#if you make any excuses for these GROWN ASS MEN

[testing-tranquility]

also btw if ur still here and u STILL support any of the Dteam u are NOT welcome here at all, go back to the circus or something

[dxxdhood]

drains me slowly

pairing: wade wilson x gn!reader

summary: deadpool finally invites you, the coworker he has a massive crush on, over, which means the two of you end up doing more than just watching a movie.

tags: smut (18+), sub!wade wilson, dom!reader, pain kink, use of superpowers to fuel a pain kink, light masochism, teasing, gentle dom, hand job, scratching, body worship

wc: 3.3k

a/n: fic inspired by the new deadpool movie coming out!!! also, title is from love me dead by ludo.

No surprise that Wade wasn’t exactly anyone’s favorite– that goes for among the heroes he’s worked with and throughout his life in general. He’s – to put it in the kindest way anyone’s ever told him – fucking annoying. Oh, he’s more than aware that he’s a little too out-of-pocket, abrasive, impulsive– a nightmare to interact with, really. And those were just the recent comments made by the closest thing he has to coworkers! The shit he heard from people growing up was leagues worse. 

Look, having a rough start in life isn’t uncommon and he’s sure as hell not gonna get the tiny violin out for himself and throw his own little pity party, but he’s grown enough since his healing factor got beat out of him to acknowledge that he’s had it tough over the years.

He’s still going, though! Yeah, he may not always be the best at doing his laundry quick enough to get any clean clothes to wear, or at stopping his room from becoming cluttered with too many half-empty water bottles, but he’s still making it by, day by day.

But, well, it’s still really hard to constantly put himself out there, get assigned – or infinitely more likely, just shove himself into – whatever jobs or missions he feels like taking on when everyone treats him like Jar Jar Binks.

That was until you came along. So, obviously you’re crazy hot – he’s gotta get that out of the way first – but more than that, you were confident. Competent, too, and those rarely coincide in Wade’s experience. You mostly worked on call, joining the occasional mission, battle, or investigation because your mutant powers came in handy often, but you also still kept up with your day job. Honestly, Wade thinks the reason why you weren’t always present in fights was to stop the other mutants from being out of a job. Your ability to slowly deteriorate surrounding biological tissue, while horrifying and a pain in the ass to control – your words – was basically winning on easy mode.

But no, you were adamant about keeping your involvement with the X-Men infrequent– only joining when your presence was absolutely necessary. Apparently nonstop high stress situations aren't good for your mental health– who knew?

And he wants to pretend he became obsessed with you because of all those things, and of course they helped, but really, you had him at hello. Or well, you bothering to say hello and actually talk to him in the first place, to ask him questions about his life in moments of downtime where usually he’d be left with an unenthusiastic audience instead of a warm-hearted listener who actually laughed at his jokes.

So, of course, he has to go and fuck it up.

…

“So, glad that’s over, huh?” Wade says through a smile, the whites of his mask squeezing as his cheeks rise. “Speaking of over, you wanna come?”

“Over?” you shake your head a little, flashing your teeth as you try and comprehend him. “Right after we took on a whole crime ring?”

“Well, what a better time to unwind, am I right?”

“Oh?” you raise your eyebrows. “We’re unwinding?”

It’s small, but you swear Wade ups his talking speed, “Well, yeah, you know. Watch a movie, order in, show you my Pokemon cards, the works.”

You hum, pretending to consider it, “Depends, you got a holo Charizard?”

And now, for sure, he exhales his relief. “You insult me.”

The two of you enter his apartment not long after you’re dismissed from the mission, and Wade briefly excuses himself to change out of his suit. Making yourself at home, you take a seat on the couch and glance across his living room. His apartment is surprisingly nice. The kitchen and living room are one large, open space with a sleek, modern design. Also, you’d assume someone as chaotic as Wade would keep their house in a messier state, or hell, at least a little dusty, but the living room is spotless. Maybe he cleaned recently? What, was he planning on inviting someone over?

Snorting as you shake your head, a small click from across the hall catches your attention.

You’ve only seen Wade on the job, so naturally he’s always been wearing his red suit, but for some reason, you never stopped to picture him wearing civilian clothes. Actually, now that you’re seeing him in a sweatshirt and sweatpants – awfully warm for this weather – you’re struggling to reconcile the image of him you had in your head with the person right in front of you.

Well, at least until Wade brings up a fist to cover his mouth, illustrating his nervousness, and the tension fizzles out. Only Wade has body language that cartoonishly exaggerated.

“Nice sweats, green looks good on you.”

Wade pauses for a moment, registering your words before he giggles softly, arm falling to his side, “I’ve been thinking about changing the color of my suit. You know, hiding all the blood is great and all, but sometimes I gotta wonder – could this thing be more flattering?”

He walks over with a spring in his step before sitting by your side. Cutely, he wraps you up in the larger blanket first before settling the smaller, throw blanket over himself. You try your hardest not to show your confusion outwardly, but seeing Wade up close now has you questioning his outfit all the more.

He’s a bit tall, so the sweatpants don’t go all the way down to his ankles, but Wade’s wearing calf socks, as if he specifically were trying to avoid them being uncovered. Also, his hoodie’s easily a size or two larger, which makes it the perfect thing to wear to lounge around and watch a movie in, but also, the sleeves cover his entire hand sans his fingers. From the little you can see of them, they look puckered in scars.

But obviously Wade’s hands are scarred– he’s a mercenary. He’s handled all sorts of weapons and been in hundreds of fights over the years. You weren’t expecting his skin to be baby-smooth. 

What’s interesting to you is why he’d go through all the trouble to hide it.

Also, yeah, the most obvious pointers were that the hood of his sweatshirt is up even though you two are indoors in his own home and – how could you forget this one – his Deadpool mask is still on.

Was he just uncomfortable with sharing his identity in general or was he specifically trying to shove distance between the two of you? Whatever, if he doesn’t want to take his mask off with you, he doesn’t have to. You feel a distinct pang in your chest, but you try not to let it color how you respond to him. He’s more than in the right to only share what he feels most comfortable with.

Wade’s been fiddling with the remote while you’ve been – hopefully – subtly looking him over, and the screen finally changes from a streaming service page to the opening of the movie.

“We’re watching The Princess Bride? I didn’t take you for a romantic.”

He bats his eyes – at least, you think he does, given the mask– and speaks in a sweet voice “Why, me? Oh please, I know romance. I’m not going to invite a lovely, gorgeous, incredible person over and force them to watch Die Hard on the first–”

His back straightens out like he’s been electrocuted before he forcibly relaxes his posture to finish his thought.

“Hang-out.”

Okay, you want to go easy on him, especially because he seems so tense, but you can’t just let that one slide. You close the small distance remaining between the two of you, causing your entire side to press against his. Even through his sweatshirt, you can feel how warm he is.

“Mmm, just a hang out?” you mumble, sliding your head onto his shoulder. You’ve done this before, either for comedic effect or just in an attempt to push his buttons the same way he always tries to push yours – which, despite his best efforts, always ends up endearing him to you instead of bothering you – but never in a context like this.

He inhales sharply, and you count the seconds until he finally lets himself release it. Sometimes, you think he takes his healing factor for granted.

Turning his head to peer down at you, Wade considers you for a moment, keeping his face and body language deceptively neutral. You try your hardest to keep your eyes focused on the movie and your body loose and comfortable.

“You want this to be a date?” he says, flat.

“Why, thank you for asking, dear sir,” you copy his sweet voice from earlier before returning to your normal. “Yes, Wade, I like you.”

“I–” he starts, but the words get caught on their way out. His fingers bury themselves in the material of his sweatpants, and the movement draws your attention to them again. Shades of blotchy red and pink curve all across his skin.

Wade doesn’t say anything, which is concerning enough on its own, but following your confession, you feel like he’s more than out of his element. 

“That’s why you invited me over, right?” you try and help him out. “You feel the same, too.”

And then, feeling bold, you turn your head to face his still mask-covered head and kiss him lightly on the cheek. Instantly, you see fireworks go off inside him, because Wade hurriedly shuts the TV off and runs off to close the blinds. There’s barely enough light in the room now to make out shapes, but apparently Wade doesn’t take any issue because he peels his mask back and kisses you on the lips.

His lips are textured, and your intuition flashes quietly in the back of your mind, but for right now, you focus on how energetic he is. If his body is warm, his mouth feels like it’s on fire. He’s constantly moving, trying to experience all of you as fast as possible. 

It’s making your face heat up, how quickly he demands your complete attention and how relentless he is in grabbing it. Wade bites your bottom lip, causing you to gasp into him, and he uses the opportunity to explore across your own teeth and tongue. After a few more seconds, you break away, needing the space to breathe.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, voice rough.

“You’re telling me,” Wade coughs out. “We could’ve been doing that this whole time?”

“Well, all you had to do was ask.”

And although you can’t see him, which you know is the point, you understand something in him has shifted. He gets up from the couch, takes you by the hand, and leads you towards his room. His pace is so quick, you barely comprehend his actions until you’re both standing right in front of his bed.

“Is this okay?” he asks, quiet. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him stifle the amount of words he let loose before.

“Yes, of course it is. But Wade, we have to turn on at least a lamp or something in here.”

“We do?”

“Yeah,” you pause to give him a second to think. “I can’t see you at all like this.”

“What if – and you're just going to have to trust me on this one – you’d prefer it this way,” Wade’s voice is light, but it feels like it’s cracking at the edges.

“And why’s that?”

Not like you’d be able to see, but the anxiety radiating off of him makes him sound wide-eyed, “Huh? Oh, I– uh…”

“Look, if you’re worried about how I’m going to react to you having a bunch of scars– don’t. I don’t mind,” the sound of fabric rustling in front of you makes you think he just flinched. “I figured it out. You’re not sneaky.”

“You say that, but…”

“Wade, I don’t care. And I mean that kindly! Really, it doesn’t bother me.”

Wade starts pacing in front of you, nearly tripping on the leg of the bedpost, “Look, I appreciate the whole hero act you got going on here – really fits you good, you should totally quit your day job – but you don’t have to force yourself, I–”

“Wade, you either confront your insecurities head on or I’m not doing this with you. I told you what I think, the only person who’s going to worry about how you look here is you. We either have sex with a light on or not at all, okay?”

No one speaks for a few seconds once you finish saying your piece, and you cringe, realizing how forceful you must have come off. You’re about to speak up again to apologize when you hear a shudder-filled exhale from a few feet away.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he groans. “You’re so hot when you're putting people in their place.”

Your lips curl into a shaky smile, “Yeah, what else do you think is hot?”

And you can practically hear the gears turning in his head from here.

…

It’s actually happening. No fucking way he didn’t dream this up. But you were pretty adamant about him getting his head in the game in order for you guys to actually get down and dirty, so for you, he tries to keep his train of thought as focused as possible–  a big ask.

“Bossing anyone – everyone, especially me – around. You using your abilities–” you reach over and find Wade’s hand before running your fingers up his arm. “Shit, umm, using your abilities in general, but, umm, I really like when I’m there.”

“Oh?” you giggle. “When you get to watch, or?”

“When I get to feel.”

Your hand moves over to the nape of his neck, reaching under his hood and mask, to rub at his rough skin. Wade’s nerves light on fire as he waits for you to respond– for some reason, it never feels like your words come out fast enough.

“You got a thing for pain, Wilson?”

He chuckles, “You’d be surprised.”

“Okay, but are you sure? I can try, but it might not be all that good for you.”

“Don’t worry,” he thinks back to all those times he had a hard on while the two of you were fighting together. “It’ll be great for me.”

You hum, “Alright, then, but you tell me to stop the second you don’t like something, okay?”

“Aye, aye, captain,” he salutes, though you probably can’t see it. “And, same goes for you.”

“What a gentleman, letting me destroy him and giving me an out.”

He’s blushing something furious and he’s never been more grateful for the dark, “Anything for you.”

Those are the last words he whispers before he begins undressing. He knows you probably meant for him to strip with the light on, but he’s really not so sure he could stomach being looked at like a bug under a microscope. The attention, while electrifying, was already starting to get to him, so he lets himself stay in his comfort zone a little longer. As a treat. 

Once his sweats are off, he hesitantly peels off his mask before slipping into bed, keeping most of his body under the covers. After shutting his eyes, he clicks the lamplight on.

You’re not saying anything. That’s– a sign? A good one, a bad one, Wade doesn’t know. He’s trying so hard to keep his breathing steady, but he can feel his body start shaking all on its own.

You join him on the bed, kneeling next to him, before your warm breath falls across his cheeks as you kiss his forehead. Only then does he open his eyes, and you reward him by cupping his cheek in your hand.

“There,” you say. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Wade gets the strong urge to snort, and so he does, but your eyes narrow. There’s a soft scratching at the back of his skull as you snake your hand over, and quickly you dig your nails in slightly. Wade has to bite his tongue to keep the noise in.

“I’m sorry, is that funny to you?”

“No!” he whispers sharply as you bring your hand down to scratch along the line of his neck.

“Good, seems like you’re learning.”

You kiss him, teeth clacking together at first before Wade melts into it. Your hand is still slowly exploring his body, running along the line of his shoulder and towards his upper arm. When you reach his bicep, you very obviously squeeze the muscle there, and you let out a pleased sigh as you begin groping in earnest.

He wants to turn to hide his face in the pillow, not sure how to react to all the positive attention and appreciation, but you catch him trying to turn away, and you kiss him deeper.

While one hand begins to explore his pecs and abs, your other hand scratches down his v-line, softly caressing the skin of his inner thighs before moving around to squeeze his ass.

Wade rewards you with a small whine, and you carefully trail a finger down his dick. You move in to whisper in his ear, “You’re so hot, I’m not forgiving you for hiding for so long.”

Trying to stifle the embarrassing moan that he knows will come out, he bites down on his lip hard, but you take the hand not teasing his cock to gently pry his lip away.

“From now on, I get to hear you, okay?” you say and Wade nods rapidly.

You take the moment you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, and after giving him a second to ready himself, you ask, “I’m going to use it now. Tell me if you want to stop.”

“Okay–” he responds before he feels the sweet sensation of you jerking him off coupled with your power. It’s a humming, dull feeling of pain resting in the background– almost like the sensation of being choked except it’s affecting his entire body. Wade feels like there’s a weight pinning down each of his limbs and it’s so freeing– so relaxing.

He sighs and turns his head to the side, letting out a deep moan when you up the pace of your hand and bring the other to fondle his balls.

“How is it?” you ask, sweat dripping down your brow at trying to control your ability. Sure, it’s  powerful and at times pretty horrifying, but Wade always loved how he was essentially immune. At the same rate you could destroy the flesh around you, he could heal his own right back. Just knowing that made him feel good, somehow, like he was made perfectly for you.

“It’s good– so good, I–” he nearly shouts, forgetting about the neighbors.

“Yeah, baby? What do you need?”

At hearing the pet name, he straight up whines as he tries to bury his hands in the sheets instead of his own thighs. 

“Not sure, umm, a little more–”

And he doesn’t know which god he has to thank for putting you on this planet, but he’s willing to pay them all a visit. You read him like he’s not some mess, some walking disaster nobody bothers paying attention to, and you give him what you know he needs.

From the base of his chin, you drag your hand in a deep scratch across his neck, chest, and stomach, your eyes watching the pink lines blend in with his scarred skin. It’s a flashing pain, sharp like being scalded and it feels so good mixed with the blunt feel of being under your power.

“I’m gonna–” he says, and of course, you seem to already know. He cums with a deep grunt, rutting his hips into your fist before he thrusts his head forward to kiss you again.

As soon as he comes down, he pulls away only slightly, just so he can say what he’s been wanting to say since he met you.

“Thank–”

You cut him off with another kiss, because sometimes, he really does need to shut up. 

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Temporary Fix! || skirt chaser!Johnny

Rating: E Words: 4.1K~ CW: smut smut smut, a bit of BAD dirty talking, oral sex (m!receiving), protected piv sex, breath play (if you squint), praise kink (lots of 'that's it' + 1 'good girl'). Tags: afab!reader, fat/chubby!reader, you/your pronouns, one-night stand but more like one-week stand. Summary: Johnny's a dog who can't keep it in his pants. a/n: this is for my chubby gals and also for my @crashtestbunny because I wanted her to be able to read this and not have the previous cheating plot in place.

The thing about soldiers… Is that they tend to have lovers. As in, for as long as they stay deployed in a country, they’re bound to get themselves a toy they can have a shag with. Sometimes it’s prostitutes. Sometimes it’s regular women.

This is a lot more common for enlisted soldiers in the Army. The types that get deployed for 9 to 18 months at a time when they're very young, fighting in a war that keeps them far away from home for so long that they “can’t help” but seek affection from local women.

But that’s not to mean Special Forces soldiers, especially those kept on ‘stand by’, always ready for a quick deployment that, at most, lasts a month or two, don’t do it. They do.

John Alistair MacTavish is a grown man, not one of those young lads of 18, recently out basic, who need a whole to bury their cock in or else they'll die. But you wouldn’t think that, seeing as he's constantly seeking out action on the side.

He goes on and on about how childish those stupid recruits are, about some of his old mates who'd shag anything that walks... Only to then leave base with his team to end up at some bar or club in civvy clothes, find a nice bird or bloke (he’s not picky) and go home with them.

A hypocrite, any normal person would call him, a womanizer, a skirt chaser, a player... He’s not above calling himself that. But sometimes he just needs to decompress! That's his excuse anyway. Decompressing. Letting out pent-up aggression. Orgasms are great stress-relievers...

And as useful as his fist is, he’s not a sixteen-year-old anymore, rubbing one out in his bathroom during a quick shower. That just doesn’t cut it anymore. If he has the option to shag someone, why wouldn’t he?

Now that he’s in the 141, the philandering just gets much worse. Whenever they have downtime on a foreign location somewhere, a night free before they return to England, or a night before they get the go-ahead to go on a mission, what have you… He’s out getting himself a shag.

And, worse of all, he brings Gaz along. 

Gaz doesn’t have the same issue, unlike Johnny, he can actually contain himself. Maybe that makes Gaz a bit bad too, because he knows that Soap has a tendency to chase like they owe him money... And he still enables him. He still goes out with his mate and they both get wasted and laid without a care. 

Maybe Gaz doesn’t think it’s his place to intervene, or maybe he just doesn’t care enough to.

Camaraderie and all.

That’s how they ended up in a club downtown, flashing lights all around them, loud reggaeton playing through the speakers, men and women around them with more skin on display than they had covered rubbing their bodies, sipping drinks, spilling them over each other… Oh, the wonders of a Colombian night club.

They saw you before you saw them. Kyle tapping at Johnny’s shoulder as their eyes perused the space individually, then, he drew the Scot’s eyes to you, standing with your friends, laughing, drinking, softly swaying to the music. 

Soft curves in a copper-colored dress that left little to the imagination, clinging tight to a round ass and a thick belly, the hem constantly pulled down by your hands, as it insisted on rolling up, up, up, exposing more of your smooth thighs than you wanted it to. 

It didn’t stop you from still rolling your hips to the music, however, turning the fixing of your dress a near impossible task, repetitive, useless, and maddening, Sisyphus-and-his-stone.

Turning to each other, the two sergeants hands shot to the middle of their bodies, a quick rock-paper-scissors ensuing… which Johnny won.

And that’s how you ended up turning around to the sight of a foreigner with the broadest shoulders, thickest arms and pecs, and bluest eyes you’ve ever seen… As well as a mohawk, something you didn’t often see on… anyone, really.

He was a soldier, you could tell, even out of uniform. Not your first time seeing one, this being a city with a military base attached, and certainly not your last time being approached by one.

Oh, how soldiers seem to love fat women. You’ve experienced your fair few, many of them assuming your weight would equal desperation for love and affection, which would result in you accepting a rushed wedding for the sole purpose of getting him out of the barracks. 

But you’re not desperate. Other than for a good lay, maybe.

“Erm… Hola.” The soldier in front of you says, blue eyes locked on your face for a surprisingly respectful amount of time considering the sinful cleavage that this dress and your bra give you. 

His Spanish has the thickest accent you’ve ever heard, meaning he’s not American… But his pronunciation is off, so he’s clearly an English speaker. Though he’s not English either, you can tell.

“I speak English. Hi.” You told him, watching as he let out a little sigh of relief. Then, the corner of his mouth popped up in a dirty little smirk. 

“Well, tha’ makes it easier. Hi.” He replied. “I saw ye from over there… Was wonderin’ if I can buy ye a drink?” He offered. Only then did he allow his blue eyes to slither down, down, down, trailing every inch of your exposed skin down to the black ankle booties you’re wearing, thick, square heels to prevent your hamstrings from feeling the pain of stilettos the next morning.

“Why?” You decided to ask him with a cocked brow, forcing his eyes to shoot upward to meet your face again, locking onto yours with a surprised expression.

“Why, what, pretty thing?” He replied, his own brows, thick, straight, rising up to meet his hairline. He’s confused, his eyes blinking a bit. His intentions had been clear as day. Obvious enough for you to pick up on, but you’re playing dumb, or maybe hard to get. 

“Why do you wanna buy me a drink?” You asked him as you dipped your head to the side, your eyes slowly trailing over every inch of his handsome face. Those blue eyes of his are locked on you, pupils slightly dilated, hands hanging off his hips, fingers looped onto the belt loops of his jeans.

“Because you’re proper beautiful.” He replied. Your cocked brow and unimpressed glances up and down, cause him to continue. “And I’d love to take you home, find out what you’ve got on under that dress, and make sure your neighbors hate you from today onward.”

His words are crude, his voice loud and crass, disregarding the public space you’re in, the fact that there are others around, not just your friends, but complete strangers too. Maybe he’s hoping they won’t understand English. But they do. Hell, your girlfriends look at you and exchange coy looks with you, before them, and you, break into a fit of giggles.

He looks at them, noticing they caught what he said, even through the loud music, but then looks at you again. “So? What do you say?” His brogue is getting easier and easier to listen to with every word he says.

Rolling your head to the side, your squint your eyes at him and then shrug. “Do you have to buy me a drink for that?” You challenge him, your eyes snapping back and forth between his own, almost taunting him with your inquiry.

“Not if you don’t want to.” He tells you, eyes lit ablaze and a smirk on his lips.

So, you simply grab him by the arm, bid farewell to your friends, with a wave, and grab your clutch from the table, before dragging him out of the club.

Johnny was expecting a flat, a home, maybe even a university dorm room considering your age. What a surprise it came to him to find you taking him up to a hotel. Not that he’d complain when he noticed the large king-sized bed and the large view, providing a beautiful view of the illuminated city of Cartagena.

His hands were on your broad hips before you even got to closing the door, his mouth clashing onto yours as he pushed you against the wall by the door, calloused hands already sliding over the slinky fabric of your silky dress, tugging it up, so they could slip underneath.

His tongue pushed into your mouth, wet and drooling, saliva traded between your mouths as his strong fingers caught hold of a greedy handful of your ass, digging into the supple flesh and groaning in delight at just the feeling of you at his fingertips.

Your own hands already slid up and around his torso, feeling him up through the fabric of his t-shirt, before sliding down to pull the navy blue fabric out of its tuck into his jeans, rolling it up to expose a strong, bulky body covered in a generous amount of body hair.

Your lips broke apart for a moment, only long enough for you to take off his shirt, tossing it onto an armchair in the corner, and for him to unzip the side-zipper of your dress, taking it off you too.

Then, he grabbed you around the thighs, causing you to shriek, as he bounded for the bed, dropping you so hard onto it you almost swore you’d bounce off. Still wearing his jeans, he slotted himself between your parted thighs, his body bending over yours.

His stubble scratched your neck as he kissed you all over, licking stripes of your skin as his hands pulled off your boots, unfastened your bra… They were surprisingly nimble for such a hulking man. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.” Johnny cooed as he let his eyes run down your body.

He dragged his mouth down from your neck, across you clavicle, over one of your breasts, and caught your nipple between his teeth, beginning to suck on it, noticing how you hissed a bit, leaning back on your elbows as he did so.

One of his hands caught your other breast, grabbing and carefully kneading it between his fingers, as his eyes shot up to your face, blue irises beneath a pair of dark eyelashes, fluttering slowly as his pupils blew out from how horny he was. His other hand found your black panties and pulled them aside, (more so ripped them with how aggressive he pulled on them), the rough and calloused pads of his fingers catching your lips immediately and beginning to slide up and down, running over your slit.

The moment his cracked fingertips grazed your clit, you whined, your legs spreading apart even more, your body jumping a bit. “Fuck…” You grumbled under your breath, your eyes locked on his face and the way he eagerly played with your nipple. 

“Relax.” Johnny told you once he let go of your nipple. Then, he rolled his tongue around in his mouth, collecting some saliva, before letting it drip onto your slit, his fingers catching it and spreading it quickly as he resumed playing with your clit, hand craning in order to push a finger inside.

“Oh fuck…” You moaned softly, hips bucking up against his hand, following his ministrations as he pushed a second finger inside of you and hooked them up to graze your g-spot, pumping them in and out, the rugged feel of his cracked fingertips drawing a surprisingly pleasant sensation of pleasure from the depths of your soul.

His other hand moved away from your breasts in order to undo his belt, leaving it to hang around his waist as he also undid his jeans, sliding them and his boxer briefs down one-handed, in order to allow his cock to spring free.

Your eyes lock onto it as he continues fingering you, a bit sloppy and rough, his palm pressed to your clit and his fingers constantly drawing a ‘come hither’ motion inside your wet walls.

His cock is stubby, shorter than some of the men you’ve been with, but so thick you can’t help but wonder just how he’ll make it fit inside of you, and how straining the stretch of it will be. It’s heavy too, uncut, hanging down even while already full-mast, too heavy to spring back against his belly button. His balls are heavy too, full, round and strained as he continues to play with you, watching your reactions to his touch.

“You like what you see, huh?” He asks you, noticing the way your eyes don’t slip far from his cock before returning to it, watching it lay against one of your smooth thighs, the ruddy color and constant twitching only bringing more attention it as it rubs against your skin, dripping pre-cum over your stretch marks.

“Mhm…” You reply softly as your hand reaches down to tug at it, carefully wrapping around it and drawing it up and down over his length, only letting go to cup his taut balls and fondle them a few times.

“Tha’s it…” He murmurs and hisses under his breath as he looks you right in the eyes. “Wanna be good f’r me?” He coos at you, and you nod in reply as you bite your lip. “How about you get on your knees and let me see how you suck me off, hm?”

Nodding, you untangle yourself from around him, his fingers slipping out of you, as you took your spot on the floor, the soldier having been caring enough to toss a pillow from the bed onto the floor to cushion your knees.

He sits on the edge of the bed, strong, muscular thighs spread open, as you sunk your mouth onto him, without so much as a second’s worth of hesitation. The stretch as you tried to swallow as much of him as you can tugged at the corners of your mouth, making them feel a bit sore, your jaw already protesting at the size of him. But that doesn’t stop you.

You start lapping at the underside of his cock eagerly, wetting him as much as possible to make sure you could continue taking him down your throat. The sounds he was making were sinful, low groans and grunts, hissing through his teeth, one hand carefully fisting the bed covers.

He carefully gathered your hair away from your face, gripping it one handed. “Tha’s it… Greedy thign you are, wanna take all of my fat cock in your mouth, hm?” He goaded a bit as he looked down at you between his legs.

Any other time, any other place, any other man, you’d already be pulling off him, getting dressed, telling him to fuck off… But something in this soldier’s voice, in his accent, the growl behind his voice, the spark in his eyes… 

Maybe you are just desperate for a good lay with the thickest cock you’ve ever seen… But you don’t complain. You simply nod at him and bobbed your head even more enthusiastically, lips struggling to glide up and down his length, spread open sinfully to accommodate his size.

“Tha’s a good girl…” He praises, his free hand coming to grip you at the back of your neck, tugging you slowly, forward, to make you swallow more of him down into your throat, making you gag and sputter on his length, sloppily drooling around the size of him, saliva drooling down your chin and onto the carpeted floor of your hotel room.

“Pretty fucking thing… Gonna make that make-up run, hm?” He offers as he pulled you off and back onto his cock, moving your head for you. “Show some attention to that pretty pussy of yours, go on.” He demands, causing you to nod.

One of your hands found your wet slit between your legs, sliding two fingers inside, which felt like not nearly enough after having had his own, and considering the fat cock that would soon replace them, but you’d make do. 

“Both hands, don’t be coy now.” He added. Your eyes widen, already anticipating the loss of balance that’d come from the lack of support from your free hand holding you up on the bed. But you do as you’re told, trying your best to keep a perch on your knees as your other hand starts slowly padding at your clit, rolling circles with it.

When you inevitably lose balance, as you knew you would, the soldier simply pulls you forward against him, making you bury your nose against his pelvis, swallowing his cock in its entiry, causing you to choke and gag, trying to catch a breath through your nose. He, in turn, lets out a loud groan of delight, eyes rolling back, as he feels the warm wetness of your throat.

“Keep your hands where they are.” He demands of you, preventing you from trying to pull away and find balance again with your hands on the bed or the floor or his thighs. You can barely do much more than nod against his hip.

He hooks a leg over your shoulder, pinning you close to him, while his hips begin to rock into your mouth, blindly and sloppily, making you gag more and more, more saliva slipping down from your parted lips, making a mess of him and yourself. “Tha’s it… yeah… just what I fuckin’ needed… Such a good girl f’r me…” He grunts as his hand swipes your hair out of your face as it slips from his grip.

“You like this?” He asks you as he abuses your mouth and your throat, while you sputter and try to fruitlessly breathe between each thrust of his into your throat. Nodding pathetically, mouth to full to speak, you whimper against him, making him shiver and shudder. “Of course you do… greedy fuckin’ mouth…”

He only pulls you off him after another couple of minutes, which felt like an eternity, allowing you to catch your breath only for long enough for him to pull you onto the bed, bending you over at the hips, presenting your round ass to him.

“Mmmmm, look at you…” He grunts out as he ruts his cock between your ass cheeks while tugging your head back at the scalp, causing your back to arch ever so slightly, your tits still pressed against the bed covers. “Round fuckin’ arse… Gonna love see it jiggle f’r me…”

He lets go of you again for a moment only to paw at your ass cheeks with one hand, while the other blindly looks for his wallet in his jeans. “Find me a condom, will ye?” He asks as he tosses the leather wallet next to your head, while he steps out of his jeans, underwear and boots, finally.

While looking for the little clip pocket containing them, you spot his military identification very briefly. It makes you realize you didn’t even ask him his name… Nor did he ask for yours. A green and white striped card titled ‘British Army’, with the name ‘John MacTavish’ and some extra info you don’t really pay attention to. John. That’s his name…

Once you pass him one of the silver wrappers, Johnny rips it open and puts on the slick condom quickly, barely waiting a moment before slipping himself inside of you, down to the hilt in one swift motion. You find yourself squirming against the bed covers with a whine, while he groans loudly behind you.

Although the stretch was still wildly bigger than any other man you’ve been with before, it didn’t feel as uncomfortable as you expected it too… probably because you were wetter and more eager than you expected.

He starts rutting inside of you immediately, huffing through clenched teeth as his big hands grip your ass cheeks and keep you spread open. His fingers dig deeply onto your extra fat, squeezing and kneading it, his blue eyes glued to the way your puffy lips part and stretch to swallow him whole. “Beautiful fuckin’ sight…”

“Fuck… Just like that… Don’t stop…” You beg him and whine loudly, fisting the white bed covers and digging your nails into them, your face resting on them sideways, sliding back and forth with each thrust of his.

You’re sure the hotel staff is going to have a field day washing the duvet, your make-up already staining the white fluffy fabric, sliding down with the sweat, and dragging across with each motion of your head.

You can barely speak or think, moaning in turn with him, each thrust of his causing you to croon and whimper in delight, his fat cock hitting you at every possible angle and rubbing every inch of your walls, the veins dragging against your g-spot, the condom barely there.

“Yeah… ye like tha’? Huh? Ye like it?” He coos at you, already slightly out of breath, hips barelling against your plump ass, making it jiggle as he bounces himself off them.

“Oh, fuck yes…!” You whine loudly. His hands slide up to find your hip, pushing you down against the mattress so he can shift more of his weight onto you, pumping at a downward angle, causing you to shriek desperately.

“Oh yeah…” Johnny grunts and starts huffing atop you, leaning all his weight atop of you as he pounds his hips against yours, his breath ragged against your shoulder and hair. “Fuck… Yer cunts feels so fuckin’ good…” He murmurs in your ear, his thick accent becoming.

“Oh, God…” You whimper, shuddering beneath him, feeling the familiar knot tightening in your stomach, each of his strong thrusts rattling every fiber of your being. “John…”

“Oh… tha’s it… Moan my name…” He orders as one of his hands suddenly shoots up and grips you by the back of the neck. “Moan my name…” He insists as he throws his hips down onto yours.

“John!” You call out, doing as you’re told, panting for air as he pushes your face harder into the mattress, slowing his thrusts down and bottoming out inside you each time at a slower pace.

Good thing he did too… Because the knot in your stomach only tightens more and more and more, and then snaps, making you cry out loudly with a choked moan that gets half-caught in your throat as your walls suddenly clamp down around him, tightening the grip on his fat shaft.

“Oh fuck…” Johnny grunts and picks up the pace again, grasp your hip as hard as his hands can, a bruising grip that’ll definitely leave a mark, as he pounds into your weeping cunt again and again and again…

He finally comes, losing his balance and landing on his elbows and forearms on either side of your body, his chest against your back, out of breath, as much as you, even though you feel like you barely did anything other than take him.

“Fuck… I needed that…” He grumbles under his breath as he speaks against your shoulder blade, before leaning up and biting at your earlobe. “That feel good f’r ye?” He whispers in your ear, an earnest question, receiving a little nod from you. “Good…”

Slowly, he pulled himself up, slipping his softening cock from you and rolling the condom off. “So… how long are ye and yer friends stayin’ here?” He asks you nonchalantly while tying off the condom.

“Are you trying to make small talk…?” You ask him, surprised that you can even find a voice or string together a coherent sentence in the aftermath of that. You try your best to drag yourself up and over onto the bed, and once you succeed, you look at him languidly.

“No. I have a reason to ask.” He assures you as he tosses the condom into the paper bin under the desk in the corner, before shuffling back over to you on the bed, lying lazily next to you, an arm behind his head, the other on his stomach.

“Four more days.” You tell him, and he nods at the reveal of information. You roll your head to the side to look at him, both of your bodies sweaty and sticky, your make-up undoubtedly a mess, not that he shows it in the way he looks at you… And even if he did, he’d likely only show pride at making you look like that.

“Well… I’m comin’ to pay ye a visit every night until then.” He tells you, before wrapping his free arm around you, pulling you close. “I plan on gettin’ that tight cunny wrapped around my cock fer as long as I can.”

yes, this is a repost of the original "Temporary Fix." but without the cheating :)

[ohbabydollie]

omg heyy 🤭 ive only just found your blog but i absolutely adore your writing!! could i please request some housewife headcanons? ty <3

my ideal career is housewife but i js need to marry schlatt so i don’t have to worry abt money first 😔

taking care of him during streams!

bringing in water, food, anything he needs

he takes that chance to show you off to his stream, shower you in compliments before you head out of his office

he will literally take any chance he can to rub it into anyone’s face

“what am i eatin right now? it’s just some soup my WIFE made me, it’s whatever, she does it all the time” he says with a cocky grin

he loves home cooked meals and will asks for seconds constantly

he gets a taste for your cooking (and baking) to the point he doesn’t enjoy eating out as much

he loves that you basically can be around him 24/7 since he works from home and you don’t have a job

if he ever tries cooking for a stream, he’s struggling so hard

he gains so much respect for you if you make almost everything by scratch

if you take up a little hobby like baking or pottery or gardening

he.fucking.loves.it.

he shows off anything and everything you make

drinks from mugs you make, eats whatever you baked or grew and makes a point to tell everyone

“well ted, while you’re eatin’ your nasty ass rap snacks, i’ll be eating this” he says smiling and holding up a bowl of strawberries, “delicious, home grown, organic, non-micro plastic, strawberries, that my wife grew” he says with a satisfied smile “not to mention she also made the bowl, it’s bpa free”

hes literally such a dick to everyone about how he’s married to you

“i’m havin’ chicken n dumplins for dinner, they’re HOMEMADE by the way, not the nasty trader joe’s shit you gotta eat” schlatt says to ted with a grin “m’ wife is makin it all from scratch”

he says you “balance him out” with how sweet and soft you are

makes tradwife jokes all the time

he also likes making jokes about other people wanting you and actively brags about it

“we were a beach the other day and i saw men eyein her up, didn’t even care ‘cause i was the guy rubbin tannin oil on her back”

he loves buying you pretty new clothes, jewelry, makeup, etc.

he pays for you to get your hair, nails, etc. done

loves doing little things with you from grocery shopping to wasting time at a retail store

he says the cats got into something on stream and always comes back with light lipstick marks on his lips and face

looks for any excuse to kiss and touch you on camera

flirts with you even when you’ve been married for years

he only has eyes for you as you do him and every one knows

everyone can tell that even with the jokes he makes he loves you so much

[lostintransist]

Seamstress | Part 4

Part 1 here. AO3

John lets the men simmer for two days. Mostly he lets their trip to his seamstress ride to see if they brought it up to him. They didn’t. Guess he would be playing this the sly way.

“Found an old quilt from my grandmother when cleaning out my mum’s house last leave.”

Johnny’s brain sparked on the word association just as John hoped it would.

“Found out I can get my family kilts fixed up and preserved. Met a pretty lass who runs a shop that said it was a possibility.”

“Oh?” John folded his arms across his chest, encouraging Johnny to go on by tilting his head in interest.

“Yeah, pretty bird, kicked us out when we started asking about-”

He cut himself off pretty quick but John gave him a small scary smile.

“Asking about who, Johnny?”

Johnny started to back up, hands raised as he babbled his excuses.

“Finish your excuses and go get the guys.”

Johnny turned tail and fled from the room. His muppets filed in the room, Johnny getting forced by the neck by Simon who glared down at him. Must have wanted to keep this a secret. Should have known better than to tell Johnny. The man couldn’t keep a non-life-threatening secret to save anyone’s life. Kyle and Gary slid in after the duo.

“Muppets. You will leave my seamstress well enough alone or I will make it a problem for you.”

“So she is yours?” Gary piped up from the side.

Shooting him a glare John continued.

“I am grown enough to not explain myself to the lot of you, but if I get a call again about any of you bothering her I will make it everyone’s problem.”

Kyle smirked and spoke out one side of his mouth.

“Seems like Price can’t get a date.”

“Kyle I swear to my god and yours I will make you disappear if you keep it up. If your clothes go missing, just know they will be back. Now get out of here the lot of you.”

His men shared smiles and eye contact.

They hustled from the room when he picked up his blackened coffee mug to throw at one of them.

“Fucking muppets going to send me to an early grave. I don’t even have her phone number yet,” he mumbled to himself as the back of them disappeared.

🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡

You think about John far more often than you should. He is a customer. Yes, he sleeps in your chairs and smiles at you in a way that pulls his cheeks to the moon, and yes he makes your heart flutter the tiniest bit but, but he is a customer who has never shown interest and you refuse to make someone feel uncomfortable in your shop. Your shop was a safe space, for everyone. Your flags are on clear display, so many, many flags, made sure of it.

He stepped through your thoughts carelessly. When you were wandering a superstore you somehow ended up in the camping section. A clearance foldable cot caught your eye and left the store with you. You maneuvered it into your tiny car and into the shop without allowing yourself to question why you had bought it.

John appeared two mornings following your purchase. You smile, wider than you should, at him.

“Hi John, welcome back! Got anything new and interesting for me today?”

Did you sound too chipper?

“Nothing crazy, one of my men needs a mask fixed.”

“Do you always bring in their items? I hope they are paying you at least,” you joke as you take the offered mask.

Spreading it on the counter you look it over, a tear over one ear and one from the eye portion. Both are decently easy fixes but would require your ring light and some time with a hand needle.

Looking up you offer John another smile. Fuck, can you keep the smiles to a minimum? He is going to think you are weird and then stop coming by.

“This shouldn’t take terribly long, I would say maybe an hour?”

John knocked one knuckle against the counter as he nodded. With both hands on the armrests, you remembered the cot in the back.

“Oh, John!”

He paused, ass halfway lowered into the seat.

“I..uh..” you stammer to a stop, unsure of how your words might be received.

“Yes?” He lifts a single brow at you, body not shaking as he waits.

Tucking one arm to your chest and the other to your mouth you speak from behind it.

“I found a cot. I brought it to the shop for you to use if you wanted?”

The words rush out of you, mumbled by your hand, and the speed by which you hurl them.

John stands, moving to stand next to the counter where the floor changes, noting the difference in customer space vs working space.

“What was that dove?”

Tightening your lips before biting the inside of your cheek you force yourself to say your words again. Slower, clearer you speak.

“I have a cot for you. In the back, so that you can sleep.”

His face goes blank as he blinks at you.

He looked a bit like a 404 code in the flesh.

A small smile breaks across his face as color spreads up his cheeks.

“For me?”

“Well,” you tighten both arms around your middle as you reply. “No one else seems to pay me for the privilege of sleeping in my shop, so yes?”

John rubs the back of his neck with one hand.

You awkwardly stare at him. What do you even say now? Do you invite him to lie down? No that sounded weird.

“Do you-”

“Why don-”

You both started and stopped at hearing the other’s voice.

Spinning on your heel you turned towards the storage room, confident John would follow. Popping the door open you can do nothing more than point to the cot, still covered in tape from the store.

John slides by you, chest brushing your arm and shoulder as he does. If you have to fight back the urge to take a bite? Well, he would never need to know.

“I can set it up for you if you don’t mind?” John looks back over his shoulder at you.

Knowing you are beet red you can only nod.

“I bought it for you but didn’t get a chance to,” you gesture at it as if your vague motion will explain all your thoughts.

John’s smile, eyes crinkling and shoulders softening, melted your heart.

“I’ll take care of it and then take a good nap. My men have started to comment that I am nicer to them after I get a nap here.” He knelt, pulling out a pocket knife and slicing open the package.

“Your men?” You lean against the door frame, unabashedly watching. “What is it you do for work John?”

“Special forces, I’m a captain. I lead a group of myself and four other men.”

“Well, that would explain a lot of the smells.”

He looks up at you, brow cocked.

“Smells?”

“Like fire, gunpowder, sweat, sometimes fear.”

“You get a lot of smell knowledge here?”

“I get a lot of everything here,” you shrug, unable to articulate how no matter how clean a piece of cloth some lingering smells clung.

John turns back to his task. You spend far, far too long watching him. The way his shoulders dip and arms change shape as he uses them. When the cot is built and John stands he turns and catches sight of you, you give a panicked smile and flee for the counter where you had left the mask.

Slamming your body into your chair you turned on your ring light, pulled your black thread, and focused diligently on fixing the holes you had been asked to address. John did not reappear for nearly an hour. You had finished the mask sooner than that but had not yet found the fortitude to go and wake him.

The creases on his face matched the lines on the shoulder of his shirt, and the slight drool stain.

“Right on time?”

You smile and nod.

“Well let’s settle up and I will find a reason to be back in a few days.” John returns to the customer side of the counter, sure of himself and you.

“You don’t have to pay me to come nap if that is all you need,” you start.

He cuts you off with a wave of his hand.

“My men are hard on clothes. If I can get you some business I feel less bad about using you for some shut-eye.”

Supposing you had to accept that answer you unlock your tablet and complete the transaction.

Once his card clears you pass over the mask.

“You’re jewelry box should be done by Christmas.”

He drops the statement as if he forgot to bring it up until now.

“Christmas should be fine, I don’t have many plans though I will be out of town the week of Christmas proper. I will be visiting my grandmother.” Paternal grandmother since your mother was not allowed to visit, but no need to mention that.

“We will have to find some time to ensure I can get you the gift then,” he smiled as he said it.

“I told you I would pay for it John,” you chide.

With a shrug, he tucked the mask into his pocket and stepped back from the counter.

“Can’t pay me for a Christmas present dove.”

With that, he waved and pushed through the front door.

“The hell I can’t,” you spoke to the empty shop.

Part 3 | Part 5

Masterlist

[comradekarin]

barbz are so fucking stupid it makes me sick. y’all doxxed, harassed and threatened a tik toker for being the one to TELL THE TRUTH about nicki, and use the sarcastic “so family is off limits” comment as if that’s cute? doing a fabulous read on nicki “cokehead” minaj defending and endorsing her rapist, pedophilic husband and brother and surrounding herself with violent men while simultaneously degrading women are the same as a sixteen year old saying her opinion online? the barbz getting other accounts banned/doxxed who speak out against her? leaking megan’s mother’s gravesite? making dehumanizing edits and disgracing megan’s character (and nicki liking and reposting these comments as well)? nicki minaj is a 41 year old grown ass multimillionaire woman, please stop excusing her childish and dangerous ass behavior because of how she grew up. even the insinuation that she doesn’t know any better because of her upbringing is also an extremely disgusting thing to say. her long ass incoherent rants on twitter are not “iconic”, it’s EMBARRASSING.

nicki loves to play villain and victim when it suits her. you’d think her defense of her husband and brother would be the line drawn for people, but it’s treated as something to bypass and ignore and “not consider as a fan of the music”. nicki is NOT your friend. she is NOT your family. parasocial relationships with celebrities who will never know you are dangerous. it’s one thing to be fan, it’s another to blindly follow, support, and justify anything your fav does. if you can excuse the disgusting actions of one, that means you have never stood for the principals and morals you claim to have. fuck, some of y’all must be doing lines with her cuz the amount of delusion, hate, and ignorance that so many barbz exude needs to be studied. do better.

[wilyserpentofeden]

In light of the continuing allegations against Neil Gaiman I want to be sure people know I believe the women who are coming forward, and I am disappointed in him but somehow not surprised wrt all the other famous men who have done the same. I'm not sure how I'll proceed with this blog in the future, but I have absolutely no interest in defending or financially supporting a sex pest and I want to make sure that is crystal clear. Some additional points that have been bugging me:

Terfs cannot keep tying the allegations to his support of trans rights as some sort of 'gotcha' to frame trans rights or trans people in a negative light, he is a cisgender man who abused his wide influence due to fame, which there are many cases of. The vitriol should be aimed at other cisgender men abusing their wide influence, and those who perpetuate rape culture. Preaching to the choir here because terfs won't listen to me but whatever.

additionally, my fellow trans ppl need to consider that even transphobes can be victims of SA, and allegations against a fully cisgender man who happens to have pro-trans politics doesn't mean any allegation is a transphobic conspiracy, it might just mean someone with bad politics was legitimately assaulted, and that's still bad because literally nobody should be assaulted. (Edit: the story got twisted somewhere along the line and it seems that there was just a TERF involved in reporting the story, and it is not even certain what the politics of the women who were assaulted were, in which case my point still stands, literally nobody should be assaulted and it is not an anti trans conspiracy if someone even vaguely adjacent to TERF-dom experienced assault.)

and finally, other Good Omens fans cannot keep making excuses for him based on technicalities simply to keep their conscience clean or to keep a parasocial relationship in tact because even the most innocent sounding and vaguely legal versions of the story that people are passing around are still markers of incredibly shitty and creepy behavior on his part and he should be held responsible for being shitty and creepy rather than have his fanbase make excuses for a grown ass man. He is in his 60s and he is very famous, he does not need you to defend him for horrible things he has done, and you do not need to parasocially hold on to him. Remember this when he inevitably returns to Tumblr and tries to proceed as normal once he assumes the allegations have been forgotten.

[alaskan-wallflower]

daily reminder that just because the outsiders is a male centric production does not give you the right to catcall the actors-harassment should be treated the same regardless of gender because i KNOW if jt was men went to six or suffs and catcalled the actresses then it would be dealt with. it is beyond PUTRID that the fact that this harassment and inappropriate behavior has not been dealt with likely because it’s men being catcalled by women. And to the people DEFENDING this type of shit by saying it’s okay because the men are “asking for it” or “it’s okay because they’re attractive” i hope you rot in hell. This is vile behavior. Women catcalling men should be treated the same as a man catcalling a. woman and I am SO fucking sick of seeing these stories where people are now YELLING STUFF AT THE ACTUAL DAMN SHOW and disrupting the people around them?! Grown ass women too?! a what the actual fuck?!

I’m gonna cut it here because I’m so mad rn but actors are people and you have to treat them like the people they are instead of some animals to be observed. Get over yourselves. All those people ate disgusting excuses for human beings because at some point it borders sexual harassment and the double standard makes me sick. if this happened at six or suffs or any female centric play it would be properly dealt with. and the fact that this is an ongoing issue and has gotten so bad they’ve considered shutting stage door is beyond vile and i cannot even give it the proper words to express how despicable it is. Be nice to the actors. Don’t take advantage of an actors kindness. Do not treat an actor like a spectacle. They’re normal people.

This fandom is fucking gross. Get over yourselves.

[abla-soso]

"Alicent didn't choose to have her kids, so she doesn't owe them anything"

This is not the argument, you goddamn buffons.

We're not saying that Alicent is obligated to love her children. She isn't. We're saying that children who are produces of rape don't deserve to be actively endangerd or put to death by their mothers. They didn't fucking chose how they were conceived!

Alicent is not simply abandoning her sons, and you know it. She is actively putting their lives in danger (unintentionally, I must say).

But you don't see any issue with that! You think Alicent is entitled to intentionally throw away her "impure" sons like trash and send them to their deaths because she didn't chose to have them.

The same sons she raised to live in a non-stop fight or flight mood throughout their entire lives (wow, I wonder how they turned into warmongering freaks!!) because she drilled into their heads that their sister will absolutely kill them after their father's death. Going as far as to literally drag her oldest son and force him to be king and then force her other son to fight in his cause.

Now that their sister is coming to kill them... she's now somehow entitled to abandon them to her? How? Why? That's not how it fucking works.

And it kills me when they bring up Aemond's and Aegon's crimes and how they're grown adults who should be responsible for their actions, as if that's fucking relevant to the argument at all.

You fuckers make all kinds of excuses for Alicent's bad choices and bad parenting because she suffered truama - despite her being a grown ass adult when she forced Aegon to be king and forced Aemond to fight for his cause - but dismiss the effects of truama Aemond and Aegon suffered. Because it ruins your whole argument when you acknowledge Alicent's big role in the truama that shaped both of her sons into the men you hate.

And it's astonishing how you don't take your shitty argument to their logical conclusion. Helaena is a product of marital rape, too. I don't see you idiots cheering for Alicent to send her to her death. She doesn't owe her anything, right? Why not just run away and leave her to Rhaenyra's mercy? Oh I forgot! She "earned" something from Alicent by being "pure". This is totally not a narssastic parenting style, folks!

[nishloves]

finding kwon soonyoung;

hoshi (svt) x reader // words : 1.1k // fluff oneshot // no warnings

"soonyoung!" you huff as you strode past another park, settling deeper into your warm jacket as you turn to look at under the slides and climbers.

sighing when you couldn't find him.

"did you find him, y/n?" you heard seungcheol call out to you as you cringe, a little embarrassed for not being able to find a 178cm man.

"i couldn't," you reply, your voice soft as seungcheol sighs, an easy smile on his face.

"don't worry— he's too good at hiding," he says, patting your back to comfort you as you frown at him, "no because- how did he even hide? is there any place to hide?"

"dunno— let me go search for jeonghan though," he said as he waved at you, running across the to the different block as you waved back at him.

why were grown up adults even playing hide and seek?

was it because you told your sibling that it'd be hard for a grown ass adult like you to hide among the many parks and soonyoung took an offence to it? or was it because all of you were reminiscing back to your childhood— to your better days as you indulged the neighborhood kids for a few games of hide and seek.

but fuck, was it hard?

even though you were split between the seeker and the hiders team, it was hard— specifically hard to find jeonghan and soonyoung as you panted, too tired to go further and so you sat on a nearby park bench.

you called him, thinking that he won't pick up. yet he did.

"hello?" his voice was light, almost like a whisper as you chuckled, imagining him hunching and hiding some place absurd as he picked up your phone, only to whisper a darth-vader like hello due to bad connection.

"come on out, the game's over."

"it is?"

you smiled, "yeah!"

"it hasn't been thirty minutes yet— i myself have a watch."

"but it is over— we are all tired."

"make me talk to cheol then," he said as you sighed at him, knowing full well that he wouldn't leave his hiding spot because of your small lie.

"you don't trust me?" you asked, your lips in a pout as the line was quiet for a while, you wondered if he was still there?

"you've been staying with jeonghan quite a lot."

you chuckled, "that's valid."

"come on, soonie~" you whine, "give me a hint!"

"no can do y/n, i am afterall a tall man hiding in your plain sight."

you frantically looked around the park as you could hear him giggle, his breath light as he tried to control his laughter.

"where are you?"

"find me."

"soonyoung, i—" you sigh, your shoulders slunched as you copy a pitiful posture, knowing that he's seeing you, "come on, tell me where you are— i won't tell them."

he was quiet for a while as he asked you, "you won't?"

"i won't." the biggest lie a seeker tells.

"then," you heard him shuffle as you yet again tried to spot him, but to no avail.

"look inside the tubes."

you stared at the cylindrical white huge tubes at the very edge of the park, you remember peeking inside them a while ago, "but I already looked there?" you said over the call, trudging across the park as you spotted the same man you had been finding, a widespread grin on his face, his eyes crinckled into crescent moons.

you couldn't betray him.

"hey," you said as you ended the call, shoving him further inside as you settled yourself next to him, you cheeks a little hot.

"you didn't call out to them," his voice was bewildered as you noticed his strong gaze on you while you scoffed, "you really believed i would break my promise like that?"

you nudged your shoulder with his, happy to have an excuse as you relished your time next to him— too happy— considering that you were sitting inside a dirty tube, playing hide 'n seek with grown men.

"we didn't promise anything," you could feel his grin on you as you panicked, 'you could still rat him out' you heard your inner voice say, but would you?

"should I call them over then?" you asked, knowing full well that you wouldn't.

you heard his chuckle as he grasped your hand in his, his thumb rubbing your knuckles, "no."

you could feel your smile widen as you looked at his dopey smile— oh, how badly you had wanted to win, but your heart wouldn't let you make them find him.

"i looked here a few minutes ago," you said, changing the topic, "i didn't see you."

"maybe you didn't look well enough?"

"I'm pretty sure that I did."

"then maybe, I changed my spot."

you pouted at him, you could see his eyes widen slightly in the dark as you felt his lips on the back of your hand, your cheeks seething as he pulled you further inside— normally, you would have been severely revolted by this gesture, but today was special— special in a way that each moment with him was making your heart race.

"next time."

"next time?" you asked.

"next time," he said, "next time, if I ever hide from you, I'll tell it to you then."

your heart warmed as you stared at him, not willing to pull your hand away from his, you could hear your teammates call out to you, seungkwan especially loudly, you saw soonyoung flinch— as you noticed that a good five minutes were still left.

would you sacrifice a game for a mere five minutes of intimate moments?

you didn't reply back to them as you pressed your lips on his, hearing him sigh contently as he pulled you closer to him, in that cramped space.

"next time," you said, "don't hide from me."

you felt him grin against your lips as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, a cheesy smile on your face as you said, "even if you did, i will find you."

"and i'll let you."

"I'll find you before that!"

"bet."

[thebirdandthebee]

Mighty Fine (18+)

Just a little slump-buster ft. our favorite aviator. Taking requests for TGM and The Bear in my inbox. Smut ahead. Painfully pining Rooster. 18+ only! This is not edited, so please excuse any glaring issues.

Title: Mighty Fine Caroline, see, Caroline - all the guys would say she's mighty fine WC: 3716

The Hard Deck was not in a poor financial state – in fact, since Penny took it over five years ago, she’d done better business than the establishment had ever logged.

Sure, some positive changes, listening to customer feedback and stocking just the right kind of beer helped. But Penny knew that for the past year, there was specifically one woman who helped bump sales big time.

And tonight, a Friday night ahead of the fourth of July, Penny knew they’d hit record numbers.

The leggy brunette flitted about the full bar – packed asses to elbows – with a smile that held a secret and lashes longer than a summer afternoon.

Caroline was all perfume and warm skin. A promise of what could be behind a beauty mark and cherry gloss.

Tonight she’d tucked her white tank into a pair of cutoff shorts and knotted an American flat bandanna around her neck, the tip of the triangle teasing her cleavage. The low-slung cowgirl boots did nothing to interrupt the long lines of her legs and she trusted them with each pivot she needed to make through the crowd.

When her attention landed on you, it felt like you were the only person in the room. She knew how to work a crowd. A small gallery assembled to watch her re-stock the tray of cherries – one of her favorite snacks throughout the night.

“Caro, sweetheart,” Penny called, topping of a lager pour.

“Penny, my love,” Caroline countered, popping the tabs on three ciders.

“Can you let me these men live for one night?” Her boss teased, nipping at the fabric around her employee’s neck.

“I can’t show my love for America the beautiful?” Caroline replied with a wink. Penny laughed with a shake of her head.

Caroline had started at the Hard Deck last summer, asking for a few weekend shifts – the ones no one else wanted to take in order to enjoy their own weekends – since her classes for UCSD ran from Tuesday through Thursday.

“Rent’s due this week, Pen!” Caroline called as she ducked under the counter, greeting her adoring audience as she head to the stockroom to grab a crate of Sam Adams.

Rooster entered the bar that night with his hopes high and his buddies trailing close behind.

He’d had his sights set on Caroline for months. A squeezed shoulder here, a bat at his biceps there and he was hooked. Sometimes he felt like a cartoon, floating behind her like a cherry pie on its way to cool in the open window.

“Oh Rooster, you’re so fucked,” Fanboy commented, catching sight of the brunette wonder first. She was pouring a line of shots across the bar top, handing them out to a group of sailors who wished she was their treat instead. Taking a clear glass for herself, they all clanked their shots before tossing them back.

Penny didn’t mind if Caroline drank on the job – she was a grown woman who knew her limits who could always use working as an excuse to get out of it.

“Here’s trouble,” Caroline announced, “G&T, Fanboy?” She asked as they saddled up to the bar – their first stop before heading back to the darts.

“Please,” Fanboy grinned, basking in the glow of her attention.

“A rum and Coke for Coyote, Hefeweizen for Phoenix and porter for my Rooster,” she listed off, gathering glasses and stationing herself over the beer taps. “That sound right?” She asked with a tilt of her head, locking eyes with Bradley.

“Perfect as always,” he replied, his honey brown eyes melting into hearts.

“Ladies first,” Caroline simpered, handing Phoenix her beer, “then, we go in order of beauty,” she added. “Fanboy,” she passed over the gin and tonic, “Coyote,” she listed next, giving his rum and Coke a swish, “and, last, but certainly not least, Rooster,” she pulled the tap of the porter, leaving just the perfect thin band of foam at the top.

“You trying to break my heart?” Bradley asked, leaning over the bar, willing her to lean in closer.

“I gotta keep you humble, Rooster,” she replied, pushing his glass toward him, “because I know they don’t call you that due to the size of your ego,” she said, turning on a heel to attend to the other side of the bar while Jimmy grabbed the trash to bring out back. Though she tossed a wink over her shoulder that made his upper lip tremble beneath his mustache.

“When you going to let me buy you a drink?” He called out, voice nearly blending in with the buzz of the bar. She shook her head with a laugh, focusing on the task at hand, but they both knew she heard him.

Rooster joined his friends back at the darts. The Fourth of July weekend was guaranteed chaos at the ‘Deck – not too unlike Homecoming weekend at UVA. Bradley loved the liveliness of it all. However, it meant that Caroline’s attention was pulled every which way except his.

“I just think if I could get her alone for 10 minutes…” he said, eyeing her hopefully as she moved about the establishment.

“Rooster, give it up, she’s way out of your league and half the bar in here is hoping she’ll go home with them tonight,” Coyote said honestly.

“You’ve been drooling over her for months,” Fanboy agreed, “it’s getting pretty pathetic.”

But Rooster was more confident than ever. He knew they’d be great together – he just had to show her.

A little time passed, they took up a game of darts and after not too long, Caroline found herself making a sweep for empty glasses.

“Another, Phee?” She asked Phoenix, who nodded with a smile.

“We’ll do another round,” Coyote supplied. Caroline stacked up empty glasses, swinging around the space, aware of Rooster’s eyes on her as he leaned against the side rail that ran the length of the back wall.

“Grab your glass?” She asked, matching his posture against the drink rail, her open hand effortlessly clasping a tower of glass. Rooster pushed his empty toward her, a little downturned twitch of his mustache giving him away. “Why so glum, Rooster? It’s the Fourth of July,” she said, a little pout on her lips that made his stomach flip. “Have to imagine it doesn’t get better than that, huh?”

“What’s it going to take for you to have a drink with me?” He asked. “You know I’m eyein’ you up every time I come in here,” he elaborated.

“Maybe,” Caroline began, “I don’t want to have a drink with you at my place of work?” She suggested lightly. “But if you invited me to Buzzards, your odds would be a lot better,” she shrugged. “Thanks for the glass, Rooster, you can pick up a fresh one in 10.”

Caroline flitted away, making her journey back to the main bar with two tall stacks in her hands, gracefully hip-checking the counter to step inside.

“Maybe you do have a shot after all?” Phoenix asked, raising her brows as she turned back to the game of darts at hand. Bradley’s eyes tracked her as she moved about, pouring beers and mixing cocktails, his eyes zeroing in as she popped a maraschino cherry into her mouth before doing the same to a young, blonde sailor on the other side of the bar.

He wiped the back of his mouth off, crossing the room and heading over to the piano, his first initial plucks of the keys enough to clue a patron in to pull the plug on the juke box.

He cleared his throat as the intro grew stronger and louder, some already recognizing the tune.

“Where it began, I can’t begin to knowing,” he crooned. “But I know it’s growing strong.”

A few cheers rang out.

“Was in the spring, and spring became the summer, who’d have believed you’d come along?”

Caroline’s attention pulled over to the far wall, it now impossible to ignore with half of the bar singing Neil Diamond.

Hands, touching hands Reaching out, touching me, touching you

“Sweet Caroline!” Rooster belted, “good times never seemed so good!”

The crowd sang back, fists being pumped in the air.

So good! So good! So good!

“I’ve been inclined to believe they never would,” he focused his attention back down on his hands, but he could feel the brunette’s stare on the back of his neck.

Caroline shook her head, topping off another drink before grabbing a tall one and making her way through the crowd, which was packed near the piano as he carried on.

One, touching one

“Reaching out, touching me, touching you,” Rooster remained as focused as he could when he felt a paper-light touch travel across his the span of his shoulders, followed by a full beer being set on the top of the piano.

“Okay,” Caroline grinned, “you’ve got my attention,” she said, her arm resting across the top of his back. “So what are you going to do with it now that you have it?”

“The Deck is open until 11 – Buzzards is open till one, meet me there when you’re done?” He asked.

“I’ll be there,” she agreed, running her hand up his spine to squeeze the back of his neck. Rooster could barely keep playing as he nearly twisted his head all the way around to watch her walk away.

Buzzards Bar was different than the Hard Deck – younger, louder, and for Rooster, much less likely to run into his superiors. Sure, lots of sailors and aviators ended up there, but it wasn’t a dedicated bar like their usual haunt. Without the uncertainty hanging over his head, he really loosened up and had fun with his buddies at the Hard Deck, but they didn’t join him a Buzzards, opting to go find some fireworks instead.

It was 11:45 and Caroline hadn’t shown up yet, at least that he could see. He grabbed a round of drinks, another beer for him and a dirty Shirley for Caroline. If nothing else, he knew she loved cherries and this could be a pretty safe assumption.

Keeping a barstool warm near the back, Rooster’s gaze scanned the growing crowd on the dance floor. He could feel the air shift as Caroline approached the table, dressed in her same little outfit, bandanna around her neck like a little pack of goodies he’d like to unwrap. However, an unfamiliar man, who was standing just a bit closer to her than either of them liked, was closely trailing her. He was obviously trying to carry on a conversation with her over the loud bass of the music and she couldn’t be less interested.

Without effort or hiccup, Caroline waltzed right up to Rooster, standing between his legs that were angled outward on either side of his body, his feet on the bar of the stool. She leaned up against him, her elbows on resting on his thighs with her back to his front. Rooster’s arm immediately looped around her body, resting just below her neck, spanning across her chest.

The man immediately got the message and backed off, but she remained snug in his embrace when he walked away.

Caroline tipped her head back to look up at Rooster.

She knew she had a reputation as a flirt. It was silly to be a bartender and not take advantage just a little bit of what God gave her. But she loved Rooster’s attention. He was safe, simple and straightforward. He didn’t play games and treated her with respect.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she smiled, sending the breath rushing from his lungs.

“Happy Fourth,” Rooster said, using his free hand to offer her the cocktail.

“Mm, cherry – how’d you know?” She asked, taking a sip through the small black straw.

“Watchin’,”he replied, missing her warmth already as she put a little space between them, standing with her back to the dance floor.

“You watchin’ me?” She asked innocently enough, elbows on the high-top table. It took everything in him to keep his eyes on her face and not her cleavage that was winning the fight against her little white tank top.

“Hard to look away,” he said, taking a drink of his beer. “Though I think this is the most time you’ve ever spent looking back at me,” he added.

“Then you’re not as observant as you think, aviator,” Caroline said, setting her drink down reaching for his hand, pulling him off the chair and leading him into the throng of bodies. “Because I look at you plenty.”

Rooster was so surprised and exhilarated he wasn’t sure where to put his hands right away as she leaned back into him, moving her body to the beat of the song.

Cause great scenes might be great But I love your bloopers

“Rooster, relax,” Caroline purred as he ducked his head down to be closer to hers – his height difference over her apparent. She reached back, taking his hands in her and placing them on her body – one on her ribs and the other just inside of her hips. “You got me right where you wanted me.”

And perfect's for the urgent Baby I want forever

Caroline’s hands drifted up to cradle the back of his head, her back arching in the slightest. And while Bradley Bradshaw was a man of morals, they were mostly forgotten as he lowered his mouth to Caroline’s neck.

Caroline, don't you see that I want you to be mine?

“You request this one?” Rooster asked, his mustache ticking her in a skin, which immediately went to her nipples, hardening them beneath her tank.

“Just lucky I guess,” she breathed, rolling her head to the side to give him a little more access to her skin.

“I think luck follows you around,” he said.

“It must if you’re here with me,” she replied. Rooster didn’t even justify her comments with an answer. If she thought she was lucky because he was there with her, she wouldn’t begin to comprehend the amount of times he’d dreamt of this moment.

“Rooster?” She asked, threading her fingers through his hair, giving it a little tug as a test. The groan in her ear told her all she needed to know.

“Caroline,” he huffed out an exhale.

“I don’t want the rest of that drink,” she said, looking up to lock eyes with him. “I want you to put me in that big blue truck of yours and take me home.” Rooster felt his heart skip hard enough that it shot him with adrenaline.

“Honey, lead the way,” he replied, sober as a judge.

She’d seen the blue Bronco pull up to the Hard Deck a hundred times – it was as much a calling card of Rooster’s as his mustache or Hawaiian shirts. Now, she was thrilled to be inspecting the inside, her back to Rooster’s side with his arm draped over her shoulder again as she made the most of the bench seating.

Leading Caroline by the hand from the car to the house, she gladly stepped into his bachelor pad.

Rooster was just grateful that Bob was out of town for the weekend.

“Roommate?” She asked, walking along the picture rail in the family room – something Bob put up. It was mostly his stuff, anyway.

“You know Bob?” Bradley asked, tracking her movement as he stepped out of his shoes.

“Bob the sweetheart is your roommate?” She asked, looking over her shoulder, eyes dilating in the slightest as she took in the view. Rooster with his big shoulders, broad chest and handsome face – honey brown eyes focusing entirely in on her.

“Bob the sweetheart?” He asked, a small quirk to his lips.

“Bob the sweetheart, Bob the puppy dog…” she trailed off. “Pen and I have many nicknames for perfect Bob.”

“I think I’ve heard enough about perfect Bob,” Rooster said, advancing her like a predator stalking its prey.

“Want me to tell you what we call you behind your back?” She asked, a glint in her eye as he scooped her up with one arm, holding her tightly to his body as he carried her back to his bedroom.

“What’s that?” He asked.

“We – well, more like just me, because Penny babies you,” she screamed as Rooster gave her ass a hard squeeze. “But I,” she leaned in close, whispering into his ear, “I call you Oh My God Rooster,” she giggled, tracing the shell of his ear with her tongue. “Want to know why?” She asked.

“Tell me,” he said, kicking in his bedroom door.

“Because I always knew one day you’d make me say,” she fisted his shirt in her hands and tossed her head back, “Oh my God, Rooster!” She moaned, quickly gasping as he dropped her on his unmade bed.

“That shit isn’t fair,” he pointed an accusatory finger down at her before reaching for the fly on his shorts.

“Why not?” Caroline asked with a tilt of her head as she leaned back on her elbows.

“Because ever since you started at the Hard Deck, you haven’t given me the time of day,” he crawled over her on the bed, sealing his mouth over hers.

“I was avoiding you, I’ll admit,” she smirked, hips lifting as he began to pull her shorts off. “I knew as soon as this happened,” she paused, lifting his chin up to kiss her once more, “there’d be no going back.”

“You didn’t want to be my friend?” He asked, running his nose down her jawline as he reached behind her, pulling off her tank.

“Oh Rooster, we’re going to be much more than friends,” she purred, unhooking her bra. She reached for her little bandanna, but he stopped her.

“Leave it on, cowgirl,” he said, licking his lips. Stunned, he found himself down on the mattress, Caroline swinging a leg over his body to land gracefully on his hips. She pulled her bra down her arms and tossed it somewhere into the darkness – Bradley’s bedroom illuminated by the bright light of the moon through his window. He thought his tongue might roll out of his mouth like a yoyo.

“Does that make you my bucking bronco?” She giggled, reaching behind her to give his erection a quick, firm pump.

“Jesus,” he hissed, all the air leaving his lungs at once.

“Just Caroline,” she grinned maliciously.

“Why don’t you get up here and let me find out how sweet you are, Caroline,” he cajoled, tipping his chin up. The brunette threaded her fingers through his hair as she settled over his mouth, a long, low moan drawn from her lips as he licked a broad, flat swipe up the seam of her sex. Rooster’s hands slid around her sides and up to her lower back holding her body tight against his face.

“You’re never allowed to shave that mustache,” Caroline panted, followed by a high-pitched whine as she felt his whiskers against her clit. “Right there,” she mewled.

Rooster was a generous lover and apparently had a voracious appetite.

“Jesus Christ, Rooster,” she shivered as one of his thick fingers teased her entrance, circling her slowly as his lips cradled her clit. She could feel each and every one of his taste buds against her. “Roo, please,” she panted, “I want your cock.”

Bradley lifted her, a squeal on her lips as she landed back down on his abs. She couldn’t help but smile broadly at his wet mouth.

“If you smile at me like that again, I’m going to fucking marry you, Caroline,” he threatened, absolutely captivated by her.

She untied the bandanna from her neck, reaching down to cover his eyes and tie it loosely behind his head.

“Then don’t look, because I think I’m going to enjoy this a lot,” she said, smiling just the same as she lined up his cock and slowly sank down on it.

“You’re amazing,” Rooster crowed, “God you feel so good,” he said, hands resting on her soft thighs.

“You’re big,” she huffed, “like shit, Rooster, how do you have such good posture?” She asked, making him bark out a laugh. She settled herself all the way down and squeezed him on an upswing, making his abs flex as he tried to keep from busting immediately.

Leaning down, while still riding him smoothly, she pressed a kiss to his scarred cheek, tracing the line there with her tongue. He jumped as she dragged her teeth against his jawline, biting him gently while rolling his balls in her palm.

“Caroline,” he sounded worried, “I-fwa,” he lost his words as she did it again.

“Want me to stop?” She asked innocently enough.

“Don’t you dare,” he grunted while she tweaked his nipple.

“I can see it now,” she giggled, the action sending a ripple of pleasure down his spine. “C-a-r-o-l-i-n-e,” she twirled a finger across his pec.

“I’ll go tomorrow,” he promised, a sweat breaking out across his brow.  He could feel her fingernails just grazing his happy trail as Caroline circled her clit, wanting to meet him at his level.

“Rooster?” She asked, and he could hear the breathlessness in her voice.

“Caroline?” He countered, his face screwed up in conversation.

“Cum,” she commanded, finding her own euphoria, setting him off just moments later, thrusting up into her as he rode out his orgasm. Caroline grinned, pushing off his blindfold to reveal his beautiful face again. “Hi gorgeous,” she greeted, a lazy, satisfied smile on her face.

“What did I tell you about that smile?” He groaned, palming her ass in his hands.

“I know the consequences of my actions,” she sighed dreamily. Climbing off of Rooster, she wandered her way into the bathroom, cleaning up and grabbing the T-shirt that was slung over the bathroom door before pulling it on.

Rooster was sure he was delirious as she joined him back in the bed, hiking a leg over his hip and throwing his comforter over both of them.

“Rooster?” She asked, sparing a glance over at his alarm clock, which was flashing nearly two in the morning.

“Caro-line,” he sang back.

“I want my eggs scrambled in the morning,” she said, eyes closing gently as she curled up on his chest.

“Yeah? And what would you like to eat?” 

[grahambaham]

Something that has always annoyed me is the habit of many fans to declare that a villain of a certain piece of media is in the right when they are most definitely not.

A few examples that I can think of right now are Thanos, Magneto and Doom. What. The. Fuck.

First of all, Viktor Von Doom barely even has anything to be right about. The guy’s goal in life is to get as powerful as possible and use that power to rule the world or whatever, prove to everyone he’s smarter than Reed Richards (he is not) and to inflate his own ego as much as is psychically possible. Though that last one could be a result of the first two I guess. He basically wants the basic ass stuff all villains want, even if it’s not what they’re focusing on specifically. There is nothing for him to even be right about, my guy. Alright so the wanting to rule the world thing isn’t for his ego, though it helps. It is because he has a fucking god complex and thinks he’s the only one who can truly do it and properly protect the Earth from any future attacks. Everything about Doom basically boils down to his ego.

Now, I understand how Megneto, otherwise known as Max Eisenhart (Erik Magnus Lehnsherr is just an alias), can be a sympathetic villain. He’s gone through a lot and when very simplified his goal seems fairly noble. Dude just wants to protect mutants, make sure they’re safe and living their best lives or whatever. The problem is that he believes mutants are the superior species and treats humans how you might treat a mosquito. He wants to eradicate them completely, and so the world would be there for mutants to rule over and live happily ever after or whatnot. Any of that sound familiar to you? Yeah… Anyway, the point is that even though we can understand how he might’ve come to the point where he’s willing to do such horrible things, that does not mean he is right at all. People seem to think that the humans deserve it for the way they’ve treated mutants, even though there are a lot of good ones who most certainly don’t do that shit AND so many of them are children too. Because you do know that Max would legit murder even the little toddlers? Not for any reason other than ‘they’re human’. So yeah, he was not in the right. He was not the good guy all along or whatever. He is a villain and a horrible person who has also been treated horribly their whole life. Those two things can both be true. Having a bad childhood does not excuse your shitty actions though.

Last and certainly least we’ve got Thanos. First of all, that fucker did not give a shit about overpopulation or whatever in the comics. Bro wanted to court Death so he went around murdering people and destroying planets to impress her. Not very noble of him, I gotta say. Now as for the MCU, his goal is in fact to kill half the universe so more people could get more resources because he’s seen the way the poor live because of that lack of food and other things essential to living. Now, instead of using that infinite fucking power that he had in his hands to create more shit to give to everyone or, I don’t know, anything else? They’re called INFINITY stones for a reason? This fucker instead decided to just commit genocide real quick. I genuinely believe the only people who think this loser was right are actual children. Twelve years old at the most. Because there is no way in holy hell that grown men and women think Thanos was good and smart to use the INFINITE POWER IN HIS HANDS to just KILL A BUNCH OF PEOPLE INSTEAD OF SAVING MORE BY JUST WISHING FOR MORE RESOURCES OR FUCKING WORLD/UNIVERSE PEACE OR WHATEVER THE FUCK? Thanos is secretly twelve years old and hasn’t gained any critical thinking skills yet, I swear to fucking god.

So yeah, I guarantee whichever villain you think was right was not in fact right, they’re simply easy to sympathise with or their cause is. But if their way of making that sympathetic idea come true is murdering/torturing/conquering etcetera, then THAT MEANS THEY AREN'T RIGHT AT FUCKING ALL.

Good night.

[class1akids]

I totally get your point on how the adults should have prevented Eri from cutting her horn off, but on the other hand if Eri was prevented and Izuku never healed, how would she feel? Not to mention this is an emergency situation and Izuku is their most important player in this game. If Izuku stayed in that condition we don't know what would happen. Still wrong either way, but for this particular situation there are more people's lives on the line because it is technically the endgame.

There are others ways to keep him alive. When Mirko got her limbs cut off, BJ tied it up with a rope and she kept fighting - because she was another disposable character needed to tear herself into pieces for another male character.

Deku didn't need to lose his arms - Hori wrote that for shock value and painting a disturbed, traumatized child clearly suffering from survivor guilt to potentially sacrifice her quirk (an integral part of who she is) for him as "heroic", while grown ass men stand around or give up sweaty T-shirts is wrong.

Deku did not compromise on his resolve to save Tomura even though the entire world was at stake and killing him wasn't even discussed as an option, but a 6-year old being mutilated by an adult - as long as it's for Deku - is ok for you.

It just shows btw how much Eri is nothing but a literal plot device in this story nobody really cares about.

Everyone has their lines. I personally cannot think of any circumstance where a 6-year old should have to sacrifice an integral part of herself for a choice made by someone else. It was Deku's choice to throw any caution to the wind to save Tenko (where he rejected other villains just fine) and I don't think it's right that someone who he's supposedly protecting should need to cut herself to pieces to bail him out.

I get the themes, I get the point Hori is trying to make, but I think it's wrong and indefensible to make a 6-year old do this to herself. And I'd like to think that the real Deku wouldn't be ok with this either.

Her wanting to become a singer at the age of 6 is a ridiculous excuse. People who met real-world children know that their future profession is rarely decided before they even start primary school. Eri on top of it is a traumatized child who was kept in captivity for years and because of that she's even more vulnerable and should be protected.

If I sound angry, it's because I am and I find this fandom's moral selectiveness rather upsetting.

[butchbarbieagainstterfs]

i was a terf when i was 16-17 (im almost 20) and let me tell you about the amount of minors that were in those circles, getting lovebombed by 30 year old women.

i was a gender-questioning child who had an... incredibly unfortunate experience with a misogynistic family member. basically, i thought terfs were the only people who understood my rage and i took out my gender insecurities out on transgender people. every time i wrote a stupid ass post a 16 year old clearly wrote i would be applauded by women MUCH older than me. the amount of grooming behavior i witnessed and experienced myself is nothing ive ever experienced before online. i had my age in my bio too so none of them have any excuse.

anyway like i said earlier i was far from the only minor in radfem circles. i saw kids as young as 15 making posts. and these kids were very popular bloggers.

i have strong feelings of guilt about my own actions which i have since grown from but i also have strong feelings of disgust towards these adult women who think its a-ok to rope in minors to a doomerism ideology that believes all men are out to rape you and transgender people are gladly enabling them.

i guess in their minds, seeking minors and messaging them about how they should think and feel about complicated and intense issues they simply do not have the capacity to understand very well isnt grooming but instead an act of sisterhood.

point of this is: radfems are vile, they go after children all the time, and have no remorse about manipulating said children into adopting hateful political beliefs.

I am so sorry that happened to you ❤️

I always remember one quite well known TERF on here that has frogs in the url. I think even now she might only be 17 so still a minor, but she’s been making terf posts since she was like 14 years old and, like you, getting lovebombed for it by grown adult women. It’s honestly disgusting and why I haven’t really engaged her here. She’s just a kid who got groomed :(

[nightfallsolace]

Our Little Secret// Hanma Shuji x Reader  || Chapter 2

in which (Y/n) Ryuguji Draken’s little sister, has a hidden affair with one of their enemies, Hanma Shuji.

The music was blasting trough your headphones, you knew if someone walked into your room they would hear the raging music all the way from the door frame. You didnt want to lower the volume, it was perfectly fine. Yes sure there was a risk that you could potentially go deaf but thats only pontential, it wont come true anytime soon. Yet despite not wanting to lower the volume you had to anyways, after all your older brother could knock at the door at any given moment and tough the sound would be lowered by the sensual moans in the room beside you, there was still thatslight chance and you didnt want to worry your dear brother.

While you were turning down the volume a notification popped up on the top of the screen, the contact read "Wanna be Annabelle" and you groaned not wanting to deal with that Wednesday Addams rip-off

"Hey (n/n) wanna go and hangout? "

You scoffed at his audacity, seriously? In broad daylight he'd invite you to fight when he knows youd rather jump off a cliff now than let yourself be known, it'd ruin the years of eefort of concealing the fact you werent just some clumsy little girl hiding behind his big strong brother's back. The three dots appeard on the bottom left of the screen as another message popped up

"i know youve read my message :)"

As much as you wanted to leave the man on read you couldn't because he knew who you really were and any day now he could tell your dear old precious older brother, and he wouldnt actually belive a word rannabelle would say he would still give the benefit of doubt, Ken-chin's a brute but hes not stupid.

"and by hang out you mean go and dislodge some joints? why should I accept your invite? What even will i get from this?"

Sent.

"dont be mad princess you know i wouldn't invite you for a friendly beat up session with no proper excuse"

There was a pause  before the phone rang the iconic "ding"

"The group's harassed alot girls in the area bannering around their petty little title and evn used me and Rin-rin's name, CAN YOU BELIVE IT? THE AUDACITY THOSE ASSHOLES HAVE--

Anyways im sure youd love to beat them up due to their background, and to top it all off,  they've been collecting money from old ladies off the street"

Your face contoured in disgust and anger, they even targeted GRANNIES?? DO THESE MEN HAVE NO HEART??

"fine, but when i get there i better have a (favorite drink) and starberry shortcake with the extra jam and cream or im shoving your batton up your ass.

Meet me at our usual cafe. "

Sent.

Read.

" ah yes, there's the woman with anger issues ive grown to love"

You scoffed with disbelief

"atleast I havent been charged with murder."

You didnt wait for a reply and got up to get ready, throwing on some cloud spun stockings and a a pretty pink skirt, putting on a cycling for extra measure to make sure no would could peek. You quickly did your eyeliner and applied a heavy coating of strawberry lip balm cause your lips were dry as hell and it was starting to hurt.

You threw on the sweater your brother had given you a few months back as a congratulations present for being the top student in your class, it was a nice shade of pastel yellow and had a few blue and pink accents here and there. You grabbed one of your wigs and a cap gently placing it in your bag.

You sent a text your older brother saying you'll be going to Roppongi and will be back before midnight and got a "ok, stay safe, message me when you get there." as a reply.aWith that done you walked you way to the nearest train station greeting a few classmates along the way. You made pyour way to the counter to purchase a ticket and wait for a solid 5 minutes before the train to Roppongi was called, the train was pretty croweded considering it was the weekends and there was a new shopping mall that just oppened in the area.  It was suprisingly quick considering the travel time was normay longer and slower, you got off the train not before helping an old lady get to the platform.

You walked trough the busy streets of Roppongi passing several small stalls and a few several malls, the streets were busy and loud, music blasting from each store front the boisterous music competing in volume trying its best to attarct the most customers, even in the day this place is always so loud and livey. You stopped at a cafe in the near outskirts of the main city, it was less loud and had more of a calm feel to it, youd prefer this place than the city anyday. As you got closer to the cafe you spotted a man with long black hair with bleached accents stiiting under one of the purple parasols shading the tables and chairs outside the cafe, instead of his normal pigtails, his hair was held up in an elegant bun and wore a fold framed non-perscription glasses. You called out to the man and he shot a look your way

"Ah there you ar-"

"my food?"

"yeah yeah here" the man handed you a bag of (f/d) and strawberry shortcake with extra jam and cream

"good" you opened the bag to inspect the contects to see if it actually had extra cream and jam, and once you finished you smiled satisfied. "thank you"

His face showed pure "genuine" shock "You?! Thanking me?! Oh my i must be dreaming, have you had a change of heart? Oh ive been blessed!" he dramatically put his hand on his mouth and prentented to faint "someone catch me this is to overwhelming!" he fell backwards and you had to catch him despite your raging urge to let him fall. "get up Ran you're heavy" you push him upwards to help him stand up and he stood with a huff and brushed himself off even tough he didnt even fall.

"where's Rin? You said looking around "I tought he'd be here" Ran scoffed in disbelief "Wow im the one whos standing right here beside you and you look for my brother? Im hurt (n/n) "  you shook your head and took out the (f/d) from the bag opening the can

"well thats because his attitude is more tolerable than yours" 

Before he could have time to reply you dragged him out of the cafe's property and led him to the alley near by.

"enough folling around I plan on tending to my plants before going home, where are the guys you were talking about" he pulled out his phone and searched for a bit before placing the phone in your hands, "thats where they usually are, i got it from some residents around here" you looked at the picture and the coordiantes "and how are we going to get there?" he smiled big and toothy

"I tought youd never ask, were taking my bike" you took your bag and pulled out the wig and cap you brought "I tough so" you tied your hair up and put on the cap, placing the wig and appliying a bit of wig glue around the rim to make sure it wont fall of during the ride.

"kay im done let's go" the two of you walked to where his bike was parked back at the cafe, he got on the bike and revved it up and signalled you to hop on. The two of you sped trough the streets of roppongi

"AH- PLEASE-" you stomped on the man's nose as his blood gargled in his nose as he struggled to breath. 

"please? Pathetic, look at you begging for me to stop, to listen to your pleas, but tell me, did you listen to all those women who said no?" you crouched down to reach the man's height 

"did you listen when they told you that it hurt, or was uncomfortable with what you were doing?" the man stayed silent, his breathing was ragged and rough.

" i asked you a question." a hard blow landed on the mans stomach as he wheezed in pain, unable to scream due to the damage done to his body. 

"NO- I DIDNT-- IM SOR-" a painful smack hit him across the face. 

" it shouldnt be me you should be apologizing to, its all the women youve hurt and scared" you looked at Ran and answered as if he already knew what you were thinking. 

" no i dont have the women's adresses or names, i never received any info on it" you frowned dissapointed

"well i guess we'll just have to end this guys misery dont we?" he smiled at you and looked blankly at the man

 " you do the honors"  the man panic thinking this would be the last moment he would breath, but in reality you were just going to make him pass out, unlike ran you were "merciful" to those you beat up. You punched his face hard and blunt knocking him out. 

"my job here is done, drive me to the station?"

"whats the magic word? ~" the man sang annoyingly, you really really wanted to punch this guy's guts right now and leave him cold and passed out but you didnt wnat to walk to the train station. You chcked the time on your watch and the clocked flashed 4:45, it was pretty decent since you left at around 10 in the morning. You sighed defeated really not wanting to walk. 

"Ran will you please drive me to the station?" he smiled content, "alright". 

You got on his bike and he sped his way trough the streets ince again and dropped you off at the station. The two of you bid your goodbyes and you had told him to say hi to Rindou for you, he simply smiled and left. The ride home was tahnkfully peaceful, you had wipped your shoes and removed your wig at the stations bathroom and discarded the tissues in the bin. You opened your phone to find several missed calls from your older brother. 

"shit I forgot to text him" you muttered under your breath. You called him and sent apologetic looks to the people around you, bowing at them because of the ruckus you'll cause. 

"hello? Aniki?" you kept your voice hushed and low. 

"are you ok? you didnt text me and i was starting to get worried" you smiled at his reaction, your brother was a man that had a tough facade, which scared people, it made them think he was just a mean gangster, but in reality, he was extrenly kind and caring to those he loves and holds dear. 

"yes im ok, im sorry for not texting you when i got there, i forgot" he sighed relieved. 

"its alright just make sure to get home safe" "dont worry I will, i gotta hang up im on the train, love you"

"love ya to (n/n) keep safe" a long beep was heard as he hung up, you once again bowed and sent apologetic bows to the people in the train and they simply bowed back, well more like nodded but what is is what it is. You got off the train and walked your way towards one of the nearby beaches where you had set up your own makeshift garden, it was littered with nightshades and foxgloves, which you sold after you processed it extracting its poision and seeling it a pretty decent price. Was it illegal? Yes, yes it was, could it pottentially get you in trouble? Yes, yes it could, and could it pottentially be a gateway to a more darker path in life presumably in the mafia of a larger crime gang? Yes, yes in fact. 

You turned left to where the big stone which was hiding the plants only to see a man standing in the patches of nightshades and foxgloves. You stopped in your tracks, usually no one was there, infact, the only person who ever came there was you. Maybe it was the fact that it was a pretty secluded area, and the fact that atleast 6 murders happened there, including the nightshade poisoning incident, people were advised not to go. But there stood a figure looming in the darkness, you were readey to fight as you got closer you were able to make up who was the man standing in your garden, and there he was, in all his glory Hanma Shuji. 

[moonlight-records]

PSA:

i don’t normally talk about this but this is a serious thing i wanna touch on so TW: racism mentioned.

the fact people are calling the conversation about RACISM that is so rampant in the sport that's happening on f1 twt "white privilege discourse" is all i needed to know about you as a person + contributing to the problem.

it's so important for us to know the history, good AND bad, about this sport that's SO integrated so we can continue to talk and fight and break this generational stigma in the sport.

the fact people are so scared and allergic to calling their faves out and holding them accountable is baffling. calling your faves out and holding them accountable should be the NORM. it does NOT make you any less of a fan.

the fact that fans have turned "fake fan" into a weapon when issues like this arise and uncomfortable conversations are to be had just to silence those who are speaking out is disgusting. please step out of the bubble that's been created and look inward and ask WHY does this make you uncomfortable or upset that your fave is being rightfully called out and criticized.

these are GROWN ASS MEN. lewis nor any minority community shouldn't have to hold their hand let alone fans hands and make it our responsibility to educate YOU. we’re TIRED.

also, the "white privilege" excuse is not cutting it anymore. throughout this CONVERSATION, a lot of fans (esp with bigger platforms) have made it so noticeable that they will go to war with drivers for their right to curse but when it comes to fighting racism and basic human rights & decency it's suddenly "political" and go back to their bubble and ignore the topic at hand. the only ones i see speaking on the issue of racism in the sport are the black f1 fans while everyone else is turning it into a fan war, "white privilege discourse", “context matters”, or turning a blind eye. are we fucking fr here??

and don't get it twisted, i am not allergic to calling my favorite out which includes lewis and charles. they're not saints and im not saying they are but they need to be held accountable and criticized.

if you think that the conversation is simply "white privilege discourse" or doubling down to defend your driver instead of criticizing them and holding them accountable please follow me or just block me because i will NOT be doing that on my blog.

stop putting drivers on pedestals and start holding them accountable.

ps: don’t bother sending me hate or anything on this topic. i’m gonna ignore & delete. it’s the holiday season & im tired of having mine along with other POC voices silenced or spoken over.

~ sincerely, a black f1 fan