comes through clear to you now. There is a soft hiss as the transparent door of your cryo pod slides to the side. The light outside your pod is quite soft, and yet at the moment to your eyes, it is blinding. Disoriented by your awakening, you lay in the gel bed as you try to get your bearings.

“Eden? Status update…oh, and what is the current date and time?”

The ship’s AI, Eden, responds in the electronically generated calm tone that all shipboard Ais use. “Welcome back, Commander. All of the Eternity’s systems are currently running optimally. All crew members are in good health. It is currently 2130 hours, 20 September 2220.”

Your mind does the math easily despite just coming back from the induced cryo-sleep. Thirty years. Well, that would be right. Crew members were supposed to be woken up after thirty years to run manual checks on the ship’s condition and look over all data collected automatically by ship sensors and the AI. They stay up for two weeks and then go back into cryo-sleep. And after the first thirty years, this is repeated every five years.

Your mind remembers that crew members aren’t woken up alone, they’re normally woken up in pairs as an additional safety measure. One person who can handle technical or mechanical issues on the ship, which in this case is you, and one more person who is medically trained to check on the sleeping crew and in case of medical emergency.

Your gel bed is softening; rapidly melting as you defrost and becoming less of a gel and more of a slime. A marvel of human technological ingenuity; the clear gel froze quickly, was non-toxic in case of accidental ingestion, while also serving as a shock-absorbent and anti-bacterial bed for cryo-sleep.

You need to get out and check who else was awakened with you. As your hands reach and hold on to the sides of the pod, you realise that you have an erection. Your mind immediately jumps back thirty years prior, to the minutes right before the crew enter cryo-sleep. It might have been from thirty years ago, but those are your last waking memories and they feel like just minutes ago instead.

You remember undressing before you enter your cryo pod; cryo-sleep has to be done naked and trying to unpeel clothing frozen to a person for years is painful. And that was when your eyes caught sight of the occupant of the pod opposite you.

With long dark hair and incredibly kissable lips, combat medic Kim Minji drew attention wherever she went. She was tall, gorgeous and had a body that drew a reaction from your own. As you watched her unzip her white bodysuit and slip out of it, stripping off her underwear and getting naked, you felt the blood rush to your penis and you were glad that she was too preoccupied with her own cryo-sleep preparations to look over at you. You ended up getting frozen before your erection could soften.

Back in the present, another female voice that definitely wasn’t Eden’s cuts into your thoughts. “You’ve had that for thirty years, Commander?’

As you stumble out of the pod, the melting gel dripping all over the floor, your eyes immediately catch sight of Kim Minji’s naked body standing outside her pod, the clear slime dripping off her body and giving it a shimmering sheen under the soft white lights of the cryo chamber. You quickly realise two things: that Kim Minji is your medically trained partner that you’re going to be alone with for the next two weeks and that your erection won’t be going down anytime soon despite your embarrassment at getting caught. You technically outrank her, but that doesn’t matter when there’s just two people awake on the ship.

Minji’s gaze is fixed upon your groin and very obvious erection and a smirk plays on her red lips. “Oh, Minji, I-“

Before you can think of an excuse, Minji cuts in. “Thanks for the compliment, I guess. I’ve never had a guy have a boner for me for that long.”

You smile sheepishly and try to change the subject. “Let’s go wash up before we start work.” At the far end of the cryo chamber was the doorway to another smaller room. A shower chamber with a row of showerheads which to wash off the slime with warm water before you got dressed. There were no partitions, they didn’t bother with them, given that everyone is naked in the cryo chamber anyway. And anyone outside the showers can see into them, given that the walls and doors are made of transparent shatter-proof glass.

You drip clear slime onto the silvery metallic floor beneath your bare feet and the metal doesn’t feel cool to your touch, but given that you were completely frozen minutes ago, that’s understandable. The two of you make your way towards the shower chamber, walking past the other cryo pods which stand up at 45-degree angles, glancing at the naked bodies of other crew members stored in cryo-sleep within them. The water from the shower feels warm to you, a nice comfortable temperature. Minji is next to you, the water flowing over her naked and fit body. It's not helping your erection. Her voice cuts into your thoughts. "I can feel some slime on my back still, could you help me scrub it off?" You hesitate for a moment but then your hand reaches forward and runs over her smooth back, swiping the slime off. You feel Minji's body shiver at your touch, and she lets out a soft moan.

You are sure that your erection is pointing straight up now. Not that it wasn't before, but this situation is just prolonging it.

"Oh, that's nice. Can you do it a little lower, please?" She asks, and your hands move further down. Your hands are caressing her pert ass now, the soap lather coating it and making it feel smooth. Minji is letting out soft moans and you are enjoying touching her. As you wash her ass, your fingers stray between her legs, rubbing against her dripping vaginal folds. She is wet and it is not the water causing this.

"You're doing a great job, Commander. But there's a lot more I need you to wash for me." You turn her around so that she is facing you. You look into her eyes and she is biting her lower lip. Minji has a perfect pair of breasts, firm but soft and a nice handful. They are covered with soap lather now and you find your hands moving forward to massage her tits. You pinch her pink nipples, feeling her tremble as you touch her. Minji leans into you, her wet body pressing against yours. She feels hot to the touch, as though her temperature has gone up.

"Look, I really feel like I should help you with that boner of yours." Minji whispers breathily. "Can I do that for you, Commander?" She has already reached down and taken your hard length in her hand, her thumb rubbing the head of your cock, spreading the precum that had gathered. She gives your cock a gentle tug, and it takes all of your willpower to not cum on her right then and there.

"Fuck, Minji, that's- that's fine." You let out an odd mix of strangled gasp that ends in a muttered assurance, as her soft hand continues to firmly stroke your erection.

"Thanks, Commander. I appreciate it." Minji presses those incredibly kissable red lips up against yours, and her tongue hungrily comes out to play. You reciprocate, even as your hands are busy continuing to explore her body. Her hands, on the other hand, are one of the most pleasurable experiences you’ve ever had as your wet cock is deftly and smoothly pumped and stroked.

With a wink, Minji drops to her knees, the water from the showerhead splashing her face and wetting her long hair. She presses her tits together and wraps them around your throbbing shaft.

It feels good and your body instinctively thrusts forward, your hips rocking back and forth, fucking her breasts. Your balls are tensing up, and you can tell you aren't going to last long. It is smooth and slick between her breasts and the tip of your cock is rubbing up against her lips with her tongue comes out to tease the tip. Your eyes stare at her as she looks back at you and with a smirk, Minji parts her lips, taking the head of your cock into her mouth.

The tip of her tongue swirls around the sensitive head, licking up the precum that continues to leak. Then, she starts bobbing her head forward and back, taking more and more of your shaft into her mouth, eventually releasing your cock from between her tits. Minji hums contentedly as she sucks and swallows your cock, and her hand is wrapped around the base, pumping you in time with the movements of her head. Minji’s other hand has drifted between her legs, and she starts to furiously masturbate as she blows you. Her slender fingers plunge in and out of her leaking vagina as she keeps her thumb vigorously rubbing her engorged clit.

As you lock eyes with the gorgeous medic on her knees in front of you, she gives you a sultry look, her lustful eyes peering into yours as she sucks you off. Minji’s expert tongue swirling around your shaft and the vibrations of her moans as she takes your dick deep into her throat very quickly becomes too much for you. Your hands need to grab something, to get control.

Your fingers run through her long hair and roughly grab hold of her head, pulling her towards you as you thrust into her mouth hard. You hear her gag a little, but she doesn’t stop with her movement. You feel the pressure building up, and your hips are moving of their own accord. Your cock is hitting the back of her throat, and your balls are tightening.

With a moan, you cum in her mouth. Thick spurts of cum erupt from your dick and fill her throat. She swallows it all, and stands up, licking those red lips. "That was tasty. It’s not every day you get to taste cum stored up for thirty years."

You barely register her words, breathing heavily. That was the most intense orgasm of your life. Your cock is still hard, but Minji is seemingly satisfied. For now.

Or maybe not. She steps away from you, and turns around, bending over. Her shapely ass is facing you, and her pussy is glistening. She looks back at you and wiggles her hips. "Can you help me clean down here too, please?"

You can't refuse Minji’s request. You have to return the favour, after all. You move towards her and rub her pussy. It is dripping wet, and her juices are flowing freely. You stick a finger inside her and feel her walls clench around it. She lets out a gasp, and pushes her hips back, as if wanting more.

"Oh, I really need it, Commander." She pants, as you continue to finger her. You pull out, and she lets out a groan. "Why did you stop?"

"Just making sure you're ready for me." You reply as you give her pert ass a quick spank, drawing a low moan from the medic. You position your cock at her entrance and push inside her.

She gasps and whimpers as you enter, and you feel her pussy walls tighten around your shaft. You start to thrust into Minji’s soaked pussy, and she groans while pushing her hips back to meet your thrusts. You grab her hips and pull her closer, helping her out in an attempt to get ever deeper inside her. She cries out in pleasure, as you fuck her as hard and fast as you.

It doesn’t take long before you are getting close to climax, and she is too. You can feel her walls tightening around your shaft, and her breathing is getting faster. You grip her hips tightly and pound her harder.

"Commander!" She moans, as she orgasms. Her juices flow over your cock, and you can't hold back any longer. You pull out of her and explode all over her ass and back, creating a sticky mess there. And then you plop down on the ground, all this exertion so soon after coming out of cryo-sleep has taken a lot out of you.

You both pant, catching your breath. Minji crawls over and kisses you deeply. "Thanks, Commander. I can't wait to work with you for the next two weeks." You can only nod breathlessly in response, your tongue wrestling with hers. Minji breaks the kiss and stands up, with her back to you. “Well, going to need your help with this mess here. Your fault, so you clean it up, sir.” Your gaze goes over her cum-glazed skin and you stand up to grab a sponge from the side of the room, lathering it up with some body wash from a dispenser. You start to work on cleaning her up, using the sponge to get your semen off her skin. But Minji is inherently distracting. It is clear whenever you touch her that she is affected by it. You hear some sighs of pleasure, even the occasional whine when your hands leave her.

This inevitably affects you and you are somehow hardening again down below. You make a split-second decision and suddenly press Minji's wet body up against the wall. You swiftly follow that up by sliding your semi-erect dick in between her soaked creamy thighs. You start to thrust in between her thighs, making sure that you brush against her pussy fold throughout.

"Oh, you're naughty, sir." Minji pants lustfully. You can feel the warmth of her vagina radiating through your thrusting member. You are quickly erect once more. This feels even better than her sucking and giving you a titfuck. "How is this, Minji?" You whisper into her ear.

"Fuck, Commander. That's… that's really good. Really, really good." She whimpers breathily, her body pushed up against the transparent wall, tits first. Your cock continues to slide between her thighs, teasing her pussy. You are both covered in soapy suds, the water from the shower spraying and splashing on the both of you. Her skin feels silky smooth and slippery to the touch. With each thrust, her ass and thighs clap loudly. You reach forward and fondle her tits, her nipples hardening and her breathing quickening. You keep thrusting, enjoying the feeling of her soapy thighs wrapped around your shaft. Minji is moaning and gasping with each thrust, and her breathing is getting faster.

Her legs are trembling, and her juices are flowing freely, mixing with the soap suds and water. Your balls slap against her clit, and she cries out in pleasure, her whole body shaking. You reach forward and grab her wrists, pinning her to the glass wall. She lets out a moan and arches her back. You kiss her neck and shoulders and continue to fuck her soapy thighs. She is whimpering and moaning with every thrust, and her juices are flowing freely, making her inner thighs and your cock very slick and slippery.

Your thrusting becomes faster and more urgent. Minji is definitely close to climaxing; you hear her moans and whimpers are getting less coherent and more urgent; you’re sure you catch some lust fuelled whining and babbling about wanting your cum and something about being fucked hard. Your cock is slamming against her pussy, and her walls are clenching around it, her juices leaking out. She is breathing heavily, and her legs are trembling.

You release one of her hands and guide it down to her clit, prompting her to start rubbing it furiously. Her fingers are a blur, and her moans become louder and more urgent. You continue to fuck those soaped-up milky thighs of hers, and she is practically screaming in pleasure, her voice echoing off the walls of the shower room. Not that you had to care about anyone hearing you. You did have an odd sort of audience in the rest of the crew outside in cryo-sleep, just beyond the transparent wall you have pressed Minji against.

Your cock is twitching and pulsating, and you can feel the pressure building up. You are both close to that final edge, and the only sounds are your heavy breathing, the splashing water, and the loud clapping sound of her ass and thighs slapping against your cock and balls.

You thrust forcefully into her thighs a few more times, and then you erupt. Your thick, creamy load sprays onto her thighs and the transparent wall, coating them in your semen. Her body shudders, and she cries out, reaching her own climax. Her juices flow over your shaft, and she slumps down, exhausted. You follow suit and collapse next to her. You both lie there for a while, trying to catch your breath. You do catch out of the corner of your eye, that Minji takes a few licks of your cum from the wall.

The two of you eventually manage to finish your shower and dry up, with you eyeing Minji the whole time as she puts that white bodysuit back and zips it back up. She catches your eye, bites her lip, and then smirks naughtily. You’re both relieved and regretful that your cock is worn out and needs rest. That would have brought it back up. You and Minji are both very well aware that you don't actually have much to do over the next couple of weeks, other than the occasional diagnostic check of the ship’s systems and such. The ship’s AI, Eden was there to handle the heavy lifting. And so, you're very much looking forward to the next couple of weeks alone with Minji.

[pekoehoneyncream]

Ghoaptober # 26

Prompt: Blood

Words: 1000

TW: Depiction of Trans Man Having a Period (sfw)

This version of Ghoaptober was created by @spadesandshovels

Crazy to think there's only five more prompts to go. Don't know what I'm gonna do with myself during November.

Enjoy!

“Tav,” Gaz tugged him off to the side, putting their backs to the wall and bending his head in close to murmur into Soap’s ear, “You’re bleeding through your shorts, bro.” 

“Am fuckin’ no’,” Soap snaps, his tone pleading. He twists and pulls his shorts off-centre and sees that Gaz was right, there’s blood seeping through the seat of his pants, “Mary, Jesus, Joseph, an’ the ass that took ‘em all tae Bethlehem, Ah bled through mah fuckin’ trews.”

Untwisting himself, Soap presses his back to the wall again and covers his face with his hands, hiding the mortified blush that he can feel creeping up his neck. 

“S’all good,” Gaz assures, shrugging out of his track jacket and hugging his arms around Soap briefly to securely tie it around his waist, letting the body of it hang down to cover Soap’s ass, “Go change, I can handle the rest of this on my own.” 

“‘hank ye, Ky.” Soap says sincerely, catching Gaz around the waist to pull him into an open one-armed hug, affectionately bonking their heads together. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Gaz plants a hand on Soap’s face and shoves him off, but can’t hide the small pleased smile that’s playing about his mouth, “Ge’ outta here.” 

Soap speeds his way back into the barracks building, walking at a clip that was a jog in everything but name. He would've sprinted, but he couldn’t risk some up jumped prick with something to prove stopping him for a reprimand right now.

Bursting into his bunk, he slammed the door shut and engaged the rarely used lock. He whipped Gaz’s jacket off and frantically searched for any signs that he’s accidentally stained it too. It was blessedly free of any marks and Soap heaves a relieved breath, he’s still going to launder it before giving it back, but if he’d bled on it Gaz would have been getting a whole new jacket. 

He yanks off his shorts and examines the scene of the crime. A small area of the seat and the line of the crotch are soaked with blood, it's thankfully still wet so he grabs a towel and rag he doesn’t care about, then rummages about until he unearths a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. Spreading out the towel he sits himself on one end and drops the shorts on the free space leftover, not bothering to take off the boxers he’s wearing, he already knows there’ll be no saving them. Soap goes about dripping the peroxide over the bloody marks in the fabric, watching it foam and bubble, then daubing off the excess when it stopped reacting. Being careful not to rub and smear around the blood, the skill rusty but not lost to him. When the stain has lifted as much as it's going to, he bundles up the shorts and throws them into the small separate basket of laundry that he keeps for things that needed pretreatments before going through the wash. 

With a sigh Soap heaves himself back onto his feet, then goes to excavate the specialty boxers his older sister had gifted him, they had a detached gusset for pads and a pouch in the front for packers. Emerging triumphant from the back of his drawers, boxers in hand, he tossed them onto his cot and knelt to search its underbelly for his shoebox of menstrual products. Squeezing free the box, he cracks it open to find it well stocked. 

With dust.

Dust and expired Midol. 

Soap drops his head into his hands with a despairing groan. He hasn’t had a bleeding period in over a year, and of course he never restocked from the last one. The feeling of a drop of blood sliding down his thigh coaxes him out of his state of frozen misery, and he does an undignified knee-walk back over to the towel he hadn’t picked up and collapses onto it. 

What the fuck does he do now? He could stuff his undies with a rag and waddle to the commissary, but he really didn’t the schmuck running the cash to question why he was buying pads, nor did he really want to use the dirt cheap pads that the commissary was no doubt stocked with. He could go to a shop off base, but he’d need to sign out and he’d still have to waddle about with rags in his knickers. 

A chime comes from his laundry basket. He hadn’t emptied his fuckin' pockets. 

God damn it all. 

He flops over to the basket and divests the shorts of all his things, dropping everything but his phone carelessly onto his bed to deal with later, then dropping himself back onto his towel. Wishing he could deal with himself later too. 

“On my way” The message from Ghost reads. Gaz had no doubt told him, the helpful little snitch. 

Soap sends back a simple “Okay”.

He contemplates getting something a little more substantial than just his bloody briefs to cover his lower half, but he really doesn’t want to stain anything else today and Ghost has seen him in worse states. 

“Locked” Another message dings in from Ghost.

Tilting his head, Soap can see the break in light that comes in from under his door showing that someone is stood on the other side. How the fuck Ghost knows his door’s locked without jiggling the handle, Soap will never know. 

“Ah didnae give ye tha’ key jus’ tae weigh doon y’ur keyring,” He calls and in the next instant Ghost is inside, with the door securely shut behind him, looming over Soap’s sprawled body.

“Halo, mo chridhe,” Soap offers, not bothering to move. 

“Hey, Johnny,” Ghost rumbles, his voice rosy with affection, “heard you didn’t have the best morning,” 

“Aye,” Soap sighs, “Cannae say Ah did,”

“Would these help?” Ghost reveals a package of the commissary’s shite pads, “I know they’re not great, but it’s a stopgap while we go to the shops for something nicer.” 

“Simon,” Soap says with great seriousness, watching Ghost's eyes widen, “Ah love ye.”

Ghost’s eyes relax and crinkle into a smile, “Love you too, Johnny.”

Thank You For Reading!

I don't know if y'all know, but I do take prompts and requests, feel free to shout into my ask box. I'd love to hear from you!

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